The Ground Up

Cleaning the gold petals of the Matrimandir; image source

That’s just yellow journalism,
and that’s just proving misinformation,
and that’s The New Yorker.

In the July 12 & 19, 2021 issue of  The New Yorker, under their category Books, there’s an article entitled “Beyond Belief”, by Zoë Heller. It has the title “What Makes a Cult a Cult” in their online version.[i] Although it does review a number of books, it’s more a feature article than a book review, and so, right off the bat, there are things about it confusing, things seen, what this blog post is about. The New Yorker probably has more cultural clout, nationally and internationally, than any other magazine published in the United States. It has gained its reputation through almost a hundred years of publishing quality content. It’s known for rigorous fact checking and copy editing, the two items that concern us here because I’m going to show that the article in question is filled with misinformation in regards to its discussion of Auroville, its founder, and the yoga she co-created, and you’d wonder why The New Yorker didn’t catch that.

Let’s start with the cover image for the article, below.

Illustration by Christiana Couceiro; Source photographs Corbis/Getty

I’ve emailed the creator of the image, Cristiana Couceiro, and if she responds after I post this, I’ll include it in the endnotes. I’ve asked her who commissioned it, The New Yorker or the author, and what were her instructions or guidelines in making this composite image, since she didn’t just make it like this out of the blue. It’s designed for effect. And since it’s the lead image for the article, a manipulated photo of the Matrimandir, which is a spherical meditation hall several stories tall in the very center of Auroville, India, what the author calls the Mother’s Temple (to achieve an effect, to misinform), it would seem the author is trying to label Auroville a cult— after all, this is an article about cults—, but actually something more subtle, but equally misinformed, is the author’s aim.

The image is for the American mind, and it’s obvious propaganda. The spaced-out or stoned hippies worshipping whatever, the four people dressed in white and sitting cross-legged involved in some ritual, the bleak, black hills on both sides, the large red halo around the Matrimandir, which would conjure up communism to the aforementioned mind, the black flag on top with the giant Q on it, which would call to mind both QAnon and the flag of Islamic State, all come together to make you feel revulsion towards cults in general and Auroville in particular (once you see the large sphere the image revolves around is being used as a symbol for the township)—deserving the black lightning bolt or giant doom-crack that hits its Matrimandir. But why is Auroville the central piece of the cover image, its focus?— I mean, considering the outright bad intentions and actions of the other organizations in the article, such as the cult-like group Aum Shinrikyo, which killed 13 people in a sarin-gas attack on the Tokyo subway. You’d ask why Auroville is in such bad company to begin with.

The article begins with a detailed examination of Keith Raniere and his cult-like organization NXIVM. He had an inner circle of women whom he used as ‘consensual’ sex slaves, had them tattoo his initials on their groins, among other things. Zoë, in citing the lessons of #Me Too, absolves the women of complicity, arguing they are innocent victims but arguing at the same time that if they committed crimes as such slaves, they are responsible for their crimes and are to be held accountable: “While brainwashing is seen to have nullified the consent of Raniere’s DOS “‘slaves”, it is generally not felt to have diminished the moral or legal responsibility of women who committed crimes at his behest.” I include this illogical contradiction on the part of Zoë to demonstrate her tendency to try and make reality conform to her idea of it, which is very much in keeping with the magazine’s worldview she’s writing for and the media conglomerate’s that owns it, Condé Nast, something I’ll return to later on.

It’s a contradiction because the women are innocent of engaging in acts of sex and sadomasochism with him and each other (or others) and therefore considered victims because of his power over them but guilty of those same things if they broke the law, for example if a minor was involved. If it’s recognized that he had the power over them to make them do things against themselves and others, why is it that if something was against the law that power is null and void, when law itself is a human convention based on culture and subject to change at any time and not a feature of inherent reality? For example, age of consent laws vary from country to country. Either he had power over them to coerce them into doing things or not. Drawing a line with law is arbitrary, based on the ideas of a society’s morality and not whether or not he had control over them.

Although you’d have to read the article, and I think you need to so as to see what I’m saying, Zoë does quite a tap dance to present that contradiction, trying her best to cover all her bases and not sound as if she is trying to stretch reality to cover her own personal opinion, quoting this book and that research to try and make herself sound objective, like she is just speaking the norm and not also her own opinion. The fact is, she has an agenda, and she manipulates language and the facts to achieve her aim, what, I’ve said, this blog post aims to show in regards to her discussion of Auroville, the Mother, and the Integral Yoga.

But Zoë is no hack. She’s excellent at her craft. Before she gets to the discussion of Auroville, the Mother, and the yoga, she’s taken the reader far beyond cults, shaken the tree of religious faith itself. And how well she’s done that. While still calling the ‘recognized’ cults she mentions a cult, she broadens the use of the term to include the religions of the earth: “Religion, as the old joke has it, is just “a cult plus time.”” She does that, however, in way that you wouldn’t take her seriously, as though she’s just throwing it out there. But she doesn’t just stop there. She goes on to suggest, seriously now, that the belief in a higher power is a pathology. That’s going for more than just religion and God; that’s going for anything that smacks of Spirit. For the astute reader, this article isn’t about defining and discussing cults; it’s an attempt to discredit any believe or faith in, or knowledge about, anything that doesn’t fit into the mainstream materialist scientific paradigm, but I would add that she doesn’t know that one can have knowledge about such things, and not only believe in them, something I’ll expound on at post’s end.

It would not be fair to Zoë to just point out the faults in the article, her overreaching persuasion being chief. Sometimes when she’s talking about people who’ve joined cults, her humanity shines through, some understanding, though not, I should say, for cult leaders (they are the bad guys). Both in the words of one such person, a woman who spent 15 years in the Children of God, and her own words, you get some picture of the caring and understanding person beneath the modes of persuasion:

“Despite Hough’s enduring contempt for those who abused her, her experiences as a minimum-wage worker in mainstream America have convinced her that what the Children of God preached about the inequity of the American system was actually correct. The miseries and indignities that this country visits on its precariat class are enough, she claims, to make anyone want to join a cult. Yet people who choose to do so are not necessarily hapless creatures, buffeted into delusion by social currents they do not comprehend; they are often idealists seeking to create a better world. Of her own parents’ decision to join the Children of God, she writes, “All they saw was the misery wrought by greed—the poverty and war, the loneliness and the fucking cruelty of it all. So they joined a commune, a community where people shared what little they had, where people spoke of love and peace, a world without money, a cause. A family. Picked the wrong goddamn commune. But who didn’t.”

I can’t help to suggest, though, before I get to her discussion of Auroville, how nicely this fits into it, as Auroville aims to be a city of love and peace, one without money (that’s in the Mother’s guidelines for the township), a place for idealists to lay their head. Indeed, who didn’t pick the wrong commune? I mean perhaps this is what Zoë’s getting at, that Aurovillians sure did (and do, to put our eyes on now and the future, as I think Zoë’s eyes are there). I’ll make the case in the end that her discussion of Auroville has a central place in her article, and peppered throughout, it seems, is a writer preparing her field.

Starve a bit and snoring
in the spiritual call for Auroville.
function might be bad.
I’d be a thousand embarrassed.
Her breathing shuts off and she reads the manual.
Let’s say Auroville is just a stand for your community,
makin’ it to survive.
You don’t just say human unity.
You got to go there.

Can we rob you?
You get pilfered—
hands in your own house.
Do your own,
a lot of work,
a lot of years,
to make a Japan,
a beautiful accessed garden.
We’ve grown the Mother on trees.
Who’s coming?
I don’t think you even know yourself.

No fights over guidelines.
That’s what’s working:
yeah, I use it,
adaptable to common sense.
She’s real.
Did I say she’s real?
She’s comin’ in her own hands.
We like visitors.

Auroville’s faith
is sitting on a time clock.
The time is coming
Auroville gauges human worth
and becomes a human unity model
for the rest of humanity.
That’s how people will gauge her worth:
she stands there and counts human unity
in every behavior on earth,
no matter what they are.
That’s Auroville’s dawn.

Whatever Auroville’s current and past failings in regards to its purpose, which is to realize human unity, it’s still its purpose now and always has been, the reason the international township was created, the main reason UNESCO has passed multiple resolutions (the latest in 2017) to support it, why the Dali Lama visited it twice, once in 1973 and again 20 years later, why various people and organizations from around the world support it morally and financially, why youth representing 124 nations and all the states of India brought soil from their homeland to its inauguration ceremony in 1968. Neither in the beginning nor at any time in its history have you had to be a devotee of the Mother or a practitioner of the Integral Yoga to join Auroville, and at any given time the devotees and practitioners have made up a minority of Aurovillians, although a transformation of consciousness always has been a central aim of Auroville, though not of every Aurovillian. While Auroville makes a big to do over not encouraging religion there, preferring people on the spiritual path, any such path, it does not forbid religion either, and you’ll find many Hindus and Buddhists there as well as people of no particular spirituality, even some skeptics. Being a person of goodwill is the bottom line, not being spiritual-minded, despite what its charter says, which is that “to live in Auroville, one must be a willing servitor of the Divine Consciousness.” It’s precisely here it goes astray, foregoing that, in my opinion. Whatever the case, the Mother, Sri Aurobindo, and the Integral Yoga are highly respected by most everyone in Auroville, are its guiding light.

