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.