❧
I serendipitously stumbled upon a documentary about Gautama and the classical story of how he sought for, attained his enlightenment, and subsequently be-ca-me the Buddha. I would have planned to watch it if I'd been aware it was coming up, but I'm glad I fell into it anyway. I'd never seen a polished video on the topic of his life before. I'd only read about it in books.
There was a scene in the Gautama documentary about his life I wasn't aware of despite the fairly extensive reading and studying I'd done on his purported biography previously. He had returned from his initial travels to visit his wife who had recently delivered their new baby. Quite naturally, his wife wanted him to hold the newborn. He knew that if he took that baby in his arms that would be the end of his spiritual quest. He refused to hold the child and returned to his goal of acquiring enlightenment for good.
Gautama and I were the same age of life when that happened. We were both approaching the first Saturn Return. It was during the last part of that 29 1/2 years cycle when we were both presented with our first child. This final phase of Saturn's orbit before it returns to the same place it was at first breath is represented by the last sign Pisces.
In astrology, Pisces is the sign of completion, and it represents the time of any cycle where the loose ends of the endeavor has to be cleaned up. Like getting a house ready for sale to fetch the highest price possible. In my natal astrology chart I have Venus and Jupiter conjoined in the last decan of Pisces, and my progressed Sun was passing by that specific configuration about the time my own first child was born. I too, ran for my spiritual life.
That is not the behavior of a person who has accepted the fate dictated by their family or tribe, in my ignominious and disgraceful opinion, but the deportment of a person who is chosen from childhood by mysterious forces to be tempted by that fate again and again whether they like it or not. Kismet.
Unlike Gautama, I tempted my fate once again. I married again and had two children with that woman, and instead of leaving them, pretty much forced them to leave me by another unforeseen explosion of physical violence. The first divorce almost destroyed my parent's child. I tried, but wasn't allowed to commit suicide. I meant for the second marriage to work and did a lotta stuff I wouldn't have done to keep it alive. It didn't matter.
For all kinds of reasons I never tried marriage again. Granted, I was tempted once by a real beauty, but the only way I can control my horrible temper is to live completely alone. At least, that's what I tell myself. I can't say I like living alone very much. I hate being an untouchable, because I do love touching and being touched very, very much. At least, I did once love it. No mas. The thrill is gone. Taking a good shit is more important in my dotage.
Being individuated is a piss-poor substitute for possessing relational exclusivity with a person who loves you back. Apparently loving me back can make a potential mate into a punching bag. Who wants that? Not me. I don't want it for them. I've lived alone since the end of my second marriage except for one brief encounter with a woman who sorta did wanna be a punching bag, sexually, and she was aggressively proactive in provoking my anger for her own ends. I ran for my life. I returned to here. It's to die for.
It's tradition for the farmers in this area of the coastal plains to not plant their produce crops until after Easter because of the chance of a late killing frost. It usually works out for them, but it hasn't always. They put a lotta money into plants and fertilizer and other overhead costs besides labor. Many of them borrow against a successful produce season. A killing frost can put them out of business and their families out on the street, so they're particular about planting too early.
They get the highest prices if they're the first-est with the most-est when it come to making money growing produce like bell peppers and squash and cucumbers. There is a window of opportunity as the Spring weather moves up from Florida.
Florida's produce ripens the earliest, but as sooner as the buyers and the truckers can buy produce closer to the NorthEastern markets like from D.C. north up to Boston, they stop paying the big money to the Florida crowd and move on up the Atlantic seaboard with the season to here, and then when the produce starts ripening in Virginia and Maryland, that's even closer and less expensive to haul to market than here, and the window of opportunity is gone.
What's I'm saying is that since Easter has come and gone, there's a pretty good chance we might not have a late killing frost, and my fig trees might have another bumper crop like they did last spring. To me, there's nothing quite so delicious as fresh, tree-ripened figs.
I'm especially happy about my new fig tree that I've been trying to keep alive for at least three years now. Each winter the live branches that barely stuck out of the ground died back, and each spring they had to grow up from the roots at square one. This past late fall I decided to rake a bunch of leaves over the top of the one branch that made up through the ground and lived through the summer to see if that would help it survive without having to start again from the root.
I uncovered it a week ago to see how it had done, and sure enough, there were a couple of tiny green buds on the tip of last summer's growth. With this commercial cutting sprouting out above ground from the first day of spring there's a chance it might grow enough to make it through next winter, and then live longer than me. The buds have gotten a little greener, but I'm afraid to trust my luck until they become green leaves. It's the best this plant has done so far, and I'm real happy about that.
❦
I do not attempt to tell the God's own truth here because I don't know what the truth is or hardly ever. I try to capture the drifting thoughts that randomly appear in my imagination for reasons I may not understand. I don't know if the content I capture with these words is true or false. The Comments settings are turned off to prevent me from having to defend what amounts to little more than fanciful, sometime crude speculation. Great moments in our lives never return.
Friday, April 9, 2010
Computer Day
❧
It's been a strangely satisfying day. I had computer troubles. I was doing some housecleaning on my hard drive and inadvertently deleted all my e-mall accounts. I had to start again from square one and set up e-mail accounts for both gmail and my ISP. I finally got my gmail account sending me my e-mail again, but I got the wrong port number in my ISP account, and I'm too sick of messing with it to do a look-up to fix it.
When Apple decided to go 64-bit I was tickled to death. I been wanting me one of them thar devils for a long time. The problem was that my Mac Mini only had a 32-bit Intel chip, and nothing was gonna change that. I knew if I wanted to get hold of a 64-bit Snow Leopard Operating System I was gonna have to buy a new computer. After much agonizing to satify my miserliness I bought a new iMac with Snow Leopard installed.
Apple has a real good set-up to migrate your settings and other data from an older Mac to a newer one, and maybe vice-versa. My youngest brother, the Mac power user, reminded me of this, but I had already beat him to the punch by figuring out how to do it myself. It wasn't difficult to locate the software that made it happen. It's labeled Computer-to-Computer Migration Program or something equally as obvious.
I should have thought about what might happen if I migrated all my old settings to the new machine. I didn't. I migrated them anyway. My doing that was a rather inconvenient mistake I'm still paying for. The data and setting were from a 32-bit Operating System to a 64-bit Operating System. Too late now to do anything but reinstall from the DVD, and that would be a really big hassle because it would put everything back to a default setting for everything.
It took hours to get my rig back to acting like anything normal, but I removed a lot of old stuff that got migrated that ain't nothing but baggage. I downloaded new 64-bit upgrades for some critical software like the Onyx software program I use to do a lot of maintenance work. The software for my Logitech Anywhere mouse had been upgraded to 64-bit, and that allowed me to remove all the old Logitech stuff that showed up before I installed the upgrade.
