Wednesday, June 29, 2022

To Be Educated

 


"We have come to this world to accept it, not merely to know it. We may become powerful by knowledge, but we attain fullness by sympathy. The highest education is that which does not merely give us information but makes our life in harmony with all existence. But we find that this education of sympathy is not only systematically ignored in schools, but it is severely repressed. From our very childhood habits are formed and knowledge is imparted in such a manner that our life is weaned away from nature and our mind and the world are set in opposition from the beginning of our days. Thus the greatest of educations for which we came prepared is neglected, and we are made to lose our world to find a bagful of information instead. We rob the child of his earth to teach him geography, of language to teach him grammar. His hunger is for the Epic, but he is supplied with chronicles of facts and dates ... Child-nature protests against such calamity with all its power of suffering, subdued at last into silence by punishment."

(Rabindranath Tagore, Personality,1917: 116-17)

 

Where the mind is without fear
and the head is held high,
Where knowledge is free;
Where the world has not been broken
up into fragments by narrow domestic walls;
Where words come out from the depth of truth;
Where tireless striving 
stretches its arms towards perfection;
Where the clear stream of reason
has not lost its way into the
dreary desert sand of dead habit;
Where the mind is led forward
by thee into ever-widening
thought and action ─
into that heaven of freedom,
my Father,
Let my country awake.

Rabindranath Tagore

Tuesday, June 28, 2022

Could "RIGHT" be Wrong?

 



We sure do like to be right! Noticing a fair amount of righteousness around now. When are you so right that by definition another opinion is wrong? I think that’s called intolerance.

“VOTE MY WAY! ... Or, move to dictatorship. [Sounds dictatorial to me.] Side with me or go to the devil! Be cancelled. [And you know how dictators do their cancelling. Heavens to Joseph Stalin!]

The world, if it's anything, is a mirror. What do you see? And, who put it there? 

This idea may be new to you. Or, you might reject it out of hand. Hogwash! 

Maybe, though, just put that lens on for a while and imagine it is so. Now, what do you see? Okay. Not nice. Well, that's what in you! 

Good news! When you admit you don't know, and that you're full of shit ... that's a place for taking a fresh look. Getting at that solution to the world's ills that we all would like to see come to pass. But you can't hold on to the solution you have in hand. We're talking a fresh start. Give it a try. You can always pick up the same-old, same-old familiar firmly held cherished beliefs. 

Blaming is for the ignorant. By “ignorant” we’re not meaning “stupid”. One could be the smartest ever ... and, still be ignorant. Ignorant of what? Just that! What’s so in front of the nose it’s may not be seen, as such. Ignored. Because it is ignored. Ignored watching the flux and fold of the world. And, maybe more than a little, buying in to what the powers that be put in front of you for whatever narrative they want you to believe.

Do you get my point? We're being played. And, willingly. Righteously.

The pols have moved the needle on political discourse into the do-or-die, life-or-death extreme end of the dial. Are we entering a possible [probable?] time when power is the rule. ["40%" ... damn close to 50/50.]


What difference who's to blame. There a higher, more effective game to play! Don't we want results? How about a result we can ALL enjoy?

Honestly, sometimes I think the world could be a wasteland and all some would busy themselves with is who to blame. There's a reasonable choice.

Vote it!

Monday, June 27, 2022

RENEWAL 2024


This is the 3rd party option for 2024.

Good news! You can vote it now. Choose it! Own it! Be it!

The platform: peace, love, understanding, tolerance, choiceless awareness, inner peace ... To name a few.

Do this: vote the party/candidates of your choice. For sure. And, also, vote for RENEWAL too. Regardless of party choice, RENEWAL is a vote also on the ballot. The human ballot.

Whos the candidate? You are. I am.

Or, don't ... Don't vote RENEWAL, that is. Stay with the same old, same old and vote for going down the dead end of endlessly waring over who's right, and who's wrong. Ignore the middle way. Please ... Don't.

The platform stands* neither for or against having whatever is your opinion, and voicing it as loudly as you want.

