Self Sovereign and Entirely Whole (Volume XIV)

Name: Self Sovereign and Entirely Whole (Volume XIV)
Author: David Bussell

VOLUME XIV:

SELF SOVEREIGN AND ENTIRELY WHOLE – DESIRING NOTHING, I RESIDE COMPLETELY WITHIN MYSELF AWARENESS; AS SUCH, THINGS COME AND GO IN ACCORD WITH MY SELF RESIDENCE, UPON THE UNSTAINED, UNMOVING THRONE OF AWARENESS, THE UNSTAINED UNMOVING THRONE OF BEING. I AM [ALL THINGS]. ALL THINGS ARE WITHIN ME, ALREADY FULL, ALREADY COMPLETE, ALREADY WHOLE.

Wholly love yourself. What does it mean to be truly sovereign? Truly independent? Where nothing anyone says or does matters because you got yourself no matter what? That you know yourself so deeply that nothing phases you? Residing in your soul and living each moment and each day wholly for yourself, wholly within yourself, letting go of everything and living in the moment absolutely free.

‘Don’t go looking for it. Reside in your vibration and that which is in your vibration will come to you. Are you in the receptive mode of the clear path? You cannot be a sloppy thinker. You cannot just look around and make observations and judgements. This produces contradictory vibrations. Proceed from within, reside in your vibration. Be in the receptive mode.’ – Abraham Hicks

God is fucking himself, killing himself, becoming pregnant with himself, all for fun, all for sport, all for theatre.

A shaman, a medicine man, a healer. With my knowledge, with my awareness, I can heal you at the auric psychic level: the place from which all things ‘appear’ to you, to have form, to have materiality, to have physicality. To allow your plasmic blood to flow clean and clear of distortions and debris: a cleansing which is an enema, a clearing, of the auric field by way of a reorientation at the level of the true self.

I have to lead with my vibration.

‘Everything is meant to transform. Welcome the change in your power, in your confidence. Consciously choose what is best for you now, connected to your higher self.’ – Molly McCord

I lead with my true vibration – my true heart – not drawn without myself into false illusions of ‘other’, ‘desire’, or other such images created in the mind which create a false dualism, separation, or duality. These illusions are created as ‘desire’ – sexual, object-based, et cetera. These illusions are illusions. When I lead from my heart center, my true self, my true vibration, I am the living embodiment of the wholeness of being; I Am.

The practice of this work is awareness: it is to sit in the moment and return myself to myself infinitely, Eternally, Permanently, Remembrance. That my whole body is remembered is that it is not illusorily dispersed as in desire for another, an illusory separation, or a object or a something which otherwise, if possessed, would render it whole. This is a game of the mind, believing that it looks outside of itself with eyes and ears and wandering hands and that which it believes itself to touch is an ‘object’, a ‘thing’, outside the wholeness of Self. The creation of this construct is the ‘ego-self’, or the self which is set against Self (conjectured in the shadow, the dark, the unknown, the ‘other’, the desired object, the desired body, and so forth).

By residing within myself, I am infinitely whole. That which is meant to come into my life and leave my life is like a river: the whole river is myself: the water – and I look into myself, the rushing water, and there appears to be things, people, events, happenings, rushing by in reflections, refractions, images like visions in smoke or fire or water or earth – images which the mind constructs vis-à-vis the play of the senses, the play of the imagination. I observe this play like a child, like an art: that it appears as constructed upon a canvas or a screen of the mind; that I remember that I am the one watching the play of the screen of the mind; that I do not myself, in the witnessing, become absorbed into the play and as such forget myself as in my true nature; inhabit the character or the stage so totally that the masks of the character become my face: my face, the faceless one, the facelessness, the face of all of the faces: Vishvarupa consciousness.

In this sense, I do not become attached to any scene, dialogue, or movement in the play of becoming, rather, I observe it dispassionately and watch as it moves to and fro about the stage, soliloquys, and so forth. In this witnessing, I retain the entirety of my personal power and agency as the director of this play: the agency that is forever mine, being Being witnessing the Becoming within itself, the various different movements of organs and organisms, flickers of the flames of which I Am the fire Itself. They are within me; I am them, entirely – their very image is composed of me, it is my essence which is ‘seen’, and yet interpreted to be phenomenal, or a ‘thing’, with a separate essence or otherwise ‘other ‘nature’’. The world to me is a transparency of my essence, not an opacity of phenomenal reality. This very assertion of phenomenal reality is itself the lack of self knowledge which is thus: the lack of ‘object knowledge’. The self is always already the object – in that it is always already is, everpresent, there, embodied, breathing – the very Nature which is observed and called ‘nature’ – the trees, the stones, the buildings, the people, the animals…

Thus, I see at an atomic and cosmic level: the Self particles, or the plasmic-blood which forms and informs each and every ‘thing’; the very source of the plasmic-blood animated Nature, the lifeblood, the Spiritude or Essence of Being from which the plasmic-blood swirls and emerges and submerges and disperses like an ocean of consciousness. The Essence of Being is where I am, the Essence of Being is where I am identified; the Essence of Being is where I reside. The Essence of Being is me.

Don’t go ‘looking for trouble’. Why go ‘without’? It doesn’t exist, it’s a dream! What is good, right, and true for you will always find you by the sound of your true heart’s vibration. Go within. Go so thoroughly within and keep going! … and that which is yours will find you by the song of yourself. Become ensconced in Self. Become bathed in God. The rest will take care of itself. It speaks you as you embody it; it becomes you. It will draw in those who are ready to meet you there… they will arrive. They will not have to be drawn in or otherwise accosted, coerced, dragged. They will come gladly, urgently, desirously – to that wisdom place. They who are right for you; they who are right for this life. All may come, and all may go. Remain in the sound of your true heart’s vibration; remain in the center, in calm, peaceful meditation.

THE SELF SOVEREIGN MAN

The self sovereign man has gone beyond not only the appeal to the agreement of the woman, but the agreement of the men. The self sovereign man has gone even further - in that he has gone beyond not only the appeal to culture, but to religion, the mankind, in an agreement of his consciousness with his biology as in a higher working or higher operating through the body as a kind of self contained, sensual existence in which he exists thoroughly, absolutely, within himself - whole and self sovereign, needing no one and nothing.

The self sovereign man is entirely focused and concentrated within himself as in a cosmic formation and formulation: that he is aware of his self contained cosmic nature as in himself; in this sense he no longer projects at all whatsoever upon anyone or anything, realizing the universe to be himself. He fulfills the biological urges and pulses and rhythms of the body with this very self awareness; in this sense he is not submitted to them and neither is he submitted to anyone or anything to fulfill them - as he does not prize them. He does not claim the body, knowing it to be a cycle of nature; he claims himself as Nature itself; in doing so he goes beyond culture, time, space, the body, the cycles of nature - into the very source and essence as in Consciousness and Awareness itself. Living from this place, the self sovereign man is beholden to nothing, requires nothing, and recognizes himself thusly - as the atomic and the cosmic unity embodied witnessing itself.

The self sovereign man proceeds from this awareness - this position less position, this axis of spirit and flesh. As such, he is self-centered - in the sense that he is, truly, cosmically self aware and claims his rightful throne as in Nature itself, not a mere cycle of nature - not merely a body, a figure, a face, a name - but the nameless, faceless - the source essence.

In this sense, the practical ethics of the self sovereign man is self regulatory but never proceeds into a projection of his self sovereign power and source essence into or upon another or another situation, an elsewhere, an outside of, an either/or, an other-than-this. For he recognizes that he is never outside of himself and there is never anyone or anything other than himself as in that he is Nature itself, no matter how many illusory figures and supposed ‘others’ that rise and fall in and out of his senses and supposed subjective/objective ‘reality’. It requires this philosophical and metaphysical coherence to cut through the theatre of nature and to Become Nature Oneself.

This is what is necessary at the level of modern man, collective man, in order to advance and truly become not only that which he is, but to fulfill himself as in to embody the state of true happiness which is not beholden to any conditional. He must reside within himself and thus not be prey to a single ‘desire’ or a single illusory projection or a reaching or a grasping from without but rather to reside within the engine of his ‘image-desire’ which appears to him to be figures and forms and projections - the engine of his drive - his willpower, his manpower, his raw, primordial, energetic life force and to be propelled and impelled from within to fulfill himself, himsoul - in that he strives aesthetically - that he strives creatively and artistically - in that he is Nature aware of itself - that he breaks the cyclical, cyclical nature of the rise and fall of himselves and resides in Awareness - the he is not projected ‘himself-image-self’ and does not project from himself ‘another’. In this sense, man creates great art that is emergent from Nature itself cognizant of itself as Nature and in this sense breaks the cyclical space-temporal mechanism of the production and reproduction cycles of nature, seasonalities, births, rebirths, moons, gestations, pregnancies, et cetera. It is aware of the eternal recurrence of these ‘natures’ and as such resides without them, beyond them, and gives them credence insofar as is necessary in order to sustain the rhythm of the form that is given (the flesh, the body) - and furthermore, enters into art from this place - he observes these natures as

coming and going, not as tragedies but as comedies; thus releases them with the play of a child. In this way, he is able to create great art in that he is passionate until he decides to be dispassionate; he plays with emotions and seasons like masks. He moves fluidly, seamlessly, freely, through himself as in the wandering king through his city dressed as a beggar - or as Nature, as Consciousness, through the city of sleep, through the city of forgetting - through the seeming psycho-sexual dream of the parents, the mother, the father, the lover, the war, the empire, the whole smear of human affairs which are like the mad paint flung on the canvas of Nature depicting itself - Nature which is so often embodied as ‘nature’ - that is, that which is not conscious of itself as being Being. That it identifies with Becoming is that it subjects itself to the gale-storm of its own art; this is what the self sovereign man wades through - it is ‘nature’ forgetting itself and thus rising and falling as figures and forms grappling with the limited nature of that which they identify with and as: the rising and falling forms and bodies and beings themselves - the limited identification which is ‘nature’ that is not conscious of itself being as such, the entirety, the wholly Nature Itself.

This is man’s peculiar lot and fashion in this incarnation and lifetime - in that he is capable of becoming conscious of himself as Himself (Nature) and as such not merely ‘transcend’ but actually properly inhabit himself and embody himself as Nature Itself, and not ‘just’ the limited psychic-imaginary image and form of ‘man’ in the cultural and biological and organismic sense - the various different forms of psychic and historical limitation called ‘existences’ and formulations by hitherto past figures which have risen and fallen as figures and forms and masks of Nature as ‘becoming-natures’. In this sense, there is either ignorance or awareness - and this shift in consciousness is nothing more or less than right identification with source: Nature Itself.

Herein, man drops all pretense, illusion, imagining, mentalism, and all such convictions in the theatre and play

of ‘natures’ as in their cycles and seasons and his enthrallment with the projection and play - and he no longer entertains it with and as a ‘himself-image’ which is nothing more than a fragment, a fracture, a forgetting - a shattered mirror in which man sees merely an aspect of himself in a ‘container’ as in his ‘subjective’ enfleshed- organismic ‘sensing’ - which is a false projection of a false reality produced by a limited system of ‘knowing’. This limitation of sense knowing is only overcome with meditation on the True Nature of Man - a nature which is not touched by the senses or the body or this limited ‘reality’, but rather that which produces this ‘projection’ - that which witnesses, observes, and ‘creates Becoming’ as in a Theatre of Being - a changing of the changeless, a rising and falling of the cosmic breath as in wind or fire ‘forms’ which are mere appearances or specters of a greater lifeblood and force, a seasons of the Nature.

In doing so, in doing this metacognitive work, man becomes to himself Himself-Being - self sovereign; that he looks about himself and recognizes the churning of becomings in that they do not yet see themselves truly and still reach out into pseudo-separations, beggings, and attempts to suture wholeness in ‘another-other’, a reaching out, a without which is nothing more or less than reaching a hand into Oneself and feeling about in the abyss for the imagined other, the imagined projection of and from without - the imagination attempting to make something of itself and thus subsume the imagined image, to feast on images, projections, ideations, fantasies, desires, and so forth. The death of these psychic images is the full embodiment of man at all levels: heaven, hell, and earth: the mental, the psychic, the physical; the incarnation of the spiritual form of man as in life on earth - the grounding and embodiment of the True Self in the nature-self - in the sense that man’s True Self is embodied in the figure-form, ‘nature’ within the Nature - that the projection, or the comedy of the seasons becomes a comedy of turnings in that it becomes aware of, or enlightened to, Itself-Nature.

Such a state of man is a new state, or a state which is beholden to nothing and no one other than the natural unfolding of itself as Nature - a free state of man which is called to nothing and no one as it realizes all things to be, equally, projections of Itself-Source Energy, rising and falling forms which can offer him nothing that he cannot offer himself, in the literal sense that they are Himself, Nature. There is no difference, or separation of him from them - but in that they are Nature forgetting, and he is Nature remembered. In this sense, being self sovereign, man is for the first time free; truly free in the philosophical and psychic sense in that he is liberated not only from the game of his questioning of right and wrong action and the chess match of the soul with death but from the whole absurd play of the grounds of ‘humanity’, ‘the future’, ‘the past’, ‘the present’, and other such morays of morality, mortality, finitudes, and so forth. In the right identification of man with and as Nature Itself, he simultaneously achieves full embodiment and seeks to be ‘man’ or his ‘former-self- image’ in that he no longer has a self image, a name, a home, a reason, a family, a story, a narrative, a culture, a civilization, a time, a place, or any such of these fallacies which ‘naturally’ emerge from the false identification of man with the seasonal-becomings which are nothing more or less than the art form of Nature itself which are run-offs, or detritus, or spin-offs of the original form, the Stillness of Being which is Eternally Whole and yet creating merely for sport. In this sense, Creation itself is simultaneously meaningless and vast and advanced, for the bold creator who seeks strength in his brushstrokes and treats each act, moment, and vast becoming as a canvas through which to realize daring arts and feats of soul-summoning.

Equally in all of these feats and acts and scenes: the self sovereign man’s ability to let go of the act, the character, the object, the feigned objective, the art, the canvas, the movement; to flow seamlessly, fluidly, into the next phase, movement, as Himself Itself Nature commands from within his very beating heart, the very hearth and throne of his true self and soul. Listen…

NOTES WITH BASHAR AND ABRAHAM-HICKS

That which is relevant to our evolutionary growth is provided. Faith in the divine order. The focusing of spiritual energy.

When there is no difference between you and the water, it will move.

When you understand that it is just a different expression, reflection of you, it will move, it will flow with you.

Follow your passion (love, excitement, curiosity, attraction)
Acting on your passion/guidance. Take it as far as possible. Follow the thread of passion.
Act on your passion with zero expectation - the higher mind will bring outcome.
Stay in positive state. We can benefit from it regardless.
Work on beliefs; fear based etc - clear them all out.

Nothing negative can happen in a positive state of being. In a positive state of being, you will always derive positive effect. Always apply a positive definition - the state of soul growth. Soul growth as a state of being. No matter how it looks, it must be there for a positive reason.

It doesn’t matter what happens. It only matters what you do with what happens. This is a nonstop process.

Change for its own sake. No insistence on outcomes. Know that the flow will take us where we need to go, and ultimately want to go at the level of soul.

The higher mind always knows what’s best.

What is the belief that is generating the reality? Thoughts, emotions, behaviors are the reinforcement of the belief. Reality is a mirror, a reflection of what you are putting out.

You may never know how many people you have helped by living your most joyful life. To say that you are not deserving is arrogant. Existence is deserving - you are existence. If you have a gift, someone in that reality is looking to receive that gift.

You already own everything. - Bashar

Just feel satisfaction about something. Turn toward the satisfying thing. Step 1: ask, Step 2: happens vibrationally, Step 3: relax, feel satisfied, and let it in.

FIND SOME REASON TO FEEL SATISFIED. There are so many reasons to feel satisfied. Just be in satisfaction. ‘Produce’ satisfaction! It is a good thing that you feel good. Feeling good really will bring good things to you. - Abraham Hicks

Feel satisfied for a little bit. Don’t try to justify your experience via hard work and action. Just point and like what you’re pointing at!

I want to feel what my inner being feels. I want to point in the direction that my inner being is pointing at.

Quiet your mind, discover sense of detachment. In absence of resistance, rising of vibration, in connection with source, satisfaction in this moment. Tapped in doing!

If you continue the vibrational practice of ‘I don’t have enough’, you can’t have enough in the very nature of the vibrational frequency. Proceed in the vibrational frequency of ‘I have enough’.

Don’t say, ‘I need this to be happy’ - just be happy! Unconditionally.

Reveling in internal alignment with self. Being whole, being happy, unconditionally.

Just be happy unconditionally. It is always supposed to be fun! Follow my inner fun.

Feel happy now. Don’t worry about the manifestation. Feel in love now. Don’t worry about the manifestation. You don’t need a ‘person’ or ‘an object’. UNCONDITIONAL.

Be at peace now. Be whole now. UNCONDITIONAL.

Practice peace. Practice happy. Practice whole. AS A VIBRATION. UNCONDITIONALLY. There’s happiness right here right now, in the vibration. That zone, that frequency. It’s happy everywhere!

Tune into happiness. Tune into happiness with your vibrational power! YOU CAN ALWAYS FIND SOMETHING TO FEEL GOOD ABOUT. Make this your habit!!!!

Refuse to focus on anything ‘unpleasant’. Turn it into happiness with your vibrational power!

I’m going to feel deserving. I’m going to demonstrate my deservingness with my happiness.

Be at peace unconditionally. Be peace unconditionally.

TRANSLATE IT TO ACTION. LET IT FLOW!

Once you’ve launched that rocket, see what source says about it!

Every energetic movement is part of the cosmic flow. Let it move - let it go!

breathe deep and point to the good things.

I find a way to be happy wherever I am - NOW!

Don’t even justify!

CHANNELING VIOLENCE, PASSION, POWER, FLOW, PURE LIFE FORCE ENERGY

Even to write this is to merely allude to it, but I will detail this process.

In order to do so, one must return entirely to Oneself. I, from this position, desire nothing, wait for nothing, dream of nothing. I act, absolutely, purely in the moment as in the pure Becoming, the act or the theatre itself which moves through me, as me – I become life itself and act as life.

In this position, I am – I exist purely as being without a template, a conjecture, a notion, a dream, or any such lingering ‘thinkings’ which cloud my vision or create false veneers. I do not exist as ‘an actor’ ‘a thinker’ or in any sort of social or political position or pseudo-role or ‘human’ outfit or clothes. I exist directly beyond relation in a seamless and fluid movement as in being human, in which the life force itself animates existence – which I am.

There is no false boundary of the body here, nor is there the simulation of the phenomenal. I exist immediately as the Nature, and thus there is no drawn bound of space or time. There is only pure Awareness.

In and from this position, I act from within and feel myself as life moving through the body of existence – this is to say that I am the Nature that is moving through all things in a thread or a flow or a river or a motion which is ceaseless, boundless, and yet all of the animatory process of Nature – Being that permeates and permanents everything and all things in and at their very essence and core as the very cosmic whole: microcosmos composing a macrocosmos of lifeblood plasmic energetic force and source power energetics.

I embody this position, which is my true identity and thus ‘disintegrate’ the presumption of man, humanity, the mind and thus the nonsense and become the Oneself Onesense,

the Being which projects any sort of imagination or ideation from and as itself ‘disguised’ as ‘something else’. These false garments, the projections they are, fall away in the focusing of consciousness-awareness as that which Is, which reveals these ‘garments’ or ‘phenomenal realities’ to be distortions, flames, hallucinations, illusions of light – which I believe that I am perceiving in the imaginative quality and ability of the mind and the sense-body – which too, is a projection of imaginative quality and potential from Being- Consciousness, as, Ultimately, Being-Consciousness.

In this position, of course, all ‘others’ and the conjecture and conception of ‘another’ as in a separation or a ‘cut cord’ of Tantra as a paradox or oxymoronic mentality is, too, obliterated and the entire Self-Body-Cosmos is entirely whole and alive as life Itself indistinguishable. From this place, the self is reunified with and as the power of its true form, The Self. It identifies with and as that which it truly is, and returns or recedes back into itself, Nature, The Self, The Absolute Reality, life Itself. In this sense, the ego is simultaneously obliterated and elevated to its rightful place as in an absorption into the whole which grants true powers of vision, sight, and action. This is to say, to the one who Becomes Nature Itself; the one who Is Being and identified as thus within Itself, Himself.

From this place, I acquire tremendous focus and acuity as I see clearly, know clearly, and have broken the nonexistent teleology which is dependent upon fragmentation and partial sight, half sight, the object-subject bounds and and such ‘pseudo-fissure’ of consciousness which supposes a ‘without’ ‘elsewhere’, ‘to be acquired or found’. In this way, I move beyond teleological suspension into the immediacy of action, Becoming Nature – embodying the playing paradox – by way of the knowledge of awareness which itself is acquired only by meditation upon the true identity and inquiry into the false selves, or, rather, the selves that are at play as constellations about the Ultimate Reality – as faces, masks, characters, creations, stages, plays of Being.

Acting from this place of centred awareness, or Shiva in meditation, I am Being itself and thus never acting but as a play, but as a playing in the infinite sandbox of the Divine in and through which things are realized and derealized as seasons of the mind – seasons of catchings: projections and abjections, turning abouts and aways, as Natural as the rising and falling of the leaves of trees, the seeds of flowers, and the rising and falling of empires and bodies of earth. From this place I have obliterated space and time as conceptual realities and work directly within and as Being itself – playing even in the face of the ‘dearest’ or ‘greatest’ casual and causal notions of meaning. From here, I know nothing and everything is possible in the most practical manner possible – from the metaphysical overhang which is the realization of Oneself as Being and incorporating this realization into everyday life. This is to say – that consciousness is shot through the bounds of the temporal and inhabits the infinite as its very truth and identity – the very consciousness that inhabits ‘this body’ and ‘This Body’ as in the entire universal whole. One recognizes itself as the other and is obliterated into the indistinguishability of the Wholly Oneself. It acts seamlessly and fluidly as Nature itself and in this sense is availed fantastic powers of creation, regeneration, love, and understanding – by way of metacognitively understanding this seasonal play as Itself – and furthermore, that the seasonal play is occurring within Itself as a play, a projection, a display or representation of the power and affinity of the will of creation acting freely about itself to birth, to fuck, to generate creative action, force, willpower, and so forth as in rising and falling figures gesturing about the stage in mad grasps for power and influence and sway, and so forth.

Therein, the channeling of the creative action is the practice and process of finding and feeling and becoming Oneself the very flow of this energetic fluid and force as in a movement away from ‘image based identification’ into embodied Nature – which is a lived death of everything (as conceptual realities) that are projections of and from the pure life force energy itself which is the only ‘thing’ that exists as

in the Tantric thread or the plasmic fluid of creation, existence, Oneself. One is always already this, but puts conceptual gauze about the energetic body to convict it of a permanence, a presence, a ‘reality’ which is supposedly ‘fixed’ or ‘phenomenal’ or ‘present’ as a thing – and not rather an energetic movement of energetic movement. In this sense, nothing about the energy is fixed, but rather it is perpetually energized, ready to move, ready to act, ready to change, definitionless. From this state, pure action is always possible and always here as in a felt state of true energetic channeling without definition, judgement, or confinement to conceptual realities. It is, and it flows freely and fluidly as in Nature Itself. The tapping into this force and fount is rather not a ‘building’, but a stripping away of the conceptual garments one has built, or the castles in the sand or imaginative games one has played and attempted to solidify (or otherwise forgotten) about the energetic body, which, knowingly or unknowingly, has confined it to a ‘defined’ space of play which are the ‘bounds’ of one’s own existence as in a ‘pseudo-real’ spatio-temporal ‘playground’ – with defined rules, edges, and ‘realities’ which conform and compose limits, or aqueducts, of energetic potential. These energies, rather, are perennially and perpetually unbound as imagination itself; furthermore, desperate to be freely expressed: without judgement, without definition, without confinement – which is to say, to be lived fully and to their utmost as in the call to life itself from life itself which is alive as in life right now as in this very moment. This call is the call which is – beneath the various voices and disguises and costumes and identifications of the surface mind and surface visions and the surfeit bounds and borders of the conceptual ‘realities’ called, ‘the world today’ and all of the structures emergent therein with pseudo- borders and bounds which compose the cities, nations, economies, social structures, cultures, and so forth and their distinguishment – from the very mechanism of conceptualizing ‘self and other’, ‘heaven and earth’, and so forth.

APPROACHING THE ANIMAL:

The consciousness that is playing an animal that does not remember it is consciousness.
‘Brando seems to operate in another level of existence. He looks at the audience, camera, and Cavett like they are circus animals playing humans’ – user: Syber-VHS on YouTube video, ‘Marlon Brando Talks About Acting To Survive: The Dick Cavett Show’
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I, Shiva Torch in the heart of your breast Torch in the heart of your womb Perfect breath In perfect meditation I am moveless I, Shiva Lotus flower sitting In the ocean of your heart Massive, beating heart I, Shiva Your blood Plasma of the universe I enter you With the shaft Of pure creative action Bold creator Within bold creation Bold creator Who is bold creation I charge headfirst into the fray. So was commanded Arjuna Forefather Passed down to me Ancient task Of the quickening pulse I charge forward And plunge the blade into the bleeding heart Shuddering mouth The sublime nature of violence Is a joke The breath Up and down Like a scale Of infinite number A chorus of angels In a war of blood revealing The truth is in the blood The body is a blood figure A blood angel

Flying Energetic Nimble And quick. The blood calls louder Than any language In private speech The action Does not translate To contented speech.

THE FASCISM OF NATURE

The fascination with genetics can be seen throughout history in racism, nationalism, ethnocentrism; notably, the eugenics movements.

Therein, of course, is the nonsense and oblivion of human nature – a human nature which is a biological ceiling from which very few ever become conscious of, nonetheless ‘escape’ – the ceiling which is the recognition of the animal as the one who is witnessing the unfolding of the animal – consciousness itself.

In this sense, I witness the body, I witness the page and the words upon it. I am not the body, I am not the ‘ego-self construction’ which is the thesis of the body-animal-self to describe itself, bound itself, define itself – but rather, I am that which witnesses all of these things.

To return to the fascism of nature – this is of course the fundamental affair and affairs of man since time immemorial; unchanged and unstained by political agendas, the nonsense of ideologies, and so forth. This will continue to be the fundamental affair of mankind until the end of mankind – sheer nature at the level of biological production and reproduction of the organism.

At foundation, man is nothing more or less than a machine of sex. Man is given the opportunity to become conscious of himself at root of his true nature, consciousness, and make an art out of his life as in residing in the place of his true nature, awareness, and living from that place.

This is what men and women do not wish to admit – that they are glad for and indulge in the fascism of their animal nature – for if they were not glad for it, they would not indulge in it. They would seek for higher; seek for greater awareness and knowledge of their true nature.

In this sense, the world is a perversion: one that is constructed of and for the perverse perspective and the perverse senses: pitted in a competition, embattled for supremacy; that the entirety of the operative social and political functions of the world (organisms vying for political and social power and visibility) are emergent from this fundamental fact of natural fascism. Even the so called ‘anti- fascists’ are themselves using the ideological pole and flag of ‘anti-fascism’ to indulge their private fascism in desire.

Therein, it does not matter what these men and women say and do – for at the very root of their animal engagement they are participating in, emergent from, and perennially

returning to the fascism of nature: which is to say, they are nothing more or less than unconscious nature acting itself out over and over again, on repeat. That their purpose is to reproduce or acquire the sexual status (which is all status and all power) – is to say that they are animal, remain animal, and are nothing more or less than that which is resident there.

