Series: Think Outside the Box: Book 1of 4
Writings by Sha’RaOn WindWalker
(in collaboration with Sha’Tara)
Copyright (©) 2014Cocoons to Butterflies Publishing
Published by: Cocoons to Butterflies Publishing
Chilliwack, B.C. Canada
Cover picture by Francis Valadj
Cover picture found on Stock. Xching,
Space Picture: ESA/Hubble
Next Series: What the Mountain Taught Me
I hope you enjoy these writings. Feedback is welcome.
Does My Life Belong To Me? 2
A Seeker’s Answer 8
Inquisition 2000 10
Wet Feet, Stalled Cars And Flowers 11
Double Meaning 13
You Are Loved! 14
A Naturist 15
Wrongly Accused 17
When None Of It Matters, It Will All Be Yours 18
Searching For The Key 22
The Mind Game – The Only Game 25
Endless Possibilities 27
Rekindling The Flame 28
When You Pray, God Works 29
Chaotic Thoughts 30
Does My Life Belong To Me? 31
Freedom Has No History 33
Die From Poison? Hell No! 34
The Stalker 35
Cruel Life 36
Free Of Problems 37
Unconditional Love 38
A Living Entity 40
My Future 41
What Does God Mean? 43
How Can I Awaken? 45
From There Then To Here 46
Now I Made It To The City 46
Health Care Industry And Related Issues 47
The Feudal Mind 50
In The Twenty-First Century 50
How To Judge 52
From Vision to Success 54
These books represent a varied collection of remarkable “outside the box” thinking (and subsequently, writing).
If you are one of those trammeled and importuned by strong beliefs that won’t let go, this could be your chance to break free. I’m not asking you to believe what is written therein—I can’t say I believe all of it myself—but it makes for an interesting “other than” perspective. Reading these books can be compared to painting by numbers. You have this standard picture outline and between lines are colour numbers. You match the numbers to the colours and eventually you have a painting. It’s not great art, of course, and everybody knows that but it gives you the impression that you did it yourself. We all know that is how the System operates. It gives us a number of colours and our life is laid out and numbered, from cradle to the grave. There isn’t much we can do about it, it seems. It’s the System.
Ah, but there is something we can do about it. We can ignore the numbers. Use random colours and mix them. If “3” is green, we do pink on one of the “3” sections and arbitrarily use orange on the next, and so on. Pretty soon the System doesn’t know us anymore and guess what? We discover what real freedom can be. It begins by breaking the rules; by daring to violate those imposed beliefs. Here’s one for you: Did man ever land on the moon? Of course they did, you will say. You saw it on TV, or you saw the videos and read the reports and documentaries, right? Ok, fine. But that is not the point since landing on the moon or not did nothing to change the way people interact with each other. So the point? The point is to paint a different colour on the “moon landing” section of your life’s canvas. A “fake moon landing” colour. Now really go into this idea. Break the template here, convince yourself it was all faked in some studio, for whatever political reason. Then proceed to prove to yourself that it was so. Study this bit of history; look at the clues. What happens in the end? In the end you realize it doesn’t matter at all whether they landed on the moon or not. What matters is, you dared question it.
The material in here questions “taken for granted” ideas, sometimes seriously, sometimes with humour.
You know, it’s hard to think these days, when everything is handed to us via TV and the Internet. Everything tells us how to think, and does so in the blink of an eye. We don’t have to wait for the President’s state of the union speech, or the preacher’s rant on a given Sunday. We Google!
Can a mind atrophy? You bet. Look into these booklets and think about thinking.
I walk in high mountains;
in troubled thoughts, a seeker lost
upon the snows of time.
In my mind, tomorrow’s storms;
in my eyes, an unshaped, unsure world…
But the wind, my constant companion
of lonely days upon the crags,
shifts and obliterates my old path.
On I must now go, with nothing to see,
but the swirling snows.
I fear to forge ahead
dreading this moving emptiness
in strange, unfamiliar territory.
Could I still turn back, I wonder,
knowing my trail was long lost in drifts…?
A voice in the rising wind
addresses my fear and loneliness:
“To give your life new meaning,
graciously accept all change -
let the rains cleanse your heart of bitterness,
the snows heal your eyes of blindness,
the sun dry those tears of regret
and just let nature guide you gently
upon untrod paths to new adventures.
All of life once was an adventure
man had learned to live to its fullness
‘til he lost his seeking spirit,
his childlike faith and trusting awe;
became time bound, space conscious,
blocked, fenced, cornered, captive,
enslaved and dying
in ever-expanding cities made of pain.”
Eager to escape the common fate,
I looked up and saw a way
leading to the very highest peaks.
A man sets forth on his journey
as newly fallen snow drifts eerily around
spreading in waves over a rugged land
unmarked by trail or track.
In slanted radiance, the pale noonday sun
breaks through graying skies,
splashing through white winter’s silence
and for a brief moment
he senses a breath of spring from afar,
a memory of green leaves touches him.
As he ponders his choices and direction,
squinting in the landscape’s brightness,
the wind whispers in the hood of his parka;
a voice which penetrates to his soul:
“Your life is much like stepping forth
through these drifting snows.
Tread carefully on their unsigned paths
lest ye lose yourself in this labyrinth
or lest some less experienced ones
seek to follow in your bold steps,
for as you know the shelter of the trees leaves a trail:
anyone fool enough to may well follow
your first steps etched on the edge of the forest.
These may sadly come to grief, or meet with death.
Remember that not even in this great wilderness
is a man an island unto himself… You
are still your brother’s keeper out here
alone on these wind-swept ridges.”
We who wish to die,
become the victims
of technology’s inquisition;
our emaciated bodies,
profits for the System;
payment for moral prudes
comfortably in false beliefs.
We become the tortured
chained without hope
to ‘death prevention’ machines,
kept in endless suffering:
and what is our crime?
Medical insurance and
the last of a few meager savings.
So I say: Inquisitors of technology;
physicians for profit;
let our pain-racked minds
finally rest in peace.
As the saying goes: set our spirits free;
let us return to life;
let us find our new beginning!
My mind is of the inquisitive sort, if you know what I mean. It likes to collect data, which later I can turn into this sort of stuff, something which might be interesting for someone else to read about. After all, we should all work together to create new realities, and we build these realities upon each other’s expressed thoughts, whether spoken or written.
When the feeling's right to go on a 'data collection' drive, I slip on a pair of old runners -- it rains a lot this time of year in Chilliwack -- and go for a walk. Sometimes it's in the early morning. Nothing beats watching the sun rise gently over those eastern peaks! But, at the same time, who can resist going out in the late afternoon and experience the brilliant colors of a sunset? Sure, I realize that the more the air is 'polluted' as they say, the prettier the sunset, but so what? If I choose not to see it that way... if I choose to see beauty instead of ugliness, am I not subtly changing the picture?
Yesterday, I chose an early morning walk. There was no visible sunrise, as it was quite cloudy, and it would rain at times. As I wandered around, feeling the change in the weather and especially the cool wind rising, I stepped in a puddle of water. Wet feet again! No matter. If I keep on walking, my feet will be fine, and soon I won’t even feel the dampness which will become as one with my own sweat anyway!
I see a mild commotion at the Yale and Nowell intersection and my curiosity takes over. My feet just naturally move me to that spot. As I thought, a car is stalled in the center of the intersection and people are becoming impatient. Why? I thought. Couldn’t they just get out of their vehicles and help the driver out? Maybe push the car off the street onto a parking space? It wasn’t a big car, just one of your average compacts one sees everywhere these days.
