The Pupil and His Divine, a Harmony in Five Measures – 5

Sri Aurobindo and me

Flexibility’s Good Practice

[Although formatted to fit your screen, the poem was originally written in 2014. It’s in the form of a dialogue with multiple speakers: the poet, his divine, various people in the audience, including children, and even a hostile being. Paying attention to punctuation and listening to the poem read, the voices dramatized, play key roles in interpreting it.]

I see my result in the image of tomorrow,
sacrifices for these guys,
sacrifices for children made.
I see a little ahead of us now.
Oh my God,
an image I see,
the sound and the fury of a group called
a rigid belief system.
They deny my answer.
It gains ground instead.

Be useful with my hair.
That’s why I got an office.
Most of the new modem here is for this:
yoga transitions wrong.
It doesn’t recognize itself when the change occurs.
Yoga’s a half light,
an image to see.
It’s necessary.
Yoga at least fields the answer.
Union becomes possible.

A new light on yoga,
a new inspiration on yoga:
flexibility.
Can you come back in about fifteen minutes?
They ask my choice.
Your native place, your country?
American dream.
I hope for your sake as well
it lasts the dream.
Now, the politics has religion.
Doves, a page for arms spending.
It’s a powerful dove now.
I hold you open to everyone.
You don’t know the religion of the Spirit
Mr. Fundamentalist.

American box office,
you’ll allow it
a ten minute jury.
It’s open.
You want a letter hold it down.
Art has business
in imaging ideas.
A new idea
is what we’re looking for.

We’ve got an opening in pictures.
I superstorm that’s fine.
While we’re ahead,
let’s crack divinity’s TV.
It is an image in a notebook
that you write while you’re asleep.
It has what you need.

I’m awareness of God.
You can’t buy that in a bookstore,
nor paint it on a friend.
It’s a personal journey.
I’ll be going down
to the bare minimum.
From there I hope to image this story.
Tagging the program
in the front of my house.

Daddy?
What sweetheart?
Put your finger on us.
Ah ha, that touched my hand.
We’re neighbors you see.
Thought will
go public.

If I understand your meaning right
poetry thinker,
we are a collective body.
That’s our building process
yes.
We can image out thought a new reality.
We could do that
instead of who we hate.

Coconut in my big ouch here,
the rumors of war hate fashioned.
We create its dream,
annihilation.
These are primitive seekers,
but we must understand them.
They need to know they’re safe.
Their belief system is their protection
against immensity.

We hear them regard.
We guard our forefather’s knowledge.
We hope to gain by its creed what our forefathers lost,
the right way to live.
We are a ship at anchor in an empty port.
We image reality
by what we see.
There has no greater value
a living scene.
It is solid fact not symbol wrought,
and God in his heaven sits the same.

We image a pupil
who doesn’t listen.
I kinda knew that in the morning.
I stopped vision.
It was drowned by the world.
Hey man what happened?
If you don’t finish it tomorrow…
I put a poem where God lived in me.
The solid confines of matter’s image
can so easily
hide the Unseen from view.

Is there a land bridge here?
I’m happy to see one,
it’s my son,
my little girl.
If I could put their ship in the water on just the right course,
they’ll put together this image
and pilgrim our voyage.
It’s a hope for tomorrow for a future today.
These are my children.
I give them right of way.
I think we image our house here.
It’s got healing window
all our fans said.
I’m okay.
Don’t worry about me.
Just do your homework:
know what to believe.

I’m not surprised.
Here was fine.
We leave our souls numbered on.
This was a glad space in a bright heart,
charity’s donation.
Down there,
infinity held sway.

He organized his room.
What we put?
What we do?
He made soldiers on stacks of bibles
and passed them out to the world.
He cleaned the inside of things,
rejecting old business.
He heard his Stranger call
and wrote it down.
He aloned to himself,
coming into contact with his own world.
His speech betrayed not the things he saw.
He flashed a light of kindness in his arm’s reach.
It was a banquet now.