That notwithstanding, the platform encourages also including cultivating peace, love and understanding in one's own heart and soul. Not some platitudinous "it's god's plan" semantic bullshit. God has no plans. People have plans. God has laws.

Plans ... And, look! How we doin'? With all those smart plans?

Here's the plan: vote RENEWAL! Now!








Saturday, June 25, 2022

A Crack in Time

A Crack in Time


One evening riding the D Train from Manhattan to Brooklyn we were crossing on the Manhattan Bridge. It was twilight. Just like in that photo. [That's the Brooklyn Bridge.] Gorgeous.

Some time well before, sitting at a local dive bar on Flatbush Avenue in Park Slope with a short glass of tap beer ... this large, imposing man sits down next to me and starts singing a classic Russian song. "Ochi chyornye" / "Dark Eyes" [A recorded version with lyrics are appended below.]

I took it he knew [how?] I was descended from people from that part of the world [Polish ancestry]. I forget what he said. I'm not much for starting conversations with strangers in bars. Anyhow, it struck me. This fellow was something extra. A time traveller from some other dimension? An Angel? Just some crazy mofo? A drunk?

Later, now here I am on the D Train, he shows up again. He sidles next to me in a way suggesting he knows me. We're looking out the window at the harbor view. It's twilight. Like the photo.

He tells me that there [at twilight] is a crack between the worlds. That's pretty much all I remember about our exchange. It stays with me. Is what he described true? On some rarified other level of perception?

Consider this ...

There’s a time at twilight when there’s a crack between the two worlds. Two worlds. Dark, and Light. Past, and Future. At that moment, there you are. Now ... where there’s nothing to hold on to. 

My takeaway: Go into that future empty handed. Without the burden of judgemental meanings you've placed on things; they persist in coloring the view ahead. This is nothing new. Ancient wisdom, really. 

Now, just to put it in practice.

“Truly, I say to you, unless you turn [changeand become like children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven.


Dark eyes, passionate eyes.
Burning and splendid eyes.
How I love you, how I fear you.
Verily, I espied you in an ill-starred moment.

Oh, not for nothing are you darker than the deep!
I see mourning for my soul in you,
I see a triumphant flame in you.
A poor heart immolated in it.

But I am not sad, I am not sorrowful,
My fate is soothing to me.
All that is best in life, God gave us.
In sacrifice I returned to the fiery eyes!



Wednesday, June 22, 2022

We May Live in Interesting Times ...

 We May Live in Interesting Times ...


In these time we may be living under the spell of an assumption that science and technology give us all there is to know. You tell me! God? Not a shred of scientific evidence. You gotta prove it!

[As if God needed proof!]

More. And — Danke Mein Gott im Himmel — science and technology will always be smart and capable enough to solve problems we create as they may show up. Even the unintended lousy consequences of actions undertaken with little forethought. In other words, “No need to be too careful on policy, we can fix it on the back end”. Only, it better take well to a good spin with the Hoi Polloi. [So we elect likeable dummies.]

Going a step further ... Perhaps the powers that be [READ: Those prominent in the public eye attempting to enlist the Populusque Romanus in their narrative frame.] they are just doing some good old-fashioned "Magical Thinking". That is, the kind of thinking that lives in its own exclusive self-created frame that is based on the idea that if a sufficient majority of people buy into it [the narrative], well, that's what reality will be. Of course, we know about that; it’s called political propaganda.

No, but I'm referring the kind of "Magical Thinking" that has it that reality for us is what someone we are conditioned to believe in decides it should be. Who for all we know most likely will be in full-blown egohood mode, and believing that they can manipulate the public consciousness so completely that they can wield the power of manifestation through the collective supportive energy. Like, reality is what you not only say it is, but things show up just the way you want. Literally. [A Ferrari in the garage in the morning. If not sooner.]

BTW. I believe such power of manifestation is in fact possible for us Humans. But, only on the Creator-instilled proviso that what we want to show up in our reality is in line with the Way of Things. There is such a thing as the Word of God. One who hears it acts accordingly. Acts well. “Well” being for the good of all.