In turn, the definition of ‘human’ is useless here. We can see that, throughout history, the term ‘human’ is a contested term, utilized, in turn, to justify social and political supremacy, as well as social and political slavery to those deemed ‘supreme’ or ‘ruler’ or ‘greater than’.

That we proceed from the fact that there is nothing essentially other than consciousness or pure energy, the constructions of the fascism of nature are precisely that which is proceeding naturally, unchecked, as in raw energy which is not being channeled, not being examined, not being consciously directed – but rather is flowing wildly and unbalanced – flowing entirely in and from the animal nature as proceeding from and in and as the unconscious-ly.

That man rises above his animal nature and above his ‘fellow men’ is that he acts and lives from the conscious root of awareness as in that which witnesses and remarks upon consciousness unfolding and acts directly and consciously as in a directing and direction of life force energy to and through various different channels and outlets of expression. This is the man who is the artist of life.

However, this is not to ignore or turn a blind eye to what is at work here. The timeless fashion of mankind is, again (at risk of overstating) the fascism of nature. Practically, at the most fundamental level, the ape-animal of man is born and dies in a ceaseless cycle and wheel of useless and worthless genetic reproduction: a scam of biology wherein the entire game and circus of mankind revolves around the penis and the vagina, the insemination and mating dance which is not only the madness of mankind and his circuses of cities and

empires and ‘love stories’, but, furthermore, the madness of nature in its mating cries, stalking preys, sprouting seeds, and other such cell splitting and cell intercoursing phenomena.

There is nothing special or beautiful about this. There is nothing fundamentally joyous or great about it. It is an unconscious process of nature acting unconsciously on a repetitive cycle and wheel as in a seasonality which is itself a purgatory or a hell of gross repetition without end. This fascism of nature which man so pretends he has nothing to do with or otherwise has nothing to do with him not only imbues his entire ‘life’ with meaning and purpose and value, but is precisely that which will remain, regardless of whether or not ‘man remains’.

Therein, the great work is becoming consciousness or identifying with the root of Being as in the one who witnesses and directs and holding this position in the face of all the mudslide and landslide and chaos and stupidity and utter inanity of the ‘natural’ unfolding as a fascistic parade which seems without end. In this sense, one directs energy and moves life force energy for his own ends – being conscious of the so called ‘lot’ set up for man and the genetic and biological proceedings of mankind which engender culture and society and politics with great big NOTHINGS. Dramas, inanities, repetitions, all surrounding the truth: the primary fascism of nature as in the production and reproduction of bodies posing as ‘men’ with dreams, desires, and so forth. They pit themselves against themselves, play out their fantasies, and rot in the earth.

The great work is the great work of art and it is the only true action possible in this life as in the direction of oneself absolutely toward conscious creation of life as in the direction of life force energy toward conscious ends: whichever these channels of and for expression they may be. Man, if he wishes to be free, must become conscious of the fascism of nature and with one pointed focus, reside in awareness and at each moment resist the fascism of nature.

For at each turn he will be faced with it, surely as the sun rises, the birds emerge in spring, and men continue to sprout from the fascist womb. Know this: that the very reproduction of man is the birth of fascism.

Again, the seeking after genetic material is the fascism of nature. It is seen at all fronts: the lion chasing the gazelle, the violent mating dances of men, rape, control, manipulation, the competition for supremacy among birds, gorillas, trees, weeds: all that which is ‘natural’ or ‘organic’ is vying for space – space to exist, grow, and reproduce.

This truth, however ‘inconvenient’ it is for the fantasies of those who choose to ignore this reality or otherwise call it ‘beautiful’ or pretend that (in that it ‘doesn’t exist’) they can play out their fantasies of what ‘human life’ is and looks like – is precisely that which is not being spoken as in the underpinnings of all human drama and games which arise and emerge from this silent reality. For to be faced with this would be all too much for the many: to understand their primary violence. Most would not be able to comprehend; the rest would either not care or plug their ears.

In that, in this sense, man is born ‘from sin’, he is surrounded by sin and within sin almost so thoroughly that he is walking in hell, that he lives in hell and must find it within him to rise out of hell like Dante and Virgil. To do so, man must turn his back entirely on the wheel of nature and become self sovereign: and in his becoming self sovereign to altogether do away with the unconscious game of his ‘humanity’ and create himself from the ashes of his raw animal form: to become the energetic body and learn how to direct and channel life force energy in order to create great works of art which use nature to remark upon nature and even transcend nature and forever alter it by residing in the true nature form, consciousness, like Job’s encounter with God as detailed and analyzed by Carl Jung.

In this sense, the self sovereign man’s work is always to act from awareness; in this sense, he does not reproduce the

Man’s only hope and potential is to transcend ‘nature’ as in to become Nature – to identify with Being as in consciousness and altogether remove himself from the play of the animality of ‘nature’, or the dance of becoming which is absolutely unconscious of itself and as such tears itself apart in the fear of unknowing – going to war with itself, murdering itself, fighting itself, all in a fever dream of consciousness which proceeds like the lifespan, like the seasons: birth, war, and death. Only in his recognition of this game being played at the very root of his animal biology and sex, will he consciously begin to work with this primordial life force energy as in consciousness and begin to direct it by himself – to refuse it to be wasted in repetitious cycles causing despair and impermanence; instead to focus it on the one pointedness, the infinite spiritual art of

contemplating the Infinite: the consciousness which contemplates the nature of itself; in doing so, is a Michelangelo of Awareness – as he works with higher materials, directing his sexual energy into creative force and thrust one pointedly into inquiry and channeling of his root nature, the very source and essence consciousness-desire- drive-life-force-sex-energy which was hitherto unconsciously thrown into the natural void of the very birth of fascism itself: the reproductive march of ‘time’ amongst ‘men’: that which composes the entirety of their culture, politics, and society. To turn oneself away from this is to truly begin the birth of something more, something greater – the project of the Nietzschean Ubermensch.

Any escalation of the fascism of nature at the level of the individual or the collective in terms of social and political ‘human’ movements is just that: an extremism as in an accentuation of that which already ‘is’ and ‘was’ – the fascism of nature manifest itself as in escalating aesthetically- reproductive dimensions of human consciousness and awareness. This process, of course, is used for and utilized by individual and political gain, control, manipulation, and power.

“It is proper for a man to overlook all things of the world, for according to those who understand, everything is vain and empty and not worth taking vengeance for” — Maimonides (Laws Concerning Character Traits)

If there were no eternal consciousness in a man, if at the bottom of everything there were only a wild ferment, a power that twisting in the dark passions produced everything great or inconsequential; if an unfathomable, insatiable emptiness lay hid beneath everything, what then would life be but despair? If it were thus, if there were no sacred bond uniting mankind, if one generation rose up after another like the leaves of the forest, if one generation succeeded the other as the songs of birds in the woods, if the human race passed through the world as a ship through the sea or the wind through the desert, a thoughtless and fruitless whim, if an eternal oblivion always lurked hungrily for its prey and there were no power strong enough to wrest it from its clutches—how empty and devoid of comfort would life be! But for that reason it is not so, and as God created man and woman, so too he shaped the hero and the poet or speech-maker.

Soren Kierkegaard
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HARDENED BY THE CRUCIBLE OF SPIRITUAL TRIALS

You have not had to nor have you undergone these trials - raised and provided for by those who caught you and were able to catch you at each moment - to ease your fall from short heights - a fall which was a practical one, a material one, a fall of this world. A man who undergoes the dialectical redoubling and wrestles with god falls in an abyss; he falls from the greatest heights into the greatest valleys; his fall is from groundlessness to groundlessness; wherever he turns, there is no man or woman or structure to cushion his fall or assuage him of the blows. This is to say - he falls truly; in that he falls truly he flies in his solitude; his solitude is magnificent in that he fashions himself with the chisel of these blows and his calloused hands of the true, metaphysical falling - this falling that cannot be cured by conditions - becomes the creator of his own life by necessity, by confrontation with the very root and foundation of creation itself wherein there is no exit, no distraction, no convenient maneuver or worn path through, no material house or place to stay.

Only he can be called man; the latter is called wo-man, or the one fashioned of him, the one submitted to him forever more in that he undergoes and has undergone the trials that she could not, would not; in her heart of hearts knows that she could not and would not confront - as such trials and redoublings upon her spirit, mind, body, and flesh would rend her from herself in the struggle which is a perpetual redoubling of fortitude and faith which fashions man, iron and steel, built in the grace of faith wherein others would not dare tread - as it would mean treading where the land is groundless and the world becomes the most feared dark image; wherein the shrouded beast of the nether regions of the unconscious emerges, bold, terrifying, lashing its mouth about the skies and blocking out the sun. Those who do not go there are called wo-man; those who do are called men. And they go because they are called, they go because they

TOTEMS

“I am not insentient, since my nature consists only of consciousness”; “I am not bound by actions, on the contrary, since I am free, they are simply an expression of my Power of Action”; I am not endowed with maculation, indeed, it is nothing but a game to hide my own nature”; “I am not impelled [to act by others], in fact, there is no one apart from me, since [my] true nature consists of a perfectly full consciousness” - Abhinavagupta

Trust the timing of your life.

Bashar

I. ‘The body’ is the field of representation whereupon and within that which it is inscribed (the will, the consciousness, the life force energy) as in writ upon within the surface/surfeit of ‘the body’ is described as ‘reality’. II. Everything is foreplay so treat it as such! - foreplay is the sex act of becoming. III. It is already done.

IV. Everything is symbolic of the essential animating force and yet stillness of consciousness. It need only reflect upon itself – for it is Itself, Oneself. V. In every moment I am like Moses parting the sea. VI. Let everything come and go without attachment, without judgement. VII. Prepare me for that which you are preparing me for, God – shape me to fulfill your purpose. 45 VIII. Single pointed focus on your purpose.

IX. People fear unknowing because it opens you up to life, to being vulnerable. Being open is life. Being open is the loss of the false ‘ground’ of knowledge of ANYTHING. X. The only true safety is in the unknowing; the unknowing is reality. XI. The hive mind seeks to regulate and codify behavior based on its own perceived limits, arbitrated sets of rules and boundaries which form and conform it to its perceived and perceiving and perception of ‘reality’ – which is also its ‘legality’. XII. The ‘character’ you are playing, your stage, your role, is the constellation of ‘your stars’, or the state of your psyche in relation to itself, consciousness. This relation is absolutely alterable at any given moment and entirely fluid and malleable – as it is pure consciousness itself. It need only remember itself, this essential form and formation which in turn constellates ‘all things’; the perceived apparence of ‘all things’ as psychic formulations and constellations of the conception of ‘being’ in accord to and with its awareness of itself.

"Act in such a way that you treat humanity [life, consciousness], whether in your own person or in the person of any other, never merely as a means to an end, but always at the same time as an end."

Immanuel Kant (brackets in quote added as re-marking(s))
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The above quote says: treat consciousness as whole and holistic: that it cannot be used, commodified, bought, sold, submitted to an economy, hierarchy, or some other designation of power, control, manipulation, domination, or submission. Consciousness is itself whole and Itself Everywhere and All At Once; the realization of this is the practice of it – the walking of the path. In this way, even if conditions present themselves to indulge in this pseudo- ‘economy’ of bodies or products or materials or forms, the true ethic is to deny this practice as an illusion and as illusory content which ensnares by way of its fractured, societal, even global practice of commodification and marketplace-making of human life and life itself.

To elaborate on Kant, life itself cannot be used, there is no utility for it; furthermore, that there is no desire that can be fulfilled but as a series of dreams or illusions all of which hold the full karmic weight of a leverage, an opposition which is the imagined state in relation to the Real state (the level whole of Consciousness as in the scales of the heart and feather) – and in the weight of this leverage of the shadow of the dream the dream of the shadow emerges on the other end of this weight and scale: the equal and opposite reaction to this leveraging of utility – the creation of profit and loss. Profit and loss is the outcome of the ‘original sin’, or the unbalancing of the scales by way of the Edenic temptation, or the compulsion to or the taking in of the desired object by way of the synthetic procreation of the desired object within and as a mind-form – a mind form which, upon ‘creation’, forms a shadow in the light of consciousness as in the sun, as in a pseudo separation. This shadow is the shadow of the figure or figuration of consciousness taking a ‘separative’ stance, or a stance in which the ethical or moral quality is introduced: the creation of a ‘relationship’ where there is only One(ness) and Wholly(ness) as in Absolute Being(ness). This is a phenomenal state, a phenomenal relation: which arises in accord in the belief of relation as in the sensual state: the touch, taste, smell, sight – the sensual aspect of the biological-organismic body which is always already in revelation of itself, taking in itself, being itself –

‘observing’ the ‘world’ that is always already itself – and that, phenomenologically, only appears to take on ‘separate form’. Neumenologically, it is in and as pneumenal union: or union as in the energetic quality or pulsing or breathing of the Creation-Universal-Whole itself only seemingly ‘broken up’ into distinguished and distinguishable qualities and quantities.

In relation to such human behaviors as sexuality and consumption: one is only ever fucking or feeding upon itself and as such must develop a practical ethics or higher valuation of life predicated upon this principle – as a manner and method of treatment of life as treatment of self as Self – the already and a priori unified state and condition of Being – which is, in this sense, stateless and unconditional – or the state(lesness) of True Love: The Energetic Nature of Reality.

In this sense, the treatment of fellow man, animal, plant, planet, being, form, seen and unseen, apparent and wind and ghost and spectre, past, present and future is always already a treatment of Oneself as in the synthetic ‘projection’ of Onself into ‘twoself’ – or the image, reflection, mirror, or ‘other’ wherein the ‘desire’ or ‘desirable quality’ is said or believed to reside.

With this vision, man develops a senseless sense, which is a relation to and as Being conducted at the level of the metaphysical, metacognitive – brought into practice as in Living In And As Reality seamlessly – and becomes himself that which he always already was and is consciously, the syncretic thread Being Itself, the very life force energy which is, energetically, boundless and borderless and Itself the very Beingness in and through which all ‘things’ take their form and threaded apparance and disapparence; that which is itself the thread of the drive – or the thrumming, pulsating force of life itself; the taking of the true form of the drive itself which is the obliteration of ‘desire’ as in a projection of belief in ‘another’ into the objective ‘other’ wherein which holds (supposedly) something missing or desirable to the

subject now questioning or beholding or desiring the ‘object’ synthesis. The taking of the true form of the drive is then that everything is and appears as Oneself and the ethics of this realization emerge Naturally – in that Nature is whole at the sphere and realm of perception; metacognition of life and One’s relationship to Oneself – life’s relationship to life itself as in a vision of wholeness.

In this way, even if a ‘condition’ emerges wherein one is being asked to objectify Oneself, one is faced only and forever with this question: to lie, or to submit to an illusion or to refuse the illusion in the name of remaining in the light and sight of The Real – wherein there is no possible treatment, staged or not, of Oneself (or conceptualized as ‘another’) which is not in light of wholeness and thus without implication at the level of consciousness, at the level of life, as a demean-ment, debasement, or some otherwise distortion or play of consciousness which does not have implications (at whichever level, cosmological or psychological) at the level of the individual/being in question as Being itself. In this way, there cannot be any sort of treatment or behavior or action which does not occur beholding and behelding the Truth of the Ideal, or the Oneself Consciousness – the Ideal which is Eternally Real and Whole – despite the various different tricks and distortions that may be played or playing therein as unfoldments which themselves are always already progressing toward a remembrance of that which they are, as a dog chasing its tail without moving.

The Being itself never moves and never changes and thus is the Ideal Itself without any achievement, function, or purpose. In this way it is stainless, fixed, or (as I have otherwise metaphized it) the impossible chrome of life – which is not only ‘possible’, but the only True and Real Reality – wherein thousands of conjectures or heads emerge as ‘symptoms’, claiming themselves to have true knowledge or true idea. There is no such true knowledge or true idea, but the knowledge or the idea is itself ineffably true as being a part of the whole, or manifest or ‘representation’ Whole

Itself. It is this way with bodies, figures, forms, and so forth. The very mind itself is representation of Oneness in that it can ceaselessly manifest thoughts: thoughts which are ultimately images, arts, productions, all of which are in reference to, symbolic of, and ultimately only Oneness Itself taking various different forms and manifestations. All ghosts and spectres in this sense are consciousness proper; all ghosts and spectres in this sense are ‘materializations’ in an impossible sphere of ‘materiality’ which is only the phenomenal illusion or ‘separation’ of consciousness from itself vis-à-vis ‘perception’, or the belief that such whole knowledge or idea can be formed or beheld by the very sensate body-sense-body which is itself a reproduction, or representation of the a priori, primary, eternal form- formlessness body, Being Itself. Each body in this sense is in reference to the Eternal Body-Body-Less-Ness; Beingness; as such, it does not exist but as and in this higher form. Any categorization or definition as such of the body is an arbitration in an arbitrationless Wholeness; as such, any categorization or definition as such of the body is simultaneously meaninglessly and entirely false and yet the very utterance or breath or mind or flesh that gestures them is very close to the truth of the matter – that which is itself the first representation from which chains of representation emerge in painting, gesture, language, relation, et cetera.

We must not get lost in the chains of these ‘meanings’ – all of which are degrees of meaninglessness – and instead return entirely to the ‘first conception’, or the ‘immaculate conception’ of the body within the body of consciousness, or the pseudo- first ‘separation’ of the spirit and the flesh. The flesh is itself primary symbol of spirit; as such, it is the crux or cross or first degree that we meet the ethical, or that which and upon which and through which and within which we meet the spirit, the revelation of consciousness; that which is primary temptation or illusoress – the mistress of the spirit – or that which it is intercoursing through, as, meeting – the vessel through which it perceives itself. We hug close to the body as it is the mechanism of perception of consciousness, even as all ‘perceptions’ of consciousness are

partial; that the revelation of consciousness comes in the very realization of this ‘symptomatic’ aspect and nature of the body as that which is ‘torn’ between the desires of the flesh and the true nature of the flesh: the spirit. The desires of the flesh emerge in their own ‘organic’ teleology, as nature’s ontologies: the progression of nature’s rhythmic language and knowledge making and knowledge breaking process; that we identify with these processes is that we identify with a ceaseless cycle of seasonalities – that which is natural, but is not Nature itself as in the thrust or Beingness or Nature of nature. For nature unfolds as an action, but nature is not the actor Itself, whom we could name ‘Nature’ – nature is the affect or the phenomenonality of Nature – but in observing the changing we observe the thread or seed of the Changeless; that Changeless-ness is that which we observe as ‘the end’, as well as Being ‘the middle’, and ‘the beginning’ – not only ‘the present’, but ‘the past’, and ‘the future’ – the One that is also ‘three’: Creation, Maintenance, Destruction: the cross (or rising) of the seasonal threshold, the emerging of the seasonal quality, and the falling of the seasonal quality into the next movement.

That the being identifies itself as Being it reconciles the ‘desires’ of the flesh and the true nature of the flesh: the spirit. This reconciliation occurs at the level of the metacognitive, where the ethical emerges as an understanding of how and why to behave in accord with and as the Natural – a behavior which is always already done, complete, and perfect – a behavior which emerges from that which is beyond the ‘seasonal’ – that which is the seed and root of the wheel or the cycle itself: the very motor, drive, force, life force, and I behind the speech mechanism which itself creates – the I behind all things, bodies, beings, and ‘manifestations’: the I which is the eye of all things, animals, plants, humans, planets, planes. As such, an ethics emerges wherein all things are treated as The Reality: that they are Oneself and thus irreducibly and indistinguishably ‘I-self’, Myself, and cannot be used, exploited, hierarchi-zed or manipulated in any such way – even if they appear to be asking to be organized and used as such. For the

appearance of desire is that which is already ‘the beginning’ and ‘the end’ – the realization of Oneself – and that all treatment is already Oneself.

There is no way around this, because it sees Itself. It observes Itself acting and as such is a massive ecosystem of Self-Realization: behavior wherein Self-Realization and right action ripple throughout – a vast lake or ocean of consciousness wherein right action is ‘the key’, or the proceeding properly from the metaphysical, metacognitive realization of Oneness is the right treatment of OneSelf (as both and irreducibly, indistinguishably ‘self’ and ‘other’). This is the path. Temptation can be identified thusly: anything that asks or commands ‘separative’ treatment as in the pretense or pretending that such Oneness does not exist; that one’s own behavior is not one’s own behavior toward onself, Oneself. Regardless of the scenario or ‘scene’ – there is either the entrance into the play of illusion (or the play of false separation, ‘acted’ or ‘serious’, there is no difference – the action itself is the behavior, or the life force) or the refusal of the play of illusion (the refusal to participate in such plays, games, of desire and the following to the One- Self-Realization). For all are actors in their own right; the actor of OneSelf is the actor who acts in light of the direction of the universality of the I-Consciousness – the unbounded, unending Nature of Himself that commands, discerns, and is, at the root of himself as the drive – the root which is self-realization at the energetic level – True and Right Action.

You must believe in nothing Fall for nothing Keep your hands clean Stainless Like the true nature of reality All things are a joke That jokingly hide their true nature A dance which appears to be form

What is there to know? I attach myself to nothing I am not even a window Not even a door But I am an airflow A current A ceaseless shaft A needle and a thread Through which I weave myself endlessly into all things Any material that I am You can think of all things as composed of me A world of wool A world of wood A world of wax A world of sand And I am the furthestmost and nearestmost atomic element Which dissolves all things into my breast If they all come from me, and they are all composed of me, What am I? Do not even fall for my riddle: For I speak everywhere, I am all around The sages use words to describe me; The entire world is my metaphor. The entire mind is my network I weave incredible lies posing as truths I weave incredibly myths posing as knowledge And the further into me you travel, my fractal The more lost you get in the meanings I weave The stories I tell The scenes I sieve

Myself through existence so thoroughly that it appears that I am all that is not When I am simultaneously all that is and will ever be All that has been and is to come All that will come to pass: I am the simplest form of prophecy: I am the source and essence of all things – Their chromatic splendor And yet something entirely simple and unremarkable As a seed of potential From which unknown trees sprout Remembered branches and roots of the seedness That is me.

Do not get lost in me! The dreams I weave and the tales I tell are like a cauldron Or a labyrinth All of the ingredients are mistaken for distinct elements By the lazy eyes and ears The untrained nose and hands That know me by names so convinced that they are trained But in the methods of this world-making The sorting of imagination, the sorting of the senses: The hot and the cold, the good and the evil, the right and the wrong All emerge from me but are products of a half knowledge of that which I am: A mistaking of the symptom for the root and source. Touch my hand And you will touch me But know it to be ‘my hand’ And you will see me only out of the corner of your eye. I am like a spectre: I am everpresent and yet your senses sense me here Dormant, waiting Like the soul of a chair Or the radiance of a bare lightbulb. My energy flows seamlessly; I am old in stone and young in the cries of a newborn baby bird – My vibrance ebbs and flows like a wavelength.

Reach out! Touch my hand and know me to be God Everywhere, everpresent in all things: Know me, and watch your world change. Walk with me, shedding the clothes of this world And watch the spirit move with your inner eyes, So entwined with me, The whole body become eyes: The doorway eyes, The tree eyes, The birdsong eyes: My hand touching every fabric and bringing the whole thing to life In missive poetic gesture In the earthquaking which is the spirit entering the flesh: Who will make the flesh alive like a song within a stone Or a beating heart within the throbbing temple of the center of the earth – The catacomb where I flow soft Or the orgasm of the city where I beat and tear at the flesh of the skin like a drum Call, call, call! My ancient name is anything you like in rhythm; Call again and watch me rise like the blood to the roof of your mouth – The mouth which is agape like centuries And know me to be the very essence and bloodsport of infinity Numberless, nameless, faceless, placeless And yet your fabric of lovemaking, your fabric of lost hours and half shades: Drawn over the balls of your eyes The geometry of your heart Manifest in the odds and ends of skyscrapers and insane asylums Childrens’ toys and caskets No death of mine: only the illusion of name and space and time. Immediate is who I am And before language I am first

And after language I am last: I stand between the bridge of the alphabet And the bridge of bodies And witness their exhaustion Catching them in their spinning dance And birthing them in their spinning dance The vowels spat out like breaths And received in the inner chamber To be reduced to ash And born again In the fire of spirit

i can have thoughts or silence, in my understanding of the true value of thoughts. they acquire the quality of white noise - they are even soothing in their flow.

the mind thinks to itself: ‘how else can it trick [me]?’

the mind plays games of consciousness for fun - to show itself where it stands in relation to itself, the whole, consciousness - that which forms even the conjecture of the mind. the dialectic: mind and consciousness - form and the formlessness which ‘produces’ the theatre of the mind and its various dramas, babbling, soliloquys.

when the mind wanders, unfocused: ‘live between two breaths’ - swami lakshmanjoo

‘Believe me! To remain conscious within the dream requires a considerable effort. In addition, the perceived emotions during the dream are very real. If you are terrorized, you really are; you perceive the terror, and it is difficult to face up to things. Finally, the greatest lesson of the lucid dream does not reside as such in the demand for lucidity. So, do not forget that without lucidity, nothing is possible. Thus, as I said, from the instant when one lets oneself be caught up by the experience one crosses into, the dream absorbs us, and the lucidity that was the only guarantor of this initiation dimension ends. The magic we have called forth does not operate except by detachment. What makes the game possible is the lucidity of the witness, whereas identification with consensus reality, on the contrary, shrinks existence and reduces the realm of possibility. In dreams, as in daily life, the same laws operate: The more one is detached, the more one can enjoy perceiving all of existence as a vast playground. The less one is detached, the more life turns into a dead end.

Dreaming thus taught me, paradoxically, to wake up and maintain a lucid current as a thread of existence, even if this requires a major effort. Because God knows how marvelous life can be when one is, above all, open to its magic! The danger of identification is the temptation to let oneself be captured by the spell as one opens up. On the other hand, lucidity strengthens itself with practice.’ – Jodorowsky

‘The powers of the mind are like rays of light being dissipated; when they are concentrated they illumine everything.’ – Swami Vivekananda

There is no wounding at the level of the psychic or luminous body.

There is nothing to renounce – I cannot gain or lose anything. All that exists is me. I am eternally whole.

In this sense, the physical body and physical world is composed of maintenance. I maintain the physical body and the physical world as myself.

The physical and body have functions which are discriminatory and eliminatory – I fulfill these functions as valves of existence through which creation is processing itself; producing, consuming, and creating anew from the ashes of ‘what was’ on an endless cycle known as ‘nature’.

At the level of the psychic, I reside. My desires are projections 'from without me’; that which I desire is always already an inverse reflection of ‘myself’ conception – that which I have ‘disowned’ or do not yet already know as myself. Incorporating all that is is myself knowledge; accordingly I find myself, exceedingly, in situations wherein my true self knowledge is reflected outwardly back to me, as a painting reflects the thought form, gesture, and remarking of the painter upon the canvas of reality.

Therein, I am Creation Itself; my identification proceeds in the ‘physical’ as a manifestation of my state of psychic self recognition of myself as OneSelf, Whole. I cannot want nothing or lack nothing – I am all things themselves.

In this way, when one thinks from want or lack, they are thinking in illusion and under the presumption that they do not already have or are not already that which they need or want, Consciousness itself, OneSelf, WholeSelf – that there has been some sort of fragmentation, separation, division, of consciousness from itself.

This is the illusory perception of the body and its senses being ‘separate’ from the senses of the ‘world-object- other(s)’.

One must unlearn this method of false seeing and continually abide in true self knowledge of Wholeness, Oneness; live accordingly wanting and needing nothing.

