TROUBLES

Each culture since cultures began has its own language we know. By the way, the invention of language was not the beginning. It came long after man had been around on the ground called earth and mud. Doing quite well. It was the work of things like thumbs, wrists, and hands and feet he had to credit for that. If you were going to thank someone for your hands, who? Well, if you were going to thank someone for a boat, who would you thank? So, who makes hands? Do you even have to know a name for the maker in order to be grateful for the hand? And, if you are grateful, what does it mean?

A problem that every newborn soon faces without knowing what it is that is being thrown at him is language. By that I mean contrived languages of man. These things called words are all defined by other words, none are from the source of anything else. They are like dogs chasing their own tails. Words constantly change their meanings. So, they are foolish. Or, they are playing around and know it. Knowing it is the deal.

By age seven the child is another fool. I was. For example, people go on and on and on about God and love, and truth and responsibilities and have not a clue about what they say. At some point we say something like,
                                 

 "Hey, You, I was just playing around and now I know it"



and hope to God it is not our last breath we are taking when that moment comes.

I could go on but why? I am not able to do this for you. Just point. I am using words and you know what they are like. So, there you have it. The fox is inside the henhouse.

I wanna talk a moment, point out, something about gestures. Gestures are made by life itself, a powerful force inside the one who gestures. Nobody else asks, What did that mean? Because we are alive we know. We have no need for a book of gestures. In fact, that would restrict them to the point of being doubted. Maybe there is some wisdom here. I suggest that breath can be seen as a kind gesture. The first word? And, the last? Have we any need of a book to take a breath? Is our relationship with life fulfilled in each one without debate? I bet we can plug language into the source of gestures and make sense of it all. That might just do it. Would we have to do it together all at once? One, two, three go, maybe?

CULPRITS

Someone said, pay attention to the good 

things about your life, your family, your friends, your job 

and forget about the thorns, the problems they cause 

you, go ahead and enjoy your life. Really? That is dumb 

advice if ever any has been given. How can you? It is 

impossible to remember the rose and forget the thorn for 

the thorn will surely stab you if you try and that is going 

to get your attention! It is there. And, you put it there 

when you decided the good things belonged to you. The 

rose belongs to no one. As such, it belongs to all. If you 

choose to leave it on the briar it has no thorns for you. 

Leave the gold and diamonds in the mountain. Leave the 

snake to be its own self. Ride only the horse that comes 

to you and invites you upon its back for a thrill and only 

so long as such a mustang is in the mood for a rider. 

Otherwise, do not complain of the thorns. Admit you are 

the culprit in your own life.

The garden as such should never be organized. For the same reason 

a man should resist all attempts from outside to organize his way. 

We must be who we are if we hope to understand in the language of 

all things. To fail in this is great loss.

Who Cares?

I care yet I may rebuff you.

I care yet I may snuff you.

I care yet I may neglect you.

I care yet do not always respect you.

I care yet I may deny you.

I care yet in some ways I hog tie you.

I care yet I may betray you.

I care yet may waylay you.

I care yet I discount you.

I care yet I renounce you.

I care yet often forget you.

I who care pretend I never met you.

Let's start o'er-

I don't care yet no one comes before you.

I don't care yet I adore you.

I don't care yet never lie to you.

I don't care yet I would die for you.

We're like this- a bunch of goofballs riding on a spaceship we named Earth at tremendous speed having begun an adventure beyond all imagining by dedication to the courageous process of learning to crawl now dreaming of building and piloting spaceships to travel to other spaceships since we have neglected and abused this once pristine blue one and want a new start away from those we view as troublemakers hoping to leave them behind...and they are us.

Only a person who finds it in himself to resolve all problems from the truth of his existence will know what he was born to do. While one depends on any others for safety and direction and the dollars to pay for his needs one remains crippled, sad, lonely and dissatisfied. All one needs is in storage safely awaiting delivery to you by the hands of everybody you meet as if by magic at the exact right moment in time. You know that. You knew it at the beginning.

You doubt what you know because you are haunted by ghosts placed in your mind to lead you to depend upon society, the total ghost, for all your needs from cradle to grave. And beyond. (Although there is no evidence society has more than a story for that one.) It has pills and donuts and dirty pictures and toys that break and all the rest, though. You will not want for a thing, it is said. Sign up. Then call the police or fire department or insurance companies or one of the other many friendly government offices or a church or the military industrial complex into your problems to solve them for you. All of your many enemies surround you now. Get help. Fight cancer. To fight it you are going to need experts and we have plenty. Cancer hates you and is trying to kill you. Do you believe that? Sign up.

What bullshit!

