It's smoking under the old paint rags in the basement. It's making the combustables rattle in their glass containers alongside each other in the cabinets above the work bench. They want to get together. They want to mix it up.
At ringside and in the cheap seats, it looks like the real action is going to be in the crowd. There's the ozone smell of crackling electrical fires in the air. The gloves have come off and the knives and brass knuckles are catching the light.
You can hear the taunts, smell the spoiled wheat testosterone and the sour sweat of fear. Half of the man wants to lunge into his prehistoric race memory, half of him wants to hide behind the couch. Can he afford to back down with everyone watching? Rodney King has left the room. Rodney's done the smart thing by himself, he's gone to get a few drinks. He can't drive anywhere the way he feels right now. Rodney doesn't care if you all get along any more. And Dave? Dave's not here man.
It's been coming for awhile. Even I've had dreams of sticking a shiv into the soft flatulent underbelly of that outatown gin-soaked, Palm Beach GOP SWAT team of impotent blusterbots. I've wondered what it would feel like to gut me a few.
They stole my country. They stole your country. Well, it was never my country. I never had a country. As hard as I ever tried to play act myself into belonging, I never did. You might have though.
There's a kind of anger that comes like a long freight train, coming down a ten percent grade across the desert. It's been hauling a hundred and fifty cars of assorted injuries and non-specific insults to its quality of life. It's got a monster load of accrued resentments acquired week after week, month after month. They've been building and building, room is getting tight and the heat of close contact keeps increasing. It's keeping pace with the trains acceleration.
A whole lot of people are beginning to feel like the school bully has been sitting on their chest for a long time and relentlessly slapping them in the face, back and forth, back and forth; laughing and making jokes about their sister and their mother.
The shame! The looks from your classmates, how they snicker when you go by. They make jokes about how you believed all those lies, how you got scared every time you got told another story about towelheaded zombies sneaking into your bedroom window. They laughed at you. They stole your lunch money. You've been a punk and you know it.
You were taught to play nice. You were taught to talk nice and be respectful. It didn't count for much did it? When you gave your measured opinion; when you talked about all those things no one was interested in, when you were reasonable and studied so hard and submitted your reports and then the teacher laughed too and then the class laughed after. Nobody is interested in that shit. You should have known better. You're a punk. So what are you going to do... punk? All of you punks that don't understand about just taking something cause you want it.... what are you gonna do?
You're learning to hate everybody but yourself most of all. You're thinking you'd rather just kill somebody, maybe even kill yourself than to just go on like this. You're in a crowd of people who got slapped and fucked and mocked and pissed on and laughed at. And what did you do? You! What? You tried to play fair? ah hah hah hah ha!!! You really are a punk. Now you're all close together, pressing on each other, hot and stinking and no room. That can't be no kind of a life.
All this shit and it wasn't enough to provoke you? The shit kept getting more and more outrageous and you just tucked your head into your neck and Casper Milquetoasted your way to cubicle 36. Your wife is probably doing every tradesman in the area by now. God knows your kids hate you; the shame you brought on them.
And the worst part, the very, very worst part is that you know the guy who's been doing all of this to you is a bigger punk than you will every be. You know you could kick his ass, but some kind of inexplicable restraint just keeps you standing there. Is it good breeding? Is it some kind of conscience? Is it fear or just confusion; because you have this weird tick that keeps making you ask yourself if you even have the right to stand there and be confused.
Maybe you know and maybe you don't know that a whole lot of other people feel just like you do. You can't talk to them though. You don't know that much about their shame cause you've been too busy feeding your own.
I don't know if you got to go see Buford Pusser operate his stick again. I don't know if in lieu of any personal reservoir you got to go siphon a hero off of the screen and hope the transplant takes. But I know you got to do something and you know you got to do something and if you have to get angry and lose all that veneer of civilized good behavior and get together with all the other put upon punks until you are one howling mob screaming for blood marching forward or backwards; just as long as it brings you to wherever those porcine clowns that marched on Palm Beach are living, or headed, or holed up in... whatever it takes to head out and beat them into a shaking, pants fouled, Jello of submissive, cringing, un-masked, ass-kicked, former bully boys transmogrified into your previous self- and now occupying it...
...whatever it takes to get there and get that done, wherever these creatures, real or metaphorical are residing...you got to get it done. And you better get it done soon cause the time will come when you can't get it done at all.
14 April 2014
Visible is moving home April 15th 2014.
At the same time, all his blogs - including this one, will be relocating, too; this means that soon this page will disappear - as will all other pages on Vis' sites. The move (the blogs' move that is, not lord Visible's) is expected to take somewhere between 3 and 8 Earth days so should complete some time between 18 and 25 April 2014.
The blogs will remain accessible however, on their old blogspot.com URLS, and here is where you are going to find them - so please bookmark the following links!
Reflections in a Petri Dish
Please also be aware that although all the existing blogs' content will remain accessible, many image links and other bits and pieces may look a bit tatty for the duration of the move (not that anyone visits Vis blogs for pretty pictures anyway, but it's just polite to let you know)
Thank you for bearing with us during the move!
Saturday, August 21, 2004
It's smoking under the old paint rags in the basement. It's making the combustables rattle in their glass containers alongside each other in the cabinets above the work bench. They want to get together. They want to mix it up.
Beamed from the Saucer Pod By Visible at 14:28
Friday, August 20, 2004
Probably the biggest difficulty a physicist has in explaining his science to a layman is in dumbing down the content to make it understood. You can't really. It's possible to give someone an overall Reader's Digest grasp of principles but once you get to interplay and application you begin to lose them immediately. They have to know the magic to perform, otherwise they are just a mystified audience. For every science there is a Carl Sagan version.
You can't live an effective life according to Cliff Notes. You certainly can't understand it that way.
This why why you have things like religion. Religion isn't really necessary to interact with God, it's merely a vehicle where another kind of physicist can do the same thing mentioned above. In this case the physicists doesn't really know any more than the person he's explaining it to but he's got a greater grasp of the mechanism; if not the force that propells it. Like any organization it's not long before business becomes the driving force. Religion is like the lined paper they give you in elementary school when you learn to write.
However, once you have mastered the skill you don't need the lined paper any more. The priest class argues against this because it makes them redundant and affects business. Most people are content to stick with the lined paper, even though it goes contrary to the point of the exercise. That's the way people are. They like the idea that there is something watching over them but they're not all that sanguine about trusting it. It could prove to be as fickle as they are. They're just hedging their bets usually. It goes without saying that this means you are confusing God with something else and therefore never understood it in the first place.
A little knowledge is dangerous. I'd say mostly because it tends to be misleading sooner or later.
Politics is the human way of seeking to mirror the heavenly order in human affairs. The first principle of politics is gain, or benefit. There is the implication that some government is always better than no government at all; more lined paper. What can you gain from a system? Look at Law. Those who understand Law are in a position to gain the most from it. That would be the lawyers. Perhaps the second principle of politics is support. In this case you have to convince the people you are affecting that your ideas are the best ideas for them. You can tell them the truth or you can lie to them. Both are efficient. Lies are probably more efficient because the message can be tailored to be all things to all people. Basically you tell them what they want to hear and then you do what you like.
People can be roughly divided into two classes. There are those who work through lifes difficulties to improve themselves. The result of this is character. The second group works for personal gain without recourse to increasing clarity and without the impulse toward personal growth, unless you count external assets.
The second group manufactures blind spots to protect them from recogizing anything that interferes with their view. How things really are, or the greatest good for the greatest number of people, doesn't enter in to their equation. Character flaws are also veiled by this group or translated into a virtue, i.e. "If I don't do it someone else will." or "You got to get what you can for yourself, results are what matters." These are the 'ends justify the means' people.
The first group are more auto-correct. They observe a mistake in their operations and they adjust it because it's the right thing to do. This group is always looking for ways to do the right thing. They are not afraid to admit they are wrong. They seek to be objective about themselves.
All this is highly simplistic because of the space that would be required to address these issues in any greater detail.
But the point is, neither group is ever going to be able to convince the other group about religion, politics, or much of anything. Their values, their objectives, their hearts and minds are different. They play in the same sandbox but everything looks different.
Present over the heads of both groups is The Law upon which humanly applied law is imperfectly based. Neither group, nor the mechanisms created to order their existence, has any influence with the greater Law. This Law is impersonal. It prefers no one. It just is. But the wiser mind prefers it, inclines toward it. It may sense, but not completely understand, that this is to its everlasting benefit. It is.