Under the guise of reviewing a book, Better to Have Gone by Akash Kapur, who grew up in Auroville, left, and then returned there to live some years later, Zoë states her rather strong opinions, using the material in it, it seems, to be sole source of the matters at hand and using the author’s understandings (or misunderstandings) of the Mother and the Integral Yoga as the standard way they are understood by all her disciples and students of the yoga. A writer of this stature just doesn’t do something as sloppy as this without being conscious of doing it, without doing it for a reason. The book of course is a foil, as is the article itself being billed a ‘book review’, when it’s more a feature article about cults that underneath it all is really about slamming faith.

“She [the Mother] intended Auroville…to be the home of integral yoga and the cradle of a future race of immortal, “supramental” men and women.” Zoë has taken some scattered facts (from the book?) and twisted them to suit her purpose, which is to make Auroville sound like more than just an impossible dream— make it sound utterly ridiculous, at least in its inception. The Mother intended Auroville to work out human unity, not to be the home of the Integral Yoga. The Mother did not say she founded Auroville to create a race of immortals. Auroville was, in her mind, to be a cradle of a new humanity based on human unity and the realization of its innate divine consciousness, what the word supramental means. Such a realization would also involve a transformation of the body, making it not immortal but more plastic to infinity. It is the wearer of the body that would be immortal, able to take a body off and on as one would a set of clothes, and I’m paraphrasing the teachings on the matter of both the Mother and Sri Aurobindo. It should be mentioned that this process would not happen overnight but take a very, very long time.

However impossible such may sound to the atheist and skeptic, and to most religious-mined people too, to whom it would sound blasphemous, it’s not too terribly different from an aim of the science-minded transhumanists. In other words, it’s not an insane aim, garnered only by loons. And a transformation into a divine consciousness has been a feature of Indian spirituality for at least three thousand years. When you check the facts, read more about Auroville than just that one subjective book, it’s apparent Zoë isn’t being objective. One would ask, repeatedly, why is Zoë purposefully trying to make Auroville sound bad?

Her treatment of the Mother is an attempt to make her out to be a cult leader. “The Mother does not appear to have had the totalitarian impulses of a true cult leader, but her teachings inspired a cultlike zealotry in her followers.” By saying “does not appear” and “true cult leader”, she’s casting doubt in the reader’s mind as to whether she was one or not, and by adding “her teachings inspired a cultlike zealotry in her followers,” she’s saying basically that it’s a moot point because, for all practical purposes, she created a cult; i.e., her follows act like cult members. As a point of fact, only a small fraction of her followers are or have been fanatics, by no means all, just as only a small minority of Aurovillians lost the plot after the Mother left the body and gave people like Zoë material to damn Auroville.

It’s the worst moment in Auroville’s 53 year history, and it’s the moment Zoë focuses shows us. It sounds terrible, as does the storming of the U.S. Capitol, but just like that insurrection does not show the essence of America, shows the very things contrary to it, the “cultural revolution” in Auroville, as Zoë puts it, does not capture the heart of Auroville, neither in the beginning nor now, instead shows the enormous obstacles it faces and has always faced in achieving a workable human unity. It’s characteristic of the times to focus on the ‘sin’ of someone or some organization, not more on their talents and achievements, and I use the word sin so to bring in a religious connotation, since the tendency to point out the bad comes from a sense of self-righteousness, another major feature of our morally indignant times.

She writes of that moment: “When, five years after Auroville’s founding, she failed to achieve the long-promised cellular transformation and died, at the age of ninety-five, the fledgling community went slightly berserk….To preserve the Mother’s vision, a militant group of believers, known as the Collective, shut down schools, burned books in the town library, shaved their heads, and tried to drive off those members of the community whom they considered insufficiently devout.”

Any student of history knows, especially today, there’s always more than one version of tumultuous events in a people’s or a place’s history, and there’s usually more to the story. A writer of any history has to pick and choose what to include, Zoë, as I’ve pointed out, picking out the worst, and we want them to tell the version of events as close to the truth of those events as possible, not flavor or color them to fit an agenda, ideological or otherwise, something being argued about ad infinitum in today’s world, the conservative crowd being accused left and right of writing history to their agenda, and here’s The New Yorker, a standard bearer of liberalism, publishing a piece of a writer doing that same thing.

What immediately happened upon her death was that the Sri Aurobindo Society came to take over Auroville, the organization the Mother had appointed to do so, and Aurovillians greatly resisted this take over, since up until that time Aurovillians had basically ruled themselves, with the guidance of the Mother at a distance. The battle for control, which lasted years, what the moment under the microscope was a part of, ultimately resulted in Auroville losing its autonomy to the Indian government. Douglas, whom I share this blog with, in researching for this post, has interviewed an eye witness to that tumultuous time, as well as all the history of Auroville thereafter, a European Aurovillian and disciple of the Mother and Sri Aurobindo, who came to Auroville in 1972. (The Mother died in 1973.) Here’s a slightly edited version of their online chat, his speaking put in italics:

“When Mother died, many things happened, first of all from an organisation outside of Auroville, trying to take it over legally and practically. It is in sheer reaction to that very real danger already starting to take effect at the time, that also from within Auroville a group formed to defend, or so they believed, the authenticity of the way the teachings of Sri Aurobindo and the Mother were being followed. They went too far, for sure, but all this has to be put back in context instead of being blown out of proportion and used to ‘prove’ one’s misconceptions about Auroville.”

“So this group that defended the teachings was called the Collective and did these things stated in the article shortly after the Mother’s death. Is that correct?”

“Yes, that’s when that specific episode happened indeed, but as I explained, it was only after much more violent things had been committed against us (including women and children) to try to starve us all, and to scare us all enough to make us leave, as simply cutting our visas under false accusations [and] had to be discontinued because the Indian Government noticed something wrong was going on with that outside organisation… since the time when the Mother had left her body. During that whole period after November 1973, it has been one long terrible time that can’t be separated. The Aurovilians had been under attack through all forms of more and more devious means by that organisation. Whatever is being singled out in the article, at least none of us Aurovilians has ever beaten up with sticks anybody, even though that was what was being done to us.

Most of us then in Auroville were part of what in the article is supposed to have been called ‘the Collective’. But only a small group within it took the actions incriminated in the article, which haven’t met with the approval of all, but on the contrary have been condemned as quite excessive and unnecessary by the many much more moderate persons in the Auroville mainstream population (including me) that, to my knowledge, never called itself officially ‘the Collective’. Or it has been only for a very brief period, before the situation found again its own balance, the small fanatic group soon dispersing or going away, and the other small groups of various opinions merging again with the mainstream one, that from then on was again simply ‘Auroville’. The differences and antagonisms of that traumatic time are now remembered, if at all, only for the deep lessons we all learned then about this Unity in Diversity which is the very Aim of Auroville.”

Didn’t go berserk.
Getting the picture.
Well they all go down and pick on people,
that Society.
That was a dangerous time.
You know government,
it’s always taking over
too much.
Share a footage,
someone who knows it.
It’s not the same
as the account in the book.
Why do we have a difference?
So many tellings.
Going to get up front,
if we let it happen,
the truth be told.
Where is Zoë?
I need to also
make them look bad,
the whole Auroville thing.
Now, we consider that good?

Okay one moment.
We’ll come back in a month.
We’ll give tomorrow.
Everybody needs some distance
from these troubled times.
And I’m goin’ up the ladder,
up the ladder.
We cast out on yesterday, today, and tomorrow.
Give some idea of pluralism.
That’s from cults.
And I was trying to—
Zoë’s own words.
Do you have everything?
The ideal action.
People act like they’re possessed when they chew on these things.
Things on order.
I put it on safe.
You hear it?

In regards to the Mother’s death and beliefs concerning it Zoë tries to paint a different picture than the facts of the matter, but it’ll take a moment to present them.  Zoë writes, using a quotes from the Aurovillian’s book: ““She never prepared us for the possibility that she would leave her body,” one of the original community members tells Kapur. “I was totally blown away. Actually, I’m still in shock.”” It is true some were shocked when she died. Did the Mother actually say she was never going to die? No. People will believe what they want to, both insiders of the yoga and outsiders. In the Western spirituality of today choosing which Eastern spiritual figure to follow, the Mother is billed as the laughable person that said she wasn’t going to die, and she died. End of story. Choose another guru. Now, what about her and death? She taught that it could be overcome, eventually, and that it couldn’t take you without you letting it. She made some effort in that direction it does appear. I can’t apologize for her attempt to overcome death, only say that many have tried the same. She made many mistakes, and, in my opinion, her fight against death was one of them. But, I will say it was a noble effort, and one very costly to her. It happened that her death took an agonizing six months, where she lay in agony unable to get up or do much more than moan, although she could speak. I’m not concerned if you can’t entertain the possibility, but I believe she held death at bay for that long, had the strength of will to do that, and death only took her because she let it, once she realized it was divine will for her to. This, though, is something for the future to decide, when we have more knowledge about such things.