Well, no one stepped out to help, but as I approached, thinking that maybe I could, I saw another on a bicycle pull up and address the driver. Soon the two of us were pushing this vehicle around the corner until everything was back to normal again. The driver, a young woman, was very thankful for our help.
From this experience, a thought came to mind. Those who share love; those who provide help when it is needed; those who, even if prevented from helping for whatever reason, but who have the desire to do so, are like wild flowers scattered in a meadow of dried grass. You see them here and there, dancing gently in the summer breeze, after the sun has dried the bountiful grass, and your gaze naturally goes to these brave lonely hearts. They could have chosen (I speak metaphorically, of course!) to also be like everybody else. They could be grass. A passerby wouldn’t notice them then, would he? His tired eyes wouldn’t be healed either. And that’s what it’s all about. It’s about creating change by being a bit different; by standing apart from the crowd, not out of pride, but out of necessity!
Necessity you say? Yes. Back to my illustration of the stalled car.If no one had dared get dirty or wet. If no one had pushed that car out of the way, I’d hate to see what that place would look like by now, three days later! OK, I’m exaggerating. The police and likely, a tow truck, would have been called, and normalcy restored, but that’s not the point, is it. We don’t need tow trucks, you see! We don’t need our institutions which cost us so much money! All we really need is love. Bottom line. Think on this. Love is the power behind everything good we know. When we institutionalize ‘good’ we destroy the good in it! Something else to think about!
You see, when we create a ‘machine’ to take care of the business of helping others, we are no longer really helping. We are no longer moving love energy. We are simply unloading our responsibilities upon an institution, upon a non-sentient invention. Can you derive from this why institutions are forever clamoring for more money, and why they always end up being such miserable failures?
And now, you’re wondering how I got from wandering around in a pair of old, water-logged runners to lambasting institutions? Well, I just happened to be walking down that particular street and it had a few bends.
Why would God inspire writers
to pen “His Word” with double meaning?
Why not just come out and speak truth?
Say it in such a way there can never be
a doubt as to what is being meant?
I see but two ways out of this dilemma
of God having His way with man:
One: we destroy all vestiges of the Bible,
heave a great, overdue, sigh of relief
and live and love as we know we can
and no longer look over our shoulders
to see if “The Big Kahuna” is watching.
Two: we continue to give ear to “teachers”
who interpret the “Word”
as best they can, as best it pays!
But this method clearly shows,
there’s a leak in the bucket of salvation!
Some things get lost, surely
and meaning gets changed each time
an interpretation is handed down.
Or maybe it’s all the work of man:
maybe I should give up the carrot on the stick;
go to the restaurant for a decent meal
and pay the cook and tip the waiter
instead of the one who so boldly speaks
of multiplication of bread and fish
but leaves his customers hungry.
Someone says “You are loved”
And what does that really mean?
Sounds like a threat to me.
If someone loves me
it can only mean they are attached to me;
they can claim a part of me as theirs
by virtue of their love for me
and not much I can do about it,
it would seem.
Being loved means a lot of things:
It means to be owned; controlled; boxed in;
and if you are to hold to that love;
if you get used to it, or comfortable with it
you must also learn to live
by someone else’s expectations -
and dance to another’s music.
It means look over your shoulder
when leaning on the neighbor’s fence
or the sky could literally fall in!
It means you’ll do what she wants
or move when he expects you to
if you don’t want all hell to break loose!
For it is a truism the price of love
is giving up your freedom for another’s
for it was the Old God
the temperamental, tempestuous, testy
who made it abundantly clear that love is jealous;
to love means to own; to expect; to punish
when the object of one’s affection
doesn’t go the love’s intended way.
who doesn’t already know this?
draping a sun-drenched shore:
Ah, the shame, the sin!
Human nudity walking free
on a shore caressed by gentle waves:
Ah, the wonder of it, the stimulation
the thought brings!
A naturist doesn’t ponder these thoughts;
life is to be enjoyed, not dissected
not judged right, wrong, or measured
but lived in the wonderful moment
of pure enjoyment: let what comes just come.
A free being learns to cherish
the true beauty of personality, character;
to fully enjoy the companionship in another
while appreciating in openness
the sheer excitement of the human body
unbound from the disease-ridden rags
of passing times.
So, I say,
rejoice! Be not shy, be not ashamed
to express your own passion, your love of life,
your freedom found in simple nudity
among other’s of like mind.
End the hypocrisy and repression:
join in the great awakening.
Crises in life,
cause winter-like seasons of pain:
barren, lifeless, hopeless
seem those endless days,
yet winter can be a warm blanket
for those whose roots
find their way through the stones
and run deep within the earth.
Winters come and winters go,
each one creating new strength
in some non-anticipated way,
each one full of healing balm.
Difficult seasons revive faith;
sharpen spiritual awareness,
toughen the will,
harden the muscles.
How much are they
like gnarled roots anchored deep
within a changing earth!
Wrongly accused of a crime,
you stand in shame and rage:
anger eats at your heart;
instinctively, you seek to lash out
in justified self-righteousness.
But the lesson’s intent
is to transmute those thoughts;
to fill the spinning emptiness–
the vortex of this terrible rage–
and find peace in acceptance.
The perpetrator is out there, somewhere,
he remains free to walk the streets
and only you know he is guilty.
You are his only way out of punishment
and for reasons without reason:
are you a scapegoat…or a savior?
If in this awareness you sit quietly,
not speaking with bottled rage,
but calm and serene of heart,
the engulfing wrath may well pass
through the long, lonely nights ahead.
So shall your accusers pass
through this new-found life:
mere shadows in the light of your day,
and the one whose chains you bear
may become a loving friend,
a life’s companion,
in light of your understanding.
It has been several months since I received the “sense” that my life in 3-D as it is, has served the purpose for which I engaged in it. In other words, I have finished what I came here to do; what I had to do. I’ve gathered my life-notes and compiled them. Now I can decide what to do with them, with whatever “time” I have left here.
This concept of completion is a difficult one to comprehend (although it can be a lot of fun!). For years, I tried to understand the concept of unconditional love, and could not. Now I am beginning to see how it could actually work (or how it actually does work!). Unconditional love makes more sense to me since I’ve accepted that I have nothing more to do here. Now I feel empowered to do what I want to do. Contradiction?
Ancient Chinese culture understood that the universe is in a constant flow of transformation and change. The universe is activity, not as a consequence of force being applied but as a natural tendency, innate to all things and situations (paraphrasing Capra here). This ceaseless motion and activity was called Tao -- the Way. Absolute immobility or rest or inactivity was not part of the old Chinese philosophy (nor could it ever be a part of mine!).
The term “wuwei” used in Taoist thought means literally ‘non-action’ but what the Chinese mean by “wuwei” is not abstaining from activity (passivity) but from a certain kind of activity, an activity that would be out of harmony with the ongoing cosmic process.
Quote from Chuang Tze: “Nonaction does not mean doing nothing and keeping silent. Let everything be allowed to do what it naturally does, so that its nature will be satisfied.” If one refrains from acting contrary to nature, one is in harmony with the Tao and one’s actions will be successful. This explains Lao Tzu’s seemingly puzzling statement: “By nonaction everything can be done.”
My guide, Y-Lea said to me once: “When none of it matters, it will all be yours.” I see a similarity here.
I had a vivid dream some weeks back where I was enjoined to seek my place of silence. The "silence" would come by letting go all the "activities" I have engaged in over countless lives which are now complete and in perfect balance. From this silence, I can once more engage in deep activity, but now I am empowered -- if I keep my wits and understand my own path here -- to avoid engaging in unnatural or non-natural activities.
