God as the ultimate existence that stands up creation, I would not see this as the Mother’s fancy. It was not her might. It wasn’t even what she was doin’. She was an Integral on Earth, a divine mother in human form. She was perfect and cast away all cares? What does a Mother mistake look like? It doesn’t look strong. We can pick apart her works, accept what we want, throw away the rest. No, we would not find the Mother there, but we need to know she’s strong, who made mistakes.
Who couldn’t see her mistakes, would that be a bridge too far? It’s the point of contention. It’s where we start. Now an integral arrangement sees everything in light of integrality. I will melt this understanding if I say it too quickly.
The Yoga of Integral Perfection calls for perfection before you start. Is that the gardener of the house? What does it mean be perfect in everything you do, always be perfect, never falter, never let your guard down once, and be austere always and ban pleasure from the room, all forms of pleasure, and wait for the bliss divine? I’ve paraphrased what the Mother said.
I’ve told you the truth. You can read it yourself. Do we take this and run with it? We die. It’s not possible in a human life. This is what we avoid, rigidity, a non-integral arrangement. What happened here?
The Mother spoke from her gun. She didn’t lift her voice and sing. She got carried away with the force of her words. She wanted divine perfection now. She couldn’t possibly tell us to get there that way: no flesh in the pan; put it on immediately. And yet this is what the Mother told us. It gives us scars. It makes us chew nails. It can’t be right.
We are left wonderin’ what to do, and we go to another place and she said balance your way there; don’t be moral-minded; don’t be a puritan; take it one step at a time; come to integrality slowly as fast as you can; give yourself room to breathe; it’s okay darlin’ I love you.
Can the Yoga see this, the Mother made mistakes? We would have to look at her death, months of moanin’ agony, and Pranab said she never mentioned the Work. We have to look at this. I’m sorry we have to. Was this a baseball card? No, it was her death. It happened to the Mother, and she spoke so bravely of death on so many occasions.
What happened there? All her austerities came to bear. She couldn’t lift them no more. They caught up to her, and in the end they ruled her. Do you know what she did? She kept death at bay. She actually, physically, kept death at bay, and it was her time to go. That’s what we must see, the strength of a God was in that will, but it was misplaced, misapplied, because she was there to conquer death you see.
Oh wait a minute I’m backin’ up. She was there to override death, make the physical a plaything of matter. My gun has misfired, I’m sorry. Make the physical obey the will of the Mother. In all her austerities involving matter, that was her aim.
She didn’t get that far. She came upon her consciousness and wanted done with it, and here’s where I do you business. She wanted done with the spiritual transformation before it was complete. How do I climb that mountain? Have patience with yourself my dear. How did I come to that conclusion? Evidence of the ego in Mother’s Agenda, her outbursts of anger on the floor, her impatience with herself, her still working it out in dream, her pride at being who she was. The Gods wanted her darshan she told a child once, who had angered the Mother for not waiting on her. Watch her hide her toothless grin. What do you say Donny? Mother I love you.
In his haste to put things right, make her where the Yoga stands, Sri Aurobindo overlooked these things in her, and no one could challenge him otherwise. Do you watch the Agenda? Early on is it? She tells Satprem she has gone beyond Sri Aurobindo. The exact nature of her words mean that. I think it’s the next session or shortly thereafter, she reports Sri Aurobindo with a stomachache. It’s all over his face. Now this is vision of course. What was he trying to tell her? She missed it completely. Do you see it? She hadn’t gone beyond Sri Aurobindo.
These are ugly things to look at, and we don’t want to. The Yoga of Integral Perfection bids us do. In her mistakes we are made right. We let them do what they need to do, give us some indication of the hardness of our endeavor, know that it’s not worked out yet the Yoga, and help us do it ourselves, avoiding those mistakes.
My God I’m sorry I’m showin’ this to yah. I’ve dealt with it for years. Maybe you have too? There was the Mother in books, and there was the Mother holding my hand, now my kid’s hand, sometimes very different Mothers. Can you hear this? You’d have to get concrete inner contact to see it.
I’m not down on her. She is the one I follow to make this yoga work for me. It’s her hand I hold. It’s her eyes that direct me where I’m to go. To write this poem I tried to tell her no. I don’t want to make you mad at me. Maybe we’re newfound friends? I obey the Mother, not always, not every time, but in my life she eventually gets her way. I concede.
In you’re hearin’ this poem I do. Please don’t shoot me for it. I love the Mother. I am her disciple, and I take her to heart, an integral, loving, mother that is the divine power behind this yoga, our protection, and our abide by Sri Aurobindo. Do I give you all my knowledge at once? They are one you know.
Now let’s get this beer can away from my lips. The Mother wants it so. Now every once in awhile is fine. Now here’s the deal: how do you break the rules by followin’ them? There has to be a plan, and the Mother laid this one out for me. I like beer, just a beer in the evening one or two times a week, but that would be every evening and two beers before long, and the Mother knows that. I could become an alcoholic so easily. The Mother’s told me that. Okay here it is: an austerity of every once in awhile has to be followed to the letter, and I will know what that letter is when it comes time for another beer inner contact with the Mother and sincere.
Can I get you a train? She’s here for all of us, and she’s right there with the plan for your sadhana. The divine mother she is. Expanded so after death, became that omniscient being as far as we’re concerned sadhaks of the Integral Yoga. She’s our Shakti. She’s our boss. She’s such a loving mother, incredibly above cars, and you and me are a car takin’ our yoga down the street. My job these days get that yoga goin’, by principlin’ it in myself every time I turn around, using myself as the chopping block. I try everybody. It’s not like I always succeed, but I’m the Yoga speaking about itself. Will you give me the time of day? Thank you.
The Mother waits for integral understanding, move this yoga down the road. Am I just a blight on y’all’s ears? Correction. I have the integral word. Will you hear it? You mean practice? If you could do it. Okay this is the church process. No, it’s everything that touches you throughout the day. It gets bigger you understand, a divine process. That’s an integral arrangement.
Gonna application in the very spots that give you problems, and you’ll get better at it every day, with many drawbacks, even goin’ backwards. It’s piecemeal with sudden starts into a brand new day. Ever the horizon waits for you to arrive, and another horizon comes into view, day after day after day. You just integral see you’re comin’ together on the plan, and it’s all comin’ home to yah now you get better at it.
Enjoy yourself some, yeah sure. Vital letting the hair down puts this yoga in perspective, and sometimes it’s not even wrong. I can’t rulebook. This is as plastic as infinity, and all your nature’s on the line, learnin’ how to control itself, learnin’ how to be made right, learnin’ the way to go. It doesn’t happen all at once. It’s a blind see in the very beginning, a hope and promise in the middle, a really coming unto yourself a divine keeper as you arrive. Awesome the world looks, and it’s not your master anymore.
Can I glide here? This is where every minute counts. This is where you have to do it or die. This is what you’ve all built up to, and you really pull it together here, with the Mother’s help, and it is always there, the Mother’s see.
All I know is that cat, she gets and spites you, that muse of creation, but I didn’t close this poem off to the public. This better be good. Because I struggled with the Mother in writing for years, her presentation on paper, the discrepancy between that and the Mother that was guiding me, and I’m not the only one. She’s soft and warm, but she’s fierce in her picture. She can sound so ego in the things that she said. She can sound ridiculous a time or two, like she wasn’t grounded in reality, especially near the end. Her obsession with truth for example, would if you’re hiding Jews?
Somethin’ happened to her later in life. She became obsessed with questions that body of hers could not answer. She wanted immortality that the body wrote, and she left Sri Aurobindo’s teachings, here and there, in the yelp of her cells, a sadhana so perilous, she almost lost her mind. She gave Satprem a golden key to screw up the Yoga after she died, with the transformation of the cells what the Yoga now means to so many in Auroville and around the world.
She set him up for failure, and we could not ignore him, she put so much attention into him, and we need to ignore him. He was an egoistic maniac. And what of Pranab, did you ever meet ‘im? A hateful man. The Mother chose him to be her guardian, and we’re left with his legacy today. What a hateful ashram we have. I’m dealin’ with that now. My little boy makes ‘em mad, bein' with a White man, and they’ve been mean to him. I can’t write poems there now.