What did you catch one of those twenty-four hour things?
This was no question posed by the night.
You gathered a liver to your hero.
If it lasts,
it survives.
Your guarantee for the future.
Can we come in from the cold now?
Okay UK say okay.

His private door gave lesson.
This was no ordinary show.
Seventh Avenue,
they looked in on him,
but Sri Aurobindo figured the ticket
and granted this place:
you’re an overmental movement
you understand;
take it easy,
Supermind’s there
standing ground.
Higher than the moon
who put their soul?

He hoped in dream’s pocket.
It was a large measure.
His house they used him
and looked not within.
This was his point of friction with the world.
Constant assault the children were.
He had anger
that he could not hide.
We draw him before
that station-house settled.

Good work,
you have to play on it.
We opposite a six.
Is that good measure?
It’s the right issue today.
What I was tested’s the fact
(come daddy)
I can be a father,
whether or not it works.
What’s yoga?
You have to believe it works.
There,
I’ve said your damn lesson.
Now image reality,
a top of the head see.
Do you get my copycat?
Individually.

I’m not sitting next to wrong.
I’m sitting next to you.
Can we habitat this truth?
Man, this is our dwelling place.
It has to do with a song.
It only hits you,
you open your eyes.
The Spirit is alive in matter,
and the Spirit stays.
Matter is his habitat but not his standing ground.

Daddy, can I have a digital watch
that tells the time
eternally?
Here we pause for a word from our sponsor:
the world removes sickness
your body
will be an eternal image;
homeopathic made cure.

A substantiality review,
measure that in heartbeats.
May you grow bigger than yourself.

So many passengers,
they don’t want a heart strong.
It will have to be something that we do together.
Individuals prepare the field.
You’ll have a rough time sitting there
absorbed in your television set
three dimensional.
The hat’s
just a protection
from getting lost in the movie.
Crown chakra,
you gotta wear it.
Do I make myself clear or not?

Daddy?
Can I sleep in your bed tonight?
Okay.
Now do you believe me?
I will challenge you in the deepest part of your laugh.
Hello my associate
you don’t usually say.
Head bothering you?
I have said a window
opportunity set up.
You’re staring at the wall.
You’d have to see beyond it
to understand what I said.

Really?
It would mean
an integral yoga.
Even the masters
couldn’t gather these clothes.
They just never put ‘em on.
You’ll have to step out even,
emptiness said.
Catch my airplane winnebago?
The Spirit is free
in all this
stuff.

I had trouble with that one.
Fix your feet high.
That’s an asana everybody has trouble with.
Keep practicing.
Yoga will work.

Throw a leg over this movie:
moksha reborn
here in the world.
You’d have to catch the plane,
give it your understanding.
The body is carved by it in silence,
listening.
To be totally honest I walked to it
one box at a time.
It was the heart that provided the key.
Once it knew
it was on its way,
the change arrived.

Donny I,
listen to you.
So you don’t have to worry.
That was decent.
That was not about arguing.
Arguing,
it showed me something.
The mind, the heart, the body all integrated,
people solved.

Definitely another subject
(I don’t think so)
the soul is their point of order.
Fits right here.
We begin with an understanding
opening the top of the head
or the heart window
imaging soul.
They will solve each other
if we bring them together right.

I’d like to show you something.
We play music
one measure at a time.
This airs out the difficulty
integration brings.
I’m, I’m good,
unmolested.
This is a substantiality review.
Hear this music?
Boy hears it now.
The public awhile.
Execute this thing.
That’ll take it
off the ground.

We open our opera,
a whole like twenty-eight pages.
One crying.
What’s a matter sweetheart?
Daddy I don’t want to leave you.
We’ll have to have faith
the Mother said.
She’s the one holding it together,
our family arrangement.

