Help You From the Rear View Mirror

(The full movie can be seen here: https://youtu.be/dFyt4ejRiJI The article on the film was originally posted in July 2015 at: https://theawakenedstate.net/help-rearview-mirror/)

Who’s Driving the Dreambus? (2009) That’s an insightful and inviting title for a film that interviews some of the people in contemporary non-duality spirituality (Advaita) who say or are said to be Awakened: Tony Parsons, Jeff Foster, Timothy Freke, Genpo Roshi, Gangaji, Toni Packer, Amit Goswami, and Guy Smith. It’s described by the filmmakers as “a feature-length documentary exploring life’s most profound mystery, ‘Who am I?’”

Explore that mystery it does, and from an extraordinary perspective: a rare station of consciousness experienced by people from all faiths and all cultures down through the ages, hence panhuman, one considered spiritual or elevated because it’s beyond the ego, a state ontologically hard to define and equally difficult to divine who’s actually there and who’s just able to sound like they are, difficulties that have been a major source of debate and division in spirituality since the beginning I’d imagine because we’re talking about realization, here called Awakening.

While the film does explore the ontological question, the latter question of which of those interviewed is in that state and who isn’t this film does not bridge or even discuss. Only the title suggests it, asking, from one possible interpretation, which one of those interviewed is driving the dreambus, that here meaning something in the neighborhood of the bus to Awakening, in other words, who is Awakened? And when you interpret the title as asking is there anyone driving the dreambus (if anyone’s really there in the driver’s seat at all), dreambus here meaning this dream of a body and a world, neither does the film bridge existence, nor, in my view, even the spiritual path.

According to those interviewed there is no spiritual path (or anything else: you, I, or the world) because everything is one, or it just ‘is’, some mystery we cannot hope to penetrate. For us staring fruitlessly at that impenetrable mystery, it boils down to a nullity of everything in oneness or ‘isness’, and in fact when your consciousness is seated there you experience that nullity, and you no longer have a self-reflective consciousness, no I or inner chatter, hence Silent Mind and no-self it’s also called, and it’s as though you live in the infinite vast because there are no objects in your consciousness and no boundaries between you and everything else save the body and some little sliver of something never in view.

It’s quite a shock to go into the Silence, what it’s called in other circles, and if you visit that place if only for a moment your whole view of things shifts to that ‘nullity in oneness’ when you return to normal mind, so convincing is the experience, like you know it’s the background of everything, or so it seems, a pure undifferentiated consciousness, basic raw awareness and nothing else, the One, who doesn’t from that perspective even appear aware, since all sense of God and soul vanishes too with the loss of a self and a center.

If this really were the ultimate place in consciousness and oneness we can get to and dwell in, in all infinity and beyond, in all the universes and what’s bigger than universes, then I’d say mainstream science is on the right track with its reductionist materialism, reducing everything to material process, meaning that everything is the result of that, consciousness too just the interaction of chemicals in the brain and spinal column. And I’d say that because it amounts to the same thing as science in saying consciousness has no higher purpose, no intent in it or beyond it except that which hapless creatures such as ourselves put in it, creatures that in reality do not even exist: in other words, meaninglessness, where nonexistence is supreme.

However, in that station itself, and here’s the difficulty of seeing beyond it, there is that peace that passes understanding and in most cases, not all, an unbounded joy not dependent on outer circumstances. Attachment and desire are no longer a problem because they don’t arise. Contentment in nothing and the sheer freedom that entails makes not only ego consciousness but also any other possible station appear a state of bondage, and so it’s understandable if you’re there or have been there to feel that there’s no station beyond (because there’s nothing here in the first place!).

Experientially, though, at the fullest manifestation of the station described above, at its deepest in emptiness and silence, which none of those interviewed seem to have experienced or to even know about, not only the mind shuts off but the respiration and heartbeat too, and, if conditions are right, you feel at the base of the spine something like a rocket blasting off (the kundalini smote stark awake), a rocket that appears to take the seat of the consciousness up out the top of the head. I say appears because I aborted the ascension when I experienced that deepest state of Silent Mind (you can read a brief description in a published essay here: http://www.elephantjournal.com/2013/03/winged-information-a-peer-into-the-mountaintop-donny-duke/)

Based on that experience and ones where I did go into the regions (or chakras) overhead, though not from the Silence, and what I’ve read of others’ experiences, it stands to reason it’s from that deepest emptiness that you go up out through the crown chakra to either leave phenomenal existence in Nirvana, if that indeed is the case (I suspect it’s not so final), or go up into the higher self, or Supermind as it’s called in an Indian yoga. It depends on where you’re orientated to go, on your soul’s orientation, not your mind’s choice.

Like being in the emptiness, this is not iffy business, and there’s no guessing involved. It cannot be confused with an out of body experience because you remain very much within You, though an overhead extension of you you’re probably not aware you have. You go out the top of your head, all your awareness, the seat of your consciousness, and see from there, hear from there, have no feeling of being in the body below you other than seeing it down there inhabited by the little self shut up in its little prison, though this describes an unmanifested Supermind several meters above a little self on the earth plane. What position it has in relation to the body when it’s manifested is beyond my knowledge, but, according to the Integral Yoga, the full manifestation would mean a divinized body and earth too, what the hope of the New Age and of the kingdom of heaven on earth hint at, though Supermind is beyond heaven and the cosmic Gods, beyond the confines of the cosmos. You can find a detailed description of that experience here: http://www.shift.is/2015/03/whats-bigger-than-the-universe-hang-on-whats-bigger-than-everything/

In that higher self you do experience an individual existence, though it’s egoless like the Silence, know yourself as the true individual that is evolving little selves through time, that line of many lives you ride above, bringing them to it, an individuality based on oneness, the One, but here it’s aware, not a nonexistence as it seems in the emptiness, though it’s still an ever impenetrable mystery. You know yourself as a symbol of That, as if it has impossibly provided a driving car of timelessness in time to bring all to it.