A brief introduction born.
The Mother said she could fly?
She quoted Shakespeare.
It was not her contradiction.
In the availability of death,
it has to be purchased.
She didn’t do that
until those final days I’ve recounted.
I’ll recount.
It was all funny and everything,
that strong battle for control.
Six months she lay there
doin’ it.
Then God gave her permission to die,
and she left on her own accord.
Can you just get that out of your craw?

What was that imagination at doin’ yellin’?
Broke my leg.
Ha, ha, ha,
divine human.
Is that how fences go?
In a little while that fear will be gone too:
the guru,
they have to be perfect.
Now go to sleep.
Do we have it online?

Three fiction story,
which lasted for years:
Mother would never die
said the Mother;
they said they were Gods;
we are conclusion they said.
They kept going.
It’s more difficult.
It’s a manifestation of the divine mother,
her soul.
A common soul
took no form.
Go put it somewhere man:
why did the Mother make mistakes?
She was a garden growing.
The soul is one thing the outer personality another.
What happened?
She didn’t come all the way to the surface,
the divine mother.
I looked.
It’s in her description.
She tells you the divine mother.
Oh you didn’t what?

I’ve given you some clothes to grapple with.
Understand the name.
It’s his way of calling her
the ashram’s joy.
Are we going to go to sleep here?
We’re gonna rock the boat.
That’s the plug.
Is that enough room?
Go sweetheart.

Zoë uses the term cellular transformation in a misleading fashion, due to in part, perhaps, to the way the author of the book sees it. Zoë would have done well to do a more varied research on the Integral Yoga. Like any religious or spiritual organization that has been around awhile, the yoga is divided into different groups at odds with one another. One group, aligned with a favorite disciple of the Mother, Satprem, to whom she dictated a multi-volume work to entitled The Agenda, focuses rather disproportionately in my opinion on a transformation of the cells, a major theme of the aforementioned work. Perhaps, as I’ve mentioned, the author of the book holds such views. I don’t know. I haven’t read it (it’s publication date is July 20, 2021, a couple of days ago). At any rate, that group is not the mainstream of the yoga, and cellular transformation is only a part of the transformation of the body, which is itself only a part of the supramental transformation, the change into a divine mind, life, and body, the aim of the Integral Yoga.

The transformation of the body is, as I’ve said, something that takes a very long time, not in terms of the years of someone’s life but in terms of the maturity of the human race, and it isn’t possible to complete on earth at this time, nor will be for a long time to come, to paraphrase the Mother and Sri Aurobindo on the matter. The Mother never promised that she’d complete the transformation of the body or its cells. So when Zoë says the Mother promised to do that, she’s twisting facts to suit her need. Put this way, that the Mother failed to fulfill this all-important promise, it makes the Mother sound like a total failure, a loser— Zoë’s aim I’d argue. And by using the term cellular transformation, as opposed to a more usual term such as a transformation of the consciousness, and saying that the goal of the yoga is immortality, not to realize our divine consciousness, called Supermind in our yoga, she’s once again trying to make the Mother and the yoga sound as silly as she can, so you wouldn’t take either seriously. What she isn’t able to do is to make them sound sinister, have that badness inherent of cults and their leaders, try as she might.

In showing the common characteristics of cult leaders, Zoë writes that often “they style themselves as the fathers or mothers of their cult “families””, and they do this so to gain the kind of dependence and submission small children give to their parents. Enter the Mother, showing this characteristic of a cult leader. When you know that it’s common in India to call the wife of a guru mother or the mother, and that the Mother didn’t name herself that, and that Sri Aurobindo did, her being called that fits more into the milieu of Indian spirituality than that of cults. You’d wonder whether or not Zoë had the coming exposé on the Mother in mind when she wrote about that parental characteristic. Was she preparing a field? Since it is a characteristic of cult leaders (as well as leaders in general I might add), and Zoë  is just covering her topic, that would seem to be an unnecessary speculation, but it sure does lead nicely right up to the Mother. As I’ve said, since neither Auroville nor the Mother (nor the yoga) fit into the article as examples of a cult and cult leader on a par with the cult-like organizations mentioned, you’d ask why they are there and if trying to make, not so much modern day Auroville, but the Mother and the yoga out to be such, is an important aim of it.

I think, other than the concept of Supermind, the relationship between the Mother and Sri Aurobindo is the least understood item in the Integral Yoga. If you do a search about it on the net, most of the results you get call them collaborators, and that’s not far from the mark (why didn’t Zoë do that search? Of course she did). For those of us in the yoga, we understand that it was created by both of them, together, even though at the onset, when the Mother first arrived in Pondicherry to stay, she was called by her given name, Mirra, and she was his disciple like the rest of the small group gathered around him in the early days. This changed dramatically after a decisive spiritual experience of Sri Aurobindo, from which he returned calling her the Mother and asking everyone else to too, putting her on equal footing with him in the creation of the yoga, and putting her in charge of the forming and management of the ashram. Not everyone was happy with that, and neither does Zoë seem to be, because she calls him the Mother’s guru, not her collaborator, saying she “claimed to have learned” the secrets of immortality from him, and I’ve paraphrased what Zoë writes.

This is misinformation, manipulating the facts to make false or misleading conclusions: both that he was her guru (he was only for a short time) and reducing the Integral Yoga to a process of effectuating cellular transformation so to achieve immortality, when in reality it is the Truth Consciousness (Supermind) and the corresponding divine life on earth that results from that, not immortality, that the yoga aims for. I’ve already put a cellular transformation in its place, within the framework of a transformation of the body, which itself is within the framework of a transformation of the mind and vital (the life-body, composed of the life force, impulses, and desires), all of which make up the supramental transformation, something that will not be possible in its completeness for generations, what Zoë either misunderstands or purposely leaves out of the discussion (I think both), only using the word supramental to add more weirdness to the effect she’s trying to achieve, which is, as I’ve said before, to discredit Auroville, the Mother, and the Integral Yoga, make them appear ridiculous.

As I’m showing, along with twisting the facts, Zoë’s method is to make things sound lower in worth than they are, debase them, like when she calls the Mother Blanche Alfassa and not Mirra Alfassa, what she called herself (before she was called the Mother) and what others called her, what you’d find her called if you googled her. Blanche is her first name, which she chose not to use (her full name is Blanche Rachel Mirra Alfassa), and I’d bet that Zoë is very careful when it comes to a trans person not to use their dead name, and so why is she using a name the Mother didn’t use? Because the book does? You don’t know, but Blanche sounds more humdrum and perhaps a little bit bitch-like, at least to American ears I’d imagine, pronounced as English, and Mirra has a better ring to it. You would know that Zoë knows she’s called Mirra Alfassa, unless you actually believe she never looked at anything about her other than what’s in that one, single book.

Zoë also uses words and terms set off in quotes to lessen the value of her subject, not necessarily to qualify something. For example, she does that to the term intentional community, which is like putting doubt in the reader’s mind it is one. She does this also with the term integral yoga, as if to suggest it’s not integral at all, and with the term cellular transformation, like she’s laughing at it under her breath. I could go on, but you get the picture. It’s interesting she doesn’t give the yoga the respect of having a name, never capitalizes the first letters of integral yoga. That’s also a way to debase something. Now, it could be the Aurovillian’s book she’s reviewing doesn’t call it by a proper name, but nonetheless she’d know the yoga has a name, and she chooses not to call it by one. It could also be that in her use of terms set off in quotes she’s quoting from the book, but there’s no way to know that, and she would not be blind to the fact that readers might take that as ‘qualified’ material. (It’s a fault of the American style to use double and not single quotation marks to set off some word or term you want to qualify— leads to confusion, as you see here.) Whatever the case may be, if you’re really paying attention, you’ll realize it’s not Auroville Zoë’s after, that’s stuck in her craw; it’s the yoga and the guru, because this article, as I’ve suggested, isn’t really about cults, or that’s not its bottom line. Religious and spiritual faith is and the people that people look to to grow it. Just read the summation of her discussion of Auroville, the yoga, and the Mother:

“Kapur gives too sketchy a portrait of present-day Auroville for us to confidently judge how much of a triumph the town—population thirty-three hundred—really represents, or whether integral yoga was integral to its success. (Norway has figured out how to be “somewhat egalitarian” without the benefit of a guru’s numinous wisdom.) Whether or not one shares Kapur’s admiration for the spiritual certainties of his forefathers and mothers, it seems possible that Auroville prospered in spite of, rather than because of, these certainties—that what in the end saved the community from cultic madness and eventual implosion was precisely not faith, not the Mother’s totalist vision, but pluralism, tolerance, and the dull “compromises and appeasements” of civic life.”

Are gardener minds to rob the world?
Found is a slave.
And we just bubble them.