Do you know what the Mother said about music? Narad was gonna bring down the new music, and he tried and tried. There was no understandin’ what the new music was, but it’s basically music played or sung to you on the inside, and you’re open to supramental life. Narad didn’t get that. He was not a vehicle to get there. Ananda Reddy was given a mandate to spread Sri Aurobindo’s gospel, make it understandable to men. He’s tried and tried. Thinks he’s done it from what I understand. He’s gotten the Yoga off track and is not open to the Mother. He hates me, and Narad won’t speak to me, ever. What do you do with that? You call it ill will.
We’re left with the Mother speaks, and that was not always correct. Can we find our way around that? I have. I’ve confronted it head on. I’ve seen behind the veil, and I understand the Mother in time. They said if you saw her you would understand. She was more than human. I’ve questioned so many people about that. Her presence caused people to wonder if not God had filled the room. Did you know she slapped a little girl across the face? I heard it from her brother himself. He witnessed it, was a kid too. She got mad at the child and hit her, and no one said a word. It was at a function and the child misbehaved, nothing major.
Was that the first time? Why did I hear about it? I would imagine you haven’t. That about wraps it up, the last image I want you to see, to understand the Mother was wrong sometimes in her earthly embodiment. A Yoga of Self-Perfection she wore she didn’t live up to, never mind the Goddess behind the frame. She told us to be perfect, and we can’t, not at least from day one. I’m finished, a poem so real on itself fulfills the time on the Earth.
Nithish and I taking a selfie together for this poem
This poem was written for the trustees of the Sri Aurobindo Ashram in Pondicherry, India, and was given to them the only way correspondence can be, if you are not an ashramite or someone they know, by giving it in an envelope to Mr Puru at the photo room adjacent to the Samadhi, and whether or not he will pass it on is entirely up to him. The Samadhi is the tomb of the Mother and Sri Aurobindo, where people come to sit, meditate, and pray, which is located at the ashram.
We met these tomfooleries. Do you ever look at your own car? Can you be a better sadhak in wood, a better disciple of Sri Aurobindo? I lunge there: I spend my day in total concentration. This is a farmer on my land. I really till the soil. The concentration comes and goes, but it’s picked up time and time again. It’s fits and starts, all day long.
Can you be a better sadhak of Sri Aurobindo? I’m burnin’ on that ground. I clear my mind and find it’s there, for few certain minutes. Can we come back to this? I always do. I am disciple of Sri Aurobindo that always hears words my inner ear hears. I write them down through a voice recorder. My God I’m a seer someone said. No one’s said this yet. I’m just this guy with wood, if you see me on the street, held by my little boy.
He’s white and I’m black, as society sees us, an easy lesson in symbols if you hear. What color am I with him? I am navy green. That means he’s safe with me. What a spectacle for a pair of eyes. The racial mix’s intriguing, on the bandwidth of ourself. Don’t doctor this up. We’ve got infinity going for us, racin’ around, a whole field show. We do sadhana together. I be his teacher.
He’s not cloven foot. He stands on his sadhana too, a kid in grace and poise. Okay stand back. Here’s where we differ. Open the inner consciousness child. Reach in there and find soul. Open up in vision God. The Mother and Sri Aurobindo take those places so many times in his dreams and visions, and in his understanding of God. A child’s understanding basks in time. No matter, they are his guides and goads.
He’s opened the inner consciousness, and his poetry would map our Earth, if we but could give it time to breathe. School shoves it down his throat: hey kid, study for your exams? An exam is a holdover from the last institution: caveman you gotta learn this mile; it’s survival of the fittest. My God the lists against this kid are strong. It’s a wonder he’s even doing it, bein’ a vehicle of the inner voice. The inner lines are strong.
I know the doubt and fear cast on this. You would only see to know. His latest poem I include at the back of this email. His latest voice I include. We measure this by the strength of his ego. That’s not fair. A little kid’s sense wrote this.
Now here we are sittin’ at the back of this ego. And we mention the poet. I’m in the poem you see. Now listen to a story. I’ve given my kid the voice recorder. He might get a line. We are at the opposite pole of the Samadhi from the crowd. I’ve never sat there before. I'm with my other student Mithun, who hears inner music. I don’t got no more students but them.
A band plays. I hear the line “Ice cold Samadhi” just given into my inner ear, but my boy’s got the voice recorder occupied, whisperin’ in two lines of his own: “Rechargeable minds here, Olympus.” Here’s where it gets weird. Someone not connected with the Samadhi watch, not a staffer there, or so I think not, gets an eye on the voice recorder, walkin’ by the mountain. “Gimmie that.” No polite words were spoken, no considerations one, no respect none.
It’s here you’re doin’ sadhana, when somebody pops yah. All the gold comes out. I’m sorry to say none of mine did. In the ensuing conversations with this person and that, I just defended myself, and my boy there. I did not do what I was supposed to do: not react, but I didn’t tell one person off. I kept reaction out of my voice, to the degree anger and ill will I didn’t let show.
This I was careful to do. No one heard me. No one said a word. You know how this is gonna be reported: that son of a bitch lied and stole. You will believe your people, of course, but all things show themselves in time, and no one will be able to lie then, together or apart.
I’m left with a voice recorder I’ve used there now many years. I’ve written poems from that Samadhi, framed one and gave it to yah, “The Rotisserie of God”. No one has ever copied me, the reason I was told I couldn’t do it: everyone will. You think I’d of been discovered by now if it were a ruckus, but I can bring a pencil and paper if you insist. That leaves me with gold they will take from me there, when I come to pray. We will check you now every time. You know when a threat’s spoken. It’s the hatred in their eyes. We will harass you every time you come here. Can this not be what they really said?
Well Savitri asks for boons, from the spectre death. I’m not gonna ask for the blind to see. I’m just a sadhak not Savitri, but I hear you call my name, and can I write poetry sir on my voice recorder at the Samadhi? Well, I’ll wait. Now here’s the one I’m worried about. Can I enter the ashram gates without bein’ harassed? I’ll bring pencil and paper sir, until you tell me otherwise. No hidden cameras to record my voice I’ll wear. Do we have a deal?
Trustee please, are you spiritual? This is a Samadhi question. I live there in my heart all the time. I react, sure, but I’m there, and I live in vision. I see the world before my eyes a thing under creation. It’s being made right now. I hear this in vision, and you did too. “Ice cold Samadhi” means it was a frigid place emotionally, and where was this? It was in the situation I described. These men were ice cold, no warmth at all in their voice or in their eyes. Immediately they rose to anger, all riled upon themselves, and I’d had prevision of this, in that line of muse, just before it started.
The world rose there, before my very eyes, and I only saw it after it was over. Could help then? Well it sure helps in our conversation. I don’t think those men gathered the future before it happened. They were not focused and gathered. All came to put that foreigner in his place, like their reaction was natural the order of the day, like they weren’t doing sadhana. They acted like the inner voice had no place in Sri Aurobindo’s yoga. It was wrong.
Can I tell you something else? Well, my inner voice was right on. I forgot to tell yah… Some people say no I just made a mess. He wants to go over it look— my muse on where I’ve been. I’ve been to the moon and back, if you’re listenin’ to muse, and I’ve danced with the military on tactical nukes, a U.S. special forces commando. I’ve been in the heart and breath stop in Silent Mind, that hurried glance, and I saw the Gods in their tiers in Overmind, and on a rim of dreamless sleep, dived into the well of soul. Would you believe in overhead? The consciousness raises up there, like several meters, and there you find Supermind. Makes for a lot of poetry. Brief glimpses all, but I’ve seen what I’m sayin’.
I can go round about the world a penniless vagabond— 27 countries in 10 years. Do you have that faith? I don’t think you even learned Classical Greek. Translate Euripides into English verse, and you’ll gather strength in poetry. You also get good at it, in time. Took me 25 years, even after I started hearin’ it.
