Oxford Botanical Gardens, originally uploaded by midsummer.

Philip Pullman quotes (author of the trilogy His Dark Materials):

“Men pass in front of our eyes like butterflies, creatures of a brief season. We love them; they are brave, proud, beautiful, clever; and they die almost at once. They die so soon that our hearts are continually racked with pain.”

AND

“We don't need lists of rights and wrongs, tables of do's and don'ts: we need books, time, and silence. Thou shalt not is soon forgotten, but Once upon a time lasts forever.”

Break on Through

You know the day destroys the night
Night divides the day
Tried to run
Tried to hide
Break on through to the other side
Break on through to the other side
Break on through to the other side, yeah

We chased our pleasures here
Dug our treasures there
But can you still recall
The time we cried
Break on through to the other side
Break on through to the other side

(a comment from: postmodernputa)
So now Postmodernputa and Fullview Artaud are walking around an empty college campus. The world is still, save for the two of them. Now Postmodernputa feels differently. Something has changed. She turns to him and says, "I want to let go really not make love." Her eyes shine with tears.

Fullview Artaud stops in his tracks. He is as always full of wisdom, as he has found a way to break through to the other side, to hell and back, so he says, "When the Pussy embraces the Dick, it actually does not hold on its entirety, but rather has to let go --- lubricate itself for an actual totality of merging."

She bursts into tears, the fabric of her twisted quote-unquote love fraying. All that is beautiful seems lost. Grace --- and in fact Madeline L'Engle calls it kything --- has escaped her very being. Swimming in the many clusters in her head, all the romantic projections and memories of the agony and the ecstacy of what she once thought was quote-unquote love shatters into a million tiny pieces, like that of her broken heart.

"Babe, come, there is a time for letting go," Fullview Artaud tells her. "Keeping in. Wanting. Not wanting. But all of it is simply being you."

Postmodernputa contemplates succumbing into numbness. Perhaps she should just stop feeling altogether.

Fullview Artaud reads her mind, and to her he says, "No that's why I told you, just watch them [these feelings]. Let them flow. Like watching a movie. Be enraptured but still disconnected."

His voice fractured the night, the rustling of the leaves and the crickets chirping. Dawn is breaking. The morning sun, Postmodernputa awaits.

And then suddenly she soars.

Nobody would have understood what passed through her heart, the sudden surge, the spark that rekindled the flame, the reasons she created a new sky.

She soared.

"Prophet, speak to me of SEX."

The Visions started coming, the Doors of Perception opened, revealing:

* Sex as Truth
-When open we dare not filter, we are naked, vulnerable. Societal programmings, expectations dissolve in the intimation. Often we choose our words, find distractions and sugar-coat our real Selves. How many garments do we attach ourselves with? Find security in the hidden erection, the dried-up wetness between our thighs, support an illusions - a made-up reality that never was.

* A Lesson in Acceptance
It is folly to approach sex in singularity. Truth chooses no favorites but rests its heart in universality. Often our partners are projections of our ideals, the best turn-ons are a mental construct of dreams plus fantasies, resting on security. It is in acceptance and openness that we allow our physicality to turn liquid and merge with our souls - to become Spirit. Sex is the great equalizer.

(Photo by: satellitedream)

1. A Big Hotdog that stinks!
2. A Huge Slurpee... (Hope her brain freezes if there's any)
3. Pork Skin/Rind etc. - Chicharon! Friggin' noisy

God please let her stop licking her fingers and making that noise.

Without memories, expectations, apprehensions - am I Happy or am I sad? or Neither?
Today, I took the chance and aimed at completing several cycles I left lying around. I started with my soul mirror, and ex-girlfriend with whom I shared so much happiness with and with whom I saw so much of my personality portrayed. We sat without remorse, hopeful but not expecting. She says she no longer loves me to which I reply, "I cannot not love you." She looks at me, like a mirror that says nothing but simply knows and captures each tiny detail no matter how insignificant. She confesses how she need people to come up with decisions while I challenge this view by saying she has her mind made up and only needs reassurance or something to challenge her. She smiles and interrupts me saying, "I need to be on my way home."
Need is a funny word, it often becomes a doorway of possibilities rather than a closure for two lovers not expecting.

Next stop Shanti. A long time ago I lost my harmony and forgot peace, nearly two years after I try to remember (be a member again?) peace from a yogini's abode, an ayahuasca sister's sacred space. I visit to be fed, to remember Shanti and live Samsara. Like Herman Hesse's Siddharta, I had to be reminded, in fact reawakened into Life. My new cycle I realized wasn't born yet until I was neither happy nor sad, good or bad but just am. In being neither, I become all and soon after the smile became genuine - where peace, discord, love and fear just became integrated in the "I-am-that-is-aware."

AUM Shanti, Shanti AUM

Reflection:
The Buddha - He (She?) was neither happy nor sad. He wasn't a clown, an idiot or a mime. Yet, he expressed happiness, was carefree and had silence all over him. You understood but cannot express the understanding. In remembering I awaken in me that knowledge, an understanding that corresponds to fully coming back to life (Samsara?) with new eyes. To remember is to relive, to take part once again in a daily communion with the divine Self.

Madeline L'Engle (One King's Epiphany)

I cannot go back to night.
O Truth, O small and unexpected thing,
You have taken so much from me.
How can I hear wisdom's pain?
But I have been shown; and I have seen
Yes, I shall miss the stars.

