Writtens

Transcendental Love

2012-01-08T15:04:00.000-08:00

From a discussion on a friend's post, Surviving The Twin Flame, at his blog New Earth Light. The early "ultimate love and loss" that Emerson experienced, referred to here, was the passing of his beloved first wife after three years of marriage.

Carl and Heather,

Just wanted to address your comments re the Emerson quote on love. For the sake of general readability, here is that quote again:

"I know how delicious is this cup of love–I existing for you, you existing for me; but it is a child clinging to his toy, an attempt to eternize the fireside and nuptial chamber; to keep the picture alphabet through which our first lessons were prettily conveyed. This early dream of love, though beautiful, is only one scene in our life-play. In the processions of the soul from within outward, it enlarges its circles, like light proceeding from an orb. It passes from loving one to loving all; and so, this one beautiful soul opens the divine door through which he enters to the society of all true and pure souls. Thus in our first years are we put in training for a love which knows neither sex, person, nor partiality; but which seeks virtue and wisdom everywhere, to the end of increasing virtue and wisdom.”

Carl, you wrote:

"He sounds scolding toward anyone who holds onto an earlier idealized affection, calling it a child's toy and just a lesson to love everything, which suggests to me a lack of compassion and full integration for the depth of what he experienced. That remains my opinion and sense of it, because I know how hard it can be to grow beyond that first eternal paired peer love that created us. It becomes a joy when we realize our full destiny in human divine consciousness, which more are achieving now."

For my part, I see Emerson's perspective there as being perfectly representative of Transcendentalism. Since he identified himself as a transcendentalist, it is only to be expected that he would express their views. Transcendentalism is a close cousin of cosmic consciousness, and Emerson was held up as one of the examples of
cosmic consciousness in Richard Maurice Bucke's classic, Cosmic Consciousness.

I think it is precisely because Emerson knew the ultimate pangs of love and loss, that he was able to come to the perspective he voiced in that quote. Naturally it took a while for him to get there.

Someone asked a spiritual teacher about soul mates. The teacher said that everyone on the planet is our soul mate. That if we have a moment with the guy selling newspapers on the street, that guy is our soulmate in that moment. He says, "I don't mean to destroy dreams, but to expand them."

Heather, you wrote of Emerson:

"Emerson - from my first reading of what he wrote, I felt that there was a lot of pain there for him..like he hadn't healed from his experience or fully accepted it..we can't replace our twin but we can love others...ultimately we have to heal and forgive from the first separation from our twin..which was very painful."

I feel Emerson did go through the healing over the years, in regard to his lost love. He moved on, he married again, had children, wrote his masterpieces of philosophy and literature. As a Transcendentalist, he exemplified a transcendental view of love, one more in sync with cosmic consciousness, where the love of one expands to embrace all.

Having said all that, I agree that Emerson's tone may be a tad dismissive of romantic love, but like the other spiritual teacher I quoted, he was really about expanding rather than contracting our experience.

Carl replied:

Thanks Jen for the poem and further comments. I like the point that defenders of Cosmic Consciousness hopefully don't mean to destroy dreams but rather expand them. I think everyone should be able to pursue their entry into love without degrading any other, just like the spiritual path itself. Romance works for a lot of people as initiation into higher states of love, and if they continue to hold their personal beloved more closely than the corner guy selling newspapers well, who is anyone to disagree, I certainly don't. Romantics didn't say they don't have a love for everyone, in fact people in personal love usually overflow with love for everything. It's the brokenhearted and superior to that experience who can sound less generous. I almost like Emerson's poem, but then he implies that his lost beloved is only a half-god and he's better off without her. Why isn't everyone a full god, why doesn't he just honestly miss her? He still sounds in denial of hurt and not wholly healed to me.

And I responded:

Hi Carl,

In the poem "Give All To Love" those lines "When half-gods go, the gods arrive" may refer to the realization that the girl he loved was not the right match, since she apparently wasn't that into him:

"But when the surprise,
First vague shadow of surmise
Flits across her bosom young,
Of a joy apart from thee,
Free be she, fancy-free"

Another meaning may relate to the 'early dream of love' as a half-god.
From what I've read of Emerson, he is opposed to burdening the objects of our love both culturally (he objected to the structure of marriage) and personally, focusing our expectations on them.

Pondering this subject, I am reminded of W.B. Yeats' poem, "Speech After Long Silence," wherein he speaks of "the supreme theme of art and song":

"Bodily decrepitude is wisdom; young
We loved each other and were ignorant."

I am sure it is true that it is easier for one who is more advanced in years to resonate with and embrace the Transcendentalist attitude about love. I don't at all agree that bodily decreptitude equals wisdom, and it doesn't seem to me that this is the "supreme theme of art and song," but those are still great lines!

Post-Breakup Pomes

2011-11-15T19:19:00.000-08:00

STATIC ON THE LINE

Static on the line
crackling in our last phone talk,
there between us still.

HE IS SLEEPING

Though I shake him,
I cannot wake him,
for he is sleeping.
I sang a song he used to love,
I stroke his face so tenderly,
but silent is he.
Even the leaves of the cypress tree
are still in the breeze.
How can he abandon me,
ignoring my pleas?
Bound together,
he said we were,
forever.
Though I shake him,
I cannot wake him,
for he is sleeping.

NOT YOU

It was a stranger
who called me up
and spoke those words with intent
of dividing you and me.
An impostor, an intruder
in the house of love.
Not you.

The words that stranger spoke,
without hope, or love, or truth--
words of contempt,
hateful, ungrateful--
they did not come from you.
It was a stranger's voice
that spoke to me.
Not yours.

I just wanted you to know
about this person
who called me up,
pretending to be you.
I don't know why
he wants to hurt me
and spit on my heart.
I just take comfort in knowing
he's not and never could be
the one I love,
the one so close to me--
the real you.

THE WINE OF LOVE

Pour more wine for me
and my companions, too,
we're mourning love's brevity,
and, oh Love, I am missing you.

That day beside the river
when you leaned on me, tired one,
I wished to be
your resting-place forever.
So soon, too soon our love was done...

Roaming the field with you at night
I marveled at the beauty of your face,
pale in starlight.
Magical, that time and place...

That night we danced together,
fast and slow,
you too were enamored and entranced,
and now that is gone...

One more glass--enough, just so--
I'll sit here til nightfall,
musing on its ruby glow,
lovely as our love,
before we drank it all.

THE CANDLE

You asked me to hold
a candle for you,
to bring you luck,
to light your way.

Then we parted
and you are gone
from my life,
but in my heart
the candle burns still,
flickering low,
sometimes almost dying out,
but always flaring up again,
high and bright,
that infinitely stubborn, momentary,
immutable love light.

LOVER'S REPORT CARD

Feh! so
Fickle--why did I
Fall for him in the
First place? Why should I give a
Flying
F--ck about that
Flimmer?*

*Fake name
For him

POEM'S PROGRESS

"Poems are never finished,
only abandoned," I told someone today.
So it is with us, confrere--
we've left off writing our love poem
and we'll get back to it,
someday, somehow, somewhere.

Hafiz #1

2011-11-09T21:08:00.000-08:00

This is my version of the first of Hafiz' "ghazals." Thanks to F. Rassouli for his translation I used in crafting the poem.

O Winegiver!
Pass your sweetest wine around,
for the joy of love's beginning
so often runs aground.

Breeze at dawn
blows the musk of my beloved's hair,
blows the glowing heart-embers...
wildfire rages there.

In darkest night
the sea wages war,
the crashing waves breathing fear,
a whirlpool of fright...
how can those who stay on shore
come to know the burden here?

Even though my soul is singing
when in the beloved's arms,
still the bells are loudly ringing:
"Move on now, to other charms."

Love is more than simple pleasure,
I cannot seek this alone...
if I disdain the real treasure
in time this will be widely known.

Spatter red wine freely
on your prayer rug,
if the Peer of the Magi bids thee.
Heed his call,
for he has traveled the path of Love
and knows all.

O Hafiz,
pay the world no mind.
Seek only the Beloved's heart,
dive deep into the love there,
and at the chamber's doorway
leave all else behind.

PRESCRIPTION

2011-08-06T23:44:00.001-07:00

Just
trust

the world in me

2011-07-08T11:29:00.000-07:00

My country is the country within me
where all dwell in peace and love.
Where the nightingale's song of desire
wafts through our dreams,
where we are awakened to live those dreams
by the birds of the morning,
where I behold
fields of rich harvest,
green growing forests,
the deer and rabbit treading in safety,
and where cool streams caress our toes.
Here, we know we are citizens
of untold universes,
and we venture forth into them
seeking and experiencing
like the heroes we are.
I am the singer and the song
of this vision,
I am the seeker and the sought,
I am the change I want to see,
I am the world inside of me.

The Primeval Hammering

2011-04-24T23:51:00.000-07:00

Do you know what it is to be an artist? To have the Creator at work in you every moment of your life? Perhaps you will argue that the Creator works in every man, and that is very possibly true. But he works in the basement of the house (like a middle-class man who has installed a craftsman's bench in the cellar, while his wife keeps the upper floors in order). A fussy housekeeper rules the upper levels where the world is entertained; but the Creator goes downstairs to work. In the silences when the street-door is closed, the tapping of his hammer may be heard by the listening, receptive one.

The more stir above stairs, the less the primeval hammering can be heard. Most people seal off the cellar of their house at their childhood's close, and the hammering is never heard in them again throughout their life. They have walled off their Creator in the days of their youth, and He who called the universe into being has died in them. Occasionally the walled-in workman, too vital to die, sets fire to gunpowder, blowing up the established order, the parliamentary procedure of the parlor floor.

-excerpt from "God And Puppet" by Irene Orgel

SANTA CRUZ REVISITED

2011-04-08T17:52:00.000-07:00

I've seen you immortalized
in a black and white photo,
running, dancing with the waves
in Santa Cruz long ago,
I see you now as you were then,
I see the child still in you, shining through
in your lovely sea-green eyes.

Come with me again to Santa Cruz,
our love resounding with the sea
as we walk upon the shore.
It's time to make new memories
and make the old ones new again,
something we'll never lose.

When clouds darken your sky,
when the world seems untrue,
recapture the rapture
of the sun blessing you,
the sand caressing you,
close your eyes and you'll be there,
one with the seagull's cry.

And then at sundown on the pier
I see and know what's real
in the twilight soft and clear.
The Ferris wheel lights up the sky,
your silence tells me all you feel,
with all my heart I'm here.

I've seen you immortalized
in a black-and-white photo,
running, dancing with the waves
in Santa Cruz long ago,
I see you now as you were then,
I see the child still in you,
shining through
in your lovely sea-green eyes.

Being The New

2011-03-21T13:35:00.000-07:00

Now I see how I see
is what makes
new world, new me.
Come with me now,
the rules we'll bend,
we'll transcend
and make our own,
hear the tone,
come today, come today,
we'll make our way,
again we'll play
upon the shore,
that joy we thought
would come no more,
we've gone so far
yet no distance,
it's been so long
yet all transpired
in an instant,
let us be, running free,
new we, new world,
literally.

Atlantis and Japan - Learning From The Past

2011-03-20T16:23:00.000-07:00

A friend posted about the Atlantis/Japan connection at his blog, newearthlight.blogspot.com. I am grateful to him for connecting the dots there, here are my comments to him interspersed with quotes from his post.

His thank-you in the beginning refers to my posting his article at a message board that I frequent.

Hi Jen,

Oh, thank you my friend for appreciating and sharing the post, I don't know how my writings get known but through the word of friends, and I do want these insights to comfort and guide whoever needs them.

Hello Carl, yes, your post is very thought-provoking. I feel there is indeed a connection between the Atlantis story and the events unfolding in Japan. Ultimately, of course, there are no accidents (though the events transpiring now may seem to contradict that), and it is a huge sync and sign, that as reported by Reuters news service, the ruins of Atlantis are emerging at this cataclysmic time in our history.

This for me was the crux of your article:

We must debate the folly of a short-sighted greed-driven civilization that enjoys powers it cannot control but which it knows full well can turn incalculably deadly.

Why did Japan, the most earthquake prone nation in the world, rely upon nuclear fission, the most dangerous power source ever professed to be harnessed? To concentrate chemicals whose intensely poisonous effects can kill millions for centuries, in facilities that require constant flawless attention or else risk run-away meltdown scenarios with the potential to destroy all life on the planet (yes, in a worst case that burns and spews radiation for years), all the while inviting the vulnerability of theft by stupid evil for deliberate destruction in terrorist devices, and all just for the convenience of a large heat producing capacity that can drive some turbines to sell electricity to a culture hooked on consuming ever more resources, is insanely immoral. The human ego’s thirst for power has long outpaced the will to live in humble harmony with nature, as evidenced first by the devastating pollution of the fossil fuel driven industrial revolution, and then by the atomic age of exponentially expanding information castrated of any real wisdom.

So already, countries are reacting to Japan’s misfortune by inspecting and shutting down their own nuclear power plants, and this alone is an expectably desired outcome. Experts are emerging to denounce the obvious greed of a corporation that maximized storage of spent fuel, insufficiently prepared for the truly inevitable worst case scenarios, and continues to under-report the dangers of a burning nuclear facility to a public whose trust is rightly broken. It is very sad when it takes a tragedy to motivate humans to do the right thing that they had previously hoped to avoid because it wasn’t the most convenient for a short-term gain. God is not uncaring and the universe is very wise and good, but disasters are primed when humanity does not take the earlier benign indications for a safer future and instead keeps banking upon a mistake or failure never happening.

From financial bubbles bursting to naturally triggered disasters for which we can only speculate the preventability of damage had we been a more intuitively guided society, innocent loving people will continue to bear the brunt of nightmare scenarios to remind us that sustainability and harmony with divine principles called us to greater wisdom long ago, only we did not listen.

What comes up for me in contemplating all of this is precisely what you say above, in effect, that this was "an accident waiting to happen." Apparently we had to get to this point before starting to wake up in earnest to the dangers and insanity of this approach, especially when we already know there are safe, alternative energy sources that have been repressed due to financial interests. Can we afford to drag our heels on implementing those alternative sources any longer?

I'm reminded of these lines from Humpty-Dumpty in Lewis Carroll's Through The Looking-Glass:

'I said it very loud and clear:
I went and shouted in his ear.'

Humpty Dumpty raised his voice almost to a scream as he repeated this verse, and Alice thought with a shudder, 'I wouldn't have been the messenger for anything!'

The events of Japan are screaming loud and clear in our ear. And it is pushing us out of our comfort zone (to put it mildly). Hopefully we are being roused from somnolence into action. 'Action' can also mean simply doing what we can in our own sphere, including holding the vision of positive change.

As Daniel Jacob aptly says in his remarks on the events in Japan:

http://eternalgodliness.punt.nl/?id=541021&r=1

Who would have believed that it would be MOTHER NATURE, in the pangs of Her PLANETARY BIRTHING.......that would push us to the brink of HAVING TO DECIDE.........Do we continue our flirtation with this Dangerous and Wonderful Lover.......Nuclear Power........or do we take the "blue pill" and wake up in the morning, as if it was all a bad dream?

Jacob also makes the point that: "NUCLEAR refers to something that is going on at the very CENTER of a situation or a person." We are now facing the implications of nuclear power in a big way, and facing our core choice as a species: sustainability and thrival, or tragedy and unavoidable decline, as evidenced by the catastrophe in Japan.

The myth or fact of Atlantis is that a high civilization developed based upon incredible powers, but too many people given power were not in their hearts sufficiently advanced to be responsible for the blessing that is the God given opportunity to live and love together upon dear Mother Gaia. The Atlantean technology drew upon vast Earth energies in ways so elegant that we cannot now imagine, simply because many of the abilities of natural crystals to tap into geomagnetic and nuclear forces have been excised by the collective unconscious to prevent another Atlantean disaster. Today we use electronics based upon vibrating quartz crystals, silicon, and semiconductors precisely aligned down to the molecule, in order to summon electromagnetic and nuclear forces, so in essence we have reinvented the wheel again but with new devices.

What happened in Atlantis, as best as various people can remember across the thousands of years and lifetimes, is that rival groups abused the powers lent them to advance personal short-sighted gains, to the point of upsetting deep natural forces and triggering the earthquake and tsunami that cataclysmically destroyed and buried overnight that pinnacle of human civilization which included great arts and sciences of love and spirituality. The tragedy was so shocking to the evolution of humanity that, like Nazi Germany, it can never be forgotten; Atlantis is encoded in our DNA for us to remember and prevent from repeating. We have come perilously close, by the evils and ignorance of the 20th century that will continue to haunt us for generations on so many levels, and yet in the 11th hour we keep saving ourselves. Thus we must take heart and let God speed, for this time is deadly serious, and yet the hope of life and love beyond all threat is real.

The 9.0 magnitude quake of Japan is among the greatest in known history. The island of Japan is now 8 feet wider, with 250 miles of eastern coastline 2 feet lower. The Earth is shifted slightly on its axis and the day is slightly shorter. Precedents are few. In 1755, Lisbon in Portugal was destroyed utterly and suddenly by a massive offshore quake and tsunami that affected millions all along the coast of Europe. This came at a time of great Enlightenment thinking in Europe, and reactions were varied and extreme. Was God mercilessly cruel, what did it mean, how could this happen? Everyone must wrestle with their inner demons at a time of great wake-up call and choice. Because of the experience of Lisbon, French author Voltaire became disgusted by the optimism of German philosopher Gottfried Leibniz and famously ridiculed his view that "this is the best of all possible worlds", by describing a parade of horrors in Candide which are ever glossed over by the blindly faithful Dr. Pangloss.

The reference to the Lisbon disaster in 1755, its link to Candide and Voltaire's deriding of Leibniz' philosophy that "This is the best of all possible worlds", is very relevant. I was inspired to review my understanding of Liebniz at Wikipedia, here are a few excerpts:

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Gottfried_Leibniz

The Théodicée[21] tries to justify the apparent imperfections of the world by claiming that it is optimal among all possible worlds. It must be the best possible and most balanced world, because it was created by an all powerful and all knowing God, who would not choose to create an imperfect world if a better world could be known to him or possible to exist. In effect, apparent flaws that can be identified in this world must exist in every possible world, because otherwise God would have chosen to create the world that excluded those flaws...Leibniz then approached one of the central criticisms of Christian theism:[23] if God is all good, all wise and all powerful, how did evil come into the world? The answer (according to Leibniz) is that, while God is indeed unlimited in wisdom and power, his human creations, as creations, are limited both in their wisdom and in their will (power to act). This predisposes humans to false beliefs, wrong decisions and ineffective actions in the exercise of their free will. God does not arbitrarily inflict pain and suffering on humans; rather he permits both moral evil (sin) and physical evil (pain and suffering) as the necessary consequences of metaphysical evil (imperfection), as a means by which humans can identify and correct their erroneous decisions, and as a contrast to true good...The Theodicy was deemed illogical by the philosopher Bertrand Russell.[24] Russell points out that moral and physical evil must result from metaphysical evil (imperfection). But imperfection is merely finitude or limitation; if existence is good, as Leibniz maintains, then the mere existence of evil requires that evil also be good. In addition, Christian theology defines sin as not necessary but contingent, the result of free will. Russell maintains that Leibniz failed logically to show that metaphysical necessity (divine will) and human free will are not incompatible or contradictory.

I feel Bertrand Russell nails it here. Along these lines, another wise teacher, Adamus St. Germain channeled by Geoffrey Hoppe, postulates that "All is well in all of creation," which is in sync with the New Age aphorism that "It's all good." Another valued spirit teacher, Bashar channeled by Darryl Anka, recommends that we develop the habit of seeing all events as essentially neutral, containing no built-in meaning.

Bashar:
The meaning, the feelings, the reactions you have are already built within your consciousness, based on the definitions of life you have been taught. Learn the new habit of letting them go, and not automatically assuming that those definitions are definitions of an absolute reality, for there is no reality except the definition you give it, and that's what reality is. So learn the new habit, it will serve you, day to day, in practical and
pragmatic ways. And we will remind you of this as many times as is necessary for it to become a part of your daily behavior and personality, and when it is, I guarantee 100% you will see a difference in your lives. And you will see that you have more ability to determine exactly in what direction your lives ought to go and what it is you are capable of believing, that is possible for you. And also, simultaneously, in looking at circumstances neutrally, you will become more capable of understanding how it is you may be of assistance to others who may be caught up in their own definitions, and unable to see a way to break out of the situation and circumstance, and unable to understand that it is their own definitions that have made the circumstance seem so iron clad, when in fact it is made of nothing but tissue paper definitions.

Learn that reality is only the product of your strongest beliefs and that is the only thing that makes it seem so solid and so immutable in that sense. Transmute these things by changing your definitions, by changing your awareness. It does not necessarily mean that you have to see cosmic consequence in every thing that happens to you, though on one level, of course, there always is. But nevertheless, it will give you insight, like what you would call an x-ray vision, into the nature and structure of synchronicity and circumstance and will give more ability to understand how circumstance hinges upon the strongest definitions you have been taught to believe are true.

Yes, we hope for the best for Japan, while honoring the soul-choices of its inhabitants to experience these apocalyptic events echoing the story of Atlantis which is being excavated now, literally and figuratively. There is meaning and purpose in these events. Let us send care and compassion to all involved, and use the events constructively by staying aware of that meaning and purpose, while lifting our vision toward transcendence and renewal. In the words of George Santayana, "Those who do not learn from the past are condemned to repeat it."

When we see the good inside to which our souls were always committed, we make this the best of all possible worlds from which we have already entered the bliss of manifesting heaven.

Absolutely, and I agree that Anne Thomas' Letter From Sendai is a beautiful example of that.

Blessings to you Carl, and thank you for this exchange.
Jen

Book Review: End Your Story, Begin Your Life

2011-03-06T16:22:00.000-08:00

Review I wrote for Vibrance magazine:

In Jim Dreaver's new book End Your Story, Begin Your Life, he gives the key to
inner peace and eventual enlightenment: dis-identifying with the "stories"
that we think make us who and what we are. The basic practice, which keeps us grounded in our true state of being, is stepping back with our awareness. This reminder is given throughout the book in various forms, i.e.: "Do it now. Step back with your
awareness...Stay in this place of pure, witnessing awareness, and the story loses its power over you."