That was particularly pleasurable for me to do. I located and deleted every Logitech file I had on my computer. There were eleven of them scattered about in different folders for various reasons. I didn't know which ones were needed to let my use the Anywhere mouse. So, I reacted in a truly classical pattern. I deleted them all and let God sort it out. '-)
Now, I know the only Logitech software I have on my computer is the right stuff for what I need Logitech for. It's a great mouse. I use it instead of the Magic Mouse that came with the iMac. The upgrade to 64-bit really helps an already excellent product.
I read some new today that saddened me in one way, and made me feel a little smug in another. Intel announced that they won't be putting no USB3 in their chipset that controls the motherboards that run Intel CPUs until possibly 2012. It was predicted this would happen in the last quarter of 2010. Nada. Ain't gwine happen.
Why does that matter? Why does that make a tinker's damn? Because I bought a new computer I couldn't afford because I somehow felt that the promise for ubiquitous USB3 by the end of 2010 was vaporware. You see, I had made a promise to myself that I wasn't gonna buy until Apple came out with USB3 and SATA3. But then, I somehow figured it was gonna be a long wait for reasons I didn't specifically understand.
I might have to wait a couple of years to get a new computer that had USB3 or SATA3, and right now they had a 64-bit operating system I'd been dying to get my hands on since the early 90's. Well, not dying for necessarily, but the idea that I might die while I was waiting for an indeterminate drop dead date to get a few features of unproven worth was ridiculous.
What my new iMac does have that makes up for it is room for 16 gigabytes of DRAM3. I've been waiting to see what the iPad was all about, and the fact that it's not a phone is a deal-breaker for me. What that means is that I can go ahead and invest the money I've been saving for months to buy 8 more gigabytes of DRAM to go with the 4 Gigabyte the iMac came with.
That will make 12 gigabytes of DRAM with a 3.06 gigabyte Intel CPU. I never had a computer with more than 512 Megabytes until last year when I upgraded to two gigabytes on my Mac Mini. That's all it would take on the Mini's 32-bit system and 32-bit Intel CPU. When I get that extra DRAM, then I can start saving to buy a voice recognition program that requires lots of DRAM. Yeah... right.
Well, I might need it. Rheumatoid arthritis is notorious for what it does to peoples ability to use their hands. I can get ready for that before it happens. As long as I can talk I can still communicate with a sensible voice recognition program. That is, if I still can remember my name by then. Shit happens. Thangs change.
❦
It's been a strangely satisfying day. I had computer troubles. I was doing some housecleaning on my hard drive and inadvertently deleted all my e-mall accounts. I had to start again from square one and set up e-mail accounts for both gmail and my ISP. I finally got my gmail account sending me my e-mail again, but I got the wrong port number in my ISP account, and I'm too sick of messing with it to do a look-up to fix it.
When Apple decided to go 64-bit I was tickled to death. I been wanting me one of them thar devils for a long time. The problem was that my Mac Mini only had a 32-bit Intel chip, and nothing was gonna change that. I knew if I wanted to get hold of a 64-bit Snow Leopard Operating System I was gonna have to buy a new computer. After much agonizing to satify my miserliness I bought a new iMac with Snow Leopard installed.
Apple has a real good set-up to migrate your settings and other data from an older Mac to a newer one, and maybe vice-versa. My youngest brother, the Mac power user, reminded me of this, but I had already beat him to the punch by figuring out how to do it myself. It wasn't difficult to locate the software that made it happen. It's labeled Computer-to-Computer Migration Program or something equally as obvious.
I should have thought about what might happen if I migrated all my old settings to the new machine. I didn't. I migrated them anyway. My doing that was a rather inconvenient mistake I'm still paying for. The data and setting were from a 32-bit Operating System to a 64-bit Operating System. Too late now to do anything but reinstall from the DVD, and that would be a really big hassle because it would put everything back to a default setting for everything.
It took hours to get my rig back to acting like anything normal, but I removed a lot of old stuff that got migrated that ain't nothing but baggage. I downloaded new 64-bit upgrades for some critical software like the Onyx software program I use to do a lot of maintenance work. The software for my Logitech Anywhere mouse had been upgraded to 64-bit, and that allowed me to remove all the old Logitech stuff that showed up before I installed the upgrade.
That was particularly pleasurable for me to do. I located and deleted every Logitech file I had on my computer. There were eleven of them scattered about in different folders for various reasons. I didn't know which ones were needed to let my use the Anywhere mouse. So, I reacted in a truly classical pattern. I deleted them all and let God sort it out. '-)
Now, I know the only Logitech software I have on my computer is the right stuff for what I need Logitech for. It's a great mouse. I use it instead of the Magic Mouse that came with the iMac. The upgrade to 64-bit really helps an already excellent product.
I read some new today that saddened me in one way, and made me feel a little smug in another. Intel announced that they won't be putting no USB3 in their chipset that controls the motherboards that run Intel CPUs until possibly 2012. It was predicted this would happen in the last quarter of 2010. Nada. Ain't gwine happen.
Why does that matter? Why does that make a tinker's damn? Because I bought a new computer I couldn't afford because I somehow felt that the promise for ubiquitous USB3 by the end of 2010 was vaporware. You see, I had made a promise to myself that I wasn't gonna buy until Apple came out with USB3 and SATA3. But then, I somehow figured it was gonna be a long wait for reasons I didn't specifically understand.
I might have to wait a couple of years to get a new computer that had USB3 or SATA3, and right now they had a 64-bit operating system I'd been dying to get my hands on since the early 90's. Well, not dying for necessarily, but the idea that I might die while I was waiting for an indeterminate drop dead date to get a few features of unproven worth was ridiculous.
What my new iMac does have that makes up for it is room for 16 gigabytes of DRAM3. I've been waiting to see what the iPad was all about, and the fact that it's not a phone is a deal-breaker for me. What that means is that I can go ahead and invest the money I've been saving for months to buy 8 more gigabytes of DRAM to go with the 4 Gigabyte the iMac came with.
That will make 12 gigabytes of DRAM with a 3.06 gigabyte Intel CPU. I never had a computer with more than 512 Megabytes until last year when I upgraded to two gigabytes on my Mac Mini. That's all it would take on the Mini's 32-bit system and 32-bit Intel CPU. When I get that extra DRAM, then I can start saving to buy a voice recognition program that requires lots of DRAM. Yeah... right.
Well, I might need it. Rheumatoid arthritis is notorious for what it does to peoples ability to use their hands. I can get ready for that before it happens. As long as I can talk I can still communicate with a sensible voice recognition program. That is, if I still can remember my name by then. Shit happens. Thangs change.
❦
Wednesday, April 7, 2010
How To Get Yo'self A Fine Obsession
❧
There is one particularly useful attribute of the prednisone prescriptions my rheumatologist provides me with occasionally when the pain gets particularly rough that's both a blessing and a curse. It was during this last non-refillable series of steroids that my friend Rainey turned me on to the song written by Jay Ungar entitled Ashokan Farewell. I was really "roided" out the first time I played the video, and my mind was totally impressionable in a way I hadn't recognized yet.