What’s really interesting about these times perhaps is that we’re becoming aware of all this going on. Not just playing the game, seeing the game for what it is. A game. 

Now we can change the rules.








Monday, June 20, 2022

Some Very Good Advice ... Necessary

“Examine your conscience well, and access your worthiness to receive the Bridegroom. If you don’t do it voluntarily, the passages and cleansing of your own energies will come upon you like punishments.”

— Padrinho Sebastiรฃo quoted in Forest of Visions by Alex Polari De Alverga

Translate: Don't let the dawning Light fry your brains!

In a Word: REPENT!

Sunday, June 19, 2022

Vajrayogini - The Trauma Goddess


Vajrayogini - The Trauma Goddess

I am the diamond maiden, the player of games
The yogini is one of my forms
Showing that I am beyond earthly attachment
I am the shining revelation to the ascetic
The women in silk and roses
I am the harlot in black net and leather,
who gives enjoyable punishment
I am the glass bead master,
creating universes of form
And a spark of me is in each bead,
for I dwell in karma.
I am the Trauma Goddess,
the Lady of Pain
In return for devotion
I pull thorns from the heart
In return for obedience
I untie the knots in the belly and the head
I hold the vajra,
which gives and receives
I reshape family karma.
The Trauma Goddess is called for people in painful situations
Where anger and hatred block the path of the soul
I evaluate the benefits of revenge
And give better suggestions for spiritual growth.
I am not suited to polite society
To social striving, upward mobility, and making good impressions
I am radically honest, sensitive, brilliant, and blunt
I hold up a mirror to the best and worst facets of human life.
The Lady of Trauma is the mirror of pain
I reflect the disastrous ways that human beings interact
Then the reflections are stretched and distorted
With irony, and humour, and sadness
Loosening their grip on the heart
So that the person who seeks freedom
Can get a taste of being free.

My devotees pray:
"Lady of Trauma, Lady of Pain
Ascetic and bhairavi and sannyasini and mistress
Pull me from the disaster I have made of my life
Save me from the evil machinations of others."
This is their prayer and I hear it in their hearts
As they chant my mantra.
"Savior, Lady, Mother Goddess, bodhisattva,
Love me as I love you
I am desperate and bound
Free me by your grace."
I will give freedom,
but not without realization
Those who have been bound, bind others
Those who have suffered, cause suffering
I let them know how they have been affected
But also how they have affected others.
I do not wear bones because of death
I wear them because they represent what is beneath the surface
The blood that I drink is the evil karma of those that I save
And the karma is then halted and does not pass to others
I appear wrathful as I take on anger, hatred, fury, 
and the desire to destroy
Which are destroyed within me.
I am a dancer upon the pain of all mankind
I destroy the dark and corrupt
My compassionate side is hidden
But for those whom I love
Who have taken on my dark grace
I open a path of shining light
With pain and sorrow left behind.

Sunday, June 05, 2022

Kim's Big Ole Ass

Kims' Big Ole Ass


That one big ole ass!

How big?

Not to put a number on it ... just to say that for a bidet ... she got a car wash!
 

Sunday, May 22, 2022

Holy Scripture[s]

 Holy Scriptures[s]


As you may know I practice Rolf Structural Integration. Balancing the body with the Gravitational Field of the Earth. 

A cardinal point in that approach to health and well is living in line of Gravity. When the body is balanced along its center vertical axis you can then enlist the power of Gravity itself. For healing. For doing your best. For just feeling GREAT!

Anyhow ... Holy Scripture. What's the connection?

In that image of an ancient Sefer Torah what do we see? Those vertical rollers around which the scroll is wrapped. The rollers ["Atzei Chaim"] are straight. So too the parchment onto which the words of the Jewish Good Book are written has to be straight along its horizontal length. That is, in order to roll up properly.

If that's not a life lesson in itself. Well, when you consider living in alignment with respect to the dictates of Gravity.

If you need it spelled out: By anatomical design we see quite clearly the human body design calls for vertical balance, symmetry side to side, with everything level front to back. In such balance you are able to live aligned with the simple ineluctable action of Gravity. That simple. 