I just have to ask. If Kapur’s portrait is too sketchy, why didn’t Zoë do a more thorough research on present-day Auroville than this one book? Of course she did. Then why this sentence to begin the paragraph? To fain to continue her discussion within the confines of one single book she’s ‘reviewing’, to cast doubt upon the success of modern-day Auroville, to give information about it, i.e., its present population, but primarily to introduce the main idea of the paragraph, which is to discredit the Integral Yoga, and by that all faiths. And with the next sentence, set off in parenthesizes, she takes her secondary aim and shoots at gurus, and by that at the Mother.

The book is an excellent opportunity to give a bad press to the Mother and the yoga, why, I’d imagine,  Zoë frames the discussion by it. The Aurovillian author describes how his wife’s parents, both pioneers of Auroville, die because of their faith in the Mother and Integral Yoga. They both refuse medical treatment, the mom after she has a fall from the Matrimandir while helping build it, and she relies on ‘cellular transformation’ to heal her but ends up paralyzed and unable to walk, and she commits suicide after the dad dies of a parasitic infection he refused treatment for, and she does so to be with both he and the Mother. As a point of fact, both the Mother and Sri Aurobindo were treated by medical doctors in emergencies (he had a personal live-in physician, Nirodbaran, one of his closest disciples), and the ashram in Puducherry has a clinic with attending medical doctors for sadhaks and visitors to the ashram, and two care homes for its elderly, with nurses and attending physicians, one of which is used also as a hospital for its members. However, both the Mother and Sri Aurobindo did not have very much faith in nor encouraged faith in medicine as it’s practiced today, as a total dependence on tablets and antibiotic injections atrophies our own ability to heal ourselves (the Mother spoke about this and he wrote about it frequently, concerned as they were with not only spiritual enlightenment but also a transformation of the body), and they would not use medication unless absolutely necessary, such as when he broke his thigh bone and asked for pain medication, and he stuck it out over a day before he did. He also refused to wear glasses to correct his failing eyesight (in my opinion an unnecessary suffering; I wear them for reading and writing). These would be the reasons some disciples refuse medical treatment, going to an extreme in their faithfulness to their spiritual teachers or prophets, a tendency of us when following such people, especially after they die, such as the requirement in some Muslim communities and countries for women to wear veils, when Mohammed himself only says in the Quran that women should dress modestly. In regards to suicide, the Mother spoke at length about how, if you do that, upon dying you face in your face the very things you’re committing suicide to get away from, so Zoë can’t put that at the Mother’s feet and say she’s responsible for it, what she’s implying, indeed, that she’s responsible for both deaths, not her two disciples, with their rigidity and fanaticism. It’s a little like they are being made out to be victims of the Mother and her ‘totalist vision’, something certainly implied, “called in her like a mess that was burning” (my muse).

I would assume by totalist vision Zoë means the Mother’s vision in regards to Auroville, but maybe she means her ‘total’ vision, if you’ll pardon the wordplay. I’ll go with the former. She has said previously, and I’m paraphrasing, that the Mother was not a totalitarian leader. In a roundabout way, she’s saying now, in the summation, that she was. Totalism means totalitarianism, and it’s often applied to cults and cult leaders. In any event, you can read the Mother’s vision statement in regards to Auroville.[ii] No doubt Zoë has read it. Perhaps she has also taken a look at The Mother on Auroville (Auropublications), but I somehow doubt it. Neither of those show totalism on the part of the Mother in regards to Auroville, although the latter, things she said or wrote to Auroville and about it as it was forming and getting its feet underneath it, does contain some things that just don’t seem to work, at least not yet. Where is Zoë’s evidence that the Mother had a totalist vision? As I said, it contradicts her previous statement regarding the Mother. It seems she just throws it in while making her strongest statement regarding the ineffectiveness, indeed the obstacle, of faith, what “in spite of” means in that same sentence. At any rate, as to her total vision, if by chance Zoë means that, I’d recommend she read Questions and Answers 1955,[iii] a good enough year as any, although, in my opinion, the 50’s are the best. She just might find that the Mother is more progressive, and liberal, than she is. And as long as I’m stating my opinion, let me say The Agenda is not the best work to read to see the Mother’s vision.

It’s got both your practices on it,
the firm yoga
and the Mother’s slippery slopes—
excessed matter.
She’s not a stale figure in time,
any book you read.
We just let them breathe for a better man.
Sweetheart that’s fine.

And as to an introduction to the Integral Yoga, I myself would not recommend the books written to be that. The yoga is immense, virtually inaccessible to anyone that doesn’t have a calling to it, since it takes so very much reading and contemplation on that reading to even figure out what it’s about, and you have to have an inner compulsion to spend that time and give that concentration, or you just won’t do it, unless you’re being made to for school or work. The yoga doesn’t seek converts, is rather snobbish actually and when it comes to people trying to become a student of it. And you don’t join the yoga. There is no initiation or entrance portal. Based on an inner calling, and if you don’t have that you won’t last long, you just pick it up wherever and begin, relying, if you can, on inner contact with the Mother and Sri Aurobindo as much if not more than on the written and spoken works they left behind.

Now I’ve hardly described a cult. For someone science-mined like Zoë, I’d recommend first getting a good look of how well it views the human condition before trying to find out its scope and goals. Once you do that, you’ll be in a better position to delve into it, since you’ll be confident the yoga ‘knows the score’, believe me. Start with the following works by Sri Aurobindo: Savitri (Sri Aurobindo Ashram Press) From Book Two, The Book of the Traveller of the Worlds, read Canto Four and Ten only, The Kingdoms of the Little Life and The Kingdoms and Godheads of the Little Mind.[iv] Then read The Human Cycle (ibid)[v], and then The Problem of Rebirth (ibid).[vi] After reading these numinous items, you’ll be more prepared to discover the meaning of the Supramental Yoga.

 Zoë’s whole attitude towards the Integral Yoga and the Mother is a classic example of making fun of what you don’t understand and haven’t taken the time to learn about enough to understand, and you’d expect her to be bigger than that because she is a British author, a novelist, who has been writing for The New Yorker since 1994, is currently also writing for The New York Times Book Review, has written for Vanity Fair, The Sunday Times Magazine and The Daily Telegraph, and I can continue. I’d imagine she considers herself a progressive liberal, a good person, one who believes she’s trying to make the world a better place. You’d wonder what gives then, why the yellow journalism?

There’s a war on, if you haven’t noticed, and it’s a war of ideas, specifically, what consensus reality will we all share? And we have to share one in order to have a cooperative and peaceful world, one that works. With almost eight billion of us and counting, our globe is getting more than crowded; it’s getting trashed, and there are so many competing worldviews many don’t even believe that climate changing fact, think people are just pushing their agenda to control them. And recently millions of red-blooded Americans, educated in American schools, steeped in the advent of American science and invention, and embarrassing numbers of its state and national congressmen and women and its senators, believe a national presidential election to have been rigged, not based on real evidence, but because of their cult-like zeal for a political figure— he says it, over and over, and therefore it must be true. You’d understand the urgency to win the battles of the war. We need to ask ourselves, though, before we step in and add to the confusion, are we merely reacting to a perceived threat, or are do we really have something valuable, and true, to add to the conversation? We might also ask, in our zeal to defeat the false narrative, are we justified in using misinformation to do so?

From Auroville Zoë goes to QAnon, like they are kissing cousins. The QAnon conspiracy is ridiculous, but it’s being used by the powers that be to alarm everyone into a backlash against any belief, opinion, or knowledge not backed up by mainstream science. In one form or another, such a conspiracy, that there’s a group of evil people behind the ills of society, to put it in its most basic form, has been around hundreds of years, and probably much longer, and in times past it was homosexuals and Jews, not pedophiles, that were those people, (I’ve only simplified, not tried to rewrite, Western history). I first heard about QAnon, in somewhat its present form, in 2008, from someone who heard about it in the annual European Rainbow Gathering. He bought into it and actually believed that all the leaders of the world’s most powerful nations got together at various times and conducted satanic rituals involving what was called star gate, which was anally raping little boys so to open a portal to hell. He said there were people giving classes about it at the gathering. I cannot verify that fact, but I can tell you when I heard that and what I heard, and it’s not unreasonable to assume my friend did not just make it up on the spot. There was no reasoning with him, just like there’s no reasoning with the people who believe in QAnon today.

My point is that conspiracy theories such as QAnon are not unnatural to us and signs our world’s falling apart, and when we deal with them as aberrations of nature, and by making the believers of such conspiracies out to be fools and liars, we amplify the conspiracy and do not negate it. No one, to my knowledge, has yet to focus on the central feature of such a conspiracy, the scapegoat, be they homosexual, Jew, or pedophile, and see that the hatred of them, their scapegoat function in society as it organizes itself around the human ego (a function we seem to be only dimly aware of), has reached such a pitch they’re being blamed for ‘it all’. Correlating how that corresponds with things like nationalism, separatism, populism, xenophobia, ethnocentrism, intolerance, and the like reaching likewise high pitches would certainly help us understand and therefore be able to address things like QAnon better and not exacerbate them as we’re doing now. Though I’ve gone far off topic, let me add that if we viewed racism in a similar manner, as a manifestation of the scapegoat function, and not just as ignorant, hateful people being racist, we’d be in a better position to begin to eliminate it.