I've written about the high I available with this old stand-by drug a goodly number of times. A lot of it has to do with the relief I get from the pain. If my readers know what to look for they can easily tell through my writing when I'm working through a prescription series. It makes me boldly go where this man has never been before.
The thing about this situation with the drug is that I got obsessed with Ashokan Farewell, and I think it can happen again. What I'm trying to say that if I wanna deliberately get obsessed with a topic I can do it by redundancy and repetition while I'm doing the prednisone.
For example, Rainey sent me a link to a youtube video in why Jay Ungar explains how he came to write the song, and then he plays it through once on his fiddle. I recognized it immediately as the theme song for Ken Burns TV documentary on the Civil War. I get really excited by the fact that I recognized it, and immediately start looking for other videos featuring a great number of musicians playing that song. There must be hundreds of them.
I found one particular video in which the violinist sticks to the original tune in tone and character the composer created, and began trying to play along with it on my digital piano to deeply learn this, by now, absolutely emotionally touching song. This is a link to the video I'm using:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nFXbK9aZzXk&playnext_from=TL&videos=PuL_muCirRw
to learn the song.
At first I couldn't remember it long enough to move three feet away to my piano to play it, then over the next few days I remembered more and more so that now I can play the main them of the song without having to play the video to remember it.
I remember writing Rainey an e-mail about my excitement over learning it, and I impulsively used the Subject: box to state that this song was really a farewell to the Old South because I tied it emotionally to the fact that I'd first heard the song as the theme song for Ken Burns Civil War documentary.
Last night I was playing the video and playing my digital piano to imitate it. I really wanna stay loyal to the way the composer wrote it, and not turn it into some emotional hokum that suits my needs more than it does this guy Jay Ungar. After going through the video a couple of times to try to get it right I went to bed.
I dreamed about this song all night long. It was there every time I woke up at the end of a sleep cycle. I woke up this morning hearing this song, and that's when I finally got it. I can use this song as a vehicle to get over the fact that my entire life has been dominated by my trying to adopt to the fact that the Civil Rights movement ended the way I was raised to kowtow to the Jim Crow cultural attitude.
I've been using my participation in the Gospel of Thomas e-mail discussion group as a way of addressing the religion I was raised to in the same manner. I really hated those hypocrites until I grew up and became pretty much the same sort of hypocrite I accused my religious and social mentor of being. Nobody wants that.
I want to be free of that sort of prejudice, and I have the strength and courage to do it, and I have. I have friends who are still stuck there and worship the Limbaugh/Beck crowd. They're welcome to it. Just don't bring it to my house. Go burn your crosses and play your superiority games and leave me to my own delusions. '-)
❦
There is one particularly useful attribute of the prednisone prescriptions my rheumatologist provides me with occasionally when the pain gets particularly rough that's both a blessing and a curse. It was during this last non-refillable series of steroids that my friend Rainey turned me on to the song written by Jay Ungar entitled Ashokan Farewell. I was really "roided" out the first time I played the video, and my mind was totally impressionable in a way I hadn't recognized yet.
I've written about the high I available with this old stand-by drug a goodly number of times. A lot of it has to do with the relief I get from the pain. If my readers know what to look for they can easily tell through my writing when I'm working through a prescription series. It makes me boldly go where this man has never been before.
The thing about this situation with the drug is that I got obsessed with Ashokan Farewell, and I think it can happen again. What I'm trying to say that if I wanna deliberately get obsessed with a topic I can do it by redundancy and repetition while I'm doing the prednisone.
For example, Rainey sent me a link to a youtube video in why Jay Ungar explains how he came to write the song, and then he plays it through once on his fiddle. I recognized it immediately as the theme song for Ken Burns TV documentary on the Civil War. I get really excited by the fact that I recognized it, and immediately start looking for other videos featuring a great number of musicians playing that song. There must be hundreds of them.
I found one particular video in which the violinist sticks to the original tune in tone and character the composer created, and began trying to play along with it on my digital piano to deeply learn this, by now, absolutely emotionally touching song. This is a link to the video I'm using:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nFXbK9aZzXk&playnext_from=TL&videos=PuL_muCirRw
to learn the song.
At first I couldn't remember it long enough to move three feet away to my piano to play it, then over the next few days I remembered more and more so that now I can play the main them of the song without having to play the video to remember it.
I remember writing Rainey an e-mail about my excitement over learning it, and I impulsively used the Subject: box to state that this song was really a farewell to the Old South because I tied it emotionally to the fact that I'd first heard the song as the theme song for Ken Burns Civil War documentary.
Last night I was playing the video and playing my digital piano to imitate it. I really wanna stay loyal to the way the composer wrote it, and not turn it into some emotional hokum that suits my needs more than it does this guy Jay Ungar. After going through the video a couple of times to try to get it right I went to bed.
I dreamed about this song all night long. It was there every time I woke up at the end of a sleep cycle. I woke up this morning hearing this song, and that's when I finally got it. I can use this song as a vehicle to get over the fact that my entire life has been dominated by my trying to adopt to the fact that the Civil Rights movement ended the way I was raised to kowtow to the Jim Crow cultural attitude.
I've been using my participation in the Gospel of Thomas e-mail discussion group as a way of addressing the religion I was raised to in the same manner. I really hated those hypocrites until I grew up and became pretty much the same sort of hypocrite I accused my religious and social mentor of being. Nobody wants that.
I want to be free of that sort of prejudice, and I have the strength and courage to do it, and I have. I have friends who are still stuck there and worship the Limbaugh/Beck crowd. They're welcome to it. Just don't bring it to my house. Go burn your crosses and play your superiority games and leave me to my own delusions. '-)
❦
Tuesday, April 6, 2010
The Inevitability Of Genocide
❧
"We all stand on the shoulders of giants, Felix. Without the ideas of others we'd be picking berries in the woods and thinking the world is flat. That others have discovered the Golden Rule doesn't diminish it's fundamental strength."
***
Why does China need brilliant scientists and weapons to conquer us when it has the world literally eating contaminated wheat gluten out of it's hand via a bunch of hicks from Arkansas? They're not really American citizens any more. Why restrict themselves to fidelity to any one political system or acknowledge their borders? If its profitable to kill the brains of Americans to put the country down, there's no reason for them not to do it, they've stopped fucking themselves into oblivion by controlling their population.
The USA is purportedly the richest, most powerful country in the entire world. What King are the Tea-Party idiots protesting against? Certainly not the King of England. They don't have one anymore. They lost their Empire when they turned the reins over to Ol' Horseface. To whom are these perpetually indignant dummies protesting? The world wants to know or maybe not.