Today, I woke up to an adventure or rather an adventure woke up inside of me. I often underestimate karma, or life’s motion. As a stranger I step into one adventure after another, disregarding parameters and breaking boundaries. To be normal is to be lost and sanity is akin to being ignorant.

It is also true that in a sense, my greatest fault is losing myself in the realities, infinite and individual universes, that is created by my kriya shakti (creative visualizations, visions, dreams, thought forms). In this Yoga or union still exists but inadvertently a hastening of karma and life patterns take place. My fault lies in often going too fast, being too selfish, self-centered (after all, in playing with reality one feels like the sun, the center of our particular universe) in the way I deal with humanity.

The funny thing is that at the speed of thought (kriya Yoga?) you caught me at a ‘hello’. I paused, even hesitated when your light decided to flicker my way. There was no drastic pounce or over-eager anticipation but more of seeing a miracle unfolds. I often wonder how a 70 year old man or woman will feel when they come face to face with their baby pillow (or comfort blanket), all fresh and alive. The question then continues, changing factors and characters, a second chance to live, to love or coming face to face with your first unexpressed love – then having the chance to feel wholly connected. This in a long paragraph is why I continually avoid two very spiritual and human (they are one anyhow) ‘topics’.

Love – which contains destiny, dreams, dependency etc. but which goes beyond time, rational thought and understandable definitions. Hence we often throw our arms up, give–up and face normality or go nuts, insane and let it burn through the very fabric of our being.

Past Lives – a series of intangibles often fantasized but don’t you ever wonder about the realm of Dreams? How infinite and unimaginable is its source? How do dreams begin? It isn’t part of tangible reality but we have already dreamt it – does it mean it doesn’t exist? I am reminded of D.H. Lawrence (his quotes especially from Bodiless God) saying, “Everything that has beauty has a body, and is a body; everything that has being has being in the flesh: and dreams are only drawn from the bodies that are.”

I would easily put a third category, often a taboo, and hidden from prying eyes simply because it’s either overrated or misunderstood – sex. Intimacy is a springboard of haunting. Lovers long for it, fantasize and even die for it. Like love it consumes you but at the same time liberates you. Just as similarly, lovers intuit definitions through silence, way-out fantasies, and role playing and descriptive words that have its own interpretation for each individual case. Once can estimate an excuse by saying, “It could all be simple if we could love all!” True, but being human there will always be that perverse yet honest right-fit, alchemical change, certain position, combination etc. that intimates a response. For me that’s why Fairy Tales end with a happily-ever-after, because the moment was so intimate that it will always be remembered, if not haunt the characters forever.

This all the way around seems to bring us back to the realm of Dreams. One character from Peter Straub’s novel Ghost Stories, Alma Mobley said, “Could you defeat a cloud, a dream or a poem?” Well, I never saw it as a battle; in fact, I did mention that it is our nature to dream, to go on dreaming…

Now about that pause, that ‘hello’ I mentioned, well that’s really related to two concepts (who in turn are also much related), the Zahir and Soulmates.

First, Soulmates, sine this has been one of the most addicting and controversial concept ever brought forth. The romance was engendered in the desire to dream of a perfect match, your other half completing you. Maybe centuries ago they were more in touch and the population of souls still thin (Don’t get me wrong, technically I believe most souls already existed but not individualized – a dense population but a small number) or something else altogether. Anyhow since we are all journeying back home, the concept takes a new dimension, a paradox of individual universality; of coming from one source ending-up in the same hole while infinitely divergent between the end and beginning. In saying that you and I are made of the same cosmic dust (Star Dust?), presupposes a certain sameness, if not oneness with the whole of creation. I do not want to limit the concept but am simply amazed with the diversity of distractions, combinations and alterations the universal viewpoint gives light.

Now, on to the idea of the Zahir (Arabic means visble, present, incapable of going unnoticed), quoted and reanimated by Paulo Coelho from Faubourg Saint-Peres’ Encyclopedia of the Fantastic (1953) as: “someone or something which once we have come in contact with them or it, gradually occupies our every thought, until we can think of nothing else. This can be considered either a state of holiness or of madness.”

To be honest although Coleho, is one of the top authors I often recommend, The Zahir, was particularly not as enjoyable or strong for a subject matter such as the Zahir. It is though, not wishing this letter to be a literary criticism, a very honest book, pivotal even – maybe but a lot of questions arise in the way he has portrayed himself (Coelho) and his characters in the past. I would want to know, “What of Brida (another book by the same author)?” Maybe we should just wait for the next book (although one day I hope you’d get hold of The Devil and Miss Prym).

Anyhow, having stated this, I got rid of the other reason I did not breeze through the book and giving way to the more personal reason: the book was shared to us exactly at the point we were unveiling ourselves (the true Zahir, our higher selves?). It is difficult to face another story when you have yours to contend with – a state of holiness, madness, dreams. In this manner when I first encountered the concept of the Zahir, years back, I was infatuated into marrying it with the idea of a catalyst, Teilhard de Chardin’s Zero-Point Theory and/or the Philosopher’s Stone.



“We did not change as we grew older; we just became more clearly ourselves.”
- Lynn Hall

“We turn not older with years, but newer every day.”
- Emily Dickinson

Madeline L'Engle (One King's Epiphany)

I cannot go back to night.
O Truth, O small and unexpected thing,
You have taken so much from me.
How can I hear wisdom's pain?
But I have been shown; and I have seen
Yes, I shall miss the stars.

I guess its time to Kiss the Sky, Pam?