I’m writing this blog post because (I mean other than doing it at the Mother’s behest, from inner contact with her), the cultural powers that be, not all of those powers, but the ones with their hands on the horns of the mainstream, which are the news media, entertainment, art and literature publications, the higher education sector, i.e. university professors, and the scientific community, seem more concerned with establishing their reality (based on materialistic science) as consensus reality than accurately representing reality, than truth, truth being not some religious name or spiritual formula but what’s actually going here on this  wonderful, terrible globe. Enter Zoë with her article about cults but not about cults that I’m critiquing here. The Guardian has said of her in the past: “Heller has form when it comes to hatchet jobs,”  and she’s establishing a reputation for “disemboweling” writers of books she deems badly written.[vii] (It wouldn’t be fair not to mention Zoë ‘s take on the matter, which is that she wrote the review The Guardian article’s about “in a pure spirit”, not to attack anyone.)[viii] I cannot help but wonder whether or not Zoë wrote this on her own and submitted it to The New Yorker, or she was asked to, since, in her fiction, journalistic pieces, and interviews, she’s often an outspoken atheist and critic of faith, would be one to turn to in order to write an article debunking it. The question isn’t of critical importance because, whatever the case, The New Yorker published it, showing they too are interested in discrediting religious and spiritual faith and the leaders and teachers that grow that, and they are willing to publish yellow journalism and misinformation to do it.

After reading other articles by magazines also owned by CondéNast, such as “What the Pentagon’s New UFO Report Reveals About Humankind” (Wired, June 2021), which does not use misinformation but does have an underlying perspective, as stated in the title, one similar in fashion to The New Yorker article but broader in scope, one that, in a very subtle manner, belittles our “continued need to believe in something beyond our mundane experience of the world,” you’d wonder whether or not CondéNast has an editorial input, an agenda.” The Wired article ends:

“Ultimately, no report is going to do much to move the needle for either side. What any given person thinks about UFOs comes down to their personal cosmology and the underlying truths they see in the world. As Fraknoi noted, the belief in alien visitors mirrors people’s faith in other kinds of spiritual protectors, like guardian angels. “A lot of these UFO reports are people wishing we had alien godparents that we could consult about our problems,” he says. “For the most part, I think we have to solve our own problems.””[ix]

Without actually stating it, Wired implies its own cosmology in a manner well within the criteria for an ‘objective’ article (complete objectivity is an impossibility for anyone, and neither is it wrong to promote a worldview, as long as that’s not done underhandedly), their worldview being that there are no higher powers to help us, nothing other or deeper than the mundane, everyday reality we see. Is Condé Nast promoting this agenda? Even if it’s not, we still need to ask the question, since only a handful of media conglomerates already own most of the press in the U.S.,[x] and the entertainment monolith Disney is buying up all the ‘imagination franchises’ of Hollywood,[xi] putting itself in quite a position to influence children worldwide, and Internet monopolies such as Facebook and Google are buying up as much of ‘viral’ as is feasible for them to, gaining quite a control over the conversation of the Internet, and you have to wonder if these companies are not just interested in making more profits but are interested also, keenly so, in winning the battle for consensus reality. All of the companies I mentioned (with notable exceptions such as the owners of Fox News, who give some preference to the Christian faith, not, I’d add, all faiths) subscribe to scientific materialism, not their each and every employee, but, other than a strong belief in capitalism and a democracy based on that, it would be the company’s ideological bottom line.

By using the term scientific materialism to describe the worldview of so very many people, I’m being rather narrow for brevity’s sake. What I mean to say is that those cultural powers that be and the people providing content for them, such as Zoë Heller, see “science as the leader in life” and “as the truth giver / for the principle arms of humanity, / for her mind think” (my muse, from The Literary Eye, an epic poem being considered by one of those powers). Although science is just beginning to address consciousness as a thing in itself, and as a result will inevitably open its doors to the unseen, entertain the discoveries of the mystics (not anytime soon), science is basically materialistic in its view of the universe, quantum physics notwithstanding, does not believe in either higher powers (God or an Absolute, Gods, Goddesses, angels, divine beings), or lower powers (demons, asuras and the like), or that there are higher and deeper realities (other than an ‘insentient’ quantum field and some vague notion of other universes, nothing, I’ll add, about larger things than universes)—the mundane world is what you see and what you get.

The culture war I’m pointing out is basically, in one form or another all over the world but in America most pointedly, being fought between conservatives and liberals. But I would argue there are very few true liberals, and that most everyone is conservative in that they view the human being and react to him and her in the same fundamentally conservative way, what I’ll return to in a moment. To be a liberal, in its essential sense, as that’s generally viewed and not given the deeper and more integral meaning I assign it, means being concerned with issues of power, specifically between the individual and the government, but also between minorities and majorities, and that the former has intrinsic rights to express themselves without being stomped on by the latter, and that society needs to constantly progress to create a more perfect balance between those who have power and those who don’t, with an aim to eliminate power differences as much as possible and within reason and give everyone an equal status in terms of the power to self-determine their lives and livelihood, and I’d argue that there’s a sense, however hidden now, of creating a more ideal society, of progressing beyond our present state. Being conservative means, basically, to maintain the status quo in terms of the values, social, racial, ethnic, national, political, religious, etc. a person who identifies as conservative has experienced all their lives. In the future, the war will be fought over a fundamental change in the fabric of humanity, once that possibility becomes visible, whether it’ll be believed in or not by the people who oppose it, but such isn’t even on the table today.

I mean that there are very few liberals because, whether we are talking about Zoë Heller, most certainly a liberal by identification, or Rush Limbaugh (deceased), who was a conservative by identification, or whatever liberal or conservative we put side by side, they both would I bet share the same fundamental view, in one degree or another, of the human being and react to him or her in the same way, and that is: that the human being is a separate individual from every other human being, does not share a field of consciousness nor identity with all other people; that the formula of oneness is not the underlying formula of the universe, the ground of everything; that we have absolute free will, and no mitigating circumstances, a spell of rage or lust for example, or being severely abused as a child or even being raised as a child soldier or in such violent arms as Islamic State, excuses criminal behavior; that there are no hidden wills, such as that of the community (or lower powers), involved in the criminal actions of an individual to the point that the community also bears responsibility and not only the individual; that law and retribution (punishment), carried out by the state, is the only or primary way to prevent wrong and address wrong done, is what justice is, what ‘heals’ victims; that goodness means having goodwill to people who do good and ill will for people who do wrong; that people who do wrong have lost much or most of their worth as human beings, indeed, that you judge people in moral terms, and criminal behavior nullifies any good they have done, achievements they’ve made, or talents they have; that the outer world is reality, the inner being subjective and personal, not to be given the same attention or weight as the outer, indeed, that from the outer the inner world arises and not the other way around, and therefore things such as dreams might be interesting and even meaningful, but not enough to give them as much weight or more as outer media in determining the course of life, not enough to spend a lifetime also getting an education on their interpretation; that there is no secret inner consciousness to open and explore; that our name and corresponding personality are who we are, and there is no deeper or higher self we truly are; that the world is to be taken at face value and is not a representative model of a larger reality, life only a field for the aggrandizement of the individual and/or the group, though one socially responsible and morally fit, and life is not a stage, movie, or video game (using known terms to confront the unknown), and therefore every real or perceived wrong done to us or whom we value is an affront to nature and should be reacted to as such, and I can continue, but that’s enough to get the idea almost everyone on earth is a conservative. I wouldn’t imagine Zoë holds all of these things to the degree Rush did, for example the ill will towards ‘criminals’ (her bringing in Norway, which focuses on reform and not punishment, makes me think this, and the matter of fact way in which she talks about people, like Keith Raniere, who have committed grave crimes, and, although it’s clear she doesn’t have goodwill towards such people, she avoids calling them monsters or being sensational in discussing them), but I’d imagine all the items and ideas I’ve listed are very much a part of her worldview too. Few people would view and react to us differently. Those, I argue, are true liberals. They are more than that; they are the forerunners of the advent of the new human being.

Although many would disagree with me on the above, people who identify as liberal and who also hold a different fundamental view of the human being, those people who identify as liberal and who also hold a different fundamental view of the human being, a spiritual one, like most Aurovillians and sadhaks of the Integral Yoga, as well as most spiritually-minded people, who hold a view of oneness and/or unconditional love, it’s been my experience that, when it comes right down to it, encountering one such as I for example (see the muse below that ends this post), they hold the view I show above.