The military/industrial complex such as the people from Arkansas support appear to now consider themselves world citizens... and not particularly loyal to one set of political ideals over the other as long as there is a profit to be made? They can easily go live in Dubai or any other place designed exclusively for such "world citizens" where they live like giants atop a beanstalk. Fee, fie, foe, fum...
While I personally think keeping pets is rather stupid, and don't seem all that emotionally invested in the results that contaminated pet food that killed millions of pets who died in agony from kidney failure, the fact that they also make human food in China to export to America may not be all that ignorable.
How long would it take China's food supply system to slowly poison the residents of the world with minute doses of chemicals that would take away the eater's ability to struggle against be-co-me-ing a virtual zombie? Not long I suspect. The dogs and cats that the Chinese food companies systematically murdered could be only the first wave to rid the world of it's genetic impurities? Here we go again?
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/2007_pet_food_recalls
What did you have for breakfast? Did all of the food you ate come from only four or five giant-shouldered corporations? Is the progress served up by these "giants of industry" a step up in the evolution of man or another exhibition of total greed and an unsatisfiable hunger for more money at the price of hundreds of millions of lives? Are you completely sure they're not standing on us with their hob-nailed boots instead?
The world, or rather my world... perhaps the world... seems at a temporary standstill of some sort. Slow e-mail day. It's just a feeling I've noticed since the last Presidential Election, and the undignified controversy over the healthcare bill. These events generated so much political attention I guess I never got a grip on it. I voted for Obama and for his promised healthcare although I didn't need it because of the VA, and now that it passed the tension I felt toward these political ends has eased off noticeably.
The same sort of calm came after the Civil Rights Bills passed, and then its true leader was martyred. It could happen again. It wouldn't surprise me to start hearing Obama prophesy his own death like MLK did after his work was done. In a way I feel vindicated that the same people who put the final quietus on my cultural heritage so that I had to go through the motions of learning a completely new one finally got their's with Obama's election to the Presidency of the United States. The nation of emigrants wins again.
I think the United States has to stay a nation of emigrants or we're just fucked. The emigrants are the ones who keep the principles of liberty alive. Who couldn't see that the white majority wasn't trying to get things to go their way instead of what's good for the country as a whole? If any one race or original nationality takes over then they'll try to eliminate the others, and that's why the emigrants came here in the first place. To get away from the madness of racial and religious domination. Genocide.
❦
"We all stand on the shoulders of giants, Felix. Without the ideas of others we'd be picking berries in the woods and thinking the world is flat. That others have discovered the Golden Rule doesn't diminish it's fundamental strength."
***
Why does China need brilliant scientists and weapons to conquer us when it has the world literally eating contaminated wheat gluten out of it's hand via a bunch of hicks from Arkansas? They're not really American citizens any more. Why restrict themselves to fidelity to any one political system or acknowledge their borders? If its profitable to kill the brains of Americans to put the country down, there's no reason for them not to do it, they've stopped fucking themselves into oblivion by controlling their population.
The USA is purportedly the richest, most powerful country in the entire world. What King are the Tea-Party idiots protesting against? Certainly not the King of England. They don't have one anymore. They lost their Empire when they turned the reins over to Ol' Horseface. To whom are these perpetually indignant dummies protesting? The world wants to know or maybe not.
The military/industrial complex such as the people from Arkansas support appear to now consider themselves world citizens... and not particularly loyal to one set of political ideals over the other as long as there is a profit to be made? They can easily go live in Dubai or any other place designed exclusively for such "world citizens" where they live like giants atop a beanstalk. Fee, fie, foe, fum...
While I personally think keeping pets is rather stupid, and don't seem all that emotionally invested in the results that contaminated pet food that killed millions of pets who died in agony from kidney failure, the fact that they also make human food in China to export to America may not be all that ignorable.
How long would it take China's food supply system to slowly poison the residents of the world with minute doses of chemicals that would take away the eater's ability to struggle against be-co-me-ing a virtual zombie? Not long I suspect. The dogs and cats that the Chinese food companies systematically murdered could be only the first wave to rid the world of it's genetic impurities? Here we go again?
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/2007_pet_food_recalls
What did you have for breakfast? Did all of the food you ate come from only four or five giant-shouldered corporations? Is the progress served up by these "giants of industry" a step up in the evolution of man or another exhibition of total greed and an unsatisfiable hunger for more money at the price of hundreds of millions of lives? Are you completely sure they're not standing on us with their hob-nailed boots instead?
The world, or rather my world... perhaps the world... seems at a temporary standstill of some sort. Slow e-mail day. It's just a feeling I've noticed since the last Presidential Election, and the undignified controversy over the healthcare bill. These events generated so much political attention I guess I never got a grip on it. I voted for Obama and for his promised healthcare although I didn't need it because of the VA, and now that it passed the tension I felt toward these political ends has eased off noticeably.
The same sort of calm came after the Civil Rights Bills passed, and then its true leader was martyred. It could happen again. It wouldn't surprise me to start hearing Obama prophesy his own death like MLK did after his work was done. In a way I feel vindicated that the same people who put the final quietus on my cultural heritage so that I had to go through the motions of learning a completely new one finally got their's with Obama's election to the Presidency of the United States. The nation of emigrants wins again.
I think the United States has to stay a nation of emigrants or we're just fucked. The emigrants are the ones who keep the principles of liberty alive. Who couldn't see that the white majority wasn't trying to get things to go their way instead of what's good for the country as a whole? If any one race or original nationality takes over then they'll try to eliminate the others, and that's why the emigrants came here in the first place. To get away from the madness of racial and religious domination. Genocide.
❦
Monday, April 5, 2010
Easter Party For Family
❧
Many times I write stuff in e-mails to people I don't actually know face-to-face. We write about topics of mutual interest that don't make any difference to the other people we don't know face-to-face, but who we correspond with, anyway, and probably to no good end. I copied and pasted some items below I thought might pass for being at least readable. Tossed-word-salad not withstanding.
My brother and next-door neighbor threw an Easter party yesterday and that interfered in my taking the time to put all the pieces together in some coherent way. A whole day has passed since some of this was written, and written incompletely even then. There is a lotta redundancy in what I was trying to say through writing. Mere rhetoric I need to delete and reorganize into a cognizant whole. Fat chance... eh?
For some reason I decided to use the nebulous Akashic Records by name to indicate a larger than usual experiential database. It's not the first time, and I'll probably use them again for a completely difference reason in the future. Why would I not? Anyone who might stumble across and read this is gonna read into what I write what they would mean if they wrote the exact same thing, so in my opinion, there is no harm or foul to trying.
[My first response to the correspondent who questioned the legitimacy of using the Akashic Records.]
Your remarks seem you're saying I should find what you think ought to be there in the Akashic Records to substantiate your version of reality instead of mine. As if the Records are not a standalone and the contents depend upon the wishes of the perceiver.