One in the essence of consciousness means, if you really are, that you see and act at multiple poles of experience at the same time, have an all-vision of everything happening and all-being of everything that exists, or have some concentric degree of that like in Supermind, and you can see through anything you look at, for example see through whatever roof or ceiling separates you from your little self, seeing the essence or nature of anything that meets your gaze. The utter stillness, peace, joy, and compassion for all are no longer grounded in emptiness but in fullness unimaginable, fullness of being.

Nor is this the ultimate station of consciousness, what you know seeing from Supermind because you’re pointed more up to the regions above than down to the little I, unlike the cosmic Gods, who are primarily concerned with little lives like ours. There’s no end to the evolution of consciousness. From Supermind you go to ever more all-encompassing stations of consciousness all the way to the One, to express in a linear fashion what isn’t linear, which, as it appears from this ‘one pole of experience’ at a time existence, you can never get to but only are always becoming. In Supermind itself, however, you are the One, and that there is an ever more all-encompassing seeing of the ‘all at once’ does not negate either your being or becoming, contrary to non-identity described above where you aren’t the One or anybody else for that matter.

In no-self you only see oneness and live in its vast store content with your see, and, also in contrast to Supermind, you’re both in the body and in the one pole of experience existence, though without an ego or any other sense of self and identity. Another contrast is in the emptiness you’re in a blissful ignorance unaware and unconcerned with either life after death or the past and future, as those interviewed repeatedly point out. According to the Integral Yoga, that has as its foundation a knowledge based on many experiences of the higher self and not only on one as I have, in Supermind, however, nothing is unknown to you, though you might have to bring something into view if it’s not, and you live in the now of the eternal moment, in undivided time, which is a seeing of the past, present, and future at the same time, what can only be possible when you move, live, and have your being in multiple poles of experience simultaneously, naturally.

I’m not a fan of New Age spirituality, but I give it credit for keeping this hope alive, this ancient and hidden knowledge of who we are up top, albeit confusedly. Contemporary spirituality as a whole laughs at New Age thought, but it cannot see out of that box of emptiness, due to such an influence of Buddhism, particularly Zen, on spirituality today. In fact, it’s often said, by those interviewed and others similarly minded, that seeking is fruitless because you’re already there (but ask yourself this: is it manifested yet?), and so spiritual practice, if it’s admitted at all, is centered on mindfulness and/or meditation, stilling the thought, not identifying with the I or any separation or distinction.

If you practice Avaita, or non-duality spirituality, you may or may not think, read, eat, exercise, or whatever, in a way that’s conducive to that mindfulness, but chances are you probably do. You don’t, however, as rule accept divine or spirit aid, the guidance of your soul, the help of your animal powers, use sequent number, synchronicity, power spots, and significant calendar days such as full moon, your birthday, the solstices and equinoxes, or even give serious attention to dreams, visions, and inner voices (all of which I use avidly). Here too New Age spirituality saves us from putting to sleep completely the ways and means of ascension, although at the same time it has everything thrown together in such a pell-mell fashion it’s not easy to choose between what helps and what definitely doesn’t.

Even to go into that place at the top of mind I’ve called the emptiness and the Silence (there are so many names for it, attesting to its panhuman existence) you need all the help you can get, and so how much more so to get to Supermind, or, to say it differently, not only to get to that emptiness but through it to the fullness of Supermind, to be orientated there. The trick is to be able to discern what help is natural to our individuality and humanity as whole in a divine transformation and what is not or frivolous. It’s tricky, like walking a razor’s edge, because when you begin to open the inner consciousness so many things come flooding in it seems pointing to your heights, not only the all too plentiful purposeful distractions orchestrated by powers hostile to divinity, but also “distractions in gold cuffs” my muse (the muse of poetry) calls them, because they can also be divine distractions, like getting sidetracked from your own divine transformation with Jesus, Krishna, some other divine name, or a divinely inspired book, though avoiding all the distractions, divine or undivine, in no way precludes an indispensible, integral, and unconditional surrender to the Supreme, without which a divine transformation isn’t possible. Nor does it preclude using and adoring some divine name as your guide to get there. They just wouldn’t be the goal.

If, however, you are content with gold cuffs and the cosmic Gods (“the story Gods” in my muse) and want nothing more than to draw ever nigh to some divine person, have no drive to exceed the human formula and go up into Supermind (who would also be coming down to you), then you’ll be in good company and on hallowed ground, but just make sure it’s your soul’s choice. A good question: where would aliens or channeled entities fit into all of this? Or, I should ask, do they?

So far this may seem like just a bunch of philosophy, but shot through it are brief descriptions of my personal experience (which is by no means exhaustive), else I couldn’t describe what I’m describing, and so it’s more the result of experience than thought, hence engaged philosophy. Though we all have our personal truth, our uniqueness in Spirit, that silent empty station of consciousness is at the top of everyone’s mind, since it’s truth in its most basic sense, meaning simply what is, not a name or ideal to believe in, and everyone has a higher self above them, as both become visible when you reach them with the seat of your consciousness, your awareness. In other words they exist independent of belief.

You don’t have to take my word for it; see for yourself if you are able. I didn’t believe in Supermind before experiencing it, had no idea it was even there. I did know about the emptiness, but upon experiencing it I found it to be as ineffable and hard to describe in language as mystics for thousands of years have said it is. Nothing really prepares you for its hard to bear intensity. For reasons that probably has to do with enabling me to see out of that box of emptiness, seeing something’s beyond it, I first experienced Supermind and then a year later the Silence (several times since that initial supramental experience I’ve gone overhead some distance, though not yet again to that height). Even having seen what’s above it beforehand, that emptiness was still overwhelming. I greatly needed spiritual aid.