All the named enemies you fear, all and every one of them, are but illusions. That is so. Rattlesnakes do not want to bite you. That is the last thing they want to do. You are not on their menu. Taste awful. Tough. Anyway, they need to conserve the venom. So, they warn you before they strike. Do you know even one human friend who will do that for you? No sir. Other humans warn you only when they have no intention of striking...yet. When they decide to kill they strike from ambush and with greater numbers and more weapons than you.

In the human realm the only enemies you have are the result of one of your ghosts having provoked one of theirs. The only war is the one constant war in the ghost world (world of the total ghost) you believe you inhabit because you now are the ghosts placed in your mind in combination. That is what doctors treat so they promote its actuality and your fear of it. The doctors are as crazy as your (and their) ghosts permit them to be. The moment you decide to call off the ghosts in your head and order them to cease provoking neighboring ghosts, you will know peace. It is not as easy as it sounds. In fact it is much, much harder than to continue to believe in ghosts. But it is great.

Oh, that is what you were born to do. And, you knew it at the beginning.

Your  real interests are success and power. 

You are at war with yourself. 

Why all these guards at the temples and airports? 

When will it end?  

The answer is blowing in the wind which tells that it will end for each one who responds to inner truth. When all are at peace war will end by itself.

I Am Serious

Here we are in this great puss pimple of a garbage heap hanging out with these freaks and we do not know what for,

saying everything else has got to go!

It happens.

Nobody knows why.

Suffocation perhaps.

One stands and is joined by

a few more.

Suddenly a movement is underway that no power on Earth can withstand. What was nowhere is the world's headquarters for a spell. What a spell!

And it is over.

Did anybody learn a thing? Not really. But somebody made another killing.

Fashion.

I am looking for another who sees what I see. Are you there? Out there? Anywhere? I am Billy the Kid's alias step brother. No credentials. I heard a minstrel who is different. Calling into a vacuum of dark cold space that was my heart until it warmed and began to ache for unknown existence in a language never heard before. It calls for anything but what is the current style of dress and conduct. Misconduct. It says any fashion will do. To accommodate everybody. There is a language in every language that is understood by all. There is a voice which sounds out souls. Souls are formless realities that give every form its such-ness. Like the dialog of a play does to actors. Do not confuse the symbols for the sincere dialog, a formless wave. Waves without form need love in order to make cookies we can actually eat. When we speak to another we wave their being. In ignorance, we wave it wrong and they retaliate. In truth, with a low voice, love's voce, we wave it perfectly. Harmony happens. I used the word love. Nobody knows what that means. It springs from the unknowable. To un know. A word that is unknown is fresh. Is always out of fashion. It is better left undefined for it is not its meaning we want but its unapprehended nonmeaning-ness which gives sight to sore eyes. I am wispy filament and I am serious.

END OF TAPE

The investigation is complete and the treasure found and the treasure is simple. Humans come to Earth with the profound inside them, all of it. Priests were invented when the attempt was made to extract the profound from its source and pretend it needs to be taught, making it the subject of special Holy Men or Women. Ever since, people have blindly accepted the situation described in books as if asleep. Priests' first job is to hypnotize victims into believing God ordained them to serve this way. Look close and you will see. It has always been priests ordaining priests.

But, even the most dedicated atheists have been so hypnotized. They are closer to truth because at least they do not follow priests. However, they are robbed of the divinity in their breasts as much as the hypnotized believers based on their strong and justified mistrust of the religious who shout, heresy! We all got robbed.

If you see a scene wherein a man and woman embrace and kiss in a way that causes a special feeling to arise in you and you have to name what you saw and you name it love you may try to teach others to love each other. You cannot. Do you not see that? It, what you observed, was in the people, not separate from them. Any attempt to separate it and deal with the abstract notion you believe you have found is madness which ruins something exquisite which remains at home in the hearts of us all. If you wish love for others do the obvious...love them.

Art is an inseparable quality of each human being to evolve its own beautiful way. Love is an art. Life is an art. Once understood, one automatically drops the names, life and love and art and simply and genuinely accepts what is. The feeling is peace. Once that is understood, one drops the term peace. The attempt to separate parts of what cannot be separated by naming them and then dealing with them as abstract notions you believe you have discovered is madness.

And it is the crude treatment science uses to understand something by cutting it apart and examining the parts. For instance, there is no such thing as agriculture. What you have called up until now, learning, is a substitution of fantasy for reality. All and every so-called helping profession is a form of madness. Little wonder they have such tragic effects on those they purport to serve. Rather than violently slice, chop and hack up art, decide to serve it. In so doing, you will rediscover lost abilities to know all about yourself and others in a new way of life that works!

Some time it's best to feel all alone…

gotta feel somethin' like that when you bo'n...