The litmus test of awakening or enlightenment, he asserts, is in how we deal with
life's difficult changes and challenges--what Hamlet referred to as "the slings
and arrows of outrageous fate." The mantra given in the book when facing such
difficulties is: "Ah, I welcome, or at least accept, the presence of this conflict in my life. It is showing me where I am not yet free." As an example, he relates his own experience of having three strokes within several months (which according to him, came out of the blue), each worse than the last. Rather than allowing himself to fall into fear, he was able to retain his stability and inner peace, as he knew himself as pure consciousness that is never born and never dies. Secure in this understanding, he was able to marshall his energies and focus them on his healing. The book itself is a
testament to his success.

In the chapter on love ("Each Day Becomes Rich In Love"), Dreaver also shares
his journey through pain and anger after his girlfriend left him for another man. She had lied to him about her affair, and he felt betrayed. But with time and focused
intention, he was able to let go of his story about her and their relationship. He moved on, having reached a state of peace, understanding and acceptance.

Our suffering becomes something useful to us, an "agenda for being present," as he puts it: "The power in adopting a truly welcoming attitude is that it indicates that you accept where you are right now. You may not like it but you accept it. Acceptance, in turn, brings an immediate relaxation, an ease of being and an allowing that may then open the door for the shift in perception called awakening."

Dreaver studied with the Advaita Vedanta teacher Jean Klein, who he frequently
refers to throughout the book. The ultimate teaching of this path is that there is
actually no individual "person" or independent self. "The psychological entity we take ourselves to be doesn't really exist, except as an idea, a story, a fictional creation between our ears. " According to this teaching, up until the age of two we were psychologically free; the "fall from grace" equates to identifying with and believing in our "self" and our stories (including our belief systems). Suffering drops away when we return to our natural state as pure consciousness; in that state, there is nothing in us to resist the flow of life, and there is literally no "person" that can suffer. It all comes down to freeing ourselves from duality and experiencing our Oneness on a deep level. He quotes Kunihiro Yamate on our oneness with all "others" who are "actually mirror reflections of our own self."

Indeed there is an "own self," an individual and distinctive self, albeit one that is in a state of constant change. I feel we can release attachment to the stories, while still experiencing them as real in their own right. That's part of what makes life interesting, I feel. At the same time, I agree that for many, perhaps most of us, the ego (the face we show the world) has become a "counterfeit self" and should never be taken as who we really are.

Jim Dreaver's vision is that connecting with our essence, through disidentifying with our stories and our egos, will ultimately lead to the much-prophesied shift from separation to unity consciousness, from conflict to peace, from fear to love. I fully agree with this perspective, and I am sure that those who embrace the teachings in the book will be among those leading the way in this transformation.

genie us

2011-02-18T01:53:00.000-08:00

http://www.reconnections.net/inner_genius.htm

As we bring this series to a close, one of the greatest keys to applying what has been discussed is remembering the illusory nature of the word “close.” In the Multiverse, nothing ever closes. We are always open... “24/7.” And all sensation, as all knowledge, is circular in nature. Spirals, actually... moving ever onward, with a kind of serpentine grace and precision.

We go through one cycle of learning, eagerly savoring the wisdom and joy which life experience can bring us. Then, we “graduate,” only to revisit that same area later, at a different level of consciousness and desire. Any appearance of an “end” is illusion - a perceptual tourniquet that serves to “tie off” our flow of knowledge in one area, so we can visit others without getting bogged down in detail.

In previous segments, I spoke about three commitments which a person can make, to greatly enhance his (or her) ability to meet and integrate Personal Genius. The first was “living in the moment.” The second was a commitment to “stay free,” so as to remain available to gather wisdom and direction from the universe. Now, I would like to speak about the third great commitment: “following the energy.”

INSPIRATION

Symbolically, it is quite fitting that the image of a serpent would be used to describe that sacred flow which moves through the mind and heart of a Genius. The energy moves quickly - first this way, then that - bobbing and weaving, just like a snake. It leaps forward, with cool intention, and then falls back, into periods of intense reflection. One never knows which way it will go next! And that’s just the point, isn’t it?

Part of the wonder of life is found in its amazing unpredictability. Forrest Gump described it as a box of chocolates. We just never know what we’re going to get. And yet, our human nature seems to compel us to categorize and strategize - doing everything in our power to keep from being caught off guard. But then, when something or someone actually DOES catch us unprepared, those memories are often the ones we treasure most.

The word “inspiration” literally means “to be filled with a spirit.” This is a concept that hasn’t gotten such good press in days past. Movies like “The Exorcist” stirred up fears, that dark and sullen forces that might capture us, and devour what’s left of our humanity and decency. But really, these are simply shadows, dancing against the illumination of our ever-expanding knowledge that we are ONE with everything and everyone.

To remain free, and to focus fully into our now moment is to lift our sails high, so the winds of possibility can catch hold of us, and take us on wild forays of mind, emotion, and experience. Sometimes, the breezes are gentle and the trip is short. At other times, we are spun and thrashed about by hurricanes of desire and visionary wonder! And, suddenly, we realize: “We just aren’t in Kansas anymore!”

Energy, however, takes many forms and carries with it many wondrous purposes. The words “still waters run deep” can definitely apply to a life of Personal Genius. Productivity or achievement is not always the measure of Personal Genius. We don’t always have to be doing or speaking in order to shine and glisten in the mind of the Oneself. The ability to sit still, and do absolutely nothing (artfully), can also be a gift of the Inner Genie.

Consider the lilies of the field, how they neither toil nor spin. They fret not, they worry not. And yet their presence illuminates the world, in ways that often defy description or imagination.

Channeling your life
My Spiritual Teachers, The Reconnections, have often used our channeling relationship as an illustration of how all of life can sing and dance for us, if we’re willing to let it.

In one of their Transmissions, they said to us:

“Declaring yourself to be a 'channel for Spirit' has less to do with technique, appearance and promotion than it has to do with willingness to stay focused within your seat on the Multidimensional Craft. When we speak about the 'Craft,' we are referring to the Now Moment in which you find yourself. The Now Moment is a Multidimensional Vehicle that can take you anywhere and anywhen you wish to go. The only thing you must remember is to keep your hands and feet inside the car!

Many of you have voices and actions that are jockeying to come through you every minute of your day. However, you are restraining and repressing those energies for fear of what your life will mean if you let them out. Some of this is quite appropriate, and some of it is all about fear.

What is needed, during this powerful time, is for humankind to let go of pre-existing concepts of what this new world will be, or what all of this is going to look like. There are no 'veterans' or 'professionals' for where humanity is now going. Even though you have made several ragged attempts at achieving what it is you are now seeking in your society, the peoples of the Earth have never come close to where it is you are heading now. You need to go forth into this blinding energy as babes... playmates in the sandbox of reformation and expansion.“

These words encapsulate for us everything I have been attempting to discuss, concerning the magical, marvelous beings that we call “Geniuses.” Going forth in life as BABES... playing, laughing, searching, touching, tasting. Oh yes! Tasting! With a young child, everything tends to go into the mouth, doesn’t it?

And what about you, when you read this? What do you think and feel about these concepts? Can you taste them? Are you willing to “swallow” what The Reconnections and I have brought to you in this series?

In a class once, I asked a group of people if they felt they could “buy” what I had shared with them that evening. One clever fellow smiled, and said: “I don’t know about buying, but I may be willing to lease it for a day or two, with an option to buy it later.” And I smiled. An honest answer, and a practical path to follow.

If we look at the word “pretend,” and break it down into its component parts, we see that it contains “pre,” which refers to something that “comes before” something else... and “tend,” which seems to suggest the idea of taking care of something. Isn’t that an amazing thought? TAKING CARE OF SOMETHING, BEFORE IT ARRIVES.

It was once written that: “Faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen.” In other words, one of the primary proofs that something exists is the fact that there is someone (or a whole group of someones) who have chosen to believe in it. Personal Genius is very much like that. If you are unwilling to embrace the idea that greatness can flow through you, then you can find a zillion ways to deflect it.

But if a soul can “pretend”... just for a moment... ONE LONG, NOW MOMENT... that he or she can be a channel for Spirit, for Inspiration, for Magnificence... then it can happen. Indeed, it WILL happen. This, I believe, is what my friend meant when we referred to “leasing, with an option to buy.”

And what will you be buying? Ultimately, you will be buying yourself. Indeed, you just may be BUYING YOURSELF BACK from the slavery of a mundane, repetitious (though seemingly safe) existence. To accomplish that, you will be SPENDING your time, your energy, and your vision on something. Why not make that something worthwhile?

These writings are not meant to be the “last word” on what it means to live from the divine. But for some, they could be the first words they have heard on the subject. They are meant to be suggestive only. The rest of the images and the dialogue belongs to each of you. This is your opera, your great novel, your ONE POEM (uni-verse) that will be your eternal gift to All That Is.

Do it with flair, do it with abandon, do it with pain, frustration, and HIGH DRAMA if that is what you prefer. Just do it! Do it now! After all, there is no other time frame in which Genius can or will play itself out.

Start something, let it flow, set it aside, let it glow. Every vision that is well begun is already half done. Don’t push, don’t rush, and please don’t hesitate. Just keep moving. Keep bobbing and weaving, like “Rocky” dancing in the ring! Your only opponent is self-doubt and false humility.

I’ll end with a favorite prayer that I once heard spoken, in the movie “Seventh Voyage of Sinbad.” It was an invocation, that called forth the genie (whose name was Barani) from the bottle that held him captive. Speak it with me, when you feel ready. I’m sure he is still listening.

“From the land beyond, beyond... from the world past hope and fear, I bid you Genie, now appear.” Now. Stand back, close your eyes... BELIEVE and speak your first wish.

© 2003 Daniel Jacob

Collaborating with Lao Tzu

2011-02-06T13:31:00.000-08:00

Tao Te Ching, Chapter 42

Lao Tzu:
The "parent of all teachings"
is that "the violent man will come to a violent end."

Jen:
First Cause, or "parent of all teachings",
is that what you put out is what you get back.

L.T:
The Tao begot one.
One begot two.
Two begot three.
And three begot the ten thousand things.

Jen:

Zero begot one, One begot Two, Two gave birth to Three.

Infinity and individuality, synthesized,
brought forth exponentially increasing expressions.
From this trinity came all else in existence.

LT:
The ten thousand things carry yin and embrace yang.
They achieve harmony by combining these forces.

Jen:
We and our world are a blend of opposing forces.
We find resolution and peace, inner and outer,
through balance and synthesis.

LT:
Men hate to be "orphaned," "widowed," or "worthless,"
But this is how kings and lords describe themselves.

Jen:
We have mastered ourselves and our world
when we understand the true riches are within.

LT:
For one gains by losing
And loses by gaining.

Jen

We gain by losing our identification
with things of the world,
and lose the real treasure
by increasing that identification.

LT:
What others teach, I also teach; that is:
"A violent man will die a violent death!"
This will be the essence of my teaching.

Jen:
As many sources have said
in different ways:
What we put out is what we get back.
This is the ultimate teaching.

No Time Nor Place

2011-01-21T22:16:00.000-08:00

I move through my mind,
the only place to go
when I need to unwind,
want to take it slow,

I can close my eyes
and see the swaying trees,
I can see the sun rise
over distant seas,

sometimes I'll see you
on the left or on the right,
mingling with gold or blue,
then you're gone from sight.

You're whispering there,
in the trees, in the grass,
your closeness everywhere,
a glimpse as you pass.

Just stay in one place,
give me a chance with you,
just to look in your face
is like a dance with you.

There's no map or chart
to show me where you are,
you're the wish of my heart
I will follow far,

through fields of pleasure,
toward a sea of grace,
where joy has no measure,
love no time nor place.

You're whispering there,
in the trees, in the grass,
your closeness everywhere,
a glimpse as you pass.

Cyber-Connecting

2011-01-12T20:49:00.000-08:00

spirit to spirit
we meet on computer screen...
inner senses bloom

Flight From Self in Kafka's The Trial

2010-12-19T02:32:00.000-08:00

In The Trial by Franz Kafka, Josef K. is put "on trial" for an unnamed offense. Prior to this, conflicts and inconvenient desires are ignored, festering under the bland surface of his rigid, routine existence, where even his visits to his mistress take place on the same day each week. The trial brings those conflicts out into the open.

K's plight worsens the more he shies away from taking responsibility for himself. He represses a strong feeling of guilt which emerges abruptly at decisive moments, while in court, he denies all guilt until the very end. To Miss Burstner he says: "Your room was thrown into disorder a bit this morning, through my fault to a certain extent--it was done by strangers, against my will, and yet, as I said, through my own fault." The "strangers" in question are the warders, who are whipped by the authorities following K's accusation, and he cries out, "I do not consider them to be guilty at all; it is the organization that is guilty, it is the high officials that are guilty." What is more, "it would have been almost simpler if K. had taken off his clothes and offered himself in place of the warders." And on the following day, he closes the door to the lumber room where they are being whipped, "hammering against it with his fists as if it would be shut tighter that way." His ultimate reaction to anything that doesn't fit his heretofore tidy, cloistered way of life is to deny and "shut the door" on it. He wants the lumber room cleaned out: "I tell you, we're being drowned in filth!" Conflicts, irrational incidents are experienced as overwhelming filth that must be thrown out, rather than faced and worked through.

Josef K. is very attracted to Miss Burstner, but is passive in relation to her. She has little "experience in legal matters", but she "would like to know everything, and legal matters, particularly, interest me very much. A court of justice has a particular attraction, don't you think?" She is "inordinately disappointed" that K. himself does not know what his prosecution is all about. The "court of justice" here represents the law of Josef K's inner being, or soul-self. Since he fears and in fact flees from that self, he is unable to have an truly intimate relationship with another person.

K.is in a rage at his arrest, but at the same time, he succumbs: "He harbored the intention...of offering himself up to them for arrest." He sees the situation as a "comedy", and at the same time, it gives rise to thoughts of suicide that recur throughout the novel.

His first impulse is to deny any wrongdoing, proclaiming that he has been falsely accused. He can only think of struggling against the forces threatening him. In the face of such external blows, he has not developed the kind of unassailable inner freedom and security that Kafka spoke of in Reflections on Sin, Suffering, Hope, and the True Way: "The fact that only one world of the spirit exists, takes hope from us and leaves us certainty."

K's conversation with the priest in the cathedral illustrates this concept of spiritual independence. They agree that his case is "going badly", and the priest asks him what he proposes to do about it. K's answer is: "I'm going to get more help...There are several possibilities I haven't explored yet." "You cast about too much for outside help," said the priest disapprovingly. "Don't you see it is the wrong kind of help?" K. then makes a derogatory remark about the character of the men in court, calling them "petticoat-hunters", and the priest loses patience: 'Can't you see even one pace in front of you?'...It was an angry cry, but at the same time sounded like the unwary shriek of one who sees another fall and is startled out of his senses." The priest then relates the parable "Before The Law." In this parable, there is the possibility that the man from the country can enter the door to the Law (which again, is his God-self, the Law of his Inner Being) after his death; what is more, he could have entered it during his lifetime, had he asked earlier for whom the entrance was actually intended, instead of waiting until he was at the point of death. Then he would have received the "redeeming message": the door was meant for him all along.

K., in plotting how to get "help", puts himself in the position of the man from the country pleading with the doorkeeper to let him in. As the man from the country is fixated on what he thinks of as the ultimate power of the doorkeeper, so K is fixated on the idea of getting help from others who he imagines to be "in the know", somehow more able than he to solve his problems. He has hopes that the priest will be able to help him: "...it was not impossible that K. could obtain decisive and acceptable counsel from him which might, for instance, point the way..." But at the end of their meeting the priest also identifies himself as a member of the Court, and once again K. is thrown back on himself.

K. comes to feel it is his "duty" to execute justice upon himself, but as he is never clear about the details of this, he is executed in a "play" put on by puppet-like "tenors" and "supernumerary actors." In the end, he is assailed with questions:

Like a sudden blaze of light, the casements of a window flashed open there; a human
being, faint and tenuous in the distance and at that elevation, suddenly leaned far forward and stretched his arms even farther out. Who was it? A friend? A good person? Someone who was concerned? Someone who wanted to help? Was it a single individual? Was it everybody?

Josef K. does not know the answer to these or the other questions raised by his trial; he has not attained certainty within himself. But, even as the man from the country in the parable "Before The Law" may be able to enter the door to the Law after his death--for the "portal of the Law is always open...always, that is, irrespective of the duration of life for the man for whom it is ordained, the doorkeeper will not be able to close it"--so too, perhaps, Josef K. may attain certainty after his death. He has made progress; he has been forced to look into himself, has learned that there are important questions, and he yearns to know the answers.

Walkin' in a Wonder/Wanderland

2010-12-06T23:53:00.000-08:00

Alice is a wonderer, a wanderer, seeking answers from dream figures who can only reflect her own confusion back to her. Loneliness follows her from place to place, from the Whiter Shade of Pale Rabbit to the heartless Queen of Hearts. "Who am I?" she asks. "What is this world?" Alice is All Us, and we are all mad here, all made here in the dream landscape, shrinking, growing, finally coming to know a little of our true power as we topple the playing-card house of our illusions, taking courage from the grin without a cat as we fly through the flame of a candle after it has gone out.

Alchemy of the Rock Star: the Rimbaud/Morrison Connection

2010-11-20T11:46:00.000-08:00

"I am Rimbaud in a leather jacket," proclaimed Jim Morrison, who once signed an autograph request, "Love, Arthur Rimbaud." (Rimbaud himself has been described as "a 19th century Jim Morrison.") Jim carried a copy of Wallace Fowlie's translations of Rimbaud with him on his travels with the legendary Doors band, and even took it upon himself to write Fowlie, who at the time didn't even know who he was, a thank-you note:

"Dear Wallace Fowlie,

Just wanted to say thanks for doing the Rimbaud translation. I needed it because I don't read French that easily...I am a rock star and your book travels around with me." He closed with: "That Picasso drawing of Rimbaud on the cover is great."

It has been conjectured that Jim's song "Wild Child" is about Rimbaud:

Wild child
Full of grace
Savior of the human race
your cool face

Natural child
Terrible child
Not your mother's or your
Father's child
You're our child
Screamin' wild

(You remember when we were
in Africa?)

The parenthetical last line is another clue that the song was indeed about Rimbaud, who spent the last period of his life in Africa, and suggests that Morrison felt he had been there with Rimbaud in another incarnation.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jWG74WSnuvQ

Yes, they both sought and opened themselves to wildness, valuing it far above comfort and security. As Rimbaud wrote in the famous Lettre du Voyant ("voyant" translates to "seer"):

"The Poet makes himself a Seer by a long, immense and rational derangement of all the senses...All the forms of love, suffering, and madness. He searches himself. He exhausts all poisons in himself and keeps only their quintessences."

This echoes William Blake's "The road of excess leads to the palace of wisdom," one of the Proverbs of Hell in The Marriage of Heaven and Hell, which has been recognized as a great alchemical text. Similarly, Anais Nin said: "Something is always born of excess: great art is born of great terrors, great loneliness, great inhibition, instabilities and it always balances them." Drugs and alcohol are, of course, one "road" of excess. The deep green siren song of absinthe was Rimbaud's intoxicant of choice, especially in the company of the poet Verlaine. "Knowing pilgrims, seek repose/By the emerald pillars of Absinthe," wrote Rimbaud in "Comedy of Thirst." Jim's pursuit of altered states was similarly intense, and his first songs were born, prior to the formation of the Doors band, when he was living on a rooftop in Venice Beach, subsisting on a diet of LSD and not much else; his pursuit of altered states through drugs and alcohol continued unabated up to his passing at age 27.

Rimbaud writes in the Lettre that the goal of the Seer's journey is to arrive at the unknown; to become as a god, responsible for humanity, "even the animals." Jim was often called "the Dionysus of Rock." Dionysus, the Greek god of ecstasy, has been pictured both as a beautiful youth and as an older, bearded man; Jim appeared in both guises in his brief life. In the philosophy of Nietzsche, the Dionysian principle is of creative-intuitive power as opposed to the Apollonian principle of critical-rational power. Thus, Dionysus is the god of intoxication, celebration, creativity, ecstasy, catharsis, release.

Jim/Dionysus: "Music is so erotic. One of its functions is a purgation of emotion, which we see every night when we play. To call our music 'orgasmic' means we can move people to a kind of emotional orgasm through music and words...Think of it as a seance in an environment which has become hostile to life, cold, restrictive. People feel like they're dying in a bad landscape. So they gather together in a seance to invoke, palliate, and drive away the dead spirits through chanting, singing, dancing, music. They [the shamans] try to cure an illness, to restore harmony to the world."
- from Jim Morrison: Life, Death, Legend by Stephen Davis

Rimbaud further says in the Lettre that the Seer is to invent a new "universal language of the soul": "...he must see to it that his inventions can be smelt, felt, heard...this new language would be of the soul, for the soul, containing everything, smells, sounds, colors, thought latching on to thought and pulling..." This seems apropos, from an article by the rock critic Paul Williams in
Crawdaddy!: "Rock, because of the number of senses it can get to (on a dance floor, eyes, ears, nose, mouth, and tactile) and the extent to which it can pervade these senses, is really the most advanced art form we have."

Rimbaud, a century before rock came on the scene, saw that this "universal language of the soul" would be conveyed through new forms of poetry, somehow tied up with magic and alchemy. From his poem "Alchemy of the Word":

I invented the colour of vowels! - A black, E white, I red, O blue, U green. - I regulated the form and movement of each consonant, and, with instinctive rhythms, I flattered myself by inventing a poetic speech accessible, some day or other, to all the senses. I reserved translation rights.