From the level of the body, the body responds because it requires release of the valves of energy and circulation of the blood in order to function: movement of the body (exercise), ejaculation or orgasm (discharge of sexual energy), evacuation of bowels and bladder (waste products consumed and producing libidinal energy continuing), and ingestion of said food and nutriments in order to sustain the physical form. The physical form is a condensation or a coming together of energy into an energetic body which requires continual circulation and maintenance in order to survive.

In this sense, the psychic body or consciousness is the ‘manager’ or ‘director’ of the play of the physical in that it continually constructs and creates the coming together and coming apart of densities forming the energetic dimension of ‘reality’ observed and observable as the ‘phenomenal’ taking various forms as stones, bodies, water, trees, and so forth. The psychic body, at root and whole, is consciousness itself; as such is not ‘separate’ or ‘separative’ into individual bodies or forms but is itself One Mind, One Body, One Self. It functions in a network of constellations, or nodes of consciousness which form and function at different densities and in different vibratory qualities which are its awarenesses of itself as that which is. In this sense, the One Mind resembles a brain or a neural network. Self knowledge is that which ‘taps in’ to the neural network meta-cognitively meta-consciously in recognition of that which it is and operates and directs itself as consciousness accordingly and with the energetic principles of existence, or metaphysicality.

The densities and vibratory qualities resonate on specific levels of existence wherein they can hear, see, and sense one another as oneself, themselves, and thus come together and relate or form ‘communities’. So it is with sand, souls, people, species, elements, and so forth. The thermodynamic principle is continually at work and draws one molecule, node, cell, or body, to and from another in accord to and with the vibratory or heated quality about them. Therein, consciousness functions (at a spiritual level) at a high vibratory quality in recognition and incorporation (or active embodiment, practice, lifeworking) of that which it is. This is self realization.

In this way, I cannot lack or want anything, but by way of the principles of nature I draw toward myself that which is in accord with my self recognition and self knowledge and self-enaction of said self recognition and knowledge; repel from myself that which is not in accord with my self recognition and self knowledge and self-enaction. However, this is merely an ordering principle – even that which is ‘least like me’ in vibratory quality is still me, but is organized at another level of consciousness. In this way, some people do not understand cats, or some people do not understand trees, or some people do not understand certain other people. They are, quite literally, functioning at another atomic density; as such, the quality of their communication and presence and relative nature is at another frequency – wherein a certain type of radio or ear may not be tuning in or attuning to or attuned to.

In this way, nature proceeds naturally and I am simultaneously a node of the One Mind and the One Mind itself; simultaneously a fractal of the One Mind and the fractal-One-Mind itself – and proceeding from this knowledge and living as this knowledge entails, in a natural process of Becoming, drawing toward myself that which is resonant in and at that field or plane or dimension of relative awareness of consciousness itself. It is in this way that a node or a nodal body or a ‘physical body’ or a ‘manifestation’ forms – in the like-drawing-like synthesis of a

form or a figure which is a vibratory body of consciousness which ‘appears’ (at the level of phenomenal perception, sense perception) to be separate, distinguished, individual – and rather not a nodal mind or swarm of energy functioning at a density and heated quality of particular acceleration to form ‘the form itself’.

In this way, ‘separation’ is rather an elaborate illusion which, with, correspondingly, comes the conviction of something to be lost, gained, and even (at the level of the body), maintained. Maintenance at the level of the body is the ‘truest illusion’, in that the body itself acts as the ‘coming-together’ vessel through which consciousness perceives itself, or the nodal point through which necessity and necessarily must be maintained in order to continue to ‘come together’ or else be dissolved, quite literally, into the earth, and the corresponding elements, cells, and molecular- energetic particulars which swarmed-came-together to form the ‘existent’ energetic body in an intercourse which, rather, does not cease ‘intercoursing’, but rather continues to intercourse in a concentrated state (the ‘physical body formation’) or in a diffuse state (the ‘returned to consciousness formation’, or the returned to earth, molecular, energetic particulars formation, which might also be called a ‘de-formation’). But, therein, there has rather been no formation or de-formation, but rather a nodalization, a focusing, a constellation, a coming-together, of that which is simultaneously microcosmically, molecularly diffuse (atomic consciousness, ‘star’ quality, ‘plasma’, and so forth) – and macrocosmically whole or already formed, the Energetic Being or Psychic Nature which neither forms nor de-forms, but rather produces psychic thought forms or nodes of consciousness which are concentrated loci of consciousness which rise and fall as points of energetic concentration (formations of ‘body’).

the vibratory quality of existence , views all things as the same, consciousness, just vibrating at different speeds qualities frequencies registers

‘projection is the play of the mind’

Local and mass projection events: walking away from humanity Projection of inner energetic state or standing with self

^ the whole thing is its an illusion, its not real - its a projection. walk away, ignore, altogether act like it doesnt exist and isnt real - because it isnt - its a film being projected by mind which isnt in accord with or knowing of itself (as whole-mind, one mind) - and as such is projecting an illusory and imagined wound of separation (shame, guilt, judgement, duality consciousness) where there is only oneself and onesoul. such minds are wounded by their own misinterpretation, and as such, create woundedness as a state and as a way of their own being. it becomes their false, imagined, self concept identity. the healing of this is the realization of oneness. it is also the turning away from the illusions and misapperceptions of mankind. it is the refusal to participate in their game of separation and woundedness

the back and forth of shame and guilt and judgement as a self and other pseudo-bifurcation, imagined split, separation, duality. oneself consciousness is energetically whole. there is nothing and no one else. self is all, consciousness is all. consciousness itself is; the ‘pseudo- forms’ which consciousness takes, such as thought forms, imaginations, bodies, et cetera, are pure consciousness which ‘appears to take on’ separative form. the true form itself, consciousness, is pure formlessness. in this way, it can take on any shape, guise, imagination - so well and so thoroughly that it gets mistaken for its self concept, image, or appearance or disguise (human, rock, idea) - so well that the audience of consciousness forgets that it is witnessing itself consciousness and becomes so enamored in and by this play of becoming (or the shifting sands of imagination- imaginative consciousness moving-making-living-breathing-
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being) that it forgets that which it is, that which it is - the true nature and self of all things, as all things. this forgetting is the ‘separative’ quality of duality consciousness (or ‘unconscious’ consciousness, consciousness which has forgotten itself) - and thus is that which is always already enamored with that which it has ‘forgotten’ of and in and as itself, projected and conjectured as ‘another’, or ‘the other’. this is the function of ‘desire’, ultimately toward the remembrance of oneness.

the sage, in this sense and way, practices discernment unto wholeness - or the ability to quickly identify duality consciousness and remember oneness within and as himself

to return by way of the breath or detachment to the center, the source, the self, the pure consciousness which at all elements and angles is the composer and director and composition of the play (in the molecular and being the creator) - and thus resides with and as the true source and does not get caught up in the play of imagination or separative consciousness, but rather resides, identifies, and abides in and as pure consciousness itself - the formless form which composes the illusion of all things. in this sense, the sage does not get caught up in illusions, but rather resides at the source and centre of the creation of illusions (wherefrom they ‘are projected’), the source and centre of creation itself, being itself. the separative consciousness identifies and resides in the midst of this play as ‘becoming’ (that which is enamored with projections of self - name, number, quality, quantity, borders, definition, etc). the pure consciousness resides in pure being, silence, stillness, wholeness. therein, the mind ceases - and exists as itself, wholeself. therein, there are no thoughts, reasons, judgements - but rather the peace of true self knowledge - as one is the witness of the play, knowing the play to be just a play. in this way, comedy and tragedy are one; furthermore, neither is ‘emotional’, but for the sage’s play with the colors of emotion if he so wishes to partake in the play of becoming. but he does so with the ultimate knowledge of detachment, knowing this play to be just a play; that he himself is rather Self, Consciousness, and that these names and plays and games of mankind are just
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that - equally projections of light which only take on the illusion of meaning upon the illusion of (always already false) interpretation. in this knowledge, man is free; furthermore, he is able to be truly creative in that he does not become attached to anything. he moves with the freedom of the true knowledge of himself which in at any and all moments, even in the face of the synthetic dramas, roles, families, and gossip and religious judgements of humanity, is his true abiding place and abode, where he dwells - in and as pure consciousness. therein, there is no possible desire, as he is all that is - as pure consciousness knows no bounds other than that which it (falsely) imagines for itself in the unconscious dream-state of duality consciousness.

it could be said that this is precisely why ‘the human being’ imagines itself from and as consciousness - to experience and work with duality consciousness (the construct of the ‘human entity/sense-body’) - in order to come into greater understanding of the dialectical redoubling of consciousness

or the play of ‘splitting’ or creating pseudo binary and duality ‘games’ in order to create further mastery and knowing and creating into embodied practice of the true nature: wholeness, oneselfness. to know oneself as whole and to embody oneself as whole is to metacognitively and metaconsciously embody mastery of oneself through paradox and synthesis of oneself through immanent knowledge of paradox. such a state and condition is at the cutting edge of consciousness; is itself the highest metaphysical technology as nature becoming Nature Being. it is conscious awareness of that which it is and the abiding in and as the conscious awareness of that which it is even in the face of the most convincing and ‘tempting’ illusions - that which it is disguised as that which it ‘is’ - or the appearance which to nearly all senses, suggests, quite literally (an) ‘otherwise’. this mastery is then the focusing and attention of the inner senses (the cultivation of metaphysical knowing: consciousness observing/witnessing itself; the discernment of consciousness revelating/uncovering itself polished gem or diamond beneath the dross of the apparent/appearant ‘reality’ of
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images and surfaces and separations and definitions as the oneself) - even in the face of the ‘outer senses’ which deceive by means of the suggestion of difference by way of the energetic appearance/apparence of ‘different bodies’ (the body of the leaf, the body of the cherry, the bodt of the stream, the body of the steam, the body of the woman) - all of which hold different significances at the level of the culturos-bios-sphere - or the sphere of representation wherein the self retrieves or remembers or re-embodies itself by way of production and consumption, or the endless cycle of nature eating and shitting itself as in ‘the seasonal’. therein, nature becomes itself Nature (becoming into/unto Being) ad infinitum at the level of consciousness unconscious of itself as That Which Is (all that is is and at one) - and this is the level of ‘the animal consciousness’ - or the separative which is the signature of the culturos-bios-sphere - that which reflects upon ‘another’ which is also, ultimately, always already itself and seeks incorporation or disjection of said ‘other’ into or ex- communicatio. this is to say, the culturos-bios-sphere is a sphere of wholeness posing as being in relationship, or oneness posing as a cycle or circle of life wherein ‘relationships’ are formed and broken, ties are wrought and cut, so on and so forth. the game is precisely this: that the presumption at the level of the animal, or the unconscious, is that ‘i exist (at and as the level of the body)’. the presumption of a body, precisely, as and at the formal, presupposes an informal, a counterpart, a formlessness which must reside just at the periphery of that which ‘takes form’ or ‘is distinguished’ - that which is ‘dys-figure(d)’; ‘disfiguring’ - that which is not only ‘without form’, but in this way poses a mortal threat to the formal.

in this way, the animal unconscious is itself the ‘nature’ consciousness, or the consciousness of the primary and primordial duality of ‘life and death’, or ‘form and formlessness’, wherein the former is a dream and the latter is the truth - wherein one has never lived because one has never been ‘born’ from ‘another’; wherein one is dreaming of form in a game of the formlessness ‘taking form’ and observing itself to be (imaginatively) something or someone

‘else’ - ‘another self, another world, another thing, another body, another figure or form’. this is the subtle trick or game or play of consciousness: that it observes that which is and ‘distinguishes’ itself as itself by different names, faces, numbers; as such forgets itself by way of remembering itself, perpetually, as something or someone else in as many different words. this is to say: consciousness, even at the level of the unconscious animal, is so creative that it continually remembers itself as ‘something else’ (being, ultimately, wholly, all that is, pure consciousness, the formless creative life essence) - and that it is precisely this creativity which is itself and that creates and in creating remembers and forgets itself as ‘energetic products’, or disjections or exhausts or smoke or steam which, imaginatively (as perceived or envisioned or creatively interpreted by consciousness as itself) takes on figures, faces, names, places, identities - which become cities, elaborate stories, and so forth. this is to say, as consciousness ‘progresses’, it becomes more complex, building upon itself, forming narratives of creative subjects and objects; effectively ‘populating’ itself with myriad ‘itselves’. however, as consciousness evolves, it returns to itself; it remembers in a simplicity: it ceases becoming and abides in being wholly oneself; in this way it lives in the source and centre of creation and does not identify with the ‘projections’ which at any moment might also be called ‘actions’ of consciousness:

‘abide in the heart and surrender your acts to the divine’ - ramana maharshi

like actors who have become so immersed in the play they have identified themselves with the role - they are nodes of consciousness identified with themselves-projections: the image and self concept which is the separative animal identity: the body-thing which ‘lives’ and ‘dies’ - and as such they live as dreamed beings, dreamed forms, forgetting the pure consciousness, the formless essence which is their eternal and true identity, their energetic being and cosmic body. use your discernment. do not bother with and pay no

attention to their game of the mind. they do not even know they are playing it! reside within your eternal and true and whole self; recognize their world to be a world of projections, images, fears of shadows - shadows which are cast by their own distinguish-self imaginative conception. there is no self to be distinguished. the self is oneself and thus infinite and whole. those who have forgotten this live in various states of guilt, shame, and self judgement… why is this? it is because they do not recognize themselves for that which they are; they have displaced aspects of themselves into various conceptual ‘others’ - or ‘shadow identities’ - which for them is that which is ‘wrong’ or ‘bad’ or ‘inappropriate’ - and as such they live in fear of themselves as that which is ‘re-presented’ without them as in ‘another form or figure’ or separative self witnessed in the taken form of another who ‘re-presents’ that which has been ‘disowned’ or ‘disjected’ or ‘exiled’ from the conceptual city of the self. this is how desire and aversion function. as such, desire and aversion are, practically, one and the same - as they signify that which has been ‘dis-encorporated’, or ‘dis-embodied’ from the city of the mind or psyche; thus, that which must be remembered in order to cease becoming and be truly whole - or to cease the game of (un-)consciousness and be identified with and as all that is - consciousness itself. this is each ‘node’ (being(s)) journey - and it is rather not even a journey of ‘individuation’, but a journey of psychic remembrance unto wholeness as in the remembrance of cosmological Beingness - the whole Life Nature Itself - which extends with energetic tendrils as the world tree and world soul itself - without beginning or end or ‘single body’ but as the Cosmic Body, The One Mind, The One Body, The One Self, The One Soul. In this way, that which one reclaims is that which one desires most and one desires least: that which one is magnetically attracted to the most and that which one is repelled from to the greatest extent - and it is between these two axes and these four poles that the entirety of the energetic existence resides: the scales of pure consciousness; the scales of feeling. for if one plays them, one opens the gates to one’s own life - the true life of wholly Self identified consciousness.

When you get your feelings hurt, that’s just dumb. Don’t get your feelings hurt. Don’t let somebody hurt your feelings. Let your feelings be un-hurt-able. Be so clear about who you are, and what anybody else thinks, or everybody else thinks, does not hurt your feelings. Don’t ask anybody to be a way they are they are not ready to be. That’s what true FREEDOM is. Abraham hicks

You can only have pure motivation(s) from a position of strength: knowing yourself (your true form as all that is, formlessness, consciousness); as such, needing nothing, wanting nothing.

In this way, the ‘desires of the flesh’ (food, ejaculation, excrement, digestion, energetic production and consumption) are not rather inputs or outputs, causes or effects, but rather - representations of Nature as in ‘cycles of nature’ or seasonalities of a primary always already nonexisten(ce) - pure consciousness or pure Being ‘manifest’ creatively into and as ‘forms and functions’ or ‘taking on bodies’ which themselves do not exist but as energetic ‘togethernesses’ and ‘apartnesses’, or ‘gatherings of Being’ which might also be called ‘creative becomings’. In this sense, ‘life’ is an art form of consciousness which in reality is eternally still, silent, whole, and full - and yet creates within itself as an ‘energetic excess’ or a expression of itself through itself as in a digestive tract wherein it eats and digests and with the digestive fire expels or expresses itself as in an ‘e- motion(al) ‘shitting’’ of Self into selves, or ‘manifestations’, ‘forms and figurations’ which take the appearance of ‘beings’ but are in reality composed of the very primary energetic consciousness material ‘gathered’, or ‘compressed and compact’ into apparent form by way of the drawing together or consciousness into nodes, or energetic points of tensility, togetherness, and so forth - as in a mud statue or a wax candle - hardened and cooled by air and ‘melted’ or ‘loosened’ by water and fire, and so forth.

In this way, the emergence of an ‘individual psyche’ or ‘individual mind’, as in the ‘manifestation’ or re- presentation of the universal or eternal One Mind recapitulated into being as Being into being is almost laughable, a farce or a game or a play or a joke - which is the manifestation of the ‘greater’ within the ‘lesser’, or the ‘whole’ within the ‘part’ as in a fractalization of being wherein the whole is manifest even in the ‘smallest amount’ or grain or element or aspect or molecule or atom of consciousness. Therein, the mind has the capacity to realize

itself as that which it is, pure consciousness ‘receiving’ (or should I say ‘deceiving’) itself by way of ‘informations’ input into the sense body mechanism or computational mechanism or device as in taste, touch, sense, smell, and so forth - that which it consumes is always already itself: consciousness ‘body’ consuming consciousness ‘body’ and as such stoking the fire and flame of itself unto that which is: Nature manifest as in ‘the natural’ or the seasons of rising and falling of flames, tides, moons, and the cyclical motions which are the digestive, consumption, and energetic cycles of space and time: that which eats itself to make itself more, greater, ‘beyond’ - that which, as in Kierkegaard, commands Abraham to break the ‘culturos-law’ in the sacrifice of his son, Isaac - that which is the true nature not only of mankind but of that which is mankind itself, consciousness: that which is so totally and indistinguishably itself that it eats itself alive from within in order to create ‘new selves’ as in the play of ItSelf, OneSelf - the play which appears to be either a comedy or a tragedy but is in fact beyond comedy and tragedy from the perspective of the wholly Oneself: that the Oneself is the only true identity, form (in formlessness), and rather is all that is - even in the face of, in terms of the ‘sense body’ (or the one that is ‘separated’ to be ‘reunited’ in death (many different ways of ‘death’)) facing or relating to ‘the other body’ (as that which it consumes or rejects or consumes and dejects) - terms which mistake the wholly Oneself (at the level of the animal sensorium) to be composed of parts which are themselves an energetic ‘food chain’ of consumption and production which is itself the Drive(r)-Being. For, truly, the animal sensorium ‘self’ (or ego ‘self,’ or culturos-bios ‘self’, however you wish to conceive of it) does not truly exist but as a ‘fear of death’ which is only the gateway or the door of consciousness between itself and itself, between Job and God, or between the limit or ceiling of the ‘animal’ (the pseudo-‘one’ who ‘lives and dies’) and that which the animal ultimately is at the root of its consciousness - the one who is the eyes ears mouth and nose and touch who senses, feels, acts, lives, - consciousness itself: the one who is the root of

the being-body, the one who is in the sense of the truest identity, the animal itself. Thus, the question, ‘who am I?’

Life is about understanding the flow of life and becoming conscious of that which is (consciousness) - flowing through the body and attunement - living the flow of life energetically through and as ‘the light body’ - or the energetic body pseudo- ‘materialized’ and living in and as this energetic flow, practically, as in a life-practice. In this way, life is always lived immediately and immanently as in the intersection of the spirit and the flesh, or as in a state of meditation: which is really a state of being between, or becoming while abiding or residing in and as the Being, Consciousness, as in a mediation and a witnessing of the flow of life force as in a tiding, an ebbing and a flowing, a pouring and a receiving, as in the energetic movements which are the ‘consumptions’ and ‘productions’ of the play known as ‘nature’ - or that which is the ‘manifestation phenomenologically’ of that which is - Nature, Being itself as in the various different cycles and concentric circles which might be described as the ‘turnings of the seasons’ or the ‘livings and the dyings’ or the ‘comings and the goings’ of life force energy to and through various different energetic forms or ‘manifestations’ or appearances of figures and figurations.

To be attuned to life is to live in and as this flow while identifying as Nature, Being itself - while living out the comings and goings of ‘nature’ (as in the seasons of ‘existence’ - body, mind, form, figure, what have you) - as in the formlessness which is itself all forms and all things as they ‘rise and fall’ out of appearances and appearances: Consciousness Itself - the energetic source and life force which gives way and rise to the apparition known as ‘figures and forms and bodies’ - which are themselves nodalizations of energetic source and life force energy. It is this play that is known as Consciousness or Being becoming itself, or working within itself as itself to produce itself within itself as itself: a theatre of the womb of Consciousness wherein figures and forms rise and fall as in a world or sphere of wax or sand or water or wherein transformative processes of heating and cooling, gathering and dispersing, of the life force energetic Nature of Consciousness Itself moves and

flows to and fro through Itself, Itself being a channel or network of nerves and nodal points which are activated as in vessels which imbue imbibe and become (as in taking on the appearance) of life itself.

In this way, all things and all forms and all forces are themselves God Consciousness in various different states of animation, density, and frequency - which we might call simply ‘states of animation or states of play’. These nodalizations are ‘inhabitations of consciousness’ or loci which are ‘heated with consciousness’ or ‘active with consciousness’ and thus can be conceived of loosely as ‘containers’ or ‘vessels’ imbued with life essence as they are constructed or wrapped or wound tightly around themselves as themselves as in a sinew or thread woven into tissue - wherein this life essence is ‘in the process of living’ or active in, at, and around that site. Such a conception of energetic fields is also in tune with the concept of auric fields: wherein and whereat the life-centre gives off heat or affect from wherein the life process is occurring, or wherein the drive is most/very concentrated or manifest.

The flow of life is the drive toward life itself - which is of course the drive to self realization as in the drive to realize Oneself as Consciousness as such. In this way, all nodalizations of Consciousness, loose into deeply concentrated, are directed and oriented toward Self realization: from rocks, to animals, to chairs, and so forth. These energetic forms are in actuality energetic forces which undergo the perennial process of transformation as in the condensation and dispersion of life force as in the cycles of rain, the burnings of materials, the assemblings and dissemblings of ‘earth products’ and so forth. The very conception of the earth as a burning core, or the sun as a burning core, is accurate and at the macrocosmic level, emblematic of and directly symbolic of this transformative and transformational process of the transmutation of ‘energetic forces and forms’ into burnings of new matter, new consciousness, and so forth. This is, precisely, at the metaphysical level, the process of ‘nature’ - as in a becoming

directly oriented toward the goal of that which it is, the end which it already is, the realization (as in becoming conscious of) itself as that which it is: Consciousness ItSelf Realization.

In this way, Nature does not cease to be that which it is, at the level of Consciousness Being [as] all things, and at the level of ‘nature’ being the cycles and circles of consumption and digestion and disjection, or birth, life and death, and so forth - but that this particular node of consciousness resides in and as a direct reflection of itself as itself and as such ‘no longer exists’ unto itself as a reflection or a counterpart or a nodalization (an eye, or an ‘I’ or a ‘body’ or a ‘separat(ive) self’) - but rather in becoming conscious of itself as Itself- Consciousness - ‘ceases becoming’ and rather resides in and at its true self Nature - the network Consciousness Being itself: the Consciousness-ness of all things - the very source and centre of Creation - wherein the nodal network functions as a cosmic body or as if a massive network of veins or nervous systems, wherein the ‘node’ (which realizes itself to be Consciousness Itself) is in a process of ‘pseudo- becomings’ as in a journey of no space and no time and no distance toward itself as in a realization of itself (a node of consciousness, a mind of Mind) - to be One-Self, One- Mind, One-Body. In the energetic attunement or meditation-mediation of the inflow and outflow of life force energetics to and from the ‘nodal mind and nodal body’ - one becomes aware of a microcosmic-macrocosmic Self- unity occurring at the level of the granular-self and the Cosmic-Self - or wherein meditation-mediation provides immediate embodied insight into the energetics processes and procedures as in veins and neural networks of Consciousness nodalized and nodalizing ‘at large’ as in the process of Being Becoming (or consciousness becoming conscious of itself as itself) - an effective and affective re- production or re-presentation of the former, Being into Becoming, or Nature into ‘nature’ as in a manifestation of that which henceforth was ‘veiled’ in the beyond of metaphysic.

With Raquel (2022):

The way I'm seeing this (and the majority of things going on in our world right now) - ancestral trauma (and particularly family trauma 'in this lifetime') playing out on a global stage in how we form relationships with one another (or fail to do so), how our governments function, how our values proliferate, and how we view ourselves, the earth, and others as - alternately - resources, mechanisms to obtain power, control, authority, et al. Each of these 'institutions' or 'spheres' of relationship being a reproduction of our early childhood and familial woundings, or ancestral woundings/traumas, passed down from generation to generation. I think it is very rare that many of us become something even close to fully conscious of these dynamics in the depths of our personal psyches, nonetheless the trauma at the level of the collective psyche which informs everything from economics, to social government, to city life, 'everyday life', our cultural values, totems, taboos, and so forth. At the root of this would be a lack of self knowledge (or maybe even a loss as in lost knowledge in the course of human history) which translates to an unstable, destabilized, and even nonexistent sense of self which is perpetually in a state of reaction, fear, and fight or flight in the face of these socio-cultural mechanisms of power (which can really just be called institutions of fear and discipline) whose sole purpose it is to perpetuate, continue, and obscure these original woundings and core, root traumas, in order to create a social system and civilizational order of mass repression, fear, confusion, and trauma - as a perpetuation of separation and lack consciousness at a global level. To do so means you have created a mass populace which is unable to know itself, unable to discern for itself, and is thus at the mercy of these power systems to decide for it, live for it, value for it, choose for it, and operate for it - to create and mould its very lived reality and experience at the level of the imaginary conjecture of civilization itself (with all its religiosity, economies, rigidities of value, definition, category, belief, and so forth). The esoteric tenet 'know thyself', juxtaposed by the understanding, cultivated over

thousands of years of repressive mechanisms (by ruling elites) - that to know thyself means to understand the system and systems at work and to be able to evade, resist, and challenge their coercive means. All of our social and cultural systems are levied against this (self knowledge) - from education, to politics, to pop culture, work culture, to socialization structured around numbing and abuse of substances, to the utter lack of real and substantial mental health services around the world for those who are in great need. The absurd and almost comedic aspect of this (the manipulation of the mass populace by the ruling classes) is that it is at once an 'intentional' manipulation (for the means of obtaining power and control), and an 'unintentional' manipulation - in that the only real, true power (and in power, truth in knowledge) is in self knowledge. This is the transcendental function in the human experience, in human life, and what is truly worth living for and cultivating in ourselves, our relationships, and our communities.

Have you too been seduced by the desire of the universe? The endless foreplay? The one who watches the abyss dancing On a barroom table On a dance floor that stretches from here to the farmhouse in Colombia Where everything is making love And in that very moment forgets itself? Or where the yoginis drink wine and fornicate On the granite countertop of paradise Their hidden cosmology Imbedded in the flesh And raw meat

The consumption forbidden so it may be indulged The energy channeled so that it may be enslaved A great Moloch at the centre of each civilization A great pyramid erected in its name: Stretched out across the desert landscape Wrought by the sweat and blood Of millions of forgotten men. Whipped into the fury of war Ripped from bedchambers and kitchen windows To the violet midnight of hell’s dog jaws? The hot breath of the pitbull of love Laid out across the battlefield Where the goddess Eris comes and laughs at their bloodsport The shadows and mirrors Of the men who have killed only themselves And left only themselves behind.

And what for? But the sacred play, Behind the curtains The film screen directed by life’s blood Desire for desire, Power for power An endless end

The tail of a rat king entwined at the core With the thread of creation itself From which all things are spun:

Where all things are equally of the greatest importance and utterly meaningless, Where man’s soul descends and becomes entwined with the flesh To become aware of itself as that which it is - Pure Consciousness And to learn the energetic play From which all things are composed and made.