After the Silence I was devastated. I had seen that the world is an illusion and a cheat, myself included, and so there was no reason to continue spiritual practice, or even school for that matter (I was studying Classical Greek in the university at the time). In fact, there was no reason to do anything except wait for death as comfortably as I could. If I would’ve stayed in the Silence, while adjustment to it would be difficult, it would’ve been much easier, since you are like I said content, and so the meaninglessness is just that, nothing at all. It’s hard to give the picture of my utter despair because it wasn’t depression; the peace from the experience lasted weeks.

About two weeks after the experience, as I was on the verge of stopping everything, sadhana, school, what have you, I flung myself on my bed one afternoon and was enveloped in flaming vision. It happened without any trigger. All was in storm at sea at night, and a purple sky was sending down lightning bolts on water just a slightly different shade of violet than it, water that was mad with waves. Riding on the waves not the least bothered by the storm was a young Caucasian woman on a white horse dressed in traditional American Indian buckskin, not as a squaw but as a warrior. As I looked into her eyes I found myself looking through innumerable eyes at the same time, hers included, not all eyes there are but saw as she saw through all the beings like her, and it was as though they were one being seeing and experiencing existence through all those many eyes, though each one was its own distinct personality acting on its own scene, which was in identity-unison with all the rest. Just a flash that seeing was, and then I was back behind my own eyes looking at her again riding so expertly that storm. She looked at me and gave me a smile that held within it all I hold dear about love, and she said, in a line of poetry I lost, something like, “Nirvana expresses itself through the forms.”

The vision vanished just as quickly as it had appeared, but it put my whole world back in place. It used the word Nirvana for That because I was studying Buddhism at the time, and voice and vision uses what you know and believe in. To interpret what she said I was told that existence is not meaningless because the One, or whatever you want to call the Absolute, expresses itself through existence, or samsara as the Buddhists would call it. In other words, these symbol lives and worlds are real because That is behind them, what they are in reality. So the world and its inhabitants and all above it are a living symbols and not illusions, and that makes all the difference in the world.

That woman on the horse was a representation of my Supermind, what became apparent to me afterwards, whose nature is expressed in the symbols of the vision, i.e. a rider of storms, feminine in a masculine role, and ‘Western’ or ‘White’ but dressed in the life of native or tribal culture, all of which is proving to be my basic nature also, of this little self too. Though at the time I called her (them) the Nirvana people, because I was using the symbols of Buddhism, all those many eyes were the one Supermind, something I only glanced at when I was in Supermind so briefly I was there and such a shock it was just to see through everything as I did. At the time I had no name for it, as I was years from encountering the Integral Yoga, and I just called Supermind ‘who I really am’.

When I was able to integrate the experience of the Silence with that of Supermind, in my understanding, I left Buddhism’s ideal behind, though its thought and technique to get to the emptiness are unparalleled, which I yet use, since that no-self is a way station on the way to the Truth Consciousness (Supermind) and must be experienced and surpassed. Also a good question: where does God fit into the picture? I think I might venture to answer that one. Supermind is the first rung on the ladder of God above or beyond the universe, in other words, God from there on up.

Now, after saying all this, I can go back to the beginning and say that there is no spiritual path, not because all is one and therefore negated, but because all is One and at the same time the path to return there, and that’s a supreme positive. So life itself is the spiritual path, afterlife too. Existence is that whether we realize it or not. We evolve despite ourselves, although we can certainly speed things up conceiving of for convenience sake a spiritual path. And while on that path there are check points, like emptiness and Supermind, as well as other things, the soul change (surfacing the soul) for one, they aren’t the destination, just take you closer to it, and so they hold no all-importance, and making them the goal is as much of a trap as ignoring them altogether, believe me, but it is good to know of them, since your understanding and not only your heart take you forward on the path, and what the mind sees it can identify with, like what the soul envisions creates a world or a universe.

So relax, though you are God like many think, maybe even yourself, you’ll only know yourself God when you can see through innumerable eyes at the same time, and you would also have superpowers.

As far as the question of being Awakened or not, I think the film in question gives a good picture of how different that is from being in ego consciousness when it shows that not as a philosophy but as a radical change of consciousness on the part of those interviewed. Are you there?

I’ll finish with poems from my Twitter feed https://twitter.com/donnyduke7/media

The Settling Stone a Carve

The Settling Stone a Carve

Made images out of light.
Feed them to this world.
Beat me.
I’m a meeting of soul wings.
It doesn’t bother me.
Use your head.
Reflected on the walls of the mirror.
In any event,
where I sit and represent God.
That’s the power lines.
What compassionate consideration.
It’s like he loves himself.
He’s the photographer you see,
the photograph,
all these images,
the poem,
pure,
not an ounce of color.
Do you see the address?
It’s in the face of everything.

Image Pondicherry

 

Image Pondicherry

Poetry
I need you.
He fell into the bricks.
Thank God let him through.
He’s an image in a photograph.
What visibility.
All citywide wears one face.
It gathers in the gloom.
Was to fight
till the front soul noon.
Let’s give soft yoga shoes
a copy of The Letters
and give those bored little crazies the cubbyholes.
Came out peaceful Pondicherry.

Original Sin

My must suggested the subject, and I made the shot and developed it

Original Sin

In a sunny corner of remote earth
the bite of it all
challenged orthodoxy.
This was in Nature’s plan.
Green-gold it moved.
This conducted harmony
operating on discords –
not a packaged plan,
neither from the stars.
It brought in cities beyond the universe.