Like most science-minded people, Zoë does not know we can know and not only believe answers to the big questions in life, and she probably doesn’t even believe we can answer them, as science nowadays is using that belief, that such questions are unanswerable, as a means to avoid them. This article, for example, shows her walk towards meaning but not arriving, and when you finish reading it, you hold nothing of value in your hand that you can definitely say has been a revelation to you, although she’s presented interesting facts. It, like I said, was written to get you to believe in the doctrine of the mainstream cultural powers that be, which is that religious and spiritual belief are pathologies, although she never comes out and says it. The biggest danger to that doctrine is personal spiritual experience, our own narratives of such, our stories. “They proved to me by convincing reasons that God does not exist; Afterwards I saw God, for he came and embraced me. And now what am I to believe- the reasoning of others or my own experience? Truth is what the soul has seen and experienced; the rest is appearance, prejudice and opinion” (Sri Aurobindo).[xii] Science would have us distrust our own experience if it contradicts its beliefs. Zoë would too, and she very cleverly casts a measure of doubt on the phenomenon of story itself. She writes:

“Bernstein…argues that our propensity to go nuts en masse is determined in part by a hardwired weakness for stories. “Humans understand the world through narratives,” he writes. “However much we flatter ourselves about our individual rationality, a good story, no matter how analytically deficient, lingers in the mind, resonates emotionally, and persuades more than the most dispositive facts or data.””

The principle bias with which we live.
Tell me in front of the United States.
Tell me something.
Death is right here,
and we don’t
think it’s for real.
A Luna protective script?
Wow, protecting Iran.
Are we gonna get any idea at all
about love of God?
And the love of God complete?
Able to take eternity in our single breast.

Every check this world is claimed
an institute of no derelict of searchology, but
when results are forthcoming we accept them.
Wow what a major burn.
Is that consciousness?
Don’t give it the weight of reality.
You hear me guys on TV?

Wham, bam, thank you ma’am,
my education is complete.
All these titles with my name,
and my consciousness is unknown to me.
I don’t even investigate my very own dreams.
There, there science.
Is that reality they’re studyin’?
What do we sit in day and night?
You mean consciousness holds us?
It’s not the scientific paradigm.

We have means to judge the truth value of a story, but there will always be a measure of belief involved in accepting it as fact, even for such mundane things as someone’s trip to Norway, if you haven’t actually been there yourself and know firsthand the country exists. You can imagine, that before the fame Columbus’ voyage brought to the Americas, the existence of such land between Europe and Asia was either unknown (by your average European at the time) or considered a myth, even though others had been there long before Columbus. It will be the same with the higher modes of consciousness and our larger and deeper selves. They’ll be a 100th monkey moment, that will stretch for some time I’d imagine, and one day they’ll be as known as Norway, because they are there. To insist such things are only hallucinations on the part of those who experience them, or likened to a dream, is to simply show the ignorance of such things. I think, a lot of the time, people can’t imagine that others have experienced more of the ‘gold’ of being human than they have, and they can’t accept having been ‘out-humaned’. I’ve learned that, no matter how far I’ve gone in consciousness, there will always be people who have gone much farther, why I laid my faith at the feet of the Mother and Sri Aurobindo. Their experience just blows me away.

As a young man driving my pickup truck down the road one night in Texas, I suddenly found myself over my head several meters looking down on my little self driving the truck, and I was an individual “hælographied to the One”, with a vision and knowledge that I experienced as being beyond the universe, “and it was me” (my muse). Only a very short time the experience lasted, but it’s the defining experience of my life, and thereafter I oriented my life towards that one goal, an infinite number of distractions notwithstanding, wanting only to become that real me I am up there. It would be years before I discovered anyone that had had the same experience or even knew about it. I had no teacher at that time and was not following any spiritual system, and nor was I involved with any group discussing or practicing such. It had happened that I’d opened my inner consciousness and was able to go deep inside, via lucid dream, and in dreamless sleep I entered the well of soul. That was the springboard up there. A year after the overhead experience, I was driving that same pickup, to go to somewhere to camp (Enchanted Rock State Park), because I knew something was about to happen, but it happened on the way, and I found myself in a state of suspended animation. My ‘I’ had gone, my thoughts had shut off, my breathing, and my heartbeat, and yet I lived and continued, unimpeded, to drive the truck “a lonely sentinel on life’s highway, burdened with the deep” (my muse). That lasted some minutes, and there is more to the experience, but somewhere else I tell that. Those three experiences are described by Sri Aurobindo, are important experiences of the Integral Yoga, each an opening towards the triple transformation of the yoga: the psychic (soul), supramental, and spiritual (enlightenment), and I wasn’t to encounter him until several years later. Now whom am I to believe, Zoë Heller and The New Yorker or Sri Aurobindo and the Mother?

Whom you believe, Zoë or I, will depend, ultimately, on which of us is writing to you in good faith, with goodwill. Writing articles containing misinformation and yellow journalism is writing with ill will, no matter how you slice it, no matter how good you feel your cause is or how pressing you or your constituents feel is the need to convince people to believe your misinformation over the facts.

I don’t express the opinion of every writer:
Salman Rushdie helped me a lot.
Is Zoë quoting herself?
We wouldn’t leave that man just a dead end.
He’s got roads for our eyes to view.
I’m just counting sheep here.
What is an intellectual revolution?
Where Zoë falls short.
You don’t form the motorcade.
Am I expressing my opinion?
The calculator
is the halls of time.

If this had not been kept secret,
if this had been given to children,
this post handling,
you would say a race had been spared
the delayly beast.

walk upon the Earth has meaning,
and you hear my road.
No hand has held it so far.
Do we meet it down the road?
I do a sky meet danger now.
That’s the status quo.

I’ve given you
the road to handle.
The world were supposed to I think
handle there,
heal there,
in all of sex’s touchings.
I’m the one
the stomach can’t.
That’s social media.

Daddy! Daddy! Come here! Come here!
I say blossom you say sneeze.
I’m holdin’ the world
in all of my paperwork,
in the daddy I am today.
That’s gettin’ large, isn’t it?

Luna Rascal,
that’s the name of my parade.
Rottweiler puppy
I love you, I love you, I love you.
That’s Rascal.
That’s Rascal everybody,
on some cushion in my house.
And I’m sittin’ in the sun.
That’s my day.
I’m busy ruled.
You hear pathology?

When the sun goes down
it goes in.
He’s a lunatic.
There’s a war on.
The essentials:
stood up and be counted.

To house deity in the clothes of time
there lurks an unknown sun,
every bit as different as you.
I must see this,
even if I die where principle took me.
You would not believe me.
It’s more stirring hidden media.
It’s on borders with man.

We come to the question of why Auroville, the Mother, and the Integral Yoga are included among such notorious cult-like organizations and conspiracies such as QAnon. Although Zoë tries very hard to make them fit with the others, they most certainly don’t, as I’ve pointed out. If the illustrator’s ignoring my request for transparency in order to better ascertain the intention of Zoë in writing about Auroville, and I never get a reply, we can probably assume neither would Zoë tell us why the town, the teacher, and the spiritual system share such bad company, what her intentions are in putting them there. We need transparency though, so we can judge to what extent the cultural powers that be are trying to manipulate public opinion, and that they will not give it just adds weight to my assertion that they are.

The fact that she reviewed the book before it even came out, before its official publication date, shows she had inside information that it’d been written, nothing out of the ordinary I might add. Akash Kapur is, like her, an established writer for the mainstream cultural powers that be (can I call them the establishment?). To be fair to Akash, though, I should mention we have heard from someone that knows him here that he would not be happy with his book being used to give misinformation about his hometown and its founder, to be twisted so. It’s not unreasonable to assume that Zoë’s review of it and her discussion of the three entities (can I call them the trinity? Lol) are a central feature of her article, like she had all this material about cults just waiting for this book to cap it off, since the publication of the article came so quickly upon the publication of the book. The question remains, though, why she includes them to begin with. I think she does because it’s not cults she’s after, let me repeat, but faith itself, and today, Auroville and the Integral Yoga stand as possible avenues for the advent of a more modern faith not hampered by all the baggage of the world’s major religions and because they represent not a religion but a spirituality, something based more on personal inner experience than on beliefs, rituals, and practices, the difference between religion and spirituality being something neither the religious mind nor the secular mind seem to know, and the words are often confused together, and something probably rather vague to Zoë (in regards to the yoga) but what she nonetheless senses, what adds to her feeling that they are a threat to the attempt to discredit and ultimately eradicate religion, and spirituality based on higher powers and modes of consciousness, from human life. I wouldn’t imagine she feels they are a threat because of their intrinsic weight but because she feels people are generally gullible and vulnerable to such things, and she wants to head this off at the pass. “It’s an end, an end where the Integral Yoga is concerned” (my muse). I believe that’s an aim of hers here, however much pronounced in her mind it is, to debunk that possibly upcoming faith, just in case.