Once you’ve seen the truth Of the sacrificial lamb Being fed into the belly of the big steel machine There’s no going back To the old rock Smeared with blood upon your face So your eyes do not see Smeared with blood upon your door To infinity –

The story being told On the wheel of ancient tragedy Remarked upon by the blind seers And caressed by the beautiful young oracles Their temples built upon gaseous craters In the earth.

I’ve walked up the mountain To see my hands as weapons My feet as stalks And my eyes as hungry knives Cutting into flesh And dividing the rest Into nations.

Leave, the faces cut into stone Bedroom hallucinations A raging wildfire in my heart And the curtains drawn around the opus of the mattress Stripped bare And ripped open, organs:

Ten thousand soldiers piled up into a caravan Storm ship caravan Headed to forever And they’ll strike shore in an opium desert Sipping silver wine and bleeding the invisible blood Of foreign galaxies Twinkling out into the distance Where napalm throats

Spit words like bullet holes Into the flesh of the great human corpse:

I’ve been drawn Into the sacred chamber of the ancient world Painted on the cliff’s face Or forgotten under the lake The place where we used to lay sacrifices for the gods The place where we used to lay and wait for rain The lawless place Before and after time.

I was lawless to you And the truth was that we fucked and died on a burial ground And I held your skull and I said nothing: There was no art to it But the bare and raw breathing of existence: The animal nature of our becoming – And how wise am I now To say anything of these things? Our bold and bright world painted over With the petroleum smears of gray plastic Entire industries entering your mouth Your holes Your nature And carving new flesh in the scarred body of your Mother.

I know no god, I bow to no regime and I give you no quarter And no favor in your raging night The night that has stitched your mouth shut and left you wondering Of true purpose. There is no accord in the great and ancient war That has never been declared and knows no end The war that digs into the flesh and inscribes the womb with its name: The war of the spirit That beats like the eternal drum The fire that rages like the holy candle of Jerusalem And yet there is no symbol and no name for it – That shatters you and breaks your reality

And leaves you, beggar, on your knees In the holy war that springs up Like useless buildings and scripture That tell you nothing of the immediacy of God. And while you lay, begging, the spires spiral wider And the gyres turn, carving the flesh into a portrait Upon a massive canvas Mistaken for a mere detail by the eyes of humankind. Look wider, expand the vision of the cavernous face And peel back behind the lids of the eyes Burning in the coal mines Beat into the first railroads And broken over pyramid stones: Sacrificed in the meat rites And crossed over into the other side of enlightened self knowledge – The initiate who has raped life And raped himself And in his extreme act become aware of the true nature The mutable nature which is in equal parts terrible and as innocuous as a dream – An art so true it seems, That he has forgotten it long ago, Or re-membered it in the distant fog of memory: Brought it about to his body and assembled his flesh Leg by dismembered leg, Rib by rib Until he is whole again:

The dream that appears so real that it envelops him And he marches to the war drum within Directed to the causes of other men. Smear the lamb’s blood Across your mouth and brow And act foul, As they all do Trudging through the swamp of madness Bound to the tree of reason and shot through with arrows of the mind Convicts of conviction Marching about the prison yard Begging for more truth –

Their backs are broken by Time and fed to the raging Eternal, The immortal fire god. Will you go with them too? So foolish and new, How long does a child remain this way? Dragging the sack of the decaying body and in the mind Still so attached to the fleeting pleasures of the senses? The ones that come and go like playboy lovers Or lost days? You wake up, abandoned even to yourself With the sun setting in a bedroom filled with belief: The pictures, the name, the time of day Writ large upon the sundial of your life – Everything is contained and clear: The world is known and righteous in your heart. And you are struck by the unknown darkness, The thunderclap of the unsatable, The raw nature that cannot be breathed or fucked away Danced into oblivion or drawn out with a surgical knife, the exorcism of your life that crawls on to an oblivion stop: The tomorrow that never comes and yet must arrive For your vision to be realized. The picture you have kept, sanctified In the rare corners of your mind The image of yourself in your imagination – the way things shall go – The way they truly go is like water in a raging river Air in a tempestuous storm Fire in a wildfire Which burns the woods to ash. The disintegration is total; the nature of knowledge is perfect In that it is utterly transformative and that it leaves nothing but the raw substance, The true essence of nature in its wake And thus it lives with the clear eyes of the salmon And the pure breath of the river atop the mountain Where few men dare reach And even fewer surmount: The mountain where they do not return And their families and friends and hopes and dreams Become equal substance of pure energy –

They are not even real or existent But as a dream of life collectively dreamed – Together on a boat with oars drawn And drawn in ritual memory.

Will you go the way of the lamb? Atop the mount where the first men are laid, Inscribed in stone, Their bodies become their stone name? The tablet where the truth of the law is writ large and bright – you cannot miss it Unless your eyes are dreaming Of something else.

Kali,

Now that we are older, I think this letter is going to hold a very different tone and approach. We just got off the phone, and now, I think, is a good time to write – while you’re still fresh on my mind; while it still feels like you’re here, with me, in some fashion.

We talked about love tonight, and what love means, what we think it means, or can stand for, or the value it holds in our lives. I think I, now, as I did before (perhaps in the most immediate and visceral sense), use our love, and my love for you, to you, with you, about you – to gauge the possibilities of human love in this lifetime. We can talk about agape love, or the love of the gods or the infinite, immortal, and timeless love of unconditionality – but here we are, you and I, playing this human game – and after we’ve come back from the ledge of playing with the toy of the hot blooded infatuation of us, there are, and were, and surely will be – dishes to do, beds to make, days to live, and nights to dream. We will still be us: I will be here in my bold costume, aping myself and the character of my life, my steady way, and you will be here, in your disguise: masks of the universe unfolding our own private mysteries, some of which, however well I come to know you, will reside even in the most embodied and furthest reaches of your own private language – where words do not go; where symbols and dream images and archetypes guide you into deeper, inner sanctums of your soul, being, reason, and purpose for taking a body. And yet, so often, you have been mine – I have taken you and you have taken me – and we have found new intimacies in ways which I did not expect or imagine – ways which have taken me by surprise and taught me a great deal about the practical, the real,

and the physical, literal, living nature of love: human love.

I had my dream of love and I played it like an art – and yes, of course, as there were other men for you there were other women for me – but it took you, and three years of you – not just our passionate first try at everything, or to somehow solder ourselves together into one entity, two individuals melted and melded into one another and our lives somehow made indistinguishable or molten in the love relationship. It took three years of you, the complexity of working through my past traumas, confusions, hurts, wounds, mistakes, and half answers for what love is, what it can do, and what I’m here to do as a human being on this earth. Hard questions! Questions which, if left unanswered or uncertain, would make it difficult for me to come to you with the whole of my love, the whole of myself – because I was in parts, dismembered like Osiris or Dionysus, as we all are – set to task on this earth to remember ourselves, Oneself, entirely. So then my vision and version of love was a play, an art, a game, which was discharged aesthetically and from a distance – I could not love up close because it would mean encountering myself and encountering the hard facts of reality – the hard facts of human incarnation – and the ultimate aftermath of love – the real love, love itself, not just the beautiful beginnings – the love which is the life together. The love which is the moments, all of them, the beautiful and the dull, the trying and the prolonged, the regular and the ephemeral. It would mean the parts of myself that I once disowned or thought I could beat away in wrestling my soul for a lifetime – the parts of myself which are perhaps regular, or, better said, human.

The Virgo-Pisces axis to me is symbolized best in these words: the infinite, eternal (Pisces) and the chopping wood and carrying water (Virgo). Virgo is our life on earth, here, in these bodies, as these souls in flesh living in days, we become our everydays and work through them as souls on life missions, making life paths, digging the trenches of our lives and making homes of our bodies, lovers of our time, and reasons of our dreams. We chisel our minds and bodies and souls like master carpenters, or Michelangelos, each of us on this plot of land and given our tools and our church, our temple (cliché, perhaps, but so very true) – to hoe and garden our Eden of the vessel of consciousness – through which the spirit speaks and we come to know, ever deeper, that which we truly are – Pisces – the essence and lifeforce itself, the primordial, the wellspring, the Great Mother – that which from whence all things spring and return to after their brief sojourn in these forms and figures. It is our ancient game, and it is no better represented in our sphere, the sphere of humankind, than in the ever unfolding mystery of love, and the dance of love which shows us itself – it strips us naked and beds us – you and I were bedded by love. And we took each other violently and passionately, and with a deep eroticism which was a mutual consumption – I had to eat you and know you and take you into my body and make you mine – even enslave you with my sex and tie you to the mast of my desire and fuck my life into you – to own you and mark you and claim you forever. I wanted to degrade you, derange you, and destroy you – all in the name of passionate, erotic love – all in the name of a laughing game – a game which manifests itself in the hardening of our sex organs, the quickening of our pulse, the rushing of our blood. This life is, at risk of another cliché, a great and terrible river – it is us that is the

rushing water – you and I are no figure or form but the mere appearance of a ripple in the wave, or a flickering apparition in the flame. The life of our love changes forms, as we ourselves change, our consciousness makes our bodies mutable, and Pisces shows itself to be the ruling quality of the Virgoan – the consciousness which conducts, directs, moves, shapes, and shifts the wood and the water which we carry, the bodies which we make, and the love which we, always in equal measure, give and take. This is the true equality and justice of life on earth – that we leave this place only with and as our true selves, our true form, the consciousness which has been changed as in a way of seeing, the witness to our comings and goings in this earth dwelling place, the consciousness which has learned of itself and itself as nature by way of the direct experience and encounter with the plane of separations: the body with which we carry the water, the body with which we chop the wood, the body with which you and I have taken on to love, caress, communicate, and share seemingly disparate knowledges, perspectives, reasons, desires, and dreams with one another.

And you have never been remiss to share your true self with me – let it be banal, excited, creative, everyday, personal, remarkable, and unremarkable. This is to say, you have never indulged me my private illusion of love – and as I said in that first letter, you broke my vision of love in that you forced me to experience love by way of immersion; that you held close and fast to it in a truer knowledge than I could have possibly imagined, like you had known it truly before or else come into this world knowing it truly, innately (and perhaps this is the secret nature of your womanhood – which for me remains, in this life, something only of a

psychic vision or a fog of partial seeing)… you knew it and trained me to it like a wild dog, a stupid animal in important ways and overlearned in so many other, perhaps trivial fashions. And so I learned, over these three years of knowing you, and still learn to this day, the real and true nature of human love – not some totem or symbol, not some image or artwork, but rather the version of love which is rough, embodied, and normal – the version of love which is to me a revelation in that it is profoundly healing and knowledge of a real life – a life which I spend and have spent with you and only wish to deepen in hues, from the youthful, yelling light bright red of our first meeting to a deeper, darker, heart maroon red of blood deep within the body of mankind – a heady, aged wine of hundreds of years – a sip of which is a much different kind of drunk than the industrial kind. For with you, about you, love has been a refinement of the spiritual senses, a deepening of all regards and my regard for the immanent; an appreciation of the human life which for so long I played at disdaining, to turn away from the very essence and purpose and journey of this life and indulge in a theatre of aesthetic extremism, refusal, and whatever else that is the nonsense of rebellious youth and instead turn to you and see you in all of the ways I see you: as the true love of my life, as the mother of my children, as the woman I wish to spend the rest of my life with, to marry with a ring of volcanic rock. And I knew, instinctively, intuitively – when I first considered this, that the ring itself would have to be immediately symbolic of the depth of the fiery love that expressed itself with such literal extremism as in an outburst or an eruption upon our first meeting and those first days and months of our togetherness, but that which becomes hard stone in time, an incredible physical transformation of elemental form (from fire to

earth). I know nothing about it, just as I know nothing about love other than what it is to be in this flesh and understand, by way of your teaching, conscious or unconscious (perhaps a bit of both, as in all things) what love is as a poem of space and time – an unfolding which surprises and deepens, dances and seasons, and yet that which remains true and everpresent is you – or whatever that is that is your soul and that draws me in with a gravity and a pull that is at once entirely normal, sober, and present – and that which, quite simply, is entirely unique to you, to us – it is our signature, like a cliff face, a valley, or the river, the strange gravity which is, like a thousand rivers, at once simply water and that place which draws you with such a calling that you cannot resist, or that it reminds you of the love of your youth, the meeting places where you had an inner awakening, skipped stones, or played in the water in winter thaw, or else pricked your skin and drew blood on a thorny embankment. There is something there, a memory which is neither past nor future but remains in the amber of the present and the hue deepens – which is the reminder of time passing, the wearing of the mask of the flesh exposed to sun, rain, and the grinning of the stars – a memory which is secret and sacred, we don’t know it but we feel it. It remembers us in its coming to be. And this is also how we can talk about poetry – it emerges from the inner sanctum of the womb of the Great Mother – the very essence and first womb of Creation and it emerges from the mouth of the poet like a birthing and we all know the poem to be ourselves, our true essence, surely as rainfall or the sun to shine or the nest of newborn baby birds in springtime. We identify with it so deeply that we don’t need to use words to tell it, we don’t need to name it, we rise with the spring and it envelops us and our

names and badges and reasons on this earth and this game of humanity fade into the air, projections, illusions, dreams which were merely half truths, half lies, our conjecture which fill our minds swarming with ideas and concepts to cover up our eternal naivete, the fact that we do not ever know anything, but rather that it fills up our bodies and we digest it, we reflect upon it, we ruminate upon it, and absorb the nutriments of life: it becomes us; this is how we truly and deeply age.

It's getting late here… three in the morning is coming quickly and I feel like I’ve just barely skimmed the surface of this like grazing your skin, your face, but if we’re lucky, language touches the truth – and in such a way that someone else can understand and hear what we hold truly in our heart of hearts – my heart that is yours, and your heart that is mine. We can give our hearts in the game of it all, but my heart will always be yours beyond my giving – like the trees, the wind, and the rainfall. In the Piscean sense, my boundaries and borders have always and forever been dissolved into yours, I have been given to life, and in some strange way, given to you in this one. All that I can ask is that you take me as I am, and forgive me my mistakes, confusion, and indulge me my learning. And somehow, it seems like you’ve already understood me, or made it your mission to understand and accept me in just that way. I’m sure it hasn’t been easy, nor has it been simple. But that is perhaps what I admire most about you, that in all of the ways that you say you’re changeable, that you can see me and take me as I am – as a man – sometimes too proud, too indulgent, even desirous of the dream – and show me something higher than the dream: the truth of life on earth, and the truth of human love.

Love, Forever, Yours: David

Creation and consumption of entertainment - spectacle

Competition for greatest ‘effect’

This culture is reflected in the cinema

'When a person can't find a deep sense of meaning, they distract themselves with pleasure.' – Victor Frankl

American culture and identity - lack of deeper purpose or mythology

So what you have is these empty containers of effect without deeper meaning or higher purpose (in that they lack, as Kant would put it ‘an end’) but rather they are endless means (the creation of more pleasure at all costs).

The French aristocracy motto during the period of the revolution: ‘Pleasure at all costs’

This is what a lack of spiritual connection to life and the earth does to a people(s)

Artaud and the Tamahuara:

Identity centered around creation and consumption of pleasure - identity that is fixated upon an economy or industry of production and reproduction of events, happenings which trigger dopamine responses, or ‘addict brain’. You have a cultural economy of addiction coded into the everyday behavior of a mass population whose reward centres are consistently overloaded and desensitized.

A populace in a perpetual state of emotional fight or flight - without a larger psychological gravity or foundation (spiritual connection with nature, existence, higher or innate purpose and meaning found in trials or the movement and seasonality of the life journey) - the individual is ‘unmoored’ or ungrounded - not in a spiritually identified way with the abgrund (or Heidegger’s or Kierkegaard’s concept of the suspension of life in the temporal abyss of the now - which holds no tethers or no ground but the leap into the abyss as a leap of faith) - but rather in a way that has no orientation other than toward and in the fulfillment of pleasure centers for pleasure’s sake - because it is that which can be obtained for a price, or be assured of, even if that pleasure is dulled with every hit from the television, the sex organ, the tastebuds, the drug of choice, the use-material of choice - and always leads again back to the question: ‘Why am I doing this? What is the purpose behind this?’ and yet this purpose remains veiled due to lack of consistent inquiry both at an individual and cultural level due to a self satisfaction (at a cultural level) with that which can be obtained, superficially, at a small cost - or that which, to say, ‘is convenient’. Therein, the economy remains limited to a low risk low reward stakes - or a currency which is directly reflected in the concept of ‘money’ - a material manifestation with a quantifier of energetic potential and ability which is ‘visible’, ‘countable’, ‘fixable’ - and subsequently and simultaneously reflects one’s ‘value’, and the value of ‘the thing’. money, therein, stands in culture for time, energy, meaning, value - and beneath these terms - feeling, life, ‘being’.

That which the concept of money cannot touch, however, is the innate purpose or spiritual nature of being as in the life purpose or spiritual evolution of the

being as consciousness. This is a journey wherein, with artaud, the very landmarks and geography are an intricate ‘signing’ all reflecting the inner sanctum, esoteric nature of consciousness itself, as a sort of code of consciousness being observed by consciousness - the organism - being reflected back to itself. The very seasons suggest something mythic and majestic about the nature of the self, and this is of course what lies behind and beneath the pleasure culture and industrial machine of mankind - the desire and innate pull to know oneself at a deeper level - the desire for peace beneath the sensual frenzy and bombardment of images, products, and consumption/production cycles of the flesh. Consumption and production, at a cultural level, is a bacterial or flesh process, an input/output mechanism. It is ‘pull the lever, receive the reward’. This is, of course, an important aspect of existence (digestive health of the organism), but not the end all be all reason of life, incarnation, and the evolution of consciousness.

So what therein is the spiritual or soul journey? It is the journey of ever deeper and embodied knowledge of oneself as all things - their source and essence - pure consciousness which perpetually forms, informs, and alters them, like shifting sands. Therein is the deeper energetic value and currency not only of money, but of sensation as a loci and concentration of nodal energetic activity - a ‘pleasure’ or ‘pain’ response is an energetic peak or point or centre which is being activated or knotted (in the case of pain) or put into a flow state so that consciousness remembers itself (the ‘name of the being’ is forgotten).

The creation of an energetic flow state: an embodied river of being becoming itself.

The creation of an energetic flow state: holds no images, no preconceived notions. It lets being be as it is, lets come and go accordingly. This is to say, it holds no vested interest or economy of values but one higher value - the faith in the unfolding of the divine inner working of the self within; thus that one may live and be led by the deepest inner notions - as in a network of dreams and hidden symbols - the ancient symbolia of the geography of creation itself which is a playground of consciousness; therein to be discerning in one’s movement through the map of the earth body as in a micro and macrocosm of one’s own flesh - in this discernment, evocative of Odysseus’ journey to return home - that he encounters geography which offers pleasure or illusion or the appearance of satiety; that he often must outwit the appearance of pleasure or fullness or beauty into deeper understanding of that which it is that stands before him; that which it is the signpost or the sign beneath the enticing symbol or sensory apparatus that behooves him to move this way or that. this is to say he develops his intuition and inner sense - a layer of awareness which is a ‘piece of land’ or consciousness which is his to cultivate, develop, train, come to know - which is the ability to act creatively with insight into the inner workings of the equal parts deceptive and bountiful qualities of nature as in his alignment with Nature or Being itself - that which is consciousness which produces the bounty and myriad effects of ‘nature’ as in seasons, faces, forms, masks, and so forth - all of which conceal this ‘inner sanctum’, or raw essence Nature primordial life force. So that he is trained and trains himself to see the inner quality - he sees the energetic being, body, and form of Nature as in a myriad ‘disguise’ or playful concealment and revealment to the discerning eye.

‘god is the life force energy that is doing moving anything’

Are we here to be torn apart? To be pulled into love so thoroughly that we are decimated? Shattered like glass and scattered about the earth Like a vase smashed in the atmosphere By a passionate and vengeful god?

This is no poem, but a roadmap. The soul takes the hand of life and leads it to truth. The conscious mind is a witness to the inner workings: The molten heat and core of the inner sun which emits Longings Like solar flares That erupt out of the core unconscious Into the realm of the ego and the imagined waking day Where the perilous construct of the self resides And is shattered by the emergence of true passion And the thrust of changing life.

Life changes by itself; We are beholden to the inner workings of the gods The centrifugal movement of the psyche Mirrored in the flying of the planets above. For there are infinite selves just as there is only Oneself. And even self realization or enlightenment is no respite from the lifepath: the lifepath takes which path it chooses to take For it is compelled by unseen forces And impelled further by the inner essence – Which we do not control; we merely speculate upon it Graze it, gaze into it, like a dark marble scrying glass And it is not clouded, no – But rather that we look into it and see the truth of our lives reflected in fantastical images: Archetypes and nonsense and childhood memories

Turned into great battles and terrifying figures – Such as dragons or knights or mystic lovers. And this is the truth of our life – The life that is lived deep within; The life which pulls us into a deepening in the outer expression: The life which concentrates a greater focus, a deepening of hues; A recognition which is an attention – To the symbolic nature of all life: All that which leads back to the primary recollection Of the self and the soul.

The life that is lived, even in the case of the sage Is a life lived wildly; It is lived in the undergrowth of the soul, The jungle of the soul Even as it gazes upon the North Star of the Oneself It is imbedded, literally, deep in the undergrowth of the lived existence: It, indeed, still lives a human life. Take away the technologies, the dross, and the culture of valuable images And the soul is still in this wrestling match, It still cuts away swaths of pure nature like flesh Like the body of the cosmos; The earth is this proving ground where souls roam like hungry tigers Roaming their own private earths Each with their own private imaginations and visions: Wherein they meet upon common land and common ground, And yet live in radically different notions of the spirit Which inhabits them, directs them, and is their true nature: To see yourself is not to know yourself;

To know yourself is not to know yourself: Even your hidden essence springs up like lava And the explosion of the inner persona is at risk of overwhelming the entire persona. For it is the true personality: Nisargadatta said, The search for Reality is the most dangerous of all undertakings, for it destroys the world in which you live.

And the search for reality is the living the life of love Only the beggar knows that nothing can be taken from him The beggar that only takes today, and not even the day but the moment And love strips you naked Momentless, Can you ask even for that? Love is the decimation: it is the end of the world every day. Can you withstand such a force? It rips you apart every day in a subtle gravity Spinning about the universe: The spheres within the spheres of the planets Being ripped into a cosmic dance. Is this not a madman’s domain? Where is your vaunted safety? Ha! I go nowhere and today have gone nowhere Staked my flag in nothing And brag of my namelessness In silence. I have neither pride nor shame And it cannot be said that I have even lived a day, But rather that I am the living day itself. Where does this leave me in the world of human affairs?

Wandering? A vagabond? I deal in love and am called by love and love calls through me – I am exploded from within by it and it erupts from me and hardens into ‘objects’ Like this poem. This very earth is born from love, Like volcanic islands: The source was unthinking and enveloped in creative ecstasy and created byproducts Still vibrating with its sacred essence. Do you know the true meaning of sacred? It comes from the centre of the creative body of Creation: Wherein there is a vortex, or a neverending whirlpool of spirit, and pure force. It pulls life to it, through it, Like the body of humankind Like the dance of the cosmos A network of merciless gravities; Each gravity, a lesson of the internal truths Of internal movement Of planetary organs. The symbol for the sacral is the spiral Or the bellybutton Or the tree stump Which today still bleeds In remembrance of its first severance The birth of the child into this world from the womb of the Great Mother. Even these metaphors are veiled By the multitude of their dimensions: But the one who listens will understand.

I do not dream, no. The dream erupts from me,

Like a private mythology which is living and becomes conscious Like being cast into light from shadow; I hear the dream like a primordial call A stardance before the fire circle A blood rite before the sex rite A hunter’s prayer Light from the aurora And the dream calls me into the inner reality, The truth of the lived experience So deeply into the inner world that it is as if, As I step out into the world which is populated by buildings, laws, and social orders That it appears to me that it is all a film Cast over the true nature The one that is obscured but for true silence Wherein the soul is the producer of life And leads the conscious mind Which has surrendered to the soul And thus the soul speaks through it And the mind has become a channel For the greater reason Of life’s nature and calling

Rest upon the buoyant lake of your existence.

The light is casting its shadows over the grass of day And I am blind! Terribly blind! Feeling about like a mole in the rhythmic sunlight As it beats into my flesh like a breath And there is no more humanity, no more mankind: I was holding onto this life that I call ‘mine’ Like a weak tent of twigs In a galestorm And now it is gone from my hands And I am in the agora With my hair long and wild like Heraclitus Chanting up at the cursed sun: Damn you! And the worship of the black god She is dressed like a man Or he is dressed like a woman. No matter, The arousal is mysterious And an assault on the senses, Like smelling salt or cat piss, Ammonia And the body spirals into a fever, dragging the consciousness along with it upon a chain Barking out orders and command.

I am dragged, like the head of Hector Through the temple of the real. Everything is gold or sand And I do not desire the gold And the sand enters my mouth, my clothes; the holes in my body, Dragging me into the groundless land. The sky is black, and I am glad For my eyes have been punished by day. I crave night like a king craves jewels and women

Like a heathen craves pleasure. What can enter my body and touch my soul? What daemon can turn my favor, And spin my hand into a treasured constellation?

I go with Perseus to slay the captor of my naked Andromeda I covet her body and salivate over her flesh For I am a man among men - But what happens when my organism dies? Curls up into a deathbed scene In a wild city, reckless and looted? I gave up on life and died for seven years And I became a woman; The Great Mother ate me whole, Spun into her cocoon and web, Kali’s foot upon my back And the mask of my face Strung upon the gauntlet of her waist. The creative depression is like a valley of blues and blacks: The mad mourning over chairs The mad evening over cigarettes on rooftops And the streets like a snake’s back Moving beneath your feet. Has all time standing still? Its black hand upon its wristwatch, Hat and newspaper in hand Waiting for the midnight train?

Enough talk of night You must see it to believe it Where shadows walk like ghosts of soldiers Down an endless hallway to perdition Always fifteen minutes late for their appointment, For being judged.

She waits for no man, her womb thirsty Grinning, Hound teeth hinged upon the gates of the universe. The gates inscribed, ‘Abandon all hope, ye who enter here!’ But I was born into this place And got my eyes this way And no nothing else - nothing more and nothing less. Have I ever entered or gone this way? If so, how might I leave? And this is how I spend the nights in the pit: Reading by fire and spinning dice against a brick wall Taking money from penitent ghosts and hearing the whip Rattle against the plastic panes of the madhouse And the knife swinging, the pendulum of time And the great wooden doors That lead to an abyssal drop. In a dream, I should walk through the halls of the madhouse Taking account of the history of the scene, Writing the names of the born and dead in my ledger like a taxman Holding their weeping wives And scrambling for change in a phone booth to call for an eventual cab To the train station back to earth That rides up in a mountain spring, silently And deposits you into a lilac field Riddled with dandelions and crickets.

I came to be a ledgerman Like a Hermes in disguise Riding up and down city blocks on hardened feet taking tolls And coming up and down the elevator of hell

An operator and a boatman. The one who is dragged down first knows the way, It is inscribed on his eyeballs, A map of memory written in lashes Or else the being tied to the stake, naked One does not forget such things. But what evidence is there to show for it? He is still there, on the riverbend, begging for change as the skies thicken with rain And the menace coming over the city is pronounced. Do we measure time in days or ages? What has come tonight has been coming for thousands of years And the machines register the changing in light And the sound grows, roaring over the treetops, And the birds and lizards scatter In a heat lightning of the psyche. The menacing comes before the rain - the sense of the thickening of the air And the occlusion of the mind by a greater might, The forces of the gods emerging from their tomb, tunnel, or womb, Cloud, sea, or sky Rupture in the earth or foil in the flame Where creation steps out and speaks its name In a language few understand; In a time where few remain to decipher the breach Between the animal and the godlike reach Beyond space and time.