Now can we define the future poetry? The future’s got that in hand. I don’t understand. I’ve heard the future call my name, and you won’t show this to anyone? Paper airplanes every poem I’ve made? Make or break yah, these are not conventional teeth. Are you open to the divine? Candywood make or break yah, what you hear on the internet today.
I’m sorry I took it up, the internet speaker. I get laughed at and lauded. The latter’s not louder, but they’ve gotta eat too, the people on there for the breeze, and I might be seen soon by a pitchfork and a vital that hate me so much I go viral. Look there’s nothing in them, the threats I face today. The rotating officer is not interested in me. I’m not hurtin’ anybody. I’m not doin’ anything wrong. Now you’re starrin’ me, at your look see.
Oh well, do it to her face okay? Get another bad piece from her. You gave her a poem that said she needed to work on it, humanity’s tiger. Do people really wanna act like that at the ashram? A boy his hair, that’s what he does. I thought you’d notice they walk silly. Good idea, I’m talking about being human kind and loving to all who enter your gates.
You’re gonna have to, whadda you do? Really buckle down and be good to people, and her hair could be picked up too, and she could focus and concentrate, breakin’ along can reality period, yeah, yeah. Global, I even ask you to global change. Here it is you have a mirror. There’s broad stroke said it. There’s the yoga. Everybody makes mistakes. Would you offer this to the Mother?
Opening up kids, I agree with you. We don’t block them from society. We fathom them God. We don’t fathom them school. And they become there, on the journey to God a society rose. What do we hope by it? We get bigger than ourselves. His heart, a little boy rises his soul. A little boy rises I’ve been meanin’ to tell you. The expectation’s not the kid. It’s the consciousness. What’s this mountain? You wanna bring God into the world.
I tried to do a little explainin’ on boyness and the nature of man, on bein’ human. We are here for this. We need all our strength. Practice is another suite. Send it sweet. Did you get everybody put in this spirit? It takes the world to make it up. Blown up yeah. We made it here, in this section, to the touch of a magazine. Everything’s online, and this will be too, now or never.
Do you understand the flavor here? That’s the flavor of change. That’s the flavor of Harm’s End. These are bunk beds, and we live here, grandfather and his grandson you keep hittin’ at. Did I mention Douglas? Puts together his life with the Mother. A house is not complete without dogs, and we have four. They are the love of our life.
Our friend is on the roof, Narasimha, protecting my house if you should try to take me down. I don’t die. A divine worker is protected. This is what I’m aiming: the life divine. So much power, you’ll have instructions. May God bless you.
Your outer form was carried right. We are not derelicts or sinners. We are safe and sound. I’m will extra deep, alright? Okay, you have been warned. You don’t mess with divine protection, but are you really mean-spirited? Does the Mother cross your brow if you should hate someone? Okay your character’s on the table now. May you wish blessings for all. May you really hold the Mother’s hand.
I bear you no ill will. I’m not in a campaign to smear your name. I’m doin’ what I’m supposed to be doin’, here writing you a poem, now doing sadhana. I’ve changed the ticker tape in his life, that kid. Am I glad he met me with the divine. I’ve met you that way. That’s the story. Oh wait a minute daddy I wanna fix my lunch, one second. A purity of kid rose, a gracious cartoon. Now let’s survive this and become better friends.
You know it’s there, the fact of your will or consciousness behind a lesson. Okay, noted. Well it will transfer that it was made by the foreigner. Okay, spit on ‘im. I don’t think so. Your thought process in relation to your thoughts, and you pick them up randomly? Now that’s got uncle and brother, your bigger clothes, without AI. I’m here to help.
Paradise Things With Lyrics by S. Nithish
Reach for peace, but it’s a long jump away. It’s One stairs. Butterflies are our airplanes. They’re peaceful and calm. They can fly us to space. From there we need to walk.
There’s a place for everybody in the world. I did two steps: let the Light be the guide; my place is out of this world. We all have something that we should pass on. I do not have a turnoff button.
The ancient minds were better. They left out clues for us. They left out clues around the world. We should always say thanks. Stars were meant to be together.
I am down on Main Street just by bein’ there. I’m everybody’s special mission. Ah, I’m studying the ways of the world, the field of mankind. I have the Earth in view. I see what I’m sayin’. Do you see it?
My poetry put you in barns. No, it’s not clipped prose. It’s symbol wrought. I speak from vision’s lair. You see the symbol on it and the all-managing meaning. What does a barn mean? You got animals in there, and it’s where you were raised if you can’t polite society, or if you don’t know what it means to be human. Am I calling you names?
Well let’s get there, to where I wanna take you, and it’s not the hatred bunch. I sit in your smile and sing. It’s got symbol on it. I sit in your animal and sing. We are all rough wars. We’ve got some things to learn about each other. Can you see the writing on the wall? We would celebrate that Hebrew saying. It shows us so much.
We are not kind to each other. World Kindness Day has an explosion test. This guy went off on me, and my kid just stepped on a red carpet. He was livid with hatred. I didn’t understand it. I thought I’d done something wrong. You know how kids are, they play. He stepped on a standing iron that meant nothing.
It didn’t make any harm. He was dancin’ into the ashram on his feet. No he wasn’t making swirls. He just got in there in kid shoes. A little pole he stepped on its base. You know the kind with tape between them to guide people in? I’m describin’ the action so you can see the picture: nothing happened.
The thing didn’t get injured, and it didn’t make any noise. The man jumped up, sittin’ there right past the gate, and started tellin’ somebody they were out of line. There was no line of people there. He was just talking to my kid, ignoring me, purposefully. Now who is he talking to I thought at first. The man showed me what my kid had done, like he’d entered Auschwitz a Nazi protector, like my kid had really done something wrong.
He demonstrated the action, stepped on the thing. I couldn’t believe it. I was surprised. Without saying anything, wanting to get to that Samadhi so me and my kid could learn the school of the Samadhi that day, its lesson, I half-turned and gestured a mock surprise, then bellowed my arms and changed my face a mine of that boy being guilty of grave concerns, but I was laughin’ about it in my eyes and face it was so trivial in nature the boy’s infraction. It was such a good performance.
The man did not appreciate the performance. He got mad as hell. I think I said first “He’s a child.” He made the Shh! gesture to his lips like he was shooting me. It hurt. That really isn’t the quiet area. The way he thrust his face forward and danced on his feet, I saw the problem, racial hatred. They don’t like foreigners in that ashram, though they’ll pretend to if they like your name, and my kid’s Tamil. That Indian was not. Wow, the can of worms we can open here. The Sri Aurobindo Ashram hates Tamils. No, but they look down their nose at them.
I tried to give him my name but he refused it, trying to be kind and not answer the reaction that was bubblin’ in me. He didn’t give me a chance to do the yoga. That man called another man, a passer by, Tamil if I’m figurin’ right, to enforce this prejudice against Tamils, but all he knew he hated foreigners too. You get that in India a lot.
There was a dance, as the rude individual safeguarding Nazi ways showed the other what the boy had done by doin’ it himself. If it was really wrong then why’d he keep doin’ it? Well the Tamil man hated me too. Why you’d ask, because the boy had done something wrong? I asked both if they were concentrating on the yoga. Those fingers to their lips stabbed me in my heart. I called out their hatred. I felt as though if I said another word they’d call the police. I just had to say it: the Mother is watching you know, and there I joined my boy on the steps. They gave off a noise with their postures and facial expressions that showed I had really messed up.
I walked away. Nithish was almost in tears. I could see the pain in his eyes. He was hurt. He wanted to go immediately, leave the ashram. No, we do our Samdhi today, and I glowed with him as our foreheads came to that special place, where we meet our masters and put their energy in our papers.
On the way out I stopped, right there in the gate, turned and faced the man and said good morning. I wanted him to see me. I had wanted to take his picture, but convinced myself no, cameras aren’t allowed. So I stood there, my camera’s eyes. He looked at me and put his hand on his heart, like he was the most gentil human being, and said good morning too.
I wondered over the proximities of human behavior. What mules we are. I could’ve done better, but how about you, do you see the writing on this poem? This is typical ashram behavior with guests. What can we do about it? We can write poems and show the world.
Stop dyin’.
