As quiet and unhasseled as my life is there are flurries of action since life does require my attendance for some things; like this post. Whether there is some broader more embracing importance is irrelevant. Life seems inclined to pressure me in certain areas and I am inclined to follow, depending. So, I’ve been doing other things and sometimes thinking about what I would say here- but I never know till I start writing it down.
I doubt that my reason for the protracted sketch of my life was evident on the face of it. The truth is that I know my life better than I do anyone else’s. If I’m going to make an example of a life for the purpose of demonstrating a point it is reasonable to assume I would use my own. It’s really that simple. My life has been very different than the main but there have certainly been more exceptional lives.
It’s consistent with human behavior to always look outside oneself for an explanation of events and conditions. We say we are the way we are because of our environment, or particular events, or the basic makeup of our personality. However, no two people would have reacted to the same thing in the same way. So actually the reasons would really be you, not what happened to you. You can look at your country; your circumstances of birth, your race or your creed, inopportune or fortuitous events and say; here’s why and here’s how. But you got how you are because of who you are, ultimately.
This gives us two ways to look at things. We can measure our results by how they compare with what we wanted, or we can measure them according to the intentions of something deeper inside us; call it God, the demiurge, fate, whatever you want. Is this life just an opportunity to achieve personal satisfactions or is it about something else altogether? Is it possible that both are connected? It comes down to the old question; Who are we? It’s hard to imagine that the things we think we want are valid if we don’t know who it is that wants them.
The early portion of my life was a very painful period. Most of the periods of my life have had a good portion of pain. But it wasn’t pain actually, it was compression. If I hadn’t been brutalized like I was I wouldn’t have spent so much time escaping into books. I wouldn’t have been driven to inquire with such intensity into the meaning of life. I was compressed much as grapes are in a press. I was forced down and into.
If we recognize that we are God putting himself through circumstance in order to understand, then everything makes sense. Otherwise you have no real answers and inevitably become disappointed, bitter, disillusioned and disassociated from life; except for the pathologies you picked up in defense of yourself.
Seen from one perspective my life is one of failure in every respect. I don’t count small passing achievements or wisdom gained in the process. I’m using the yardstick the world uses to measure success. Seen from a general perspective I’m a criminal madman; a threat to society, a bad example, a fickle- self indulgent sensation seeking wastrel destined for a bad end. I’ve been irresponsible, reckless, contemptuous of institutions and mores and too clever by half.
I don’t know if anyone noticed that I never mentioned my mother in my tale. My mother is what would be called a God-fearing Christian woman. She raised 6 kids under the most horrific circumstances and generally got called a liar and a whore without ever having been either, except inasmuch as she might have lied to protect someone. She’s about as selfless as they get.
One of the things that happened to me when my Kundalini woke up was that I no longer felt any family affiliations. Pretty much everyone became a part of my family with the entire spectrum of the dysfunctional laid out on the worktable. I realized that I had birthed myself and formed myself with intentions beyond anything I realized, or realize as yet. When my Kundalini woke up I became as female as any woman while gravitating back and forth from the male pole. It took me a long time to realize an essential facet of the entire matter. The war inside me that manifested into a war outside of me was nothing more than the ongoing argument between my mother and my father. I’d say every life is a case of this to a greater or lesser degree.
In the Tibetan tradition it is said that a soul on the brink of reincarnation sees its father and mother making love prior to conception. The choice of the mother and father is specific to the intentions of the soul in its ongoing progress. Most lives continue with this polarity as a constant throughout the life. However, some lives, in accelerated circumstance, in a hot-housed condition, may experience quite a number of lives in one. There really isn’t a limit. One who is jivanmukti may be many things but one thing they are is still bound to the continuation of events, even if he be consciously immortal he has to play out the movie- he does not escape the necessary examples that are the footprints of his progress.
I know now that my job, everyone’s job, is to reunite the mother and the father in a perfect harmony within. The agony of this work, given all the permutations and surrenders necessary, are considerable. But it is certain that progress is made and that whatever pain may exist in the ongoing clumsiness of fusion, it is by degrees less than it was.
There are many niches, high and low, from which to observe life, as many as there are lives and each is a philosophy and a perspective. However much wisdom any one of them may contain they are all flawed, either in principle, or in the limitations placed upon ones capacity to express it. They’re all seats in the crowd no matter how far you are seated from the action. None of them are 360 degrees of absorption.