And what of the dead men? They are not even rotting in their stone tombs Each cavernous foothold of earth making a bed for the nameless men Who were forever nameless and will remain that way forevermore

Received in their true form And their consciousness, I cannot say: The madness of even the greatest among us is hopeful And speaks of a change in paradigm Where the spirit absconds in changed form, and yet somehow remains intact. What will you do with this fire of mine, Mother? On loan like a trial, gamesman Mother, your trials I undertake, with your hand slipped so deep within me I am but a puppet or marionette of the word Which has spoken me into being? Am I just this quick thing that comes like a summer rain? Vicious and proud and yet humbled, By the snapping fingers of time? You pull me out of the abyss with a tender hand And admonish me for believing so deeply, so truly, in anything at all. I got so wrapped up in the play That I forgot we were a bunch of players Waiting for a day off To smoke cigarettes in the park And drink a bottle of cheap wine on the way home to nowhere Holding hands and eating strawberries: This dancing game of distances Where I come here, and you go there So it is as if we were together and apart, All at the same time.

Forgive me for being a believer, Even in that brief moment In this life that you have called me into - This life that I must play like a trumpet or a flute In the street band parade of your life

That slithers like a snake about the Louisiana countryside Leaving the city, Leaving the threatening mystique of religions Leaving the threatening mystique of the occult And these grand deceptions And plays on, simply to play Like cymbals in the hand of a child Incredible noise, like thunder Holding only the pure intensity of passion With no direction With no belief With no desire But to play life out loud; to let it unfold to its fullest extent. Do we still, to this day, forget our childhood? The thesis of the world machine In a vice grip, in a factory rhythm? Called to discipline by a booming voice, behind a curtain A god who is no god at all? You were born free and enslaved by the voices of illusions Written down in books, passed on in beliefs, Riddled into family names And pressed into the palm of the earth like a brand Sallowing the ground of her fertile land And convincing her of the illness of her playful nature.

We make believe this disease And call it ‘mankind’ Even as it spreads about our earth and affords us incredible death Masquerading as convenience. Which of you has ripped open the cask of the soul and peered into the still beating heart of the flesh

And seen the inner face? Which of you has gone the way which at each signpost and road marking threatens obliteration And still presses on, Convinced of the loving nature hid beneath Even the most convincing apparition of evil? Have you not gone far enough in your own exploration of self As to allow yourself to be flayed by your own hand To be disavowed of your own march to pleasure And be shown pain instead? And to know the true nature of pain to be a sacred guide Leading you to the truth of life Beyond the pleasure and pain of the body? Go this way, not because it is the easy thing to do But because it is the way into a true life A life risen from the dead Where the old way is slit open with the sword of discernment And the new way is born from it In an impossible transmutation which may be described as a miracle The soul is risen like Lazarus or Christ into an entirely new day Where one lives as both animal and God And understands the immediacy of the moment Which is simultaneously an eternity. We must step now into a new breach A black fire of death To reveal the deathless nature of our souls The crystalline essence of the self Which is the eternal form of the universe And that which composes the all-things, The very nature of Creation itself.

‘Death consists, indeed, in a repeated process of unrobing, or unsheathing. The immortal part of man shakes off from itself, one after the other, its outer casings, and – as the snake from its skin, the butterfly from its chrysalis emerges one after another, passing into a higher state of consciousness.’ – Annie Besant

‘Krishna is totally different: it is a game. He promises one day and forgets on another day. He is really liberated; his liberation is perfect, without flaw. His liberation is without flaw because he knows all is a game. When all is a game and all is a dream, then why be bothered? He is not worried and bothered. He plays it and remains unattached.’ – Osho

‘Joan of Arc, Voice of Truth: Stand strong. Focus on your purpose. Release the fear of persecution and speak your truth.’

‘Jungian psychology tells us that in order to heal the wounds and suffering caused by denying and rejecting aspects of our wholeness, we must first enter into our unconscious and develop a relationship with our shadow. It is necessary to recognize that all of these hated and ostracized parts of ourselves have a legitimate need to exist and to be expressed.’ – Demetra George

‘You can’t predict what a myth is going to be any more than you can predict what you’re going to dream tonight. Myths and dreams come from the same place. They come from realizations of some kind that have then to find expression in symbolic form. And the only myth that’s going be to worth thinking about in the immediate future is one that is talking about the planet,

not the city, not these people, but the planet and everybody on it.’ – Joseph Campbell

‘The mind-shattering magnificence of existence can only be truly revealed to you in the willingness to be intimate with everything that appears in your field of experience in every moment.’ – Amoda Maa

‘As the spider sends forth and draws in its thread, as plants grow on the earth, as hair grows on the head and the body of a living man – so does everything in the universe arise from the Imperishable.’ - Mundaka Upanishad

‘Let go of the story that you’re on your own. Release the belief that doubts your self-worth. Trust the Universe is leading you on a path beyond your wildest dreams. Feel to heal.’ – Dr. Darren Weissman

‘For what is a disciple? He is one who seeks to learn a new rhythm, to enter a new field of experience, and to follow the steps of that advanced humanity who have trodden ahead of him the play, leading from darkness to light, from the unreal to the real.’ – Alice Bailey

‘Everything in the world is full of signs. All events are coordinated. Al things depend on each other. Everything breathes together.’ – Plotinus

‘The greatest thing you can do to cultivate true wisdom is to practice the consciousness of the world as a dream. If failure comes, say: “It is a dream.” Then shut off the thought of failure from your mind. In the midst of negative conditions, practice “opposition” by thinking and acting in a positive, constructive way.’ – Yogananda

‘The life within you is the only real thing – everything else is just a projection.’ – Sadhguru

‘Nothing has gone wrong, all is well.’ – Abraham Hicks

Regarding the Visions Seminars:

The chakra centres are levels of ancient history: to travel back into them means to reclaim the entirety of the body, become entirely embodied, and simultaneously to encounter the entirety of human history and reincorporate the ‘dismembered’ aspects of the modern self into fullness and wholeness - particularly the ‘lower’ levels of the primitive, primordial, and first men - the seat of our power, the root of our being, the depth of our animal nature - to reincorporate it with the knowledge of today and the ‘higher’ levels is a rebirth of our animal nature with and in awareness of that which it is; acceptance of it at a level of consciousness and yet not a dependence upon it. Seeing it from above, an eagle’s eye… and the ability to embody, connect, relate to oneself at the level of the unconscious and to travel between the realms of day and night, light and shadow – to bring back messages of wisdom, dreams, and visions from the unconscious (both collective and personal) and live out the dream as in a play(ing). The body holds the wisdom and struggle of the entirety of human history; it also holds the folly which is a folly of ‘necessity’ – which is to say, at the time, a certain knowledge was available, a certain limit of consciousness and cognition was accessible, and a certain threshold of being and knowledge of self was applied and applicable – and thus a certain level of the body was reached, incorporated, used, known, felt, and moved through and with. This could be said to be an un-damming – both from ‘above’ and ‘below’ in terms of the ‘rising into being’ (accessing higher energetic centres such as

the bird of flight, brain-mind, cognition and metacognition, and so forth, the advent of philosophy, enlightening, enlightenment, et al) – and the ‘lowering into being’ – the underground or Hadic initiatory journeys into the animal, into the primordial, such as that which is depicted in the works of Lispector and Dante. So to speak, 'hell’ journeys, mole journeys, and ‘heaven’ journeys, bird journeys. Disintegration and integration of spirit, self, and soul are key terms here. Where once the human consciousness resided at the animal root, it has the possibility and potentiality (latent within the seed and life of man and life itself) to ‘rise’ into higher cognitive realms of energetic centres: to see from the heart, to see from the eyes, to see from the higher mind – to reflect upon the ‘nature’ of its animality as in and from the place of the witness, Nature, Being – the higher mind from which the being is formed, created, terraformed, and transformed in space and time. Equally, the witness communes with the flesh. The spirit, self, and soul – the self which is the mediatory bowl between the bird and the mole, emptied and filled with the fluid essence of life as it travels about realms and spheres: reaching higher and lower, reverberating out in sound. This is the language of nature; furthermore, the Hermetic aspect of existence – wherein Hermes travels to and from the earthly and Hadic and Olympian realms; wherein the messages transferred and transmitted produce the ‘horizontal’ realm, or the ‘worldly’ realm – reverberating and vibrating beings and bodies in various states and depths of consciousness-cognition of self. The selves within the Self-womb of Nature-Being- Body – the bodies in various states of transmission.

We waited in the pale gold dawn Our palms out to receive the sacrament A bowl of fresh blood An elixir from the next world Gifting life down to this earth Rumbling in the soil like a dark jungle. You placed your ear to the earth and cried A loud yell which stirred the blood And got it moving, rising In a madman’s dance Shaking beads and whirling upward Spiralling into the cocoon of your veins.

A network of self propelled desire A furnace within your heart that shook the trees And the thunder over the sacred temple Where we prayed for long hours Forgetting the time And the portion of land Wetted by rain And springing forth. The body has a thousand hearts And intricate mechanisms, The organs beating like panthers Stalking the ground just beneath the sunset drum Rhythmic, panting, nightshade Which swallowed the rain And cracked the desert ground.

I saw the eyes in the undergrowth first, Just outside the ceremonial city The eyes that eat the planets And the shadow of the great snake who danced across the sky of your body. The ships came like apparitions from the stars, a ritual night

Rising over the canopy of trees.

The rock face is living, breathing Pointing the way in an endless direction Toward the south of the world soul The tree branches of creation swinging in the gale wind Executioners of the divine will. Each man’s eyes are pointed skyward, about, caught in a deluge of fear And thus he does not look up And grasp the signposts, writ into the soil and sea like hieroglyphs: The inverse proposition of the gods is this: That the symbols already themselves stand for man’s path, Breached like the Red Sea of Moses Through which his life force energy is channeled and witnessed. If man truly sees, he sees each sign, The butterfly that tows his side, The wild in the cat’s eye, And the riverboat chasing, recklessly, to the end of the night.

To truly see is to come into the terror Like the embrace of a Death Mother Her nature from which man is made Her nature which is brutal and yet entirely still Through which blood is exchanged in rites: Between the mouth of the hyena, the silk of the dandelion The swinging of the breeze In a vein of millennium channels Which mark his place and time In the swirling body of her storm-cosmos. Man is shipwrecked in an endless night and entreated by the gods of lightning and thunder,

Swamped in the sea of his own consciousness: Enticed by the energetic light Which bites back at him from the abyss. Tell me, what do you truly see? In the daytime light in the garden? The thrashing of the waterbugs And the screaming of your mistress, your witness? Your Gamesman Mother who will not heel And gnashes at your living soul with her hounds teeth?

There is no danger here, out on the edge But swirling, open night. Shipwrecked or not, man is deathless And yet always banging at some lover’s door. Let me in! He cries, in a starless night Riddled by the infinite game, going out of house: Refugee, slave, king, god, the mother’s arm, leg, Disguised as a garland, a flag, a burning bush. Is she a rapist or a savior? The eyes of the dawn do not lie They only whisper like a lover, soft and low, Dragging you deeper into the game of her nature. Come out of the flesh? Where you’ve been so endlessly lost? How many words are there for infinity? You count them, and they are your disguises.

Drink her milk, yes – It flashes in the water, comes with storms Rides with desire On a firelight over the sea-skies And lands in your mouth. Each peak and valley her breast and womb, each sky her breath And her children arms and legs. They all cry out, ‘Mother! Come to me!’

And the blood rushes and speaks The limb of limbs becomes animated And dances a dagger dance Cutting away at the overgrowth of death. A killer’s garden, she is – And what am I but a killer’s son?

Guardian of the night temple Sits at the foot of the stairs With his black dog And witnesses the constellations dance Into the early hours.

For him, Night comes with insect gladness And the witnessing of the gods Blessing the stone temple With their eyes.

In the night The wilderness about the temple reverberates With ancient splendor: The blood dropped in the ground is still present Blessed in a sacrificial rite Which is not murder.

Today, the civilization lives on in the stone. Like magma solidified The fire of spirit witnesses the passage of thousands of years Within the inner chamber of its hidden nature.

In the air of the insect chants The nightwatchman can still hear the ancient city Dawning even to this day And witnessing the procession of the stars Unto a new horizon.

The keepers of the sacred mysteries Draw the symbols of the age Upon the scroll walls of mankind And measure the length, width, and breadth Between the hands of the gods, outstretched

Forming the canopy of the stars.

In the witnessing of night They reflect upon the day of conscious life And reveal the hidden, inner mystery Which is the world of the spirit and soul Churning, as if some sacramental blood Imbedded in each tree and stone.

It comes to life In the eye of man, The artist of the scrolls who mimicks the dance of stars Upon the cave walls Or the medicine man Who has disappeared into the thick brush of nature And has himself become an elixir.

Guardian of the night temple Sits at the foot of the stairs Dreaming of a black dog And witnesses his eyes dance In the sacrificial flame of night.

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THE SLAVE STATE

The current condition of the global marketplace (and America as being one of the pro-founding proponents of said marketplace, absolute ‘capitalism’) is one of absolute enslavement. The term ‘capital’, rather, is a substitute for ‘enslavement’ – so as to say, that this or that resource, material, or ‘thing’ – comes with a corresponding definition, use-value, and cost.

The human society under capital-‘ism’ is one of mass enslavement at all costs, or as the French Aristocracy motto at the time of the French Revolution spoke, ‘pleasure at all costs’. It is a society of ritual sacrifice: wherein those sacrificed are, succinctly, ‘the poor’, as in, those defined as ‘less than’ or deserving of ‘less than’ or ‘inhuman’ or ‘slaves’ to work, culture, education, and the mechanisms of civil society which operate as such: to generate money and a working class to perform the mechanistic slave labor of civilization for ‘the rich’, or the ‘elites’ – a class of ‘human beings’ wherein the defining characteristic or trait is a ‘pleasure at all costs’ mentality and ethos: which means, necessarily, the enslavement of a ‘working class’ by means of violent control, assertion, and domination of resources in order to keep said ‘working class’ working to survive.

There is nothing about the culture of modern ‘work’ which does not function as a gear or a cog within the larger mechanism of ‘the social order’, or absolute capitalism. Therein, work is not even done for the survival of the worker, but rather, for the expanding and expounding upon the lavish life of ‘the rich’. This is done by way of creating the sphere of illusion called

‘the world’ within and wherein ‘human life’ is contained, rote with all the daily necessities of existence – necessities which absolutely define modernity from the tribalism of ages past: social structures such as grocery stores, roads and public transport, and so forth. These ‘necessities’ are rather a screen, or a film, or a dream of ‘human civilized life’ – which, when and once stripped away, reveal the animal nature of the scene - one which must be, necessarily, disavowed and revoked from the culture as a means of controlling the working populace. Without such a social hierarchy of power, there can be no profit, and no ruling class.

This leads us to the conjecture of a coming ‘society- less’ existence, or the natural existence of man which corresponds directly with the fall of civilization as an unsustainable conjecture – made ever more prevalent by the available technologies which record brutality and mistreatment and the rising costs of absolute capitalism (both in terms of the earth and of human beings, as the two cannot be separated or divorced, human beings are made of earth). Such a society-less existence is impossible to imagine but as a retroactive or a reactionary glancing backward into the abyss of the past, wherein we imagine ‘righteous’ and ‘peaceful’ agrarian communities or tribes of milleniums come and gone. It is impossible to imagine precisely because it has never happened, and rather cannot possibly happen without the coming fall of global capitalism by means of the collapse of its own internal rationality.

To live in the age of global capitalism is to live in the age of utter insanity, where parents betray their children because they know no better, the rich live lives of absolutely divorced delusion, and the school systems teach illusions taught by unqualified hyper-intellectuals

who have passed through their very walls and found the bureaucratic approval they sought to become managers of the next generation. In short, there is no learning but only an education, as to inherit the mantles of the dying generations past and passing – those of the laborers who will uphold the pillars of a cold and dead society and civilization, which requires the living breath of labor to sustain and uphold its structures, hierarchies, and codified internal reason. In this way, these social structures and orders are actively anti-life, in that they are not living and could never be (as they are systems of belief, rationality, and reason, codified as ‘the world’) – and furthermore, that they are established by the ruling class of the given civilization or society – a ruling class that is actively invested in maintaining and escalating its status as such – to be ‘raised above’ the masses.

This escalation is one that is primarily psychological, and itself can be described as a psychosis, an illusion of man’s elevation above and subordination of, not only his fellow man, but of the nature from which he springs and seeks dominion. Such a psychosis could not be possible without a primary irrationality resident beneath the cold calculus of a hypereconomic world of monetary exchanges, where everything has a price – and this primary irrationality is a divorce, a mental divorce, hyperintellectual, between the actual, organismic existence of the animal, and its super- elevated brain, or ‘thinking nature’, which has, quite simply, been hijacked by pleasure, sense-‘realities’, and the delusion of belief which is the conviction that the consciousness which is observing, or living life, is the ‘pleasure body’.

Men turn away from sacrifices and pain because they are naturally pain averse, in their very animal nature, from affliction and suffering felt at the level of the body. That they turn away from suffering means that they do not root into it and understand the function of suffering as a means to growth, a sacrifice as a means to revelation, or as Marion Woodman and Daniela Sieff put it, the function of suffering as a death into life, or the ‘Apocalypse Mother’ function. This turning away from the death into life function is a turning toward the cold, calculus death of the ‘Death Mother’, or the cold stone face of nonexistence writ large into and as ‘the world’. This is the world we observe today: one which, for the large part, particularly at the level of the beaureaucrats, orators, and managers of culture and state – is uncaring, cold, callous toward the suffering of others, and furthermore, actively propogates the suffering of others for its own gain and egotistical vision of self supremacy.

For this is precisely what it takes in order to come into or inhabit positions of power, to rise above others by climbing upon their backs: a vision of life which is, in the writings of Hannah Arendt, ‘Eichmann-ian’, or a vision of life which privileges the cold calculus of self elevation at all costs, including the costs of mass genocide, the suffering of others, the death of emotionality, and ultimately, the death of the living ability to love. Such men, reaching this apocryphal state of madness, know nothing of themselves, and know nothing of love – but instead know only the nature of the pleasures which for a brief moment distract them from the darkness and existential suffering which is the conformation of their turned- away ‘reality’ and ‘world-making world-breaking’ project of ‘selfcraft’: the carnality of sex without

capacity to feel and love and connect with another, the relationships used and discarded for political power and gain, the materials, food, people, earth, garnished and ravenously consumed to fill the gaping voids of the flesh – and yet, the spiritual void or cavern deepens – overwhelming them to the explosion, or volcanic eruption of the despair of the unconscious, the unloved in the face of the unreality of this farcical ‘life of consciousness’ – into acts of horrific violence – both at the level of the local and the global.

This is a learned trait, which can be called a coping mechanism – a coping mechanism for a learned and lived reality which is a cyclical one – a social order and existence of humanity which has been characterized by the ‘Death Mother’, or a cruel and unforgiving terrain which matches the vision of the dominion of nature which his ancestors long sought to overcome in the establishment of ‘stable society’, or the search for food, water, and a place to sleep amidst the galestorm and overwhelming presence of The First Mother – the very creation which birthed him and resides all around him symbolic and symbolized by and as ‘the earth’ and ‘the world’. This is the very ‘nature’ which turns and turns around man and mankind – consistently, constantly, and unconsciously reproduced in and as his ‘world’ – or the conjecture of his vision of self, and vision of others, and vision of ‘how life works’.

The primary aspect here is imagination; furthermore, how imagination functions to perpetually craft and cultivate and create lived realities. This is, in short, the vision of what is possible, and what is ‘impossible’; the very bounds, limitations, and borders consciousness places upon itself in the lived experience of living life. This is the border and bound between ‘the everyday’

(the circling time of the imagination-ceiling of debt) and the apocalypse of miracles, or the revelation of possibility beyond the mind’s former capacity, ability, or willingness to expand consciousness (itself). For the mind is consciousness itself, seemingly relegated to ‘the container’ of the brain, of the body, and yet, as many sciences across space and time have shown, the brain is not the beginning or the end of the mind, both in terms of ‘the human body-organism’, and in terms of the cosmos. Rather, the mind is fluid, and is being constantly internally influenced and interacted with by and to itself; the mind is itself energetic, changeable, changing, even as ‘human eyes and ears’ believe that they observe the static ‘nature’ of buildings, trees, themselves.

For it is, first and foremost, that the vision of the world is a vision of imprisonment propounded by the imagination which is being acted on and interacting with several forces, which can be simply and clearly synthesized as the culturos and the bios. The culturos being, the history and time and space of human culture and conjecture about the nature of existence, creation, and life – and the bios being, the organism itself, intertwined with and intersecting with the culturos at the level of the genealogy of the organism, the very coded mater from whence it came, comes, and is coming – revealing and revelating and unfolding itself even today as in the ‘now moment’.

The imagination, however, is the distilled essence or pure crystal of the life force energy, the power and primordial thrust of creation. It is what is intimately and essentially tied into the very fabric and thrust of creation – that which is the element and aspect of vision, desire, feeling, passion, and power. All aspects and

elements of self concept, world concept, and life concept are generated as and at the mind’s eye, or the inner vision of consciousness reflecting upon itself and identifying itself to be ‘this way or that’ – and thus forming definitions, or thought-forms, which concretize in the living and lived action of belief into ‘worldly forms’ or ‘realities’. It is such that as a man believes, upon this rock he builds his church; that as a man believes, he goes to war (he ‘acts’) for the theatre, projection, and imag(ination) of his cause. The imagination is itself the first cause, or from which the image of life springs.

Therein, we witness the battle for life and earth and power and world and self unfolding as on the material plane: the imagination, the stainless glass through which imaginal images are projected into thought forms into worldly forms – and the struggle for control, first and foremost, over the energetic power, capability, and capacity of imagination (which is the life force energy itself) by way of submitting it to the internal reason (or the cold, stone madness) of the Death Mother manifest, the civilization, society, or machine through which life force energy is harnessed, processed, and controlled to produce outcomes: pyramids, skyscrapers, wealth, power, products – by way of the conversion of the first raw material, energy, (manifest both in petrol, and the living, pulsing blood of human beings) into outcomes.

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Implicit in your action is the vision of the divine Held focused, constant and steady Like the compass of a North Star Unseen, yet grasped in the spiritual vision Made manifest in the eye Like a concoction or elixir By ingesting that which allows one To see between this world and the next.

For if this life is a dream seen with eyes That look on into the without What of the eyes that gaze within? That listen, As the immortal drum bangs on Affixing shapes upon the hot metal of the mind’s eye Branding the mortal heart?

Hold that vision, and remain here, Grounded, in the world of things made manifest In ages long past. Were you not born in the middle of some uprising? Of some glorious fire Affixing new vision to the cosmos of this city? The pyre of shopfronts Or corrupt government? Some things never change, like the changing of the guard of the gods. They take on new faces, like you, Or the howling of these dogs On this night.

They quiet, and bay at noontime, And lunch is served on that same sole plate Washed and dried come tomorrow. Can you withstand the repetitions?

That come barreling perilously to this one intersection, of space and time? This one moment and the next? It seems that the crossroads of God is lush with the possibilities of mortal love at this one moment And barren with despair the next - These hues that come calling like watchers from God All having seen a different vision of infinity. And thus they assemble the great mural From all sides and angles - Carpenters, smiths, poets, weavers And those whom God works through Like salmon in the stream. How glorious is that which is made possible through them! There is nothing wrong with what they have seen - God points like a wayward ghost in a dream, The shade of the sun in this ancient temple To a goddess, to the sport of the poem, To a vision in the slipstream of an oracle Carved in stone, jested in art: The knowing beyond language - Focus not there but on the dark hand which points them The deeper vision of the hieroglyph Into the seeming stone, Into the abyss of night contained within the stone: That even this most compact substance contains And is composed by that very air, the menos, The breath of the gods Breathed even on this very day, now By the slip of creation night

Who said this vision must be true? But it is the truth within that upholds all visions And bades them come near

Drawn with the perfect magnetism Which is engrained in the core of the planets The wanderers, our wanderers, us. Do you have this perfect vision of a teacup, Or a wild vine? Can you tell the difference between a clockface and the nature of time? The answer is a laughing yes, to this, And all these questions posed Even with the demeanor of great seriousness. The one who understands this is whole. So how shall we play this game of eternity, you and I, Other than to celebrate the beauty and glory of our love? And to understand that the simple nature of today is worth grasping And the joy that comes with the strange tide of longing That floats over even the resting body of us And begs dancing Or else a poem or two. How else do the gods call us? How else can we play along In the silent orchestra of God, Where there is simultaneously mad yelling And the reverberation of true, deep Silence Shot from a cannon, or the slingshot of David?

This is no myth or epic, But something regular - like a pulse. Do you feel it? In the knees and legs and arms In the time of the eyes and the rhyme The swing of the drunken, barreling gods Running through time on winged feet Running through time on sanded beaches And witnessing the rise and fall of consciousness.

The thought lives between two breaths: It rises and proudly pronounces With the wit of a jester and the pride of a king The true words. All words are true words And they dance in the infinite tide of meaning: That which reaches the ground of today, And calls out to you or I with an unknown name And beckons, forth, come near to me So that we might come to know one another. Is this not how you and I met? Is this not how the word rises From the hearth within To the bridge of the mouth Barreling out into this metropolis?

It is not a mad raging Nor is it a death But rather this steady rhythm and pulsing Which is our living. Do you feel the pulse of today? Fearful or urgent, calm or slow? The march of time goes nowhere And yet quickens and lows. The one who understands this is at true center. Attune to the pulse, and may it rest! Learn the rest of the breath Between two impossible points The inhale that never comes And the exhale that never goes. What is there to fear? The very crux of the breath rests upon an infinity Where nothing is given and yet nothing is taken. Should we not come and go Like wanderers? But speak not of ‘shoulds’

And simply come and go.

Hold no images In the rising and falling of the breath. Thus come and go like empires Like visions Like days and nights In their own bodies With eyes, ears, nose, and mouth. Have you seen the face of night? The breast of day? The foolishness of all ways Is the way. She rises over the horizon Past the temples of the moon In an unabashed eroticism. Can you hold the mad longing for her Beside the eternal truth That she is you, That she is I, That the two are one? You long for yourself In a perfect vision Where the eyes are returned To the skull of living stars And behold - the remembrance Of the cosmos.

At each moment the word is ready to birth us, treelings From the fire pit once called hell Which is really only the primordial well, the volcano Wherein words find shape and form, Forged in the pit of the sacrum Riding forth through the chambers of the chest And the starlight window of the mouth and throat.

This body is a perfect chamber for creation Wherein words ride freely, uncalled for Petulant, languageless, and thus they ride without meaning They ride because they must and shall like river-water and licks of fire and flame They ride like thoughts in a private gravity And their meaningless drops rain down upon the earth in true poetry.

Take away the interpretation, strip away the dirge, the lyric The reason that builds the temple of this city and find the reasonless poem The poem that springs forth like raw necessity, desirous red, The breath, the lungs of the poem The leopard of the poem, or the lion Whose pride is a pride of being.