I should be able to fully engage the concept of unconditional love. Except for one thing: understanding of life! Unconditional love implies living a full life. It implies a kind of perfection of action; impeccability. One has to ask how can that possibly be “done”?Through active nonaction, of course.
Thanks to the new physics, we now know there is no such thing as solid matter. Every “thing” emanates from a web of relationships between sub-atomic “particles” which are not particles at all, but interconnected energy fields. The physicist Heisenberg put it this way: “The world [thus] appears as a complicated tissue of events, in which connections of different kinds alternate or overlap or combine and thereby determine the texture of the whole.”
So, life as we know it, as it can be known, is simply put, nothing more or less than relationships. Quoting Capra here: “[The] shift from objects [Cartesian/Newtonian physics] to relationships has far-reaching implications for science as a whole. Gregory Bateson even argued that relationships should be used as a basis for ALL definitions, and that this should be taught to our children in elementary school. Any thing, he believed, should be defined not by what it is in itself, but by its relations to other things.”
And now I can understand how unconditional love can work. It cannot work with solid objects, but it certainly is custom-made to work with relationships. So, if we “reduce” every “thing” to relationships, we should be able to see, sense, intuit, feel the flow of energy, and how our activities either impede this flow, or free it.
Oh, I almost forgot: change the concept “unconditional love” to compassion. Now it should make sense.
A breath of autumn lingers
among quieted evergreens
opening upon an alpine meadow.
Flowers of gold and purple
still bloom here
as the sun rises in the morning sky:
I stand in one enchanted moment
here perhaps for the last time…
I remember walks like this,
when the Spring Maiden walked barefoot
in the melting snows;
we shared our love in this place
we created with our passions,
worlds fit for children
but the hot winds of summer,
swept her away on their thermals
and I chose to stay
with the children of our love.
The crest of a rocky ledge
shimmers in the heat of the day:
a woman of long black hair
and purposeful demeanor
walks deliberately towards me.
The instant binds us, our arms embrace:
from a different place and another time,
we turn a new page, a new chapter
unfolds endless possibilities.
The September Lady returns
to warm my nights once more!
[Tears In The Rain
It is a hard thing, is it not
to know anyone’s tears in the rain?
Yet many tears fall thus
and only the tear-maker knows
how they were created
why they came to be
and where they went.
Tears flow with the rain
when the fabric tears;
when what should be
does not come to be
and what should not be
breaks down the door
to take away the child.
I have seen tears in the rain
for I have seen the sky
cry over the earth and the sea
many a time, too many a time;
when the sun could not shine
upon earth nor sea
for sorrow would not let it.
And the child that was lost
I saw again past her wandering.
I saw her somewhere
as another face in the rain;
another tear-streaked face
staring at a dark-grey sky
and barely did I recognize it.
I knew she’d looked her last
upon the things once called good.
Through tear-filled eyes
she’d reached for the hand of faith and grasped at the arm of hope -- but hand and arm dissolved --
how bitter are tears in the rain.
Millennia and the search goes on
for the key to healing:
a key we believe exists
but that remains hidden.
Perhaps as it is with the body,
so must it be with the planet
with the solar system,
with the universe!
Perhaps when that is realized
we can begin speaking
How effective is it
to heal someone today
only to have death
claim them tomorrow?
Perhaps healing begins
with an understanding of death:
what is the cause of death?
Do we know?
We know death is not a disease;
nor is it a combination of such;
it can be accidental, slow or sudden;
it can be desired and chosen.
Death is termination
of bodily functions.
By what law does death rule?
Perhaps we need to ask
do planets die?
Do suns die?
Do galaxies and universes die
as the human body dies?
For if they do,
no healing shall we ever find
on this world alone:
healing must happen
on a cosmic level.
Is that the Key?
For anyone seeking answers to the deepest questions (or I should say, engaging the deepest quests) it is inevitable that as the body ages, the mind becomes excited about its coming release from physical captivity. It expands exponentially – probes, images, posits possibility upon possibility. Prepares itself for a major lift and a major shift.
It is even more so for those who have experienced that “in-between” state most of their lives. We are fully aware that life is an endless search, goal to goal, passion to passion, each incarnation a jump to another stone in a flowing stream of infinite possibilities. Often you miss and get wet, or fall in entirely and go for an unexpected swim until another place presents itself where you can pull yourself out, stand in the sun for a bit, dry yourself off… and continue the game.
There are worlds where the “game” is severely hamstrung and often not even permitted. Where an individual is boxed in by traditions, belief systems, social mores, expectations and “leaders” who lead simply because they have the power to prevent others from flying free. So what to do? You play the game in your mind and somehow manage to hide this by letting “them” control your body. You become two entities, the real one: the free mind, and the sacrificial “partial”: the slave. The free learns to fly. The slave dies.
“Patricia Luisa Vasquez existed in a bubble of joy, independent of all that had gone before, not caring what would come after. She had never experienced anything like it. It had neither confidence nor euphoria in its character; it simply was an appreciation of all she had experienced, and would experience, a fulfillment of the compulsion she had had since childhood not to be normal.] Not to live a normal existence, but to subject herself to the most extraordinary experiences she could possibly have. The world being what it was, she had long since decided she would have to create those extraordinary conditions in her head. And then, the world turned upon itself. The universes had twisted in some incomprehensible fashion and delivered to her an experience drawn _*from the visions in her head, made even more wonderfully strange and [*outré]_] by history, by the actions of tens of billions of people, and who could tell how many non-humans?
Her moment was not solipsistic; she did not feel in the least isolated or unique. But she realized how extraordinary her life was. She had already fulfilled her wildest and most deeply held dreams.”
(excerpt from “Eon” by Greg Bear – Tor books)
In anticipation of my own exit (however temporary) from this world I thought it wise recently to do a personal analysis of my “condition” as regards my place here. To determine how much of “me” still resides here, on earth and how much has already gone “mind” to explore a way to open my own gate accessing the stacked worlds and proceed with relative certainty to the next level in the game. According to my “calculations” about ten percent of “me” remains in interaction with this planet’s life. That’s much more than needed to function “normally” here so I must continue to pare down. Since all I can take with me is what I’ve stored in my mind, it really is time to “lighten up.”
If Earth people understood the process of detachment they could change the nature of their world overnight – there are enough of them to do that. They would realize how wasteful (of material resources and time) their lives are and see how that waste translates instantly into global misery for all. If Earthians made the effort to know where they are going once they leave here, they would know what it means to be human and would no longer suffer fools to lord it over them with lies while keeping them in darkness about the real goings-on.
Remember that old classic movie, "It's a Wonderful Life"? George Bailey is the good guy and Mr. Potter is the old miser whose sole pleasure lies in obstructing the flow of goodness and making everyone else's life miserable. When George loses his identity -"You've never been born, George!" - Bedford Falls becomes Pottersville. A sordid town full of vice and misery. Violence and fear are everywhere. As is "Homeland Security."
Hasn’t anyone noticed that this is precisely what the Corporations with their New World Order are doing to the planet? That the George Bailey’s (those who bring out the best in others) have been all but silenced? That consumerism is showing its true colors as a deadly vice turning the planet into a war zone, an environmental disaster, a victim of a depraved “Babylon” of whom it is written:
“Fallen is Babylon the Great! She has become a home for demons and a haunt for every evil spirit, a haunt for every unclean and detestable [thing]. For the nations have drunk the maddening wine of her adulteries. The kings of the earth committed adultery with her, and the merchants of the earth grew rich from her excessive luxuries.” (Revelation 18: 2-3)
The same passage of “Scripture” exhorts people to “come out of her” before they too are crushed in her fall. That message never goes away because people, having recovered from some catastrophe or some war, simply return to doing the very same things that caused the “fall.” So every recovery leads to downfall and when some recovery has reached its peak of pleasure and madness (witness, for example the end of the roaring 20’s in October of 1929 and recovery from the subsequent depression dependent on a worldwide war… Is that how it must be? Who wrote THAT law? Well, we did… and we continue to obey our own folly.