I have these children.
Remove the cover.
What do you see?
You’re their daddy.
Touched it,
the front of it.
Funny,
that really appealed to me.
I lesson in longevity.
Where do you put your scorecard?
There’s really a house.
I want to print it out:
my children
are lessons in love.
You don’t want to mess with them.
I give you
clean house.

A story’s been told
infinity sings.
We nowhere near mirror
the calm flexibility that
we in our divinity will show,
as we stand transformed,
not just stuck on the rafters.

Where will this evolve?
It’s in our daily room,
where we spend our lives holding cares.
Is my rifle here?
What dense energy is that?
It’s what shoots answers,
will not let us see the way out.
Go ask people,
and they figure it out:
if we do get up there,
anything, anything at all,
I have to do it,
I’ve got to get my courage out.
I’m about the idea change.

A body without a beard,
without one iota of fashion together wrong,
if I’m rewriting I’m writing to version fad.
I’m shouting your opinion.
Think that rewrite’s bad?
Flexibility’s good practice.
We are so swayed by our opinions.
Well man,
your opinion,
no matter how sharpened,
might be more narrow than life.

Can you average that?
Bout time you come in.
It’s actually better
to let the truth unfold
instead of proclaiming it.
We evolve here.
You have my answer.
Now that’s actually what it is,
truth evolving.
You’re welcome.

I’m available
across the railroad tracks.
It’s where you see disease.
I’m not that far.
Look how close I am to you,
in your intimacy kitchen,
your bathing and sleeping with
your own concerns.
Where is the line crossed?
Stew there.
Now call for intimacy with me.

What makes you so mad?
I would ask for an associate’s degree.
How many times does justice hate?
Would it be that that hate’s carried over from someplace else,
a little road in you?
It’s not there whispers hate.
We’re not talking
out in the open –
subconscious.
You have ways to avoid that stuff.

What drew these lines?
Hear so many cross.
It’s not a perfect world for me anymore.
Doesn’t have to go.
Trying to tell a river.
We’d open
our eyes and see it.
Then what’s the story?
We can be clean.
I don’t think so.
It’s not that easy.
Oh come on,
top notch of this group,
who knows it?
But tell me,
did you name to the air conditioner five minutes,
just one time?

You make me worry.
Let’s guilt them and them.
Wow, you have society’s hold up here.
Cultural morality
do any justice?
By hidden cost:
we are not permitted to evolve.

Where does the dust settle?
I’m fighting your window,
and it doesn’t open.
Okay, this and with hate:
very shot behind.
Now touch those teeth together,
and we’ve spoken aloud.
I had to get my stuff out of the way
so you got yours.
Hey man this thing’s got director over me.
Could be a wonderful person.
You can change.
I’m tryin’ to get you off the ground.
It’s not better
if said person doesn’t come to see you again.
That touch blisters along.
Somebody
can help
like who would’ve thought it.
Come on, heart walk strong.
On your way too.

All from eyes
they’ll have knowledge back.
Give them muscle on clean,
what I give clean.
Lemmie get this straight:
wounding sword heals?
Over the end that’s burned.

Good morning,
in our little house
thoughtful matter.
Count how many times the Word gets used.
The average person is comin’ round.
That’s a New York
giving a better New York.
That’s your higher count.

I’ve given you right music,
the corrected story.
It leads up to American
(oh I got here),
the American dream.
Find that equipped
once we get electricity.
We’d save the energy
where our body’s the worst fade:
each other.

Simple:
we evolve.
Not in here
some rafter said.
Before we close the door
to bodily existence,
we would have made divine matter’s robe.
We would be together by the way.
Think about it.
Evolution, remember?

Decide to get to home plate –
to move and get the temple.
Why are you there?
It can be held again.
It can be found.

I found my soul.
Boys safe –
I feel sorrow.
Get your wrong TV tuned folks –
get God on your plate.
I’m tryin’ to slide you an angle on the classical guitar,
once it got posted,
the body’s freedom.
I’m measuring an ambush this morning –
I’m listening.