Don’t bury yourself.
Don’t compromise.
That’s when your guesses are weak.
Our thesis is this:
a themed to understand mankind.
Is that controlled see?
It’s bigger than you and me.
It doesn’t land you in the dirt,
grovelin’ life force pennies.
You know what I mean?
Now let’s program.
I will see you off to school,
okay?
I can’t do that.
Let’s do that.
You and Roberson are part of a family plan.
We have convinced you to send your kids to school.
Now that was a trick.
Don’t you blame it on the industrial revolution?
Thereabouts.
Universal education,
put China as a role model.
She started long before.
I’m not tellin’ yah to do it.
I’m tellin’ yah it stinks.
What’s wrong with society?
School.
We teach academics not to be good to one another.
While Japan started with good citizenry,
they created a monster,
copying the West.
We don’t teach boys and girls to be good people,
how to handle life,
their depression,
modes of being,
ways to get out of trouble.
We focus on one thing:
good handwriting
in academic subjects,
brain things.
Do you know how dumb this is?
Look at society.
I’m not talkin’ teachin’ morals,
do this don’t do that.
Yah hear me kids?
We’re not producin’ robots
Confucius.
We want them to obey
their conscience,
and that’s not mean and cruel.
It doesn’t hit anybody,
unless it’s warped,
like a magnet,
and is attracted to society’s dominance.
We want individuals here (sorry India)
that stand and reason
for the juxtapositions of society to stop.
Do you hear me Houston?
What do you teach in a classroom?
Able-bodied citizens,
can I speak with you?
Of course, I’m open.
Why you learn from me?
Now that’s a touch subject.
I need to study you first,
and we look at criteria.
These are society’s ways
we understand how to teach.
Well this presentation
is not a memorization kit.
It’s a school play.
You play a lot
to get the concepts down,
where society meets its roles.
Okay now you be the immigrant,
and you’re the assimilation policy.
You take it in droves:
students must constantly assimilate new material
of what they will face in life.
They will be ready for life.
We want to think and we want to feel
oh my that’s sad isn’t it?
I don’t think we avoid the tough stuff.
There’s a toddler in a revolution
sees his parents killed,
his brother his sister.
They live in Gaza now
or a kibbutz nearby.
Alright third grader,
feel that.
Are you lonely now?
Do we teach them to read?
Without society you cannot read.
We read all the time.
We need to learn to read to write.
Expressing feelings and ideas
takes the spotlight.
The grammar and spelling
is to encourage them to write,
and neither demands them to write.
Now I can polish off the academic subjects
in the same way.
It’s a feelings test.
Does the student feel like shit?
There’s still a prize
for academic achievers,
for those smart kids.
We just follow up
with their holistic report card.
We need them kind too.
We need them on the ball
to bring in a better world.
Piles and orchards,
we don’t spread them out in those.
Okay kill the neighborhood
you’ve made the secret formula.
Here’s an idea:
don’t try to make a scientist out of everybody,
or a doctor or an engineer.
Oh India you’re lost here.
Does the kid have a talent?
Teach them that
as if their life depends on it
because it does.
Teachers are role models
of good behavior.
If they fly off the handle they apologize
and start again.
Did I say they love children?
They never hit them.
They know what it’s like to be in school,
and that’s not all day.
It doesn’t take over children’s lives.
It doesn’t even need to be so big—
little small groups here and there
neighborhood arranged,
and there’s mixing
to bring everybody to state.
We do sports.
Do you see how small this is?
A few hundred students no.
Sometimes just a handful—
depend on the center used.
We really want time for the students
to get the attention they need.
How decentralized is this?
It’s a whole other concept of education,
called No School by the Mother.
No one follows her anymore
in this regard.
You wouldn’t spank them.
You can have an administration
visiting all the schools
constantly,
friendly,
a great big leviathan no.
We want nice people
that can work hard and play.
Do you hear me society?
A Palestinian boy sits on the rubble of his house destroyed in an Israeli airstrike, in Beit Hanun, Gaza. Photograph: Mohammed Saber/EPA
When the ticks were talking about building churches,
it’s free speech.
I don’t know who I have a ham on today.
I don’t know who’s worthy.
I don’t know who I’m talking about.
It’s race cards.
Can we talk about the Black Lives Movement supporting Israel?
It did in Chicago—
okay Hamas,
you terrorists,
thank you for being a friend.
I don’t know what I’m saying—
that was a Harvard trainee.
Let’s be blunt about this:
can we support Israel,
and they treat Palestinians like shit?
They are the oppressors.
Oh my goodness a homegrown flag:
the Palestinians weren’t there before Israel.
They became a nation under Israel’s cause.
Now they’re out to do harm,
indiscriminately killing civilians,
or that’s the show they put on
when they got out of their fence.
I mean they murdered.
It hurts doesn’t it?
The Palestinians want to show you
what it means to be Palestinian,
where Jewish means Israel.
That harms.
Okay we put Hamas in the kitchen and praise them.
You inhuman bastards,
is that how you gain freedom?
We don’t know.
We just hate ourselves
and see a Jew and want to kill them.
That’s the dry land:
we can’t kill Jews.
We shoulder our own freedom.
It must work among ourselves
before it goes outwards.
How is this done?
I have a naked little boy and don’t rape him.
I pull myself together.
I tie his shoe instead.
A poet will always speak in symbols,
his life the bait.
We learn to stop violence towards our children.
We are gentle and soft with them.
They eat out of our hand,
and we feed them warm and honey.
We do not blister them
with having to hate Jews.
We do not require this of them.
We do not indoctrinate them to kill.
How kind are we to one another?
We let our humanity light up our life.
A stray dog is an opportunity
to give our world some compassion.
We hold each other tightly,
as the brothers and sisters we are.
We do not do violence to one another.
We try to show each other love,
or at least the patience
you give a friend.
We strong arm no one.
We stand up for human rights.
We stop hurting one another.
Then our gliders come in peace.
We show the Israelis what they’re missin’.
We give them reason to respect us.
We brush aside their hatred
with the real human being.
This is all we can do.
War will kill us.
It will enslave our land.
Go to the heart of the conflict,
the hatred of the Jew,
and bury there.
Can you understand these people?
Can you see their plight?
More than a few are good-hearted towards you.
Not all are racists.
Not all think it’s their human right
to be the chosen people.
This is the dragon in the land.
It’s this we must eradicate,
not Jews.
It’s this we must show is wrong,
the essence of Jewish hatred,
the hidden core of their persecution.
We must not bury Jews
or destroy their peopleness.
They are a tower and a might,
and oh we need the Jews.
Can you sink them?
Are you rubbin’ elbows with those who’ve tried?
I think you need new friends.
Even in hell Jews triumphed.
They fight differently than most men.
They fight with their brains.
You’re gonna do them in?
We count on you
to show Israel its humanity.
You are the problem they cannot solve.
Their brains can’t grasp this:
there were a people on their land they took,
and now they must oppress them.
Victim turned victimizer once again,
we can’t see this as human frailty
common to everyone.
So what can you do to Israel that Israel needs to see?
You are a fine people
together in your lot.
You take hardship and spit out pearls.
You sacrifice for those around you.
You take your humanity
and circle the wagons with it.
It’s the way you meet oppression:
you are a noble people,
and therefore hard to abuse.
How would this act
when faced with aggression?
You kill the combatants
to defend yourselves,
and there you’ll win the respect of every nation
and show the world who’s wrong.
I think we complete this
in the issues of the night.
Glory hallelujah it’s dawn.
I thought I’d made you up.
This is a little spark of God in life.
You’ve pointed out the errors
in human ways.
A call to arms,
humanity’s arms,
wow you have children there.
Well spoken said.
Oh statute of limitations,
it’s just a matter of time
the Palestinian cross.
You’re kidding me—
the Palestinian blues.
Those are Greek and Roman myths
made real by human suffering.
It’s a Dispatches’ record
my hullabaloo.
Now they can be up there.
Give me a credit.
I’m pickin’ up the pace.
Gloria in Excelsis Deo. [line heard sung, from “Angels We Have Heard on High”]
Just put boiled rice,
I just put boiled rice.