Sometimes I wonder if only some lonely voice “from the Other Side” can actually verbalize the above knowing the times, seeing their truth as explicitly expressed in planetary signs – a voice that was of this world but is no longer. As much as there is excitement (for myself) in knowing the future and going for it, there is sorrow for this present as it presents itself. That sorrow is not attachment, but for a dream unfulfilled that has yet to be . It is a sorrow that follows one beyond this world and must, of necessity, color what one does hence.
Why is it one must transcend this world to see it for what it really is? Rhetorical question, I suppose.
I thought I’d forget all my troubles
hiking the high hills today -
but my thoughts betray me again -
turning my hopes to bitterness
until a soft voice interrupts
my internal monologue:
“Make your life a celebration,
not cause for regret.
Set a goal, a purpose, a direction
then enter every situation
with eyes wide open.
See your endless blessings,
the knowledge life has granted you:
put these to better use.
They will show you the beauty
of a cascading mountain stream
with a backdrop of jagged peaks
above scraggly pines at the tree line
just below the sun’s slanting rays.
They will give you a sprinkling of fresh snow;
the feel of a shiver as a late autumn breeze
finds an opening in your collar.
Is this not the dawning of a new day
filled with endless possibilities?
Why should you allow yesterday’s thoughts
to mar today’s joy?
If you came here to find happiness
just for one day, that is all you will get
but if you discover self-empowerment
such happiness you will find
The sun rises, golden, smiling,
over white tropical sands.
A goddess wrapped in white silk,
an ageless woman, kissed
by many such sunrises,
walks slowly through the surf
searching for memories
washed upon a timeless shore.
In her passion for love
she uncovers the mystery of life
hidden by ravages of passing time,
finding a lover pining upon the shore.
Hungrily do we embrace,
knee deep in crystal waters,
our bodies becoming as one
in sexual bliss;
our souls dancing in harmony,
reaffirming, without shame or denial
that love is the sacred path,
the fire that tempers the blade,
that rekindles that twin flame
which burns deep and strong
in memory, marking boundaries
of space and time for the soul.
It seems so long ago:
we met, touched, loved
as only gods remembered, can.
Other times, distant pasts, misty futures
reaffirmed: we find our time again
on a shore of white gold
shaded by modern high-rises…
blue dolphins yet come
laughing as always, celebrating
this endless blissful reunion.
A church billboard proclaims:
“When You Pray God Works”
Two reasons to call such a claim as false:
the first, and obvious, is stated clearly in their Bible,
that their God
(and they’re so quick to remind you theirs is the only One)
completed all of his works, in all their vast array,
on the sixth day of creation, declared it good,
and on the seventh day rested from all of his labors.
One would think that even ignorant preachers
would know this much from their procedural manual,
and their CEO: that he took early and permanent
retirement and that is that, according to the book.
The second, perhaps most poignant,
and most disturbing reason would be this:
that billions pray, every day, several times a day,
all of them to this One and Only almighty God
who promised to heed the prayers of the faithful,
and what do we see? A world so lost;
a world as much in demonic perdition;
abandoned, given over, enslaved to greed
as any science-fiction world ever described;
a world wherein licentiousness and murder are thought virtuous;
a world every day closer to becoming a garbage dump
and no improvements in sight——
this is the result of prayer?
This is how God works?
Or perhaps it’s time God’s followers realized
their God has at the very least an inkling of intelligence
and has become utterly fed up with mere lip service?
Their book talks of self-sacrifice to gain sanctification:
apart from some crazed suicide bomber,
where is the evidence of such?
Observe thundering waves
crash upon a rocky shore,
Hear the winds howl, tossing foam,
pushing brown sands to frozen waves.
Huddle against a smooth-worn rock
and feel the trembling of the Earth
with your tired, aching body.
Should I end my life now,
you ponder within:
leave this darkened place?
What use am I to this world that does not hear
words I pour from a broken heart?
Should I end my life-long dream
of planting seeds of wisdom
using the written word to touch
hearts open to receive
a million answers to their one question?
Should I give up the struggle now;
quench the fire that burns in my soul?
I look up to see a white gull
skimming the towering waves,
up and down, sailing the currents,
peacefully, gracefully, playfully
as one with the wild winds, unafraid!
Why couldn’t I playfully navigate
for another day at least, just one more day
the chaotic madness of man’s system
and live to write just one more line?
“When none of it matters it will all be yours.” (Common Wisdom)
If none of it matters, then my own life, the obvious of “it” cannot matter either. What then? Can I do whatever I please and to hell with the rest? Or is there a deeper message here, something that only those who “walk between heaven and earth” can know?
If I want my life to be really mine, what must I do with it?
Obviously the message says, detach from it. Use it in ways that benefit others, not yourself.
The unraveling of the Jesus mystery.
Two millennia ago thousands of individuals in rag-tag groups of slaves, peasants, fisher folk and a few well-off individuals got suddenly turned on by the idea that life is not a physical expression in a flesh body on earth but something as magnificent as all of creation.
They looked up out of their individual or collective gutters and saw the stars. They felt their connection to all that is. Then they stepped out of their comfort zones and walked. They met others, told them of their discovery and more understood. They also healed the sick, overcame man-made obstacles, were released from jail and when many of them were finally caught and condemned to die, they did not clamor for their rights; they simply forgave their enemies and died, often entire families together, torn apart by hungry beasts of prey -- for the enjoyment of spectators!
They had learned to walk between heaven and earth and found freedom. They had discovered that to have life one must relinquish life. The Christ-centre, that wonderful state of total selflessness that pays out in total freedom.
Looking around today, I cannot imagine a more appropriate earth condition to put this thought in practice and turn it into personal knowledge. Raw greed is destroying the planet and every remaining virtuous concept we ever knew. Whether it be wars and the threat of wars or global warming or whatever other catastrophe or cataclysm facing us, our current methods of dealing with problems will certainly create but more of the same.
Our parents and leaders bequeathed us disaster from their selfishness and short-sightedness. They would have us continue their pattern but logic and common sense say that is not possible. We have to turn away from their ways.
If I want my life to belong to me, I must give it all up. I cannot have my cup re-filled if I do not empty it. It is also a good idea to clean it while it is empty! Who knows? The water that refills it may very well turn into a great wine; something good and healing for this world.
Where does freedom come from?
Does it exist in absolute form
or is it but an abstract,
a thought, an idea,
a state of mind:
perception or apperception?
Can it be won or lost?
Attacked or defended?
Can it be imposed on another?
Can the statement: “I am free”
be universally understood?
Freedom has no history.
It didn’t come about
by preaching, teaching or marching.
It didn’t happen here and not there.
It is but a relative concept,
understood in countless ways.
More changeable even than love:
a dangerous word, a two-edged sword,
and those who least understand
use it always as an excuse
to impose slavery on others.
Beware the one who boasts:
“I live in the land of the free!”
A well-fed slave utters such nonsense.
Should I eat that can of stew
filled to the rim
with deadly preservatives?
Hell no: I’ll starve first!
I won’t let those preservatives
twist my gut in knots!