You can’t do it marshal,
shoot me in front of God and everybody.
(Make sure Nancy’s resistance is in the place that she wants;
she may resist letting go.)
Related visions,
I keep reading the title of our narrative.
But Bob misses,
play hide and seek.
That’s a camera
charged with think tank.

Eat eggs,
follow the list of the dawn.
Now that you’ve come up with,
you’re the unbelievable:
against evolution.
Albert Einstein the very next day is pointed out as saying:
a special case with special officers,
they couldn’t track it down,
a locked up.
I rank in it,
well self-giving lists.
The world is watching.
Splash!
A pedophile
makes its sense.

Transformation

This is another song my soul wrote. Below are the lyrics. It came via the muse, inner voice and vision, over a period of months, usually around dawn one or two sung lines at a time, accompanied by at least the guitar but often with a whole band or orchestra, but not every day and not only at dawn. Often lines are in the voice of a particular famous singer or band, but just as often they’re in my own faulty voice. Sometimes weeks went by without anything for the song, although lines are sung to me in my muse almost daily. I have to center a song and only choose lines that fit. It’s not a cut and dried process, most especially the melody, which, like in this song, evolved over the time it was completed. Characteristic of the multifaceted nature of the inner voice, these lines were not only for the song but were also what I needed to hear and muse over the day they came, things my soul had said, which matched the needs of my sadhana. May the song help you with yours.

Transformation

(Hear the song here: https://soundcloud.com/donny-lee-duke/transformation)

Adam used to tell his name unto his soul.
Suddenly transformation.
Bid yourself in your mirror.
There are you who you are.

And I know, and I know, and I know
it’ll be my soul.

I am just so tired of crowding around.
Not a single access program of watching process rise.
Feeling sorry for myself living without you
process rise.

And I know, and I know, and I know
it’ll be my soul.

Getting wrapped by you.
Getting wrapped by you.
I find my religion is all is waking up.
Just strokes and takes my pressures.
Cause I’m livin’ down connected to the world.

And I know, and I know, and I know
it’ll be my soul.

Upon the stone of fortune’s wrath
I live and die a fattened calf.
Here is everybody show ‘em what you’re made of.

And I know, and I know, and I know
it’ll be my soul.

Every second every hour of the day,
Every second every hour of the day,
Every second every hour of the day,
it’s beautiful.
You see touch my soul.
How can I help you do the same?
And I know
I can feeling in your soul.

And I know it’ll be my soul,
transformation, transformation,
on the conscious world, on the conscious world.
And I know it’ll be my soul,
transformation, transformation.
And I know, and I know, and I know
it’ll be my soul.

Introduction to Soul Power

Me walking the dogs, image credit: Dhina
by Donny Duke

Posting this song around the net takes a great leap of faith. (You can find the link to it at the bottom of this article.) The world has become explosively reactionary, due in large part to the Internet. It’s put a microscope on us, shows us stuff about us that’s always been there but that we just haven’t seen so pronounced and in our face, ugly and dirty things, and, self-righteous and hypocrites that we are, we weren’t ready for the vision. Who can show this to us? If you think about it, there’s no better person than the kind of person most react to, explode upon, once they’ve been unjustly lynched in the net of public opinion and reason comes onto the scene. The person, however, has to show their soul, and that’s just what I aim to do.

The soul is as misunderstood a concept as God, used to mean a variety of things. While it’s been talked about in both religion and the arts for thousands of years, I’d argue true knowledge of it has not yet entered the public mind. We know of enlightenment, but we don’t generally know of the soul change, that our soul not only influences us from within, turns us towards God, more and more as we allow it, but it can also surface and replace the ego once we are in the emptiness of enlightenment liberated from ego. My use of the term comes from my own experience informed by the teachings and inner guidance of the Mother and Sri Aurobindo. Since my aim here is not to introduce the soul but its power, I won’t elaborate on what the soul is, as my teachers and I see it, or its evolution for that matter, though in a future article I may do so, one I’m planning to write about the finding of the soul.