The Law makes sure, over time, that it's precepts are carried out to the last measure of resolution. You've no hope of appeal against it. You can only hope you apprehend it well enough to improve your relationship to it.
One of my uncles used to say to me, when I was misbehaving and ignoring directives to stop that, "those who cannot hear must feel."
It's an ongoing presumption in the minds of those who hide from themselves that they are moving unobserved. They believe they can act with impunity, deceive at their leisure, acquire without restraint and impose their will upon all and sundry.
There is an old Sufi tale that goes thus.
A Master had three disciples and he gave each of them a chicken. He told them to go kill the chicken where no one could see them. They went off and two of them returned in a short time with a dead chicken. The remaining disciple did not reappear for hours. When he finally returned he had a live chicken in his grasp. The Master asked him what happened. The disciple replied, "I could not do it, everywhere I go the chicken sees."
It's said that we are our own worst enemy. If we consider that we are the witness to everything we say and do and that The Law is always present as an observor within us, it makes a great deal of sense.
Beamed from the Saucer Pod By Visible at 14:31
Thursday, August 19, 2004
Well, I shouldn't be entirely les visible. Here's one of my faces during a recent visit to the Haleakala Crater on Maui. There won't be any more visits to the homeland until the fascists are removed.
Beamed from the Saucer Pod By Visible at 13:38
Welcome to the greatest show on Earth. You're going to see trained animals do marvelous tricks. Magicians will astonish you with their ability to make things disappear. Contortionists will twist themselves into unbelievable shapes. Trapeze artists will make your breath catch as they defy death. Jugglers, clowns; did I say clowns? Boy will there be clowns. There will be food and games, laughter and suspense because The Circus is coming to New York.
But not just ANY circus. It's THE circus. It's a circus, it's a carnival and a sideshow like you've never seen, front and center, back and forth, in and out. The Republican Convention will be, "In The House!" And you won't have to worry about any 900 pound gorillas because we've got five and six ton elephants. We're welcoming all new arrivals to the shores of the shining city on the Hudson. People of any background, race, creed or color. You'll get a chance to see them too, walking right behind the elephants.
Seriously though, perhaps even grimly, let me share my thoughts of the last several weeks. First off 83% of New Yorkers do not want the convention in their city. The GOP has successfully avoided the city for 150 years. But the boys in the back want to bring the Sky Pilot in heroic return to the scene of his greatest oversight.
They want Mr. Mission Accomplished to walk out on stage like a Saturday Morning Serial, steely-eyed matinee screen idol, bobbing and weaving, weaving mostly, exuding heavyweight Clintness. Mr Babuck-Buck-Buck, elbows flapping at the sides, is going to do the Dance of the Wooden Soldier. Mr Pinocchio in Chief is going to work on his nose extention techniques- center stage in the Whore of Babylon's living room (sorry, couldn't resist).
Edgar Bergen will be there too, the avuncular old softy, dick cheney will bring his professional marionette skills to the Great White Way.
But New York doesn't want them.
And apparently there is no convention bounce on the economic end for New York. Word has it prospects are dismal; if you can believe what you read in the papers. But wait, isn't this in keeping with the general economic boom presided over by this administration during their time?
And New York doesn't want them.
I submit that it is altogether posible that the convention may turn out to be something other than they intend. I've been playing with all the features in my mind. Of course I've mentioned New York's resistance. I've mentioned the bad economic news. But then there are the massive protests scheduled and then there is the demand; the unspoken but certain demand, the 9000 pound gorilla in the room, the real Phantom of the Opera...; the need to explain and justify all of the things that have gone wrong and they are many. They are, to reference a collection of entities from their own area of influence, Legion.
You might say, "wait a minute. They've gilded the lily just fine so far." This is different. This is Showtime. This is when you ride the crest of your popularity... or when you have to effectively defend your actions and manifest a bold and compelling vision for the future. I don't think they can do it.
In 2000, Gore had a gorilla on his back. Gore's gorilla was oral sex. bush was a fresh-faced (to most) unknown. You can take an unknown and you can fancy it up to look like anything because, after all, it hasn't happened yet, but it might. Now we are on the back end of his works, indeed we are looking into the back end of it; it's progression to this point... and it is not a pretty sight, not if you're thinking about lunch.
And Gore still won in 2000.
Here and elsewhere in the news, bushbotulated posters and corporate media put a good face on it. They do all kinds of things with the polls- but even Fox News has it going bad for bush. The reality of the coming vote and the appearance given are remarkably different. The hand of destiny is reaching for the toilet handle. I can see it coming out of a cloud in that cosmic lavatory where such moments of fate are decided.
This circus won't be under a tent and it is going to rain. Clown makeup is going to run. Animals are going to look wretched. Puppets will get leaden and fungoidal. Trapeze artists will lose their grip. Magicians will lack speed. I couldn't be more pleased. I don't think we are looking at a "hot time in the old town tonight." Then again, you can read that two ways.
Now I know they've got a whole lot of stuffed bin ladens in one of the circus trailers. I know they've got this plan and that plan, everything from some recovered memory boy in a long ago Boy Scout troop who says Kerry touched him, to a detailed plan for suspending the elections and imposing martial law. But things just keep unraveling.
Now they've caught a none-to-Swift Boat Bronze Medal winner in an outright lie about whether there was gunfire at the Rassman rescue. Even their worst and nastiest efforts (techniques that always paid off in the past) are turning against them. Sure, you are going to be stuck with cleaning up their horrific mess but-
...for the first time, I think there is a chance, despite every ugly act and lie, they may get the old heave ho. And would that be nice.
Mind, as I look at the entire blueprint from afar, I still am of half a mind (grin) that 'by hook or by crook' works. Because I think The Divine might just feel this culture needs its face rubbed into it. They just might need the worst lesson of all. But-
...for the first time, I believe the human race might shoot the rapids and bring home the gold. It would be a wonderful thing. As it stands bushligula and The Centurions have lost. It's in black and white with tint deepening every day. It's a given at this point. The only thing that stands in the way are the operations in waiting. You can get away with a lot of shit if you are in charge. History has shown this. I'm rooting for the good guys. I want the circus run out of town. I hope I'm right.
And New York doesn't want them.
Beamed from the Saucer Pod By Visible at 12:02
Wednesday, August 18, 2004
If I'm selling you a used car I'm going to point out all of the advantageous features of my 'good as new' vehicle. I'll tell you about gas mileage and how it was maintained; the little old lady who sat in it while she was thinking about driving to the store. I'll point out the reputation of the model in terms of longevity and resale value, even though you are already buying it from someone else. I've been known to lie.
If I'm selling you a house I'm going to tell you things that will not be the same things you will hear from the man you hire to come in and check out all the hidden areas. He's in a different business than I am. I've been known to lie too.
It's like having two psychiatrists at an 'excitable boy' murder trial. "I found the murdering scum to be as sane as any of us." compared to, "This young man was driven to these acts by an unfeeling society which he felt compelled to bring to a deeper understanding of the wounded bird in all of us. My client deserves a job in social engineering, not a death sentence."
If I'm a six year old and I break a lamp, the chances are the dog did it, my playmate knocked it over or, "I don't know."
We don't have absolute proof that you can't catch Herpes from a toilet seat and we've had ample proof in this life of your lying eyes.
It seems that in the progression of this particular stretch of History, circa 4000-something B.C. that we have refined a lot of things. We've certainly upgraded tools, weapons and underarm deoderants. We haven't found anything to take the stink out certain acts but you do have a remote. But one refinement that addresses that issue and has been overlooked is that of stupidity. We have refined stupidity to a point that it has learned how to argue against recognizing conditions right in front of the observers nose.
Once there was a fairly wide acceptance of the difference between right and wrong. Oh sure, much wrong still got accomplished and justified by people and nations as a necessity of doing business. But you suspect they knew it was wrong. Back then doing wrong was more about eminent domain. If you didn't catch me before i got control of it I had already morphed into landowner or patriot. Then you were forced to use the accepted channels of redress and for that there are always lawyers. Of course, you could just do what I did...and that went on too.
But now it isn't a matter of right or wrong anymore. It's a matter of how often it gets repeated. It's a matter of drumming the mind into surrender.