Two For Infinite Tea

2010-11-05T21:50:00.000-07:00

Infinite tea for two
and two for infinite tea
and infinite me for you
and infinite you for me

when infinite skies are gray
and you're feeling infinite blue,
infinite tea makes the infinite sun
come smiling infinitely through.

So have a seat, put up your feet,
and I will pour
more and more and more and more
infinite tea for infinite you and me!

Transcript - Jon Stewart's Speech

2010-10-31T13:51:00.000-07:00

Jon Stewart's closing words at the Rally to Restore Sanity or Fear.

(((applause)))

http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2010/10/30/rally-to-restore-sanity-huffington-post-_n_776541.html

“I can’t control what people think this was. I can only tell you my intentions. This was not a rally to ridicule people of faith or people of activism or to look down our noses at the heartland or passionate argument or to suggest that times are not difficult and that we have nothing to fear. They are and we do. But we live now in hard times, not end times. And we can have animus and not be enemies.

But unfortunately one of our main tools in delineating the two broke. The country’s 24 hour political pundit perpetual panic conflictinator did not cause our problems but its existence makes solving them that much harder. The press can hold its magnifying up to our problems bringing them into focus, illuminating issues heretofore unseen or they can use that magnifying glass to light ants on fire and then perhaps host a week of shows on the sudden, unexpected dangerous flaming ant epidemic.

If we amplify everything we hear nothing. There are terrorists and racists and Stalinists and theocrats but those are titles that must be earned. You must have the resume. Not being able to distinguish between real racists and Tea Partiers or real bigots and Juan Williams and Rick Sanchez is an insult, not only to those people but to the racists themselves who have put in the exhausting effort it takes to hate--just as the inability to distinguish terrorists from Muslims makes us less safe not more. The press is our immune system. If we overreact to everything we actually get sicker--and perhaps eczema.

And yet, with that being said, I feel good—strangely, calmly good. Because the image of Americans that is reflected back to us by our political and media process is false. It is us through a fun house mirror, and not the good kind that makes you look slim in the waist and maybe taller, but the kind where you have a giant forehead and an ass shaped like a month old pumpkin and one eyeball.

So, why would we work together? Why would you reach across the aisle to a pumpkin assed forehead eyeball monster? If the picture of us were true, of course, our inability to solve problems would actually be quite sane and reasonable. Why would you work with Marxists actively subverting our Constitution or racists and homophobes who see no one’s humanity but their own? We hear every damn day about how fragile our country is—on the brink of catastrophe—torn by polarizing hate and how it’s a shame that we can’t work together to get things done, but the truth is we do. We work together to get things done every damn day!

The only place we don’t is here or on cable TV. But Americans don’t live here or on cable TV. Where we live our values and principles form the foundations that sustains us while we get things done, not the barriers that prevent us from getting things done. Most Americans don’t live their lives solely as Democrats, Republicans, liberals or conservatives. Americans live their lives more as people that are just a little bit late for something they have to do—often something that they do not want to do—but they do it--impossible things every day that are only made possible by the little reasonable compromises that we all make.

Look on the screen. This is where we are. This is who we are. (points to the Jumbotron screen which show traffic merging into a tunnel). These cars—that’s a schoolteacher who probably thinks his taxes are too high. He’s going to work. There’s another car-a woman with two small kids who can’t really think about anything else right now. There’s another car, swinging, I don’t even know if you can see it—the lady’s in the NRA and she loves Oprah. There’s another car—an investment banker, gay, also likes Oprah. Another car’s a Latino carpenter. Another car a fundamentalist vacuum salesman. Atheist obstetrician. Mormon Jay-Z fan. But this is us. Every one of the cars that you see is filled with individuals of strong belief and principles they hold dear—often principles and beliefs in direct opposition to their fellow travelers.

And yet these millions of cars must somehow find a way to squeeze one by one into a mile long 30 foot wide tunnel carved underneath a mighty river. Carved, by the way, by people who I’m sure had their differences. And they do it. Concession by conscession. You go. Then I’ll go. You go. Then I’ll go. You go then I’ll go. Oh my God, is that an NRA sticker on your car? Is that an Obama sticker on your car? Well, that’s okay—you go and then I’ll go.

And sure, at some point there will be a selfish jerk who zips up the shoulder and cuts in at the last minute, but that individual is rare and he is scorned and not hired as an analyst.

Because we know instinctively as a people that if we are to get through the darkness and back into the light we have to work together. And the truth is, there will always be darkness. And sometimes the light at the end of the tunnel isn’t the promised land. Sometimes it’s just New Jersey. But we do it anyway, together.

If you want to know why I’m here and want I want from you, I can only assure you this: you have already given it to me. Your presence was what I wanted.

Sanity will always be and has always been in the eye of the beholder. To see you here today and the kind of people that you are has restored mine. Thank you."

Metaphysics on Memory Lane

2010-10-29T15:06:00.000-07:00

I just spent a couple of days visiting an old friend from childhood,who is married, has five daughters, one grandchild and another on the way. During the visit we talked a lot as we walked around our old hometown on a trip down memory lane. Along with reminiscing about our school days, we shared our religious/ spiritual beliefs. I told her about my study of how we create our own reality, and brought up the Bible quote: "It is done unto you as you believe." I asked her what she thought that meant. She hesitated a bit and said, "If you believe you'll go to heaven then you will." I replied: "But that's not what Jesus was saying. He said, IT is done unto you as you believe. 'It' can mean anything, including going to heaven." I told her about Victor Zammit's site: http://www.victorzammit.com/
"This lawyer has accumulated evidence of the afterlife, and he found out through mediumship that there are those who are still convinced there is no life after death even after they've passed on!"
We laughed at that, agreed they would probably come around to understanding their true state at some point, and the conversation moved on to other things. A couple of times later during our visit she brought up the topic of belief and reality creation; I got the feeling she was intrigued.

She wants me to read the Book of Mormon (she and her husband are devout Mormons). I said I would but made it clear I wouldn't convert since I prefer to be non-denominational, that I'd share my honest impressions, and she agreed. I think this could become a productive discussion; it's fun to share differing points of view, when we are open to the differences and not expecting others to see things as we do.

The Summer of my Grief

2010-10-14T00:57:00.000-07:00

I have a photo of myself, Stevie and his little brother Scotty, my three brothers and my sister, taken on the lawn of a local park in the town where my siblings and I grew up. At 12, I was the oldest, and as if in practice for motherhood, I'm cradling Scotty on my lap as he smiles up at me, mirroring my own big grin. Stevie, 9 or 10, brings up the rear, holding a baseball bat; he looks ready for a game. Stevie's parents were caring for us at our home at that time while our parents were traveling in Europe, and all was going well. Our shining faces in the photo were a testament to that.

But then all of us kids got sick with a virus. One night I was in the bathroom, bent over the toilet, feeling like I was obliterating part of myself as I expunged the poison of sickness. I wanted only to be alone in this purging, and when Stevie's mom came in, the picture of alarm and concern, I yelled at her to go away. The next day she said, her face still showing her hurt and puzzlement: "I was only trying to help you!" I didn't know how to explain my discomfort at throwing up in front of someone. If I could go back in time, I'd respond differently: "I know you were. Thank you, and I'm sorry I was rude."

Stevie was sicker than any of us. I kept vigil with him and his distraught mother, who spooned food in his mouth as he lay unconscious in bed. I asked, "How can he swallow if he's not awake?"

"It's automatic, " she replied. I felt her anxiety, her helplessness, and I was moved by the poignant softness and innocence in Stevie's heavy-lidded closed eyes, his open, unresisting mouth, his obedient swallowing. I was reminded of my own closed eyes and open, receptive mouth as I knelt at the altar, receiving the Holy Communion wafer. I felt the retreat of Stevie's spirit to a holy place, a place we could not go.

The night I learned he had passed, I became acquainted with grief; I threw myself on my bed, and I felt, like Alice in the dark hall of aloneness and confusion, that I was crying and swimming in a pool of tears.

The next day, a couple who were also close family friends, and who knew Stevie's parents, came by to offer their support. I saw them just outside my bedroom window and called out hello. My voice was probably weak, coming from the small, frightened, overwhelmed part of me, and when they didn't respond or turn around, I assumed, in my sensitivity, that they were ignoring me.
I went to Stevie's mother, confiding my hurt, and in the throes of her overwhelming loss and grief, she had the compassion and patience to reassure me: "No, they just didn't hear. They would not have ignored you."

Our parents came home, and we were happy to see them. Stevie's funeral was held shortly after. Neither I nor my siblings were invited; I guess it was assumed we had been privy to enough already. Afterward, my mother remarked, with distress and a bit of bewilderment, that she had "never heard a woman cry so" as Stevie's mother had at the sight of her son's lifeless body.

For a long time I felt guilt about Stevie's death, assuming he would not have died if his parents hadn't agreed to come and stay with us, thus exposing him to a virus. Only in the last couple of years have I realized that there had to be other factors that led to his death, besides a passing virus. What they were, I still don't know.

I would look at Stevie's mother sadly when when our families got together in the ensuing years, my unspoken feelings clamoring for a voice I could not give them. Only now can I write of of how Stevie's face pierced my heart as he hovered in the twilight zone between life and death, and of how, at the same time, I can still see his face beaming bright as the sun, as he ran and played with us in those happy summer days.

Rainmakers

2010-08-23T09:53:00.000-07:00

Now at last the rains have come!
We hear and feel the thrum
from our under-sand abode,
and we emerge, horns quivering,
glorying in the sublime wetness,
the pouring down of Love,
the blessing, the manna
from above.

Time to celebrate,
time for a bacchanal!
For we who have so long abstained,
even decomposing plants
are an imposing meal,
and the hundreds of eggs,
progeny of our transcendent couplings,
must become the geniuses and saints
of our species.

When the clouds clear, we know
our party's end is near.
Nibbling the plants we've learned
will extend our ecstasy,
we slither through the lingering damp,
our own tribal dance
under the singing stars,
the moon's radiant face.
Come morning, we are back in place,
hunkered down underground
and moving into the long sleep,
cocooned in the womb of darkness,
safe from the relentless sun.

We, the sacred snails,
are the rainmakers
of the desert.
To you, our sleeping life
may seem a living death,
but our dreams of blessed water
go forth into the Field
from which all emerges,
seeding the clouds
with our visions,
birthing into righteous rain
for all flowing, growing things.
Awake or asleep, we live our dreams.
Death? We do not fear it,
we know that we live on in Love,
born again of water and the spirit.

The Owlet Speaks

2010-08-23T09:50:00.000-07:00

each moment new you
each moment you new

each moment, who you?
each moment, you who?

new who?
who new?

WHO? WHO?

The Lost Bee

2010-07-09T01:24:00.000-07:00

Bees are generally unwelcome guests in the home, and I wasn't too happy when a bee buzzed through the open kitchen window one fine day last summer. My first thought, in fact, was: "How am I going to get it out of here?"

It was bumbling around in a confused manner as it lit here and there, as if trying to get a grip and find a resting place. But of course my white kitchen walls are no place for a bee.

I was reminded of what I had read about the bees' "colony collapse" which had been in the news as a topic of much speculation, and it occurred to me that this little buzzer was perhaps a casualty.

This beekeeper makes a convincing case for a new class of pesticides as the culprit in colony collapse:

http://www.guardian.co.uk/environment/2008/may/31/animalwelfare.environment

“Hackenberg...began his own investigations into what killed 2,000 of his honeybees at the end of 2006, by talking to growers and reading up on pesticide use and research into their effects on bees. 'It’s those new neonicotinoid pesticides that growers are using,' he says. 'That’s what’s messing up the bees’ navigation system so they can’t find their way home.'"

The article goes on to say that these pesticides act as neurotoxins that "interfere with the bees' communication and orientation skills, and also impair memory." And they are used all over: "...from sunflower fields to apple orchards, lawns to golf courses."

The wandering bee in my kitchen brought all of that "home" to me. I can certainly imagine how distressing it would be for me, and for most of us, if we found ourselves adrift and alone, without any memory of the way home, or any resources for finding out how to get there.

The honeybee is part of a hive; they're not meant to be loners. They are perhaps the ultimate example of cooperative living. This is their nature, and to lose their bee family and all that goes with it, must be the very definition of "cruel and unusual punishment."

I did manage to coax the bee out the window again. For a while it was hanging around among the plants in my window box, and I was half hoping I had a permanent resident bee in there, but it's long gone now. I pray that it found its way back home.

The incident stayed with me, and started a train of thought about the broader implications and symbolism of the bees' plight. In particular, as a word person, I pondered the connotations of "be" and "being."

"To be or not to be, that is the question," soliloquized Hamlet. It's quite clear, in
context, that he was speaking of the choice between life and death. But in another sense, life and death can be considered a continuum, and one can be alive but not really living. How many of us are truly BEING our true selves? How many of us are
truly "at home" in the world?

Many, perhaps most of us, are spiritually homeless. Collectively, we've become cut off from our Source, our inner Being--we've forgotten how to "be"--and are bumbling around on a confused and jumbled course. In the deepest sense, we are rootless.

The lost bee, having been toxified, intoxicated, is unable to find its way back to that place of belonging and connectedness with its God-self (Queen Bee) and its industrious fellow bees. And this is the situation we find ourselves in now. It need hardly be said that the pesticides are bad for us, too, and like the poor bees that are trundled for thousands of miles around the country by their keepers from one pollination job to another, "the world is too much with us," and our way of life is stressful and unnatural. It is time to go within and connect with our true BEING. And we can start by opening to thinking and living in new ways. Then we realize that in poisoning and manipulating the bees and other life forms, we are doing the same to ourselves, because of the interconnectedness of all life. We are human, animal, insect, plant, mineral--we are all of it.

As we have been poisoning the natural world, so have we been poisoning and clogging our true natural selves. Maybe now we've learned all we can from this way of life and it's time to leave it behind. Let us, individually and collectively, connect with that Self. Let us learn to work with Nature again, and with our own nature, our inner Being. This is the end of the illusion of separation.

Eating Cake and Having Your Health Too

2010-05-03T10:50:00.000-07:00

The phrase "You can't have your cake and eat it too" has always been a bit of a brain-twister to me. I like comedian George Carlin's take on it: "When people say, 'Oh you just want to have your cake and eat it too.' What good is a cake you can't eat? What should I eat, someone else's cake instead?"

For me, as one who is very nutrition-conscious, the phrase brings up the health aspect: you can't eat your cake (which is almost always made with refined sugar and flour) and have your health too, certainly not if you make this a regular habit. See:

http://nancyappleton.com/141-reasons-sugar-ruins-your-health/

These days, my refined sugar intake is close to zero, although I grew up sugar-addicted and still have a major sweet tooth, which I satisfy with healthful alternatives.

"Hidden sugars" are omnipresent in many processed foods, so it's important to read
labels. Aside from sucrose (white sugar), there's glucose, fructose, corn syrup, corn syrup solids, corn sweetener, high-fructose corn syrup, dextrose or maltodextrin, barley malt, and rice syrup. Artificial sweeteners like aspartame, saccharine, and sucralose (Splenda) aren't the answer--many studies have confirmed their toxicity.
Agave syrup, which has been sold as a healthy, natural low-glycemic sweetener, is in actuality a highly refined product, no better than high fructose corn syrup.

But take heart, there are indeed healthful sweeteners available: organic, unheated honey, the herb stevia, blackstrap molasses, dried unrefined cane juice, organic maple syrup, fresh fruit juices, and xylitol. Any of these are fine when used in moderation as part of a balanced whole foods diet and a health style that includes exercise and stress management, but the two that in my opinion offer the most health benefits are blackstrap molasses and xylitol.

The high iron, mineral and vitamin B content of blackstrap molasses puts it up there in the category of superfoods. Take a look at all the testimonials here:
http://www.healthdiaries.com/eatthis/blackstrap-molasses.html

From the beauty angle, blackstrap is one of the best foods for hair health, and some have found that when taken regularly, gray hair returns to its natural color.

I'm currently abstaining from coffee, but previously I found blackstrap complemented it rather nicely. It can be taken on its own by the spoonful, or mixed in water, milk or yogurt. In Adelle Davis' classic book Let's Cook It Right, there are a number of recipes calling for "dark molasses," such as the one for butterscotch brownies (a winner!) where blackstrap could be used.

In general though, I suspect that most would find blackstrap difficult to use
as a sweetener because of its strong taste. But xylitol is something else--it looks and tastes so much like the white stuff we are so in the habit of using, it's been called refined sugar's "mirror image":

http://mizar5.com/xylitolsalvation.html

Although xylitol tastes and looks exactly like sugar, that is where the similarities end. Xylitol is really sugar's mirror image. While sugar wreaks havoc on the body, xylitol heals and repairs. It also builds immunity, protects against chronic degenerative disease, and has anti-aging benefits. Xylitol is considered a five-carbon sugar, which means it is an antimicrobial, preventing the growth of bacteria. While sugar is acid-forming, xylitol is alkaline enhancing. All other forms of sugar, including sorbitol, another popular alternative sweetener, are six-carbon sugars, which feed dangerous bacteria and fungi.

And here's a summary of benefits from another article on xylitol:
http://www.vrp.com/articles.aspx?page=LIST&ProdID=673&qid=&zTYPE=2

Summary of Benefits
Xylitol is a sweet-tasting sugar substitute that has been approved for use in more than 35 countries. Consumption of xylitol is associated with a significant reduction in tooth decay, resulting in fewer cavities and resolution of periodontal disease. Xylitol has been shown to contribute to increased bone density, weight loss, stabilization of blood sugar and lowering of insulin levels. Additional benefits include:

• Increases energy by enhancing ATP production
• Increases utilization of fat
• Replenishes glycogen
• Anabolic — keeps biosynthetic pathways open
• Anticatabolic —helps maintain lean muscle mass
• Antioxidant —generates NADPH, keeping glutathione in an active state
• Increases endurance
• Reduces free radical and oxidative damage

And as if all these benefits weren't enough, research has also indicated it helps prevent aging of the skin--another example of xylitol as the "mirror image" of refined sugar, which has been shown to promote aging of the skin, through the process known as glycosylation.

Most commercially produced xylitol is derived from either birch bark or corn. From its name, many assume it must be an artificial chemical concoction, but it occurs naturally in the fibers of many fruits and vegetables.

I look forward to the day when xylitol, stevia and blackstrap molasses, like white sugar and other processed foods, can easily be obtained at regular grocery stores. For now, they are mostly found in the natural foods and supplement stores. They are safe for diabetics, who ought to use other sweeteners with caution, or not at all.

Xylitol can be used in recipes 1 to 1 as a sugar replacement. It can't be used in making yeast breads because it won't feed the yeast to make it rise. There are xylitol mints and chewing gum available. I don't care for gum; I mostly use xylitol in tea and take small amounts from a bottle I carry with me when I'm out, enjoying the feeling that I'm benefiting my teeth with the sweet stuff. But cheesecake is my cake of choice; I look forward to making it with xylitol and enjoying it on occasion, knowing I can indeed have cake and my health too!

Two New Haiku

2010-02-17T19:14:00.000-08:00

sliver of crescent moon
glowing white on indigo--
grin without a cat

ghosts in night fog,
fires burning in the distance--
magic in the air

We Are The Saviors We've Been Waiting For

2010-01-17T22:23:00.001-08:00

When President Obama was still on the campaign trail in October 2008, he said at the Al E. Smith dinner hosting both candidates: “Contrary to the rumors you’ve heard, I was not born in a manger. I was actually born on Krypton, sent here by my father Jor-El, to save the planet Earth.”

Of course his remark was a joke, in keeping with the Al E. Smith political roast tradition. It seems, though, that many who previously supported him and helped vote him into office, did indeed see him as a 'saviour'--this in spite of his statement, repeated throughout his campaign: "We are the people we've been waiting for. We are the change we seek." In a similar vein, he said: "I ask you to believe in your own capacity to effect change as well as my own," and: "Together we will heal this nation and transform the world."

Shortly after he was elected, an online acquaintance observed: "I can see people getting pissed and fed up if Obama fails to make the miracles people expect of him.
People nowadays have the patience of a 50-minute sitcom. If they don't get instant results, they give up. I see it every day in my divorce law practice." His words were prophetic. Reading the invective in some of the articles attacking him, I can't avoid the feeling that their authors' expectations of Obama are unrealistic. Of course, there is the mess Obama inherited when he took office, and the fact that Presidents are constrained in their power to implement agendas, even those they themselves would prefer. But over and above these concerns, the expectation of a perfect president or 'savior' of any kind is rooted in a denial of one's own power and responsibility. Then those denied characteristics are projected onto others, who inevitably disappoint. Most of us are still stuck in the concept that someone other than ourselves is responsible for our current state of being. So when elected officials such as Obama don't "make the grade" in our view, we feel angry and let down.

In Robert Fritz's book, The Path of Least Resistance, he proposes "fundamental choice" as the basis of our experience. He gives the example of making the choice to be a smoker or a nonsmoker. Without making the fundamental choice to quit smoking, we won't succeed in doing so. In this state, which Fritz calls the " reactive/responsive" orientation, we are not in touch with our own creative power, and so we default on that power, putting trust in others or in circumstances rather than in the self.

In the orientation of the creative, it's the other way around--trust is put in the creative powers of the self primarily. We become self-directed, consciously choosing what we want to do and be in life.

Now is the time, more than ever, to exercise our choice-making and visionary capacities. Each one who holds the vision of positive change--even, or especially, in difficult times--empowers that vision and possibility.

Carlos Barrios, a Mayan elder, has spoken of his vision in the context of discussing the years leading up to 2012--a year which many, including his ancestors, have pinpointed as a crucial turning point in our evolution. In the October 2002 issue of the Chiron Communique, he called for us to "put our entire heart into unity and fusion now." This makes possible the transcendence of our differences: "No more darkness and light in the people, but an uplifted fusion." He concludes that the greatest wisdom is in simplicity: "Love, respect, tolerance, sharing, gratitude, forgiveness. It’s not complex or elaborate. The real knowledge is free...all you need is within you. Great teachers have said that from the beginning. Find your heart, and you will find your way."