What did you put in the blue container?
I’m all here bitches, shoot me.
I don’t think you understand the situation.
You’re gonna have to get bigger than you are.
It’s not gonna work killin’ people.
You have to show Israel who’s the human being.
Is your culture up to that,
to self-develop?
You just continue
life along the shores of persecution,
so you can stop its history on you.
This is done slowly.
Every man, woman, and child
must agree to band together
and be good to one another.
This is the team roll.
This is how you begin.
You’ll be working with each other’s subconscious, that’s for sure.
Study your dreams that will help you out here.
You have to learn not to react,
and you have to learn not to be mean.
It’s a process
doable.
It will improve conditions right away.
You’re gettin’ ready to love.
You’re gettin’ ready to be a balanced people.
This is not wishy-washy handshake bullshit.
You do things for one another.
You don’t slap, hit, or cuss out.
You keep hatred out of your voice.
You be the real thing to each other.
You be a friend.
It’s all over your face
when you are.
The Israeli settler
or the Israeli enforcer
will see you a human being,
not a rock throwing mob,
and they will act accordingly,
when they’re embarrassed by their own actions.
You don’t know the bone of contention here.
Will the real humanity please stand up?
You stand up and show Israeli yours.
Obviously if they’re shooting you you can’t,
but barring that.
I’m not talking lambs to the slaughter.
You never surrender your dignity.
You just comply with regulations
a noble human being.
Show them who’s boss,
and it’s not the Jews.
It’s our heartfelt humanity.
It’s our great get along.
I’m liberty speaking,
and you’re looking for that equipment.
I’ve spoken enough to Israel
in a book I’ve left on Amazon—
definite flavor
reconciliation.
It’s not your own state you want.
It’s that:
to live at peace among the Jews equal citizens.
That’s the example Earth needs
to keep our world from blowing each other up.
Can you do that Arab citizen,
Palestinians of Israel,
Palestinians held hostage by Israel,
Palestinians in the land of Israel?
Under the Israeli banner
so bigger
than for Jews and Jews alone,
Palestinians can be free again.
If you look at the roads there’s no other way.
Between Jerusalem I’m Sorry
will point out the crossroads.
It’s a matter of seeing them
and not do anything shameful.
Love towards Israel,
can you fit this into your schedule?
If you’ll be one nation you must.
Put this in your resettlement plan.
Now Palestinian refugee,
give resettlement a chance,
cause there’s a secret ingredient to Israel.
It comes
if we labor together
for a common goal.
The secret ingredient is floating off the top of my head,
and it’s called the home for the human being.
Enough of religious politics.
God is not the wrathful, bigoted, murderer you all suppose.
Find God and see.
It will revolutionize your life,
and you’ll be kind to your fellow man.
Jews will not be the inescapable people,
Muslims will not be the only ones on earth worth.
You have to integrate.
You have to learn to live together.
This is your mandate to each other.
Not big enough
to be only kingpins
Mr. and Ms. Jew.
You have to concede their plight,
so they can see yours.
A resettled human being
has that in their plan:
keeping humanity safe.
You give it
to everybody around you:
safe passage from point A to point B,
and let’s go from there.
One key thing
rule book the exercise
of your warm humanity.
I know this sounds very arranged.
You keep time
I’ll give you something.
I would just love to.
That’s an Israeli learning what it means to be Israel:
really going to court
to learn our humanity.
It’s like you’re free there.
The Mother told them to do that.
That’s hope.
Martin Luther King Jr. at the Controls by Donny Lee Duke
The three best ways to keep a lovin’ song down:
keep it under wraps;
tear it apart;
or get it morally censored.
What will happen to this song?
Change the world
in person.
Chronos’ fuckin’ with ‘im.
What do we do with inner process?
Figure it out?
It’s discrepancy,
and I’m tired of it.
I can’t see anything straight.
What do I do?
Move off campus.
You mean not listen to You?
Don’t dwell on thought.
Don’t just sit there and think.
Try something different.
Image real to yourself.
Play with your thoughts as reality in front of your face.
You’re lookin’ at the world
you’re lookin’ at your thought.
Try this at home.
Image reality to yourself
where people really get your goat
they know you so well.
Try not to open the door with thought.
Be a blank mind.
Stretch this
to infinity.
Don’t stop tryin’.
Your effort is your sadhana.
This is not success or fail.
This is do.
You savvy sweetheart?
I wil try.
As I was sayin’:
I don’t trust inner process
to tell me what to do
in that moment in life.
Otherwise make it happen
to change the world,
and you know it can.
Why resist?
That little boy,
this goes deep,
the relationship I’m having with him.
It’s complicated in poetry.
Our lives are in sync.
We share thoughts and boundaries.
Our inner lives are in sync.
We temple together.
There’s a line of his muse
in my poetry
when he didn’t see it in my poetry.
I hear this and celebrate
close ties,
eyes that join
in inner vision.
Is this too much for him?
He’s just a kid.
I’m glad you asked.
You’re the engineer.
The little boy spills all in front of you.
You teach him how to handle himself,
play poetry,
what his nature house.
I never gave him the thought.
It just occurred
when the Mother,
the Mother and Sri Aurobindo,
they took that boy by the hand.
He became Their disciple.
Would you believe a bolt of lightning hit him in the chest
standing before Their last darshan couch
Supermental Day last?
That’s how it started.
The opening came then.
I was there to facilitate it,
to open him to God.
I am his sadhana master,
and that’s the basis of our relationship.
There’s no monkeys in the house.
I don’t cancel him down.
She’s had the dog
in her parents' room,
when they abuse
where the line are.
When it’s my turn
to be his parental figure,
I’m very careful with those lines.
I know he’s angry
about getting slapped and beat,
threatened with death.
Ice cream
I buy for him every day
in my care.
We talked about that.
We called it moral-minded.
I thought you understood
you don’t raise a kid with rules.
You can,
if you want a kid bound by rules.
I’m the horse guy look at me.
Put it right in your phone,
desire coming up.
Don’t put a hold on it.
Be free and easy with it.
Don’t stay there.
What’ll I do with it?
Put it in the iTunes Store,
avoid that button.
Just sit with it clear and easy.
Don’t let it push you.
Don’t give in to it.
Don’t even tickle your fancy with it.
We don’t beat it.
We sit it out,
wait it out.
It’s not wrong it’s just there.
It’s a smelling salts for reality.
It’s unique to you,
why would you say that?
Everybody has to deal with this.
We regulate it
with a host of laws and penalties
as if they work.
We do not let it be an excuse
for behavior.
Freewill comes into play
we are told.
We disclose it to each other.
We are ashamed by it.
We have children,
we block this sight from our own view.
We don’t see it
in our hands as we wash them,
in our eyes
as we see them so fabulously naked.
It’s there,
and time will show it to you,
if you look.
We run with this?
We don’t eat kids.
They’re special.
They are in the room
when we see it
in ourselves,
when desire comes up.
Desire comes and goes.
It’s in everybody’s life.
It has to be handled.
It has to be seen,
seen real.
We don’t play with it
around our children,
if we can help it.
That leads to dead ends,
and children get spanked and smacked on
and get molested.
You know this is true.
Don’t let it entertain your monkey.
I’ve given other examples
the right way sex can be with kids
in “The Use of Animal Freedom”.
Hear that one,
where sex and kids meet wrong today.
To Rumble’s house
farther to go.
Tamil Nadu,
a door of a red handle,
punch out man.
Tamil Nadu,
stay away from the red door.
Don’t beat your children,
slap them,
punch them around.
They’re precious to you.
Do you hear them scream?
I think this is written all over your paper.
Children don’t have it easy with you.
They suffer.
You don’t know this.
You can’t see your own hands
Mr. and Mrs. Abuse Children.
I call this up from the deeps.
It was that way with me
when I was little.
Now my kid has made me mad,
done something wrong,
or just bothered me.
Then it all comes up again,
my unhappy kid-dom,
and I operate on program.
I don’t care the position he’s in.
I just start slappin’.
I don’t know this hurts him
in his developmental function.
I have that right.