Today you can say anything and be confident that someone is going to believe it. If you have the mechanisms in place for wide disemination you can count on a good 30% across the board and you can probably strongarm the rest of what you need.
The key appears to be controlling information. The guy on the street corner screaming in outrage is not going to reach the audience that a television station does. It's a simple thing.
Someone recently led me to believe that a particular morally bankrupt writer, a known shill for the worst inclinations in all of us, was more legitimate than I because he had a connection with a prestigious university. Well, it wasn't a stretch for me to see then that if name recognition and connections are an indication of greater worth and veracity; game show hosts, billionaires and advertising mavens are to be considered a more viable source for what is real that lumpen proles like ourselves. It appears that fame and it's attendent power is all the proof we need as to the value of the work. This is a clear indication that limbaugh is not only brighter than Chomsky, he's also better.
It also means we should probably just give up and bend over, sooner or later you'll inherit the Earth; most likely after everyone else is through with it.
I'm really only left with one question about it all. I haven't been able to convince myself whether those lying for their own ends and those lying for the liars and those believing and repeating the lies... I haven't been able to determine if they clearly know they are lying or whether they just spend all their time convincing themselves that the lies are true. But would you have to convince yourself? I also can't decide if the people who believe the lies are really as stupid as they appear or whether they need to protect themselves against the result of real truth showing up and messing with their plans. Now here I become more confused because I know you can't protect yourself against that. You can't avoid it either. It's often slow coming but come it does.
But do you think any of these people ever stop for a moment and ask themselves, "Hmmm, what if I'm wrong?" Do you wonder at their capacity to digest enormous lies; lies that are proven to be lies right in front of their noses and yet remain invisible?
There's got to be some kind of attrition that accompanies this. I wonder if they know what that is?
Beamed from the Saucer Pod By Visible at 15:12
Monday, August 16, 2004
Gray skies moving in again. It always seems that there come these few days in August that herald the Fall. Then it forgets itself and goes back to the business of Summer for awhile. But you know you've been warned. Something's passing again. It seems like that's what we have; things passing. They just come and go and we live in it.
Since my mind is clearer than it has been for awhile, I start to notice how my weather works. Most of the time for most of us, moving through a constant recycling of events, it's hard to get up on the hillside and watch the scurry apart from it. If we can, it often comes as a surprise, what we were doing, how we kept repeating ourselves, as if we thought doing the same thing would somehow turn out different this time.
As many ways as I have tried to get a handle on it, it always brings me back to the same place. I can only go so far with the tools I have. My tools are sufficient to see me through the day to day but never enough to lift me out of who I am. The past doesn't seem to taste all that good unless we change the way it happened in our minds. The same way we like to make ourselves look better on the wrong end of an argument. But everybody loses no matter who seems to win.
Life always comes back to loss. And I'm thinking that maybe losing is a beautiful thing. It could be that losing beautifully, with the kind of grace that hides itself in the process, is the highest art form of all. You wouldn't lack for material. You'd never run out of inspiration.
Your parents move and you have to go with them. Things happen to them and you are in no position to help. You're just there to be affected by it. It has something to do with preparing yourself for a lifetime of loss. Your parents break up, your parents die. Your dog dies, your girlfriend breaks up with you. You betray your friends, they betray you. All these things break your mortal heart and you keep coming back for more. Meanwhile you get harder and older and more complicated. The game structure requires it.
You keep needing more. Maybe the wanting validates you. I am what I want. And the flame hollows you out from inside. You wanted this, now you don't want it anymore, now you want that; let's face it, you don't know what you want. You just want something. It could be that the thing we want isn't to be had in the ordinary process of what's available. And it might be that this is the point. It might be that the moment you accept the fact that you will lose everything, in that moment you win.
You could work on not wanting anything but the hunger comes and it wants something, anything, something...you have to feed it. It will harrass you, try to scare you ...it can bug you and torment you...
...but, if every time the hunger came, this often undefined hunger that grabs the closest repeated pattern ...if you took that hunger and gave it the picture of something you really did want, something that would make it possible to enjoy the other things you do, must do, the simple acts of life... maybe everything would change because of it.
It could be said that we want freedom more than anything. This freedom is a freedom of being. It is the real freedom that all the definitions of freedom are based on; living in a free society, the freedom to move about, to have choices, to participate in the selection of your leaders, to express your religious convictions.
This freedom only comes when you hunger for the one thing within that is always free. Some call it God, some call it Truth or Self-Realization. But the only freedom from hunger comes when you narrow that hunger to the thing that frees you from all the hungers you have created to mask your need of the one thing that terrifies you the most;...real freedom. If you took all your hunger and reminded yourself of what you were really hungry for every time you felt it, it would come quickly. The eternal magnetisms of life demand and insure it.
The whole game of life is based on breaking you down to the point where you can accept the truth. If you can't win any way, why not lose beautifully? ...And win the very thing you have been denied in all of the false blinds you were deceived by.
All of the grief, all the tears, all the fear and the shouting and whining and arguing, the resentment and confusion, have done nothing to improve your lot. They have simply contributed to the greater store of themselves which gets you repeating them.
Once you are prepared to lose everything you become free. Once you know that nothing you can do will keep you here or maintain a single thing that you love, you have eternity in your grasp. It's so foreign. It sounds too simple. It smacks of defeat. It yawns like a horrible mouth of darkness; the unknown. I suppose it comes back to the simple faith of children. After all, you're not better off now are you?
Trust broken all down the line, on both sides of it...makes for a hard accepting. But really, where did you put your trust? In every situation, something more than ourselves is watching, even reading these words. Understanding... /huge peal of thunder just now, made me jump...funny. Funny I can say these things and then start at the thunder.
Beamed from the Saucer Pod By Visible at 13:34
Friday, August 13, 2004
There is this mindset that assumes, usually in the process of an attack on principles or procedure, that one cannot be spiritual and tell you to go fuck yourself; one cannot be spiritual and sexually alive; one cannot be spiritual and run your ass out the door; one cannot be spiritual and clean your clock for telling the wrong time at the wrong time and making everybody late for the fun they should have been having if you hadn't come along.
Somewhere someone got the idea that spiritual is St. Francis standing in the forest surrounded by critters with bleeding palms outstretched in a selfless embrace of all that is evil and good. May be that is a location, a station- of the cross or some star zone on the cosmic radio dial. It could be.
These same people believe that Heaven is up in the sky. Well, the sky begins where it touches the Earth. Some people believe that you 'go to' Heaven. I submit that if you don't get there while you are here you won't be going there later. You are where you are. Heaven is a state of mind.
There is an old saying that the devil cannot abide ridicule. There's also a tale about an enlightened monk to whom Christ was supposed to have appeared. The monk was mucking out some stables at the time. He told Christ to beat it or he would fill his mouth with shit. You see, there is no external Jesus, not any more. In Zen they say, "if you see the buddha on the road, cut him down.' I'll leave you to figure that out.
Bad shit has been the order of the day here since Cain rearranged the back end of Abel's head. Lies entered into the world in the Garden of Eden so they say. Think about this in connection with your having to wear clothes. What are clothes? Yeah, I know, it gets cold and there are thorns in the pasture, that's not the point.
But bad shit has been flowing out of the pipe of poisoned inspirations into the manifest for a long time. It flows onto the pages here daily. There are people here who will accept the truth even if it goes counter to their ambitions and what they may have believed before. And there are people here who will lie and know they are lying and not give a shit. There are people here who lie because they are too samskara-wrapped to know the truth.
The thing is, the truth is central to everything. Lies are like the shadows that appear outside the perimeter of its light. The further out you go the darker it gets and that is its own reward. But, as in the tale of The Prodigal Son the path leads ever back; though it span the lengths of many lifetimes. You can throw in Ariadne's thread or any of the esoteric compassing tools the universe has provided in allegory and otherwise hidden in the treasure chest of your own sub-conscious.
Lies can't hurt you if you are true. Lies can provide a temporary advance. They can make you rich, get you laid. They can kill and maim- but only if you're headed that way. Lies can hurt you if you mistake one for the truth.
But the truth doesn't need a defense; a champion, a vendor or a loan agency. The truth is composed of its own ineffable substance and shines courtesy of its own light. It is self generating and perpetuating and it goes by other names. Here in the shouting crowd of apologists for big time liars, in the defense of small time lies, only truth can claim a victory. For the materialists who see no world beyond the one they imagine they are standing in, lies are enough. But lies won't pay the boatman. And lies will bind you here and elsewhere. Like Lao Tzu said, "those who miss after almost winning, should have known the end from the beginning."