I would imagine the soul’s purpose is more varied than the universe, and as it evolves, or its evolving aspect the psychic being I should say, the dynamic personality of the soul, it wouldn’t necessarily take on some aspect of the world to help set right, some world problem to help solve, but as my psychic being has reached the place of maturity where it’s free to choose its comings and goings[i], it has donned the scapegoat process. I should stress here I’m speaking of my soul and not Donny, and while it would stand to reason that Donny too should be as developed as his soul, soul process is irrational, oftentimes runs contrary to our reason, is free to don a very fucked up outer personality for some purpose the likes of which you see playing out here: Donny coming online, or getting in line with his soul I should say, in order to help with the huge obstacle in our collective evolution, the making and maintaining of scapegoats, and as well help remove an equally huge obstacle, the abuse of children. The song I’m introducing holds this double purpose, sings the removal of both obstacles simultaneously, what can only be done by the seeing of the soul, not by a blind one-sided world power making the pedophile the seemingly foolproof universal scapegoat.

While the word scapegoat and its use is cliché, and today we seem more comfortable with the less defining phrase the ‘other’, the making and persecution of scapegoats is still the big hold up in realizing a viable human unity, what we’d need to achieve if we’re going to make it on this crowded planet. Put simply, a ‘humanity’ scapegoat is a group of people who are what they are by nature, not by choice, not speaking of quirks in the nature, but things fundamental like race or sexuality, whether they like or want to be that or not, speaking of sexuality, people who we don’t have to treat as fellow human beings with the same rights as everyone else, people we can vent on, who it’s generally socially acceptable to bear ill will towards, to hate, people on whom we project human evil so we don’t see it in ourselves, people we blame for the problems in our world so we ourselves can feel free of responsibility for those problems.

Though it may not be readily apparent, the scapegoat is as much a part of life in ego consciousness as the alpha male or female, what can almost be called a need of the ego and its maintenance, a need of the animal we are evolving out of I might say, equating here ego identity with animal identity. The scapegoat’s scope and purpose is quite visibly illustrated in the book and film 1984, and I’d argue 1984 is not only showing a frightening future to try to avoid, but at the same time doing what creative expression often does so closely aligned as it is with dream, albeit largely unconsciously. It’s showing the present social conditions of the writer in an exaggerated and larger than life form. What in 1984 people go to an auditorium to do, vent their penned up hatred and frustration on the scapegoat as he’s flashed across a screen, so they don’t turn that on the system, we do in the auditorium of our hearts and minds. It’s like the book and film is showing us what we do on the inside, using the outer symbol of an auditorium, even if such wasn’t intended by the creators, since, in any genuine creative expression, something of the representative nature of our world comes into play, and we see a little behind things, see much more than the human creator envisioned.

My psychic being became a conscious soul two lifetimes ago. It had donned the life of a black man in the South (of the U.S.) just before the turn of the 20th century, a person who “could play the guitar just like a-ringing a bell.”[ii] He played with his soul, that is, his soul was involved in his music to the point you could hear its qualities, as it was reaching adulthood. The scapegoat of his day, African-American, he was killed by the KKK, for playing his guitar in white establishments, and because he was on the edge of fame. I re-experienced the last day of his life in one of those dreams that last much longer than the time it takes to dream it and one where it was as though I was here in the world, not in dream, as there was no shifting of either the material in the dream or its field until the very end. It was as though I actually re-experienced the last day of his life. I was lucid but inside him experiencing both myself and he, aware of my thoughts and feelings and his thoughts, feelings, and bodily sensations, except at the very moment of his death, when the flames reached him as his home burned down,  his wife and children screaming as they were burned alive, when I became the fly on the wall observer outside of him. There was no need to feel the whole brunt of that moment a second time.