We bask in its revelry –
a riot of God
on lone isles of trust.
Wonderful it wore shoes.
Naked impulse did not light its lamp.
A renegade,
it brought all to bear on noontide.
Light held its room.

Yes, we sing in darkness’ lair.
We deliver anthems
without knowing on which we rest.
It came to us unclothed,
and we saw naught but sin.
What distance orthodoxy
from all that abounds in this place.

 

This poem came complete via the inner voice while I was sitting and waiting for a room darshan on Mother’s birthday at the Sri Aurobindo Ashram in 2015. It was originally posted in the old blog of Douglas and I, The Chipmunk Press. It bears mentioning that I went to the Samadhi the next day after writing the poem and inwardly asked where I should put the poem, and I heard my muse answer:

To the question in Sri Aurobindo's room:
are you there?"

The Killer Find

The Killer Find

In whatever comes our way.
After eighteen seasons it’s so funny though.
I bet you
I responded.
Leave the characters alone.
We’re windows,
pure margin.
We’ve a back part.
Halfway finished you want to throw me away.
Who me?
It was hard gave him a lawyer.
This is a transcendent poem.

Wait a minute,
is my life short?
Barely here.
It seems you don’t want to think for the psychopath.
You tell me.
His therapists are his words:

I don’t come down easy.
I’m a middle man.
I like killing.
You can see it in their eyes when you shoot them:
life has meaning.
I’m instructed to go.
Good girl.

Limitation’s my ink.
I can’t express the dying word.
My favorite is the surprise face.
They look at me so dumbly.
Maybe it would sound better if you play with it.
Who?

I’m laughing in front of their house.
I will take whatever I want.
You give it to me.
I’m not drowning.
I’m a full on power.
Your life gives me whatever I need.
Your life is my answer to life’s boredom.

Man, I’ve had to please,
grovel up to the paycheck.
Man I’m big.
They don’t know what power has come their way.
The person I kill sees my importance.
That’s the way the Gods speak to you sister.
With me have some understanding.
No, I haven’t found Them.
But I will put on after.

It’s gonna be tough
To get him outta there.
There’s the joy of the free ride.
Oh I’m sorry,
The police found your tracks.
I come distinct from them.
You are their calling card.
Some of them,
your attitude they share,
though on a different path.
You kill to fulfill delight.
They do under the guise of duty.
It’s a humiliation law code.
They don’t actually need to kill.
Yeah you know it.

Released from crime,
whose letter’s not interesting or significant,
the psychopath sits in jail and thinks:
contact with other people,
is this the word Kim’s back?
You know all shades of restaurant, right?
I’m glad because you’re going to marry me.
Kim is his split personality.
Kim is slightly easier to get along with.
Kim has a plan in his head:
he can play the game
whilst he’s in prison.

The environment,
the basest emotions are given free reign.
He just erupts on Ginger Ale.
Meanwhile he has a little house
beyond the reason
unfolding in his soul story.
This house beauty knows the price of.
It is beauty’s tool.
Beauty can find this arm.
This is mastery’s circle.
Those in care of him
did we want there?

Let’s not open our mouth wide.
We can keep him right here.
We can do our level best to control him.
No one is pushing us otherwise.
Why isn’t the government doing something for him?
Oh my God I just had the weirdest look.
You batted my elbow.

Let’s call in the hotshots.
Go out searching homes I’m already home.
And what’s this crime carrier do?
He acts as a closing agent.
He solidifies the type.
It’s his mercy in prison.
I’m mean this guy has feelings.
They’re all sharpened up.
You wouldn’t believe how mercy he is.
Oh I know;
I can’t seem to find mine.
You kill that fish.

Gold is one of the most dangerous places.
My wife distributes many mountain climbers.
But you won’t let him see the mountain
nor marry my wife,
a river whose flow is words.
Come in,
No one wants to play babe I’m sorry,
no one wants to play.

That refused my song.
I couldn’t bend in the knees.
This is not to your bureaucrat.
This is to that reach in you
that answers prayer.
Anybody can bow to reach a God.
I’m calling on your special stuff.

What’s the time?
Nine thirty-two.
What’s this I want?
Process change.
You forgive me
the hands call
words you don’t like.
That would mean a different arrangement for his answer.

His body you’ve kept in buffalo tape.
The body is getting just to ten.
With the body move on ahead.
Alright time’s up.
Maybe it was too complicated.
I’m trying to tell you
that there’s a river in that man,
a natural born therapist,
that will take him outside the jail house
a lover of humanity.

It looks better with Me inside the point.
I am divinity in Man.
I am his first answer.
The soul is not a piece of plastic.
It has a divine outgrowth.
It calls My name in secret.
It is My pages heal your story.
I know the ways of the world,
am master of existence.
The universe I hold in the palm of my hand.
Its every movement My gaze understands.
The Sun measures My name,
is a symbol for its splendor.

I sit atop this man and await your law to give way.
He will not find Me on his own.
He cannot cargo that answer.
Necessity will not hold his hand.
Handsome him with love,
make beauty his living room,
surround him with those who know their land,
and from behind the heart My representative will sing to him
all the measures of his life
put into harmony’s window.

Hearing this high speech
the Gods will rainbow their messages.
He will be an open vessel for universal lore.
Healing streams of light will come to him from the stars.
The moon will glow in his notebook.
The darkness inside him will not know where to hide.
It will be vanquished with the coming dawn.
This I can do in him
if you let him see his own worth.

I enter the country late
because this man is a monster to you,
and you will not see him home.
Now use lovelier powers
to bend his knees,
ones that call from the house of love.
You have grappled him down in hate.
What a wooden start.

Kid, you murdered a family.
This is who we kill.
All wrapped up in mourning
the family lies slain.
Existence has been robbed of its joy.
That loved one’s face stole the sun.
Madness crawls on their hours threatening touch.