I’m his parent.
Thank you God.
What’s happening here?
Desire has found its home
in a socially approved response mechanism.
It’s condemned on TV.
The presenters themselves
wack their kids
off camera.
I can compare this to touching a vagina
in a little girl’s life,
but you don’t know this is more harmful,
hitting them in the head.
I’m sorry I’ve made you mad.
You don’t know the power of violence over children’s lives.
You don’t know the power of sex over children’s lives.
Both harm.
One gets out the shotgun.
A sexual cannon no.
Mr. and Mrs. Abuse-Their-Kids,
pay attention please.
Where thoughts occur,
it’s not a bright and shiny place,
is laced with uncertainty.
It’s all on holdin’ the world wrong.
You see this you look.
The Whole looks at us.
The fragment looks back.
We are separate beings in time,
an erroneous vision.
Whatta we say about thought?
It arises.
It comes.
It’s there.
And a tenebrous unknown
has the thinker’s brow.
What gulfs lit the night
when we looked at the world for the first time
in the handicap of thought.
It pressurizes time.
It makes of us mincemeat.
It will not stop even for death,
what narrow bridge that is.
You seen it?
How special thought is
to make sense of the world,
to help us help or slay one another,
to give us more feeding room,
to come up with plans,
to turn around and change the world.
It hammers nails
on the fence of time,
held apart in yummy synchronicity,
modes of thought,
and get some answers—
quite the hero.
Do you get me?
I get yah dog.
Put your blue down it doesn’t stink.
It just sits in the powder.
These are the conditions.
You’re talkin’ about that boy, ain’t yah?
Don’t worry,
I have the edification.
I’m gonna spell it out to you.
We have a different choice.
You’re not gonna bust us up.
You’re not gonna hurt him
or me.
You’re not gonna regulate our relationship.
You’re gonna leave us alone.
Humanity needs this vision.
We play the game.
We don’t commode.
We be convenient.
We are open to you.
Two seers in time
startle vision.
We're not gonna compromise vision.
We’re going to remain loyal and true
to our seership.
That boy,
a man he will become.
Housed under my roof?
And in line with his truth.
You can use another poet
who can bring down Earth
on the stars of Heaven,
let them know our plight
and our road beyond them.
Here we’re playin’
some Krishna tune.
We are a bright and shiny love in the wells of time.
We do not make you stink.
We are Heaven and Earth together,
and we are seers of the Sun of Truth.
Throw all that over here,
everything we need to survive,
a protected house
and a place for our dogs.
We need your help.
Without your protection
we get violated
Auroville Media Ashram.
You know we’re your entity,
and we see the master plan as one future Auroville.
It’s up to you.
It’s your movie.
We are the inner you were built on,
5th army,
and we’re here to see the Sun.
There’s no stopping us,
unless you throw away reason
and pin us to the ground.
We’re your seers Auroville,
he and I,
the little boy and me.
Stick with the plan:
Auroville becomes divinized,
and the Yoga works.
Great the visions lay, huh?
Hey, you give thirsty a drink,
and you feed us with your vision.
Okay poets,
do your thing.
It will be misunderstood.
Can a kid change parents if they’re not happy?
What would address the soul need?
Would the parents have a right to say no
if his soul wanted him to leave,
if that were God’s will,
if that’s what the Mother wanted?
I ask you that.
How do you tell that?
First we establish that art,
and art alone,
will show that child’s soul
and the divine will operating in his life,
that art inspired by inner voice and vision.
Can I show it to you?
My grandson wants to live with me.
My little student wants to be near his master.
A seer-poet in training
wants to learn the inner craft.
This is soul arranged,
and I’ll prove it
with poetry written from the inner voice,
the boy’s poetry,
set in a video the boy filmed
just being a kid.
You will see inner process
amazingly match the outside world.
The two are in sync.
I have other prizes to show you,
but this one is the crown achievement today:
“Menu of the Gods”.
Now go
and see this video.
[hover over the last three lines and click]
Will AI better or ruin us? Will it take over or replace us? We go to things unmistakenly horrible. At bottom we blame ourselves. What’s the highest good have to do with it? That’s the poem. It will challenge your sense of good. It will blow the world out from under your feet, and I’m just talking read it. Who owns the official compound? The Helicopters. I’m a first provider.
Is that the dynamic? We choir now. He’s so little he expands your room. Settled in myself to eat, that’s the flavor of sadhana, and we enhance. It’s an inner journey. We go for it. It’s an inner cleaving. We humble ourselves and do it. It rebounds. It grabs yah. It’s an opening you do when you’re hungry. You’re hungry for God’s touch. [“Open to God’s touch” heard during darshan in the Mother’s room, and then the muse changed it as I walked down the stairs so it fit this poem that was coming as I waited for the room darshan and went through the line in and out of her room, the most of this verse, from the eat line, coming in that quiet activity on her death day] This is the lifeline. This is sustenance.
Try to prevent a fracture in sadhana, a more sustained doing might do so. I’m sure I belong there. You’re here. I don’t think we take the vital out of our room. The right vital comes out. The mystic of the flute lives on on ocean’s rainbow. [vision of an Indian-style key, the long variety, on the step of a concrete, light blue flight of stairs about two thirds up] A key, it’s hard to report their bouncing effect. You throw them away. You don’t know how to use them. You pour beer over them, vital indulgences. Now one comes. Open its window. Be there in the sky for it all active on time.
[four visions, two side by side then the other two the same, of strange, colorful scenes I could not make out they happened so fast] We interrupt your dream venture to put you in touch with yourself. You don’t know yourself. I think you use a sadhana watch, and they won’t fool you. They tell it like it is. You’re out to lunch, and that other one’s over there not climbing the street right. You need each other to focus, a small sum of human beings, no more than a handful. You fit. You share similar interests. You live in close proximity. You can’t digital do this as a group come together. Get real with one another, nice and kind and polite, not tryin’ to pass up one another, not tryin’ to be mean.
[vision of Lisa, my deceased Rottweiler, curled up against an urban wall in a dog ball but her head up and looking at me, sadly] Titties suck my dear. You don’t get out of them what you need. They’re not your bread and butter. They test and try you, as humans do. Romantic love is hard to motion here. I think you’re friends, deeply connected, why you come together, how you come together. You’ll recognize this in dreams. You move on one another in the friendship relationship of a dream. You’re bonded. It’s great to be together. This gets deeper. You family one another. Respect this group. Leaving it’s a soul’s choice. It’s not based on petty arguments. You will go to school together learnin’ sadhana.
All your dreams come together in the group. Everyday you share them, work out meaning, time. This grows. You do this all the time. The inner relationship’s happenin’. Now you go together to sadhana central. You want to do sadhana all the time. A minute don’t go by without it. It’s your mainstay. It’s your life’s blood. It’s what’s you’re doin’ in life. You keep at it. You keep goin’.
A small circle/handful of people [words spoken simultaneously] do nothing else. This is the basis of life. It’s everywhere apparent. It’s how you concentrate. It’s there all the time, always concentrating. It gathers you. It puts you in touch with yourself so you see what you’re doin’. No tellin’ where you are with yourself. It could be at the beach. It could be in metallurgy. You could be climbin’ buildins, playin’ in the street or in front of a crowd. You’re always concentratin’ whatever you do. The mind’s the game.
Now what does that what you see in your mind carry, a present moment swirl? You do there concentrate. Where do you put the bubble? On higher than yourself. You’re tryin’ to reach divine. It’s the major of your focus, connection, contact. You know the divine’s right there in front of you. Keep the world relatin’ in that key, and everything you do will be fine. That’s the secret of sadhana.
I’m just ruined today. Nobody knows me under. I deal out cards of bright shiny poems. It’s just a reader’s poem with no readers. Bad material I guess, or awful writing. My room is a way station and a promise. I’ll hit the right note one day. Sadhana science, how do I show this to you? Where do I go to show this to you? It’s a concentration in your head you stay clean for. If I told you about the troubles. I still go to college. I got spirits in my head and they won’t go. [heard sung by The Strumbellas, “Spirits”] You know I’m hearin’ muse. This is a dictated poem. You’re all fired up.