Each of us can make the heart-centered choice for this world-vision of peace, unity and fusion--a new era of cooperation rather than conflict, equally serving both the self and others--and we all can make a real difference and help to manifest that vision, simply by going within, experiencing our wholeness, and expressing that in our here-and-now, day-to-day lives.

As Krishnamurti taught: "You are the world...You are the observer and the observed, the analyzer and the thing analyzed." And, physicist John Wheeler: "There's no 'out there' out there." Thus, we are our governments, which ultimately are only a reflection of our perception. This is in line with the whole concept of "you create your own reality," which can also be understood as "what you put out is what you get back." It comes down to our beliefs, thoughts and feelings primarily, which we see reflected in the world around us. When we understand this at a gut level, not just intellectually, it is a whole new paradigm shift for many--from being other-directed to inner-directed.

I would perhaps rephrase Krishnamurti: "You are your world." Dr. Ihaleakala Hew Len cured a ward of criminally insane patients by, as he said, "healing the part of me that created them." So is he a savior? I see him more as an example to inspire us and show us what is possible when we make such a shift.

In short, our leaders, the state of the union, and of the world, can only reflect
our inner state, individually and collectively. As an example, we may rail against war, but have we ended our own inner and outer wars, our blaming, our desire to quash an opponent? Are we willing to listen, cooperate, and take responsibility? Is our focus on loving peace or on hating war? We need to be conscious of the energies we are putting out into the world--for they will surely come back to us. As a small but wise being said: "We have seen the enemy and he is us."

Obama's Inaugural Address may be up for class review.
Here are a few relevant selections:

"...as much as government can do and must do, it is ultimately the faith and determination of the American people upon which this nation relies."

"That we are in the midst of crisis is well understood. Our nation is at war, against a far-reaching network of violence and hatred. Our economy is badly weakened, a consequence of greed and irresponsibility on the part of some, but also our collective failure to make hard choices and prepare the nation for a new age." (Emphasis mine.)

"We remain a young nation, but in the words of Scripture, the time has come to set aside childish things."

Faith--determination--making fundamental choices (I think that's what is meant by "hard" choices). Accepting our spiritual maturity--understanding that, as the science of the quantum has shown, we are the creative source of our lives and our world. Taking responsibility, rather than pointing the finger of blame. That's what I'm talking about!

I can't help wondering how Obama feels about the sometimes vituperative criticism directed at him. I suspect he can relate to the words of his chosen Presidential role model, Lincoln:

"If I were to try to read, much less answer, all the attacks made on me, this shop might as well be closed for any other business. I do the very best I know how - the very best I can; and I mean to keep doing so until the end. If the end brings me out all right, what's said against me won't amount to anything. If the end brings me out wrong, ten angels swearing I was right would make no difference."

Obama has found inspiration in Lincoln's 1862 message to Congress:

"The dogmas of the quiet past are inadequate to the stormy present. The occasion is piled high with difficulty, and we must rise with the occasion. As our case is new, so we must think anew and act anew. We must disenthrall ourselves and then we shall save our country."

Similarly, Obama said, when he introduced the members of his economic team: "This isn't about big government or small government. It's about building a smarter government that focuses on what works. That's why I will ask my team to think anew and act anew to meet our new challenges."

Lincoln's words are also echoed in this from Obama's Inaugural Address:

"On this day, we come to proclaim an end to the petty grievances and false promises, the recriminations and worn-out dogmas that for far too long have strangled our politics."

It seems, however, that Obama's team-mates--and that includes "we the people" as well as his consultants--haven't been up to the challenge of true change. Paradoxically, perhaps we've been trying too hard. It's not the American way in general, but there are times when the best action is inward and reflective, providing the space for new insights, rather than straining and striving to effect outer change. In any case, our vision of change has to come from within us. No one else can hand it to us. It is "time to put away childish things"--and time for us to become our own leaders.

My interest was caught by the word "disenthrall" in the line, "We must disenthrall ourselves," from Lincoln's message to Congress. I had never heard nor read it previously. In fact, I had to look it up. Merriam-Webster's definition:"to free from bondage, liberate." And, the Answers.com dictionary defines it as, "to free from a controlling force or influence." Lincoln was saying we must free ourselves, and then we would save our country.

What is that controlling force or influence? I would say it's the tendency for our thinking to stay firmly in the box of mainstream consciousness, wherein dreams and imagination are at the bottom of our priorities.

We need to get back in touch with the natural world, and with our own nature. We need to regain what Wordsworth called our "visionary gleam"--our dreams for ourselves and the world, our Godhood, our intuition. Therein lies our salvation and our freedom.

Our founding fathers designed the template of freedom and equality as the direction
for our country. They proposed that this was our right. As President, Lincoln ended the practice of slavery and made freedom a law, with the objective of unifying the country. But he understood that we could not be truly free, nor experience true change, until we individually choose that freedom and make it a reality for ourselves--thinking and acting in new ways.

And perhaps this is what Obama meant also in the concluding words of his Inaugural Address: "Let it be said by our children's children that when we were tested we refused to let this journey end, that we did not turn back nor did we falter; and with eyes fixed on the horizon and God's grace upon us, we carried forth that great gift of freedom and delivered it safely to future generations."

As I hope is clear by now, this essay is less about Obama (or any other person upon whom we project our own authority) than it is about our willingness to disenthrall ourselves--breaking the bonds of our fears and self-imposed limitations. In so doing, we plant the seeds of ever-expanding freedom and positive change for future generations. We become visionary creators, rather than waiting for someone else to create for us. We are indeed the pioneers, if we accept that role. We are the saviors we've been waiting for.

Song of Divinity

2009-10-03T21:20:00.000-07:00

Dear one, I am here for you,
I'm in your heart.
Dear one, while I wait for you,
you're with me now.
My love for you
is my strength, my life,
my love for you
will never die, my
love, love, love, love,
love, love, love.

Love is a Song...

2009-09-25T16:33:00.001-07:00

Wrote this for a contest put on by an online magazine on the topic
of long-distance relationships. Nothing has come of it so far--it seems
the contest was to draw publicity for the magazine, which had not actually
been launched. Not sorry I wrote it, though. And at least there wasn't an
entry fee!

SONG-DISTANCE RELATIONSHIPS

Love is a song, just as implied in the cliche about lovers "making beautiful music together."
When we first fall in love, that song is strong and indeed beautiful, echoing
through our hearts. It's a transforming experience, and as we perceive
the essence of the beloved, we feel far more in touch with our own essence, or soul.

But what often happens is that we think we need the other to be and act
a certain way to "hear" this music and feel the feelings. And most of us take
it for granted that we need to be physically with the other for the song's
continuance. What we need to realize is that the song is in us, the love is in our
hearts, and separation is an illusion. To our five-sensory selves, this seems
ridiculous, but not to the quantum physicists such as John A. Wheeler, who said: "There's
no out there out there."

Excerpted from The Holographic Universe by Michael Talbot:

In 1982 a remarkable event took place. At the University of Paris a research team led by physicist Alain Aspect performed what may turn out to be one of the most important experiments of the 20th century.
You did not hear about it on the evening news. In fact, unless you are in the habit of reading scientific journals you probably have never even heard Aspect's name, though there are some who believe his discovery may change the face of science.

Aspect and his team discovered that under certain circumstances subatomic particles such as electrons are able to instantaneously communicate with each other regardless of the distance separating them. It doesn't matter whether they are 10 feet or 10 billion miles apart.

This phenomenon is called "non-locality." As it relates to affairs of the heart, it also means
that we are always in communication, always inwardly connected. In fact, my all-time
favorite book about love relationships, by Carol K. Anthony, is titled Love, an Inner
Connection. She makes the point that in a true love relationship, the two are able to
feel the connection even when they are thousands of miles apart. When we no longer
feel this, it is because we have allowed doubts, fears, and other manifestations of the ego
to get in the way. Love and ego dominance just don't mix. Unfortunately, love is
particularly subject to control by the ego, or as it is sometimes called, false personality.
"The love relationship, of all relationships, is the most threatening to the ego pride
system," writes Anthony. "It is, therefore, vulnerable to the ego's attempts to control it. For that reason, and despite the fact that love is the one experience which most exposes us
to growth and fulfillment, it is also the most avoided of relationships. No other relationship is as capable of destabilizing the neat, orderly world of the ego." The perfection of love and transcendence of ego comes with the deep knowing of oneness with the beloved. As
the great poet Hafiz wrote in one of his "ghazals":

O wind, if you're passing through
the resplendent rose garden,
be sure to blow this message
to our beloved:

"Why have you coldly thrown us out
of your heart?
In time, even our name
will escape you."

O Hafiz, the beloved's heart
is one with thine,
thus, you can never be apart.
Let your tears flow,
gentle as the dove, radiant as wine,
scattering the seeds of what you know
for the bird of reunion to feed on.

The message of rejection and indifference is from the ego, while the assurance
of oneness is the song and the poetry of love.

So the pitfalls of long-distance relationships are really not so different
from the pitfalls of love relationships in general. Currently, the old paradigms in our
world, our old ways of doing things, are crumbling, making way for the new. We can see
this with the economy and many other aspects of our lives, including relationships.
The Internet is certainly a big part of this--it is now usual for us to connect with people
living on the other side of the world, and we often find we feel more in sync with them than with the next-door neighbor. I also see that rather than being defined by our relationships, we are moving toward becoming more centered in ourselves.
For example, it is far more acceptable these days to remain single, and it
is understood that being alone doesn't have to mean being lonely.

The "song-distant relationship" is one where we believe we can only hear the song
of our heart and feel the joy of love when in the presence of the beloved. But when we listen with our inward ear, see with our inward eye, and open our hearts to the love that is always there for us, we can soar with that song and that joy. Then, we realize (real eyes) we are always connected, always one, and at the same time, complete and whole in ourselves.

CLEAN LIVING

2009-08-21T00:10:00.000-07:00

In the Tarot deck, the Fool card is key zero in the Major Arcana, and he perfectly exemplifies what it means to live from zero point. He is utterly trusting and fearless, his eyes turned to the sky (inspiration, higher guidance) as he is seemingly about to step off a cliff. If he ever had any worries or was run by any tapes or programs arising from memories replaying, he has let go of them, and is living as a
truly free spirit, going his own way, following the call of his heart and soul rather than the dictates of society or cultural conditioning.

I recently cleaned my son's place while he was away for a week. It got me thinking about how much time I spend cleaning, and of how it reflects inner cleaning or letting go, as in the Hawaiian practice of Ho'oponopono.

His apartment hadn't been cleaned for about nine months...that's a college student for you! (Though I never paid much attention to the dust when I was his age, either.) It was a little sad being there without him around to talk and joke with, amid all the chaos, the sides of the aquarium covered with green/brown algae obscuring his lovely fish pets, all of whom nevertheless seemed fine, and happy about being fed. But his studio apartment is really very nice, recently remodeled, and I was inspired by the vision of restoring it to its pristine, freshly painted, gleaming state.

And that's how the Ho'oponopono cleaning process works, too. It cleans away the clutter within us that prevents us from manifesting our true perfection. All of our "problems" are simply opportunities to clean ourselves of old tapes and programs that are running our consciousness and keeping us from being our true natural selves.

In hypnosis, the hypnotist inserts a program, which is then acted out by the person. Ho'oponopono is about cleaning and erasing our programs, which are memories replaying, so we can instead act from inspiration. Memories never stop their incessant replaying, thus most of us are run by our programs, but we have the choice and the capacity to eliminate them.

A friend shared with me her favorite story about hypnosis from the book The Holographic Universe: a man was told his daughter had left the room, when she was standing right in front of him. The hypnotist took off his wristwatch, pressed it into the small of the girl's back (she was standing between them) and asked the subject if he could read the inscription on the watch. The man filtered out the hologram of his daughter, and he read the tiny engraving on the watch right through her body, because he believed she was not there.

Thorwald Dethlefsen, in his book The Challenge of Fate, called hypnosis a "caricature of reality" because as he said, it is merely an exaggeration of our "normal" state. He uses the analogy of Plato's cave, which illustrates the illusory nature of our perceptions.

Dethlefsen, a skilled hypnotist, gives some pretty out-there examples, including a
post-hypnotic suggestion that Santa Claus and an angel would knock on the subject's door, converse with him, and give him a present--predicting that this would happen as scripted.

Our areas of repeated difficulty simply reflect the repeated playing of these programs. An example is the woman with an alcoholic dad, who finds herself involved with one alcoholic man after another. Until she can "clean" that program and let go of the emotional "charge" around it, the tape will continue playing and she will continue acting it out in one form or another.

In short, we are effectively hypnotized in our day-to-day reality, while believing we
are acting of our own volition. As Dethlefsen says:

"Not only is man a product of programs, but there is also a special program which ensures that he says of all the workings of the program: 'I am doing that only because I want to'...The only reason we are particularly struck by the programming of hypnotized people is because they are unusual...Hypnotized man is a slave, a puppet dangling from invisible threads; he shows us the poverty of our own reality; he is a mirror-image of the as yet unconscious man. In this mirror function lies the only true significance of hypnosis."

He concludes that the answer is to "wake up and learn to see, for reality is everywhere." He sees the path of esotericism, or metaphysical insight, as the key to this awakening. Metaphysics: beyond physics, beyond physical cause and effect. It's all about evolving to the next stage of consciousness, wherein we transcend our limitations and experience greater fulfillment on all levels, including greater union with the Divine, however we understand that term.

Ho'oponopono is the simplest and most effective practice I've found, for attaining this state--but it takes persistence and the awareness that we are not separate from any of our creations.

It is important to understand that many of our tapes/programs are not just ours, but shared with the collective. There is a mass "tape" of scarcity, for example--or as Swami Beyondanada dubbed it, "scare city." Scare City: "What's going to happen to us? What are we going to do?" And usually when we
are "catastrophizing" like that, everything is fine, here and now.

Ho'oponopono (such a fun word to say!) is about taking total responsibility for whatever shows up in our lives. We may still indulge in the blame game at times, of course, including blaming ourselves, because entrenched habit patterns die hard. But since divinity is our essential nature, we can choose to align with that nature and thus transmute, transform and transcend whatever it is that we are experiencing as a problem.

With "I'm sorry, please forgive me," we are taking ownership of the difficulty, acknowledging that it is reflecting something within us. Then, we express love and gratitude: "Thank you, I love you." The cool thing is that we don't have to be feeling the words as we say them--for example, if we are angry with someone and don't at all feel like expressing gratitude or love, the silent repetition still does the trick. Mabel Katz, a well-known teacher and writer on Ho'oponopono, calls the words of the petition "pass codes." They clear away blockages to our Divine aspect, which is us, but more than us. I believe this is what Jesus meant when he said, "I and my Father are one but my Father is greater than I." In Ho'oponopono, this aspect is referred to as the superconscious, or our Divinity.

We only need to open ourselves to the infinite capacity of our superconscious/Father, by expressing responsibility and the desire to be 'forgiven' (freed). In doing so, we are returned to "zero point" where we can receive inspiration and act as our true selves, rather than as hypnotized robots. Dr. Hew Len, the great teacher and practitioner of Ho'oponopono, once used the terminology of tennis to illustrate this in his article, A House Divided:

"In the game of tennis, the scoring system is Love, 15, 30, 40, game. The game begins with Love. In the etymology of the word, Love is no score, no stakes, nothing, to take the individual back to Love, to nothing, to wholeness."

Zero Point has also been described as a state of awareness wherein we are in the stillness and silence at the center of consciousness, and yet are still alert to other levels of the mind.

There may be a collective Zero Point in a couple of years or so. Terence McKenna's Timewave Zero theory was based on his work with the I Ching; he discovered that far from being simply a fortune-telling tool, it was a 384-day, thirteen lunar cycle calendar that could be used both for prediction and retrodiction. With this he worked out a formal mathematical theory that portrayed a time wave showing the ebb and flow of habit and novelty throughout history--times of relative stasis and times of decisive change. Using this method, which he incorporated into computer programs, he
found that there was a point at which the level of habit, or stasis, dropped to zero, and the level of novelty reached its zenith: December 21, 2012.

Speaking on Timewave Zero at a multimedia event called Alien Dreamtime in February 1993, McKenna referred to this as "the denouement of human history", wherein "the universal process of compressing and expressing novelty is now going to become so intensified that it is going to flow over into another dimension." Interviewed by OMNI magazine in May 1993, he said:

"All evolution has pushed for this moment, and there is no going back. What lies ahead is a dimension of such freedom and transcendence, that once in place, the idea of returning to the womb will be preposterous. We will live in the imagination. We will quickly become unrecognizable to our former selves because we're now defined by our limitations: the laws of gravity; the need to eat, excrete, and make money. We have the will to expand infinitely into pleasure, caring, attention, and connectedness. If nothing more -- and it's a lot more -- it's permission to hope."

I propose that we can choose decisive change, activate our own personal denouement and access a new dimension of being, here and now. We can cleanse ourselves of the repeating loop of memories that play out as the same old problems coming up again and again, and open ourselves to the unlimited potential that is just waiting to be lived by us.

In the Tarot deck, the Fool card is key zero in the Major Arcana, and he perfectly exemplifies what it means to live from zero point. He is utterly trusting and fearless, his eyes turned to the sky (inspiration, higher guidance) as he is seemingly about to step off a cliff. If he ever had any worries or was run by any tapes or programs arising from memories replaying, he has let go of them, and is living as a
truly free spirit, going his own way, following the call of his heart and soul rather than the dictates of society or cultural conditioning.

So does the Fool recite the Ho'oponopono mantra: "I'm sorry, please forgive me, thank you, I love you"? Saying "I'm sorry, please forgive me" rubs many the wrong way . I know I objected to that part of it in the beginning. I now understand it's not about beating oneself up, not about seeing the self as wrong or bad, but simply acknowledging that we've been asleep or unconscious, and that like everyone else, we've been hypnotically acting out the tapes and programs of our repeating memories. But in recent years, Dr. Hew Len has clarified that just saying "I love you" covers all the bases. The Fool travels light, both materially and emotionally, and I suspect that his mantra (if he ever uses one) would consist of one word: LOVE. In looking up to the sky, he is looking up to Love, trusting that Divine essence to guide and protect him as he steps boldly into the unknown. Perhaps, like a cartoon character, he'll literally find himself walking on air, as long as he doesn't look down and freak out! Which brings us to a very important point: the present moment, the point of power. We lose our balance and "fall down" when we take ourselves out of the present moment by dwelling on the past or trying to second-guess the future. Cleaning with whatever word or phrase that "does it" for us is one way of staying mindful and centered at zero point, the point of power.

I live the life that I allow
and in each choice there is a voice
that speaks to me, that tells me how
to be, to be, to be, to be
in the point of power, here and now,
my spirit flying free.

Eventually, we will even transcend the need for mantras or other re-minders. As we live from zero point, we won't need to make lists, for example, of where to go, what to do. We will simply listen and follow the guidance we receive from within. We will become wise Fools.

If there is a Biblical quote that most closely matches the meaning and intent of Ho'oponopono, I think it is, "Not my will, but Thine be done." In other words, "I'm clueless, you know better. You handle it." The realization of our cluelessness (on the level of the ego, the conscious thinking mind) and the letting-go to our Divinity, our greater selves, is the essence of Ho'oponopono. Then we can hear the "still, small voice" of inspiration that will transform our lives, our relationships, and our experience.

It may seem like a stretch to connect all of this with cleaning my son's apartment. Yet by putting his place in order, scrubbing away the grime that had built up over a period of nine months, de-clogging the sink in the bathroom with several infusions of our old friend Drano, adding a couple of waste receptacles where they were clearly needed, and, close to the end of the job, fishing out a food-encrusted fork from under his futon/bed, I was also putting my own "house" in order. It was far more than just a chore, for me. Any kind of problem, whether it be a cluttered room or a messy personal relationship, is an opportunity to clean and let go.

When my son came back from his trip, he was struck by the transformation, and expressed his appreciation. At the same time, he was clear that he didn't want or expect this to be a regular service. Which was fine with me, although I did advise him that it wasn't a good idea to let nine months go by without a thorough cleaning.

The first few times I visited him after that, he alluded, a bit nervously, to the disorder that had naturally, organically returned to his surroundings. I assured him it didn't matter--and it didn't. In fact, I think it would make me a bit nervous if he became a neat freak. His world has its own unique kind of order, and as with the Fool stepping blithely off the cliff, there is method in his madness (or messiness).

He helps me clean, too, in his own way. Thank you, Ben, I love you!

A Great, Huge Game of Chess

2009-06-03T01:55:00.000-07:00

Lewis Carroll saw life as a dream, and as pointed out by Martin Gardner in his notes to Through The Looking-Glass in The Annotated Alice, Carroll returns to the question of life as a dream in the first paragraph of chapter 8, in the closing lines of the book, and in the last line of the book's terminal poem. Thus, both of the Alice books, as dream tales, are also veiled parables about the meaning of life.

Games "play" a prominent role in the books. In Alice In Wonderland, we have playing cards and croquet; in Through The Looking-Glass, chess; and in both books, there is plenty of the wordplay for which Carroll is justly famous. Carroll himself was very fond of games--one reason he enjoyed spending time with children. But just as nonsense contains a deeper level of meaning, so do games. It has been said that chess, for example, with its black and white pattern of squares, was created as a reminder of the vast expanse of the field of existence, and how to navigate it. In essence, the chessboard or checkerboard symbolizes the polarities, the positive and negative forces, the yin and yang that must be kept in balance if the game of life is to be played well. The theme of polarity shows up in many and various ways in TTLG, starting with the black and white kittens in the first chapter. As Alice puts it when she first beholds the chessboard playing field: "It's a great, huge game of chess that's being played--all over the world--if this is the world at all, you know."