What’s the matter?
My temple is gone.
Here is life’s sweetheart.
We bridge reality with this,
a smile that passes by?

Our loved ones are borrowed customers.
They are characters in a plot.
They sooth our need awhile and move on.
We think them a reality’s ship.
One little curtain closed can undo our lives.

What management is this?
What fools we are prey to death.
The heart has deeper need
than its animal holdings.

We pause here on the brink of life’s meaning.
Wisdom,
it’s applicable;
it’s up to you.

Matter fills every corner.
We cannot surround its view with anything else.
God even is of this make made.
Our understanding of Him is material.
He is a material agent not a spiritual cause
in our view of God acting.
He acts; He moves; He speaks
a material outlook.
God can be otherwise,
but we would have to brush name aside,
see past its formula,
the useful path,
to something larger than name.

There’s a family in these woods.
We can bridge the gap to God.
God can wear their face.
Then we begin to be circled by love,
when God wears every face in the crowd.
The loved one is just a familiar particular,
an intimacy we can hold
clasping Him.
Death only rearranges His face.
But God is deeper still.

God has a beckoning plan.
Here, some side paragraphs you should know.
This is deep today.
What are we supposed to do?
Grief, you will have problems there.
Eyes trapped.
Let them know where to stand.
A senseless killing is a teacher still.
Deep it will hold you open to reality.
There is your existence swim:
you can see beyond time.

Life has more fields of study.
We receive again our loved one.
This face in death God wears.
God is a surrounding look.
God is our surrounding cause.
The meaning of life is a parable
these eyes unfold.

My foot’s out.
I can’t keep score.
This poet has found bankrupt as his last measure.
I cannot keep God’s vision in my sight.
These eyes are the toughest to hold.
The Unseen all around us,
the very issue of our existence,
and the world looms larger still.
Our daily bread becomes the story-line,
or a major left in sin.

I had come to speak a word of Silence.
Chaos has erupted in my song.
The killer knows these waters.
He can see no large eye of God.
The world presses in on him
its sideshow of the blind alley scene.
He cannot see out of its dim tale.
Nowhere has he found knowledge close.

All run to a savage dawn.
Man has no larger purpose than this:
there’s a world out there;
take it.
Do it now reads the signs
along the roadsides of his life’s little spurts.
All seek the same need,
a vague point lost in advertising.
War rumors his world.
The daily news is a glowing red
convincing you the world’s on fire,
convincing you of your need to fear.
He can read the papers:
every man for himself.

The good that men call society,
he’d seen its vision’s sweep.
Huddled in a little courtroom called monster
he was its prey.
It hung debasement around his neck.
This was where social disease
spread out into the land.
He banked on this loan.
He hoped no greater glory
than to be the system’s plague.
Society would find death in him.

We can vision out this story.
Its huge eyes cry sight.
Where in this is God’s encircling sun?
In the moment you laid eyes on Him.
Can you top this vision?
No measure knows its score.
Error cannot blind its sight.
Error defines it more.
I mean to put reality above God
it results I cry in my own mess.
God shines through his shiny overcoat.
He can wear a mistake too.
Here in harmony’s reach I can clean it up.
A killer’s no less a man.

One key feature is that sometimes you make a mistake life for.
You’ll have to turn yourself save me.
Another orgy from that.
Okay, alright?
You would threaten?
Up here, alone, encouraged, and again we encounter God.

Wildlife management,
I am a listening shelf.
The soul is not a sword.
It holds us together.
It is our flight suit.
We pull the answer
from behind,
all along our heart’s show.
This is our bank card:
the promise of a better land.

The heart is the particular keeper.
It waits on a pull from the outside
to respond to its purpose.
This is not its better arrangement.
When we close off life’s customers,
when we come together on our own land,
alone in life’s cell,
we can manage its whereabouts,
we can find divinity’s room.

This is our soul keeper,
what banks in us on divine gold.
It makes no commerce with life’s heart.
It cherishes only divine holdings.
Our divine outreach,
where we find divinity’s wings,
is a cavern deep and wide,
a long fall to the reach of it.
The flame that you find there
will be the wonder that you seek.

This is the divine representative in Man,
the soul-flame.
It evolves with our common start.
It waits for union with the soul above,
the divinity we are
high above ourselves.

It is this link,
this psychic fire
literary,
that is our spokesman for healing change.
It sings to us that endeavor.
We know no outer managing overview.
This is our directing circle
we write ourselves.

Help me organize this arrangement
happily furnish the need
a teacher
from divinity’s schoolbook,
a divine name to give you lesson.
It is the soul makes this choice.
Though they seem the Sun itself,
they are not the goal only its keepers.
In time your own Sun will shine through.

I’ve given you direction.
Here you go to process change.
Bring this soul round to the front.
Make the psychic leader of the life.

I don’t know if you understand me but
I’ve shown you where healing can be found.
No, you don’t have to do that,
be under the guidance of a supervising counselor,
attend meetings,
undergo any type of special training.
We receive this change alone.
Those on the outside awaiting results,
they do not deliver the baby.
They are support vehicles.
They help manage our affairs.

You will see the soul is particular.
It does not make the same wardrobe for all,
not exactly,
but it does use
a similar vocabulary of symbols
when it talks to us.
Someone who has passed this bridge
of word-wise
– thank you ma’am –
can give us meanings clear.
You don’t want them to stand around.
A little bit different
than a guide,
they keep their noses out of it.
Their sentence help we need with words and phrases.
The whole we do not give to them.

Now look,
okay I’ve spent
years listening
processing this change.
Keep going.

My sight here seemed to call over completely retractable ideas.
That camera,
comic that look?
Yeah, where is it?
A demon’s laugh is graphic.
Discernment
will be your growth rate.
A divine smile
has a heartbeat.