In my last life I was a Jewish man in Nazi Germany, the scapegoat of his time and place, of historic proportions, as African Americans were in the Old South. Though it was also a dream that showed me this, or the defining moment I saw it was in a dream, a very recent one, I’ve dreamed all my life of having a Jewish identity, inexplicably, since neither my mother nor father are Jewish, as I had dreamed of that black man in various stages of his life throughout this life, and I am neither black nor mulatto, although he wasn’t a guitar picker until that defining dream but someone of great talent or intellect, like an artist, a scientist, a university professor, and so forth. The remembrance of past lives is like that. It comes not as some instant revelation, although the defining moment is pretty revealing and may come as somewhat a surprise, but as an essential piece of your personal puzzle falling into place, fitting essentially into your process.

It’s not details such as names, addresses, and the like you remember, or it hasn’t been with me, and nor is it in the teachings of the Mother and Sri Aurobindo (I can’t tell you the name of the guitar picker or even what state he lived in, despite such a revealing dream about him, as those details disappeared upon awakening), but moments when the soul comes to the surface or very near, like the last day of the guitar picker’s life.[iii] I should also say these two recent lives are the only ones I remember, and my memory of them comes as a necessity of my present life, to do the work my soul has set before me. To truly remember your past lives, “one must become a wholly conscious being, conscious in all its parts, totally united with one’s divine origin.”[iv]

With the Jewish man the defining dream was full of all the shifts and strangeness of dream material, where he was part of a small group of Jews being hidden by farmers in the countryside, the railroad tracks leading to the death camps a central feature of the dream, that threat and utter despair over the whole situation taking him to rock bottom. The dream revolved around a soul moment when he had a momentary experience of liberation from ego, enlightenment. It’s not only sadhana that can take us there; sorrow can too if it hits the right note, a soul note.

In the dream there were a score of others who experienced the same, and I feel that represents an unknown aspect of the holocaust: out of the millions who suffered the horror there were those whose soul was reaching maturity, and they experienced the spiritual liberation or a flash of it. You might imagine some marched into death triumphant. Neither the Nazis nor any hate group has any control over the soul. You might also imagine that, in a representative world, nothing and no one can touch the soul, it being the reality in it and behind it, all else mere symbol and representation, the will-o-wisp of dream really, even Nazis.

Such definitive soul contact did not arise automatically. In this my present life, soon after reaching maturity as man, when I was around 30 years old, I made the inner journey to my center, the well of soul, connecting my surface conscious with it. It’s a lengthy story I won’t relate here other than to say that I’d opened the inner consciousness, was not only lucid in dream very often but also learning to try and remain conscious as I fell asleep and during a full period of sleep, all the way through a night’s dreaming, and it was in dreamless sleep I found my soul, “on a remote extremity of sleep,”[v] but it was a journey in stages, over the course of several days, a journey I made one time, a journey that had me face my greatest fears and overcome my strongest attachments. You might imagine that to find the soul is actually to find it inside you, and that, while a strong belief in it or feeling of it can bring or indicate contact with it, you won’t have the definitive concrete contact until you go to the deepest most remote place inside you and find it.

“Turn Around Soul”, the song I’m introducing, was shown I feel in the dream of the guitar picker, specifically in the dream short that came at the end of the dream, a dream short something that comes often at the end of a powerful dream that’s a basic summation of the dream, a symbolic representation of it, so different from the dream itself as to seem another dream, but there is no interval between it and the dream it’s symbolizing. If this song does get heard by my society then it is what that dream short was showing: being heard. I was watching a man with a guitar on a high ridge overlooking a large valley below. He was both black and white, not mulatto but actually a black man and a white man at the same time, an impossibility dream can do. There were lay lines along the ridge, and he was trying to hook his guitar into one so to be heard in the valley below. He made some unsuccessful attempts until he was finally able to hook into the one closest to  him, which made his acoustic guitar electric, and it was like he was inventing the electric guitar by hooking into that lay line. When he connected, his guitar music resounded throughout the whole valley, and it was more than sound I heard. I heard reality resound, a common feature of powerful dream, it ending with a sound, simply a large ‘crack’ in some cases, that you feel in your very soul.