Although it’s a little off topic, it’s quite revealing what Zoë says about why cults “proliferated” in the 60’s, as a result of the “social and political tumult” of that decade, as if we’re not experiencing that tumult now or don’t basically almost always. What a simplistic and one-sided explanation, similar to the communist ideology that tries to reduce everything to class struggle, or, I might add, to mainstream science that tries to reduce the whole phenomenon of consciousness to brain matter. And it always surprises me, though it shouldn’t by now, that writers who claim to be evidence-based or science-based, take one single phenomenon happening in human society and treat it in isolation like it’s not a part of a larger whole. For example, many consider, talk about, try to solve the police murders of minorities in America as a thing in itself and not a part of the police murders of the members of the majority race or of the larger phenomenon of police brutality world-wide. Here, it would be obvious to any astute observer that the rise of cult-like organizations in the 60’s was part of a larger social movement whereby a great number of intentional communities and communes were created (when Auroville was born, 1968), which was part of a larger movement of an explosion of an interest in spirituality, particularly Eastern, although Western religion too got a big boost. India, I might add, and argue, was the spiritual epicenter of the 60’s for Westerners. Is there a fear in the West, by the powers that be, that her spiritual influence will be felt again as powerfully as it was felt then? Be that as it may, the cults of the 60’s came about out of that larger religious and spiritual movement, cannot be reduced to simply social and political upheaval.

The underlying problem of the inability to consider a larger picture, in my view, is directly related to the fact that neither Zoë nor the scientific paradigm she subscribes to have any idea of an inner humanity that influences each and every one of us. Within that sea are not only tides, which move and shape us daily to rhyme despite our differences, rhythms we are but dimly aware of, which we see as cycles of this and that, but also from that ocean come openings from the larger above us and the deeper within, rare, earth-shaking things. Put the 60’s there. Something happened, despite contemporary attempts to pass it off as a bunch of hippies getting stoned, or how incredibly naïve we were back them, or how dangerous it was, with all the sex, drugs and rock-n-roll. Just listen to the music. Something wonderful was preparing a far off field and allowed only a little light come out from the searchlight of its eyes and quickly shut that off, but we were left quaking from the freedom and vastness of its vision. It was even on TV. I am a child of the 60’s, and so is Zoë. I mean, we were children then, and I remember that wonder. I wonder why she can’t.

In summation, I have to say that I am surprised The New Yorker published Zoë’s piece, not ‘shocked’ as that Aurovillian was at the Mother’s death, but really surprised. I have always trusted them to be what they bill themselves to be, a standard bearer of high culture in America, despite having poetry rejected by them a couple of times years ago. I had a subscription to it while studying English, History, and Classical Greek (Attic and Homeric) in university, and I always loved getting the magazine in the mail down there in Texas, the fit and feel of it, its culture. When a trusted institution such as The New Yorker resorts to misinformation and yellow journalism, it’s like we’ve lost a light in this world, like a star has fallen.

We don’t only need transparency from the cultural powers that be in regards to the making of a ‘story’, to be able to judge for ourselves its faithfulness to the truth and fairness towards whomever; we need them not to succumb to the pressure of the times and jump on the band wagon of ‘I want you to believe this, not that, and I’m willing to manipulate the facts to do that’. A consensus reality will arise in time, and we want it to be what’s really going on and not allow our fear to override our reason, because the world seems to be going to pot because of false narratives, and step in and try and slip in our limited idea of consensus reality on an already confused public. We still have no idea there’s a whole to see, not just a bunch of fragments we have to arrange in some order or another, and it will take a holistic view to get any real idea of what’s going on here. That will take some time. Why don’t we, in the meantime, get into an investigation of the hole in our room, that place we are reluctant to search? That’s consciousness.

Ask me about the future.
Now what did you say?
We’ve got a new human being coming up the road.
You know the 60’s marked it,
even though they shut off without achieving anything.
An opening in humanity
is what they were.

Can we get around itemized bulletins?
Come to where the flavor is.
That’s a beautiful dream.
You think so.
He’s nuts.
We will achieve human unity,
and we will get bigger than our dreams.
We’ve got a long haul.
Contrary times ahead.

What we’re talking about true freedom.
Divine eyes
will see everything there.
Divine eyes see everything true.
That’s our own vision.
I’m going out.
I’m going up.
I’m sure stuck cleanin’ it
before it’s going to happen.
Dear God,
You want me to do
a street dog?
I don’t think that’s what it is.
Texas shut up.
‘Bout horses,
have a good quality.

What a minute,
isn’t this who chewed his shirt off?
No one’s gonna buy it
meet him.
I’m gonna show
how many
life boys…
Stop it daddy.
You’re gonna be this artist going to work
an enlightened man.
How’d he get through?
His whole life changed,
to be a good item for children.
Stay in the line
for larger man.
You hear his skies,
his daily meeting with life.
There, there Robin Hood.
We’ve socially outcast.
You mean people,
look behind you.
With on the key,
with on the private grinder,
that Donny’s comin’.

Now we heard from him.
Hey I’m glad
she’s a Rosa Parks.
The girl left highly commended books
on her own backyard,
even for people to see.
Puppy died.
That puppy
his gatherin’ Lisa,
terrible tragedy.
Now he’s affinitied with you,
just bein’ normal
and understandin’ death’s grave concern.
The times we live in,
how you get a job:
to meet you
we hope
we just say here,
read The Literary Eye.
It has oats in it,
Charles Edison,
and a little bit of Shakespeare.

Stood out in the roads of time.
Talk about
get the boy something.
I’m glad you knocked on the door like that.
I want the key to Douglas’ room,
so he knows he’s integral to the task,
me having this blog post.
Thank you Doug.

Turned off the switches,
that against you too, me too.
Act up—
responsible journalism.
you’re gonna start a war.
Oh yeah?
I bottled,
I bottled it all
till we’re big enough to read it,
‘cause we’re not ready.
Let’s look at the literary paradigm.
It’s gonna be right there:
literature speaks.
Wait a moment,
no literary eye publishes it?
That’s the problem.

Why don’t you get up there
and protest?
Who’s gonna listen?
My God,
his face looks like
a pedophile’s.
The oxygen says I cannot breathe—
your hand on my neck.
Writing notes.
He’s just a baggage watchtower.
You move!
That I have a story
be worth something,
feed our little ones.

We circle friends.
Come on Luna.
This little girl in our house,
a little Rottweiler.
Luna and Rascal dance together all day,
in our beds and in our hearts.
The floor is for children.
Just kidding.
The president,
king of the world,
of my simplistic café,
a little Rascal.
You hear the music don’t you?

My little Rascal
pooped on the bed.
We don’t spank puppies,
children either.
keep yourself from doing that.
We want him to walk
confidently on this God’s green Earth.
If you did bad things to him,
he’s got worse things in store.
Why is sex the only disease?
Don’t you know violence has worse letters?
It goes horrible with freedom.
Take him to school
and undermine so much of his will.

There’s a little clique class.
I found it.
What’s that for?
My fair rare of.
It’s been my classroom.
My classroom teacher’s the Mother.
She had such a vision of school it wasn’t school at all
but the way kids naturally learn.
Okay listen,
she is alive.
Both her and Sri Aurobindo
move the confines of space
to give me the lessons I need.
It’s full, it’s full.
Is that mode of your precinct?
It’s the protection, love, and validation they give.
This is the miracle
see me nicely.
I’m sorry,
you believe in science.
All red-headed stepchild aside,
you’re not taken care of, are you?

Below, the Earth.
What whole do you see?
It’s where I make coffee,
and I’m steeped in it.
Do you hear its brush with time?
Stop trying to look as cool as the 60’s.
That’s not gonna work.
You’re tryin’ to be so king-minded.
This is just godawful funny:
you have this pedophile in his shorts saying this.
No one is gonna take him seriously.
That’s king in your room,
a conscious sun.
We must meet this on the road.
It’s even affect your ears.
Let’s quietly go on with our business
aware of ourselves.
This is greatness in reading.
Why are you starin’?
You have such a large shorts.
This is integral shorts.







[vii] “Is Zoë Heller’s review of Salman Rushdie’s memoir the ‘hatchet job of the year’?” (The Guardian, Dec. 2012)

[viii] “Zoe Heller on Feminism, Rushdie and more…” (Kindle, May 2013)


[x] Here’s an example of a news media conglomerate with an agenda: (“This is Extremely Dangerous to Our Democracy” Blyledge, YouTube). Some would argue such an overreaching ‘hand in the pie’ on the part of Sinclair Broadcast Group isn’t indicative of all news media conglomerates, and maybe the other aren’t so obvious about it, but I’d argue of course the others do it too.

[xi] Check out this video I made to show a major agenda of Disney:

[xii] Thoughts and Aphorisms (Sri Aurobindo Ashram Press)

Beauty’s Reign

Beauty’s Reign

Verse 1

d               a         g
It’s been a long time,
long, long, long time,
g                              a                    d     g
everything that’s sung and in one line.
d                            a               g
Work up slowly your way to it.
d                                   g                   a
And the folk song’s driftin’ on a better day.
d                          a                  g
The folk song’s liftin’ on a inner ray:
d                g        a           g              d
the many splendors of beauty’s reign.
g                a        d              g
Here the heart wants to share
g                        a                       d
snow covered music for my kind,
g                                        a                                      d
on the wings of the time, on the wings of a dove, on the wings of love.
a                           g
So many changes for my kind,
a                    d
everything to do with the divine,
a                              g
everything that’s true,
d                      a                       g
beauty’s ray, beauty’s role, beauty’s reign,
d              a                      g                       d
beauty’s ray, beauty’s role, beauty’s reign.