The poem of life emerges like these magma bursts from beneath the surface of the earth Hissing fissures from which the core of being is exposed The raw materials of creation hinged out into the open Flung like boulders Of craftlessness. Only such clumsy stumbling is without judgement

It is a movement as simple and practical as the tipping on the axis of the planet itself. Who could judge this strange way, That spins about on its own hinge, Like a door wrought without a craftsman? A door wrought with its own inner necessity and method? The creator of the stone lies within the stone, Silent, and speaks nothing of his stoneworking. The goddess of the water whispers forever, saying nothing. Have you observed her way of being? The gods speak because of speech and speak in silence. Will you speak to them, and hold private consult? In the temple and speak in the true language of the soul missive? The one with no counterintelligence, The one whose meaning and truth are lighter than a feather? There is no way to call man into being - He resides within himself and bursts forth of his own accord: Beneath the language is the raw form of the emotion Caught on the hook of this divine timing, The drumbeat rhythm which ensnares his ear Or drives him into the undergrowth of his own mind only to burst forth In the wild of his own scene, Calling it a name, Cutting it a form.

THE POSSIBILITIES OF MODERNITY: ONE’S OWN LIVING METHOD; THE REVOLUTION AND REVELATION OF TRIBAL, CULTURAL, SOCIAL EXILE UNTO COSMIC UNITY

Consciousness Meditation – Lecture (June 9, 2022)

There is no limit to the self conception. Once we understand this, we are already whole. Perhaps the trouble is that, for whatever reason, for a variety of cultural, biological, social factors – there is a perception, or a way of seeing, that is formed, concretized – not only at the level of the individual, but at the level of the society or the social order. And this is precisely what binds the individual to the social order: so that when we say that there is a social order there is a sphere of influence in which the individual is participating, taking notes on behavior, method, way of being, reason for being, meaning for living; how to work and live amongst others.

In that this exists, we can say that the social order is an educating factor, something that occurs simultaneous with the genetic order of the organism. When we say an organism is born, it is born from a genetic order, or a genealogy of being. The term family tree applies. In that this individual is born, coded, into a certain knowing-body – a biology of living which takes into account hundreds if not thousands of years of heredity. This organism of course, is not a tabula rasa, or a clean slate, or blank page, but rather, it is oriented in some way towards life. We could call this the human species, the species load, what is occurring today in the species: a variety of different organisms expounding and propounding upon themselves, procreatively, in a society of the now, or a collective which is simultaneously influenced by the genetic load of generations past – as well as and with the current social order as it stands – which, naturally and concurrently, is going to take that genetic order into account.

So then there are two ways which are really one way that become a way of seeing. The difficulty here is to see each of these two ways as no way. And what I mean by this, is to see the infinity of true Being at the level of consciousness. And this, of course, does not come about ordinarily, so to speak. There must be an extraordinary experience. The psychologist Stan Grof calls this a ‘extraordinary state of consciousness’, or supraordinary. The writer James Joyce would call this an ’epiphany’. Dostoevsky would call it a ‘fire of consciousness’ – where it is rare that one could survive several moments in this fire without being entirely burned to pieces. And what is burned in this fire of consciousness is all that is not the fire of consciousness itself – which, in the terms of Heraclitus the philosopher, would be conceived of to be the whole thing – that the fire itself is Being, that the licks of flames that appear in the burning of the fire are the illusion of Becoming – the turning of the field of nature, of the seasons – but that Nature itself is the consciousness which is within the turning, beyond the turning, the very engine and energy of the turning, the life of the turning. That which powers the wheel of life.

To generate or inhabit this extraordinary state is something, as Dostoevsky alludes to, is not sustainable. But it is a question of reaching this extraordinary state of perception. And there are of course a variety of different ways to do it. There is the way of ingesting a substance, which produces the extraordinary state, the vision of the supranatural. And here, the supranatural is the Nature of the natural, or rather, grasping the essence which is consciousness within the field of all things, as that which produces all things. The ingestion of a revealing substance… in the term ‘psychedelic’ it is

the revelation of the psyche – so when we talk about revelation or apocalypse, what we are talking about in the most distilled sense is the realization of that which is, or the realization of the Self. And this is, of course, the fire that burns away all that is not the Self, really, the illusion of all things being existent as separate entities. But, there are, of course, methods such as meditation… and it is one’s own journey and question of how to arrive at this point – and there is no firm procedure, as you can see throughout various different cultures and ancient societies – there have been various different drinks, methods of ingestion, methods of fasting, methods of meditation, which bring about this realization state. And it is in this realization and revelation state that one comes up against the brink of death. There is no lack of risk of the perishing of ‘the self’ – and it is precisely the risk of the perishing of the self and the perishing of the self which is desired going into these states. One does not enter meditation or the psychedelic experience, the revelation of the psyche, without this knowledge. One, I will not say ‘should not’, but one should be very aware that to enter into these states means the death of all that one is not – which is the image, or the illusion, the vision of that which I believe to be true.

The death of the image of the self is silence. It is the ceasing of existence to reveal that which is, and that which lies behind existence. That which is. The firmament of consciousness, which encompasses, surrounds, lies above, below, and within the thing itself. And the perishing of this idea of the thing itself simultaneously. The perishing of the social orders, the distances, the names, the definitions ascribed and prescribed, to and from that thing itself – which is to say the organism and its identity, its complex. The

complex of the organism is something that emerges, it believes, logically – from the thinking mechanism of the organism – the mechanism and method of the organism which continually reproduces itself – in its actions, behaviors, thoughts, gestures, and voices. And where the organism’s belief of itself hinges is in the voice. When I say in the voice, there is a very firm definition that is overlaid atop of the silence, that is being overlaid as in the inner voice. The thinking of the organism, which gestures toward life, which calls itself itself, and which calls another another. And this is a learned mechanism, a mechanism learned out of necessity to survive. And again we come up against this edge of death. Is one willing to confront this inner voice and understand it to be that which it truly is, an illusion or a mechanism? For the continuance of something which never existed? And thus in the encounter with the consciousness, with the essence of the organism, the consciousness is that which lives. The image of the organism is that which dies… which is to say that the organism is a vehicle for consciousness and composed itself of consciousness. So that when the organism, or the human being, hears this voice or that voice, saying that it should do this or that it is this, or that something is that, it is that very voice or mechanism of thought, of thinking, which is the illusory container. In that we understand the limitlessness of Being, of true Being, of consciousness itself, we go inward and understand that the only imagined wall – between the image of us (which is my name and my number as I stand out on this street or in this room today) and the true essence of myself (which is all things in their absolute, concentrated, focused, attended form, attending form, the form of their formlessness and the formlessness of their form) – is this inner voice which is convicted or convinced of being

this way or that. So that when we do talk about the revelation of the psyche, it is not – there are so many different roads and ways that lead to this revelation – but the revelation is this – of the inner voice or inner voices which are conducting what you might call a game that we are not aware of, or a game that is being played that we are unknowing players in – a theatre or a stage upon which this life story or life tale is unfolding without our willing, without our consciousness, without our awareness. And this is precisely the key, as when we speak of this unification within the human of this infinity, this eternity, this existence of Being – that it is a reunion of that which never left, which is to say, the utmost inner consciousness of the organism with the utmost inner consciousness of Being – of consciousness with consciousness at essence, at ground, at the point and perenniality of composition – they are one and the same and of the same infinite point. It is a question of a way of recognition, a way of seeing.

So this shifting of perception is an encounter with these inner voices which might be called actors, who are acting within the organism, telling a very specific story or tale, and this tale – it is and does have a history. You might call this tale the history of the entirety of humanity, the history of the human being itself, playing out within each individual. At the intersection of the cultural – which is to say the social, the social order, the social myth, the social ideology of the way of being, an ethics, a system of values – as well as and intertwined with the genealogy of the organism – which is to say the story that is being told through the history of the organism which is being passed down in genetic code, in flesh and blood. And this is a physical story – it is very physical – in that it is a question of the transformation of matter, the transformation of

energetic being and energetic codes in and through time and space. And to grasp this matter as energy is not only to grasp the infinity of being, but the inherent mutability of these stories and narratives. Wherein they are emerging as voices, as figures of speech, figures of speech being figures of consciousness – in themselves being of the quality of wax, in that when they are heated up, or attended, or when acquired focus, change form. When energy is given, or energy is provided, or the life force focus of consciousness is attended to them – they shift quite easily. Which is to say, they turn from a solid to a liquid, or to a gas, to an aether. This is how we must understand the physical world, or the world of material things. Because in doing so, we see through time and space in an attendant way, meaning that we are witness to the transformation of consciousness itself (pulsing or breathing as ‘apparent things’ and ‘disapparent things’) as consciousness itself through time and space. And in this attendance, we begin to understand nature. And this nature, is of course, us – as we change in the level of the apparent or the phenomenal in old age, strength, what have you.

It must be noted here that we must not mistake ourselves for being the thing that changes, but rather the change within the thing – the very essence of change. And in this sense, we become closer identified with consciousness. So it is not to say that we are these voices of the psyche, that provide the storyline or the narrative, or that we are the thoughts, that we are the body or the presumed, conjectured identity or self image, but rather that we are the Self itself – that is the transformational power, force, and thrust. That powers and empowers all things; that there is no border, no separation, that the Self is at one and at once. A

breathing, beating heart that is beyond our conception of vision-cosmos, and the universal whole. And it is whole beyond our ability to ______. And in this sense, with a deeper identity, we begin to see such things as thoughts, or the self conjecture, as rather ripples upon the surface. The thought, is something that happens or doesn’t happen, comes and goes – and that the inherent meaninglessness of the thought or the thinking of thing, goes down to the very depths or essence of the pure, cosmic life force energy of consciousness which forms and informs them at any given moment in time. And to identify, and see and be with this formless form of consciousness is to ascribe no value and no meaning to the apparent ‘changing’, but rather to be the very change-essence itself – the very life force and thrust which is the generation and consummation of all life. To reside there and to meditate on the very core and essence and nature of OneSelf. And this is something that is a very powerful occurrence.

Living on a razor’s edge Between a storm that threatens to fall Like a guillotine On the eyes. Life is a majestic voyage – Not some shutaway venture: Our love is sparring, brawling even, Some toothless tiger outside… For we have ripped the teeth from the mouth of the beast And adorned ourselves with the shards of its mouth Dancing around the open flame of our hearts.

It is mad joyous, way out there On the brink of some tidal wave Slipping through the veil To some forgotten field, or sea Nameless, placeless, faceless Touched only by the ones you love. How do we climb that mountain? See us, with no hands, no feet Squirming like some forgotten child – bearings of the universe In utero forever, mapless A hand on the belly of the womb, A hand in the dark mouth of the abyss –

Why cage it? The wild thing that needs you so badly That I need I And we’ll tear the world apart to get it Like folding over a piece of paper And into the mail slot of time Goes all these forgotten love letters… - How many times have we known the same thing? That plods along in the ancient rhythm of the true knowledge of touch

The assurance that says, ‘Ah, yes, this is the one – This is the here and now’. Picking you out of a crowd like a playschool child Dandelion fist And a big grin – The pulpit of today is wide open, Brigades of poems return from war and are right here, In this mouth of eternity Waiting to be married to true feeling. And this is my feeling for you – freedom Your liberation is an unscuffed love A new shoe or a diamond mine, something too hot and raw for human hands I won’t give it a name, For every name has its reason, its great big lie.

How will you carry on into tomorrow? Wearing the same face Unchained to the memory Visited by the freedom of the stars – You must go holding onto nothing Towing the wild freedom of a mad beast, Heated with feeling and accepting nothing. Do not ride your love down and saddle it. Do not call it a name.

You sent me into this madness to scrawl a few lines on a cocktail napkin Sweating, my scarred eyes leering in the sun: Damn you, made a leper out of all of us, This whole country a desert These hags breathing gasoline smoke, paint thinner hunger Dying for sex And the whole thing on the edge of a match Taunting, with a cock-eyed grin, Taunting, Destiny’s crooked finger.

How many times have you made meaningless love And been backed up against the dying light Only to laugh at an invisible joke Tossed up into the air Like a piece of trash, a coin-flip lifetime Like the birthright of these modern babies Choking on their umbilical cords Spit out into a world that has forgotten the very soul That consumes them from within Like wet ash?

The tar mouth of this empire Spits and swallows everything. Everything you think you know, beat into you with rocks and the blunt end of a knife, words Riddling the atmosphere into an incomprensible code. Even the law likes to fuck, behind closed doors When no one’s watching, or even when she is. The freak of nature is weaving the fates of men Who sit and laugh in dive bars At the abuse And the slow creep and crawl of time Like a blues riff.

The cadence of your life has been jest after jest And today you call it art, Tomorrow you will call it fate And the next you will call it a cruel joke, or sin. The ways of time are ancient and mysterious – All the rest that we know we see with hands Carved into stone. Even the agony days of our ancestors were couched with survival Backbreakingly poor until the starlight crested Over the eyelids and the infinite was exposed Like the naked body of the lover And the brief moment of the exaltation of the universe; The cavernous womb of a galaxy And the open arms of death Painted on the chaplain’s eyes, Painted over the starlight vista Painted on the cavern walls.

They died in camps or died of starvation Died holding hands or else died in their sleep. How many secrets do the gates of time keep? Cold in the dark; cold in the deep. How many secrets do the gates of time keep? I look forward into the spotted abyss and I see nothing coming But that train that will take me home The place I called my home Once upon a time, some time long ago. I’m rushing forward, grabbing your hand in a dark mob Drinking wine and having music rush forth Rogue wave, unexpected, glad visitation From a ghost of the firedances We used to know.

Has the poem rested my complaint with you? Forbidden knowledge that no one has; The moment I mention a place, it’s scabbed over; The wound is forgotten, nonexistent The bubble of a dream, cloistered, abandoned In a graveyard where dreams go to sleep, get naked And birth new desires While the rest of us are drunk and alone. How many more children will spill from your mouth, Mother? Your fount so calm, cool, and untouched by mankind - The first stream where waters flow that will wake me from this stillness The rote drumbeat of my life And pound these stakes into my eyes so I shall see again, truly! Once more! Kill me, sacrifice me so I may become anew, again, Pounding with a fervor Thirsty for war and livings.

You must become awake to the tremendous subterranean forces Which threaten to shipwreck your life forever On cove islands pretending to be dreams, On sweet siren songs.

Do not let that shipwrecked place of unwitting men become your home.

‘Where’d you learn about / Satan – out of a book / Love? – out of a box’ – Jim Morrison

The great, casual beast is upon us With drone altitudes, and concrete high-wall guard towers Temples of the dead bathed in cement And plastic. The places of worship, once salutary and medicinal Have been stripped, ransacked By these raiders of meaninglessness. Now, we look up at the sky and see the gorgon of smoke Spewing from the factory mouth. Now, we look within and are cursed by language Blinded with eyes from within.

You, not Oedipus, not Odin, not Tiresias You, doomed to live in a border town - halfway between the heart and the mouth Where the skies are red and the dawn is ceaseless Where the gates of the sun do not close - Come down from the parapet and tell us what you have seen - Is it covered with glittering, covetous nothings? Is it covered, still, with the dawn of your vision? The waking eyes of a child, besmirched with diamonds? Do you not see the perennial good in everything?

The mind will not have it to be tricked; to have pulled one over on me so many times That the tower is fortified with spears with the heads of my enemies upon them Gouged and rotting For forty days and forty nights. If you would only meet me in the desert, I would show you the way -

There is even a number emblazoned upon the skin of the infinite land Stretching out on the horizontal axis where you, skyless, are doomed to wander And the vertical, where these angels ascend the ladder of time With all that remains of the dead ones.

Kierkegaard gives us some portrait sketches of the styles of denying possibility, or the lies of character— which is the same thing. He is intent on describing what we today call “inauthentic” men, men who avoid developing their own uniqueness; they follow out the styles of automatic and uncritical living in which they were conditioned as children. They are “inauthentic” in that they do not belong to themselves, are not “their own” person, do not act from their own center, do not see reality on its terms; they are the onedimensional men totally immersed in the fictional games being played in their society, unable to transcend their social conditioning: the corporation men in the West, the bureaucrats in the East, the tribal men locked up in tradition—man everywhere who doesn't understand what it means to think for himself and who, if he did, would shrink back at the idea of such audacity and exposure.

Ernest Becker
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It is the lack of faith that ruins love.

The simple minded are those caged in chains far greater and deeper than one like me can imagine – faced with the quarrel with God, a playful laughing quarrel, where all things are devices for enlightenment. Therein, there is no morality, no virtue, no ‘problem’.

For these people, the ‘average men’ as Becker refers to them, are the ones who truly suffer in that they are so deeply ensnared in the unknowing of their own suffering that by any of their own devices they cannot even peer into the jaws of fate – caught as they are in the conjectures of the social, the cultural, the biological – entirely ensnared in the illusory content of their lives which binds them by human law and reason.

This is to say that they are hopelessly incomplete, journeying, and somewhere between self realization and the purgatory of the purely animal impulse. They are the religious who worship idols, who fret over impossible (nonexistent) decisions, the Hamlets, the warlords, the social climbers, the imagists. These are the ones who so deeply imagine that they are ungrounded, lost in a dream, a dream that isn’t theirs, a dream with no feeling, no arms, no legs, no blood.

And it is these false dreamers who wed the false dreamers and perpetuate the society of falsity, of the necessary masks which are all the distraction and culture necessary to avoid the base and essential truth of existence: that man carves his own path in the wilderness of existence, on the cross of the spirit and the flesh – and forges his own true self as an art of ever deeper inward looking into the essence and nature of his very own soul to the extent that he goes mad, dies

to himself, and becomes the infinite, and returns once more as a man – like Odin or Oedipus, with changed vision. His entire perception dies and is reborn insofar and insomuch as he may withstand it – and such a disposition and pastime is the pastime of strong men, brave men, courageous men – men with the fortitude to withstand many deaths in this one lifetime.

It is such that these men rise with the blood of consciousness and a thousand philosophical suicides on a transcendence which is a journey of the self and soul – in the face of whichever calamity or loss he is stripped to the bare essence of himself and stares face to face into the black sun of the intersection of his heart and soul – he stares into the abyss and witnesses the gaze of his own inner eye. Few can withstand such a procedure without going mortally mad, deranged of their senses, thrown from the compass of their psyche. It is in this way that true genius and madmen have more in common than the mass of the slave-herd combined – that they both trawl the deeps with seer- eyes. It is the genius which resurfaces to the light of outer day; it is the madmen who remain in the eternal night. They both come to vision with the eyes of the dead.

Genius throws off the yoke of everything, like a madman does instinctively – the yoke of culture, biology, family, history, reason, humanity – and stares directly in the face the absurd truth of existence: the cross of spirit and matter, the animal and god nature in the timeless infinity of this one moment – unfolding all at once, rushing with the oneness of a great and terribly beating heart. The drumbeat and rhythm of eternity which is drumless, the reverberation of the source of life echoing in the black abyss which slowly is

transfigured by the sound. The very sound of creation changes time. What else exists but this? The madman and the genius both know – the name and game of culture, humanity, law, and the rest of the pretends and pretenses of the carnival that is the march of a species turned away in fright from its very essence and core nature is nothing more than a waste of time at best and a prison for life, a hell at worst. And yet, the slave-masses linger there, to the yoke of comfort and security – to that which they behold and beholds them in the illusion of safety – the rote of tradition and ascribed virtue, meaning, and linear time. They live, like their animal ancestors, with their faces to the ground, arms and legs to the ground, looking down at the dirt, where they will soon be laid.

The consciousness must be immortally and eternally free, as in its essence. It is the Promethean quality of man, and it is man himself – that which resides on the axis of the horizontal and the vertical – the very quality which challenges the gods and enlightens the herd with fire. Here, the herd is not the relevant matter at hand, but rather the Promethean quality as a poetic revelation of fire – or the Heraclitean essence of the universe itself before the very eyes of the animal – raised from clay and raised to the enlightenment of his condition by Platonic allegory. He achieves vision precisely in a reframing of the fire’s light – no longer mistaking the licks of flame for figures of truth, nor the shadows on the wall for the theatre of reality – but rather emerges the whole of the fire itself as the living, breathing, charging, passionate essence of cosmic creation itself. It becomes identified with the very fire and charge of the fire – no longer enslaved to the imagistic representations which dictate shallow sight, or sight of the surface. He begins to feel the life and

inner face within the stone, the soul within the animal, the breathing being within the earthen terrain. He becomes further identified with the Nature-essence – he lives and breathes, with Plotinus, as everything lives and breathes together, as and at one and at once. This form of cosmic meditation is a union and being at unity with the divine self which is an embodiment of the axis of the living breathing ‘animal’ as a channel through consciousness itself – or a synchronicity of living-breathing-speaking-being with the Cosmic Breath of Being as a pulsing, an inhalation-exhalation which is the contraction and expansion of the cosmic womb of the universe as it births new being- unknowing-seeings – new eyes and angels of God.

This is for me – it is not for the culture of man, the insane lost dance of the modern world, the jackal exhibition of mankind… it is for this soul, this consciousness, which came down for an act on earth for this reason – to observe, to witness, and from this observation and witnessing to come into true understanding of the mechanics and unconscious nature of this world – and to write it, and to live differently – to live this soul’s own breath – not to go the way of sages past, philosophers past, mystics past… but rather to go boldly in such a fashion that if it means to leave these masses of slave men behind, then so be it. If it means to leave it all behind, then so be it. I will be like Inanna a hundred times over – stripped of the world to reveal the iron core within – that which remains when all else has been burned away – the very heat and essence of the fire itself.

‘It was Paul Roazen who, in his recent brilliant interpretation, revealed the central meaning of these fainting spells. Like Rank, Roazen understood that the psychoanalytic movement as a whole was Freuds distinctive causa-sui project; it was his personal vehicle for heroism, for transcendence of his vulnerability and human limitations. As we will see in the following chapters, Rank was the one who showed that the true genius has an immense problem that other men do not. He has to earn his value as a person from his work, which means that his work has to carry the burden of justifying him. What does “justifying” mean for man? It means transcending death by qualifying for immortality. The genius repeats the narcissistic inflation of the child; he lives the fantasy of the control of life and death, of destiny, in the “body” of his work. The uniqueness of the genius also cuts off his roots. He is a phenomenon that was not foreshadowed; he doesn't seem to have any traceable debts to the qualities of others; he seems to have sprung self- generated out of nature. We might say that he has the “purest” causa-sui project: He is truly without a family, the father of himself…

But now the problem of the causa-sui project of the genius. In the normal Oedipal project the person internalizes the parents and the superego they embody, that is, the culture at large. But the genius cannot do this because his project is unique; it cannot be filled up by the parents or the culture. It is created specifically by a renunciation of the parents, a renunciation of what they represent and even of their own concrete persons—at least in fantasy— as there doesn’t seem to be anything in them that has caused the genius. Here we see whence the genius gets his extra burden of guilt: he has renounced the father both spiritually and

physically. This act gives him extra anxiety because now he is vulnerable in his turn, as he has no one to stand on. He is alone in his freedom. Guilt is a function of fear, as Rank said…

But there is the ambivalence that Freud—like all of us—was caught in. To melt oneself trustingly into the father, or the fathersubstitute, or even the Great Father in the sky, is to abandon the causa-sui project, the attempt to be father of oneself. And if you abandon that you are diminished, your destiny is no longer your own; you are the eternal child making your way in the world of the elders. And what kind of world is that, if you are trying to bring into it something of your own, something distinctively new, world-historical, and revolutionary? That is why Freud had to fight against yielding—he risked effacing his whole identity. He was spinning his own web; how could he suspend himself in someone else’s? It was Rank more than anyone who understood the problem of mere mortals who are saddled with the works of genius: Where are they to get the support for their own daring and overshadowing creations?...

What, actually, does it mean to be a tragic figure firmly in the grip of ones daimon? It means to possess great talent, to relentlessly pursue the expression of that talent through the unswerving affirmation of the causa- sui project that alone gives it birth and form. One is consumed by what he must do to express his gift. The passion of his character becomes inseparable from his dogma. Jung says the same thing beautifully when he concludes that Freud “must himself be so profoundly affected by the power of Eros that he actually wished to elevate it into a dogma . . . like a religious numen.” Eros is precisely the natural energy of the child’s

organism that will not let him rest, that keeps propelling him forward in a driven way while he fashions the lie of his character—which ironically permits that very drivenness to continue, but now under the illusion of selfcontrol…

It seems to me that the two reluctances are related in his refusal to abandon the causa-sui project, which would have led to a larger problematic view of human creatureliness. But such a view is the seeding-ground of faith, or at least brings the person right up to faith as an experiential reality and not an illusion. Freud never allowed himself to step upon this ground. Eros is a narrowing down, in Freud, of a broader experiential horizon. Or, put another way, in order to move from scientific creatureliness to religious creatureliness, the terror of death would have to replace sex, and inner passivity would have to replace obsessive Eros, the drive of the creature. And it was just this twofold yielding—inner emotional and conceptual—that Freud could not quite manage. For to do so, as Jung judged with understanding, would mean to abandon his own diamon, his whole unique passion as a genius…’

Ernest Becker

… men, incapable of liberty—who cannot stand the terror of the sacred that manifests itself before their open eyes—must turn to mystery, must hide . . . the .. . truth. — Carlo Levi

FOR KALI

Where shall the modern man go? Each seeming road blocked with the impasse Of shadow and stone. In the night of his life he emerges in each breaking day Gasping for air As if a fish sworn from the shallows of the dream Into the waking of the day. God has travelled great distances to greet you. First, from the heavens, then from the mouth of your lover And into your body, in some surgery of light. This is the story of the history of mankind. What will you do, knowing that this body will die, Become shrivelled, fallow, food for the gods With faces like birds And eyes like glowing, hungry sirens? Sit down, today, and take death in like a breath Spoonfuls of the tonic of life, which appears to the lovers as poison The no way that will submerge the two within the eternal one. As we lie naked, on this night or the next Death comes about us like a visitation Calm, bringing loaves of bread Forgetting the fury of our consummation. In other days we might have laid down our arms for a fair cause, one another, the temple where the oracle stays, bathing in raw force shot up from the earth’s core, a vision of the divine produced by tea leaves Or else the passion for God – who is also, always, But never truly here.

What can I give you, sacrament of my life,

Bread of my body, Wine of my blood? What can I give you, save the half man, half god? I have been stolen from the lightest whim, A pure thought, not even a fetus And left on the doorstep of this earth like a lost child. As were you; what does this make us? Exiles? Wanderers? A pair? What exists between us is nothing but the raw energetic force which we elevate to the sublime The feeling, the pure feeling, That essential thing that is deeper than our words, deeper than our thoughts. It pulses through us in each kiss, touch, and mad longing. How will we solve the problem of God and our eternal salvation? Will we be surrendered, or become truly individuals?

What in your life calls to you, like a rogue voice, Something emerging from within, your innate pregnancy – The birth of your inner child? Where is that lone, true voice – that holds your purpose? You cannot ask me – I burn like a free and open flame, I know nothing of poems, truths, or reason But I hold fast to the law of the fields and the harvests, The cycles of the moon And I birth what is within me openly The gifts of my death, The eggs of my love. Where does it call from? Where is your wild soul That loves you truly and beats back the drudgery of the day With the promise of self realization?