Listen,
you have a top priority,
a process change.
Lore has not this freshness.
Watch the road here.
It’s wide open.

Come to the river half dry
and you won’t be parched enough to hear it sing.
Dry off before you go in there.
Emotionally wet from the world,
we will hear desire’s holdings
if the ears can find the speech at all.

You know where I stand?
Behind your thought.
It is a trance vision
in the proximity of sleep.
You are awake to hear its call.
Inside the bell tolls.
There is no thought to the arrangement.
Thinking disrupts the process.

I’m sorry if listening stills.
We must accustom ourselves to its strain.
You come to it by degrees.
Your life must quiet to its measure.
The field of your difficulties is the better answer
than the retreat getaway.
You want to hear your problems.
This becomes the greater challenge
and the special key:
you quiet your life in the noise of life,
and you process your change in its tromp and strife.

Mastery has its brand here.
I’m a letter on healing nearing its sum.
The listening smile,
calm it brightens its world.

A summit answer,
we cannot process its plenitude.
There’s something wrong.
We can’t get over our outrage.
Debasement lies squealing.
Our basest reactions hold us here.
The psychopath is only a measure of his world.

Society knows no sitting station.
It has no examining review board.
The pack mentality governs its field book.
Disguised as law and due process,
they wreck havoc on human justice.
If it has become more sensitive,
it is because it is more aware of itself,
but revenge is still our answer to crime.
Our ethics have not evolved beyond this.

I sing to you its appointment,
the beginnings of a nobler race.
This has been a longing since the day we were born.
It has smiled upon us from afar
even when we’re at war.
We know this future ours,
however many disclaimers the times show.

I’m telling you it’s cold out there
in this waiting room of today.
Wait until you see society’s sharp teeth.
Then you understand.

Every once in awhile we’ll get a call from them,
the seekers after goodwill
as the governing agent of society.
They have each given formula –
medicine.
This medicine watch it,
it’s not applicable in time.
Its feet do not touch the hours.
It relies too heavily on outer stress.

We capitulate to the call
of that greater need within,
our hearts calling in stillness
to the reach above,
a medicine we long for.

Being a moment on change,
wonderful that outlook.
Human divinity,
it’s applicable.
Each holds this in store.
The time will bring it home to all of us.
Here, it is within reach.

How can you cry without salt?
What a grim life thou hast gotten a hold of.
They left building a city aside.
They arranged for killing room.
They can’t habit this gown.
Prison has them standing still,
a monster without a head to eat.

We review your killing.
It got menopause.
You deny our circle of trust.
I am the divine buoy in your harbor.
You are rich with sea salt,
carry the load of your number of kills.

There in the sudden door you find him.
It was in a back alley wasn’t it?
He had barbecued his drink.
Death stained his blood.
He said such stupid things.
He was black water.
You burned his ease.
It was a hollow kill.
He wasn’t straight on.
That laughed in your notebook.
We wasted your hour.
You cannot feel what you have done.
Pity you should remember him.
This felt not your power.
Pity you understand.
Well I…

Let’s leftover this man.
He was not in harmony’s circle.
He thought that you had won.
Death took him by the hand.
He understood at once the reason for beers.
The light brought him out of it.
He’d paid his green card.
There he lay still.
It was a meditative dawn.
His glory is your surprise.
Can you see past dawn?
You thought you’d murdered hope.

We journey to rivers.
This man will see his private hell.
Burdened with this autopsy
hope could lay its hands on him.
Such is the river’s run.
And there we pass out his trust.
On the inside we work a slow outer change.
The epiphany will one day see the Sun.

Put their sleep to school.
I listen.
Only after they come up with
the only answer to life:
grow.

Who am I going to come back to?
Not oven.
Meditative answers are coming.
I give you a lot to think about.
What are we looking for?
You’re in the bigger place.
You want to learn how to study bottom answers,
have a heart in the darkest part,
in feeling catch on.
I take a photo album with me,
those I operated upon.

Find the big change.
It’s in your river bed.
I leave it in your notebook.
You can fieldwork this change,
make it come out.
Guidance your river brings.

This is a crawl hole,
your insistent hostility.
Understand it as other then you.
Understand it as an attitude.
You can pencil it out.
This you have to hold at bay.
It will lessen by degrees.
When we indulge it,
operation,
the killing room,
or you just wait for the next victim.

This has us all bottled up inside.
A river can wash it down.
Hey look, come here.
I’m not going to get you for this.
If I ask you
throw it out,
can you do that?
A river answers why
hostility you answer.

Shrimps are eating politics.
That was your father years ago.
Hey children is disturbing.
Can’t live in the greenhouse.
I’ve got a lower angle.
I get physical.
Grab you by the neck I can.
Murder I wrote in the air around you.
You seemed to slip by love.
You had no comforting arm.
Life was a bare blade
to your infant heart.

We meet selfishness from even mother’s hands.
Can you hit the ball?
Some many things to watch.
What so many things?
Your environmental scorecard and your world review,
the inside does what in their presence?
The meaning lay behind the words.
Jump to its scaffold.
How many visions see red?
I can climb down in importance.
Place the notebook in sky hands.
Climb it to the top of the equation.

Believe me,
that’s what it’s coming to,
that high place.
And remember,
You are a spirit.
God is the value of it.

You almost put me to sleep.
I must be bigger than that.
To the thing that owns me
I do,
I throw it out.
A sharp division here.
This man makes a path.
He has risen above his danger issue,
but he is in need of trust.
He could slide back.
If you was justice you would hold my hand.
There his answer waits.

It’s just hard to tell the difference.
If it doesn’t tell deep
it has not understand.
I opened his house on change.
There’s an understanding castle
near sleep he builds.
We come together all along world lines.
We would not want to harm its view.