That's not gonna happen. It's what one preys for they might "see" on the surface of the Akashic Records that is determined by the seeker. If the contents of the Akashic Records could be manipulated no One would go there. A house of cards. Graven images.
[He condemned my argument on with faint praise and went on to other things he had to say, but I wasn't done yet]
I'm not trying to do anything specific with your remarks but to use them to bounce in the direction of the topic to find drifting thoughts I can attempt to capture with words. Sorry if I lean them in some undesirable way. I do not seem to have any intention to tell some "truth", but rather to tiptoe through the tulips seeking some me-and-thee-ing that takes the cake with me.
[Then, I wrote a line or two I've been trying to compose satisfactorily for a long time]
"The gateway to that world is through the me. The only-est one each of us knows as our own being in the first person singular. Adam, by metaphor, who immediately upon birth starts nay-me-ing wot's what's found in the new world it escaped to in order to form a ground of being it can build upon as a basis for individuation."
Writing paragraphs like the one above is what I write for. The thrill I get out of what I wrote above is that it contains about a thousand pages of stuff that didn't say just that, and even what I constrained to two simple sentences above is not very well-formed. I wanted to write about Adam of the Genesis myth as Everyman who gets born, lives, and then gets sick, and croaks.
It's the naming of things in the Genesis myth that draws my attention. Naming and labeling the objects around you starts for Everyman immediately upon birth when one gets slapped on the rump to force the first deep inhale of breath to cry the first scream. Aiiiiyyyyeeeeee!!
The naming can be viewed as denial of that world one is borne into merely by spelling the process differently to go where no man has gone before. By spelling it n-a-y-m-e. The denial co-me-s by nay-me-ing. "You are not me!" Not-me-ing the world doesn't last long. Three score and ten. Any longer than that and you're just backing up. Nobody wants that.
Denial is a big deal. It's used to create a ground-for-being. You are the being you are creating a ground for. How else would being you show it has legs? A ground of being is necessary to develop consciousness of your being, otherwise you're just asleep or as Goethe described:
And so long as you haven't experienced
this, to die and so to grow.
you are only a troubled guest
on the dark earth.
The contents of this universal experiential database, in my opinion, are revealed to the seeker in a manner that absolutely depends on the seeker's quest/ion/s. The hero [ala Campbell's Hero Of A Thousand Faces] is shown what it seeks in the dreamtime, and it's options are limited by his own scope of vision. How much can does the seeker believe can be there that depends on it's imagination? Can you even imagine the everything you might expect to find there by definition? +++
There is an overall view. in fact, two overall views. The external view as the pearl is approached in vision (when all the contents are viewed as a cosmic soup) get revealed according to their proximity to the central focus of the diviner's vision.
Those contents that peripherally dance in a fairy ring as the tale is told have less of a complete comprehension in the same immediacy the focus of the foveal area brings. It's a "fill-in-the-blanks" kind of deal where viewing the other from inside the "library" itself inside the ring-pass-me -not/line of demarcation some call the event horizon, the contents are no longer plural either by separation or differentiation.
They are the sa-me. There is no perspective inside the pearl. There are no five senses. There are no five trees of paradise. There are no five sons or daughters or an invitation to guess how many angels are dancing on the head of a pin. There IS only me, and the contents of the pearl outside the event horizon all have their roots in me. They are what I am is.
If you don't "see" the contents of the Akashic Records it's because you're looking from inside the event horizon. It's a subjective situation. If you don't know what you're looking for as content, it's because you are part and parcel of the content of the Akashic Records, and you can't possibly have either the eyes to see it or the ears to hear the constant bleating of "the silence of the lambs". Like a light switch. The view is either On or Off, but it's more often a matter of location, location, location.
❦
Many times I write stuff in e-mails to people I don't actually know face-to-face. We write about topics of mutual interest that don't make any difference to the other people we don't know face-to-face, but who we correspond with, anyway, and probably to no good end. I copied and pasted some items below I thought might pass for being at least readable. Tossed-word-salad not withstanding.
My brother and next-door neighbor threw an Easter party yesterday and that interfered in my taking the time to put all the pieces together in some coherent way. A whole day has passed since some of this was written, and written incompletely even then. There is a lotta redundancy in what I was trying to say through writing. Mere rhetoric I need to delete and reorganize into a cognizant whole. Fat chance... eh?
For some reason I decided to use the nebulous Akashic Records by name to indicate a larger than usual experiential database. It's not the first time, and I'll probably use them again for a completely difference reason in the future. Why would I not? Anyone who might stumble across and read this is gonna read into what I write what they would mean if they wrote the exact same thing, so in my opinion, there is no harm or foul to trying.
[My first response to the correspondent who questioned the legitimacy of using the Akashic Records.]
Your remarks seem you're saying I should find what you think ought to be there in the Akashic Records to substantiate your version of reality instead of mine. As if the Records are not a standalone and the contents depend upon the wishes of the perceiver.
That's not gonna happen. It's what one preys for they might "see" on the surface of the Akashic Records that is determined by the seeker. If the contents of the Akashic Records could be manipulated no One would go there. A house of cards. Graven images.
[He condemned my argument on with faint praise and went on to other things he had to say, but I wasn't done yet]
I'm not trying to do anything specific with your remarks but to use them to bounce in the direction of the topic to find drifting thoughts I can attempt to capture with words. Sorry if I lean them in some undesirable way. I do not seem to have any intention to tell some "truth", but rather to tiptoe through the tulips seeking some me-and-thee-ing that takes the cake with me.
[Then, I wrote a line or two I've been trying to compose satisfactorily for a long time]
"The gateway to that world is through the me. The only-est one each of us knows as our own being in the first person singular. Adam, by metaphor, who immediately upon birth starts nay-me-ing wot's what's found in the new world it escaped to in order to form a ground of being it can build upon as a basis for individuation."
Writing paragraphs like the one above is what I write for. The thrill I get out of what I wrote above is that it contains about a thousand pages of stuff that didn't say just that, and even what I constrained to two simple sentences above is not very well-formed. I wanted to write about Adam of the Genesis myth as Everyman who gets born, lives, and then gets sick, and croaks.
It's the naming of things in the Genesis myth that draws my attention. Naming and labeling the objects around you starts for Everyman immediately upon birth when one gets slapped on the rump to force the first deep inhale of breath to cry the first scream. Aiiiiyyyyeeeeee!!
The naming can be viewed as denial of that world one is borne into merely by spelling the process differently to go where no man has gone before. By spelling it n-a-y-m-e. The denial co-me-s by nay-me-ing. "You are not me!" Not-me-ing the world doesn't last long. Three score and ten. Any longer than that and you're just backing up. Nobody wants that.