From the scientific standpoint, polarity is electromagnetic energy vibrating between two poles, which comprise a unity. Thought is also energy, vibrating at frequencies that cannot be measured with our current technology, and between two polarities. This gives rise to duality: the tendency for human thought to polarize to one of two extremes, to separate and compartmentalize. Linearity is perhaps the primary way we do this, in our perception of past, present and future time, which too often takes us out of the present moment. The White Queen's rule of "Jam yesterday, jam tomorrow, but never jam today," is just one example. Other manifestations of duality that show up in both Alice books, often exaggerated and/or parodied, are: fearfulness, confusion about identity, hierarchy, loneliness, wanting what is distant or unattainable, self-deprecation, and black and white thinking. Martin Gardner writes in his notes in The Annotated Alice: "In a sense, nonsense itself is sanity-insanity inversion. The ordinary world is turned upside down and backward; it becomes a world in which things go every way except the way they are supposed to." I would say it's a polarity parody, containing as many layers of symbolic meaning as the chessboard itself.

I'll close this with a quote from The Seth Material by Jane Roberts that for me seems to sum up Lewis Carroll's take on "life as a dream":

Humanity dreams the same dream at once, and you have your mass world.

The whole construction is like an educational play in which you are the producers as well as the actors.

There is a play within a play within a play.

There is no end to the "within" of things.

The dreamer dreams, and the dreamers within the dreams dream.

But the dreams are not meaningless, and the actions within them are significant.

The whole self is the observer and also a participator in the roles.

Infinite Tea Party

2009-01-25T14:45:00.000-08:00

I am part of this party,
I am merging, converging
my doing and my being,
sipping the infusion
of finite and infinite tea,
the kozmic macro and micro me.

The gifts are passed around the table.
Unhurried, unworried,
I unwrap, one by one
(and simultaneously),
my presents in multi-D.

Returning Songs

2008-12-09T12:52:00.000-08:00

Songs about returning to oneself, returning Home...

BURIED TREASURE

I saw you
I saw you'd always been a part of me
you were the one with the love
in the heart of me

in moments
the sense of silence like a prayer
became joy to my world
I know you were there

Buried treasure
I always had it but I didn't know
Buried treasure
rich forever
buried treasure

you taught it
that living truly means to leave behind
all the fears, all the pain
and the weight on my mind

I feel it
the stillness at the heart of things
holding you in my arms
it resounds and sings

Buried treasure
I always had it but I didn't know
buried treasure
rich forever
buried treasure

Love was the key
it was love made me wise
in your gentle eyes
I am whole

Buried treasure
I always had it but I didn't know
buried treasure
rich forever
buried treasure

HOME FREE

I've come around to the other side
of the looking glass,
with all I've found, I can't decide
what has come to pass

Everything is new
and yet is still the same
since I saw you,
since I heard your name.

I'm trying my best to tell you
what you mean to me
a Paradise come to view
on a troubled sea
I can't imagine anywhere
I would rather be
the sun is shining on your hair
and I'm home free.

I've been searching all my life
unsure what for
I've had my share of stress and strife,
probably more

I only knew something was there
that wanted finding
though I sometimes wondered where
the way was winding

I'm trying my best to tell you
what you mean to me
a Paradise come to view
on a troubled sea

I can't imagine anywhere
I would rather be
the sun is shining on your hair
and I'm home free
the sun is shining on your hair
and I'm home free.

STAR OF ME

Star of me,
Divinity,
you show my way,
I pray to be
one with you
bright and true

Star of me,
Divinity,
hear my plea
this lonely night,
help me see, set me free,
fill me with your dazzling light.

Divinity, you call to me
when cold winds blow,
when clouds obscure
my sparkling glow,
I shall endure,

I know my star-self is there,
I am on course,
every day, everywhere,
I sense my source,
bright star of mystery,
star of me
bright star of mystery,
star of me

when waters churn,
threatening to overturn me

I know my star-self is there,
I am on course,
every day, everywhere,
I sense my source,
bright star of mystery,
star of me,

bright star of mystery
star of me

A Conversation with Cloud

2008-11-07T14:36:00.000-08:00

A rather entertaining discussion I had, or tried to have, about Alice In
Wonderland, as part of the Oxford World's Classics Book Club.

I edited it for a bit more conciseness and clarity. Enjoy!

http://blog.oup.com/2007/04/oxford_world_classics_book_club_alices_adventures_in_wonderland/

Oxford World’s Classics Book Club: Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland

Filed in A-Editor's Picks , A-Featured , Education , Literature , OWC , Prose on April 3, 2007

“Begin at the beginning,”, the King said, very gravely, “and go on till you come to the end: then stop”

Today we are launching the Oxford World’s Classics Book Club. The first week of every month we will pick a book and give you a month to read it.

We’re all mad here.

Then at the end of the month we will tell you what we thought and invite you to share your opinions. Of course, all opinions count, mad or otherwise.

“Tut, tut, child,” said the Duchess. “Everything’s got a moral if only you can find it.”

So get yourself a copy of Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland by Lewis Carroll and be sure to check the blog again the last week in April so you can weigh in on the morals of Alice’s fantasyland.

Comments
Kate Lyon said :
Apr 21, 2007

Kia ora from New Zealand

It’s good to see a discussion group on Carroll’s works up and running. Check out the Lewis Carroll Society of NZ - you’re welcome to join our elist which should be up and running in the next day or so. Our members in New Zealand - there’s round 100 or so - are farflung, but hopefully some may join in your discussion - I would certainly like to.

Check out our site, which is just in the process of being revamped, and feel free to post to our list, or submit articles for online publication. We here in NZ are longing to find friends in other parts of the world - it’s a little difficult studying Carroll over here as there is a definite shortage of source material.

Best, Kate Lyon
http://www.lcsnz.org

Cloud said :
Apr 23, 2007

I am pleased to see this book club launched. Surprising that it had not sooner!

I just stumpled upon it yesterday. I am hoping that there will be responses to Alice’s Adventures.

Cloud said :
Apr 26, 2007

I ended up downloaded Adventures of Alice Under Ground…apparently Carrol’s first MS. I will have time this weekend to find Alice’s follow-up adventures. Is that how he wrote them? I am new to reading his works.

Cloud said :
Apr 26, 2007

Anyway, I am enjoying the read. Pretty cool. I recall that my sister-in-law, years ago, did not want my nephews to read Alice’s adventures, lest they be influenced by Carroll’s supposedly being under the influence of LSD while writing. Any truth to that rumor? Wouldn’t be surprising, given the content.

Cloud said :
Apr 26, 2007

Anyone out there? Mary Ann! Mary Ann!

Cloud said :
Apr 26, 2007

The Mouse has a “long and sad tale;” printed in the shape of a mouse tail.

The three sisters who live at the bottom of the well; learning to draw - drawing water.

Jen said :
Apr 26, 2007

This is punny:

`Why, there they are!’ said the King triumphantly, pointing to the tarts on the table. `Nothing can be clearer than that. Then again–”before she had this fit–” you never had fits, my dear, I think?’ he said to the Queen.

`Never!’ said the Queen furiously, throwing an inkstand at the Lizard as she spoke. (The unfortunate little Bill had left off writing on his slate with one finger, as he found it made no mark; but he now hastily began again, using the ink, that was trickling down his face, as long as it lasted.)

`Then the words don’t fit you,’ said the King, looking round the court with a smile. There was a dead silence.

`It’s a pun!’ the King added in an offended tone, and everybody laughed, `Let the jury consider their verdict,’ the King said, for about the twentieth time that day.

Cloud wrote:

I recall that my sister-in-law, years ago, did not want my nephews to read Alice’s adventures, lest they be influenced by Carroll’s supposedly being under the influence of LSD while writing. Any truth to that rumor? Wouldn’t be surprising, given the content.

Jen responded:
Apr 29, 2007

LSD was not around in Carroll’s time, and it is highly unlikely that he ever used any kind of hallucinogen. He was a progressive thinker but conservative in his habits.

Jen

Cloud said :
Apr 29, 2007

Jen,
Thank you for your reply. It is helpful to receive feed-back.
What reliable sources did you draw your conclusions from? That LSD or some form of it were not around then? That I have a hard time believing.

Coyotebones said :
Apr 30, 2007

Hi Cloud, I looked up LSD on Wikipedia and it says it was first synthesized in 1938.

Cloud said :
May 1, 2007

Hello, Coyotebones

Thanks.

Even though not yet synthesized, it is not out of the question there were other forms…the poppy seed and “shrooms” certainly were around.

Anyway, the point is that arguably, it is possible that Carroll was under the influence of a hallucinogen when writing about Alice.

Jen said :
May 2, 2007

OK, since we are still on this subject, I wrote an essay that goes much into the subject of
Alice/Carroll/psychedelia, it can be read here:
http://writtens-jen.blogspot.com/2007/02/transformations.html

It appeared in the Knight Letter, journal of the Lewis Carroll Society
of North America, and in the online publication DNA Monthly.

Jen

Cloud said :
May 3, 2007

Hello, Jen,

I read your essay. With all due respect, I don’t see how it in any factual or empirical based evidence way supports the position that Carroll was not, at least at some point of writing Alice, under the influence of some form of a hallucinegen drug.
I would rather think that he was not, but I guess it is one of those things that we will never know for sure.
Nice to see your photo! I may share one of myself; if at some juncture while on this blog it is fitting to do so.
Are you familiar with the book for this month? I am not, but it certainly is one that has sparked my interest!

Jen said :
May 4, 2007

Hi Cloud, as I wrote in my essay, many people have had
the same idea as you, that Carroll must
have been tripping while writing “Alice In Wonderland.”

Of course it’s true that my conclusion, that this is highly unlikely, cannot be “proved” with hard evidence that would stand
up in a court of law. On the other hand, such evidence is
a bit difficult to come by. There’s nothing in his diaries about this,
for example.

So,my statement is an educated guess, blended with intuition.
I’ve been fascinated with “Alice” and with Carroll since I
first read the books as a girl, and have read biographies about him.
Others who have also researched Carroll/Dodgson (the latter was
his real name) have mostly reached the same conclusion.

Aside from the hallucinogenic connection you perceive, what
else sparks your interest in the book? What do you like about it?

Cloud said :
May 5, 2007

Jen,

I will get back to you on concerning your question posed to me. I must cut my husband’s hair right at this moment; of all things!

In the meantime, please don’t get me wrong; I truly adore Alice…Lewis Carroll’s creation.

Soon…

Jen said :
May 9, 2007

Hey, Cloud, it’s been three days and counting, goodness, that
must be some haircut!

I was thinking today that I can understand the difficulty of discussing
the Alice books. They are rich, complex works. And once you tumble down that rabbit hole, it can be hard to climb out again!…
For me, I think I was always entranced by the surreal atmosphere of the books, they opened new doors in my mind. David Lodge has said that Alice in Wonderland is arguably the first great surrealist novel in the English language. He differentiates between magic realism and surrealism: “In magic realism there is always a tense connection between the real and the fantastic;: the impossible event is a kind of metaphor for the extreme paradoxes of modern history. In surrealism, metaphors become the real, effacing the world of reason and common sense. The Surrealists’ favorite analogy for their art, and often its source, was dreaming, in which, as Freud demonstrated, the unconscious reveals its secret desires and fears in vivid images and surprising narrative sequences unconstrained by the logic of our waking lives.”

Cloud said :
May 12, 2007

Hello, Jen!

I am sorry for CUTTING out on you for such a time. Yes, it was quite the HARE-CUT, indeed.

Cloud said :
May 12, 2007

Jen,

I have always been intrigued by the White Rabbit; and Alice’s first notice of him…in such a frantic hurry. And then that she actually got to experience his world.

A couple of days ago I discovered a nest of baby bunnies in my backyard. I am so thrilled to see evidence of the mommy bunny having come back daily to take care of them…yet I never see her! So elusive. Just like the White Rabbit in Alice’s adventures.

Truly, I love take a look at Alice publications which have great and colorful illustrations! Do you have any favorites of those that you can recommend?

Also, are the Disney animations true to the original MS? My husband thinks that their are some characters that Disney has added.

BY the way, have you ever meet Alice and some of the other characters at Disneyland or Disney World?

Cloud said :
May 12, 2007

Sorry for all of the typos above…I am moving along rather quickly. I’m late, I’m late - For a very important date!

Jen said :
May 13, 2007

Hi Cloud,

LC (Lewis Carroll) doesn’t waste any time getting us into the
story! Within the first few paragraphs Alice is down the rabbit hole
and on her way to Wonderland.

Awww, those baby bunnies must be soooo cute! I wish I could
see them. What is the evidence you see of the mommy taking care of
her chillen? I would think they would need to be suckling, or don’t
bunnies do that?

I’m not the one to ask for recommendations of books with colorful illustrations of the book, I prefer the black and white Tenniel illustrations, they are a big part of the surreal enchantment of the Alice books, for me. Funnily enough though, LC was very critical of
Tenniel’s work! He had his own ideas of how the drawings should be done. He was quite good at drawing himself, although his work was never of professional quality. He illustrated his initial MS, Alice’s Adventures Underground, which can be read at Project Gutenberg:http://www.gutenberg.org/etext/19002

Re whether the Disney animations are true to the original–Disney is Disney, and their version of “Alice” is pretty good for what it is, but no, I don’t think it truly captures the spirit of the book, and more is left out than is added. I can’t think, offhand, of anything that was added.

I think it’s unfortunate that for many people, the Disney animation has become inseparable from LC’s book, they are vastly different.

I’ve never met any of the Wonderland characters at Disneyland, but if I did, I think I’d tell them they’re impostors.

Just kidding. I’d probably try to engage them in a discussion of
the book!

Cloud said :
May 13, 2007

Jen,

That is very funny…”imposters!” I will have to remember that one the nest time I have a discussion amidst my “Character Breakfast” at Disney World.

I am renting on Netflix several versions of Alice in Wonderland. From what you have shared of your own preferences, I would think that you prefer not view a movie…leaving more to imagination amidst reading.

Oh, concerning the bunnies in my backyard. The evidence that the mommy has been back is in how the nest covering is arranged from one day to the next.

Initially I had marked the nest with two long dandelion stems, placed in an “X.” I was so very pleased to see that they had been tossed about by the next day, and the nest was nicely covered with dried straw, and gatherings of her fur peeking out. That is, she covers her bunnies with a blanket of her fur.

Shifting to another book title, I have chosen at this time not read May’s pick…The Secret Agent. I have such a long list of books that I am wanting to read. Once I browsed through that one at the bookstore (Borders), it did not appeal to me as jumping to the top of my list, at this time.

Actually, I have become interested in some of the reads on Borders Book Club. If you have an interest, please check out “The Yiddish Policemen’s Union.” There is a video for viewing on the website…with the author. From what you have written here…I value your opinion.

I will standby for your comments…

A Very Merry Un-Mother’s Day!

Cloud

Jen said :
May 14, 2007

Cloud, what’s that “Character Breakfast” thing about at Disney World?
Sounds interesting. Do you work there?

Yes, although I love movies in general, I much prefer Carroll’s books to any adaptations I’ve seen.

Thanks for explaining about the bunnies and their elusive mommy!

I enjoyed reading Secret Agent in college, don’t know if I will read
it for next month’s discussion, like you, I have my reading plate full
at this time (actually all the time). For that reason I will also have to pass on your book recommendation, but thanks for telling me about it, sounds good. Also, I don’t have computer capability for watching videos online.

Merry Un-Mother’s Day to you also!

Cloud said :
May 15, 2007

Jen,

Re: Disney - Character Breakfast. Various of characters walk around the restaurant and talk with guests, take pictures with, etc. It is really fun.

I have had breakfast in that manner with Alice, The Mad Hatter, Mary Poppins, Tigger, Pooh…and lots more.

By the way, I am curious as to the kind of work and/or study that you do…that would cause you to read so much. My reading of literature is purely recreational. My reading for the sake of “studying” in the area of marriage and family therapy…I am working on my state licensing for that.

Jen said :
May 17, 2007

Hi Cloud,

The Character Breakfast does sound like fun! I am guessing you live close
by Disney World? I’ve only been to Disneyland once, when I was a kid.

You asked what kind of work or study I do that causes me to read so much. When you are a writer/editor it kind of goes with the territory. I get ideas for projects I want to do, which often require
research. I tend to drag out the research though, I always feel there’s more I could learn before I get down to the actual writing. I guess another way of putting is is, I get stuck in the research. It’s different with poems, I don’t usually feel i have to do research first,
although I did get the idea I wanted to write a poem about Anne Frank, which led me to re-read Diary of a Young Girl. The last time I read it was in junior high school, I appreciated it much more this time around. She was a brilliant person, very perceptive, and her diary is fascinating. Death came quickly for her once the Nazis arrested them, in about six months. Sad, but she left a wonderful legacy in her diary.

I was reading an essay by Donald Rackin today about Alice in Wonderland today, in the book
Aspects Of Alice, titled “Alice’s Journey To The End Of Night.” Very good, although I don’t agree with all of it. Among other things, Rackin points out that Carroll’s initial MS is titled “Alice’s Adventures Underground” and says that might be a more appropriate title than “Wonderland” since the book is really about the subconscious, the “underground” realm below rational waking consciousness. He concludes that the Wonderland characters are ultimately more “real” than so-called reality, but that in waking life we must function as if they are not real, as if the chaotic subconscious is amusing “nonsense.”

Does that make sense to you?

Jen

Cloud said :
May 18, 2007

Mmmmm… I kind of, sort of get that…but I have no way of knowing if that makes sense. Basically, because I have no way of knowing if that is truth.

What the “truth” is…is what I look for. I believe that the inerrant Word of God is the truth.

The truth of what goes on in the minds of people…and their interpersonal relationships/dynamics is difficult for most to see/perceive. I know that I have a rare ability to perceive most…but getting others to see it is the major difficulty.

And now I ask you…does that make sense to you? I know that it does to me.

Cloud

Jen said :
May 18, 2007

HI Cloud, are you asking me if the Word of God is true and makes sense to me?
Not sure what you mean…if God made everything, including words, then all words are true and make sense, no?

In any case…I thought we were here to discuss Carroll’s book.

Cloud said :
May 18, 2007

Hey, Jen,

What I wrote was my response to what you wrote…and the question you posed:

{He concludes that the Wonderland characters are ultimately more “real” than so-called reality, but that in waking life we must function as if they are not real, as if the chaotic subconscious is amusing “nonsense.”)

Does that make sense to you?}

And now, my response to your most recent comment, i.e.,

{if God made everything, including words, then all words are true and make sense, no?}

…is that it is a non sequitur.

Jen said :
May 19, 2007

Cloud, my reply to you did have some relevance to what you
said, although it’s true I was playing with you a bit. And now I
ask you, would you rather talk about your religion or about
the book? Although I suppose it’s possible to link them somewhat.

Jen said :
May 20, 2007

Perhaps I ought to have my own discussion here, with myself,
just as Alice herself does, throughout the book.

“Come, there’s no use crying like that!” said Alice to herself rather
sharply. “I advise you to leave off this minute!” She generally gave herself very good advice (though she very seldom followed it), and sometimes she scolded herself so severely as to bring tears into her
eyes; and once she remembered trying to box her own ears for having cheated herself in a game of croquet she was playing against herself, for this curious child was very fond of pretending to be two
people. “But it’s no use now,” thought poor Alice, “to pretend to be two people! Why, there’s hardly enough of me left to make one respectable person!”

Cloud said :
May 21, 2007

Hello there, Jen~

Actually, it is possible to link the topics of Lewis Carroll and my faith; which is Christianity. For example, check-out this link:

http://www.acmsonline.org/Neuhouser-Lewis%20Carroll.pdf

Claudia

Jen said :
May 22, 2007

Continuing this stimulating discussion with myself:

Lewis Carroll thought life was a dream…and so, the dream-tales
of the Alice books are about life. They are much more than just fiction. He also saw life as a school for soul growth; “Life is really a sort of school, or training-time, meant chiefly for the building up of character, and of disciplining the spirit.” This too is reflected in many instances in the Alice books, i.e.: “How the creatures order one about, and make one repeat lessons! I might as well be at school at once.” Games are another theme of the books. In Alice in Wonderland, we have playing cards and croquet; in Through The Looking-Glass, chess. So life is a dream, a school, and a game. Alice (All Us) in Wonderland, dreaming, learning, and playing.

Jen said :
May 23, 2007

Carroll himself wrote the following to a friend in America, when asked about the meaning of ‘The Hunting of the Snark’:

I’m very much afraid I didn’t mean anything but nonsense. Still, you know, words mean more than we mean to express when we use them, so a whole book ought to mean a great deal more than the writer means. So whatever good meanings are in the book, I’m glad to accept as the meaning of te book.”

According to the Buddhists, the physical reality we experience is actually ‘maya’, illusion or dream, and reality is constructed by subtle levels of the mind.

“The Universe dreams itself”

–Fred Alan Wolf

in Wolf’s book “The Dreaming Universe”, he theorizes that dreaming is the basis for consciousness, and that it is through dreaming that we are able to manifest a sense of ourselves.

Paramhansa Yogananda said the purpose of our dreams at night
were to awaken us to the dreamlike nature of the universe, in the sense that the waking dream was very similar in structure to the night dreams.

Haiku by moi:

night dreams fade away
all too quickly on waking
into this day dream

Jen said :
May 24, 2007

Hi Cloud/Claudia, I missed your post of the 21st, just checked out
that essay. I disagree with the author’s view that Lewis Carroll’s
spiritual/religious beliefs only show up in Sylvie and Bruno (which I find unreadable).
I’d say the Alice books are much more of a “wisdom teaching” than S & B, although one does need to remain alert and look past the surface of the stories to pick up those things.

It’s late and I’m tired, will expand on this tomorrow…

Jen said :
May 24, 2007

OK…how does “the inerrant word of God” (Cloud’s phrase) show up
in Alice in Wonderland?

First, who and what is “God”? I doubt anyone here thinks of God as a guy in the sky with a long flowing beard, expecting us to conform to His standards.

Let’s remember Carroll was a mathematician, a logician, and a deacon. So he brings all of that (albeit unconsciously) to his chronicling of Alice’s dream adventures. Leibniz said that God must be a mathematician. Why? I suspect it’s because pure mathematics
is “not of this world.” In The Annotated Alice, Martin Gardne notes that the “grin without a cat” is not a bad description of pure mathematics, and quotes Bertrand Russell,:who described it as “remote from human passions, remote even from the pitiful facts of Nature…an ordered cosmos, where pure thought can dwell as in its natural home…”

to be continued…

Cloud said :
May 25, 2007

Jen,

Youuuuu…juuuust…doooon’t…get it.