What’s left to do here?
How finish we gotta go?
You haven’t filled out the map yet.
Where is your food bar?
Cooking for the meat last time.
Now you’ve changed to a diet of soft sand,
what’s this the world’s about.
That has your hat in oil.
It doesn’t leave you peace clean.
You need to be clean.
Of all the knowledge
I gave you
you haven’t come out of the pool yet.
Everything like a boy,
everywhere.

An interchange,
I went ahead and added it.
Get that space off your face.
A remote control
it’s pretty obvious.
You just succumb to influences.

We move towards a deeper circle.
Spirituality issues its day.
Have a plan to remember.
Drink this all day long
crash point to zero.
I would’ve held you all night.
He ran off before I was sleeping.
You should take this point home:
have a hand on desire
no reach there for Me.

To settle fell, interesting of a company member.
Some things are just powerful
and can even overshadow the divine rally.
You want to learn to hold your bread.
Move in the daytime as if I’m beside you.
Sleep as if I’m in your arms.
You choose a way
To put Me in your driving car
so that your thought lights up your process
in terms I am laid down
magnetism.

You have to believe.
My floor not has you sleeping.
Matter is your waking tool.
In this prison you see My consistency.
In My reach you are.

I would certainly want it so.
I’d like to be here.
I’d like to have.
You’ve heard it.
Now you must bring what you hear into your living room.
Focus on the heart.
We bring the soul around to the front.
As a soul you meet the higher stations.
I have given you in peace.
Now it is your work to bona fie its real.

Why didn’t he answer?
He went into the shop.
So I won’t hear what’s up there?
A heart sound
shinning through.
You want to know you’re sorry.
You have a map.
You want to find anything you just
begin to look for it.
Your need will determine here.

Like I said,
The more concentrated,
the more you are put together,
the more you are given room.

Don’t worry,
I know voice.
I will teach you how to find it.
Now give to Me
your managing equation,
what you snap to in your night of light,
your own accord.
The divine embodied in human everywhere
has given Me a name,
the divine in Man,
a good news.

Have a singing mixture.
Use a strategy.
You get the Overframe:
the knowledge
a divine beauty
sitting in his own
divine station
will give you.
Your soul chooses this answer.

A foul use here,
demons.
You need to study
and know the difference between a wake song
and a diabolical need.
One smells funny.
It has not the genuine concern.
A quiet demeanor
will be your living tool.

Normally I get off this tape,
this chariot wheel,
and become to you a living frame of deity
your day revolves around.
I am not your frame of worship.
There are two frames here.
God can be your encompassing reality,
your special program of worship.
Name has an order here.
He will grow larger,
eventually,
as understanding beckons.

Bona fide results of the first ticket:
you find God.
The second no one knows.
The One is this storybook,
a code no idea can crack.
We hear Him a personality in the hours,
that which sustains us,
a half-light nonetheless.

A mystery bigger than creation,
it is God’s tabernacle,
his field of worship.
Even consciousness cannot account for its sum.
There is no greater field of play.
The One is your absolving window.
Your wrong can find reason there.
In its totality quarter
it is the basis of all deed.

Don’t condemn your process to their hands:
we’ll make you pay for this.
They have nothing original to say.
Solution does not open its schoolbook to them.
The payment for your crime
you will dole out in your effort for change.
Such is the master code.
Your will to change is your effective tool and special look.
Regard the world with its purpose.
Come to the garden without this
and you will not enter the gate.

A circumstance is just an opportunity for its progress.
We manage defeat this way.
Understand the need for change
and it comes in your courtyard.
Walk it into your house.
I am its gardening arrangement,
the divine in your own smile.
Look to Me your divine rose.

You wondered a long time without an aim.
You got lost.
Society,
I went up to comfort her,
make her feel better.
This is the Principal speaking.

We don’t have the play station;
He has the play station.
You let the killer run lose among us.
I do not arrange his deed.
He is your order run amuck.
This is My witness.
Give change.

Go to talk with your grandmother,
a divine field book.
Don’t bend your knees before a wooden god.
Life is not your throne.
Let’s keep it
this is no ordinary game.
You are founded on ambush
to show you God in the impersonal hours.

Don’t walk again you’re going to fly.
Don’t worry about it.
There’s proof inside
where the heart of the question lay.
You need to come out of your canteen,
your desire’s arrangement.

I had a holding plug missing.
I couldn’t see for the pollution.
They’re calling you for fifty-nine.
That will be fifty-nine up there.
Wake up that number on you.
We arrive on healing number.
Your field of play is material wealth.
You fail your hours
you’ll have your hydrogen peroxide back.

Buddy this is it,
how to put your foot in the door.
You wanna fly folks
– come on –
through a divine opportunity.
This is exactly
the basis of all our arguments.
We don’t wanna promote any specific religion.
Problems result for everybody.

Yes but if you can process change
you can find you can be diversified.
There’s a unified answer.
You have something to read to us.
You tell us what it is you report on.
This is healing.

A healing outcast
is your ticket on change.
You took it,
the things he held dear:
family,
his country,
a place in society,
his hope.
Was to the point that They came,
divine beings,
and showed him how the rivers run.

He processed hope
that We gave him.
It’s like that.
A society,
from its outcast,
social change
will be brought into living picture.
You have a cornerstone here.

So much misunderstanding
when these things hit the streets.
A poem can be disruptive.
I tell them what’s wrong.
This is where I give back.
This is a pedophile’s field book.

I wonder,
all the lights and stuff,
will help the ignorant to see,
or you’ll hate me even more?
Duke,
all American,
I bring home the change,
strands of the common way.