Denial is a big deal. It's used to create a ground-for-being. You are the being you are creating a ground for. How else would being you show it has legs? A ground of being is necessary to develop consciousness of your being, otherwise you're just asleep or as Goethe described:
And so long as you haven't experienced
this, to die and so to grow.
you are only a troubled guest
on the dark earth.
The contents of this universal experiential database, in my opinion, are revealed to the seeker in a manner that absolutely depends on the seeker's quest/ion/s. The hero [ala Campbell's Hero Of A Thousand Faces] is shown what it seeks in the dreamtime, and it's options are limited by his own scope of vision. How much can does the seeker believe can be there that depends on it's imagination? Can you even imagine the everything you might expect to find there by definition? +++
There is an overall view. in fact, two overall views. The external view as the pearl is approached in vision (when all the contents are viewed as a cosmic soup) get revealed according to their proximity to the central focus of the diviner's vision.
Those contents that peripherally dance in a fairy ring as the tale is told have less of a complete comprehension in the same immediacy the focus of the foveal area brings. It's a "fill-in-the-blanks" kind of deal where viewing the other from inside the "library" itself inside the ring-pass-me -not/line of demarcation some call the event horizon, the contents are no longer plural either by separation or differentiation.
They are the sa-me. There is no perspective inside the pearl. There are no five senses. There are no five trees of paradise. There are no five sons or daughters or an invitation to guess how many angels are dancing on the head of a pin. There IS only me, and the contents of the pearl outside the event horizon all have their roots in me. They are what I am is.
If you don't "see" the contents of the Akashic Records it's because you're looking from inside the event horizon. It's a subjective situation. If you don't know what you're looking for as content, it's because you are part and parcel of the content of the Akashic Records, and you can't possibly have either the eyes to see it or the ears to hear the constant bleating of "the silence of the lambs". Like a light switch. The view is either On or Off, but it's more often a matter of location, location, location.
❦
Friday, April 2, 2010
The Dumbest Rash Decision I Ever Made
❧
A couple of days ago I got an invitation to join an e-mail discussion list on Yahoo Groups. The invitation was from a handle I am is a little familiar with peripherally, but it's never been the apple of my eye. The nayme of the group signified directly that it's topic of discussion was Gnosticism. Since I was unsolicitedly invited and didn't have to audition, and I can unsubscribe faster than it takes to go through submitting an application to subscribe, I decided to click my way through to blindly joining another discussion group about the Gnostic gospels found in Egypt in 1945.
This is getting to be a staid subject for me. I'm emotionally invested in Christianity from how I was raised to be a moderate Protestant Christian from childhood. But, during the pubescent stages of being a teenager I rebelled mightily against all authority figures and predatory influences. Hence, for a long time the religious training of my childhood became a focus of my contempt and derision, and stayed that way until the arrival of my second Saturn Return. It's beginning to appear as if I was invited to join this group in order to be humiliated, then banned, and somehow taught a nebulous, strained lesson about netiquette.
I seem to have become incensed by the contemptible behavior of the hypocritical adults in charge of bringing me on home to Jesus who were in no way Christ-like. I sorta think I decided to show them how it was done, and that may truly be the dumbest rash decision I ever could have made in all of my life. The truth of it is that I'm not a very good model of Christ-like virtues because I'm not in charge of how those selfsame souls interpret my rude, rustic behaviors.
Strange thing I just wrote in the paragraph above. It scares me to think I may have actually made such a decision. That comes along, I think, with having Mercury in Aries in my natal chart. Its written that natives with this particular configuration of Mercury by sign and house are possessed by certain chief features when it comes to residing in the 5th house of romantic love, and subliminally masquerading itself as a sleepy, well-fucked male lion only a fool would rudely awaken. He needs his rest to recuperate and exemplify the beastliness of his pride. Harumph!
Back when I was actively studying astrology and driving the few friends I had crazy by turning every effort they made to have a friendly chat, into a lame excuse to enter some insufferable diatribe about how brilliantly the practice of astrology put brilliant little ol' me orders of magnitude above them, and the other little people. I may be a little conservative about how arrogant I felt I had to be to satisfy my inflated image of my Self.
This idea I'm presently exploring is the opposite of the stage line I memorized to play the part of Colonel Cotchipee in the black play Pearly Victorious! The referenced line I uttered on stage was, "How low can you go, Gitlow?" Gitlow was the main character in the drama.
My query is about becoming a prima donna/diva in one's chosen field of endeavor as a necessary phase of mastery of any craft. Recently this theory was supported to some degree by watching a documentary on PBS about the tenor Pavarotti:
http://www.lucianopavarotti.com/
I've always been a chump for great operatic tenors. Hate operas. Love the singers. As a kid I saw the movie The Student Prince and I fell in love with the very idea of being able to be-co-me with showing myself off that way. I kid you not. I paid for singing lessons that never got legs. I am/was a big fan. Pavarotti was just the very best, and I never saw him in person. I never saw any of those guys in person. I might be grossly disappointed in their dismal humanity.
It was a passing mention in the documentary about Pavarotti that as he matriculated into the power of his art and his popularity he became vain and tripped the light fantastic with parading himself as a Diva. I became overwhelmed with autistic joy (as I'm apt to do in front of witnesses, dammit!) His response supported my conjecture that going over the top is a necessary part of the deal. How can one know they've gone far enough if they don't go tooooo far?
I feel like such a fool. But, that's how it is when you have Mercury in Aries. Aries is the ho-me of the Greek god of war. Natives can become extremely excited on a frivolous impulse or by a passing charismatic rabble rouser. Contrarily, the suffering incurred by unthoughtful reactions to frivolous impulses makes it hard to staunch the bleeding afterward. Where is my mother Athena with the ambrosia to heal me when I need her?
"Sometime I feels lak a motherless chile,
Sometime I feels lak a motherless chile,
Sometime I feels lak a motherless chile...
so far away from ho-me."
~ Old Spiritual Hymn
It intrigued me that Albert Einstein also had Mercury in Aries in his natal chart. Since his Sun was in Pisces it fits that he would. Mercury never gets more than two signs away from the sign where the Sun is framed in that singular moment of one's birth.
In Einstein's natal chart Mercury in the first sign Aries races ahead of his Sun in the twelfth sign Pisces. In effect this is reminiscent of the Star Trek spam about "going where no man has gone before". Einstein just followed his nature. It's a hard act to follow, man. '-)
In my natal chart the Sun is in the second sign Taurus while Mercury lags behind in the first sign Aries. This configuration with the Sun leading Mercury does the opposite of "going where no man has gone before", it's going where Everyman has gone before, and using that accumulated database as a frame of reference for separating the wheat from the chaff at the point of arrival of the in-co-me-ing.
Ti-me for my discounter. You gotta know I'm making this shit up as I go along, right? I attempt to capture drifting thoughts (like the new one in the foregoing paragraph) with words (woes-to-the-id). You do know about the id, right? Stuff that brings woes to the id (as cosmic soup) does not spread oil upon the waters to calm them down.