Cloud

Jen said :
May 28, 2007

Hey Cloud,

Not to nitpick, but we’re not discussing Alice in Wonderland here, not Sylvie and Bruno. Care to share your take on how that book relates to your Christian beliefs? Perhaps you can enlighten this poor confused soul…

Jen

Cloud said :
May 28, 2007

Hi, Jen,

I hope you had a nice holiday weekend!

I have no take on how Alice in Wonderland relates to my Christian beliefs. I have no idea if it does, or does not. I don’t know the former well at all.

By the way, the whole tangent that we got off onto began with my reply to your May 17th post; i.e., responding to your question.

Simply put, what makes “sense” to me, or my “take” on ANYTHING is contingent upon how it stands within the confines of God’s Word.

I am not asking you to agree with that. I am simply explaining that that is where I am coming from.

So, I may not be someone that you would care to discuss that book with; or possibly any other book, for that matter.

I say that because you have impressed me as someone who not only does not come from the same value/belief system as I, but that you may not be tolerant of it.

When I think of Alice and her adventures…it is just from a light-hearted, fun, and playfully entertaining sort of way. Clearly, your thinking goes into much more depth and analysis. If that is where you are at in reading about Alice…rock on!

I do enough deep and analytical thought in my academic, and hence, professional life.

Sometimes I like to read just to let my mind relax. Even “The Book Thief” proved to be too heavy for my taste. I am now reading Anne of Avonlea…by L. M. Montgomery.

Cloud

Jen said :
May 29, 2007

I did have a nice holiday weekend, hope you did also, I stayed with friends
in a rustic cabin at a local environmental campground called Steep Ravine, part of Mount Tamalpais:
http://www.ocregister.com/ocregister/homepage/abox/article_1649557.php

Cloud, it’s not that I’m not tolerant of your Christian beliefs, although it’s safe to say my views differ from yours. I just prefer to keep the discussion focused on the book, since that is the reason we are here.
I think it’s perfectly fine that you have a less analytical approach to
the book than I do, although if, as you say, you filter everything through your Christian beliefs, that too is a form of analysis.

In my experience, it’s very difficult to find people who are interested in discussing the Alice books in any depth. Even at the Yahoo discussion group on Lewis Carroll, they mostly talk about biographical stuff rather than delving into the books.

I read the Anne of Avonlea books as a girl, loved them, will probably
dip into them again at some point,

Jen said :
May 31, 2007

Well, it looks like it’s the last day, and I just
posted an essay at my blog, “With What Purpoise?”, that contains
quite a bit of Alice stuff: You can decide for yourself if this
ends the discussion with a bang or a whimper:

http://writtens-jen.blogspot.com/2007/05/purpoise.html

Byebye, and remember, we’re all mad here, not just me…

Jen

Honest Robot Chicken Love

2008-10-23T16:26:00.000-07:00

I call you up and talk a while
of what you're doing and will do,
and share bit of the same, on my end.
(I hope you send me your drawing
of the robot chicken you said you were working on.
I'm sure it's beautiful! ) *
I tell you I'm reading an e-book
called Radical Honesty,
I offer to send you excerpts,
but you say that's all right, you're honest enough.
I'm sure that's the honest truth.
I'm still working on this myself,
so to be honest, sonshine,
the best part of our talks
is when we sign off
and I inform you yet again
"Love you!"
In saying it to you, I say it to myself,
the honest truth I need to hear
unto eternity
about you, about me,
God, the universe,
the omniverse
(whatever that is),
the robot chicken squawking
as it pecks for robot worms
in an alien landscape.

We are all robots
on a journey home,
to becoming real,
"I love you" the magic incantation
that helps us heal,
that helps us feel
into that state.

And so I state again
to you and to myself
(is there really any difference
between us two?):
thank you,
I love you.

*http://fenster.deviantart.com/

Haiku: Quick Look-See

2008-10-18T14:12:00.000-07:00

I was inspired to dredge up from my files this quote and the haiku I wrote to
go with it, after thinking about the latest Obama/McCain debate
where the topic of abortion came up. In the course of his
comments, Obama called abortion a "tragedy." I can well understand
how many people would see it that way. I don't myself, although
I certainly don't recommend it as a means of birth control. Anyway,
here is the quote, from the Seth material (Seth channeled by Jane
Roberts) and my haiku:

"For the consciousness
will come to life if it wants to. And if the consciousness picks a
mother who wants to abort, then the consciousness is only here for a
short trip. A look around. It is like the seed from an apple tree who
travels into the next yard but does not mature. It looks around and
tries again. Any consciousness that wants to be born is born. And it
picks a mother that wants to carry a child all the way."

she will abort me
K, will try again later
for now, quick look-see

As I Wander In The Day

2008-10-07T14:36:00.000-07:00

Song from the perspective of a wanderer who chooses to be without
a specific home base aside from the whole world...

AS I WANDER IN THE DAY

I camped in the park last night,
the whispering breezes ruffled the lake,
over it all the moon shone bright
as I lay there awake,

feeling there could be no harm
in what my life was bringing,
I was happy I was warm
and the stars were singing,

but as I wander in the day
sometimes I wish I could disappear,
faces, faces turning away,
they don't want to know I'm here,
they don't want me to come near,
always going somewhere fast,
I can feel their hidden fear
as they hurry past.

They think I'm less than they
because I have no home,
but they're stuck in sameness every day
and I'm free to roam.
Home is wherever I may be,
I accept what i can find,
it's not always easy
but I have some peace of mind.

But as I wander in the day
sometimes I wish I could disappear,
faces, faces turning away,
they don't want to know I'm here,
they don't want me to come near,
always going somewhere fast,
I can feel their hidden fear
as they hurry past.

O My Brothers (Beethoven's Cry)

2008-09-17T16:34:00.001-07:00

A song I wrote based on Beethoven's famous letter to his brothers, on his deafness:
http://home.swipnet.se/zabonk/cultur/ludwig/beeheil.htm

O my brothers, can't you see
what ought to be clear
you are blind in blaming me
because I cannot hear

If you felt the pain I feel
because I must stay alone
you'd know it is real
I am human, I'm not made of stone

How you wrong me
how you wrong me
you do not know
you do not know

Oh my brothers,
it feels like yesterday
I could hear perfectly
the gods took it away
a cruel joke on me

If I try and pass the time of day
I feel such anxiety
I can't hear what people say
and like you,
they misunderstand me

How you wrong me
how you wrong me
you do not know
you do not know

O my brothers,
it's not my choice to live this way
like a banished man,
I go from day to day
with just one hope, one plan:

Only art, only art holds me back
from taking my life
I will overcome this lack
I will create amid this strife

And so I choose: patience, patience,
patience, patience, patience
to be my guide,
Oh Powers That Be, grant to me
one pure day of JOY,

When, oh when
shall I feel it again--Never?
No, oh no, it would be too hard!

How you wrong me,
how you wrong me,
you do not know,
you do not know!

Death, Banana Slugs, and the Afterlife

2008-08-15T14:28:00.000-07:00

My 9-year-old son Ben and I were hiking one fine day in Buena Vista Park, along one of the many trails off the beaten path. He was clearing away the underbrush with a long stick, when he inadvertently slugged a banana slug. The creature was not mortally wounded, but we could tell by the way it cringed before us that its life would never be the same. "I won't let it
suffer," said Ben, and I averted my eyes while he flailed away until his sad mission was
accomplished. We resumed our hike, and then, overcome, we stopped again, clinging to each other, mourning the fate of the poor gastropod, so recently oozing through the woods without a care in the world. We conjectured that it had probably already arrived in heaven and was strumming a harp--but how did banana slugs play the harp? "They hold it with their feelers
and play with their tails," said my imaginative son. "But what if it was a BAD banana slug?" he mused. "Then it would be in hell!" I put the question of what banana slug hell would be like,
and he confessed he had no idea. "Maybe they have to try to dance the cha-cha-cha," I suggested. But Ben had lost interest in the discussion and dashed off in search of another stick--one unconnected with the fate of banana slugs, here or hereafter, cursed or blissful.

AH, SUNFLOWER ME

2008-06-25T12:50:00.000-07:00

Ah, weary sunflower me,
reaching, seeking, questioning:

"Beloved sun,
can you love one
so far below
your brilliant show?
I'm not a sun, I'm not a star,
I can only turn my face to thee
adoringly
from oh, so far..."

The sun replied:

"Beloved, you too are a sun,
and you and I are one.
Learn to look within and see
the shine that equals mine,
unstop your ears and hear the song
I sing to you, all day long,
sing with me:

'I am the lover and the loved,
I am the light of day and night
below and above,
I am on course,
I am the source,
I am the source of love.'

Ego a Go-Go

2008-04-30T16:28:00.000-07:00

Look at me!
Appreciate me!
Compliment me!
Me, me, me, me,
if you don't see me
if you flee me
who will free me
from the prison of me?
Who will I be,
all alone, with no one to see?
I need you and you need me
to be real, to be "we."
You'll see me,
I'll see thee,
you'll look at me,
you'll appreciate me,
you'll compliment me,
I'll do the same for you (maybe),
and we will cry so joyfully:
"you and me,
we, we, we,"
all the way home.

A Letter To Mitch

2007-09-04T22:17:00.000-07:00

This is a letter I wrote to a long-distance friend back in '97, in an effort to explain New Age/metaphysical thought, which in his opinion, was bollocks. Don't know if he still thinks so, but he broke off the friendship because he could not relate to my interest in such things. He did appreciate this letter, though.

Mitch is a talented musician (jazz pianist). He put a couple of my song lyrics to music, did a fine job.

So, heeeeeere's the letter:

Dear Mitch,

Your letter is giving me an opportunity, which I appreciate, to set forth as clearly as I can what the "New Age" consciousness is about. I'll respond to some points you brought up and expand on them as I see fit.

You reiterate several times that you don't think the workings of Life are comprehensible, implying that metaphysical thought is simplistic. In truth the subject is vast, the ideas complex, beginning with the difficulty of understanding "God." This brings us to what seems to be central to your philosophy--a disbelief in a God or any kind of cosmic order. Then; we come from nowhere, are going nowhere, and all that happens is a chance occurrence. In light of this, I wonder how you find astrology personally meaningful. The key to its workings are to be found in the esoteric dictum: "As above, so below." The microcosm reflects the macrocosm. Thus, we live in an orderly universe, and nothing happens by chance.

"How could each individual have the kind of power for such mastery?" you ask, referring to the concept that we create our own reality. Well, it's certainly the case that most of us, not being in touch with our abilities, are unable to make much use of it. Hypnosis has shown us the ease with which a person can be manipulated under its influence; most of us are hypnotized by our beliefs, and this is faithfully reflected in our experience.

The New Age mantra of You Create Your Own Reality (YCYOR) has been shown to be valid by the science of quantum physics. The double-blind procedure came into being in scientific experimentation, based on the quantum understanding that there is no such thing as an objective observer--the expectations of the researchers have a definite impact on the results. The same, of course, is true outside of the research lab.

The parable "Before The Law" in Kafka's The Trial, illustrates in exaggerated form, how we can limit ourselves through our beliefs. For years, the man from the country pleads with the doorkeeper that he be allowed to pass through the door of the Law, even though the door is always open and the doorkeeper, though refusing admission, tells the man to try it "if you're that tempted." Hypnotized by what he sees as the power and authority of the doorkeeper, the man from the country can only languish there, his entreaties turning to mutters, discovering only at the moment before his death that the door was meant for him all along.

Says the man from the country: "Everyone strives to reach the Law, so how does it happen that for all these many years no one but myself has ever begged for admittance?" The doorkeeper recognizes that the man has reached his end, and, to let his failing senses catch the words, roars in his ear: "No one else could ever be admitted here, since this gate was made only for you. I am now going to shut it."

The door was meant for him because he was meant to achieve mastery through self-determination. However, he projects his own potential mastery onto the doorkeeper. The esoteric law of "as above, so below" here implies that we are one with the "above" (God, the macrocosm, the universe), but we have to understand and align with this law in order to become free. This is an example of the synthesis of polarity, in which the two poles, of being subject to law and of being free, are unified. "Becoming one with the law, we ourselves become the law." - Thorwald Dethlefsen, The Challenge of Fate.

An essential point about polarity is that the two poles depend on each other to exist. You bring up the subject of opposites in comparing the political Left with the Right. Without the Left there would be no Right and vice versa. As you said, the
resolution is in the merging of the two--a synthesis--resulting in their forming a unity. You speak of "the evil of monism", but without monism there would be no pluralism. Much of Jung's work dealt with the integration and unification of the opposites; he pointed to the ouroboros, the snake that eats its own tail, as the archetype of this alchemical process.

You see the "belief creates reality" concept as "solipsistic, narcissistic." I would say that description fits the conventionally subjective point of view, wherein it seems obvious that the self is separate and without power over the myriad influences in the "outer" world. It takes a leap of faith, an openness, to entertain the possibility that there may be more to "reality" than can be perceived by us. To paraphrase the Bard; "There are more things in heaven and earth, Mitch, than are dreamt of in your philosophy." With our limited consciousness, we don't see the whole picture. The drama unfolds on the screen of our minds, but that screen isn't big enough to take it all in.

You say that "Pluralism does not--as you misunderstood--state that truth can be found in many places because that implies a metaphysical unity that pluralism rejects (the implication being that all those places are reunited spiritually somewhere, as in, for example, some higher level, that all religions teach the same thing ad nauseum). Instead pluralism states that there are many truths." But upon investigating the different religions (as distinct from the churches) it becomes clear that they all do teach the same thing. Only the trappings are different. And if we were to examine seriously all the different truths we would find the one truth behind them.

I found your Thomas Moore quote on blame interesting because it dovetails rather precisely with metaphysical thought. As the generator of our experience, it is up to us to accept responsibliity for all of it, not in the sense of blaming ourselves,
but with the understanding that the world is a mirror of our consciousness (individual and collective); of who we are and what we think.

Now this does not mean we're doomed unless we constantly police our thoughts: "Since you have all kinds of thoughts, there are reasons for having them, as you have all kinds of geography. This does not mean that you have to collect what you think of as negative thoughts, any more than it means that you should spend a month in the desert if you do not like them. It DOES mean that within nature as you understand it, nothing is meaningless or to be pretended out of existence." --Seth through Jane Roberts, The Nature of Personal Reality. So much for the widespread perception that New Age thinking insists on an arsenal of positive thoughts to shoot down the enemy of negative ones.

Again, we don't see the whole picture, which is why we perceive people and things as being separate and unconnected. But there is tangible evidence of our connectedness, i.e. in biofeedback, wherein the electrical system of the instruments and that of the body become one, and in Kirlian photography, whcih shows that everything is charged with electricity of high voltage frequency, interpenetrating and emanating out of the whole system. The universe is a single living entity.

This does presuppose a God or Creator or First Cause to which all is connected. Separation and connection here form a polarity which become unified through experiencing the pain of this separation, and in seeking the connection, we find it has been there all along.

But in the final analysis, one cannot understand God through the rational intellect, logic, or the five senses, but through feelings and intuition. Those who profess not to believe in a God (I was for some years one of them), usually experience the energy of the Divine in some way, be it art, music, or anything that lifts the mind and emotions above the muck of the mundane.

When I was considering the points here, I went for a walk, ending up at a playground by a lake. I sat on a bench, planning to read my book, and there, facing me, sitting in four adjacent baby swings, were two pairs of twins: identical twin boys and identical twin girls. Their age was about three, they were all about the same size, and each twin pair was dressed the same. I remember the boys' outfits well; they were quite the young dandies in bright yellow sweatshirts, blue trousers, and green plaid caps. The twins were being pushed on the swings by a white-haired man, perhaps a grandfather, who was clearly fond of them.

I wondered what the odds were of this kind of thing happening. I mused that I could probably go all over the world, visiting childrens' playgrounds, and never see what was now in front of me. The twins were adorable as well as identical, and I thought of helping to push them, but I thought that might be a little over-familiar for a first meeting.

It occurred to me that this event had some correspondence with the ideas I've beens exploring in this letter. The twin boys and twin girls were a pair of complementary opposites; each was physically (and, it seemed psychically) "one with" their twin; and the two pairs formed a unity, side by side on the swings.

The boys especially caught my interest because of their overflowing humor and cheerfulness. Their dark eyes sparkled as they smiled and laughed nonstop. Later I went over to them when they were playing in the sand, and asked the obvious
question, just to make contact: "Are you twins?"

"YES!" Clearly they were pleased to confirm this fact, even to someone like me, slow on the uptake. "That's what I thought," I said, and they went back to their playing.

We're all identical at the core of our beings, and we're all capable of living with as much joy and enthusiasm as those little boys. I guess this is the meaning of the Biblical passage: "Unless you become as a little child, you shall not enter the kingdom of heaven." I hesitate to quote from the Bible because so much of it has become distorted through the ages, but I certainly felt the truth of those words on that day.

At the time, I was wearing my pendant with the yin/yang design, the Oriental symbol for the polarity and synthesis of all things in the universe. A coincidence, of course...?

You say that you and I are "fundamental opposites", that we "disagree on so many things." It seems we form a polarity of opposing belief systems. How to bring this, and our friendship, to unity, synthesis? Well, as I've said before, we can agree to disagree!

From your fun. opposite,

Jenifer

Purpoise

2007-05-31T14:43:00.000-07:00

In Alice In Wonderland, there is a song called "The Lobster Quadrille", that begins:

"Will you walk a little faster?" said a whiting to a snail.
"There's a porpoise close behind us, and he's treading on my tail.
See how eagerly the lobsters and the turtles all advance!
They are waiting on the shingle--will you come and join the dance?"

Later, Alice reflects on how she would deal with the inconsiderate porpoise:

`If I'd been the whiting,' said Alice, whose thoughts were still running on the song, 'I'd have said to the porpoise, "Keep back, please: we don't want you with us!"'

`They were obliged to have him with them,' the Mock Turtle said: `no wise fish would go anywhere without a porpoise.'

`Wouldn't it really?' said Alice in a tone of great surprise.

`Of course not,' said the Mock Turtle: `why, if a fish came to me, and told me he was going a journey, I should say "With what porpoise?"'

`Don't you mean "purpose"?' said Alice.
`I mean what I say,' the Mock Turtle replied in an offended tone.

Porpoise--purpose. A clever play on words, something for which Lewis Carroll aka Charles Dodgson was justly famous. It's intriguing to think that the different porpoises possess different qualities which serve the fish on their aqueous journeys. And, following Carroll's example of the "portmanteau words" used in the famous poem "Jabberwocky", we can ask ourselves, when we set off on our various pilgrimages, whether they be over land, sea, or consciousness: "With what purpoise?"

A comprehensive approach to the subject of purpose/purpoise can be found in the
branch of psychotherapy called "logotherapy", conceived and developed by Viktor Frankl. Logotherapy focuses on healing through finding meaning (logos = meaning) in our experience here and now, rather than, as in traditional therapy, rummaging through our past to find how it may be influencing us in the present. In this context, "meaning" can be considered to be analogous with "purpose." It is what motivates and informs our thoughts and actions at any given moment.

Frankl was a survivor of Auschwitz, and had begun his treatise on logotherapy prior to his internment. He arrived there with the manuscript sewn into the lining of his coat, but it was discovered, and despite his pleas, it was sneeringly confiscated, along with all of his other personal items. This was his initiation into a journey (internment/internship?) that taught him about the meaning that could be found in even the most abysmal of life experiences. He shared those experiences and insights in his classic book, Man's Search For Meaning.

The core of his philosophy can be found in his quote of Nietzsche:
"He who has a WHY to live for can bear almost any HOW." All through Frankl's ordeal, it was brought home to him that that those who held on to their hopes, a vision that gave their lives meaning, whatever that might be--a project to be completed, loved ones waiting for them--were the ones who had the best chance of survival. Stripped of all the accoutrements of their previous identities, reduced to their prisoner ID numbers, the most important attribute of their humanity remained: "Everything can be taken from a man but...the last of the human freedoms--to choose one's attitude in any
given set of circumstances, to choose one's own way."

Finding purpose does not always entail suffering, of course, and does not always mean having a great and noble mission in life, at least not as generally perceived. The idea that we must accomplish great things in life can actually be a hindrance to realizing our potential. Purpose is not something "out there", a mirage shimmering in the distance, ever receding as we advance. Rather, we are "on purpose" when we fully embrace each moment in all its uniqueness and power. The Now moment is all we have, and as we are fully present in the moment, one with our breath, with our beating heart, we are one with the breath and heart of All. There is great power in peacefulness, in stillness and silence. There are holy men in the East who choose to remain in their caves, meditating on universal peace and love, sending those vibrations out to the world. This is their service, the purpose they have chosen for their lives.

To take another example from literature, "Pollyanna" by Eleanor H. Porter, generally regarded as a classic, can also be seen as a powerful spiritual guide. Pollyanna, a young girl whose parents have passed away, comes to live with her aunt Polly, who feels very put upon by this intrusion into her well-ordered, sterile life, but is resolved to "do her duty" in caring for the girl. Pollyanna, whose father was a minister, learned from him a "glad game", which consisted of always finding something to be glad about in any situation--an example of the attitudinal freedom that is the focus of Frankl's work. The irrepressible Pollyanna does much good in her contacts with the people in town, winning many converts to the glad game. Following the book's publication, "glad groups" formed across the country, practicing and sharing its principles. Purpose is something that grows and builds upon itself, ever reaching for greater and broader expression.

