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Monthly Archives: March 2014

The shaman lives among us
They sing in the trees
They dance in the breeze

They are the hearts murmur
Echoing beyond all things

Rhythmic and basic
Their beat is slow
And almost unheard…

“But there is another way — in diametric opposition to that of
social duty and the popular cult. From the standpoint of the way
of duty, anyone in exile from the community is a nothing. From
the other point of view, however, this exile is the first step of the
quest. Each carries within himself the all; therefore it may be
sought and discovered within. The differentiation’s of sex, age,
and occupation are not essential to our character, but mere cos-
tumes which we wear for a time on the stage of the world. The
image of man within is not to be confounded with the garments.
We think of ourselves as Americans, children of the twentieth
century, Occidentals, civilized Christians. We are virtuous or sin-
ful. Yet such designations do not tell what it is to be man, they
denote only the accidents of geography, birth-date, and income.
What is the core of us? What is the basic character of our being?

The asceticism of the medieval saints and of the yogis of
India, the Hellenistic mystery initiations, the ancient philoso-
phies of the East and of the West, are techniques for the shifting
of the emphasis of individual consciousness away from the gar-
ments. The preliminary meditations of the aspirant detach his
mind and sentiments from the accidents of life and drive him to
the core. “I am not that, not that,” he meditates: “not my mother
or son who has just died; my body, which is ill or aging; my
arm, my eye, my head; not the summation of all these things. I
am not my feeling; not my mind; not my power of intuition. ” By
such meditations he is driven to his own profundity and breaks
through, at last, to unfathomable realizations. No man can re-
turn from such exercises and take very seriously himself as Mr.
So-an-so of Such-and-such a township, U.S.A. — Society and du-
ties drop away. Mr, So-and-so, having discovered himself big
with man, becomes indrawn and aloof.”
-Joseph Campbell “The Hero with a Thousand Faces”

 

“I am not that, not that,” he meditates: “not my mother
or son who has just died; my body, which is ill or aging; my
arm, my eye, my head; not the summation of all these things. I
am not my feeling; not my mind; not my power of intuition. “

How does this speak: 

“Great spirits have always encountered opposition from mediocre minds. The mediocre mind is incapable of understanding the man who refuses to bow blindly to conventional prejudices and chooses instead to express his opinions courageously and honestly.”

– Albert Einstein

Man, not being a “great spirit” or a “mediocre mind”, what is really hear being said?

Perhaps the “great spirit(s)” is really just the spirit of truth a man allows himself to become one with. While the mediocre mind is just that…mediocre…more of a tool to help create stability through customs and forms, and not the whole of man him or herself?

 

 

solitudinus

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An old way of thinking might have gotten us to this point but it can’t carry us further and giving up our moment and time to think for ourselves, now that we are where we are, is exactly what we should not do.

“When the creators have disappeared from the people, when they are barely tolerated as irrelevant curiosities, as ornaments, as eccentrics alien to life, when authentic struggle ceases and shifts into the merely polemical, into the intrigues and machinations of human beings within the present-at-hand, then the decline has already begun. For even when an age still makes an effort just to uphold the inherited level and dignity of its Dasein(somewhat like Self), the level already sinks. It can be upheld only insofar as at all times it is creatively transcended.”
– Heidegger (Introduction to Metaphysics, p. 67)

If truth leads to untruth, and untruth leads to truth then let us move away from the old truth that has become untrue and use this truth to reawaken and become true.

But for now let us attempt to see this more clearly:

“When the creators have disappeared from the people, when they are barely tolerated as irrelevant curiosities, as ornaments, as eccentrics alien to life…”

The creators are actually just you and me, with one exception, they have entered the abyss and returned. They have, almost literally, dipped themselves into the unknown and have returned to us, partially wounded and anxious, but with an inflamed heart that has seen and been through unfathomable experiences to one who has not struggled with their own paradox. They are the shamans, the sufferers and curers of Psychosis, the consciously, well rounded experimenters–some-what by accident– of the heights and depths of human Being. Or as the ancient Chinese would say:

When Heaven is about to confer a great mission upon a person, it first exercises his mind with suffering and his body with toil. It subjects him to hunger and poverty and perplexes his undertakings. By all these means it stimulates his mind, hardens his nature, and relieves his incompetence.
– Mencius

 

“…When authentic struggle ceases and shifts into the merely polemical, into the intrigues and machinations of human beings within the present-at-hand, then the decline has already begun.”