Tossed word salad... anyone? In the bejinning was the woe-to-the-id, and the woe-to-the-id was WITH God. Okay, okay... the demiurge.... No? Demiurge? Ahh, with the capital D... Gotcha! Graven images. What a bitch they can be if you don't nip them in the bud.
How could I be expected to contemplate my own life if I don't compare it with Einstein? The run above where I brought into play how his Mercury in Aries might differ from my Mercury in Aries has been delightful. I've forgotten the lingo real astrologers use when they consider whether a planet lead or follows the Sun in their calculations.
There are two other boilerplate considerations in this regard, and that's whether a planet/s is located in between the Earth and the Sun or whether it's located on the other side of the Sun from Earth and considered in it's unseen esoteric forms.
It's easily clear to me that it doesn't matter where or why the principles inherent in such considerations are place in any one location or considered at any particular ti-me. Astrology, along with every other system used to organize thought only ex-is-t as an abstract construction and the particulars of any system can be as flexible as any individual operator of any particular system can do as they please with the parts, and it will still all co-me out in the wash.
❦
A couple of days ago I got an invitation to join an e-mail discussion list on Yahoo Groups. The invitation was from a handle I am is a little familiar with peripherally, but it's never been the apple of my eye. The nayme of the group signified directly that it's topic of discussion was Gnosticism. Since I was unsolicitedly invited and didn't have to audition, and I can unsubscribe faster than it takes to go through submitting an application to subscribe, I decided to click my way through to blindly joining another discussion group about the Gnostic gospels found in Egypt in 1945.
This is getting to be a staid subject for me. I'm emotionally invested in Christianity from how I was raised to be a moderate Protestant Christian from childhood. But, during the pubescent stages of being a teenager I rebelled mightily against all authority figures and predatory influences. Hence, for a long time the religious training of my childhood became a focus of my contempt and derision, and stayed that way until the arrival of my second Saturn Return. It's beginning to appear as if I was invited to join this group in order to be humiliated, then banned, and somehow taught a nebulous, strained lesson about netiquette.
I seem to have become incensed by the contemptible behavior of the hypocritical adults in charge of bringing me on home to Jesus who were in no way Christ-like. I sorta think I decided to show them how it was done, and that may truly be the dumbest rash decision I ever could have made in all of my life. The truth of it is that I'm not a very good model of Christ-like virtues because I'm not in charge of how those selfsame souls interpret my rude, rustic behaviors.
Strange thing I just wrote in the paragraph above. It scares me to think I may have actually made such a decision. That comes along, I think, with having Mercury in Aries in my natal chart. Its written that natives with this particular configuration of Mercury by sign and house are possessed by certain chief features when it comes to residing in the 5th house of romantic love, and subliminally masquerading itself as a sleepy, well-fucked male lion only a fool would rudely awaken. He needs his rest to recuperate and exemplify the beastliness of his pride. Harumph!
Back when I was actively studying astrology and driving the few friends I had crazy by turning every effort they made to have a friendly chat, into a lame excuse to enter some insufferable diatribe about how brilliantly the practice of astrology put brilliant little ol' me orders of magnitude above them, and the other little people. I may be a little conservative about how arrogant I felt I had to be to satisfy my inflated image of my Self.
This idea I'm presently exploring is the opposite of the stage line I memorized to play the part of Colonel Cotchipee in the black play Pearly Victorious! The referenced line I uttered on stage was, "How low can you go, Gitlow?" Gitlow was the main character in the drama.
My query is about becoming a prima donna/diva in one's chosen field of endeavor as a necessary phase of mastery of any craft. Recently this theory was supported to some degree by watching a documentary on PBS about the tenor Pavarotti:
http://www.lucianopavarotti.com/
I've always been a chump for great operatic tenors. Hate operas. Love the singers. As a kid I saw the movie The Student Prince and I fell in love with the very idea of being able to be-co-me with showing myself off that way. I kid you not. I paid for singing lessons that never got legs. I am/was a big fan. Pavarotti was just the very best, and I never saw him in person. I never saw any of those guys in person. I might be grossly disappointed in their dismal humanity.
It was a passing mention in the documentary about Pavarotti that as he matriculated into the power of his art and his popularity he became vain and tripped the light fantastic with parading himself as a Diva. I became overwhelmed with autistic joy (as I'm apt to do in front of witnesses, dammit!) His response supported my conjecture that going over the top is a necessary part of the deal. How can one know they've gone far enough if they don't go tooooo far?
I feel like such a fool. But, that's how it is when you have Mercury in Aries. Aries is the ho-me of the Greek god of war. Natives can become extremely excited on a frivolous impulse or by a passing charismatic rabble rouser. Contrarily, the suffering incurred by unthoughtful reactions to frivolous impulses makes it hard to staunch the bleeding afterward. Where is my mother Athena with the ambrosia to heal me when I need her?
"Sometime I feels lak a motherless chile,
Sometime I feels lak a motherless chile,
Sometime I feels lak a motherless chile...
so far away from ho-me."
~ Old Spiritual Hymn
It intrigued me that Albert Einstein also had Mercury in Aries in his natal chart. Since his Sun was in Pisces it fits that he would. Mercury never gets more than two signs away from the sign where the Sun is framed in that singular moment of one's birth.
In Einstein's natal chart Mercury in the first sign Aries races ahead of his Sun in the twelfth sign Pisces. In effect this is reminiscent of the Star Trek spam about "going where no man has gone before". Einstein just followed his nature. It's a hard act to follow, man. '-)
In my natal chart the Sun is in the second sign Taurus while Mercury lags behind in the first sign Aries. This configuration with the Sun leading Mercury does the opposite of "going where no man has gone before", it's going where Everyman has gone before, and using that accumulated database as a frame of reference for separating the wheat from the chaff at the point of arrival of the in-co-me-ing.
Ti-me for my discounter. You gotta know I'm making this shit up as I go along, right? I attempt to capture drifting thoughts (like the new one in the foregoing paragraph) with words (woes-to-the-id). You do know about the id, right? Stuff that brings woes to the id (as cosmic soup) does not spread oil upon the waters to calm them down.
Tossed word salad... anyone? In the bejinning was the woe-to-the-id, and the woe-to-the-id was WITH God. Okay, okay... the demiurge.... No? Demiurge? Ahh, with the capital D... Gotcha! Graven images. What a bitch they can be if you don't nip them in the bud.
How could I be expected to contemplate my own life if I don't compare it with Einstein? The run above where I brought into play how his Mercury in Aries might differ from my Mercury in Aries has been delightful. I've forgotten the lingo real astrologers use when they consider whether a planet lead or follows the Sun in their calculations.