I don't give two shits about bush and his empire of lies. He's just another passing face in a long parade of liars. And neither he nor his armies impress me. I believe that, "greater is that that is within you than that which is in the world." Now, it's true we see through a glass darkly. I've my small garden of lies to attend to, rather a task of weeding than fertilization I hope.
But just as the Devil can quote scripture so are all of the world's institutions, storefronts for lies. And no matter how much it is discounted it's still not a bargain.
Yes, there's a road for the humble monk, unwilling to give offense, embracing every whip as a taste of the loving lash of God. I respect that. But there's also the road of warriors whose job is to fill the Devils mouth with shit; as if there weren't enough there already.
There are divine comedians whose job is to inflate the incongruities until the hot air expells into public laughter. There are accountants without agenda other than balance and pure artists whose magnificent creations point to the elegance of the unseen. History remembers the places where the power of light pushed back the shadows to reveal another portion of The Kingdom. It also admonishes us with examples of those whose webs manfested an awful darkness. All the examples anyone could ever need are there to be seen.
Spirituality doesn't make you a doormat. There are some fine writers here who never take a stand. They're a canny lot. They have perfected the art of high-toned rhetoric without offense.
They're above The Fray. Monkeys scream from the trees and throw shit down on the passersby. The jungle eats itself alive. I don't know if these savvy toreadors sans sword do much good in the mix. I'm not sure civility is the highest good. I'm not sure these dancers believe in anything enough to risk their laundered persona's; monkey shit being what it is.
Sometimes the best spirituality comes home with its clothes torn and its nose bent; a victor none the less. Give me beaten but unbowed any day of the week. I'd rather know where I stand and why, than to be thought endlessly agreeable and boring as Hell.
We're all a contradiction and remain so for as long as we move in a world of shadows and light. And in that respect we are all subject to misinterpretation and lies. You'd know better than I what you're satisfied with. You can build the house but you're gonna have to live in it.
Beamed from the Saucer Pod By Visible at 22:06
Thursday, August 12, 2004
(note- I post at a forum at slate.com called The Best of The Fray...it is to that location that certain references are sometimes made in my pieces; by way of explantion)
This afternoon I saw 'Cold Mountain'. I'd expected it to be good. It was much better. The acting and casting were superb. The direction was a work of genius. Yes, there were the few trite sops to that section of the public for whom such things are important, but it was uniformly brilliant. During certain moments it became the best film I've ever seen. It should have been Oscars all round. Go figure. This post isn't about the movie though. It's about the things the movie brings home and how it relates to the life we live.
I don't read about the Civil War. I'm not intrigued by the strategies and heroic's. I've a friend who is very knowledgeable on the subject and sometimes he tells me tales. Ironically, this friend was writing a book composed of fictional Civil War letters from a young man to his intended. This was a few years before Frazer's book came out. I read some of it. My friend is a good writer. He didn't finish the book though. That is a problem he has.
The Civil War was a horrible, stupid event created to feed the fires of violent fantasy in the minds of fools. It was a bloody, ugly mess and no amount of heroes and vicarious thrills will ever justify the raw stupidity, greed and arrogance that brought it about. The movie brought that home to me far more eloquently than any war film I have ever seen. And don't tell me it was about slavery.
Most wars are like this. On the surface they are about 76 trombones and eager-eyed young men looking for glory; young, dumb and full of cum. This isn't to say war is always avoidable. Hitler had to be stopped. Even though he was financed by the grandfather of the current president as well as others, including the banking firms of The Warburg's and Rothchild's; both Jewish families. The tragic irony of the truth behind the hype can bring a mean dispair about the human condition.
The Vietnam War was another stupid, un-necessary conflict. The proof that it was un-necessary lies in the fact that we lost that war and it didn't make any difference in the aftermath except to the survivors and those who lost someone.
Today another evil, un-necessary war is being fought for no other reason that that this country did not heed the warning given in the 70's and 80's about oil. The gas lines meant nothing because it's not our nature to learn about these kinds of things. We don't give a shit. We don't fund research. We don't conserve. We are, in large part, assholes. Men, women and children die now, because we are assholes.
Saddam was a postcard, nothing more. It wasn't WMD's that got Saddam in trouble, it was thinking about converting to the Euro. The real facts of the case have no connection to the excuses given. Men, women and children are dying because we are a fat, indifferent nation who wants our material comforts...and WE WANT IT NOW!
Lately we see this carpetbagging of Ballot Boxers and other deep thinkers to the shores of BOTF. Hardly a post is made that is not intended to outrage. A large portion of these posts are no more than trolling. It's unfortunate that anyone even answers them. Some of us are so reasonable or outraged, we can't let it pass. We have to defend and explain. There is nothing you can explain. You're not dealing with anything human. Peel away the human visage and there's a snarling beast. The beast is either a lumbering, stupid luddite who deserves the fortune to which he is headed, or it's something with the cunning of the hyena and the jackel; a beast nonetheless.
Tanks roll through a foreign land blasting Led Zepplin from the speakers. Bullet-headed cretins imagine themselves squatting among the bodies with a cigar in their mouth and proclaiming some version of "I love the smell of Napalm in the morning. It smells like victory."
Every thought, every word, .....affects the whole world. Those of you who celebrate in your safety; who makes jokes about the awful loss and pain among those defending their land, who smirk and preen and toss off the flatulent bon mot...your day is coming. Every thought, every word, every deed is recorded. They reverberate through the whole world. You murder everyday in the name of stupidity, greed and indifference for reasons you don't even comprehend.
You think it only fair that a psychopath is empowered to replace a psychopath we removed. You rationalize that it is the Iraqi will, implemented by the Iraqi Council representing the desires of the Iraqi people. The Iraqi's didn't orchestrate this, you did. Now they have put this holy city of the Muslims to flame. How is it that the cardinal lesson of martyrs is never learned? How is it that you do not understand that from every drop of blood another soldier rises to avenge them. Sadr understands this. And whether you or I consider them martyrs is immaterial. They consider them martyrs.
Look closely and you can see that the intention is just to provoke the people beyond restraint so that they can massacre them entire. Those who remain will be those whose genetics include the shuffling tread and the bowed head.
You're going to reap the whirlwind America and you fucking well deserve it. It may not come tomorrow and it may not come next year...but it's coming. Every thought, every word, every deed.
Beamed from the Saucer Pod By Visible at 22:44
Tuesday, August 10, 2004
or a 'crapshot' as certain street side philosophers have claimed. It's 'a bitch and then you die' and it's a numbers game too. It's a dream, a drag and a personal fantasy on it's way to a meeting with the screen behind the movie.
I believe it's an assembled stage, constantly erected and taken down for the purpose of lessons to be learned. These lessons are individual and group experienced. The passengers in a car and an airplane racing toward collision share a certain stage the same way nations do.
It's definitely a game though. It's a combination of Monopoly, Risk, Chicken and Chess with elements of Go. It seems to end the same way every time because when the tables are turned the same people appear to be sitting there. Maybe the people are different but the roles are the same. The person playing the role of Trump probably changes but the role of major league asshole doesn't vary and so it always appears to be Trump, or Murdoch, or Ailes, or Rees-Mogg, no matter who it is. The person playing the role can change, the role remains the same.
If there is a 'force', then it is possible that 'the force' may be 'with you'. It's quite possible that there are a variety of forces that may 'be with you', or against you. These forces theoretically meet up the way weather fronts do. One over powers the other or one assimilates the other and they both become something different. The single force that is the source of all nascent forces does not have an agenda that benefits anyone except as it relates to your being here in order to comprehend it. It's not concerned with your going to college, getting rich, or surviving as an individual. Especially when your existence as an individual is a limitation upon and an aberation of- the essence of the thing itself.
My take is that the origin and destination are the same, with only experience and comprehension added.
The actual rules of the game are not made public. The publically released rules only contain some of the information. Let's say you wanted to understand how America came to invade Iraq. The information released would be quite different from the actual reasons. Switching from the dollar to the Euro by particular oil trading countries would never be mentioned.
There would be a lot of public sputtering and grandstanding about saddam's and bin laden's and Islamic threats but these would have nothing to do with reality. However, what is real is known to the major players in all of the global locations. And this is where your rising oil prices come in.