Books with bound pages were created by the Romans, sometime in the 2nd and 3rd Centuries CE. I had hoped to make the case that the Christian Bible, theQur'an, the Rigveda were set down as scrolls. Apparently not. I haven't done exhaustive research, but that's what I've been able to glean. The Torah ... on scrolls for sure. 

It's not a deal breaker. The point about the alignment of the scroll architecture can be made for books too. All the pages of a book have to match up. Square up. The spine, if it's a bound book, has to be straight. Otherwise the pages won't open and each fall flat onto one another.

So, what's the point. Just that there are clues everywhere about unwritten laws which have to be observed. Some laws are universal. Gravity, that's one, for sure.

As children we learn preverbally about Gravity just in the process of playing at stacking blocks. I used to be nuts for the Yo-Yo. The magic of that one is that it comes back up! 

Now what? Look around. Creation is a metaphor. Full of rich insights and meaning.










Tuesday, May 17, 2022


๐“๐ก๐ž ๐๐ข๐ซ๐ž๐œ๐ญ๐ข๐จ๐ง ๐จ๐Ÿ ๐ก๐จ๐ฐ ๐ž๐ฏ๐ž๐ง๐ญ๐ฌ ๐ฎ๐ง๐Ÿ๐จ๐ฅ๐ ๐ข๐ฌ ๐š ๐œ๐ก๐จ๐ข๐œ๐ž ๐ž๐š๐œ๐ก ๐จ๐Ÿ ๐ฎ๐ฌ ๐ฆ๐š๐ค๐ž๐ฌ. ๐“๐ก๐ข๐ง๐ ๐ฌ ๐ญ๐ฎ๐ซ๐ง ๐จ๐ฎ๐ญ ๐š๐œ๐œ๐จ๐ซ๐๐ข๐ง๐  ๐ญ๐จ ๐ญ๐ก๐ž ๐๐จ๐ฆ๐ข๐ง๐š๐ง๐ญ ๐ฐ๐ข๐ฅ๐ฅ.

๐’๐ข๐ฆ๐ฉ๐ฅ๐ฒ ๐ฉ๐ฎ๐ญ, ๐ข๐ญ ๐ฌ๐ž๐ž๐ฆ๐ฌ ๐ญ๐จ ๐ก๐š๐ฏ๐ž ๐œ๐จ๐ฆ๐ž ๐๐จ๐ฐ๐ง ๐ญ๐จ ๐š๐ง ๐ž๐ฌ๐ฌ๐ž๐ง๐ญ๐ข๐š๐ฅ ๐ก๐ฎ๐ฆ๐š๐ง ๐œ๐ก๐จ๐ข๐œ๐ž ๐Ÿ๐จ๐ซ ๐จ๐ฎ๐ซ ๐ฆ๐จ๐ฆ๐ž๐ง๐ญ ๐จ๐ง ๐„๐š๐ซ๐ญ๐ก:

๐–๐ก๐š๐ญ'๐ฌ ๐ข๐ญ ๐ ๐จ๐ง๐ง๐š ๐›๐ž ๐๐จ๐ฒ ... ๐–๐š๐ซ ... ๐จ๐ซ, ๐๐ž๐š๐œ๐ž.

๐–๐ก๐š๐ญ๐ž๐ฏ๐ž๐ซ ๐ข๐ฌ ๐ญ๐ก๐ž ๐œ๐ฎ๐ซ๐ซ๐ž๐ง๐ญ ๐ฆ๐ฒ๐ญ๐ก ๐ญ๐ก๐š๐ญ ๐ข๐ง๐Ÿ๐จ๐ซ๐ฆ๐ฌ ๐จ๐ฎ๐ซ ๐ฅ๐ข๐ฏ๐ž๐ฌ, ๐จ๐ง๐ž ๐ซ๐š๐ญ๐ก๐ž๐ซ ๐จ๐›๐ฏ๐ข๐จ๐ฎ๐ฌ ๐ข๐ฌ ๐ข๐ญ ๐ข๐ฌ "๐–๐š๐ซ ๐š๐ง๐ ๐๐ž๐š๐œ๐ž".

