Tag: the integral yoga

The Mother Waits

On By Donny Lee DukeIn ego activism, PoetryLeave a comment
photo by the author
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.

A Mixin’ on the Cosmic Two Yard Line

On By Donny Lee DukeIn ego activism, overhead poetry, seer poetryLeave a comment
photos by Donny, gimped by him

A poem by Donny Lee Duke

Alright let’s look at yah.
Amazing tornado,
it fixes the Yoga
right along its seams.
He reveals the Yoga.

No one’s ever done this before.
Wow, enlightenment.
It’s not possible to ignore ‘im.
He is delivery man.
This upsets the applecart.
Do you admire this or tear it apart?

A nice, safe and comfortable high five.
They’re just startled.
You manifest.
It’s beyond their pale.
If she has it she gives it to yah,
American house maker’s exchange.
You know what?
Put the dog in here.
Nitish bring them all.

Heat—The Inevitable Word
look where he’s wired.
We found him.
He’s in the city.
He’s around the ashram program,
an independent speaker of Sri Aurobindo.

Take him down.
We’re sure this is not the Word.
Who made frogs talk to him?
I was not prepared for the length of his contribution.
I can’t believe it;
he’s put so much out there.

My God the Word.
This is what it looks like.
Where do we put him?
Just leave ‘im alone.
A revolutionary speaker,
a speaking prophet,
are you kidding?
That’s for us.
It’s instant thrown away.

Down, down, down, up/down/up, down/up/down.
Down, down, down, up/down/up, down/up/down. [Heard this strum for the guitar]
I’ve write a song for you.
I collaborated you see,
from the bottom of my heart.
From there to the world,
from my touch with the world.
Even indicate a Spirit itself,
the whole planet.
I can’t see it—
an audience speaker.
It’s so close.

Consciousness saving devices
led by Sri Aurobindo.
I drew up the Alamo.
Drew up by popular mechanic.
I will besiege their house.
I will besiege the Alamo.

The divine comedy of Snob Owens
received poems.
You’re composed too much to be mood.
Your life is mood.
Don’t you know you are a shooting star?
There are other universes, other universes, other universes.
Across the universe across the Self.

What?
Every accomplishment will be made little of.
Is that where I piss?
They don’t understand.
No one understands.
You’re gettin’ a medal for bravery.
I’ve been calling this for years.
All you have to work on is the technique.
I give you the words
I give you the song
Mr. Inner Ear.

Talk and oneness are the same.
I do believe I’ve said my piece.
61 minutes
it’s on the way.
All these poems
the way you bring “Above National Commitments” out into the public?
Hear the radio.
It’s comin’.
Put your hat on boys it’s comin’—
right on the two yard line.

The Iconoclast (Message to Auroville)

On By Donny Lee DukeIn applied nonduality, childhood education, ego activism, overhead music, overhead poetryLeave a comment 
Message to Auroville
I have something to show you.
Are you ripe for revolution?
Will I call Satprem's letter?
I will deduce the situation.
You haven't seen it yet.
You're not even looking at it.
You don't know there's a crisis:
will Auroville become or will it not?
All the Aurovillians will still be here
even if Auroville never becomes.
What does that mean?
Aurovillbe became a way-city
for India's population.
Do you see the writing on the wall?
How do I get this across?
I'd tell you in a poem.
It's "Above National Commitments".
It's time-consuming.
Here's somethin',
a product
of human unity at its corners,
and we rush in with "The Iconoclast".
Kind of makes you book smart, don't it?
You've read the Mother.
You've read Sri Aurobindo.
I give it the world,
apply those principles to life,
the number one vacancy.
Oh wow they fit here.
That brings us out into the open.
Is that big enough for you?