There are two other boilerplate considerations in this regard, and that's whether a planet/s is located in between the Earth and the Sun or whether it's located on the other side of the Sun from Earth and considered in it's unseen esoteric forms.
It's easily clear to me that it doesn't matter where or why the principles inherent in such considerations are place in any one location or considered at any particular ti-me. Astrology, along with every other system used to organize thought only ex-is-t as an abstract construction and the particulars of any system can be as flexible as any individual operator of any particular system can do as they please with the parts, and it will still all co-me out in the wash.
❦
Thursday, April 1, 2010
The Confidentiality of a Total Stranger
❧
There has to be something illegal about me plagiarizing my own material written for other reasons. I wrote the paragraph below as a response to an e-mail discussion, but sometimes I wonder if I don't possess ulterior motives that transcend individual, but separate events:
"It may be a subjective thing thats particular to my me. I've looked for tricks to help me say what I see in the light of my need for speed, and I discovered that I was attempting to ascertain the truth or falsity or ethics or moral turpitude about such drifting thoughts, to see if they were worthy of my displaying them in my glass menagerie. As a result, I deemed that dumb and stopped trying to tell the truth and just right amorally. I sleep much better with my dreams now that I've taken them off the trial docket."
The truth for me these days is that the few people who take the trouble to critique my writing state that I'm not unfolding what I write about as lucidly as I could with a little effort. Not everybody keens my shorthand method of description. Why would I care? It all poetic license to me. I never liked exposing myself with prose anyway, so I make the prose I wrote a mystery about what I'm not saying with poetry. Besides, who doesn't like "fill-in-the-blank" propositions that let the reader feel good about whatever they've decided to read into what I wrote just for them. Maybe...
Using projection as a method of discovery can be soooo smug. It's such a powerful paradox that even though the dynamics of it can be super understood, each of us are still subject to how it is what it is, and what it can't be simultaneously.
The most useful way I've practiced grokking the innards of my theory of projection is by reading palms. Reading palms is "saying what you see" as a way of soothsaying or fortune-telling. Well, in a way it is, but more importantly it's a slick way of getting to hold hands with a lotta people of both genders day in and day out for as long as you're fool enough to attract a crowd to make it happen. It's not always easy to trick them into having one of the most intimate conversations they're ever gonna have for their entire life, and with a perfect stranger they'll never see again as a unspoken proviso.
It's a very ancient, addictive path to follow. I not only told the people whose palms I read my heart-felt impressions, but my doing that elicited heart-felt impressions, however fleeting, from them in return. It's a special situation such that if it's practiced by a local who won't disappear could get them murdered as a false priest who takes confession as the basis for blackmail. Hey, who wouldn't do that? Me. I should have I suppose, but that would blow my chance to be intimate with people. Nobody wants that. Unless they're just assholes, then...
That's one of the ways you take your life into your own hands by playing around with the occult. It is sayed from old that God works in mysterious ways, and no human can gnow the mind of any of the gods. That's why they gods, and earthlings ain't.
The real problem with entering the underworld is that the consequences of one's actions is hard to "see" in the darkness. That's hardly a threat in light of the species flaw that governs homo sapiens topside, however but it's easy to acquire karma almost innocently in the blink of an eye, and never get past being a newbie. What a drag, man.
The one factoid about learning to read people is that you is people too. If they're subject to the species flaw of homo sapiens, and you're a homo sapiens, and the flaw applies to every single member of the species without exception, that flaw makes every prophecy about you. You gotta be really, really aware all the ti-me you playing around with this dynamic or you can sink your own ship by shooting yourself while standing on deck in both feet. Glub... Glub...
Most occult practices are designed to overcome the species flaw. Success in reaching the probably mythical end game is reputed to be slim pickings. No blame.
❦
There has to be something illegal about me plagiarizing my own material written for other reasons. I wrote the paragraph below as a response to an e-mail discussion, but sometimes I wonder if I don't possess ulterior motives that transcend individual, but separate events:
"It may be a subjective thing thats particular to my me. I've looked for tricks to help me say what I see in the light of my need for speed, and I discovered that I was attempting to ascertain the truth or falsity or ethics or moral turpitude about such drifting thoughts, to see if they were worthy of my displaying them in my glass menagerie. As a result, I deemed that dumb and stopped trying to tell the truth and just right amorally. I sleep much better with my dreams now that I've taken them off the trial docket."
The truth for me these days is that the few people who take the trouble to critique my writing state that I'm not unfolding what I write about as lucidly as I could with a little effort. Not everybody keens my shorthand method of description. Why would I care? It all poetic license to me. I never liked exposing myself with prose anyway, so I make the prose I wrote a mystery about what I'm not saying with poetry. Besides, who doesn't like "fill-in-the-blank" propositions that let the reader feel good about whatever they've decided to read into what I wrote just for them. Maybe...
Using projection as a method of discovery can be soooo smug. It's such a powerful paradox that even though the dynamics of it can be super understood, each of us are still subject to how it is what it is, and what it can't be simultaneously.
The most useful way I've practiced grokking the innards of my theory of projection is by reading palms. Reading palms is "saying what you see" as a way of soothsaying or fortune-telling. Well, in a way it is, but more importantly it's a slick way of getting to hold hands with a lotta people of both genders day in and day out for as long as you're fool enough to attract a crowd to make it happen. It's not always easy to trick them into having one of the most intimate conversations they're ever gonna have for their entire life, and with a perfect stranger they'll never see again as a unspoken proviso.
It's a very ancient, addictive path to follow. I not only told the people whose palms I read my heart-felt impressions, but my doing that elicited heart-felt impressions, however fleeting, from them in return. It's a special situation such that if it's practiced by a local who won't disappear could get them murdered as a false priest who takes confession as the basis for blackmail. Hey, who wouldn't do that? Me. I should have I suppose, but that would blow my chance to be intimate with people. Nobody wants that. Unless they're just assholes, then...
That's one of the ways you take your life into your own hands by playing around with the occult. It is sayed from old that God works in mysterious ways, and no human can gnow the mind of any of the gods. That's why they gods, and earthlings ain't.
The real problem with entering the underworld is that the consequences of one's actions is hard to "see" in the darkness. That's hardly a threat in light of the species flaw that governs homo sapiens topside, however but it's easy to acquire karma almost innocently in the blink of an eye, and never get past being a newbie. What a drag, man.
The one factoid about learning to read people is that you is people too. If they're subject to the species flaw of homo sapiens, and you're a homo sapiens, and the flaw applies to every single member of the species without exception, that flaw makes every prophecy about you. You gotta be really, really aware all the ti-me you playing around with this dynamic or you can sink your own ship by shooting yourself while standing on deck in both feet. Glub... Glub...
Most occult practices are designed to overcome the species flaw. Success in reaching the probably mythical end game is reputed to be slim pickings. No blame.
❦
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)