Should I drink that tap water
laced with hazardous wastes
leached casually from the city dump?
Should I ingest that chlorine
intended for the swimming pool?
Hell no: I’m not drinking the water.
Should I breathe in that smog?
Those diesel fumes?The sewer wisp?
My neighbour’s Presto log smoke
Or that deadly, unseen C-Monoxide?
Hell no, that way I won’t go!
And here’s the recipe for extended health,
strong teeth, good lungs, healthy bones:
Eat no food;
Drink no water;
Breathe no air:
You’ll die quickly,
sensibly virginal – no longer incensed.
Jenny’s heels clicked rhythmically on the worn cement walk leading to the old suburban house nestled in the shadows of giant maples. Every evening shift forced her to leave her small car parked on the brightly lit street and negotiate the dark curving walkway to the door of her downstairs apartment. In pouring rain, she entered the darkest part of the walk.
Heavy footsteps splashed, echoed, thundered through her frightened imagination. Stories about the stalker’s latest victim had made every newscast and her fear grew. “Stop and look back? No! Don’t look back. It’s only your imagination. It’s someone on the street. Keep going, hurry!” She started running, her heart pounding. At the door, she realized habit had made her throw the keys back in her purse and the light above the door was still out. She had asked the owner a week ago to replace it. “Why don’t they ever listen? They take your money and don’t care!” Tears filled her eyes as she fumbled in the dark. “How stupid! Why didn’t I hold them?”
A sudden gust of wind moved the branches of the massive trees, dropping a sheet of water across the unprotected doorway. The shadows moved all around her, filling her with dread. As her fingers grasped the familiar ring, a large rough hand closed over her mouth. Struggling to free herself to scream, she felt the foul, raspy breath of her captor, tasted the diesel oil on his fingers and understood. Her body went limp. The keys jangled upon the walk as they dropped from her inert fingers.
His sweaty, muscular arm pulled her over backward as he reached down to retrieve the keys. She was like a rag doll in his arm as he tried her keys one by one in the locks. Finally, after an eternity, he found the right one, flung open the door and propelled her in, sending her sprawling upon the floor. She hit her head on the corner of the closet baseboard and before she could recover her breath and try to stand, he had slammed the door shut and was upon her.
As Jenny’s world spun in a kaleidoscope of phantasms, her brief life slipping the bounds of time, the bitter-sweet memory of her first kiss flooded her mind: “…Phil!…”
would you make me
Would you make me cringe
at the thought of losing
Would you pass yourself off
as my greatest lover?
Must I spend my days
panting after you?
Lusting after you?
Fearing your disapproval?
And what of death?
Is that the moment
when you finally say it:
that it’s over for you and I?
you are a cruel mistress:
you come unbidden
and I am born entangled
in your web of sorcery
and the only way out
is when you decide;
when the bell shall toll for me.
Can we ever reach a point
where unexpected vicissitudes
no longer hound our days?
The ominous storm is brewing closer
and I stand alone
at the edge of time, or so it seems:
but is there salvation in time alone?
Can we ever be free in hope
of something sweet in the future?
Can I escape the rain
by wishing it away for another day?
Dark clouds erase an azure sky;
gale winds bow reeds and whip tree tops;
pounding rains ride upon the winds;
heavy showers pelt the ground:
there is no cover here for my body.
Cold and wet I come to realize
this is the truth of now:
whether the sun shone an hour ago,
whether it will shine an hour from now,
this moment is all I have:
like it or not
this ‘present’ is the key to life’s door.
Through passionate search and discovery, I have reached a new conclusion. The concept “unconditional love” is a misnomer for compassion. “Unconditional” and “love” are as oil is to water.
-- Love is a conditional energy. "I love you -- you have to love me." Even the great biblical "God" could not avoid that rule. If you doubt this, read Exodus and the other books of the "Law" where his love is declared ABSOLUTELY CONDITIONAL. This same conditional love is carried in the teachings of Jesus. There is no way around that if love is on the line.
-- It is a reciprocal energy. No reciprocity -- no love.
-- It is an emotional energy. All emotions are manufactured.
-- It is a marketable energy. It is traded, bought and sold regularly.
-- It is a manipulative energy. "If you loved me, you would never have..."
Love does not exist in a free state around us. It is created during emotional and specific interactions with others. The fact that it must be “made” constantly indicates it is never free. It has a price tag. Often, the price is so high one or both parties to love abrogate the relationship and the whole thing vanishes (or worse, turns to bitter enmity.)
Nevertheless, love has its positive uses for those who do not as yet understand the greater concepts of servanthood and compassion. It can conditionally move individuals to act kindly towards another, or others.
Unfortunately [from my point of view] such “kindness” uses up great amounts of personal energy. Eventually that energy, if not reciprocated, runs out, or limps on, on equally questionable concepts such as “hope” and “faith” – jealous sisters to love.
To hope for something is to believe that whatever one hopes for will happen. After a time, hope becomes either denial or a belief system. It is not sustainable otherwise. And of course hope vanishes on fulfillment. Total waste of energy.
Faith falls in the category of wishful thinking and tunnel vision. To have faith in something or someone is to remain in a particular mindset or situation, regardless of changing circumstances. It is to espouse an “unchanging” paradigm and live with it, rejecting all other possibilities offered, however logical and common sensed. Unlike hope, faith needs no evidence of any sort to function, thus giving rise to dysfunctional paradigms completely at odds with reality and with stated claims of participants. (Religious wars come to mind here.)
These are debilitating states of mind. They cannot be sustained, except by rare individuals. To prevent the loss of these feelings, intelligent and self-aware creatures create supporting realities for their feelings. Religion seems by far the greatest collective ever designed to keep both faith and hope alive. Religion assures the faithful and hopeful that things really are as their feelings (emotions) indicate. Anything that challenges these emotions is summarily dismissed.
Although it is obvious that these great time-honored concepts create what is known as “cognitive dissonance” among adherents, they work because Earthians possess what is called a “soul.” The soul is given to (implanted in) the human at some point during gestation, or at birth. Rarely later, but possible. Through this soul implant, the human can be programmed and re-programmed by those who own the creature. And who are these owners? Some obvious ones are God and Satan, of course. There are many other share-holders. Souls are parceled out, a bit like “space” on a communication satellite. A controller can “buy” a share of a soul and can manipulate that part. Some individuals are entirely owned by one entity. Great spiritual leaders, military commanders, musical geniuses, scientists, revolutionary leaders who demonstrate little or no confusion throughout remarkable and powerful lives have souls owned entirely by the God or entity they serve.
Shares in souls are always up for grabs. That is why Religion (and increasingly the other Powers) have special rites and ceremonies at critical points in human development to consolidate soul-shares to themselves. Since a growing amount of human free will interacts in the way a soul is apportioned, teaching the young is of paramount importance to win the human over and keep it. That is why in highly developed nations where choice is easiest, education is big booming business.
Some will say, “Of course” seeing the obvious in the above. Most will just hold their paradigm a little tighter.
Not my intent to hurt anyone’s feelings. But if that happens, ask yourself how strong you are in what you believe. Most of what I share with you is intended to trigger reality checks. How large an amount you wish to enter on it, is up to you.
Is everything a living entity?
a tree, a leaf, a drop of rain,
a piece of paper, a stone,
a hammer, a flower,
a cloud, a universe:
do they have feelings?
What does life have to say to that?
Yes, they all have identity,
existence, energy, feelings;
a sense of self-awareness
all being a part of the All-ness:
life expressing itself.