A poem by Donny Lee Duke

photo by Mithun
photo by Mithun
photo by Douglas

photo by Douglas

photo by Mithun

photo by Douglas

photos, videos, and music not attributed are by Donny, an all photos and videos except #16 and #17 were shot with a Vivo X60 Pro

The Iconoclast
She wants him.
She has to be insistent.
The project:
dinner serve you and you,
overcome
mortal.
We’ll see ‘im.
Daddy-O,
what is it?
[both above lines heard in Nitish’s voice]
Why do we maintain the system?
It’s everywhere.
You’ve got the title.
Somebody gave me the phone.
Wow, I swung the axe blade.
This is there.
[above line heard sung, my voice, from “The Freedom”]

Society
[vision of clicking my mouse on that word]
figures wrong.
A wolf in the henhouse
you put a pedophile around a child.
Chop it to pieces
divine vision on the subject.

Where do you put the Integral Yoga?
Where it works
a process of integration.
How would Nature handle this?
There are no artificial barriers
between people.
So what’s the story,
is that society’s truest moment,
whoever’s attracted to children cannot be around them?

Where does that bring us?
That kid’s gonna get molested.
It’s the nature of the program.
No subject’s been studied in school,
no desire’s been dealt with,
the child’s or the adult’s.
They’ve just been stuffed.
You’d have just no between them.
Where has this taken us?
And I’ll tell you again:
the number of children getting molested far exceed reported numbers.
Am I gettin’ through?

Where will a process of integration bring us?
We have to work this thing out.
The Mother has taken a pedophile
and done just that.
That’s what you’ve refused,
the issue of this in mankind
the Mother putting in the right place:
that pedophile doesn’t have sex with children.
They bring him around to himself,
and he is to them what they need,
and no one else on this Earth
can attend a kid like him.

You think I’m changin’ subjects.
Nitish is here beside me
among the dogs in bed.
He’s been caressed and brushed aside
to make room for the afternoon poem—
well not completely.
One whole side of me
thrills with his touch.
He’s cellphoning the world away,
and I keep him focused on us just enough
to write his own poems one day.

Now this is not out of my control.
It’s where you want me
if you knew how far this brings you:
human unity’s in the room.

Tried to send me away.
I can assure you
I’m not going anywhere.
You’re got more of an investment here.
Don’t do anything rash.
Have a meaningful experience.
I’ve got a season by now,
numbers enough to fill you up.
Now, how do you know
the right influence?
For the people on the whaling run,
fire and snow.
[both above lines heard sung, my voice, from “Ticket to Eureka”]
Now we can bring pink tablet.

The pink tablet was made for each other.
This is who the relationship stands on.
A psychic being circle,
a street open on the inside explained.
[vision of Nitish in the computer chair on the far left in the picture,
dogs present]

They know each other.
They know each other’s safety.
They know how to handle each other.
They can skip the small parts.
They are into each other’s tongues.

The boy is a talking diamond.
He really gets into speech,
from games to God,
to his hopes and fears and dreams.
They study one another.
They are on each other’s table,
with dogs to mitigate the life force.

It’s all on the table,
the world and God,
the whole universe of sound.
Are demons all on us?
Can you tell me again about the Supreme?
What does a God have to do with it?
I’m counting Supermind
because you said that’s where we’re goin’.
Am I gonna die?
I’ve been so afraid of death
and the end of the world.

You have no idea the cradle that boy has.
It’s all aglow.
We see its brightness.
How do you end it?
That boy grows up.
You wouldn’t kill the kid now
because this is a fitting
you’re not prepared to see.

What is a poet’s mouth?
A diamond in your community.
I’m giving him this smile.
Because it’s unfamiliar to you
don’t think I’ve lost the plot.
I’m a science of a listening ear,
holding down sleep so I can write it down.
What a production this is.
What intricacies of skill.
I’m a craftsman,
my apprentice this little boy,
and he will grow into that.
Destroy him, will yah?

Take the challenge of worth.
Are we really so strange to you?
Are we really that weird?
We are the battlement
of the new human being,
and we’ve been around a long time,
as long as there’ve been pairs in humanity.
You hear that?
We’re normal.
The psychic being is there to keep it clean.

Do you have psychic contact,
or are you just judgmental and sorry?
The psychic being,
do you feel it in here?
And he’s a little drummer boy,
an intimacy of God to behold.
Come,
partake our fruits.
It’s got the sorcery of God.
We’ll show you the world anew.