Authentic struggle is the struggle for truth beyond any mere stance or pre-decided formulation. Becoming polemical, as we are today, is the inauthentic struggle that ahead of time, and without thinking from the whole of reality itself, assumes reality and the argument to already be between, say capitalism and communism or socialism. This is to say that in an inauthentic struggle, polemics, given a pre-determined “necessity,” we simply pick one side over the other, for whatever reason, perhaps just to feel like we are actually debating and discussing reality (hubris). Where as authentic struggle starts from an unassuming neutral position that is willing to work together to figure out and decide what is true. Doing this is to understand that our thoughts and ideas are placed on top of life and we struggle, together, to be and stay within what is real. The inauthentic simply look to what is present-at-hand, what is easily seen and grasped, but without striving for truth, and therefore assume from the beginning that they know what reality is and that it is a simple task to just pick a stance and fight for it regardless of whether or not it still corresponds adequately with reality.

 

“For even when an age still makes an effort just to uphold the inherited level and dignity of its Dasein(somewhat like Self), the level already sinks. It can be upheld only insofar as at all times it is creatively transcended.”

The basis for this is the understanding of chaos and impermanence. Time. Time is, simply, a measurement of change. “Time crumbles all things; everything grows old and is forgotten under the power of time.” Aristotle speaks this to us from over 2 thousand years ago. As does Sophocles this: “The broad, incalculable sweep of time lets emerge everything that is not open as well as concealing (again) in itself what has appeared (translation by Heidegger).” Over ‘time’ things change, one could say. This is easy enough, but what of time itself? The concept of time, this is a creation of the human mind. It correlates to change, no doubt, but it is still an idea that exists only within our mind. In this sense it is not real. Just as the price of Gold is fictitious; Gold doesn’t come with a price or cost when it lays peacefully in the mountain. Time, as the cost of things, are placed later, by man, on top of life. Chaos teaches us the necessity of this but impermanence teaches us that each being and relationship has a cyclic motion. As can be seen here in this poem:

 

What is this Fire burning brightly,
this upward floating freely?

What is this crisp dry Air,
that makes everything easy to bare?

What is this Water smoothly flowing,
that ease of downward going?

What is this Earth fixed and certain,
this hardness at the final curtain?

The Cyclic dance is growing,
Our oneness in circle is flowing.

 

Nothing lasts forever. History attests to this every where. Any one way of coming to see the world and reality can not remain vital and healthy forever. Civilizations decline and fall. At some point we will become stagnant and the old “truths” will become poisonous and make us rigid and ultimately fragile. Just like a tree when it enters into old age: it is no longer vitally alive, it is no longer capable of meeting life even half way. And then naturally hardens until it becomes brittle, and the water of life no longer flows through its veins. Therefore if we do not “creatively transcend” continuously, in a flowing manner, we will crumble and crack and eventually fall.

 

In short, if an old, assuming way no longer adequately resolves the problems and issues we are confronting now, then we should do as Einstein suggests:

“Concepts that have proven useful in ordering things easily achieve such authority over us that we forget their earthly origins and accept them as unalterable givens. Thus they might come to be stamped as “necessities of thought,” “a priori givens,” etc. The path of scientific progress is often made impassable for a long time by such errors. Therefore it is by no means an idle game if we become practiced in analysing long-held commonplace concepts and showing the circumstances on which their justification and usefulness depend, and how they have grown up, individually, out of the givens of experience. Thus their excessive authority will be broken. They will be removed if they cannot be properly legitimated, corrected if their correlation with given things be far too superfluous, or replaced if a new system can be established that we prefer for whatever reason.”

 

solitudinus

What is this Fire burning brightly,
this upward floating freely?

What is this crisp dry Air,
that makes everything easy to bare?

What is this Water smoothly flowing,
that ease of downward going?

What is this Earth fixed and certain,
this hardiness at the final curtain?

The Cyclic dance is growing,
Our oneness in circle is flowing.

 

solitudinus

Our soular movement
Creates our gravity
From traced infinity
In the planetary realms
Of intangible existence.

This gestation period
Before our true beauty
Can blossom forth into
Multi-dimensional creation.