Some time it's best to be out on your own

jus' hands, a voice, an' skin an' bone

Nobody needs a suit to put upon

an' nobody needs his name carved on stone

What's yer name, boy?

Got nu'n

Let's go, Got Nu'n.

William Blake wrote all this better than me a long time ago. Most called him crazy. About here is when it pays to be crazy.

Men and women complain, they protest.

Write stories, answer questions from the press.

Organize their work and carry the torch into the street

pounding out the rhythm: Give all there's no retreat!

Demanding justice, with a will to sacrifice so intense

that to deny them any longer will finally make no sense.

And still there is no change that lasts. In a matter of a few years everything will be forgotten and it will be as it was before. One wants to conclude that man is such a useless animal he cannot actually improve. All his institutions are as purgatories. What is called for is a purgative which must be administered from outside their walls. How to escape...and the purgative...

It's a hard one to swallow. So hard is it that all who read it blush then go on to the next teaching so they do not have to understand the hard one. That means the next generation remains in purgatory. This is getting old and monotonous. Calls for a change of pitch or a new way of intoning.

Purgative: It is not enough to know with certainty;

what one knows must be so.

It was told in antiquity a long, long time ago

that the gods cursed man, not whole anymo.

What does that mean? And,

What's it got to do with the soul?

Man, wo man, two of us roll

in opposite directions 'round a donut hole.

and since nuthin else matters we're vicious…

disconnected monkeys and supersttious druggies

divided in sex and gender malarky

mad to reconnect; but too mad to ask Sparky.

Some times dominate other times be dominated,

whatever, just makes us more distrusting, frustrated

just to feel whole for a little while is a lost art

and every time we are asked, why not go and ask Sparky?

He say: I got no explanations fer ye

got no solutions to impart

jus wanna say: NOTICE

all the ways you have tried to once again be connected

all point back to the source which the gods disconnected;

and that's all; except when you do, think about forgetting to even try to reconnect because-

we tend to hang together with people who think like we do, or wethinktheydo

and the joke is that we do it to form unions who will join in our quest to destroy any and every thing that is not us and be reconnected by the necessity of being all there is left and that's a suicide pact combination last man standing scenario and the punch line goes:

see, you were whole all the time we were just screwing with ya.

I told this to set the stage for a finale I hope will enlighten me. The deal is it takes two to make a deal. The deal goes down because it's a deal. What is no deal goes not down. Only up. Whenever one person notices even for a second that each of his connections is connected to a trillion dollar bash, where all deals lead, that has at its core a terribly vicious nature that goes with us even when we go as lambs into a closet alone to pray, doubt falls away- in a one time understanding manner. All who go to a superior being for a real talk find a mirror. In the reflection is seen who you have been pretending to be. So long as you have not a sympathetic rapport with the mirror- you call it God. Am I now ready to accept that true love is by its nature bound to reveal truth?...then let it.

I am sitting alone at home on a Friday afternoon in April, 2016 watching the film Inception featuring Leonardo Dicaprio wherein a mature female actress asks a younger one, Do you know what it is like to be a lover? To be half of a whole? And for the first time in my life I understand that two, a male and a female, can recognize, not the other half of themselves, no, that is pure selfish thinking and loveless...but recognize the other half of a self that is whole already into which I am included...the other half of what is not me and never will be me is more like it. It amounts to the recognition of the unity of all things. Well, of course, it's love. Wild, free, untamable love. Later today, I was reading a novel and someone wrote that young men and women are soon used up in the magnetic field of love where they really were foolish enough to enter. Perhaps the best thing is to be used up in such a way.

I watched another film a few days later, a love story set in Greece during World War II. An old man tells his daughter what he thinks love really is and I had heard it before as well. He declares love is not the falling in love, the madness of all that. It is, he believes, what is left after that fades away, which he is certain it must because it did so for him. To the old man, love is an entwining of roots of the two people who fell in love so deeply that one cannot imagine living without the other even absent the madness called being in love. Sounds romantic but it is selfish. I do not buy it. It feels more like the two damaged souls who fell in and then out of love with each other were so beaten up by the experience they prefer never to risk it again. So, they decide this left over state with roots entwined (me and not me wrapped together) is real love. They make promises to each other they will break. That is how love first becomes another four letter word. What I am left with is the sense that what we complain about really amounts to the life in purgatory we designed for ourselves after failing to stay the course of love that grabbed us, chose us, for its own. Only in wild love is the haunting loneliness of isolated self overcome.

My teacher said recently that one understands peace first, then one can begin a practice to understand self. I wondered, How strange. What does he mean? Does it apply to me or only to the prisoners he speaks to in jails? He said to them, You need to understand both.

I see myself, not me, whole, and it includes equal parts of female and male vital powder merged into it so deep and complete as to allow for no other existence except as that. Bye.