I doubt most will believe that the soul can do what I show it doing here, write an entire song. While many believe in the soul, few know that it’s capable of healing us, as individuals and as a society. We not only have an immune system to heal our bodies; we have one also to heal our hearts and minds, to set right what’s messed up about us. It’s this innate and largely unknown immune system I want to show with my song, a system of soul more powerful than any world system, what sets worlds right.

The lyrics were sung to me over a period of months, via inner voice and vision. First came the two lines that form the backbone of the song, “Hold on tight. Turn around slowly.” It was sung by a female singing group complete with musical accompaniment and had a pop sound to it. Knowing there was no way I could manifest it into outer reality with my not so great voice and guitar skills, I nonetheless focused on it so that a full song would come, something I’ve learned to do with voice and vision over a period of some 15 years. With this song, unlike my others written from inner vision, I accepted only lyrics that I knew were from my soul, not from anywhere else, not even from the divine. Years of soul contact has enabled me to distinguish its voice from any other, knowing also that it often sings when it does speak to me.

After the initial lines, more came but very slowly, one or two lines a day (and not every day) that not only fit into the song but were also what I needed to hear that day, what I needed to see. Soon I had a skeleton of a song but didn’t even know what it was about. By the time I knew it was about what it’s about it was too late to turn back, and I couldn’t deny I needed to sing it and my society needed to hear it. I must say this is embarrassing for me, or for the ego I should say, and singing so openly about being a pedophile in today’s society is not what I want to do, why no doubt my soul kind of snuck it up on me, knowing I’d not have completed it if I had know what it was about from the first.

Then came some months of the song being filled in, one or two lines a day, with many, many corrections to the lyrics, all of which were sung to me, now in my voice and guitar, and in a couple of instances, where I was having a hard time, even my hands were shown playing the guitar in vision so I’d know the right cords and right way to sing it. I still haven’t gotten it all right, very far from it, but this is the best I can do with the talent I have. It would be appropriate to mention here that my family, especially Douglas, my psychic being partner, a life partnership other than romantic/sexual not yet generally known to be possible, had a lot to do with the development of the music. He and my family kept it from getting out of  hand,  making sure it matched my so-so voice and guitar skills, else I would sound like an out of tune hillbilly.

It’s a contemporary folk song, a person and their guitar singing about their society and their between a rock and a hard place position in it. You have to engage with the lyrics to appreciate it, which are largely symbolic, poetic even, and it’s not so much meant to stir the emotions as much as it’s meant to stir the soul. No doubt it’ll make a lot of people mad as hell. That’s not my intention, and if it makes you angry, figure out what it’s saying and then see what you got. It goes from the general to the specific, each verse getting more specific, taking you on a soul journey. So what you’ve got is a soul, and by showing you mine, I hope you hear yours. At the very least, you should be introduced to the soul’s power.

Please click here to hear the song.

Turn Around Soul

1)
I’m sittin’ here on the bottom baby,
hold down tight,
standing all over town.
That would be
on the stairway.
I’m well armed.
I can’t believe he’s out there.
To keep them in line.
It’s huge practice huge practice.
Find it on the news.
Closed weapons by the rest of the world.
What a cost to our humanity.
Run around soul. 2x’s
How high we step there
and turn them in line.
God sent me to my soul, 2x’s
in a straight line.
Make you soul know you go,
hold south you fix.
Oh wave your fingers are you gone?
How should I change? 2x’s
Make a new world. 2x’s 

(Chorus):

Hold on tight,
turn around slowly today.
Inside out,
turn around slowly today.
Hold on tight
turn around slowly
in vision
will today
turn around soul. 2x’s
Hold on today. 2x’s