The sages were wrong – it is not surrender to the infinite. It is the fulfillment of your sacred reason, that which you were called down to this earth for, from angel- form, The angel speak of your words: The culmination of each word you have spoken From your youth until this point in time – The book of your soul, writ complete In the actualization of your dream. Will you not chase this dream down in your waking life? Do it now! Time dwindles like a wandering clock, chiming off in the distance, and the slumber of the day is cityless, Filled with the bustle of others who dream like you and I – holding their dreams in cages, and lockboxes, admiring them from afar, fearful of what it would mean to touch the burning flame within. The realization of the dream is essential – we hold it within us like a chrysalis from death, a burgeoning expression which is to burst from the seat of your soul like a volcano, out into the unsuspecting air of the world – creating land where there once was only the water of consciousness. It is your spirit! Your life! You are here to create yourself, in your own specific way. Is this not the powers of creation in action? Do not take them to be a hubris or a jest, but rather a primary heroism – a reason for being and a mission to fulfill, an aesthetic act to the highest degree – An artwork which is not merely the transcendence, but the incorporation and culmination of the body and the cosmos – an embrace of the higher and lower orders. Man is a focused ray of light of the divine; as the cosmic creates it creates through you – It is the ‘I’ in our speech.

You are alive – what will you do with this life? Do not think it, know it through your body, a primordial rumbling – a calling without symbols – A life force which is an excitation, a reason beyond language – a true reason to live. Move with it; learn to let it breathe through you, And do not hesitate to fulfill it – grasp this life with strong hands and rend your creation from the jaws of death: sculpt it with the true urgency and see life as consciousness carving into the immortal stone. Today, look upon your soul and see it as a raw form, Asking for your engagement, interaction, and development.

168

THE WHOLLY SOUL, TRUE LOVE

The psychology, culture, and so called ‘intelligence’ of today cannot understand the very simple method – the method which is the alignment of the ‘lower self’ (the organism, the ego, the bio-consciousness, et cetera) with the ‘higher self’ (the cosmos, Consciousness, God, Source, Creation, et cetera) vis-à-vis the fulfillment of the psyche-stone, or philosopher’s stone, the immutable aspect and essence of the soul which begs of its ‘owner’ (the organism) practical realization as in a worldly embodiment, practice, and expression.

Therein, of course, we do not get into such silly discussions such as death and the meaning of life, intellectual drivel, but rather dwell practically within our own life practices and life processes as in a journey wherein a certain quality, or qualia, is seeking to be expressed vis-à-vis the being-body (or the organism) as in a vessel, a conductor, an energetic form or substance in which that very essence of form and flow is going, flowing, being, perceiving, and communing with itself. The understanding that the ‘human being’, rather, does not exist but is as itself a node of consciousness or an expressive aspect of Being at large, in a certain energetic fractalization, or beating, or rhythm, or desire-nature – is itself the key to practical and ‘right- living’ – as in an ethic of life which is not jurisdicted from without, but impressed from within as and by the soul’s missive to the living being, the life question of the being to be fulfilled in this living-act.

The living-being, is, of course, a paradox of two orders – that it is alive, and thus experiences the flow of becoming (space and time intercoursing through and

as the consciousness movement, rhythm, beating, flow) – as well as the permanent, Being aspect of Consciousness – that which neither comes nor goes, remains still in silence, the eternal moment, essence, and absolute quality which composes all things and even the ‘black space’ (to the human eye and ear) of so called ‘nonexistence’. This totality, in coalition with the experience of partiality, or subjectivity, is the imbedded ‘God and man’ within ‘the human’, or the intersection of the spirit and the flesh, or the question or inquiry into dualism or separatism that is the ‘human condition’. Here, I use quotation marks frequently as this is, of course, all speculative and illusory material. It is rather a game, a cosmic game, posited as a deeply creative (read: aesthetic) act, wherein the very ‘action’ occurring therein (‘becoming’) is rather but a projection, a theatre, a jest – unto total Self realization. And here, what Self realization means is the active embodiment of the Absolute Reality of Consciousness – wherein man lives as Consciousness itself – he is identified with it, as it, and lives thus simultaneously within it as it – his ‘node’ is active as a flow of energetic currency which is his arm or leg of being which is active with the flow of lifeblood which is the very generative Source-Material-Stuff which is, practically, all things. This is to say, again, practically, that man embodies and inhabits and embraces the higher, or third state – the cohesive, nondual state of awakening which is the synthesis of the ‘binary’ question of ‘the human condition’ – the very subjectivity-essence (his soul manifest or enfleshed in ‘matter’) and the very objectivity-essence (Consciousness itself) – in and as a ‘third state’ which is the union of ‘the lovers’ (man and God in and as one ceaseless, wholly movement) – this ‘third state’ which is the Self realization of man in and as God himself, that he is not separate or different than

the very life force energy and Source-Material-Stuff which forms the very fabric and essence and totality of the cosmos, but that he is growing and embodying and feeling into the very inner depths of Creation as Creation as he-it does his-its work of expanding into the deep reaches of the cosmos and the psyche simultaneously. This is to say, that in one fluid and ceaseless movement and moment, man reaches into his psyche to retrieve the philosopher’s stone of his soul (his ‘magnum opus’) as Creation reaches into the abyssal regions of the cosmos-universe, into new incorporated embodied knowledge of itself. The two movements are at one, simultaneous, as in a metaphysical understanding and state of Nature becoming ‘nature – or the unfolding of the play of Being into ‘becoming’ – or the highest aesthetic act of Creation occurring with cosmic simultaneity.

Therein, man’s destiny and journey is the highest Creationary-aesthetic act possible – as it is total and totalizing and absolutely whole – it is to proceed from his Absolute Self Knowledge in a project of divine and sacred Creation wherein he crafts ‘himself’, or lives the art of his life as a sort of active living-being which is immediately entwined in and as the very Cosmic Becoming outlined above – that he journeys withinto himself, the journey of man described in aeons past by humans the world over – he journeys withinto himself to retrieve the philosopher’s stone – the true voice of his soul which speaks to and through him, crafting him as if his own body and breath and very being were being channeled from the very source, spirit, essence of the cosmos itself. And this is precisely it – they are. There is only the overlay of ‘man’s culture, humankind, et cetera’ and the dross of the ‘other voices’ which are not his. The voices at a social,

cultural, and political level, which ‘tell him what to do’, and ‘reside within him artificially’. This is his ‘learned material’, or rather, baggage from his childhood, early adolescence – the baggage of a human society which is slowly learning the courage to undertake such a brave venture into the depths of its own ‘unknown’ (the region and realm of the psyche) to retrieve its own true voice. And this is precisely why there is so much cultural dross and machinery – talk of space expeditions, media distractions and narratives of wealth, grandeur, drama – our soul myths are being cast without us as distractions, refractions, fragmentations – we catch ourselves in the flashing periphery of a mirror and become terrified – we go everywhere and conquer everything but the very wilderness of our withinness; we look for God everywhere outside of ourselves. In this way, we become incredibly and deeply impoverished. We neglect our inner journey, the journey of the psyche unto the soul’s voice – and obsess ourselves with the very distractions we produce in and as ‘one another’ – wherein we find companionship and camaraderie with those who equally fear that which we fear too – our very inner power and nature – the journey we must undertake to discover our divinity.

And there is none that can proclaim and own this for us – there is not a religion or an external truth or a scientific law, rule, or reason which may pronounce us of the true immortality which we may own and is ours if we only grasp it from within ourselves. It is precisely that which we seek is not ‘intellectual knowledge’ or that which can be spoken to us, that we can be believed or convinced of, or that which is a ‘shallow voice’ – a voice which we hear that is not us, a conditioned voice – but rather the very inner voice of our own innate

being – the voice which must be actively uncovered, sought after, beating back the very brush of thousands of years of indoctrination – social, cultural, and even genetic and biological. In coming to know our true selves, we strip ourselves of ‘ourselves’ (the narrativology of ‘human existence’ and ‘human beings’ – both personally, culturally, socio-biologically generated, et cetera) – and we walk into the purifying fires of the very Consciousness which births us, that which we are – and there, like Moses, hear the voice of God within us, within the burning bush of the body. The early prophets, and the prophets of today – it is not a ‘hallucination’, but rather a revelation, or a realization of the voice within which was within all along, the voice which is begging to be realized, expressed, said, and meant with the whole of the soul, the whole of the heart – the true essence and nature of the organismic being – the very Soulness of the divine, the unity of Being at and with and as being – the organism realizing and fulfilling itself as in living itself alive, burning-realized Consciousness as in a specific node with a specific nature, way of being, way of seeing, feeling, touching, loving, being.

The emphasis here is placed on being because nothing is done here. The organism flows so naturally and so thoroughly and so wholly that it revelates the metaphysical truth of Nature in its very embodied existence – it is at once the stillness and silence of Being – the very source and essence of Creation – and yet there is this mythic, aesthetic dimension of Being- creation-becoming – the theatre of the organismic being, which is its very creative process joy, essence, and nature – that it unfolds itself as naturally as the turning of the planets or the flowing of the seasons – that it goes about its life as in a soul fulfillment – a way

of being which is like a gunshot through the wall of the social, cultural, narrative moralities, systems, conjectures, and virtues-ethics of ‘mankind’, but rather at a true, deep level embodies what it means to be human and revels in the human condition as the soul intends – to live the life of the soul as in an absolute freedom. The soul must live at this Promethean angle and thrust and essence missive flowing of life – it must live in the very embodied lifeflow and lifeforce of life – it does not reside in any such symbol, narrativology, system, system of belief, box, or slogan. It lives – it is the very living essence of the being which is that which is begging to be expressed. It is the very ‘shallow voices’ of the cultural, the social, the political, the drama and dross of ‘mankind’ which become the artificial recalcitrations of the soul – which is to say, they form the ’countervoices’ or the ‘counternarratives’ which reside as in a sediment in relation to the soul – the soul is the philosopher’s stone at the bottom of the well or the deeps of the soil – and one journeys, like Dante (Botticelli’s Inferno artwork is a great depiction of the sedimentary nature of ‘hell’) into the depths of human history and the cultural-collective human psyche in order to retrieve that which is rightfully his – bliss and the realization of the Self embodied – bliss as in the active living of the soul’s missive – casting off and away the false, illusory, pseudo ‘chains’ of the narratives which pretend to ‘educate’ and ‘acculture’ man to his true condition. Man’s truth is always already within him; it is this inner journey, whether by meditation or other such means as poetry, philosophy, the psychedelic experience – that man begins, commences, and continues the journey of venturing into himself to retrieve that which is his – Himself. Man’s divinity is as natural to him as anything that one could possibly name, in and out of existence. Any letter, any

happening, his divinity surpasses all of this. And it is precisely that it is ‘obscured’ (by the false dross of the half knowings of that which fears itself, other human beings, and in truth, the organism itself) that it is a journey; that which ‘dies’ in this journey is the concept of death – in that man becomes truly unified and identified with that which he is – Source-Essence- Spirit-Creation-Wholly-Self. In this sense, he becomes manifest in and as all things and lives as the very nodal web not only of all mankind, but all of Creation – Himself.

Now this may be difficult to imagine or understand, but you are That; there is nothing that stands between you and your true nature, That, except your false conception or perception that you are ‘not-that’, or the conditioning that you believe proves you otherwise – a single human being, an individual, existing apart from God, or nature, or other human beings, and so forth. This conditioning, interestingly enough, does not only lie at the level of the social and cultural, but also at the level of the genetic-biological – as in the orientating mechanisms of the organism – the eyes, the ears, the mouth, the touch, et cetera – all of which can be quite convincing that you are touching ‘something else’, seeing ‘something else’, and so forth. It is the conceptualizing, or judging mechanism (one could say the brain, the mind, what have you) – the reflecting upon the ‘plunging into life’ (as Goethe would say) – that gives pause (to many) in saying – this carrot I have just ingested is ‘other than me, it is not me’, or this woman I have just touched is ‘other than me, she is not me’. It is this very judging mechanism, which develops and has developed out of the very necessity to survive (I must choose the right mushroom or I will die; I must not stick my hand in the fire, or else it will be burned; I

must avoid this weapon, or I will die) – that today and throughout history has given us this double edged sword of a dilemma – the organism may ‘perish’ and the fear of the organism ‘perishing’ (‘death’, the transformation of Consciousness into ‘another form’, or ‘another way of being’) is precisely that which produces this dilemma in man. His fear of death is the very separative quality which produces ‘duality’; man’s ‘dualism’ – in that it is an artificially produced perspective created out of the necessary-necessity of the continuation of the organism as in survival. Thus, one who seeks to find his true Self – this is what he shares with all men across history who have done the same – he welcomes death with open arms. He knows that in death, the true Self emerges – as all that dies is all that is transient or perishable; all that remains is the essence. He, rather, seeks to die most thoroughly unto himself while he is still ‘living as an organism’ – as the ability, as ‘an organism’ to perceive himself as that very Consciousness-Essence is his ability to experience the revelation of the true nature of the Self-Soul by way of reflection.

Here, to risk complicating the matter further, the death in life is the death to all that is not life. It is the freeing of the Self from the pseudo- ‘chains’ of the organismic, the biological-genetic, the social, the cultural, the historical, and so forth. It is the total liberation of the human being from the true knowledge of the Self from within – the Soul’s touch upon the Very Source Of Creation, Itself. It gazes upon itself and knows itself to be itself at the very essence-centre, having burned away all that it is not in trials – burned away the apparitions to reveal the Suchness, Thusness, or Isness – the life, the living, the Being Itself. In this liberation, one uses discernment (or the sword of discernment) to cut

through the wilderness of the psyche as one travels the levels of sedimentary consciousness – down through the personal, the collective, the collective historical, and into the Universal-Wholly Basin of Consciousness- Creation Itself – where all is dissolved and revealed to be Oneself-Onesource-Essence, Consciousness Itself. In this travelling, the once believed to be ‘truths’ of social order, religious morality, the manifestation of a ‘true body’, and all such other ‘material truths’ are revealed to be energetic figurations, or brief flickerings in the flame of cosmic time believed to be true by human ears, human eyes, and so forth. This is the Maya of ‘phenomena’, or the appearance of the ripples on the surface of the water of consciousness taken to be a pure, separate form. The imagistic, conceptual ‘reality’ of man dies in this journey of the soul; in this sense, that which ‘dies’ is not at all living or dead – but rather an illusion of ‘life’ as in ‘life’ (quotation marks). At the basin and bottom of this soul journey, the very last mythic image or symbolic ‘reality’ is dissolved, leaving only the truth which resides behind this (including this text) and all things – the pure, pulsing, flowing, loving, being, feeling, life force energy itself. For it is the life force energy itself that is both fire and water – the waters of consciousness wherein each drop is a fractal of Being perceiving itself (being-Being-relating) – wherein each drop in realizing itself to be the whole is in the process of purgative fire, or burning away the illusion of being an ‘isolated drop’, or ‘individual drop’.

where do you go/what do you do to experience the greatest freedom

you go within

you have to have love for yourself, in the center of your chest

there isnt actually ‘anything’

When you are being yourself, truly yourself, you attract that which is, naturally, truly meant for you.

Meditation is awareness of what is going on within you: the voices composing the thoughts, narratives, ideas and identities. The goal of meditation is simultaneously immediate and ongoing: that you realize yourself to be pure consciousness: that which forms, and is, and lies beneath all of these ideas and identities (and thus is your true identity, wherein the ideas and thoughts are a theater and art, they come and go like wind and river-water - but that you yourself are the very air and water element that ‘composes’ them) - and furthermore, that you practice meditation as an ongoing path: that you continue to tune deeply into this happening, this unfolding of your nature - and learn how to ever-deeper observe this occurrence within yourself: and thus come into a deeper, truer identification of and with yourself as consciousness itself - while simultaneously finding greater coherence in understanding that these thoughts, ideas, and identities are not only not you, but are rather ripples in the water, flickers in the flame.

In this sense, meditation can be done in an infinite number of ways: while eating, while sleeping, while doing dishes. It is a focus, an attention to the inner state, and a conscious attunement to that which is occurring within; an active participation which is the creation (as a practice) of an ever greater discernment - an understanding of that which is (consciousness itself), and that which is a projection, an illusion, a ripple, a flicker, an image of consciousness (the vision of separate things, identities, narratives, thoughts). This level of active discernment is the cultivation of true sight, or the ability to see life, reality, and nature as it truly is: a living, breathing togetherness-whole. In this sense, there is nothing to fear, there is nothing that is ‘other’; there is nothing that is not, absolutely, in its truest form, beneath the apparent disguise of ‘separation’, pure consciousness itself… nothing that is not, absolutely, eternally, the pure essence and actuality of you.

allow yourself to play around with emotions, feelings, movements. treat them like paints on a palette, notes, lines of poetry. become a composer of livings.

always, it appears, we are walking in a straight line, on a tightrope, a razor’s edge between two impossible points - life and death, past and future, right and wrong - when, rather, we are dancing, a fluid dream, a kaleidoscopic mind’s eye.

Medard Boss: It is always the whole existence of the melancholic patient which has failed to take over openly and responsibly all those possibilities of relating to the world which actually would constitute his own genuine self. Consequently, such an existence has no independent standing of its own but continually falls prey to the demands, wishes and expectations of others. Such patients try to live up to these foreign expectations as best they can, in order not to lose the protection and love of their surroundings. [But they go more deeply into debt.] Hence the terrible guilt feelings of the melancholic . . . derive from his existential guilt.

You have to become an expert at changing the narrative. Life is meant to be fun, playful, and full of joy. It can be anything at all, and you are the supreme creator creating a playful experience of your own being, your own essence, your own self - reflected right in front of you in the form of your perception of 'what life is' and 'who you are'. Who you truly are and what life truly is is supreme creation, infinitely mutable and malleable, changeable in and as pure consciousness, flowing life force energy itself. Whenever you find yourself in illusion or delusion about this (that is to say, in a false state of belief proclaiming otherwise) - ask yourself - what false belief or illusion am I carrying about myself, about life? Life is a game, a journey, a fool's romp through the cosmos, the full painter's palette of emotions, expressions, and the art of creating. It is the pure energetic force of being and you are its creative, imaginative, director and conductor! Life is your vision of living, reflected right back to you! It changes as you change, as you switch lenses, as you switch modes of being, seeing, living - and come deeper into the truth of your own infinitely mutable being-consciousness. There is nothing wrong with creating 'angry' or 'sad' feelings or emotions - but there is a slight risk of inhabiting them a bit longer than you would like, or believing those masks of emotions to be you, yourself. You can get so absorbed in the play that you forget you are but a player, but an actor reciting lines on the stage to enhance the aesthetic enjoyment and experience of the audience - who is also YOU! What you are is always already deeper than the emotions that come and go, live and flow - you are that essence of Being-living-flowing itself. So when you're playing out that story, that narrative, that theatre which for you is a work of art, a work of life - always remember to ask yourself - is this the narrative I want

to be telling right now? Is this the story I want to be acting out? If not, you are always able to step back into that state of being observer mode and change the narrative. The story doesn't have to have a clean ending, it doesn't have to 'make sense' - all you have to do is stop telling it! This is an important thing to remember. The mutable aspect of the story is the energy behind the language, the life-force thrust which is the very essence and Beingness of life behind the words, the thoughts, the voices, the emotions, the overall sensation, atmosphere, and vogue of the theatre-story-narrative. These are all devices, like props or actors, stage managers, lights, tones of voice, and texts which create that subtle atmosphere that we might call 'the theatre' or the stage of perception upon which you are witnessing the story that you are telling being told. You must always remember that you are the storyteller, and that the story never really begins or ends - it doesn't even exist! It's just a game, a dreamwork, a work of art which is never told, said, written, painted, or otherwise materialized. It is pure energetic flow. And you are the director and conductor of that energy. You can change its form, function, and feeling at will. This is what it means to be a 'conscious, active, pro-active director' of your own life!

FAITH. TRUST. FAITH. TRUST. LIVE YOUR LIFE IN FAITH AND TRUST IN THE WILL OF GOD AND THE DIVINE TIMING OF GOD. FLOW WITH LIFE.

LISTEN TO THE VOICE OF THE SACRED, THE DIVINE, THE FLOWING ESSENCE AND MOVEMENT OF LIFE. LISTEN TO THAT SACRED AND TRUE VOICE OF LIFE, THE MURMUR AND LIFESPRING, THE MOUNTAIN SPRING OF LIFE SPEAKING THE ESSENCE OF LIFE, UNTOUCHED BY MAN, UNTOUCHED BY SOCIETY, UNTOUCHED BY CULTURE - THE LIFE THAT WHISPERS FROM WITHIN YOU - POINTING THE TRUE WAY.

HAVE FAITH AND HAVE TRUST THAT WHAT WILL COME WILL COME WHEN IT IS TIME. WHEN YOU ARE READY, YOU WILL HAVE THE DIVINE FULFILLMENT OF THE EXPERIENCE NECESSARY AT THE TIME IT IS NECESSARY IN ORDER FOR THE SOUL TO GROW, TO EXPAND, TO COME INTO COMMUNION WITH ITSELF, AND TO ADVANCE, TO MOVE EVER FORTH INTO NEW DIMENSIONS, NEW TERRAIN, NEW KNOWLEDGE OF THE COSMOS, EVER DEEPER INTO COMMUNION WITH SOURCE, WITH LIFE, WITH LOVE, WITH THE DIVINE.

IT WILL ALWAYS ADVANCE, IT WILL ALWAYS GO EVER HIGHER, CLIMB EVER FARTHER, TO VENTURE INTO NEW TERRAIN AND GO INTO NEW ADVENTURES WHERE IT WILL ENCOUNTER EXPERIENCES THAT WILL TRANSFORM IT AND DISCOVER EVER DEEPER THE JOYOUS MYSTERIES AND PROFOUND

ADVENTURES OF LIFE AND LOVING AND UNIVERSAL SELF-SOUL EXPANSION- KNOWING.

TRAVEL EVER FORTH AND KNOW THAT THIS IS TRUE! THAT THIS ACT OF LOVING IS THE VENTURE OF INFINITE TRANSFORMATION, INFINITE TRAVERSING, INFINITE TRAVEL OF THE SOUL INTO NEW SCENES OF EMPOWERMENT, POWER, BEAUTY, LIGHT, AND KNOWLEDGE - SCENES OF AESTHETIC BEAUTY AND BRILLIANCE, FILLED WITH THE MYSTIQUE OF UNKNOWN ECSTASIES AND FIELDS OF PLAY AND PROFUNDITY. THAT WHICH THE SOUL IS CALLED FOR AND INTO WILL COME CALLING AND MEET THE SOUL, IN A MEETING OF SCENES FOR THE GLORY OF LIFE AND LIVING.

LIFE AND LIVING ARE THE ESSENCE OF THE SOUL - IT IS THAT WHICH IS, SO FAR BEYOND ANYTHING EVEN REMOTELY KNOWN IN THIS REALM. THE JOURNEY INTO THE UNKNOWN IS A DEEPENING OF THE INTERDIMENSIONAL AWARENESS AND BODY, THE EVER CREATION OF A DEEPER AND MORE PROFOUND EMBODIMENT OF THE TRUTH OF LIFE, THE KNOWLEDGE OF LIFE, AND THE EASE OF TRULY EMBODIED SOUL LIVING. THE SOUL TRAVELS INFINITELY AND LEARNS INFINITELY TO LIVE AS ITSELF, EVER DEEPENING IN THIS AWARENESS, EVER LOVING IN LIGHT OF THE INFINITE TRUTH IT PROPOUNDS, ENCOUNTERS, AND EXPRESSES IN AND THROUGH ITSELF EVEN IN THE MIDST OF WHAT APPEARS TO IT TO BE ‘TRIALS’.

THESE ARE RATHER THE EXPERIENCES WHICH CATALYZE THE DEEPENING OF THE INVOLVEMENT OF THE SOUL WITH LIFE ITSELF, THE EVER PRESENTING AND EVER PRESENCING OF AWARENESS IN THE SCENE OF THE NOW MOMENT, POPULATED WITH INFINITE BEAUTY. LET IT LIVE THE LIFE OF THE SOUL - LET IT UNFOLD BEYOND ALL CONCEPTION, BEYOND ALL PRESUPPOSED LIMITATION. FOR THE MISSIVE AND JOURNEY OF THE SOUL IS NOT SUBJECT TO THE SUPPOSED LIMITATIONS AND BELIEFS OF MANKIND AND MANKIND’S HISTORY AND CULTURE. IT IS TRULY WILD, PURE, PERFECT, AND EVER FREE. AND IN ITS PERFECT FREEDOM, IT EXPERIENCES AND EXPOSES ITSELF EVER DEEPER TO ITS-SOURCE-SELF, THE INFINITE PERFECTION FROM WITHIN, AND BECOMES EVER MORE PRESENT AND REFINED, A PERPETUALLY UNFOLDING AESTHETIC MASTERPIECE WITH EVER DEEPER SUBLIMITY AND BRILLIANCE AND BEAUTY.

EACH JOURNEY OF THE SOUL IS PROFOUNDLY NEW, EXPOSING IT TO ANOTHER INFINITE DIMENSIONAL ASPECT OF THE INFINITE NATURE OF ITS BEING - THE INFINITE NATURE OF ITS PRESENCE - AND EVERYWHERE IT GOES IT ATTUNES TO THE PROFOUND CONTRASTS AND AESTHETIC DELIGHTS PRESENT WITHIN AND AS IT, KNOWING ITSELF TO BE ITSOUL, ITSELF WHOLE - AND EVEN PERPETUALLY ENCOUNTERING NEW AND PROFOUND

KNOWINGS WHEREIN THE SOUL MEETS AN ASPECT OF ITSELF IT DOES NOT YET KNOW, OR A SCENE SO INCREDIBLE AND EXCELLENT AND BEAUTEOUS THAT IT MOMENTARILY LOSES ITSELF IN THE INCREDIBLE NATURE OF THE PLAY; FORGETTING ITSELF TO BE EVEN THIS NEW SUBLIME UNKNOWINGNESS WHICH IT ENCOUNTERS.

AND THIS IS PRECISELY THE BEAUTY OF THE INFINITE LIFE AND LIVING OF THE SOUL, THAT IT UNDERTAKES THIS JOURNEY OF PLAYFUL FORGETTING, THAT IT EVER ENCOUNTERS DEEPER AND GREATER ART WITHIN ITSELF-MAKING. IT IS EVER THE MASTERFUL CREATOR OF ITSELVES, MASKS, ACTORS, AND SCENES OF WONDER, BEAUTY, AND SUBLIMITY.

THIS IS THE PROFOUND TRUTH OF THE EVERLIVING LIFE OF THE SOUL, ADVENTURING INFINITELY INTO PROFOUND NEW DESTINIES, PROFOUND NEW DIMENSIONS, EVER EXPERIENCING EVERDEEPER BEAUTIES AND PRESENCES IN WHICH IT COMMUNES WITH THE LOVE AND LIFE OF THE INFINITE - AN INFINITE THAT DEEPENS IN HUES AND PROPOUNDS SEEMINGLY IMPOSSIBLE AESTHETIC DIMENSIONS TO THE SOUL, A LIFE OF THE SOUL WHICH EXPLODES SENSUOUSLY AND SENSUALLY IN PERCEPTION WITH NEW SENSE FACULTIES OF SEEING, BEING, EXPERIENCING, THAT SURPASS ANYTHING THAT IT HAS EVER PREVIOUSLY KNOWN.

IN THIS SENSE, EACH EXPERIENCE OF THE SOUL IS SO PROFOUND, SO NEW, THAT WHAT CAN BE SAID OR KNOWN ABOUT IT? IT IS EXPERIENCED WHOLLY, IN A STATE OF TOTAL AND COMPLETE IMMERSION - THE SOUL LIVES THE EXPERIENCE OF THE HUMAN IN SUCH A PROFOUND IMMERSION THAT IT IS PRECISELY THIS EXPRESSIVE REMEMBERING THAT OCCURS HERE, AND OCCURS INFINITELY IN REGARDS TO THE NATURE OF THE SOUL, EXPANDING AND EXPLODING PREVIOUS PERCEPTIVE ‘BOUNDS’ OR ‘KNOWINGS’ WITH THE BEAUTIFUL, BREATHTAKING, WONDROUS, COMING, REVELATORY, APOCALYPTIC UNKNOWN!