Thus do I understand; do I know:
everything deserves respect;
for I am of everything
and if I would be understood
I must express same in turn.
A simple enough lesson to learn.
But man has no compassion;
he is but a mindless consumer
that cannot feel the pain his needs
engender in a world that can never be
his to use or abuse at will.
And so he brings forth his own end.
There isn’t always time to ask the question: “How do I meet him?” I know he must come for me and I must face him, but how? And I know I must go to him, and he must face me, but how?
Each moment has a new face. Each is a different viewpoint. Each engenders a new feeling -- so how can I ever know?
Just let it flow, they will advise me, let it flow -- but how little they know of this. If I let it flow, the channel cannot be mine; and how will he recognize me? Or I him? We are individuals, he and I. Self-empowered. Shallow or deep, the channels we flow through, they are cut by us, and for us. No, we cannot just let it be for we are not made of someone else's ideas, beliefs, rules or laws.
Ah, well, perhaps…
I meet him on the open plain, charging with drawn sword on my black war horse against his white: he comes at me and slashes -- I parry, turn and cut – but he unhorses me, stands over me, blood drips from his arm -- his upraised arm: he holds the flashing steel to swing one final time but his passion burns my flesh to ashes that trickle through coarse grasses.
Naked and free, my mind twists around his heart -- he drops his sword, confused; he screams at the ragged curtain of cloud slashing through the evening skies and the sun drops quickly behind a distant silhouetted ridge as in fear. I watch him re-mount and as an ocean tormented by a hurricane the waves of his desire toss around me until spent he slowly ebbs away.
Still, we do not touch - and I wonder, can we ever? Curse him! Curse me! And I cry knowing that he can never end this madness, even were he willing to kill me. For I am of the undying and he, eternal. Two sides of the same coinage, he and I. Two sides who can never meet. For whenever one side is up, the other must be down. Creatures of passage -- sun and moon.The wolf and the hawk.Endless quest.Endless chase across universes and beyond – forever running, forever chasing, forever restless, forever wondering.
Sadly I watch him rise above the waves of his anger and confusion. I watch and I feel him - his eyes burn into my mind again and frustrated, he turns and scatters starlight for my feet. Whips a swirling galaxy for my pleasure, and makes a bed from a nebula - a single bed - upon which I suppose I am to rest my exhausted mind. Rest -- seems like a good idea.
Ah well, perhaps…
I stand quietly on an empty street in the dark and wait to hear his call. To seduce him. Lili Marlene under the lamppost in the loneliest street of the City. Waiting, heart beating... Will he come to take me to his bed in the middle of the night -- and will he wear a mask? Pretend he is someone else? Pretend to rape me? And what will I say to him? How will I continue this charade between us?
But still I know, even if he did come; even if he did pretend to be another, we would not touch -- we could not touch. Not ever. For when I am in the light, he is in the darkness and when he is Light, I am Shadow. No wishful thinking, no disguise, no subterfuge, no law can alter this fact until the worlds collide no longer; until all is still; until our immortality becomes meaningless. But then, why would we seek each other? The point would be lost.
Ah well, I imagine…
Running with tears in my eyes, across a green field, and he, seeing me, running to me. And as I come closer I can't help but wonder what would happen if... just if, the curse lifted at that moment and we would be able to embrace as lovers should? But I know if I continue on my course, he will blindly crash around and through me – His rush will lift me and helpless I will be swept back into their past and again I will, I must, forget all that has happened: he -- so strong, so wild, so untamed, so beautiful will be but a concept once more in the artificial calm of my not-knowing. The "future" I will say, numbly, as on cue. It's what they expect me to say, after all. What do I know? When I am trapped in their past, that is all he can ever be. And from there, I can never know him.
Ah well, so… where should I stand? What should I do? When not standing and not doing are
If you must answer these questions, answer them for yourself only. For this burden, this sorrow and this joy is the one great individual pattern from which worlds are forever created.
There’s a question about the Bible
in Christian circles, maybe others!
What does the Bible really say?
Seems it all depends:
if what I read is what I like
(then it means just what it says)
but if what I read I don’t like
then it’s obvious
the text needs interpretation.
Seems pretty simple:
I think the way to take the Bible,
not being of Christian persuasion,
is like any other political speech:
read my lips,
never mind what you think you heard.
I can look at biblical text this way:
I imagine God looking down
in perfect seriousness saying:
“I know you believe you understand
what you think I said
but I’m not sure you realize
that what you just read
is not what I mean.”
See? Now it all makes sense
Still, I have another question:
How will I know the interpreter
has figured out what God really means,
if God himself doesn’t seem to know?
By the monetary value
of his divine blessings?
By my health and happiness?
Well, by what?
All is stillness,
all is motionless:
This is the moment
I have dreaded, avoided,
though I knew some day
it would catch up to me.
I’m trying to comprehend
stalking me as a shadow
waiting, but for what?
I feel his cold presence:
will he take away
all I have ever experienced,
all I considered
my fullness in life?
I feel abandoned;
already but a photograph
on someone’s desk
or in a family album;
a name on a tombstone,
a collection of forgotten memories
and not much else…
everything is so still,
how can I awaken
from this moment?
Or is it too late for ‘me’,
as I’ve known myself
and time for something
Could this death be a new birth?
An opportunity to really live?
Should I just let go?
Coal fired train on seeming endless track
knifes through boundless fields of pure white snow;
long wails rise and fall in pitch across an emptiness
accompanied by rhythmic clattering of frozen steel:
black rails, black wheels support a black worm
wreathed in billowing, lingering black smoke
until the breathless silence reclaims its domain
fresh snow covering the lizard’s filthy trail.
Can such memories of childhood co occupy
the same now mind painfully contemplating
the endless snarling streets of the sleepless city
tumbling into choked and stagnant waters
eating the crumbling flesh of dying mountains?
How the child of then longed to get on that train
and ride to the great port city not yet heard
brawling, wailing, scowling at the end of the land
if only to escape the silent, changeless snows
before life could say, “too late, too late!
Sadly the now adult shakes a graying head:
what happened to the glowing promises
wailed out of empty ravines each week of passage?
What happened to future fulfillment and happiness
that so surely lay at the end of the line?
What sort of answer can one expect in the mutant noise
from the stinking, moiling, toiling flow of traffic:
a sick beast fighting to claim its dwindling space
upon the grey backs of constricting serpents without lairs
angrily writhing, twisting, criss crossing -
ever expanding the boundaries of man’s hell?
Local observation: Abbotsford built themselves a brand new hospital and “cancer” center. Not to be outdone, Chilliwack is renovating its own hospital. An interesting aspect of this hospital building is a constantly changing billboard that (currently) shows two empty seats and the caption “Imagine your own E.R. – don’t wait to donate!”
I am trying to imagine what it would be like to own my own E. R. but first, I’d have to find out what that is. Does it mean what I think it means: emergency room? Wow. Impressive. Instead of calling 911 next time I have an emergency, I just drive down to my very own E. R. and… ? Well, whatever. Probably sit in one of those empty seats and wait for something to happen. I can imagine someone in a green gown handing me a cup full of colored pills and a glass of water, then sending me back home with a fist full of prescriptions.
This makes me realize that life certainly cannot be complete unless two absolute necessities are met: First, and most important, one must own a burial plot, and enough money to place some impressively carved slab on it. Two, one just has to own one’s own E. R. however difficult it is to imagine that, or even dare have such a dream. I know that if I manage both, my life will suddenly become filled with joy and laughter. I’ll have it made. Nothing left to worry about. After all, that pretty well covers it.