Everybody in the world doesn't want to be controlled by the US or whomever would replace them. On the surface of the game board, or on the video screen, you would watch the pieces move...but the action would be going on somewhere else. And what you see happening would not explain the greater intention.
Events in Iraq might have a great deal more to do with situations in Russia than they do Iraq (this hypothetical is not designed to lead or point to anything real). Something done in Belgium may cause an explosion in Cairo. How do you know what's going on? You don't.
bush and his people are doing what people like that have always done. They want to control the world and they want to benefit a small group of people as much as is possible. This is obvious and clear to be seen. Is that a bad thing? It is if you are not in the target group. All governments are corrupt because they are all sausage makers. Most people are corrupt because they are always looking out for what might profit them personally. Is this wrong? It is if you are on the losing end of any of these efforts. It's wrong as far as you are concerned.
This is where you get crusaders and social reformers. These types can prove as bad as the people they seek to replace. Systems like Communism and Socialism seek to redress inequities in society. Unfortunately the same small group still sitting when the tables are turned are the usual beneficiaries.
So, what you've got is a video game and not paying attention can be fatal. You might work to increase your holdings or you might be devoted to the greater ambiance of all life. You might do both at different times. They say some people have all the luck. You can see that circumstance certainly seems to benefits some more.
To believe anything you are told by your government or your media is to believe a lie. Some lies are more beneficial to the whole than others. bush is definitely a monster and no good for the whole of life. Kerry is certainly less so but he will have to felate the same dungeon masters. He's been practicing though, so no problem there.
What's it all come down to? It's like sex with the Black Widow spider. You know you want to fuck her and you should know that she will eat you when you're done. Smart suitors wrap her legs with webbing prior to. This gives them getaway time. More importunate, less intelligent spiders may forget in the heat of passion.
We've all got our priorities. I know for a fact that mine are quite different than most. It doesn't make me right and you wrong. In this game we can all satisfy our needs as long as we pay the price. The real question would be; "Is it worth it?"
Do you like what you do? Do you like where you are? Do you know what you want? Will you change what doesn't suit you or what?
If you haven't learned how to play this game yet then you need to look at how it works and forget about things like 'fairness', 'honesty' and any virtue you expect to experience from Outside. These things may benefit you as a person on the long road but they are a currency best kept under your shirt. Always negotiate from a position of strength. This is best achieved by not wanting it. As long as you can walk away you can walk away a winner. One of my favorite quotes is, "Be ye wise as serpents and harmless as doves."
Have fun with the joystick...but watch your credits level and don't let your health run down.
Beamed from the Saucer Pod By Visible at 20:52
Saturday, August 07, 2004
When I was a kid I lived and breathed Baseball. I would play it from the time the sun went up until it went down. In some ways I was lucky to have been born into a military family and grown up on Army bases. There were always kids to play with.
I was a pitcher and a good one. I dreamed of playing in the major leagues but the circumstances of my life did not permit it. I did continue to play. For awhile a group of us used to travel around rural Virgina and play black teams. I was in my 30's then. Those are some fine memories.
I learned to live vicariously through major league pitchers. One of them was Steve Carlton but there were others. I always picked the teams I rooted for based on the pitcher I loved most. So it was that I was once a Cubs fan, then a Braves fan and now a Cubs fan again- because of Greg Maddux. In an age of arrogance and over-powering celebrity, Greg stands out as a pure ideal of a vanished age. That man can pitch. He's the smartest pitcher I ever saw. I love the man.
Tomorow he's going against the Giants for his 300th win. His last effort ended in a no decision. He tired early and went into the clubhouse. He'll be on the mound again tomorrow. I'm hoping he has a shining moment.
I've got a few heroes and depending on what arena they perform in I expect different things of them. Greg has never let me down. He's one of the class acts of all time. You can sense his love of the game, his quiet competitiveness and concentration are always present. He has a dignity about him that is as rare as an unassisted triple play. I can't say enough good about the man and I don't want to try to say too much. His life and his work speak far more eloquently than I can.
Thank you Gregg Maddux for living my dream in the way I wished that I could have and certainly better than I would have.
There have been faster and flashier pitchers. There may have been better pitchers. I don't know if there have been smarter pitchers, but I do know that there have been no pitchers who have ever been better human beings in the process of their work.
One more time, Greg Maddux, thank you very, very much.
Beamed from the Saucer Pod By Visible at 00:31
Friday, August 06, 2004
They say that in the days of Lemuria and Atlantis, technology had reached a very high point. There was, for instance, The Lemurian Sun Disk and a variety of other mechanisms. There still remain evidences of former constructions in South America and elsewhere, built so precisely, that we can't duplicate them today. Somebody was around before this recent viral outbreak of appetites. What happened remains a mystery for the mainstream but there is plenty of occult lore that tells the tale.
I noted in the news today that some airhead has reported that Ireland is, in fact, the Atlantis that Plato wrote about. Never mind that the existence of Atlantis predates Plato by thousands of years.
According to those reviewing the Akashic Records and/or privy to informations held sub rosa (I won't be dealing with Lemuria here- I only bring up Atlantis because it relates to my point), Atlantis had discovered the secrets of electro-magenetism along with other energy sources. It's said that the people of Atlantis did not develop spiritually and morally in concert with their discovery of these powerful forces and that their basic human limitations fully in evidence today destroyed them). Think of that Micky Mouse clip- The Sorcerer's Apprentice from Fantasia, for an example.
I have tried to spend as little time in contemporary American culture as possible. Malls make me uneasy and, there's not much else is there? You find restaurants and bars and shops and offices in most American towns and cities but they're the same thing as a mall, just less centralized. There are people now who plan their Summer vacation routes to take them to specific malls. Sometimes the mall is the objective. Thousands have moved just to live near certain malls.
The culture's about shopping and consuming. The driving forces of science seem to be about making the two of them easier. Medically it seems to be about removing the pains caused by excesses of consumption. The entire culture seems to be engaged in making trivial pursuits more easily available, more exotic and enclosed in more rapid delivery systems. I've thought that the icon of contemporary America is a pudgy teenage girl on a cellphone.
Should this culture be allowed to survive? I ask this in a cosmic sense. Las Vegas and Disneyland are the spiritual centers of America. Processed food is the diet. Pain pills, TV and alcohol are the controllers. Impossible dreams are the currency. What is the purpose of this? What is the point? Is the point to just keep doing it? Is the point to strive to find new ways to enhance it? If what you see is what you get then this is so.
Let's keep it simple. You move toward a denser confinement or you move toward a more open freedom. You proceed into matter via the constant exercise of appetites or you go the other way by focusing the mind on your higher nature. The physical landscape of the manifest world is the battleground wherein you are tested and make your choices. That seems evident on the face of it. This is only for those who believe there is an 'instructing', guiding consciousness. So, in what direction is this culture moving?
Do you feel uneasy, just a tad, when you see sometimes how close to biblical prophecies this world appears? Do you wonder about that stink in Las Vegas that they can't locate, can't fix? Do you recall the exhortations about how wide the highway is that leads to destruction and little teasers like 'generation of vipers' and 'where there is no vision the people perish?' Hmmmm.
I suspect (actually believe- quite frankly) that the stage has been washed clean on many an occasion before. I truly believe that invisible intelligences hi-jack humanity through their appetites. I think serial killers are stolen cars. I think your president is operated by alien intelligences and that most people, when they eat, aren't even the ones doing it and the same goes for sex. I think if you aren't grateful before every meal that you will come to a place where there is no food. I think humanity as a whole (by a large percent) are controlled by fear and appetite and milked for their stress and fear; which is the food for these negative entities. I believe quite a few things I won't put here due to space considerations.
Now, in the day to day, I would be considered mad. Am I mad? I'm not controlled by my appetites or by fear. I don't naturally bow my head before your symbols of control. I don't believe in the dreams of acquisition and personal power. I feel extremely good, light, free, seldom disturbed. If I am mad perhaps it is not such a bad thing.
Do you think there comes a time when an experiment in living goes bad? Can nations stand at the crossroads and choose whether to move toward a greater light and vitality or into a darker torpor? Is there a 'system restore' point?
If the point of life is self-discovery and union with ones higher angel (and I submit that it is) should you be allowed to descend into Hell of your own choosing or does your guide owe it to you to save your soul by destroying your ass?