Alice, too, inadvertently discovers a much greater purpose in her experiences in Wonderland than the one she originally conceived, to "get into that beautiful garden": "Oh, how she longed to get out of that dark hall, and wander about among those beds of bright flowers and those cool fountains, but she could not even get her head
through..." She cries the Pool of Tears when she finds she has grown so large she cannot escape from the hall into the garden. "Who in the world am I?" she asks herself as she sits in the rising flood of tears--a question later echoed in the Caterpillar's contemptuous words: "You! Who are YOU?" Although her soul-searching is, in childlike fashion, limited to wondering whether she's turned into one of her friends--Ada? Mabel?--she's begun the process of inner growth and self-discovery, which is often uneven--thus her constantly changing size--and lonely: "I am so VERY tired of being all alone down here!"

When at last she does get into the garden, she realizes that those who are seemingly so powerful and far above her have their own very real limitations, thinking to herself: "Why, they're only a pack of cards, after all. I needn't be afraid of THEM!"
In the conclusion, Alice is called to "give evidence" in court, ("Who Stole The Tarts?") and The Queen, acting completely in character, insists the sentence be passed before the verdict. Alice contradicts her vigorously: "The idea of having the sentence first!"

"Hold your tongue!" said the Queen, turning purple.

"I won't!" said Alice.

"Off with her head!" the Queen shouted at the top of her lungs. Nobody moved.

"Who cares for YOU?" said Alice (who had grown to her full size by this time). "You're
nothing but a pack of cards!"

In voicing this thought, she incurs the wrath of them all: "At this, the entire pack rose up in the air and came flying down upon her", and as she tries to beat them off, she wakes to find her sister brushing some dead leaves off her face.

Through her Wonderland adventures, Alice grows in awareness of her own worth and power, seeing the flimsiness and the unreality of the prevailing attitudes in those who would dismiss her or cancel her out, without knowing anything about her other than that which is immediately obvious, e.g.: "Rule forty-two: All persons more than a mile high are to leave the court." As Alice speaks out against these attitudes, having grown to her full size both physically and spiritually, she wakes up from the dream:
the dream we each call our life, the drama that leads to our awakening, the reclaiming of our personal power, and dominion over our own limiting and erroneous judgments of self and others. It is this awakening that may be our ultimate purpose.

Many people I encounter lately, reflecting on the state of the world today, are hard pressed to find any purpose in their lives at all, and see little hope for us individually or collectively. Thousands of years ago, Cicero was similarly distressed at the corruption of the politicians in Rome, lamenting: "Oh Tempora! O Mores!" ("Oh, the times! Oh, the customs!") He himself, though, refused to give up on the possibility of positive change, holding to a vision of transformation in government and a "golden age" that may yet transpire globally. It is here now, for those of us who do the best we can to connect with the "purpoise" in our existence--moment by precious moment.

Time for Infinite Tea

2007-04-27T22:45:00.000-07:00

I've joined the Oxford Book Club discussion about
Alice in Wonderland, it's off to a good start, though
I wish it would go a little faster. Lots I could say about
that book, I've been hooked on both Alice books since
I first read them at age eight or so.

Anyway, this is the kind of thing that can come out
of your pen when you grow up in Alice-Land...

On A Night Like This

Walking at night, down the streets
of quiet houses,
the air is misty,
the night is mystery.

In a lighted window, a silver tea service gleams.
I can see how nice it would be,
sitting there, taking tea,
eating little cakes
that make you grow taller or smaller
or even stay the same.
Somewhere a dog barks,
my soft footsteps, so seldom heard
on the street at night,
threaten his world.

Someone drives up, stops his car,
sits there staring at me, as if he's waiting
for a sign. I make my escape,
crossing the street quickly,
eyes straight ahead into the mist.

What if I had gone with him?
On a night like this, anything can happen.
That man with the beckoning eyes
might have been the Mad Hatter
in disguise, looking for an Alice
to partake with him, at that lighted window,
an impromptu
Tea For Two.

Poetry Contests

2007-04-02T15:13:00.000-07:00

POETRY CONTESTS

I've been looking at a list of poetry contests at the Poets and Writers
site (www.pw.org), wondering if I ought to try my luck.

And it struck me that the very act of writing a poem is a contest of sorts--
a contest between inertia and the urge for self-expression, between
settling for mediocrity or reaching for one's personal best. Of
course, that could be said of any art or discipline.
And the "prize" is the satisfaction (short-lived though
it may be) of in one way or another, giving form to our vision...

Well, poetic philosophizing aside, I have entered a couple of poetry
contests in my time. The first, when I was 19, was sponsored
by the so-called National Library of Poetry,(now gone "international"):
http://windpub.com/literary.scams/ilp.htm

This is the poem I submitted:

MY GARDEN

The seeds of my uncertainty
were strewn by a drunken gardener,
flinging great handfuls
into the welcoming soil.
He waters the plants with good red wine
and they daily grow taller.
It's quite an exotic assortment,
wouldn't you like to see my prize psychoses?
My delicate pink-and-blue neuroses?

My father, who has also written poetry among other things,
and actually won a poetry prize in college, was inspired to
enter the contest, too! (I don't recall his poem--sorry, Dad.)
Of course, he was accepted as a semi-
finalist, as was I, along with everyone else who entered,
and published in an anthology, which of course we bought.

Now there's a contest for this contest! Clearly this is the kind of thing
that feeds on itself.

Info about the contest:

http://www.winningwriters.com/contests/wergle/we_guidelines.php

From that page:

Guidelines for the Wergle Flomp Humor Poetry Contest

Now in its sixth year. We seek the best humor poem that has been sent to a "vanity poetry contest" as a joke. Cash prizes totaling $3,336.40 will be awarded, up from $1,609 in the previous contest. This contest is free to enter. Click here to read the winning entries from our 2006 contest.

Background

The Wergle Flomp Poetry Contest is inspired by Wergle's creator, poet David Taub. Mr. Taub submitted "Flubblebop" to poetry.com's ongoing contest to see what would happen.

Flubblebop
by Wergle Flomp

flobble bobble blop
yim yam widdley woooo
oshtenpopple gurby
yip yip yip
nish-nash nockle nockle
opfem magurby voey
Ahh! "Wurby tictoc?"
"quefoxenjib masaloouterp!"
bim-burm nurgle shliptog
afttowicky wicky wicky
erm addmuksle slibberyjert!
Reqi stoobery bup dinhhk
yibberdy yobberdy hif twizzum moshlap
dwisty fujefti coppen smoppen dob
tigtog turjemy fydel
saxtenvurskej brisleywum
swiggy swiggy swug
yumostipijjle dobers!

--end quote.

Of course, Wergle got a very encouraging reply from
poetry.com, assuring him he was in the running as a semi-finalist,
and mentioning the beautiful coffee-table anthology of beautiful poems,
including Wergle's of course, that they planned on publishing, just in case
he wanted to purchase one. (It seems these anthologies now go
for about $50.) The title had already been chosen: Promises of
Love. (It strikes me that "Flubblebop" is particularly apropos to that theme...)

Perhaps I will enter this in the Wergle Flomp Contest. Isn't it beautiful?

THE CORRIDOR OF DREAMS

I slink up to you
in the corridor of dreams
you stare straight ahead
and I ask myself:
what's the point of it all?
Why be? Why me?

I've been thrust into a world
I never knew
a world I never felt was true
I miss you
though you are here beside me
staring straight ahead
in the corridor of dreams

the corridor that leads somewhere,
someday, somehow,
and I am somebody,
everybody, nobody
in the eternal now,
slinking through the corridor of dreams
that's all I know
but i time perhaps I will know more
or perhaps no more will I know
nevermore
quoth the raven

Bodymind, Heal Thyself

2007-03-26T11:21:00.000-07:00

This article appeared in the magazine Living Nutrition (now called Vibrance), which espouses the holistic health approach called Natural Hygiene. In the past, Natural Hygiene has been mostly focused on the physical aspects of health and healing, but it is now incorporating the aspects of consciousness--our thoughts and emotions.

BODYMIND, HEAL THYSELF

"Living Nutrition" does not refer solely to the fresh raw fruits and vegetables that bring living energy to our physical bodies. As well, it refers to the words we use, the thoughts we think, spoken or silent. "Words are alive," wrote Emerson, "cut them and they bleed." Yes, words are alive, the energies of our thoughts attract corresponding energies, and our "mental diet" is as important as the food we chew (or eschew).

The science of quantum physics has discovered that "reality" is an illusion created by observation and/or consciousness. The double-blind procedure in scientific experimentation was developed as a result of the quantum understanding that there is no such thing as an observer who is completely independent of that which is observed; the expectations of the researcher have a definite outcome on the findings of the experiment. The same can be said of the person on the street, whose life, whether he knows it or not, is his own experiment.

The implications of this, where our health is concerned, should be clear. For example, a friend was telling me about her mother's recent surgery for her arthritis. She mentioned the slight arthritis she herself had in her knee; she was certain she was headed down the same path as her mother. When I told her that her expectations of this would only make it more likely that it would actually happen, because of the power of our thoughts and beliefs, she was unconvinced. She had, unfortunately, completely accepted both on conscious and subconscious levels that arthritis was an inevitable part of aging. The idea that we will deteriorate physically and mentally as we age is accepted by most people in our society, and by the same principle of belief and "reality" creation, most are proven right in their own experience.

It isn't easy to break through concepts and beliefs that have crystallized over time, but with patience, persistence, and a strong desire to change, it can be done. By changing our thoughts and beliefs from negative and destructive to positive and uplifting, we can bring about beneficial changes in ourselves and in our experience.

This doesn't mean that we're "to blame" for any of our experiences, which we've attracted to ourselves for a reason--perhaps simply so that we can recognize we want something different for ourselves. Ask yourself, "Why have I drawn this condition into my life?" (This can refer to any aspect of your experience.) For example, where a physical problem is concerned, we need to look within to discern the thought processes and beliefs behind the symptom(s), for without this understanding, we may simply exchange one dis-ease for another. Of course, this in no way precludes looking at our health practices, the factors of diet and exercise. An orientation to health should naturally be accompanied by a common-sense awareness of these factors–-an example of the Biblical wisdom, "Faith without works is dead."

We must also recognize that people often consciously or unconsciously choose to
be sick, for reasons of their own--witness the child who doesn't want to go to school, and in play-acting an illness, may find he can actually produce the symptoms. Similarly, many become sick to get love and attention, or to punish themselves, or simply to get some time out, some much-needed rest. Wordsworth's poem, "The World Is Too Much With Us," says it all. In this case, our challenge may be to create enough time and space for self-nurturing, in whatever way that works for us, so that we don't need illness as an escape hatch.

We shouldn't deny or fight any of our thoughts or feelings, but become aware of them nonjudgmentally, releasing them in whatever way we can. In the case of anger, for example, pummeling a pillow, or writing an angry letter and then throwing it away, can often dissipate our hostile energy. We hurt ourselves much more than the person we're mad at when we persist in nursing grievances, or when we hold a long-continued pattern of thinking negatively--although we can allow for the occasional "dark thought," like the occasional dietary lapse. True health involves paying attention to what is going on within us and what we are feeling on physical, mental and emotional levels.

Martin Seligman, Ph.D., in his book, Learned Optimism, describes the pessimistic and optimistic approaches to life, which he dubs "explanatory styles." He concludes that optimism is linked to better overall functioning, better health, and longevity, as compared to pessimism, which is linked to "learned helplessness," (a "what's-the-use" attitude based on past disappointments), self-blame, and, not surprisingly, depression. It's possible, however, with cognitive therapy, to change mental patterns from pessimism to optimism. Seligman describes a two-year study of forty patients with melanoma and colon cancer, in which it was shown that cognitive therapy, accompanied by relaxation training, was effective in boosting the immune system. T-cells went way up in these patients, and not at all in a control group.

Despite the evidence of such studies, many scientists and doctors cling to the materialist worldview. In the mechanistic approach of most allopathic medicine, the body is seen as an aggregate of parts, without taking into consideraton the workings of the whole or the influence of consciousness. Going to the other extreme, some systems of thought assert that the body is totally under the control of the mind, negating the importance of such things as diet and exercise.

The power of one's thoughts to influence the course of illness is graphically demonstrated in the well-known "placebo effect." One's belief in the agent of healing, which may be a simple sugar or bread pill, has the power to stimulate the healing processes of the body. An amazing example is related by Deepak Chopra in his book Quantum Health. Patients suffering from nausea were given a pill they were told was a powerful anti-nausea drug. The patients experienced relief from the pill, which actually was a nausea-inducing drug.

Most people have probably heard the old saw: "Every day, in every way, I am getting better, and better, and better." Don't dismiss the power of this seemingly innocuous statement! At the beginning of this century, Dr. Emile Coue, who originated the saying, prescribed it to his patients, advising them to repeat the words aloud five times a day. According to Dr. Paavo Airola, in his book Worldwide Secrets Of Staying Young, the prescription worked, as they did get better, and better, and better. Reportedly, thousands of people who used this method overcame a wide variety of illnesses.

I'd like to conclude this article with a true story of the healing powers of the mind. At age 22, Mitchell May suffered massive injuries in an accident. He was told by doctors that his right leg would have to be amputated, as they considered that it would never be usable again. The was extensive loss of bone and muscle, the nerve loss was, they said, impossible to regenerate, and the leg was dangerously infected. However, Mitchell, following his inner guidance despite incredible pain, refused to go that route. Doctors were so opposed to his decision, they nearly obtained a court order for an amputation.

A healer, Jack Gray, began working with Mitchell to reprogram his subconscious mind so that he would no longer feel pain from his injuries, thus enabling his body to focus its energies on healing. Soon, Mitchell found he could control whether or not he experienced pain. Jack also worked on opening him to his self-healing abilities.

What happened over the next few months was considered medically impossible: the missing bone, nerves, bone marrow, and most of the muscle in the leg regenerated. Ultimately, Mitchell was completely healed of his injuries.

Again, there are many facets to health and healing, and they all work together. Our mental diets are just one aspect of the whole. Raising our awareness in this area has a synergistic effect, naturally leading us to greater awareness of our needs in other areas, such as exercise, diet, breathing, and fulfillment of our highest goals and life purpose. But, to paraphrase a familiar saying: "A journey of a thousand miles starts with a single mental/emotional step."

"Every day, in every way..."

ECSTASY (not the drug)

2007-03-23T11:56:00.000-07:00

Growing in my heart
is a flowering tree,
flowing love to all parts,
each nerve vibrates in me,
I feel a shaking,
no mistaking

Ecstasy
I'm breaking through
Ecstasy
all is new
Ecstasy shows me what is true.

Come here and hold me,
you know I love you,
sometimes I get lonely
and I don't know what to do,
I must not lose sight
of that living light,

Ecstasy
plant the seeds
pull the weeds
on Ecstasy my garden feeds.

Always you inspire,
there's so much to see
as I'm climbing higher
your loving alchemy
transforms and creates,
opening the gates

of Ecstasy,
take a bow,
just allow
Ecstasy
you can feel it now.

Whether we're together or apart
you'll hear my song of love,
you have a hold on my heart,
ring me up on telepathy,
sing with me,

Ecstasy
comes to be
naturally,

Ecstasy is you and me.

SUPER BEING

2007-03-17T13:16:00.000-07:00

After Christopher Reeve died a few years ago, I had a dream
wherein he was swimming past me in a river, his arms and body
moving smoothly and rhythmically through the water. He took no notice of me, completely
absorbed in the swim, and it strikes me now that it was like
a meditation in motion. My Psychic Dictionary lists
"classic symbol of God" as one of the meanings of "water"; also that "liquids are lifegiving
because they flow and move about, while lifeless things are still." In that dream,
I felt Reeve was reveling in his new-found sensations and movement, in the
flowing and moving about, after the enforced stillness of paralysis; he was
swimming in his Godhood, his Super Being.

If anyone deserves to experience this, he does.

About ten years ago, it was a great shock when I picked up the newspaper in a coffee house and saw Reeve's photo and the front-page report that he had been paralyzed
from the neck down in a horse riding accident,
and as I sat there, sipping my coffee, I began to ruminate on the
irony of this happening to the man who as an actor had been most
identified with Superman in the public mind.

This was not lost on the media or on the public; the
extremity of Reeve's condition, and his bravery in coping with it, led to
Time magazine's cover story, "Super Man," August 1996. Yet Reeve didn't
want to be stuck with that label or role: "It bothers me when people
say, `you played Superman, now you are Superman.' They mean well, but
they don't know what I go through in the middle of the night. I don't
know. I suppose that if part of the definition of Superman is that you
keep going even when you feel like shit, then I suppose I do
reasonably well."

I, for one, would agree with that view of Superman as a real person
with real struggles. Perhaps it's time we redefined the caped crusader: who
is the *real* Superman? And what affinities does he have with the man who
brought him to life on the screen for us all?

One of Superman's outstanding characteristics is his honesty, his
moral uprightness--as he said to Lois Lane: "I never lie." And,
reflecting on his past experience with the disabled, Reeve showed his
unusual integrity in his admission of the discomfort he had felt,
prior to his accident, visiting disabled fans in the hospital: "It was
heartbreaking...but you would always have to admit to that secret sigh
of relief as you close the door and go back to your own life. On the
way out, I would say, `Oh, thank God.' And now I'm on the other side
of the door. And I have to be the one to stay in the room and be the
one with the problem."

It is common to feel uncomfortable upon encountering differences in others,
because they challenge us to expand and
understand, to adapt, to see in them that human essence that we all
have in common, beyond appearances. This lesson is brought home
in a particularly forceful manner by finding ourselves "on the other side of the door."
If this can happen so easily, literally in an eye-blink, a strange somersault of a man, of fate--as in Reeve's case--what then does it mean to be "normal" or "disabled"--or "super"?
One of Reeve's nurses, a man named Juice, would tell him, "You are here for a
reason." He disagreed: "It was an accident. It just happened." But
as the saying goes, there are no accidents...

Reeve said that when he first learned the realities of his
condition, he felt that he was no longer a human
being. I'm sure he gained a broader perspective on this. It's been
said that there's really no such thing as a handicapped
person--there's only experience and growth. What may look like a
tragedy may be an opportunity for transcendence.

Many have difficulty seeing anything positive in disability,
and this is partly due to the Western view of life as a one-shot deal, the perception that death of the body is the end of a person. There is, however, much evidence for the continuity of life,
the survival of the spirit. A lawyer has even made a case for this, at http://www.victorzammit.com/ . In this light, disability and other challenging experiences can be seen less as a bum rap and more as simply a learning process.

Which is not to say we shouldn't rise above our limitations insofar
as possible. "We're entitled to something more in life," said Reeve,
speaking for the spinal-injured and, perhaps unwittingly, for all
who are faced with limitations, which may well mean every single one of us.
And: "It's what you do after a disaster that gives it meaning."

In the Superman movies starring Reeve, he is often depicted as a
Christ-like or godlike being, as in the words of Superman's father
Jor-El to his son, who he named Kal-El: "It is now time for you to rejoin your new world,
and to serve its collective humanity. Live as one of them, Kal-El, to
discover where your strength and power are hidden...they can be a
great people, Kal-El. They wish to be. They only lack the light to
show the way. For this reason above all, their capacity for good, I
have sent them you...my only son." And the Daily Planet's news chief
to staffers: "Whichever one of you talks to him will have the most
important interview since God talked to Moses."

Superman, with his X-ray vision, ability to fly, courage, and
incredible strength (which could only be felled by Kryptonite--as a
disabled character in Iris P. Dart's novel When I Fall In Love
commented, the substance was "named after us"), does embody our
concept of what we see as godlike. But those abilities exist for each
of us, potentially, on an inner level. Just as the Bible's truth is
told in symbol and parable, so may the story of Superman be also.
Clark Kent becomes the nervous, inept persona
we perceive ourselves to be until we "take off" that garment and access our
true power; X-ray vision becomes the ability to see beyond appearances; flying
through the air becomes transcendence, rising above limitations; and
strength and courage may come down to the heroic unsung struggle:
"...you keep going even when you feel like shit..."

As Jor-El enjoined his son, Reeve lived as one of us,
discovering his hidden strength and power, showing us all that Super Beings do indeed come in many
different guises. And I'm sure Reeve, as he played his greatest role, would have echoed Superman when
thanked for delivering Lex Luthor and his sidekick to prison: "No, sir, don't thank me. We're all part of the same team."

Story Time

2007-03-15T13:38:00.000-07:00

This is an excerpt from a long, rather convoluted fantasy story I wrote
about five years back. I had fun with it but I think it needs a lot
of reworking. This part works pretty well, though, I think.

In the story, the original wooden Pinocchio is living with the
transformed, human Pinocchio, and is incredibly jealous of
the "real" boy. Geppeto favors the wooden one, who as we know
and as Geppeto can't forget, saved him from the whale. So the
"real" Pinocchio runs away from home, meets a comic book
superhero named Upper-Man (I TOLD you this was convoluted!)
and has some interesting adventures; this is one of them.

PINOCCHIO AND UPPER-MAN MEET THE ANCIENT MARINER

So many sensations assailed Pinocchio as he ran on the beach for the
first time! He flnched at the shock of the sand burning hot on his
bare feet, then thrilled to the relief of the squishy, cold wetness.
playing tag with the waves, breathing long draughts of the fresh sea air, filling
him with life and energy.

He marveled at the profusion of seashells, and all their variations in
size, shape and color. He put his ear to a large, curved one, his jaw
dropping when he heard--not the sound of the sea, but the words of a
poem, as the shell recited,

"I grow cold...I grow cold...
I shell have the bottoms of my galoshes soled.
Shell I cultivate my mind?
Shell I practice what I preach?
I shell drive a truck in daytime,
and at nighttime I shell teach.
I have heard the codfish laughing, each to each..."

None of this made much sense to Pinocchio, so he handed the shell to
Upper-Man and continued his explorations. Surprisingly there was
only one other person at this beautiful beach: a very old man with long, curly
white hair and beard, a haunted expression on his face, wearing a
tattered robe with a long cape, hobbling through the sand with the aid
of a rough wooden walking stick. He was so stooped that he was almost
bent double. When Pinocchio first spotted him, he was rummaging
through the garbage cans, muttering to himself, and now, as he
approached, his eyes burning with a desperate intensity, Pinocchio was
a little afraid. What did the old man want from him? He moved closer to
Upper-Man, feeling very glad that he wasn't all alone here, and
together they listened to the final words of the poem:

We have lingered in the tidepools of the sea,
By a codfish gazing at us with a thoughtful frown,
And staring in our faces as we drown.