Wanna say somethin’. It’s about the city of concentration. I think I’m learnin’ to keep the mind quiet not on external things, and that time is optimized for sadhana. These are the thoughts think about, and you go from there, put your own larger list together. What is infinity? What’s the nature of the universe? Does God care? What will lift my room? Do I get larger than time? Can I feel the feelings of another through brands of consciousness? What is the thought that stops thought? Am I showin’ you how to think? You’re up there where thought meets the sky, your husband. Do you hear that? We treasure this present moment our thought taking us skyward, and we are passive to that reach. You put the perspective on that. To those lonesome memories, you’re naked to the eternal now. Feel them that way.
Now we’ll repellant. Thought gets in the way. It’s not what you wanna do all the time. You want to be clear certain purpose. That’s a way of hold your mind no words or images. Smoking the cigarette of thought, chewing it out like a stick of gum, these are brands you wear. They spend and they disease. You don’t have to think. I’m learnin’ not to. It’s so much clearer in there. When I go to sleep I’m not a crybaby. Monster in those movies.
I handle sleep. I’m waking up on the hub of dreams. I try to retrieve them, or I’m writing a poem, and it continues. I spend my nights this way, in a wakeup mode going back to sleep. I get about six hours all told, seven on this night and that. My wakeup periods are long. Like I say I’m writing muse as the night bells ring, or I’m layin’ there where quiet meets my mind, pullin’ on the length of dream. That’s a sadhana sleep. It gets you in touch with the day. That’s been the content of the night, if you know how to read your dreams. Turn around and face tomorrow your dreams carry you too, and they show you yesterday to know what’s goin’ on. There’s just so much to dream, but it arms you for the day.
And now you’re ready to step out into the world a sadhana-go-round. Keep it simple, keep it clean, your honeydew in the world. Behaviors lead to sadhana, or they refuse it. You’re a sadhana keeper. Always remember that. It won’t go away. Like it can never reject you. I don’t care how reprobate you are, sadhana’s there for you. It will carry you through the storm. It will clean out your act. You’ll get better because of it. Just keep goin’. Let it fill your room. Don’t shy away from it because you think it’s judging you. It is always there to pick up. It understands your needs and will help you fill them properly. It’s the intention that counts, the attitude. Keeping your mind quiet on the divine, that’s your smelling salts. It’s how you save your life.
If you’re an ordinary sucker, you’ll have a harder time. You gotta get naked. You gotta take off all those clothes, get down to your primal need to fill your life with God. One episode of you are so filled, just one time and take this book with you for the rest of your life, and you will do sadhana, can’t help but to; it’s in your nature now.
Everybody wants to know the nature of progress. You love people, identify with everything. You’re not a grouch or a scrooge. You’re good to be with, not demanding or mean. You listen to people. It’s not all about you. I don’t think you make people feel uncomfortable, but you do challenge them by the obvious depth you live. You call to people, not with your eyes your shoes. That means you don’t mess with them. You tend to prefer quiet comin’ to the head, not hours and hours of music or all this environmental stimuli. You like nature, raw and clean. Walks accompany your day, walks through nature where you can find it. An animal can climb aboard. You’re a big bucket of love that knows how to pour itself.
This is what we know of love: rape and murder, and love’s right there with yah. No one took the sign off you need to be loved. All this spiritual growth sees that. You love everybody you come into contact with. You know what you love them for: love heals things, makes people better. I don’t think you can fake this very much. Spend some time with someone and see. Alright spiritual advanced person, let me count your love, not anything else. I wanna see yah love. I think the whole point of our spiritual shoes, we get to know love. A great big sadhana bring that out.
I’m a terrible husband— this is the spiritual call. I think sometimes it walks on your soul. I don’t know how to explain this to you. You’d think all would be right with the world. You’re torn asunder. You’re made to do things you don’t like. They gravity of the situation just eats you alive. You obey the call, like I’m doin’ now. You picked the wrong time to blast a hole in my shoes. I’m a servitor of divine will. I’m servin’ everybody not sinnin’, and here I am expose myself to your wrath. You’re not a noble person. I’ve seen what you do to people. You don’t love them atall. So my head’s on the chopping block the reality poem, and here I am giving you my bread for the umpteenth time. You’d think I’d had enough by now. Anyway here it is, a poem where you can do yourself and make the world ring, even if no one hears it, and they just think the worst of you.
They’re not snow that’s obvious. He seems to have a sadhana that doesn’t get any kickback in return. He doesn’t get validated except by his team. He is treated like everybody’s pariah. His sadhana circle listens to him, and others are few and far between. He’s a real human being. He got okay on the wheels/wings of his sadhana. [words spoken simultaneously] You have it now. Reader this is not brag or boast about. This is the path to divine consciousness and younger, and you’re gonna need a little younger. Open it.
A lot depends on the soul change. When you’re young, and you soul mother in hospital, we’re goin’ in some shockin’ of yours. Well he quoted us all trying to see her. You look like you losing what did you lose? The ability to stay awake in dream. You can’t do that, let’s tend silly here. It’s not your job to fight the Minotaur. That your job, trigger lucidity captain this ship. God dog does that look handsome! Some fancy’s got you hooked. You’re standing on the ability to move on dreams. Just get out of here. Take your consciousness and try it out. You can go up and in from there, up to the higher consciousness, in to the soul. Try it out. See how far you get. Obstacles determine pathway, and you see what’s limiting you. You really can get there from here.
Dream is a doorway where you get started to open the inner consciousness, and there your sadhana rides in its most visible form. You need this to survive. Burn out early if this is just all in your head. The inner consciousness will take you there to all the meanings you have missed, to your direction of travel, and you’ll see the divines involved with you and get into soul things. It’s your guidebook. It’s your lamp. Your teachers talk to you through there. It’s a daily dose of miracle, and it moves your sadhana along a fresh start everyday. This is the major element most sadhanas miss, and we’re callin’ on yours in league with the world. I’m sure you got questions. Begin.
Alright Donny there’s a truth to tell. You’re bein’ spying on inside. The thoughts get yah. Oh she’s memorable wearin’ them thoughts. All these thoughts on God culminate in that one. When the bough breaks, [heard sung, nursery rhyme] and you enter Silent Mind. These are the memories to feel now, the character of enlightenment, regardless of your pain inside, of the happenstance of chance, the resistance futile. Go for it baby.
Keep the light goin’. Don’t go to sleep. Don’t her give up on that sadhana. You have a world to change. Say the same here. We’ve got our heads out for miracles. That’s a world line. Can you show this to us sweetheart? I’ll be back in about five minutes.
I’ve got tools for you. I’m gonna use them first, grow up Nithish. It’s the army in the game, and I’m a former Green Beret sergeant to show them to yah. Not so hard on the kid, but he’s gonna lesson. There’s just too much soft flesh there video game mode. Cheerio.
This blog is not just to put my stuff on. My blog is clear your highway. Stop defending yourself. What? Skin spots are really easy to spot. You have to come over here so I can help you. One by one they ran away from my house. Can’t figure out. I had given you really good soul stuff. Her whole house was zoom zoom zoom, and you’ve got a literature there tomorrow to bring to temple. Come in.
You give healing meat its substance.
You’re way out there,
right in the slot of truth.
I don’t think anyone understands this.
You’re a miracle:
nobody’s touched you;
all the help you get.
You really show people somethin’.
Most people don’t know it’s there.
They’re too based in ordinary.
Okay we climb mountains,
keep goin’,
just press on.
We’re goin’ somewhere.
I hoped you a-l-w-a-y-s thought me u-g-l-y,
you thought me friend. [this and above line heard sung in the voice of Don Williams to tune of "You're My Best Friend"]
Our best teacher,
we’re talkin’ soul.
Ladies and gentlemen,
Think Oil.
You hear soldier.
Oh man you don’t stink.
You’re chasin’ a good one.
Okay you got the preamble.
I would like soul need determine time.
I want to talk on the level of soul.
Where do we bring this out?
Is it evident anywhere?
How do we talk about soul?
Do we meet it with the divine?
Where’s it goin’?