๐ˆ๐ญ ๐ ๐จ๐ž๐ฌ ๐ฅ๐ข๐ค๐ž ๐ญ๐ก๐ข๐ฌ: ๐–๐ž ๐š๐ซ๐ž ๐ž๐ข๐ญ๐ก๐ž๐ซ ๐š๐ญ ๐ฐ๐š๐ซ ๐จ๐ซ ๐ฐ๐ž'๐ซ๐ž ๐š๐ญ ๐ฉ๐ž๐š๐œ๐ž. ๐€๐ง๐, ๐ฐ๐ž ๐š๐ซ๐ž ๐ฉ๐ซ๐ž๐ฉ๐š๐ซ๐ž๐ ๐Ÿ๐จ๐ซ ๐ฐ๐š๐ซ ๐ญ๐จ ๐ž๐ง๐ฌ๐ฎ๐ซ๐ž ๐ญ๐ก๐ž ๐ฉ๐ž๐š๐œ๐ž.

๐‡๐š๐ฌ ๐ญ๐ก๐ข๐ฌ ๐ ๐š๐ฆ๐ž ๐ ๐จ๐ญ ๐š๐ง๐ฒ ๐ฅ๐ž๐ ๐ฌ ๐š๐ง๐ฒ ๐ฆ๐จ๐ซ๐ž? ๐‘๐ž๐š๐ฅ๐ฅ๐ฒ ... ๐ฐ๐ž’๐ซ๐ž ๐ ๐จ๐ง๐ง๐š ๐Ÿ๐ข๐ ๐ก๐ญ ๐Ÿ๐จ๐ซ ๐ฉ๐ž๐š๐œ๐ž [๐ฅ๐ข๐ค๐ž ๐ฒ๐จ๐ฎ ๐Ÿ๐ฎ๐œ๐ค ๐Ÿ๐จ๐ซ ๐ฏ๐ข๐ซ๐ ๐ข๐ง๐ข๐ญ๐ฒ]?

๐Œ๐ฒ๐ญ๐ก ๐‚๐ก๐š๐ง๐ ๐ž ... ๐ฌ๐จ๐จ๐ง ๐œ๐จ๐ฆ๐ข๐ง๐ .

Saturday, May 07, 2022

๐“๐ก๐ž ๐“๐ž๐ง-๐“๐ฎ๐ซ๐ง ๐Š๐ž๐ฒ

The Ten-Turn Key

Before we begin: This is my story of which I'm telling. So, since I'm the teller, I might address you, the reader, directly. My story, my choice. Got that? Comprende? Capishe Italiane? Okay? I kid. I don't.

And, so ...

It's just a key. Imagine this key, though. Rather simply designed. A typical classic plain thumb piece, a long slender shaft, a gear, and a furnial. Not your usual key, for sure! That furnial bit thingy shaped in this particular case like a outy-notched circle with a raised arrow/pointer on its circumference; said circle being in diameter exactly to match the diameter of the gear.

What's it for?

Ah, you asked the right question.

But, first, let's see how that key works. As you well know, any key needs a lock. That Yin and Yang business is everywhere, haven't you noticed. Trains going into tunnels. Farmers plowing the fields. Hot dogs in buns. [I'll have the latter "Detroit Lafayette Coney Island Style": with lots of Cuminy Chili, chopped Onions, and Yellow Mustard.]

Looking very closely we see an opening in the lock exactly circular to fit the diameter of the circular elements on the key. But, exactly. Close, close tolerance. Micro millimeter precision. And, yes, don't forget the notched furnial. Yes there's a corresponding notch in the lock box. Notches, really.

Next up, the key being inserted to a short full stop, then it must be rotated enough for the arrow/pointer on the furnial to fit just enough into a second corresponding female cut. Sort of like putting just the tip in. Yin and Yang, once again! Push just enough to clear an opening and the key moves in a short, short step to engage with a gear set. You turn the gear set slowly and feelingly until the arrow/pointer marries with yet another female receiver; not necessarily in the same position as the number one and number two pass throughs. Or, any of the others for that matter.