Upper-Man nodded in appreciation, and informed the mystified
Pinocchio, "It's a new version of an old classic, maybe even better than
the original!"
Then he noticed the old man. "Oh, hello," he said, putting out his
hand, "I don't believe we've met."

But the old man just stared at Upper-Man, shaking his head. He opened
his mouth, as if about to say something, closed it, and shook his
head again. Pinocchio and Upper-Man waited. The man fidgeted and sighed
under their gaze, and finally spoke: "I'm not fit to shake your hand."

"If those are your feelings," replied Upper-Man, " then I must
respect that, though I very much doubt it's true. But tell us your
name, at least, friend."

This brought another long sigh. "I'm the Ancient Mariner, and a worse
sinner you'll not find anywhere. It was I who killed the Albatross."

"Oh, yeah, I read about you," said Upper-Man. "Coleridge. 'The Rime Of
The Ancient Mariner.' Great poem. So you're still wandering the face of
the earth, telling your tale of woe and guilt--after all this time?"

"Of course. It is my judgment and my fate, from which I can never escape.
It was I who killed the albatross..."

"Killed a bird? " said Pinocchio. "I know people who've done
much worse things, and they don't feel guilty at all."

"That may be so," replied the Mariner, "but my case is different. I
really should have known better. That was a very special bird. It
loved me, for one thing...it loved all of us." The Mariner paused,
overcome by emotion, swaying a little, his breath coming in short,
erratic gasps. Pinocchio and Upper-Man rushed to him, afraid that he
might faint, got him comfortably settled in one of Upper-Man's beach chairs.
and prepared to listen to the old man's story.

"Why did I do it?" the Mariner asked, rhetorically. " It was a perfectly
wonderful bird. Good luck came with it. Soon after it arrived
on the ship, we were able to get out of our ice prison, and it brought
us a good south-wind that got us back on course. I can still see it,
perched on the deck all night long in the mist and moonlight--our
sentinel." The Mariner was panting again as he relived the long-ago
drama. Upper-Man handed him some cold orange juice from the cooler,
which the Mariner accepted eagerly and drank in several gulps. It
seemed to revive him, and he continued his tale.

"So why did I do it?" he asked again. "To this day I don't really
know. At the time, I just wasn't thinking. It might have had something
to do with lack of sleep for several months. Talk about stress! I was
drinking a lot of coffee just to keep going, and the stuff was playing
tricks with my mind. My mother always told me I was too nervous and
high-strung, too impulsive. She said I needed to lighten up, relax, use
more self-control, or I'd get myself in real trouble someday. And boy,
was she right.

"My shipmates were furious with me. They were sure, at first, that bad
luck would come of it, since we had thought of the Albatross as our
good luck charm. Then the sun finally came up, and they cheered me as
the good guy who had killed the bird that brought the fog and mist. But
the sun blazed down on us, day after day, while the wind left on an
extended vacation. We became dehydrated. It was horrible. I was the bad
guy with my mates again, and they hung the corpse of the Albatross
around my neck."

"Water, water everywhere, and all the boards did shrink," recited
Upper-Man. "Water, water everywhere, and not a drop to drink."

"Yeah, that's exactly how it was," nodded the Mariner. "Eventually they
all died except me, and all I could do was watch it happening. I can
see their sunken eyes accusing me now as they breathed their last.
That's part of my penance, to live forever with this terrible guilt. Oh,
how I wish Death had taken me with them! I could not have been condemned
to a worse hell than this." But even as the Mariner spoke these hopeless
words, they noticed that some color had come back into his weathered
cheeks, and he seemed more relaxed. "I am very old--ancient, as you can
see," he continued, "and very tired of my vagrant way of life. I have
traveled far to come to this beach, for I heard that people sometimes
find pearls here, and unaware of their value, throw them in
the garbage."

"Is that why you were going through the garbage cans?" asked Pinocchio.

"That's right," replied the Mariner. "If I could sell some pearls--or
just a good-sized one--I'd have enough money to travel in
style. Although I can never escape my fate, I'd like to take a cruise or
two, maybe meet some nice lady who wouldn't mind hearing me tell my
story over and over again." But his voice trailed off uncertainly, and
he looked doubtful.

Pinocchio and Upper-Man were touched by the plight of this sad-eyed
old man. "How long have you been looking for pearls in the garbage
cans?" asked Pinocchio.

The Mariner sighed. "I've been here for about a year now, and still no
luck--but I'm not giving up."

Upper-Man cleared his throat. "Meaning no disrespect, old man, but I'd
say the odds are against you there. For one thing, how many people do
you see on this beach?"

"Not very many," the Mariner admitted. "In fact, most of the time, the
garbage cans are almost empty--which at least makes my search easier."

Upper-Man laughed, shaking his head. "You might have better luck finding
a pearl in the ocean."

"Oh , no." The Mariner shook his head. "I can't possibly go in the
water. The ocean hasn't forgotten my wrongdoing. It would turn against
me, as it did on that cursed voyage, after I killed--"

"--the Albatross," finished Upper-Man. "But all that happened a long
time ago. Why dwell on this so, old man?"

"I told you already. I am cursed and must suffer for this forever."

"It looks that way," said Upper-Man. "But who is inflicting this
punishment?"

The Mariner shrugged. "God, I suppose."

Upper-Man laughed heartily. "Maybe some people could hold a grudge that
long, but not God! No, you are the one carrying out this judgment upon
yourself."

"Me?" Clearly, this was a new concept for the Mariner.

"Sure. You think that what happened proves you're a bad guy, that don't
deserve to live as a free and happy soul. Let it go! Old man, it isn't
likely that you'll find a pearl in the garbage cans--but you just might
find one in the ocean!"

At this, Upper-Man helped the Mariner out of his chair, and the touch
of the super-hero seemed to give the man new strength. His head came
up, he squared his shoulders, his skin acquired a glow, his wrinkles
seemed to smooth out, a smile trembled on his lips, and he looked almost
handsome.

"Do you need a swimsuit?" asked Upper-Man. "I have one in your size here."

"No. This morning when I was dressing, something told me to wear my
swimsuit under my robe, although as I said, I never go in the water, and
so far I've only worn it for sunbathing."

"Are you still afraid?'

"Yes," said the Mariner as he divested himself of his robe. "But," he said,
walking toward the ocean, "I cannot run from the fear any longer."

Pinocchio and Upper-Man followed him, shouting words of encouragement.
Although the Mariner was shaking a bit with fear, his stride was firm
and determined as he moved forward into the ocean. He dove in as he
reached the deep water, and came up laughing as the waves danced around
him, pushing and pulling, embracing him with life and movement.. The
Mariner tossed his wet hair back from his face and laughed aloud. "I'M
FREE!" he exulted. He turned over on his back, floating and splashing.

Pinocchio and Upper-Man joined him. Pinocchio found that swimming was
as easy as Upper-Man had said, although the salt water made him sputter
and blink. They splashed and swam around the Mariner, laughing and
rejoicing with him at his new-found freedom from sorrow and guilt.

Several dolphins swarm up to them, attracted by their merriment. "We see
that you have the dolphin spirit of joyfulness and we welcome you!" they
said.

"I'M FREE!" yelled the Mariner again, still amazed and overjoyed at this
sudden turn of events.

"Of course you are," one of the dolphins replied. "and you always have
been--you just didn't know it!"

Smokin', Trippin', Dreamin'

2007-02-05T14:14:00.000-08:00

The Caterpillar took the hookah
                    from its mouth and said:

                    "WHO are YOU?
                    What do you do?
                    Are you happy or blue?
                    False or true?"

                    Alice answered:

                    "I hardly know, sir...
                    my life's in a whir,
                    my mind is a blur,
                    I've not a dollar nor a diller.
                    So pass that hookah, Caterpillar,
                    or I'll crush ya, that's for sher."

                    "Caterpiggle wiggle
                    You sure are plush
                    Think I'll sit on you
                    * plants her tush *

                    So whatz yer vision?
                    Whatz the vista?
                    Fill this hookah
                    Wontcha mistah…"

                    *~*~*~*~*~*~*

                    "Cracked my head
                    open. Colored rain
                    Fall'd skyward from
                    My swirling brain.

                    Twin a minute
                    Knew it t'all
                    Now you kin, Alice
                    Though yer small…

                    But one puff
                    is definitely *not* enough"

                    Alice said:

                    "Be quiet, bug,
                    Don't push yer drug,
                    You plushy lug.

                    I'm saving room
                    for the 'shroom.
                    Then I'll ZOOM.
                    Wmmvrrvrrmmmvvrrvrrvrrrrrrrmmmmm..."

                    "Hmm I see,
                    my Alice chile,
                    what's behind
                    that dainty smile…

                    'Shroom indeed,
                    but for that
                    yewl have to see
                    the Cheshire Cat.

                    Two puffs then
                    before yer gone
                    from me silly
                    billy bong…"

                    "Oh fuzzy one, yer really trippin',
                    perhaps you should slow down a bit?
                    I mean the 'shroom on which we're sittin',
                    me on you and you on it.

                    From nibblin' this mound
                    I could get taller or smaller
                    dependin' on which side,
                    and thass a toughie, 'cause, you see,
                    it's perfectly round.

                    Whatevah--it'll be a wild ride!"

                    "Harrumph! Yes well
                    I *might* have tripped
                    and I wasn't told
                    There was a script

                    How queer indeed
                    Your words be true
                    A mushroom sure
                    as I am blue…

                    Must be the Cheshire kitty lied
                    Or then like now I wuz too fried
                    So psilly fungi's a magic seat
                    From which side will you eat?"

                    "Which side shall I eat?
                    That's tough, as I said,
                    It's so round a seat
                    with, really, no sides,
                    it boggles my head
                    but it's time that I tried..."

                    (Alice stretches her arms around the
                    'shroom as far as they will go, and breaks
                    off a bit of the edges with each hand. She
                    nibbles a bit of the right-hand side...)

                    "OOF! my chin's on my foot! this is not goot!"

                    (She tries a bit from the other side.)

                   " OOPS! my head's in the sky!
Well, I DID want to get high..."

And Alice continues on with her adventures, leaving the Caterpillar peacefully smoking his hookah--one last party before entering the darkness and stillness of cocoon-time, where no smoking is allowed.

Instead, the Caterpillar will dream constantly, in vivid color... X-rated dreams of butterfly love...

Of Hookah-Smoking Caterpillars, DNA, And Headstands

2007-02-04T19:51:00.000-08:00

This essay took me down the rabbit hole of discovery and learning.
It appeared in the Knight Letter, a publication of the Lewis Carroll Society.

Someone told me it was "very Jungian" and I guess he's right, although
that didn't occur to me while i was working on it.

AN ARCHETYPE OF TRANSFORMATION

“Then take me disappearing through the smoke rings of my mind …”
Bob Dylan, “Mr. Tambourine Man”

In numerology, the number five represents the energy of adventure, freedom, and change, and the fifth chapter of Wonderland is rich in the symbolism of far-reaching transformation. It is said that God must be a mathematician; he may also be a numerologist, and just may be symbolized by the Caterpillar, cozily ensconced on a mushroom, smoking his hookah and lording it over those who, like Alice, are seeking answers. He, too, seeks one: “You! Who are you?” In this, he may represent consciousness itself, which is continually asking us to define our identity. A change in consciousness may require a period of land-locked, fuzzy caterpillar-creeping, followed by sequestering in a chrysalis, before taking flight as the “butterfly” of a new and glorious manifestation. The Caterpillar takes a cavalier attitude toward Alice’s perception that such a transformation is “strange,” implying that he’s accustomed to it.

Of course, normal caterpillars go through this only once.

Marc Edmund Jones, in his Studies in Alice at www.sabian.org/alice.htm, sees the Caterpillar as symbolizing the inner self: “The real or inner self is symbolized by the worm. … Observe the development of the primal streak or wormlike beginning of differentiation in the embryo. … The convenient symbolism of the inner self is further borne out in the fact that the true butterfly does not eat, but exists through the whole span of its existence, aerially or spiritually or in beauty, on the vitality it has stored up in the worm state.” This also applies to the metaphor of the butterfly as the fulfillment of an idea that has undergone incubation and is then realized in form, living on the power that has built up around its “inner self” in the womb of thought, through the time of gestation. Jones goes on to address the symbolism of the mushroom seat, pointing out that the endocrine glands are the “mushrooms” of the body because they are symbionts that exert much power in relation to their environment. “That a caterpillar should be seated on a mushroom is itself a remarkable bit of inspirational imagining, and that one side of this mushroom should cause Alice to grow and that the other should reduce her in stature is so perfect a picture of the functioning of the anterior and posterior lobes of the pituitary body as to make Alice in Wonderland forever immortal as an achievement in symbolism. Growth and its lack, especially in stature, … is controlled entirely by these two lobes in counterbalance.”

The Caterpillar’s mushroom seat and hookah-smoking have often been taken to be one of the indications that the Alice books were inspired by some kind of hallucinogenic drug, or, at least, that Carroll was familiar with them. Although it is highly unlikely that he ever used these substances, Carroll was an inveterate reader and explorer of many areas of life, especially of the occult (he owned a copy of Stimulants And Narcotics (1864) by the English toxicologist Francis Anstie), and it is possible that he had some knowledge of them. Even if so, it is doubtful the subject held much personal interest for him, since he was quite conservative, even ascetic, in his habits, although progressive in his thought. Migraines and temporal lobe epilepsy have been suggested as contributing to his unusual imagination, but here, too, the facts are inconclusive. In any case, he demonstrated a superb, wide-ranging imagination throughout his life, as well as a highly developed spiritual awareness that went far beyond the dogma of his church.

Although psychedelic experiences are often facilitated by psychoactive drugs, they are not required. The word “psychedelic” means “mind-manifesting,” and the psychedelic experience, as noted in Wikipedia, “is characterized by the perception of aspects of one’s mind previously unknown, or by the creative exuberance of the mind liberated from its ordinary fetters.” In this broader sense, the two books can be seen as psychedelic literature, and Tenniel’s tableau of the Caterpillar sitting on the mushroom smoking a hookah, with Alice peeking up at him just behind the mushroom, is a powerful archetype of transformation.

The hookah may be the most arresting aspect of that tableau (what was that Caterpillar smoking?). Continues Jones: “The hookah, an arrangement to pass smoke through water, is an added touch of unwitting genius, for the endocrines alone make possible the entrance of spirit or smoke into sensation or water.” Natives of aboriginal cultures, including American Indians, have long used tobacco to connect to the divine realm and to the Great Spirit.
Swiss anthropologist Jeremy Narby set out to discover how, out of the many thousands of plants growing in the Amazon rainforest, the natives had learned which of them had medicinal properties and how best to combine them. He was told the information came from the shamans when in altered states of consciousness. In The Cosmic Serpent: DNA and the Origins of Knowledge, Narby explores the shamans’ use of high-nicotine native tobacco and other, ingestible plant substances such as ayahuasca and psychoactive mushrooms. In altered states of consciousness, they can “take their consciousness down to the molecular level and gain access to information related to DNA, which they call ‘animate essences’ or ‘spirits.’ This is where they see double helixes, twisted ladders, and chromosome shapes. This is how shamanic cultures have known for millennia that the vital principle is the same for all living beings and is shaped like two entwined serpents (or vines, ropes, ladders). DNA is the source of their astonishing botanical and medicinal knowledge, which can be attained only in defocalized and ‘nonrational’ states of consciousness, though its results are empirically verifiable.”

Narby hypothesized that properties of nicotine or the psychoactive plants used by shamans “activate their respective receptors, which sets off a cascade of electrochemical reactions inside the neurons, leading to the stimulation of DNA and, more particularly, to its emission of visible waves, which shamans perceive as ‘hallucinations.’ … There, I thought, is the source of knowledge: DNA, living in water and emitting photons, like an aquatic dragon spitting fire.” He theorizes that photons are visible as light signals that communicate information from the DNA cell to cell. Scientists do not know the function of 98 percent of our DNA, which they term “junk DNA”; Narby suggests we call it “mystery DNA,” and theorizes that our collective DNA is interconnected and in constant communication.

The information the Amazonian shamans received was not confined to botanical knowledge, but incorporated into the learning of necessary skills such as weaving and woodworking. In fact, anything the natives wanted to know was accessible through the shamans. Narby hypothesized that the symbolism of the snake, a constant in the wisdom traditions throughout history (often accompanied by the Tree of Life or a Caduceus), is connected to the double helix of DNA in almost all living beings—this, despite the fact that conventional science did not discover the existence and structure of DNA until 1953. He cites various Cosmic Serpent creation myths, such as that of the plumed serpent Quetzalcoatl, and refers to our DNA as a master of transformation: “The cell-based life DNA informs made the air we breathe, the landscape we see, and the mind-boggling diversity of living beings of which we are a part.” After Alice ingests some of the mushroom and finds that she is able to bend her neck around like a snake, she encounters an angry pigeon who shrieks that Alice must be “a kind of serpent.”

The transformational features of the mushroom also have a historical meaning, though not one that you’ll find in many history books. Ethnobotanist and “psychonaut” Terence McKenna put forth, in his book Food For The Gods, the theory that psychoactive mushrooms were a crucial catalyst in our rapid evolution. The human brain size tripled over several million years; the hallucinogenic compound DMT (di-methyl-tryptamine), found in the the mushrooms and other plants used by shamans, is one of the chemical factors that McKenna theorizes played a role: “We literally may have eaten our way to higher consciousness.” DMT is also naturally produced in small amounts in the pineal gland, notably in deep dream states and at birth and death. Few books convey deep dream states as well as the Alice books; those who insist that Carroll’s works are the products of drug experiences may be sensing this dream chemical wafting through their pages.

Throughout her dream-adventures, Alice struggles with the epistemological question of whether her experiences are real. Are our dreams and other altered-state experiences any less “real” than our waking life? Writes Rick Strassman in his book DMT, The Spirit Molecule: “The other planes of existence are always there … but we cannot perceive them because we are not designed to do so; our hard-wiring keeps us tuned in to Channel Normal.” Rather than seeing these other planes as pure hallucination, Strassman accepts them as realities that we tune in to when in these altered states.

Psychedelic mushrooms are also called ethneogens, a term meaning “creating or becoming divine within.” The yogic headstand is perhaps another such tool. Alice’s rendering of “You Are Old, Father William” is the first instance of a character “incessantly” standing on his head; this is also a favored, though less deliberate, posture of the White Knight in Looking-Glass, who assures Alice: “The more head-downwards I am, the more I keep inventing new things.”

Most babies face head downwards in their final weeks in the womb; “inventing new things” can be taken as a metaphor for any kind of birth or new beginning. We naturally transform our world when standing on our head, both perceptively and on inner levels, through action on the glands, particularly the pineal. The Hanged Man, hanging serenely upside down from a tree in the twelfth card of the Tarot, is an archetype of this transitional and transformational process, and the Caterpillar itself, like all headed for butterflyhood, will hang head downwards as it transforms within its chrysalis.

According to the insect biologist Carroll Williams, in an article titled “When Insects Change Form”(Life, February 11, 1952), a caterpillar’s transformation is triggered by a hormone in the brain which, in turn, stimulates the thoracic hormone in the region of the heart, which “forces the body cells to produce a substance called cytochrome, which hastens growth and change. … This same cytochrome exists in the cells of the human body, but its role as a growth factor has never been known.” Along with the 98 percent of our DNA that seemingly has no function, it could be that this cytochrome substance is far more crucial than we know.

Is it possible that the Absolute has been cocooned in us, waiting for the right time to awaken fully in our hearts? Is this what we will experience in the future—or now, if we can but invoke it—and will the Caterpillar of our collective self flutter free of its cocoon, utterly transformed?

A Taste of Money

2007-01-29T23:55:00.000-08:00

I've actually published a few poems in my lifetime. I was only paid for
this one, though--the lordly sum of $25, from the San Francisco Bay
Guardian, when that periodical went through a short phase of showcasing
local writers, in a column called (appropriately enough) Local Color.

It's a bit funny, too, because this poem came so easily--literally in a flash
of inspiration. Maybe that's the way poems always ought to come. Anyway, here
'tis:

A TASTE OF MANZANITA HONEY
(Raw--Unfiltered)

I know I'm in trouble
when I start to identify
with the ants that keep trying
to get into the honey.

I've found a few
who made it,
tiny black corpses,
floating in their golden heaven.

Sighing, I scoop them out,
wipe the jar,
put it on another shelf.
They won't find it for a while.

Maybe those dead ants
are the lucky ones.
I, too, sometimes feel
I would die for a taste
of something sweet,

and so I eat chocolate
or have a drink
or go shopping
or write a poem,

and I wonder who keeps moving
the golden dreams.

Deviant Art Escapee

2007-01-21T22:38:00.000-08:00

I set up an account at Deviant Art, thinking I'd share my writtens there, but I found the procedure
for posting work way too complicated. I spent over an hour trying to post one little poem, and when
I didn't succeed, I tried to get information about what was wrong, but the process for getting answers
to questions is also very complicated. I gave up in disgust and decided I would do fine with a blog.
Everyone else has one, why not me? I did manage to post one journal entry there, copying and pasting
it in here;

"For a long time I've had the intention of posting my writings at Deviant Art, looks like I'm finally getting around to it! I have a sense of accomplishment already in finding a username that has not already been taken. I think it took about 20 tries!

I know Deviant Art is mostly for visual artists,
and I'm not anticipating my stuff will get a lot of readers or comments. That's OK, I just want
a place to keep it all together online.

As things are now, I've written a lot that
I think needs further work, to pass muster with my own inner critic, which often is so severe that I have trouble even reading over what I've written. But I hope to salvage the gems amongst the rubble, and polish them up. "

And that is the purpose of this blog also, at least as I see it now. Poem coming up...

And so, I begin...