This makes we wonder about the whole health thing. I don’t have much to do with that; in fact I have steered clear of any health-related stuff for over a quarter century now (that sounds more impressive than saying “25 years” doesn’t it?) so you could say I lack expertise in that area. Nevertheless I’ll hazard some dangerous opinions here. Hospitals, to me, are just another kind of prison, and I’ve avoided those also. I don’t like being caged in and force fed, hence I quit school (more than once!), quit church (or churches, not sure which it was I ran away from) and quit every job that demanded I stay put in a building for several hours at a stretch day in, day out. I like fresh air because I know that it is a channel for fresh ideas.
Forget hospitals. Let’s talk about health care workers, specifically the most important one: doctors. They’re so important because the only reason they do what they do is because they are empaths and they can’t help themselves, so they are totally trustworthy. It wouldn’t matter to them if they got paid as long as they were provided for: they just want to make people well, whatever it takes. Utterly selfless individuals, worthy of our full and constant admiration. They are the healers.
Digressing a bit here, I have to state that prior to my personal satyagraha (that’s non-violent non-cooperation for you out there who never watched the movie “Gandhi”) regarding doctors, I had issues with them. My problem was quite simply this: the unfairness of it all. When I set out to fix something, or upgrade something, I had to made sure that I did the job right the first time. If the thing didn’t work, I had to return and make it work, and I can assure you that I didn’t get paid the second time!
So here I am, a grungy service tech, or equally grungy home handyman of all sorts, and I have to make sure my work, works! I have to guarantee my results and stand behind them one hundred percent. That’s not only expected, it’s the law. But a doctor with his degrees, and his high-end salary does not have to guarantee results and not only that, he gets to charge over and over for the same unresolved issue. You know what? To me that’s highway surgery… I mean robbery. Back in the days of Sumer and our friends the Anunnaki (I talk about them once in a while, and not just because I like reading Zecharia Sitchin) when Earthians were trained to become “doctors” they did not have such leeway, nor did they have malpractice insurance. What they got, according to the clay tablet records, was the equivalent of the firing squad if a patient died under their care. I can’t imagine my own E. R., but I can imagine what would happen to the “medical profession” if the same standards were put back in effect today. Kill a patient, you die. “You shittin’ me?” says the prospective med student, as he packs up his gear in his Beamer and heads up to trade on Wall Street.
This brings up the question, why are “doctors” increasingly getting public reputations once reserved for loan sharks, realtors, bankers, lawyers, building contractors, mob leaders, elected officials and their agents? Isn’t it because that particular profession has increasingly become a matter of money? It was said long ago that “Money is the root of all evil.” Oh, how modern Capitalistic religions have fought to “correct” that statement by adding the precedent: “The love of” to it! All you need do now to slip out of condemnation regarding your handling of money is deny that you love it. You like making it, having it, playing the markets with it, buying with it, selling to get it, extorting with it… but you don’t love it so no problem. Money is not the root of all evil, or even of some evil. BP did not drill that hole in the Gulf of Mexico looking for money. They just wanted to keep everybody driving happily all around the planet and make a bit of extra money to play with. What’s wrong with that?
Do doctors (especially the specialists) love money? Well, do they drive expensive cars? Do they belong to exclusive clubs? Do they own lavish houses, usually on hilltops? Do their kids go to the best private schools? For the most part, yes to the above, exceptions noted: they always prove the rule, simply because if you point to an exception, then you re-establish the rule!
Why do doctors love money? I think it has to do with their education. Especially their medical school education. A very expensive proposition, and the loans have to be paid back (or what: they take away your staff with the snake crawling on it? Or your Hippocratic Oath? “Sorry, we know you’re an excellent brain surgeon but you can’t practice until your outstanding loans are paid. Go work in the hospital laundry until your loans are paid.”)
But that’s not all. We can go way back to grade school and see what goes wrong. In grade school “they” begin to sort out the brainerds from the waywards and the dullards. The brainerds have the ability to remember details. They have a wonderful short-term memory and they can pass the tests with flying colors. They can also learn the techniques of grammar and so write passably well, and they can do math and ace the sciences. They remember how these things go together. And, they are willing to eschew some social time to do research; to cram in piles of data, useful or not later on, as long as it is useful to pass the tests. You have to pass those tests. I know this, I was there a couple of hundred years ago. And it was fun too.
I’m no spring chicken and I’ve met lots of people along the way. I’ve met very few professionals I could care for, especially when acting in their professions. But I’ve met ordinary people who reminded me that there are angels on this planet. People who care about others, or about animals, or the planet and its woes. This being a rich country with public education, most of these people had some rudimentary government-dictated “education”. They could read and write and some could stand in front of a room full of people and give powerful impassioned talks on certain subjects. I don’t remember ever admiring a professional—though I can remember thinking how contemptible most of them are—but I do remember admiring these simple people. And I also knew they were going nowhere in this society. They didn’t have that rapine instinct working for them. They weren’t out to take by force, but just trying to help, sometimes demonstrating what really works and maybe convince some in the process. And, they did not do it for the money: that’s what always impressed me the most. They earned their wages with real labor.
In my opinion, these are the people who should have made it through the medical schools; who should be in your doctors’ offices and doing the rounds in your hospitals. The System grades people on two things: scholastic achievement and financial solvency. If you can remember enough facts long enough to ace the tests and if you can pay the tuition, you’re a doctor. And today you can even be a woman or a non-white person and become a doctor, if you can afford it, that is.
Really, what should be measured is the degree of empathy and compassion a young person demonstrates under everyday circumstances. But then where would the massive, BP-style oil drilling gusher profits be in the health care industry (yes, it is an industry, no different than manufacturing steel pipes--except these pipes guarantee results-- if that was the case? Where would Big Pharma be if you had healers instead of doctors in your hospitals and clinics? And why would you need to own your own E. R.? Hell, if things were handled properly, you might have a lot longer time to think about that burial plot and the slogan on the slab would keep changing.
So, dream on.
I’ll say it again: I don’t watch TV; I don’t listen to radio and I don’t read newspapers or magazines. And, whenever I can avoid it, I don’t do “net-surfing”. But I’m not unaware of what is going on in the nut-house. It’s quite impossible not to be aware because everything on this world has become a glut of “dis’n dat-information”.
For example, I know that Canada just experienced another pointless national “erection” that gave birth to another insecure and dangerous idiot in the political nursery called Ottawa. It won’t mean anything new in the long run. Border guards will be given side-arms to shoot at Canada geese entering the country without a Canadian flag tattooed on their ass and Canada will spend more lotto money on creating a larger military to assist in Uncle Sam’s genocidal efforts in the Middle East. Probably, if the idiot gains a foothold, gays and lesbians will be given a rougher ride – you have to have somebody to blame for shortcomings in any fascist regime after all – that’s the law – and we’re short on Jews and “African Canadians” to beat up on. Can’t touch the other guys, Ottawa needs their vote.
I’ve been thinking about world leadership as it is developing. Not just in government, but in business and religion. What I am seeing, and that should come as no surprise, is a modernized version of the feudal mentality among these people.
If you remember some of your history, feudalism was a time when local lords – barons, dukes, earls, bishops, counts (and those who couldn’t count or didn’t count) had power of life and death over serfs and peasants – these being little more than slaves. These aristocrats had to pledge fealty to some greater lord known as a king. The king (royalty) collected taxes from the lords (aristocracy) and waged wars against neighbouring kingdoms, or sent ships and armies to wage wars in distant lands at the behest of the Church and the promise of loot.