Atlantis sank beneath the waves. Word has it that it's the fire next time. Have you never felt the heat that cities generate....the result of the frictions of passage and desire. Hunger is heat. How much wood can you feed a fire before it steps away from the table?
If we are only here to eat and drink and fuck more effectively well then, what the Hell? If not one might well start looking for the portals. I hear they show up just before the shit hits the fan. And whether this be an opening or merely a stong sense of being advised on traveling out of Dodge...
...I think, if I had to choose between my car collection and the driver, I think the car collection; the bank account, the jewels, whatever form it comes in- whatever it is you value in that critical moment of choice.... for me, it would be left behind. You can't take it with you and you damn well can't stay or....what? That choice will come... it's one of the certain tests for which this experiment came about.
Beamed from the Saucer Pod By Visible at 23:30
Thursday, August 05, 2004
Often I spend time musing on the ironies of peoples lives and their destinies; Michael Jackson with all that money and fame, that football player who died in Afghanistan; I can't even remember his name now... Bill Bennett moralizing and pissing away all that money; George Michael, what was he after? ...the curious case of Mother Teresa. What happened to Christopher Hitchens?
Every day I watch the scroll unroll, I see the events of the day and read analysis on evidence of events from preceeding days. I marvel at the transparency of the lies. I shake my head at the mindset that allows for ugly behaviors that embarrass this nation before the eyes of the world and in the eyes of some portion of its citizens. I can't quite ever grasp what it is these people see that makes it posible for them to be as they are. It's like a fever.
We know about physical illness and mental illness. According to half of the people, half of the people are crazy. Certainly a lot of people are not rational. We have a physical immune system and I now believe there is a mental immune system too. You can lower it significantly in a number of ways and then opportunistic vapors and humors find their way in. Some go postal with a gun or a ball point pen. Some slip increment by increment into a scoliosis of perspective. As people age they get bent. You can see it physically. You can see it in other ways too.
One of the reasons I am assured that re-incarnation is a fact is by observing the destinies of individuals. I see it too in the talents they possess and the speed at which they master their game. Bridey Murphy's just one of many bits of evidence. It's not even the most impressive, not even in the top ten.
When I was a kid I was fascinated by Ripley's- Believe it or Not. He had some other books too. I read them all. I loved Richard Halliburton and all the voyagers who took me with them on their magic carpet; whether into a speculative future or by parting the curtains of the past. I learned that many, many a curious thing happens but happens out of the common view.
Only reincarnation can explain the barbarities of the present and the past. The playing field of life does seem to be no more than an arena for settling scores and realizing dreams. It didn't take an acid trip for me to see the truth of the twin masks of Comedy and Tragedy. It may well have been acid that showed me the face between them. My fascinations went from the phenomenal world to that of the unseen. Surely there are other worlds besides this one. I am not fond of this one.
When I first heard of george w. bush it was as the 'out of nowhere' Republican candidate for President. The first time I saw him and based on the few things I had heard and read, I said to myself, "Here comes trouble." I remember thinking, right off the bat that this was an evil, deluded man. Consonant with that was my awareness of the mighty engine of money and power that appeared in his wake. I really thought the world was in trouble.
The times the world has been in trouble are too numerous to remember. The world has never been so large nor so pervasive though. Materialism has never been so congestive. Materialism is a living being. It's fed like an animal in a cage. It gets bigger and stronger. It has a mind and a purpose. It is one of the primary warriors in the battle for the human soul. And it has it's faces. It has its warlords and its frontmen. There is always Plunder. But the goal and the game of the primary gamer is not the wealth of the world. Its goal is for the subversion of the human soul.
Looking at george w. bush for the first time I saw a man devoid of conscience. I saw a robot being whose intention was to fuck up the world, to fuck up my little world. I usually let the materialists play their games. I'm not concerned with losing my share of the Rolexes and Roll's. I'm not concerned with starlets and summer homes. All I ever wanted was my space to create in and my freedom to sit still or to roam. If ever some portion of success or fame were to come to me, no doubt I would be grateful for the greater lattitude and exposure. Why would one create without the idea of an audience?
george w. bush's world impinged on my world. His world glorified the trivial and the stupid. There is seldom room for the performance and pursuit of real art in a world that celebrates the banal, plastic face of the Las Vegas whore.
In concert with re-incarnation comes the idea of a higher mind, an over-seeing, interpenetrative consciousness. The idea of being reborn always to the potential of a greater destiny implies the unseen guidance of a living God, whose mysterious ends, all work toward the common purpose of realizing our greatest potential. We have all fallen short countless times. I believe we all return, again and again, until success is finally achieved.
Slowly but surely over the course of these last years, Critical Mass has approached. One straw after another has been placed on the camel's back. Voices are raised from the throng. Voices are added, until it seems as if a thousand choirs are singing across the land. Outrage has followed outrage and Outrage has grown in the collective human heart. The amount of good in the human heart is always greater than any evil extant. Hope has always been greater than dispair. Now, I see the important voices joining the song. They are not more important essentially, but they are more important for the position from which they sing.
Hundreds of business leaders who voted for bush are now coming forth to say they will not do so again. The Wall Street Journal has switched sides. Military leaders and major artists are all stepping forward to point with a collective finger at the door through which bush and his associates must go. It's been one straw too many and Critical Mass has arrived. The game, according to board position, is over.
This Critical Mass is not yet spoken of in wide release. The camel struggles to stand but will not stand again. For those who have the eyes to see, what has been happening lately tells the tale; the tale that is not on the newstands or yet in the news. But YOU CAN see it.
Now they scheme in their desperate corner. Now they must plot to what degree they can safely act. Eyes watch from every vantage point. What can they do? What would they do?
No matter, whatever is still to come, I know we've turned a corner, not the same corner recently spoken of. We have turned a corner in favor of the human race, in favor of the greater hope, the elusive dream to which most hearts are naturally inclined.
On the playing field of endless payback, one more face of darkness is soon to melt- back into the shadows from which these faces come. Whether we will get a 'bounce' as the human race is yet to be seen. All I know is that the opportunity is there. What I know is that although evil may prosper for a time, it never wins.
Beamed from the Saucer Pod By Visible at 13:29
Wednesday, August 04, 2004
The idea of a 'fact' is an interesting thing. Generally it is based on sensory perception. Often it is based on experience, especially if it is shared experience, or common understandings. But just because something is commonly understood doesn't make it a fact. It's just assumed to be a fact and then only among those who have agreed to it. Sometimes one comes to a fact through reason. Mathematics has also provided us with many facts. That said, which is more of a fact; a house that stands in front of you or the space that exists between all of the atoms that compose the house?
One day the house will be gone. What is the house then? Where does the fact of the house reside? ...in memory? But the spaces that were there, do they prove to be more of a fact than the house ever was?
Yes, there are temporary facts. It's an observable fact that the Sun is above you in the sky during the day. If clouds obscure the Sun you still know it is there. Still, at night the Sun is still in the sky isn't it?
What I'm getting at here is; are facts reality or is reality something else altogether? Do we see what we think we see or do we see what we expect to see? Is what we see a fact of vision or is it an interpretation of the mind? Could it be that everything is in fact made out of mindstuff? Is the universe mental? Some might be thinking at this point that 'I' am mental. But there is a great deal of difficulty inherent in attempting to discuss this sort of thing. One has to talk around about. One has to infer and construct fencing to contain the image. The image is very elusive.
Talking about cars is one thing. Talking about the idea of powered motion is another. Discussing the origin of the item and the process of it's precipitation into form is yet another. Where does everything come from? ...ideas? Where do ideas come from? ...the mind? We are back to the mind.
And here is an interesting question. Are there many minds or is there but one mind that is accessed by all? The idea of a personal mind implies endless conflict with other personal minds ...and we see that all round. We see the conflicts of perception and preference. We see the conflicts of belief and pre-disposition. We note how environment and conditioning affect perception. At no time in this world has there been common agreement on the things we live and die for. Could it be that we live and die for nothing? Could death itself be no more than the place where our personal illusions encounter truth? Could the truth be that there are no personal minds and that when our idea of a personal mind encounters the reality of the single mind we are swallowed up in it?
So, what would seem to be the saner route? ...forging ahead with your personal baggage amidst the millions of commuters going who knows where? ...or, letting go completely of all things personal and falling back into the one mind? -even while carrying out the seeming personal acts. The personal mind doesn't seem to fare well. It certainly suffers here in this realm of endless conflict with the other minds. The one mind goes on and on, containing a constant procession of new personal minds on their way to becoming history. And that history continuing until the next seasons leaves overlays the last.