Talk to her nicely.
Give her more than getting.
I know you won’t believe her.
You’re stuck in worldviews.
Something has passed before your eyes today
that has the world heal on it.
Are you just gonna sit there and say no?

I don’t think the world will come between us.
We’ve got so much going for us/to show for it.
[phrases spoken simultaneously]
We’re good in the pan.
We mark trees with windows
and don’t tarnish them.
We’re alive on time.
Long live the king,
the new boy in town.
That’s Nitish.

A rose She’s giving me,
a new appointment.
That’s my rose.
That’s my wonderful little boy.
That’s my summer rain.
I will make crafts and cookies.
Oh wonderful
I just can’t wait
wouldn’t you say?

The Killer Find

On By Donny Lee DukeIn Inner Voice and Vision, overhead poetry, Poetry, soul healing, spirituality, spoken word poetry, the integral yoga, the Mother and Sri Aurobindo, the psychic being, the soulLeave a comment

The Killer Find

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 

Mahakali On The Wall

On By Douglas M.In spirituality, sri aurobindoLeave a comment

Recently here at Harm’s End we were able to finally do something we’ve wanted to do for a while which is upgrade our satsung room with some dark blue carpet and a fresh coat of white paint on the walls. We also got some nice meditation cushions, and the final touch was some nice pictures of the Mother and Sri Aurobindo to hang on the walls.

To get the pictures Donny and I went to a place in town called Harpagon Workshop, which is a department of the Sri Aurobindo Ashram, and which has a very large photo gallery with thousands of pictures of Sri Aurobindo and the Mother of all different sizes. In addition to shopping for the satsung room, I was also on the lookout for one more picture for my room, one that would be directly across from me as I’m sitting in my chair. Shortly after we arrived at the gallery one picture really popped out at me of the Mother standing at the top of a staircase. I was drawn strongly to the picture, and thought it would be good one for my room.

Later on, as Donny and I were admiring the picture newly hung on my wall, he told me that this particular photo was the first image he ever saw of the Mother. It had been on the cover of a book called The Sunlit Path, which is a compilation of the Mother’s writings. I was also already familiar with the photo as well as that book, but Donny told me something I didn’t know about it, and that was that it was taken on the Kali Puja day when the Mother came down the stairs, and then gave blessings to all the ashramites. I found that very interesting since I had drawn the card that represents Mahakali1 that day from The Eternity Game, and I took it as confirmation that this indeed was the photo that was needed for my room. I also thought this could herald more involvement from that particular aspect of the Divine Shakti in my sadhana which is good news since the name of that card in The Eternity Game is ‘Power’ and its aspects are ‘Transformation’, ‘Rapidity’ and ‘Height.’ In the description of the card Medhananda states that:

Her way is a rapid transformation by the sudden and immediately effective removal of all obstacles opposing her divine will.2

For that to happen though:

she insists that we take our seat on the highest heights of our consciousness; only then can she shatter our limitations and smallness. Only when our aspiration mounts like a flame will she remove the enemies from our path.3

So getting Mahakali’s help isn’t easy, but maybe I’m nearing the point where that sort of decisive and irrevocable help is possible. I hope so. I did have one experience of Mahakali’s help a year or so ago on a day when I was caught up in a strong movement of anxiety. I had drawn the Mahakali card for that day and remembering that prompted me to call on her for help. It wasn’t instantaneous, but shortly after that the anxiety quickly lifted leaving me feeling peaceful. That wasn’t the end of my trouble with anxiety, but it showed me the possibility of Mahakali’s intervention.

It bears mentioning as an endnote to this post that after these events occurred I saw they would make a good article showing synchronicity, and had been planning to write it over the coming weekend. On Saturday I also drew the Mahakali card, which prompted me to follow through on writing the article, and I also took it as a sign that writing it was timely and fit with my process.

Notes and References

  1. Mahakali is one of the four aspects of the Divine Mother referred to by both Sri Aurobindo and the Mother in their writings and talks.
  2. Medhananda, The Eternity Game, pg 53
  3. Ibid