 

The Hostile On Top Of Me

predator cloak

In my last blog I gave an example of a dream where I feel I had an actual encounter with a hostile being, that is, a being of conscious darkness. I have another example I wanted to share in this post.

This dream happened quite a number of years ago when Donny and I were living in Cusco Peru. We stayed there for a span of months and shortly after arriving we befriended a group of holistic doctors there. Two of these doctors, Carlos and Luis, had a small apartment in Cusco, but on the weekends went to their homes and families in the small town of Urubamba nearby. Donny was a frequent weekend guest at Carlos’ house, and I went less frequently to stay with Luis. Luis had four children who were all teenagers or in their early twenties. One of them was a daughter, Chani, if I remember her name correctly.

The first few times I stayed with Luis and his family, I slept on the floor in an unused dental examination room. On one of those early visits I had a dream I was there on the floor in that room and Chani was on top of me, but fully clothed. She lowered her face to mine and we started kissing, but the experience was rather unpleasant, as she was moving her tongue around rapidly and violently in a circle. I opened my eyes and instead of Chani there was a being like the alien from the movie Predator in the sense that it was transparent, but I could still make it out and see its features to some extent. It was humanoid, but more bizarre and alien looking than anything Hollywood has ever managed to come up with. What I remember most clearly about it though was a small beak like thing it had for a mouth that had a tongue like thing that was circling around the outside of the beak the same way it had been doing in my mouth just few seconds before. Then I woke up and it was either still dark out or dawn was just beginning while in the dream the room had been fully lit.

If I remember correctly I came to the conclusion pretty quickly that the being I was kissing and that had appeared to me in Chani’s form was a hostile vital being. I also realized I had probably been in the cataleptic state back in my body, yet still in the dream state when the encounter occurred. The whole thing made a strong impression on me and I’ve never forgotten it over the years. I’ve also had other dreams where I was kissing someone and there was something unpleasant about it, -usually it’s something they’re doing with their tongue, but sometimes their mouth has a really gross taste- and I’ve wondered if at those times I was kissing another one of these beings in disguise. I honestly don’t know though nor do I know if it’s possible to have intimacy in a dream with one of these beings and have it be marvelous. I just know what I experienced that one time.

Both Sri Aurobindo and the Mother have spoken at length about these types of vital beings in their talks and writings. According to their experience there seems to be a whole spectrum of them from fallen divine beings to small mischievous entities that like to cause accidents. And some classes of these beings it appears are actually spawned from our own lower desires while we’re still alive or from parts of our own vital makeup after we die.1 And for all these types of vital beings their food is the energy we give off during lower vital movements such as lust, anger, depression etc., and they’re pushing our buttons and setting up situations both in dream and waking life to get us to give off these types of energies. My feeling on the matter is that if our eyes were suddenly unsealed and we saw how pervasive their influence is, how much they’re pulling our strings, not just individually but collectively, we’d all be in for one hell of a shock. In his epic Savitri, Sri Aurobindo speaks about their pervasiveness in a very striking passage. He tells us:

Their whispers come, an inarticulate force,
Awake in mind an echoing thought or word,
To their sting of impulse the heart’s sanction draw,
And in that little Nature do their work
And fill its powers and creatures with unease.
Its seed of joy they curse with sorrow’s fruit,
Put out with error’s breath its scanty lights
And turn its surface truths to falsehood’s ends,
Its small emotions spur, its passions drive
To the abyss or through the bog and mire:
Or else with a goad of hard dry lusts they prick,
While jogs on devious ways that nowhere lead
Life’s cart finding no issue from ignorance.
To sport with good and evil is their law;
Luring to failure and meaningless success,
All models they corrupt, all measures cheat,
Make knowledge a poison, virtue a pattern dull
And lead the endless cycles of desire
Through semblances of sad or happy chance
To an inescapable fatality.
All by their influence is enacted there.2

Now I think it’s necessary to point out that in this passage he’s describing their action and influence in the vital planes or the ‘Kingdoms of the Little Life’ as he puts it. As the passage continues however he goes on to point out they’re doing the same thing here in our material world.

Nor there alone is their empire or their role:
Wherever are soulless minds and guideless lives
And in a small body self is all that counts,
Wherever love and light and largeness lack,
These crooked fashioners take up their task.
To all half-conscious worlds they extend their reign.
Here too these godlings drive our human hearts,
Our nature’s twilight is their lurking-place:
Here too the darkened primitive heart obeys
The veiled suggestions of a hidden Mind
That dogs our knowledge with misleading light
And stands between us and the Truth that saves.
It speaks to us with the voices of the Night:
Our darkened lives to greater darkness move;
Our seekings listen to calamitous hopes.
A structure of unseeing thoughts is built
And reason used by an irrational Force.3

Discussing this article with Donny, he pointed out again something we’ve talked about before, and that’s how the knowledge of how much these ‘crooked fashioners’ are involved in our lives and in all the harm that’s done on this planet is something that has to come out on a societal level and be looked at squarely in the face if we’re going to effectively deal with human wrongdoing and evolve to a state beyond these hostile influences. In science fiction there’s the common theme of humanity uniting to face a common alien invasion, and I can see how this knowledge of hostile forces and beings manipulating and controlling us could serve as a catalyst, or one of them at least, that will give humanity a reason to unite and a common enemy to fight against. This would be a battle of a different kind though since the fight would to free ourselves from their influence, the kingdom conquered our own purified nature and we would all be allies trying to help each other win that personal and at the same time collective war. I honestly don’t expect to see this sort of shift in my lifetime, but I do think it’s coming. How it will all be played out though remains to be seen.

Notes and References

  1. One place where the Mother discusses this particular type of vital entity is in Questions and Answers 1950-51, pg 192
  2. Sri Aurobindo, Savitri, pg 152-153
  3. Ibid, pg 153