Think if you will of the names that remain. Out of the billions upon billions of names, which names spring to mind? Usually they are the names of great villains or those remembered as heroes. They are the names of religious leaders and singular artists. They say there was a culture known as Atlantis. Surely this culture, if it existed, had it's Shakespeares and Mozarts, it's Mohammed's and it's Christ's. Can you recall a single one? The covering leaves have grown exceedingly thick. Gurdjieff, those strange Scientologists and The Urantia Book (do not drop this one on your foot) speak of cultures that predate Atlantis by greath lengths of time.
But this mind that contains it all remains. It remains anonymous, without qualities; except those given it by the personal mind which, more often than not, is unaware of it.
I think of this mind as something like the snows on the high mountains, the pure math of thought. When the snow melts it runs down into the valleys and creates a riot of color and confusion. White light shot through a prism manifests the seven rays. Music also has interesting comparisons...do-re-me-fa-so-la-ti....that's seven isn't it? Then there are the seven planets of the ancients. Why there are even seven days in the week. It seems that there is some kind of a formula, some sort of metaphysical construct but we are not clear about it all.
If there is one mind and if apprehension of this mind is the purpose of our existence, ...then....suddenly suffering becomes understandable. Think of the one mind as a mother with many children. The children run hither and yon. They fall down. They get dirty. They crawl under the house. They climb on top of the house. They fight. They laugh. They get frightened and they get angry. They cry out for the mother. She would keep them with her always but the child is willful and wants to go out, to see what it might find. What does it find? What does it know?
So, essentially, it seems that suffering is a product of desire. It comes either through the lack of the thing desired, the efforts made to obtain it, or the result of possessing it.
The facts as we see them are unique to our personal perspective; some of them are shared. Some have been shared for so long they are just accepted as so and yet often prove not to be. Fables tell us much.
I think the personal mind is a fable, less true than the fables told to children, far less true than the actual intent of the fables. Maybe we only think we are who we think we are. Maybe that person doesn't even exist. Maybe that is just a place where the one mind got formed into a temporary locus, receeding even while we view it. Surely this is the heartbreak of personal love as well as the redemption of the heart that seeks to carry the love beyond. Surely this is the hearbreak of every perishable and passing thing. What do you hold on to? Maybe you don't. Maybe it is holding on to you.
You're all a pack of cards.
Beamed from the Saucer Pod By Visible at 22:35
Oh, there were many signs; the usual material excesses, the fragmenting of long time unities in religion, lifestyles and commonalities of thought, changing neighborhoods, the transformation of sexual congress into a theme park of outrageous diversities; the wanton celebration of all things trivial, the dumbing down of the populace. You learn to see the signs.
This isn't my first apocalype you know? I've been around for awhile. You usually see me standing on one foot with the other raised in dance. I get to dance as long as I can hold that demon under my foot. You'd be improved if you considered doing the same. But let's face it, somehow you got the idea it was better to let the demon do the dance and, well, there you are.
Yeah, I've been here a very long time. You don't see me much. I'm seldom invited to parties or most gatherings. Apparently I remind people of things they would rather not know. It's always mystified me, that feature in people. Why would you rather not know what you are headed directly for? Hey, "eat drink and be merry." sure....but...ah well.
All of what I have just said is true, in every aspect and in every application to every thing and every one mentioned. The interesting thing is that you'll read this and just move on. It would be a revelation if you were actually able to wait long enough for reflection to bring up an image. Ay yuh, times a wasting...and my cellphone is ringing. Just what did that stork say to the Pandava brother?
In any case I knew the apocalypse was close when I heard that Madonna was a kabbalistic initiate. It was further enhanced when I heard that Britany Spears and Mariah Carey were also new illuminati's of this oldest, deepest, most cryptic and difficult of sciences. When that which is deepest comes to touch that which is the least deep....you have the circle complete.
Now, it is as likely that Madonna would comprehend kabbalistic teachings as that Jessica Simpson would win the Nobel Prize in Physics. It is more likely that a cow would articulate upon the works of Wittgenstein at The Royal Academy than that Britany Spears would have any glimmer of the association between Teth and Lamed. It's not going to happen. Of course these faux-rabbi con artiste's from LA haven't a clue to what's what with the Kabbala.
They no doubt think Enochian Magic is a new scent from Loreal. That's not important. What's important is the face of this moment of time and what it says about you and your world.
I've made the connections between the transit from Dylan and The Beatles to the 'pimps and ho's' of contemporary Hip Hop. I've noted the intellectual comparisons between John F. Kennedy and gwb. I have watched us go from Walter Cronkite to Bill O'Reilly, LSD to designer Heroin. Oh, the comparisons you can draw are legion.
I don't mean to piss in your Kabbala Water but the degree of dilution is impressive...very. Your world is not just an insult to your creator, it's an insult to life itself.
What usually happens is that you get signs. For all the crying of "give me a sign", there are signs a plenty all along the way. You see things you didn't see before. After a time these things become commonplace and then you see new things you never saw before, they become commonplace and you begin to see things you couldn't have imagined earlier.
The interesting thing is not that this happens. the interesting thing is that you just go on as if they hadn't happened; aren't happening...but they are.
I'm dancing because that is what I do. I'd be dancing whether we were gathered round a campfire or whether the whole world were in flames.
So, whether it materializes into something out of Childhood's End, as a progression out of the mosh pits, or whether it heads for Terminatorland or the realms of fantasy, magic and myth- that's all one to me. But what is it to you? How do the things you value, travel? Just what is it you value, by the way?
I'm reminded of the journey of Odysseus. I'm trying to think if any of his engagements were of a pleasant nature. I'm thinking about Dodo Birds and Darwin Awards. I'm thinking about Madonna's backstage Kabbala advisors doing their Don Juan impersonations. I'm thinking about you. What are you doing for The Apocalypse? I'm dancing.
Beamed from the Saucer Pod By Visible at 12:06
Tuesday, August 03, 2004
The headline at Sludge Report says that the recent information seized in Pakistan is 'years old'. It predates 9/11. A 'senior law enforcement agent' says he doesn't know why the threat level went up. So...today you have the intensity of presence and paranoia throughout the city of New York for no good reason at all. Can there be any doubt what these people are playing at?
Do you still doubt that a powerful group of fascists control the United States? As I stated yesterday, the threat of al qaeda and the Orwellian show of bristling force are two arms on the same body. One arm is raised to smash the populace below, the other arm curls about the populace drawing it close.
The bin laden videos and the bin laden confessions have all been proven to be fabrications. The man in the White House came to power through election fraud. 911 was a Reichstag Fire. The Iraq war came about through a web of lies, now exposed.
You are being set up people.
If stupidity were a virtue then America has become a nation of bovine saints.Where is this bin laden anyway? There can be no question that efforts are under way to transform America into an armed camp. Through the maze of Patriot Acts and extreme regulations, virtual concertina wire is being woven about your hearts and minds and bodies. Sooner rather than later, real wire will come.
Dissent is muffled, critics of the junta are arrested and bussed away while people with bullhorns show up at opposition party gatherings. The red-faced zombies from the Palm Beach election center have replicated. The armies of the undead are everywhere. No, it's not a movie.
The majority of the country opposes the goose-stepping dead. Strange polls appear that reflect otherwise. Lassitude presses heavily upon the national mind. Torpor moves like dense fog over the airwaves and on to the streets. Remain calm....
As it is certain these rogues will be defeated by present tally, it is more certain that steps must be taken to countermand the democratic process; it's for your own good.... remain calm.
What next? Watch, just watch.
If your eyes could see them you would note huge bellied demons moving across the landscape. It is good that your ears cannot hear what they say, better still that your mind does not comprehend their intent. There is no escaping the uneasiness of the atmosphere though. That is palpable. bushco has called up the demons from The Pit.
Will you survive? Will help come? Is there a light in the darkness? Does the light, even now, still veiled, wait in the wings for that dramatic moment of arrival?
It is probably going to be hard enough not to spill your popcorn and pee your pants. Now is the time you have to ask yourself; did I live halfway well enough to have the courage I need?
Do I believe in anything?
Is what I believe in real?
Did I live close enough to the light that it will illuminate rather than consume me?
You are about to find out.