On and on like that, through ten steps in all. Think "maze". Then, voilร ! Open sesame!

This quite clearly is not a lock you should be in a hurry to open. In fact, it's a sort of elemental combination vault-lock-maze-gauntlet. You would be there forever trying to get the just right set of permutations to negotiate that inscrutable path of openings, connections and gearings. In fact, the lock is set up unforgivingly; so much so that just one wrong move and the lock will seize and virtually swallow the key. The lock, however, is designed to still be openable, even if you screw up and get your key "cancelled". Don't ask how they did that. I don't have a clue. I'm just reporting the facts.

Not like there are lots of keys just laying around so as if you lose one, you just grab another. No! You lose a key like that ... you're out of there, buddy. You must be worthy to even put your hand on such a key. Worthy ... after rigorous training in every mini-millimeter minutia of steps to get that dern lock to open. There's no user manual. All handed down, oral instruction. The consequences for attempting to formulate the procedure down onto paper are not something you would want me to give you even a hint about. As if, I know, anyway. Which I don't. Nuf said. 

It's big day black-bad. Millennial. Worse than ... C'mon Man! You cook up in your own imagination what would be the worst possible fate. I'd say mine, what I would conjur; but it would chill you out, and I'd have to spend too many words just getting a hint of it across.

Okay. So what's such the big deal with all this fuss about opening that lock, with all the fuss just to learn how to do it?

Oh, did I mention the apprenticeship? You start at the beginning. Building a fire what to melt the alloys to be poured into a handmade form for the key. Every dern step of the way. Mastery of every step is, of course, a given. The real thing to pass onto the next step is to be surrendered enough at any given step, so much so that you don't after all is said and done give a dern about even getting to the next step. You proceed up the ladder by invitation. It is given. Not earned. Imagine setting out to achieve a goal and the lesson to the goal is not to care about the goal. Wha ... ?

And, now, that's where the story begins to unfold.

I think you'll recall we went through the actual steps of pushing and turning, and pushing and turning the key those ten times — and getting each step dead nuts right to boot! — until it hits the button with an explosive, ecstatic rush of satisfaction. Okay, you can insert a sexual image there, if you want. Yin/Yang, once more. [Is there ever enough?]

Oh, did I mention the door? Every lock has to have a door. Maybe not a door in every case; but, even on a case, it acts like a door you open. Never mind. You wouldn't understand anyway.

This particular door is important not for how it looks, but where it is located. It's the janitor closet just at the end wall of the men's room at the New York City Pennsylvania Station. There's also one just like it at the Port Authority Bus Terminal. But, that's another story. 

If you think going through all the trouble to make the key, and then learn how to use it is a bitch, you've never been to the men's room at Penn Station. Plus the indignity of having to deal with being propositioned for some raunchiness on account of your being all bent over working on that lock which was set on the door about a foot from floor level. If you've ever dropped your soap in a Greek shower, you know what I'm talking about.

Alright, alright. Here's what you have when you open that door.

You find yourself in a light filled space, sunlight brilliant. Pure white. So fulsome is this light that you don't have a sense of any spatial dimension to register, or anything that might be there. Like some other doors. Which, let me give you a spoiler alert: there are. Other doors.

Presumably after the soul purifying steps you've taken just to get there, you are chastened enough to trust your stepping forward into this light-filled ..."Whathaveyou".

As you go you notice things. You're in a hallway, wide; with walls on either side. And, doors. No locks. [Thank Gott in Himmel.] So many doors. An eternity of doors, in fact.

Where are you? You're in the Akashic Records. The repository of everything ever ... past, present, and future. Not only everything ever, but every potential and possibility of everything ever. And, even after all that ... and then some.

Poem for Judgment Day

We did it. We did it all. We did it all. We made it all happen. And that ... and that ... and that ... and.

Now, for the clincher. You could look at every last friggin' item in the Akashic Records, copy every bit of it down, transcribe it, and put it into books printed with all the ink that could be carried in the space of a thousand world oceans ... 

And ...

Then ...

There you are! Here you are! Hi, buddy.