Our musical dance
Of soular grace
Into the wordlessness
Of truth.

solitudinus

The barren landscape of mind
Lies before vast eyes.
As the rising sun
Slowly illuminates:
The desolate wasteland.
And when the light
Continues to age
Out of the firmament
Of thoughtlessness
Arises the diagram,
The edifice
Of thoughtfulness.

Before command is taken
The inverted mount
Awaits devotion,
Serpentine struggles
Through its shivering roaring river.
On either side dips,
Dips the hands of music and math.
While the soul slowly awakens
This mystic image appears
Dangling just out of grasp
This hazy apparition, unfathomable
As if below the surface
The surface of a tearing torrent
And as the meandering mist
Vacates this vision
Eyes beholding
The majestic symbol;
The breathing,
Multi-coloured
Many-faced
Sphere,
Sphere of…

 

solitudinus

Having planted my feet in richly tiled soil
I feel my toes dig into the depths
Reaching, curling; almost one,
The firm foundation solid in form.
Allowing the rising arms to imagine a cross
Upon which I verily embrace the unnameable.
The heart levitates into the right eye,
While the mind slithers into the left.
O! what a bloody war consumes
Erupts,spews forth the froth of Death!
The cowering, shrivelled boy Lets Go!
Heart and mind pierce upwards “I accept my Fate”!
The weight lifted; gravity nullified
Now having become an awakening man
I bounce between Intimidation and Anger
Until once again upright with a new
Support dancing in earthly reason.
My fate becomes My Destiny
While my consciousness gradually takes to flight
Into the unknown I will make known.
I hold the line tight as a bridge
Concepts slowly blur into surreal imagination
As swirling wind through through the Eye!

solitdinus

I hold my hands in view of my eyes
And am pleased with their immaculatness.
I have kept them from hard labour and danger.
My eyes then flow up my perfect arms,
To my flawless chest, where left bare on my breast
Lies my yawning mint condition heart,
Who has never had to step up the pace,
Nor burn vigorously during this sitting
And observing life I’ve created for myself.
And never once has mine eye shed a tear,
Or let anyone see into their unfathomable depths,
So gradually they’ve shriveled and turned inward
To seek, what was at birth a paradisaical mind,
And find, lo and behold, an ideally deserted
Shell of a brain; dried and crumbling.
And this is how I stand through life,
For I have yet to learn how to walk,
Run, climb, dance and am definitely
No where near flight!

solitudinus

My poetry is dead
point-blank to the head
where i fell to my bed
and cover the sheets in dark red

witha smile on my face
everyone screams
everyone dreams
never to achieve grace

i was heaven sent
but the faces were black and bent
to hell i fell
never to hear the bell

all were right; treated all wrong
nothing soothed but the beer bong
all the mens faces trapped in thongs
all the women trying to belong

worked hard to get my bread
then i saw the children needing fed
so i got a gun and fled
and now i rest on my bed, red….

solitudinus

Come now ye devils
Let me steal thy virtue
For I shalt rob you!
Your courage, your valour
They be mine own!
Let thy blood boil
Let they passion cry out
Like no man’s hath before
Ye was born to Live!
Not to idly wade
In these murky waters
That ye calleth yourselves!
Life only giveth what you taketh
Only taketh what you giveth
If thou give all
Then thee must take all!
Learn to Fly ye cowardly whores!
Then only God standeth
In thine way!
Now God hath a friend
Now God is not lonesome!
Now I hath met mine equal!
Yet man is never satisfied
So I stealthily onward, aye upward
And with much swiftness
Robeth God of his happiness
Now hath I attained the last virtue!
My will now createth
A new world is born
A new light is found
In my Happiness
I waiteth
Waiteth for the next man
To brave the summit!
Taketh Mine Happiness
So I can fall into suffering
And Live Once More!

solitudinus

The waves crashing and foaming speak wonders
sunlight reflecting numerous dances
i fall away, the ocean sucks, spits, confers
grip, the blue blanket takes all influence
swirling, i am lost and at peace with loss
a fog slowly creeps across my open eyes
the twilight is so astounding, thought dies
i am the water, the mind a willing cost
the sun illuminates all but the deep
rays pierce my skin like a million darts
thought reborn, from the sight of my parts
body,mind and soul combined, this i must keep
Calamity is what drove me to grow
I, do not despair, let the rising flow

solitudinus