Most members of these aristocracies and royalties were quite ignorant people, as were those who ran the affairs of the Church. But who cared? There was no one else to take their place and even if they poisoned, stabbed or otherwise murdered one-another for the “succession” – it made no difference to the serfs and peasants. Their miserable huts were still burned, their crops trampled, their virgins raped and their able-bodied boys and men forced into rag-tag armies to go die in some field or at the foot of some “keep” surrounded by a moat somewhere… anywhere, for no good reason, no better reason, no reason.
As we look over today’s leaders it becomes clear that evolution has gone backward. Human society has inexorably returned to the concept of feudalism in religion, politics and economics. For example, the Bush League that lords it over the most powerful kingdom on earth is not an imperialistic family as were all its predecessors: they are nothing more than ignorant, vile and violent feudal lords. And predictably they claim that God is on their side and the Church (in some form) is there to make it so.
They are not the only ones. Most CEO’s today have been exposed as equally ignorant and vile. They see natural “resources” including human beings, as an exploitable commodity granted to them by “God” or the New World Order Church they serve, the WTO. They have no conscience and no honour. Their greed and arrogance knows no bounds. The corporations they rule are constantly breaking laws on human rights and fair trade. But who can stop them?
What I foresee from this is the implementation of a new “Magna Carta” – perhaps not globally but certainly in the USA. I see individual states rebelling against the White House and forcing King George (or any of his “descendants”) to grant individual states greater autonomy on the collection of taxes and in why and how foreign wars are fought. I see them overthrowing their own lordlets and “dis-counts” – the so-called senators and congressmen who for the most part are bought and paid for by the corporate world lobbyists and Washington. I see individual States, or groupings of such, becoming independent nations in their own right.
I see Washington besieged on two fronts: internationally by the rising and hungry world power of China and those poorer nations Washington has been systematically bleeding for decades; and on American soil by individual states tired of supporting the top-heavy bureaucracies created by Washington to keep the royalty in luxury and safety while the rest of the nation goes to pot.
It is said that those who will not learn the lessons of history must repeat them. So-called democratic governments can try to hide their undemocratic ways behind constitutions, manipulated votes, flags, slogans, hockey, football, baseball, Olympics, burgers and beer, but sooner or later they must reap what they sowed. The Roman emperors tried to keep themselves in power by increasing “homeland security measures” otherwise known to historians as government repression; by amusing the crowds with “spectacles” – but even though the arenas flowed with the blood of gladiators, slaves and innocents, Rome fell, never to rise again.
How does one judge a people, a nation, a world, a system, anything?
Oh, but… the politically correct hypocrite will quickly say, you can’t judge. “Judge not that ye be not judged” and all that. Who realizes that the “do not judge” injunction as used is but another way to avoid taking responsibility for all the evil this world is being subjected to at the hands of “man”? Who realizes that those who say “judge not” are foremost at judging everything?
Always, it is those who rail the loudest against change (judgment always implies change) who have the most to lose and are hiding the most. As the bard wrote: "Methinks he doth protest too much." All forms of political correctness are but slogans for those who exploit and oppress to keep the lid on things. See no evil, hear no evil, think no evil -- and thus evil does not exist. Is that so?
Sure and wonderful. Tell it to the 30 to 40 thousand daily human sacrifices, victims of system profit and consumer convenience. Tell it to the billions who barely survive by accepting gross injustice and exploitation to supply slave labour services for the “hosting” industry and produce cheap consumer goods for the Wal-Mart’s of the world.
Judging is probably the oldest and most constant form of expression among Earthians. Judgment is expressed about everything. Anytime anyone speaks about any kind of “condition” of anything, judgment is being used. Conditions of weather, roads, housing markets, one’s health for example. Government performance, public services, others’ religious beliefs, sports team standings, one’s job “manager” or neighbor’s activities – input-output, the tick-tock computer brain: its comparative list is truly endless.
What matters is what is done with such judgments. The “ends” of judgment is action: either condemnation, exoneration… or withdrawal from either. Having entered into judgment, one must complete it or choke on it.
Oh yes, by all means – [*JUDGE ALL THINGS. *] But do it justly. Do it without pre-conceptions or expectations. Without any pet belief. Without racism. Without bigotry or ignorance. With a clear mind, intelligence, understanding, common sense, regardless of where you end up within your own judgment. In other words, judge without condemnation.
Ah, there’s the rub. Where do I fall within the categories of evil I have just judged? Where must I move in order to no longer stand under that judgment, a judgment that in the end must carry condemnation and a just sentence? Where must I move in order to not have to pass sentence and condemn those or that which I have judged as evil? And how do I interact with the evil I know is there? Build up a counter-force? Or follow the old adage, “If you can’t beat them, join them.”?
How do I disempower evil without causing needless harm? This is the place where heart and mind must be examined in complete detachment. There are many vehicles provided by the System to push one’s judgment through force. But the System provides no workable concept whereby one may transform evil into good. For the System knows nothing of self-sacrifice and detachment. It only knows of force and counter-force, conditions which only give rise to more of the same. The System knows nothing of self-empowerment, the power to decide entirely for one self how one’s judgment will be concluded.
It begins as an awakening, a life-pulse that says in unambiguous terms: serve others. A flash of light.A vision.
And so the mind responds, over-riding the body-brain built-in impulses at self-protection and self-pleasing. An intense moment of insane joy is experienced, that eureka, that “what if” possibility moment. “I can lose myself in service of others. I will no longer need to worry about myself. I can actually be free.” Euphoria.
Gradually the body-brain entity returns on-line and begins the slow, arduous task of complying to the urgent demands of the insane new mind. “Do this, do that, go, move, move! Nothing is impossible.” It complies.
The mind doesn’t see, doesn’t count, the costs, but the body does. It begins to rebel. Not openly. Something like getting sick – guaranteed get-attention device. This brings OTHERS to comfort it. That’s good. That’s getting things back on track. It learns. The mind is not invincible.
To help others, says the brain, you need your health.
The mind recognizes the necessity of this and acquiesces. Must heal the body.
To help others, says the brain, you need money.
Having compromised over the health issue, the mind rationalizes this to be correct: need money. Money not earned directly must come from OTHERS. Need to set up a system to raise the money. Means raising consciousness.Means advertising.
Advertising is a complex matter, says the brain. You need to hire professionals for that. You need to become popular, tour, lecture. You need to have a focus for your intended help, so supporters and donors will understand; feel a part of something tangible.
Yes, yes, that is sensible, agrees the mind. I need to make the world aware of my desire to help. I need to develop a specific area of help. Maybe write a book. Do a signing tour, give emotional speeches. Touch millions. I need a registered non-profit organization for this purpose. I will need a private jet and limousine service to save time and assure reliability and security for myself and staff.
And the vision morphs into a charitable organization whose primary focus becomes raising money so that there is money to run the organization, pay the board of directors, pay the staff, meet the operational costs of raising more money and have some left over to provide limited help to that target group the organization and its supporters recognize to keep the organization legitimate.
The mind is no longer troubled because it spends ninety percent of its available resources taking care of business. Such is necessary and proper and legal. It will be a while yet before the mind realizes it’s back in its old prison and it will never realize that the “help” it is now giving is not real.
The trap has sprung shut.
These books contain a form of free verse poetry, essays, short stories, thoughts, opinions based on observation, and some humour and imagination, engaging the heart as well as the mind. A critical look at many current issues intriguing and plaguing man. Spirituality, interaction with nature and environment, social changes, dwindling resources. Well worn issues now, indeed. But the poetry and other works in these books gives this subject a different perspective. I daresay that here we can find a "higher" vantage point from which to look at ourselves within the cosmos.