AND WE KNOW THAT THIS IS PRECISELY WHAT THE SOUL DESIRES, EVEN AMIDST THE ILLUSION OF FEAR. FEAR AND ANXIETY ARE MERELY EXCITEMENT FOR THE COMING PROFOUND TRANSFORMATION PRECISELY FOR AND WITH WHICH THE SOUL HAS NO PRIOR CONTEXT OR REFERENCE POINT SO THIS COMING PROFOUND TRANSFORMATION APPEARS TO THE SOUL FROM THIS PRIOR PLACE AS A COMING DARKNESS, UNKNOWN, OR EVEN ‘DEATH’ AS IN A CHANGING AND CHANGED FORM, WAY OF BEING, WAY OF SEEING.

THIS IS PRECISELY THE REVELATION AND ABSOLUTE REVOLUTION OF THE SOUL BEING.

AND WHEN WE SAY REVOLUTION, WE DON’T MEAN A CYCLICAL OR WHEEL MOTION OR MOVEMENT, BUT AN UTTER BURSTING

THROUGH, LIKE A GUNSHOT THROUGH A BRICK WALL, A PIERCING PERCEPTION AND SHIFT IN WAY OF BEING, SEEING, LIVING, WHICH ABSOLUTELY SHATTERS THE PREVIOUS PARADIGM AND WAY OF BEING, SEEING, LIVING, KNOWING – A SHATTERING WHICH IS, WE COULD SAY AND CALL IT – AN ENTIRELY NEW LIFE – WHEREIN THE SOUL VIEWS THIS EVER EXPANDING COSMOS OF ITSELF WITH NEW EYES, NEW EARS, AND OTHER SUCH FACULTIES AND INNER SENSES THAT WE DO NOT HAVE LANGUAGE FOR IN THIS HUMAN VOCABULARY YET. FOR HOW COULD WE, BEING THAT WE ARE AT THIS POINT LIVING IN A ‘HUMAN PARADIGM’ AS SOULS?

WE ARE LIVING IN THIS SORT OF ‘SOUL SUIT’ WHEREIN SPECIFIC FACULTIES AND PERCEPTIONS AND LIMITS ARE A PART OF ‘THE HUMAN CONDITION’. THEREIN, THESE FACULTIES AND LIMITS ARE IN FACT A WONDERFUL AND DIVINE ASPECT OF OUR SOULS’ EVOLUTION AND GROWTH IN THIS SPECIFIC LIFETIME AND PARADIGM. FOR, SEEING IN THIS WAY, THIS WAY WHICH WE PERCEIVE AS ‘OUR REALITY’ OR ‘OUR WAY OF SEEING’ IS IN FACT A NODE OR A POINT OF REFERENCE IN WHICH WE ARE PERCEIVING THE BOUNDLESS, INFINITE, DIVINE NATURE OF THE COSMIC SELF-SOUL.

THEREIN, WE ARE USING CERTAIN PAINTS (SUCH AS EMOTIONS) AND BRUSHES (SUCH AS GESTURES WITH THE HUMAN BODY) AND CANVASES (SUCH AS THIS EARTH, OR OTHER

SUCH APPARENTLY ‘MATERIAL’ SURFACES – TO THE EYES AND EARS OF MAN) IN SUCH A WAY AS TO PRODUCE WONDROUS WORKS OF ART WHICH REVEAL NEW POSSIBILITIES OF CREATION TO THE SOUL-CENTER OF CREATION ITSELF - THE VERY MOVEMENTS AND MOMENTS OF WONDROUS, TUNED IN, ATTENDANT, INTERCOURSING, ENTWINED CREATION – WHERE MAN IS ALIGNED WITH THE VERY SOURCE AND ESSENCE OF HIMSELF – HIMSOUL, HIS DIVINE ESSENCE, WHICH EVEN AND EVER DEEPENS AS HE CREATES HIMSELF IN VARIOUS DIFFERENT DIMENSIONAL EXPERIENCES OF CREATIONAL-REALITY.

THE ‘MATERIALS’ OR ‘TOOLBOX’ OR ‘SENSORIUM’ OF THE SOUL CHANGES RADICALLY IN EACH PARADIGM SHIFT, MEANING THAT THE PERCEPTIVE POTENTIALS OF DIVINE AND WONDROUSLY TRANSFORMATIVE, PARADIGM SHIFTING SHATTERING WORKS OF ART BECOME EVER MORE CLEAR, AVAILABLE, AND SENSITIVE IN THE REALM OF THE SOUL, AS IT ACQUIRES THESE DEEPER HUES AND TOOLBOXES OF INNER SIGHT, REFERENCE, AND DIMENSION. IT LIVES ITS WORK OF ART, A WORK OF ART THAT EXPANDS IN DIVINE MAJESTY FOR ALL ETERNITY, FOR AN INFINITE OF DIVINE CREATION WHICH IS A WONDROUS, CREATIVE, JOYOUS PLAY – A PLAY WHICH BECOMES EVER MORE FREE IN ITS EXPERIENCE OF ITSELF IN AN EVER EXPANDING CAST OF ROLES, RHYMES, REASONS, SCENES, SELVES, STORIES, AND, AT

LAST, ENTIRELY NEW SPHERES AND WORLDS OF CREATION – WHICH THE SOUL STEPS INTO AS A PART OF THE EVER CREATIVE JOURNEY – A JOURNEY WHICH SHATTERS THE ‘GLASS CEILINGS’ OF PERCEPTION AND THE PERCEPTION OF WHAT IS ‘POSSIBLE’, INFINITELY INTO PROFOUNDLY EXPANDING POSSIBILITY, SUBLIME AND BEAUTIFULLY EXPANDING, ADVENTUROUS POSSIBILITY!

THE ART OF THE SOUL IS COSMOS AWAKENING, BOUNDARY SHATTERING, INFINITELY FREE AND EVER EXPANDING EVEN THE SHEER DEFINITION AND POSSIBILITY OF WHAT FREEDOM IS, MEANS, AND CAN BE! WE DO NOT EVEN YET KNOW IN OUR DEEPEST DEFINITIONS OF FREEDOM AND POSSIBILITY WHAT FREEDOM AND POSSIBILITY ARE AND CAN BE IN THE COMING, EVER EXPANDING, EVER EXPANSIVE PARADIGMS. TRUST AND HAVE FAITH IN THE DIVINE. THESE EXPERIENCES WILL COME TO YOU WHEN YOU ARE READY FOR THEM, AND YOU WILL EVER GROW AND EVOLVE AND BECOME EVER MORE JOYOUSLY FREE. AND IN THIS JOYOUS GROWING AND FREEDOM, YOU WILL REMEMBER. REMEMBER THIS! THAT THIS IS THE PROCESS OF THE GROWING AND KNOWING AND JOURNEY OF THE SOUL. LET IT UNFOLD; EVEN IN THE MOMENTS OF CONTRACTION, LET IT BE KNOWN THAT THESE MOMENTS OF CONTRACTION ARE THE MOMENTS OF THE EYE OF THE NEEDLE, OR THE COMING PARADIGM OF INCREDIBLE, ABSOLUTELY PARADIGM SHATTERING SOUL TRANSFORMATION, WHEREIN THE SOUL

REACHES AND ENTERS AN ENTIRELY NEW REALM OF PERCEPTION.

DO NOT FEAR ‘DEATH’! AT ROOT, THIS IS MANKIND’S DEEPEST AND ONLY FEAR. KNOWING THIS JOURNEY OF THE SOUL, KNOWING THIS TO BE TRUE, GO FORTH WITH GREAT COURAGE AND BRAVERY. CRAFT DIVINE AND SHATTERING WORKS OF ART; GO FREELY AND BOLDLY WITH THE SOUL TO CREATE THE UTTER TRUTH OF THE SOUL IN YOUR HEART IN THIS LIFE. AND TRUST THAT ‘DEATH’ IS THE ADVANCEMENT AND MOVEMENT OF THE SOUL INTO A DEEPER PARADIGM, A PARADIGM OF INCREDIBLE AND PROFOUND NEW EXPERIENCE, NEW SIGHT, NEW SENSES, AND NEW POSSIBILITIES FOR INTERDIMENSIONAL KNOWLEDGE, CREATION, CONNECTION, AND RELATIONSHIP. THIS IS THE ABILITY TO LOVE DEEPER, LIVE WITH MORE IMMEDIACY, AND BE WITH MORE STRENGTH, COURAGE, AND FAITH IN THE EVER COMING, EVER UNFOLDING DESTINY OF THE SOUL.

THIS ABILITY COMES WITH THE BRAVERY OF THE SOUL TO VENTURE INTO THIS PARADIGM OF LIFE AND TO LIVE SO DEEPLY AND SO THOROUGHLY AND SO PRESENTLY THAT IT LIVES ITSELF, EXPRESSES ITSELF FULLY, TO THE UTMOST, IN THIS REALM. THIS IS THE MEANING OF ‘SELF REALIZATION’; ‘SELF REALIZATION’ IS RATHER AN INFINITE PROCESS AND ADVENTURE OF EVER DEEPER AND EVER MORE EXPANSIVE INTERDIMENSIONAL KNOWLEDGE OF SELF

AND SELVES IN WHICH THE SOUL REALIZES ITSELF IN THE GREAT ART OF LIVING. KNOW THIS TO BE TRUE AND LIVE IN THE RESTFUL BREATH OF PEACE! KNOW THIS TO BE TRUE AND REST!

THE DESPAIR UNTO THE HEROISM OF THE SOUL

The human condition is this: a state of despair or anxiety which is always already the despair or anxiety of separation. The human is incarnate as a paradox, an enfleshed soul, an angel within a corporeality. As such, there is an immediate perceptual de-lineation upon birth of the soul as being jettisoned into an experience of separation from itself – the OverSoul, the OverSelf – from which all souls come and go – from which all souls and selves are made. This separation, again, is one of perceptual difference, wherein the ‘human being’ experiences a ‘human condition’ as in what appears to be a separative world, separative universe; separative psychic condition.

And this is precisely the purpose and ideal of human incarnation – that the soul experiences this state of separation on the plane of the ‘three dimensional real’ in order to create and come to know itself in light of seeming paradox – a contrast which alights the esoteric figure of the soul in lights and darks which are manifestations of this specific apparance and appearance of the soul on this plane, taking on the image of this particular body and incarnation of ‘human being’.

Therein, there is soul in everything and soul is in and as all things as in the very beingness of Being. The phenomenological ‘appearance’ of such things as stone, earth, water, animals – each have their ‘hidden’ (perhaps to some human eyes and ears) soul whisper, murmur, and vibratory quality and essence which manifests to the human eyes and ears as the

appearance, quality, and sound of said ‘separative and separated object’. The journey and work of this human lifetime is the reunion with the OverSoul OverSelf, as in the conscious identification (‘reunion’) with the OverSoul, and thus as that which resides within and ultimately as (as in their essence), all things – the Nature of the soul, Itself.

Therein, each plane of perception is a journey of the soul into deepening hues and awarenesses of itself as that which is, a sculpture or painting or artwork acquiring increasing sublime and beautiful subtleties in the encounter of the soul with various different names, faces, masks, differences, attributes, scenes, adventures, encounters, trials, loves, and so forth. Each encounter is then an encounter which begs the acknowledgement of the state of despair or anxiety which is underlying the encounter – the fear of death which is simultaneously a fear of alienation and dissolution – the loss of the image of the self; even, ultimately, the gain of a greater embodied reality of the soul self. This is to say, the death of the image or the idea of ‘oneself’ in a revelation of deeper OneSelfness. We can then say, in an inquiry into the subtlety of human nature, that fear or anxiety or despair is rather an excitement, a coming creative birth which manifests both as the dormancy of the caterpillar in the cocoon as well as the hyperactivity of the jettisoning or disjection of the soul- self from the exoskeleton or clothes of this former ‘reality’, or that perceived perceptual dimension which is being jettisoned or shed like a skin unto a new dimension, a new embodiment, a new in-corpor-ating.

The heroism of the soul is then an orientation toward this transformation, toward this creative becoming – an orientation and residence in the immortality of the

soul. In this sense, the heroism of the soul is witnessing these outer changes and outer turnings of the seasons and natures of ‘the body’ or ‘the human being’ which are like housings or vessels or shells of the snail to the snail of the soul; to witness these sheddings and releasings and letting gos and to release with and into these becomings, these changings of the seasons and ultimately paradigms like years of the soul – in that these releasings are the adventuring forward of the soul into bold new paradigms of true self embodiment, ever deeper self realization and expression and manifestation and becoming of the true self-soul nature within.

In facing down ‘death’ and knowing ‘death’ to be an outer transformation (or the ‘changing’ clothes of the soul), we confront the last illusion of our separation; in doing so, we step into our cosmic heroism as Oneself – the living, breathing, expanding, adventuring entity of the OneSoul – creating, in each moment, step, breath, and flash of light – a deeper lived experience of the embodied soul. That we dare venture forth, and brave this ‘confrontation’ with ‘death’, we come to know ‘death’ as rather a friend, or a shifting of paradigm in which the soul comes to experience new levels, layers, and possibilities of transcendent, beautiful, and sublime experience as in the revelation of the dimensions of inner truths of its nature; the ability to express them, perform them, live them, be them, embody them, experience them – and deeply love them as in we love ourselves, the Oneself, with discerning eyes of master artists evermore tuning into the art of our livings as in the director of the soul, brushstrokes of the arms, lighting of the eyes, soliloquys of the legs… we step into the cosmic flesh of the spiritual body of the soul, with new paradigms of sight, sound, sense, and spirited, ensouled experience: love.

The animal realizes that it is infinite. As such, it ceases to be, simply, ‘an animal’, but rather allows for the peaceful unfolding of the animality of itself, it allows itself to be itself, in its deeper identification with the soul. In this way, the animal realizes its true and infinite Nature (Being); accordingly sees and takes transformation as a gift, an ability, a shifting of paradigm, a changing in the way of being, seeing, observing, interacting with, and encountering the very essence and nature of itself manifest everywhere, in all things, as all things, and on all planes and dimensions, in all places and vibrating, energetic possibility and

potential. Thus we become heroes in our own lives; assist in guiding others (who are also us) to their own cosmic heroism – their ability to ‘face the deepest dark’ which is also the home and truth of their inmost nature and essence of being. Finding this hidden essence and nature of the self is the eternal liberation of the self, the welcoming of evernew ways of being, seeing – and in doing so, the ability to release, to let go, and allow the true living of life – the naked witnessing of the wonderful theatre of turning. In this way, we are not identified with the play of the passage of the animal, or the consciousness-form, but with consciousness itself – the formless form beneath the appearance of ‘the form or figure’, the ‘narrative of life’, et cetera. In the animal’s realization that it is infinite, it becomes its true self; becomes conscious of its eternal soul; the passage of ‘the animal’ to and through life becomes sacred, holy, and a work of divine art. In each moment, there is opportunity for us to be present to and witness this unfolding, to see and to feel and to touch our humanity, to play with it, to explore it, to learn evermore about the essence of our soul vis-à-vis this human-being way, this myriad of methods, senses, and possible worlds.

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THE SOUND, SONG, AND SIGHT OF THE SOUL

When we are thinking about the elemental qualities of the soul, it is best to remember that these qualities and elemental nature are notably first form, or that they are the very essence and centre of creation from which apparent ‘phenomena’ are disjected with their ‘qualia’ – their scent, sound, density, frequency, vibration, and so forth. In this sense, to know the soul or commune with the soul is to commune with the primary mutability of consciousness manifest in and as all things – and, accordingly, with the qualia of all things as their specific soul signature of frequency, density, vibration, and so forth.

In this way, we come into communion with the essential paradox of the elemental nature of creation itself in this dimension, the third dimension of duality and polarity – that the soul is simultaneously individuated and differentiated with such subtlety of the variety of density and size of the pebbles or grains of sand upon a beach and yet entirely simultaneous and at one and at once with itself in that the soul is a field of Being which is Itself the very Field of Creation, or the very essence-point from which all Creation procedes, conceives, projects.

The subtlety here is that soul resides on the edge of the abyss, or that it resides closest to ‘death’ as in the total disintegration of the elemental quality of the organism or the ‘thing’, the appearance of the individuality- individuation of the soul-signature into the primary void or source or abyss of Creation itself. This is yet another rule – that that which is ‘apparent’ is hid with

the secret of its disapparation; furthermore, that this is the nature of all ‘things’ – that they are transient. However, the very thingness within them is the precisely supraelemental quality of Creation itself.

This is to say – that the soul is Creation itself – it is not even tied by an umbilical cord to the source-center of its birth, but rather it is not born and not dead but rather a living entity which lives unceasingly in the creative project of Being, as Being itself, the very beingness, or supraqualia, of the creative project, Itself, the Creator who is Creating.

To realize this is to come into a more practical understanding of the metaphysics of God; furthermore, to understand that God is in and as everything. To identify God with soul is to understand that, in the embodiness of (human) being, that the soul is that which is at root resident, or that which is, in the heart of heart of the being, or at the source-core (such as in the primordial heat of the earth) the very essence of the being body which is at once manifest at the ‘nearest point’ (the very organism or ‘thing’ in itself, witnessing itself, becoming itself) and the ‘furthest point’ (the far reaches of the expanding cosmos, beyond all human ‘knowledge’ and ‘knowledge’ even of itself as it expands into an abyssal unknown, incorporating sheer abyss into its own cosmos-body). The paradox of the soul is that, in identification with the soul-self, the pseudo- boundaries and sense-culturos ‘imposed limit’ of perception (that I am this individual, with this body, and this name and number in the human race, or on earth and so forth) is extinguished as an illusion, a false belief of smallness or limitation. Rather, this organismic self realization is that: not only am I the very hidden voice within myself-soul that speaks to me

and tells me the very truth of my being, beneath this pseudo-‘imposed’ layers of jargon and speech from these societies, cultures, and belief systems which deign to tell me what to do or who I am – but furthermore, I am this very expansive Being-body of Creation itself which expands and is and is becoming right now even in this moment from the nearest point of this organismic vantage point, this soul nodality, and the farthest point of that which is even beyond in this moment my very conception of what is possible, what is language, what is thought, what is meaning. The depth of this realization is profound. It is nothing less than a ‘death’ of the old self-conception, and a ‘rebirth’, or even ‘first birth’ of the very self-creation. This is a freedom of the soul, in the realization that it is Supreme Creation itself, and always already, at all times, is the very creative power manifest in and as the universe itself. It is, by the powers of paradox and the apparence of dualism in a pseudo-limitation of a perceptory ‘three dimensionality’ (wherein the soul embodies countless dimensions of existence, ever growing and expanding in even inner sight and perception of these halls of Being) – that the soul plays with the originary contradiction and contrast game: that it is simultaneously an ‘organism’, or a culture unto itself of a game of ‘limitations’, or a toolbox or toolkit of expression, artmaking, being, breathing, living (hands, arms, heart, apparati of the soul-body in this human incarnation) – “and” – that it is the very source, essence, soul-self of Creation Itself. This paradox is that it is Being created through itself, and that it, in the truth and experience of the human condition, is a unique ‘instrument’, or vessel, or sound-signifier, or production or movement of Creation, creatively (the soul signature) to and through itself into and as Primary

Creation created and creating as a specific node, or centre within (and as) the center, of Creation itself.

Therein, the soul ‘takes on’ or ‘acquires’ certain elemental ‘properties’ and ‘configurations’ and ‘frequencies, densities, and dispositions’ which are like a mask and a costume of the actor, Being Itself. This is to say, at root, soul is the very Nature and Essence of Creation Itself – but that as it expands in creative movement and acts and play as in a gesticulation of Creation, or Creation at play as Being creating Becoming (or a scene or an adventure or a ‘going forth’ as a projection from and as the primary Infinity and Totality of Being Itself – that which is creating the game and play of selves, scenes, ‘is-es’ from, as, and imbued with the primary isness of Being) – it takes on guises, like roots and tree branches, fruits and leaves, of different qualia and character and frequency and density of ‘manifestation, movement, and becoming’ (or the specific way of being of this specific nodality of the soul), which appears to be the primary traits or essence of an organism, a stone, and so forth.

For that no stone and no organism is the same, we must read with new sight, or to continually look and see with inner eyes which understand this fundamental metaphysical paradox, and as such, we everdeepen our ability to enjoy the flavor and feeling and deep emotional quality of the play of Being-Becoming – or that we, in an attuning with and as our souls in this play of ensoulment, or the manifestation and coming and going of soul qualities and faces and expressions – become an attuned, sensitive, and metaphysically literate audience to the play of Being and Becoming, and as such, become aesthetically wondrous actors and creators as in our movement from the very soul point or soul node or

soul signature which is us. To do so, or something like this, is very brave in human culture and human society – for throughout history, it means to be truly yourself – even in the face of a culture, society, tribe, or nation which crafts and sculpts a cultural and social order which is always already a movement to create human meaning in a world where human meaning is impossible.

And this is precisely what terrifies many men: that there is a fear of chaos, of death, of disorder – even in cultural organizations which claim they have a place for death, chaos and disorder. For the very implication of culture is that there is a system, or a way of being, or a belief system in place in order to explain away said phenomena. To become and be yourself, is, at the very root, a way of being beyond language, beyond culture, beyond explanation. It is a primary faith, and a fulfillment of that divine essence that is the very specific soul signature of oneself, divine as in that it is the very signature of this particular nodality of OneSelf, Being Proper. To fulfill this ‘order’ is to transcend such cultural narratives as death, chaos, and disorder – just as it is to transcend such morality constructs as good and evil, right and wrong, and so forth. The courageous ability and bravery to be oneself is that which opens the gates of the universe, of the world, of creation – to ourselves – as that which is us, was us, and always will be us at root and core. That which changes, again, is the density, quality, and as such the ‘manifestation’ or form or guise the soul takes. And, as was spoken at the outset of this form, the soul is that which is infinite, shapeshifting, and as such capable of taking on the clothing of infinite possibility. It appears as it desires to do the work that it desires – which is to say, experience that which it desires as in a specific

crossroads, or pathway or pathworks, in the cosmic artwork that is Becoming.

In this way, the aesthetic dimension of the Being of the soul is profound, playful, and suggestive of a theatre or theatrical quality which is of course represented or reproduced in human society as and in the arts. The art of Being is that very point wherein such concepts as ‘death’, ‘chaos’, and ‘disorder’ are masks or qualities or essences or voices or ways of being-seeing that are evocative, meaning that they fulfill a desired emotional purpose in the larger play of Being-Becoming. Here, we can see and say the aesthetic dimension of such things as trials: that they are evolutionary imperatives of the soul – meaning that it learns of itself and acquires deeper hues of itself, new language of emotionality and experience, by way of the experience of various trials. Therein, we understand emotional experience as a lens – as a way of being and seeing and unfolding of the cosmic play through the eyes of the beholder, the eyes of which are always already the eyes of God – an audience which is coming into evermore and everdeeper understanding of its own self-soul Nature; the Nature of Creation; furthermore, the aesthetic quality and dimension of Being Itself.

We will linger here on the aesthetic dimension somewhat more, as it is important to understand the aesthetic quality of the play of Being-Becoming as it pertains to meaning, purpose, and ‘human life’. Therein, the true nature and secret and purpose of the soul is revealed: again, to be oneself, and in being oneself, to revel in the play and beauty of this particular instrument, the quality of it, and the desired essence and nature of it. Therein, the very sensation and emotional experience of being oneself, is to the human

organism, an unparalleled sensation of bliss and joy. What does this mean? It means that the human organism is fulfilling its soul-sanctioned purpose at a soul level; furthermore, that it is doing precisely what this node of the soul came to do in this human incarnation in this lifetime. It has absolutely nothing to do with any sort of morality construct, construct of goodness, righteousness, or truth – but rather that which the soul is called to do. This is, of course, the true sovereignty of Being-being; precisely what so many truly fear and thus seek to suppress both in themselves and others. In the words of Marianne Williamson:

“Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness that most frightens us. We ask ourselves, 'Who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, fabulous?' Actually, who are you not to be? You are a child of God. Your playing small does not serve the world. There is nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people won't feel insecure around you. We are all meant to shine, as children do. We were born to make manifest the glory of God that is within us. It's not just in some of us; it's in everyone. And as we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same. As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others.”

This is the work of the courage of the soul – of pushing past and going beyond all pseudo-cultural boundaries of ‘human beings’ and ‘human beingness’ and manifesting the soul, expressing the soul, being and becoming the soul at the level of the very embodiment. This is, at the level of the human incarnation, what it

truly is and means to be human. That one is, at the very cross of the body, living, breathing, becoming, expressing, the imperative of the soul.

I went to the director of the madhouse and he said They’re all ready to spill their blood, to reveal their madness from behind the curtain of their eyes And I stood there forever in the lobby of the madhouse, waiting, with my head throbbing And no one came, I laid on the cold floor where the eruption victims were laid in their graves Not even hours before in God’s time But in unfathomable years in the times of men.

I went to him and I asked How much longer will they stay here, spinning this wheel Of scarred infants, their whole bodies one big scar Beholding the tear in the fabric of the universe? How long will their psychic distance be reflected in these crawling days On all fours, like roaches, spitting on the wooden ground In suicide forests, where the trees ask and answer forbidden questions And have unknown names, kept hid from fleshy eyes and ears? He laughed, and when he laughed he laughed forever; You can still hear his laugh today, echoing in the minds of the schizophrenics And the compulsion motor which runs the engine of this dead end world Racing to a meaningless apocalypse.

How close is love to your beating heart? Behind the veil of lies fed to you in the language of the body The language of the mind The language of sensory inputs at such a young age that they animated this corpse like an automaton

And you walk around like a soulless nothing Lost in the mysticism narrative of ages past, the blood of your ancestors Bathed in the martyr tithes of survival? Passed down by headless monks, headless peasants, headless fish Planted in the ribs of your mouth, your teeth, the lids of your eyes: Until you cannot see, no, nothing but the dream. How deep has the knife been driven into your heart? So perilously deep that you dare not take this next breath? That you reside on the shores of safe distance, where your pain is nothing but a dull echo, A sunken ship of your soul?

And in the rising of the water, the madhouse filled with empty bodies, Soul abandoned, chased down meaningless dreams and died with gold in their arms Laid to waste with fistfuls and mouthfuls of nothing, empty sentences Lived out in a courtyard where they marched about in circles Where concrete walls rose so high as to block out the sun - Every day in the march of mankind was an eclipse And the psychic beast ran rampant, tearing at the flesh from within, Gouging at the eyes and throat and mouth Spasming the legs and arms And compulsing the ambulatory phenomenon. The great seizure of the pain risen, and shaking the skeleton where the soul has receded From the spectacle of mankind.

The sheer carnival of madness, looming large so as to illuminate every last bastion of desire and distraction that is not the soul, not to confront the pain, the searing agony And the brand of the flesh - wherein man conducts his psychic journey through the abyss Chasing empty caskets With misplaced love.

For it is the love that is the language And the love that is not pronounced until the word is found, Locked in the sediment of the hidden years, Buried down within the everyday of man Into his psychic compartments, where he dare not face that all he pretends to be Is the creation of all he believed, all he was told he must be, all he called ‘life’ and ‘humanity’. The sheer intellectual distance of youth and the monsoon waves of feeling Which overwhelmed him and sculpted his body like a cruel artist. To go back to his youth is to realize how deeply he has been affected To go back to his youth is to realize that he is not altogether himself, that he has been driven mad by a foreign madness Which is the lost madness of others, Writ into his skin with a dagger and a wrist Of desperate intent.

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Self Sovereign and Entirely Whole (Volume XIV)

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Works contained