Beamed from the Saucer Pod By Visible at 13:02
Monday, August 02, 2004
Well, I couldn't very well say "Kenneth" could I?
I have been noticing for awhile, right from the beginning actually, that all this terror alert business is bullshit. Maybe I'm smarter than the average bear, or maybe I'm just not sleeping; perhaps it is a desire to be contrary; whatever the case, I am correct.
The terror alert business shouldn't feel like the Lone Ranger because nearly everything in which this administration is engaged is bullshit. It's not just your ordinary, steaming in the morning sunlight bullshit...it's Claymore Mine kinda bullshit that blows up if you stir it with a stick, step in it or put a spoonful in your mouth. It's dangerous bullshit.
I want you to think of bushjunta and al qaeda as two arms on the same body. They seem far apart and their origins (intentions) unknown but they are parts of the same body. Imagine that you, the American public, reside in the space between these arms. Imagine the al qaeda arm raised over you with a clenched fist. It smashes down...just once. Afterward it hovers, fist closed, over you, moving, feinting. You can see and feel the shadow move but it doesn't drop again. It hasn't had to yet.
Think of the other arm as encircling around you and pulling you in, pulling you in closer toward the body that you cannot see.
Aldous Huxley was once describing History. he said something like, "Imagine a human face being repeatedly smashed by a hobnail boot for eternity, that's History."
What is the point of a government that appears everywhere on it's captive media and announces terror events that never occur? What is the purpose of announcing specific locations and varieties of detail? Does this stop the terrorists? If you were a terrorist (with a brain) wouldn't you arrange for the discovery of a laptop, a person- even a cell of individuals engaged in an event that is not intended to occur, while you planned an entirely different series of events?
"Uh people, the terrorists are planning to attack at any time, please go on about your business."
What is the point of telling people anything? There's no al qaeda except the al alqaeda that the bush administration needs to herd the public into the stock pens. CUI BONO! CUI BONO! who have the terrorists helped the most? Who benefits each day from the terrorists? Whose policies of governance are all predicated on the anticipated actions of terrorists? Who has LIED over and over about terrorists and used the idea of terrorists to further the erosion of the fundamentals upon which America was founded?
Are there terrorists? Sure. Are some of them Freedom Fighters? Sure. Are terrorists the danger they are made out to be? No. Can the problem of terrorism be addressed with a change in national policy? Yes? How many people died in WTC 9/11...around 3000? How many people die on the highway from accidents each year...around 50,000? How many die from the combined effects of alcohol and cigarettes? Even more...much more. Think about it here.
al qaeda is a feature of this administration as well as a bargaining chip for the interests of a collective of interests who rule your world.
It's for you safety. "Please remove that t-shirt." It's for your safety. "You may not get out of your seat." It's for your safety. "Please remove your clothes." It's for your safety. "You will not make negative remarks about the president or we will shut you down. We will take you off the radio. We will smear you. We will destroy you." It's for your safety. "You cannot write poetry that criticizes the president. We will expel you. We will fire you." It's for your safety.
Will terrorists hit again? Sure, probably. Do you think the Sudanese are glad they don't have to worry about terrorists? Are you better off than they are? In how many parts of the world is the presence of constant threat, fear and ongoing suffering present?
When will the terrorists hit again? They will hit at a time that maximizes the benefits for the corporation running the former United States of America. Bet it. Mohammed Atta's passport tumbles slowly down from the blazing inferno and lands unharmed at the feet of a policeman.
Everything is perfectly clear..."remain calm." Please move quietly to the exits..."remain calm."......."the commission has found yadda, yadda, bwak!!! bwak!!!" "said that dick cheney would be replaced on the ticket by tom ridge" "bwak!!! bawk!!!""Berger had mentioned repeatedly that he had made every effort to warn the incoming administration of an iminent terror attack but that they refused to see him."
............the president nodded his head and continued reading, "And the goat boy came out of the flames, and mounted The Beast who had a mortal wound but was healed by The Dragon. The pregnant woman cried out in pain as The Dragon waited at her feet to eat the issuing offspring while a voice in the air kept crying 'allie, allie in come free.'
Beamed from the Saucer Pod By Visible at 18:11
Okay, yes, this is a world of lies. If all we perceive comes through the instruments of the senses and is then analysed in terms of appetite and preference, then those are lies, all of them. Maybe they are only lies of convenience.
But, if my taste buds tell me I want a certain kind of food and my bowels burn in the aftermath, does it matter if my taste buds lied about what was good for me? Did they lie? They said they wanted it, I let them have it. Maybe the point is that I told myself my taste buds were me. Maybe I lied to myself.
What could possibly make one prefer lies over the truth? It could only be that the truth is, essentially unpleasant. This then implies that the universe, and whatever truth may exist in it, is an unfriendly place and is opposed to our well being.
Here's where lies gain credence. If you can be made to believe that the universe and the forces in the universe are opposed to you, you can be manipulated into opposing yourself. The mechanisim used is FEAR.
I'll say it again. I have said it often enough before. Your greatest enemies are your appetite and your fear. Nearly every lie springs from the instigation of one or the other. I'll qualify appetite by saying it includes esoteric drives as well, like the appetite for power and the thirst for knowledge. The latter may not be entirely bad, you'd have to ask Faust.
I can't explore all the minutiae within the limitations of this post, so it's more a matter of are you inclined to follow what I infer through the process of personal reasoning or will you dismiss it out of hand? That has little to do with me; the ball have left my court.
My point is that every day I see things that I am told are different than what I see. While observing the lie unfold I am told it is the truth. Now it becomes a matter of whether I will risk believing what I know to be true or whether I will huddle among the largest number thinking safety there abides?
Very seldom do I see, what I perceive to be, the truth. Very seldom am I presented with anything I really want. Very seldom am I in the company of people who can tell the difference between the shadow thrown and the shape that throws it.
In this world of fear you are told to become as finanacially stable as you can be, out of fear of want and the unknown. But you die anyway. You are told to support things that cause you harm out of the fear that unworthy souls may benefit. You are told harm may come from others for a multitude of reasons. You think Jehovah and Mohammed have missile silo's. This is not to say that forces do not war against Heaven. I do wager they never win.
99% of what you are told to fear never comes to pass. All your suffering usually comes from the bad judgement that accepted the influence of lies. There were lies of appetite and the lies of the heart in a cloud of passion. There were the many lies of fear. There were the lies of the world you embraced that sucked the life from you and left you wondering how you wound up HERE.
Perhaps truth is not your enemy. Maybe there is a great virtue in dying out of a worn out form. Maybe there is a greater good in having and wanting less. Maybe your best pleasure and highest joy is an internal matter. But this kind of thinking won't get you into WalMart. It won't subvert your best results in a mistaken vote. It won't make you feel good RIGHT NOW.
I suppose the truth is a painful thing. There's a great comfort in watching life as opposed to living life. There's a greasy satisfaction in a Fatburger whether it sticks through a glory hole or comes in a plastic container. Dogs aren't the only life form that rolls in dead bodies. The thing is, the other dogs don't mind. You have to wonder how we smell to the Gods.
We've mostly all heard about the narrow road that leads to life and the wide highway to destruction. I find the most interesting thing to be that, in the face of what should be obvious- so many, many people just close their eyes.
When I think about the truth, whatever that might be, I think of something like the Jaws of Life prying open the door of the heart. There's no arguing against the fact that it hurts. When I think of lies I think of a million hammers, hammering shut that door. And you have to wonder what would hurt more; the endless hammering, or the amount of opening required afterwards.
Truth's unavoidable in the long run. That means the longer and more circuitous the route, the greater the extent of the pain.
Yet the direct route is so damn scary. It flies in the face of a motherlode of lies. It separates you out and there's that long dark night before you get back to being "in it, but not of it." It's all something to keep in mind when you watch TV and read the news, when you go to the supermarket or your corner tavern, when you wake up and when you go to sleep.
We may not have all the choices we would like and we may have far less power than we are inclined to think we possess...but there are things we can do in this world, that though they do benefit others; really benefit ourselves.
Sometimes the greatest good comes from working toward the greater good. I do believe our most rapid achievement comes to the degree that we can lose ourselves in this very thing. I have met truly only a few who have approached this...but that does not mean they are so very few. It just means that, lost among their fellows, they are often very much harder to see.
Beamed from the Saucer Pod By Visible at 01:12