2)
To be somethin’ different
So keep it from runnin’.
To be somethin’ different
that warrant is for your arrest
on the 7 seas.
Take the best metro back there.
Walk heel in line. 2x’s
And that weakness was no longer
on the 7 seas.
The spirit was to find peace.
Entire soul. 2x’s
I can’t believe he’s out there.
To keep them in line.
One realize.
I promise I promise.
Come and speak,
cause I’m livin’ in a world that’s new,
vision of a world that’s true.
I saw the planet.
I am one another. 2x

 (Chorus)

3)
Find them and expose them
shows no solid arm.
Truth will be an attitude.
You have to live there.
I’ve seen him upside down.
I’ve seen him to my soul.
I am warm and I am cold
like the light of the world.
I’ll grow up
in the wild frame.
You hear Houston
name names.
My hand’s in the system
cause I’m livin’ in a world that’s new,
inner in the world that’s true,
when nature comes together,
from our door 2x’s
open.
What about soul? 2x’s
You can springtime
oh, oh, oh, oh,
above the world,
thunder like we’ll make together.
It’s a surrounding world. 2x’s 

(Chorus)

4)
Con you’re out there
problem in line.
You’ll have to see
how much we step there
over the years.
What in the a dark city?
Hold on out there.
With my hidin’,
with my terrorizin’,
In that flaming member you can’t decide.
The answer,
oh, oh, oh,
words of sound and murder came from his incantation.
What it cost to worlds.
What a cost to our humanity.
Run around soul. 2x’s
Dark science
turn of the century
pedophile. 2x’s 

(Chorus)

5)
Lacking in the system,
in the whole human race.
And there’s another thing
I didn’t question
in America,
when America.
Here’s something under there.
Don’t see my mind
and show of peace. 2x’s
You see what he means.
Allow this arm.
I’m well armed.
This could be real.
That was the most soul
word I ever heard,
a conscious soul. 2x’s
Oh the inner kingdom.
Of I’ve been born.
I’m the nineteen.
I’m your friend.
I’m the only romancing need
goin’ in the wind.
As long as it takes
if you mean work on one’s center.
Callin’ me today.
Please don’t put yourself in harm’s way.
Master and able it’s possible.
To believe. 2x’s
This is the melody.
Pledge the long road,
here in the top
in ‘bove the house. 2x’s 

(Chorus)

(addition to chorus, excluding last line “Hold on today”)
Turn around love,
yield today,
turn around love.
turn around soul,
entire soul.
It could be real,
a conscious soul.
I can have no beginning.
I can be soul.
What about soul,
run around soul? 2x’s this and above line
Turn around soul. 2x’s
It won’t be long. 2x’s

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[i] “The time [on the other side] depends also on the development and on a certain rhythm of the being – for some there is practically immediate rebirth, for others it takes longer, for some it may take centuries; but here, again, once the psychic being is sufficiently developed, it is free to choose its own rhythm and its own intervals.” Letters On Yoga, Volume 1, page 444, by Sri Aurobindo, Sri Aurobindo Ashram Press.

[ii] Lyrics from the song “Johnny B. Goode” by Chuck Berry.

[iii] “But this memory is not a thing of the mental kind. Those who claim to have been such a baron of the Middle Ages or such a person who lived at such a place and such a time, are fanciful, they are simply victims of their own mental imagination. In fact, what remains of past lives are not beautiful pictures in which you appear as a mighty lord in a castle or a victorious general at the head of an army--that is only romance. What remains is the memory of those instants when the psychic being emerged from the depths of your being and revealed itself to you--that is to say, the memory of those instants when you were wholly conscious. That growth of consciousness is progressively effectuated in the course of evolution, and the memory of past lives is generally limited to the critical moments of evolution, to the decisive turns that marked the progress of your consciousness.” From: The Writings of the Mother, Memory of Past Lives, 1958, Sri Aurobindo Ashram Trust.

[iv] Ibid.

[v] Savitri, Book VII, Canto III, by Sri Aurobindo, Sri Aurobindo Press