Where’s it come from?
How long it’s been?
Does it explain us?
What is about soul that makes its process?
Does it rule time?
Where can it be found?
Is it perfect?
Can we touch it?
How does it find us?
Is that all there is?
How do you add it to the program?
Can we say it’s substance?
How big is it?
Does it search us?
What are its parameters?
Can we get at it?
Is it Black,
or would all colors fit its lifestyle?
Is it here among us?
When does it die?
Is it our only project?
How did it get here?
How do we communicate with it?
Does it know us
as the thing that does?
Is it our true nature?
Is this soul a concept or a divine?
And we go round and round.
The soul asks more questions than it answers,
but we can look at it.
Can you?
It’s here.
I think it’s from another planet.
It’s put us on.
That planet’s another sphere,
the reality behind reality.
We are its goalkeepers.
We fumble ourselves all the time.
We don’t know how to do it,
take soul and measure up.
It’s the substantial reality behind us.
It’s put itself here.
I think that’s phenomenal existence.
The soul is a dome
phenomenal existence fits inside.
It was here first.
I don’t think we cant touch it with our hands.
It’s not the reality we see.
It’s got our backing.
Where do individual souls fall in?
Let’s say they’re here.
This is not pepper spray.
You can help put ‘im on
that things might get hurt.
This is the ballpark.
Hello soul—
this is an individual flavor of existence.
It’s got cans on it.
They go through time.
That’s the flavors it carries around.
It’s expressing your life.
See the flavors?
All these tunes
express our life to us.
So many layers to the soul.
It’s a great big getaway.
There’s nothin’ else to it;
it’s the ground of its own being.
It represents us in time,
and we are representative figures
of this thing called soul.
We express it everyday,
and our body is its leeway.
A deformity,
an ugliness,
awful, isn’t it?
You’ve needed that to get along.
If you look at the world as a container,
that doesn’t fit.
All things are expressive of soul,
even the ugliness.
The world touches you there
like it’s probing you.
Awful, isn’ it?
Keep going.
This expresses you,
the dynamics of this life.
You’re carrying that with you
for an example set.
You have to learn from this example.
It’s so pressing,
and it’s so physical.
I think everybody knows I love little boys.
How ugly is that?
I am one case where the focus
bounced off the movie.
Sure enough he was.
I came to souls in the room.
They were everywhere.
Try fucking a soul.
They don’t want you to do that.
You don’t abuse a soul.
You just don’t.
It’s the basis of reality.
It’s got bigger than life.
There’s no abuse possible.
Are you expressing soul when you abuse somebody?
You’ve stopped doing it
a soul becomes visible.
We are all relating souls.
They transcend time.
You cannot harm them.
Violation is impossible.
Life is a field for the soul to work out deities.
The human soul is not divine.
It’s something more fundamental.
It’s the substance of deity.
We don’t hinder it
as it brings deity to the human room.
It’s expressive of deity.
It helps us put that on.
That’s our purpose here.
Can you see the soul bringing up life?
This is the arisal of everything.
The substance of soul has a field to play.
It’s putting on itself
in ever increasing rooms.
I don’t think you can touch bottom
of the soul’s play.
Can you imagine infinities within infinities within infinities?
And here we are in our room.
So much accompanies us,
so much to do.
Where do we go with this?
Towards the substance of soul.
We layer ourselves.
What has made it to the surface
is a little play in time,
this little portion of us
we so mistakenly confuse with us.
It has all of us behind.
My God the soul,
it’s there in the room
the container of existence.
Jerrycans of abuse,
I was the orphanage.
That’s our predicament here.
We’re bastard children
a mommy and a daddy have left behind.
We can’t see our divine parents.
Divine origins allude us.
We only know we’re here
getting spanked by time,
clusterfucked.
We don’t know how to stop abusing one another.
We just don’t know how to help one another.
This is a horrible place.
It’s a prison house.
It just sucks us,
and time’s got its finger up our ass.
Dry, lifeless orgasms
is where life meets us.
We are probed.
I say again we are probed.
Our greatest joy can turn to pain
in the happenstance of death
everywhere surprises us.
We are dangerous keepers.
We can’t trust anyone.
Real amateurish
your whole monstrous tirade.
No, and I like it,
but I’m waking up.
The policy of monsters
we are bring to ourselves.
Are you really waking up?
Jeremiah 19:9 the most monstrous of all.
Do you know what?
The city didn’t rush in to defend you.
I’m curios to know why it didn’t.
You’re a monster.
They are making names
to make sense of their city.
It’s purple passion
not heart attack.
I had a hate here with wine.
This is the poison we all drink,
to be to ourselves our city is good.
Now are you ready for Christmas?
And here comes the soul.
That’s what keeps us together,
keeps us from falling apart.
It’s music you hear on the radio
when the world had just caved in,
and you know that song's talking to you
everything’s gonna be okay.
It’s that sudden smile you get
from some perfect stranger,
and it’s like a kiss from Heaven
because the rain has come.
It’s your mommy’s warm hands
washing your tender parts
not wanting anything for herself,
and you are seven or eight.
It’s an ice cream truck
comin’ round the corner,
and you have just enough for a cone.
It’s the great big beautiful sun
shining down on you
like you mean somethin’.
It’s the breeze
wiping the sweat off your face,
and you have just run.
It’s the lovely afternoon
your family sang,
and you will never forget those moments.
It’s your father’s satisfied hands,
and you’re his little boy in them
wanting so to be like papa.
I’ve embroidered soul
where life keeps you,
and it’s good.
This is the backup plan.
This is our special moment.
This can ride the day
if we lean forward
and let the soul lead.
It’s all about soul,
the house of life.
I’m afraid
the depths you have to go to find that
are deeper than the world.
You hear that
these are possible inner journeys.
You go inside,
consciously, thoroughly,
until you reach soul.
Did you know you can find it?
A conscious arm
you fall into it.
I think unconsciously we arrive there often,
else we would die I’m afraid
cut off from soul.
We have to come up for air.
This world is a heavy dress.
We take it off
in moments sublime of dreamless sleep.
I bet you didn’t know that noon.
In raw material sleep
we can find the drop off point of matter
and soul dream
larger than time.
We have journeyed to the soul.
It’s not a substance material make.
It’s the first substance of Spirit,
and it’s got no bookends to it.
A receptacle of our Spirit open and true,
that’s the phenomenon of soul.
This is the causeway.
This brings us to Ourself.
This brings us to the divine meeting in the room.
May come some horses
with some contrary will.
Yeah exactly.
What is adequate?
Is that adequate
in the fatal moment,
in the fatal heartbeat here?
Soul expressive of deity,
that’s meaning
that has us all by the horns.
Cans.
Go ahead drive her,
drive her over.
Pay attention to people.
You want a soul
happen so matter of fact.
Now let’s come back.
We have to put on soul.
If you sat regular times…
Bruno!
You always have to watch out for Bruno.
He’ll take your underwear off.
You have to do a preacher’s build.
You check in
and withdraw.
You look out,
and the watch ends
on visible things.
You have to come together on soul.
You have to see beyond life.
There,
it has your hand.
Let it lead you now.
You have to get somewhere in life.
The soul is your regard.
It will take you to deity.
It will remove all obstacles.
It’s your great ship.
It’s the navigator.
It comes to you in dreams
and exercises the world
tonight,
and you can see things clearly.
We help it along
by being ourselves.
That’s Alpha Zero,
enlightenment stark.
This is its great evolution path,
and we are fingers of its evolution.
We do not abandon us,
and we help each other clearly
when we come together on soul.
There’s where the abuse stops.
There’s where we know our promise,
for it is the soul that leads us.
The soul we are,
the substance of ourselves
leading ourselves.
I’ve called on you tonight
to be the witness of soul.
It is bigger than leeway.
It is so much bigger than time.
It’s us in the ground of us.
No gap, no divide,
prevents it from helping us.
It’s here.
It is only blindness separates us from it,
and check it out in a poem.
You know I’ve opened your eyes.
Should end right there,
I’ve told you violence.
I just turned and turned around and saw the soul.
Harm's End 