Someone made a reference a little while ago that I was perceived as anti-gay. I imagine I’ve been perceived as anti-just about anything at one time or another because my take on what I’m looking at doesn’t jibe with the way the vested have fashioned the view to accommodate their interests. I’ve no problem with loving my brother but I’m not certain sucking his cock is the highest possible expression of it. I had thought it was laying down your life for him, which doesn’t automatically mean dying in fact but might imply a number of possible expressions which come to the same thing. A simple investigation of a penis inserted into another’s ass provides certain evidences regarding what lies in both areas. Careful thought on the matter brings up a number of possible speculations upon results. But that’s all Kundalini too. It’s Kundalini in reverse. In this transiting time of Aquarian emergence there is a gravitating toward the feminine and an acting out on the material in respect of it. Given the excessive pressure of the material world upon the psyche it is not hard to understand how things get this way. Most of the people who claim to be gay aren’t gay at all but this isn’t the place to investigate it more deeply.
For me, gay is a phase. It’s a process one goes through and EVERYONE goes through it. It’s not something for me to judge or diminish and anyone who thinks I do this is missing the point of my argument; intentionally in some instances.
There are good reasons to be anti-Semitic. I can clearly see why some would feel as they do. I understand the fear that makes a white suburban Republican (or Democrat) hate blacks. I can understand why anyone hates or fears anyone for any reason. Rather than dismiss why someone feels as they do, or censure them (from an assumed high ground) I look into their reasoning. Anything can be made to seem irrefutably anything given the usual blinders that are ubiquitous. These are all phases and life is designed to put you through your paces in addressing them. The real error is in evading the search for a deeper truth. The real sorrow is in the length of the term in which one remains ignorant of ones condition.
Life moves through constant change. Look at music. You have the idealism of the 60’s that moved into the hedonism of the 70’s. The 80’s brought a self-involved condition fueled by the greed of the marketplace. Then came the whining of the 90’s- a further push into ‘me’ focus; we’ve now moved into the thumping redundancy of violent demeaning of everything (or saccharine glorification of the trivial)- principally the feminine because it’s all her fault apparently. That will change too.
I remember sitting in a room in Palm Springs alone, tripping, I became a woman in her fifties, cosmeticized, draped in jewelry; an old queen who is the queen inside the archetype of the locale. I knew her and who she was. I experienced her in every permutation in so many different locales; she, the form giving mother of the defining stereotypes of the passing circumstance.
I can’t discount the truths I’ve gained at a deeper position just to accommodate the desires of anyone to have things a certain way for the convenience of their desire for how it should be. But it doesn’t make me judge them, or anyone who is anything for the time they have to be that. They are me. When the man and the woman come together in me then I’m in bliss. When they are not, I’m in and a part of all of the conflicts, misunderstandings and prejudices of my time- but at least these days I know it is happening.
I got put through everything I got put through by myself for myself. It was really important to me to succeed at different things to prove my father wrong. It was also impossible for me to avoid expressing things that we the natural expression of the music as it flowed through the flute of my being; whether that was music, or writing, or acting or any of the mechanisms I gravitated to and worked through.
None of that’s important anymore. I don’t play my guitar anymore, or my piano. I don’t write my books. I don’t dream about the working out of whatever these things might have once implied. I seldom think about my walled garden. I used to think about it all the time. One day I came across the phrase ‘para-deez’ it means walled garden; paradise- that made me laugh. The thing I thought I wanted was not the thing I wanted. The things I thought I knew I didn’t know. The person I thought I was was not the person I am. But everything I went through was designed specifically for me to be able to see more clearly. In that respect my life is a success.
I take real success to be how you feel. How do you feel? I don’t think I have to explain this.
I did not think I would be very successful at making my point here today. There is just too much to say in too many different ways. I’m left making an outline of an outline.
A person can live in the most exceptional opulence. Donald Trump and Rupert Murdoch can have at their behest every convenience and luxury that the times have so far developed. And a man can sit in a cave in the Himalayas before a fire and possess an external beauty, atmosphere and radiance beyond anything the others might enjoy while at the same time possessing an internal state of rapture inexpressible to the common mind. He may have this in a little beach house or a cabin in the woods without possessing anything else. He may have this in a crowd or alone. It is no burden to carry and does not require a delivery truck to replenish, as it never runs out. He may sing in an empty field to an audience larger than the population of the Earth. He comes and goes without a cell-phone. He is without anguish for union. He is complete.
I fell like I should go on but I’m going to stop, because I can go on again tomorrow and for as long as I continue to do this. We’ll leave off for now because I want to go sit in the sun and feel the things I feel.
Saturday, February 05, 2005
Beamed from the Saucer Pod By Visible at 16:02