Verse 2

d a  g
Let go,
let, let, let go.
g a      d       g
Land wide release.
d             a                   g
You are llamada up above. (Spanish, pronounced ‘yamada’)
d                                   g                   a
And the folk song’s driftin’ on a better day.
d                          a                  g
The folk song’s liftin’ on a inner ray:
d                g        a           g              d
the many splendors of beauty’s reign.
g                a        d              g
Here the heart wants to share
g                        a                       d
snow covered music for my kind,
g                                        a                                      d
on the wings of the time, on the wings of a dove, on the wings of love.
a                           g
So many changes for my kind,
a                    d
everything to do with the divine,
a                              g
everything that’s true,
d                      a                       g
beauty’s ray, beauty’s role, beauty’s reign,
d              a                      g                       d
beauty’s ray, beauty’s role, beauty’s reign.

Verse 3

d            a  g
A time of change,
change, change, change, change,
g                a                               d              g
when the world pipe knows only one thing.
d                    a                      g
You have to know it very well.
d                                   g                         a
And the folk song is tempted by an adverse fate.
d                            a                                     g
The folk song is driftin’ wrong on the Titan’s urge.
d                   g  a   g                  d
He saw my sun, moon, and stars.
g      a   d            g
Put all change back.
g                          a                             d
But in the play there’s a process aware of,
d                g        a                           d
Look out of the psychic being’s urge.
a                         g
And that weakness was no longer,
a                             d
and that weakness was no longer.
a                     g
It shattered not
d                      a                       g
beauty’s ray, beauty’s role, beauty’s reign,
d              a                      g                       d
beauty’s ray, beauty’s role, beauty’s reign.


D          A              G
This is from the sun (3xs):
g              a                      d                       g
beauty’s ray, beauty’s role, beauty’s reign,
d              a                      g                       d
beauty’s ray, beauty’s role, beauty’s reign.

Help You From the Rear View Mirror

(The full movie can be seen here: The article on the film was originally posted in July 2015 at:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I’ll finish with poems from my Twitter feed

The Settling Stone a Carve

The Settling Stone a Carve

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

Image Pondicherry


Image Pondicherry

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

Original Sin

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

Original Sin

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

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

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


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

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

The Killer Find

The Killer Find

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

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

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

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

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.
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
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.
will be your growth rate.
A divine smile
has a heartbeat.

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 –
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:

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,
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,

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

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,
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,
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.
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:
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?
all American,
I bring home the change,
strands of the common way.


A Hidden Resource Guide

by Donny Duke

In my mid twenties to early thirties the inner doors were flung wide open. Especially intense were the 3 and a half years immediately following a spiritual experience that happened when I was 28, and I was able to consciously explore not only dream and transition states between waking and sleeping (hypnagogia and hynopompia) and the trances such as the cataleptic (sleep paralysis) that sometimes accompany them, and consequently too the out of body experience often resulting from such a trance, but also dreamless sleep. There in the deepest most hidden place inside me, in my center, way beyond or behind dream, I entered into the realm of soul, just a short baptismal shock, but in that journey, a very involved inner journey that took a number of stages and a week or so, I took my conscious, that part of me that thinks and feels and dreams, down into my center and connected it to the soul, and why I call it the soul is the spirit of this article.

I understand now that such an opening of the inner consciousness is unusual, where you can consciously explore the inner life with as much conscious awareness and will as you have in waking life, where you have lucid dreams most every night, or frequent cycles of that, can learn to go from waking to dreaming consciously, from dreaming into the states between sleeping and waking (twilight I call them), from twilight into the cataleptic trance, and from there out of the body, but my list isn’t to suggest OBE is the direction of the exploration. For me this opening was temporary, and it slowly closed, not completely, but the unusual degree of opening I’m describing, especially the last two items, cataleptic trance and OBE, were the first things to go and in the ensuing years to become rare events.

I suspect in a future humanity such a metaphysical opening to our inner consciousness will be the norm, a spiritual opening as well, but for now it’s rare to experience even a short period of this, more common to have a smaller opening, where things like lucid dreams and OBE’s happen a couple of times a week, using those two inner experiences because they are now the most talked about net-wise, interest in sleep paralysis notwithstanding, but even this more common smaller opening is not yet common in humanity.

If you find yourself experiencing such an opening, large or small, and many are today, though not enough to light an inner revolution in humanity, not even enough to make the nightly news, you have a rare opportunity to experience firsthand what most everyone else does secondhand. You can know and not only believe that consciousness transcends material process, a knowledge that can transform your life if you understand what it means. To see it firsthand, however, involves conscious inner exploration, which is more than awakening within dream and trying some technique like looking at your hands or some trick to manipulate the dream more. In other articles, such as “The Epic of Man”[i] and “You’re like Wow, That Really Was Enchanted With a Rock”,[ii] I try and give a sense of what inner exploration is and where it can lead to in relation to its transcendence over material process. Here my direction isn’t towards the outer world or inner worlds but inside to the well of soul, our center.

The following inner journey took place around 1989 when I was 28 I believe, some months after the spiritual experience I mention above, before the net I might add, and before I aligned myself with any spiritual tradition or teachers, when I was exploring on my own and not a part of any group involved with spirituality or dreaming. It took place over the course of a week.

It’s night, and I’m alone on the football field I played on in junior high school, and I become lucid. Since I have an avid practice in waking life of meditation and pranayama, I decide to try it in dream, and so I begin to sit down in a meditative posture, but as I do a monster jumps at me out of nowhere, it’s eyes wide gyros spinning madly. It scares the hell out of me, and I wake myself up.

During the next day I got the suspicion that the monster was trying to prevent me from meditating, and so I resolve in my next lucid dream to follow through with it no matter what I may encounter to try and prevent me. I was just exploring dream and didn’t even have a destination in mind, at this point just trying to find doorways of dream to go deeper.

I’m in a huge motor pool, in a part of it where there aren’t many vehicles parked, and I see in the distance the buildings of the motor pool change colors, one color just following another, and the anomaly triggers lucidity, as an anomaly in dream often can. I remember my intention and sit down to meditate, but as I do I hear a blaring horn and seeing coming directly at me a mac truck. I settle into my resolve not to be scared out of the sitting and continue to settle into meditating. When the truck gets to me, up until that point being everything that looks and sounds real enough to run me over, it vanishes, doing that over me, its form rapidly turning into nothing as my eyes close and I see nothing. Instead of going into another dream or waking up in my bed as often happens when a dream goes blank, I remain in the blank but have a sense of falling. This blank falling state I’ve known many times, since it so often occurs in transitions from one dream to another or to waking consciousness. The difference here is that I see I can stay there, am not being captured by another dream image or by waking. I remain in that falling place for perhaps a minute or more, and then I open my eyes and am awake in bed, the falling state itself being so close to waking all you have to do is open your eyes.

I thought about that falling place for a couple of days or so, during which time I encountered a phrase in an English translation (prose) of Hesiod’s Theogony that speaks of a hammer that takes nine days to reach Tartarus, and while I didn’t believe that falling place I had found led to Tartarus, I believed Hesiod talks about inner journeys in-between the lines sometimes, using symbol imagery to describe it. The phrase led me to the idea that the falling place led to a destination, but what that was I had no earthly idea. I made the determination next time I became lucid in dream to get into and remain in that falling place until I arrived somewhere.

I don’t remember the context of the dream the next time I was lucid within one, only that I get into the falling place via meditation and remain there, knowing if I just open my eyes I’m awake in bed. Something happens to my sense of time, and I don’t how long I’ve been falling in that blank space. I almost reflexively open my eyes, and become cross with myself for not continuing onward. I decide next time to count as I travel in that blankness.

The next lucid dream, which doesn’t happen that same night but does the next night, I again get into the falling place and began counting the seconds like I learned to do out loud parachuting out of aircraft in the army, counting then to only 4 seconds until the chute opened, or was supposed to. I count to know how long I’m falling, but here the counting goes on and on, and again I lose the sense of time, losing count as well, and, though I resist the strong sense to open my eyes, I cannot shake the growing sense of terror that’s welling up inside me, like I’m falling into a bottomless pit from which I shall never again return. Then I hear both my mother and sister as though they’re standing over me, pleading with me in voices I know are their most fearful and most sincere, to open my eyes because I’m being tricked, and I’m in the hospital in a coma. The sense is that if I don’t listen to them I will never return to them, or the outer world either for that matter. It so happens that my greatest attachments at that time are my mom and sister, and my greatest fear is going into a coma during inner exploration, not to some never ending dream-state experience but to a blank alone like this darkness. I open my eyes and am not in the hospital in a coma but am simply awake in bed, nobody there but me. I see quickly that I’ve been fooled and resolve next time to go all the way until I get there, still not knowing where there is but more assured it’s somewhere significant because something very smart is trying to keep me from getting there.

Whether it’s the next night I fall again I’m not sure, but it’s very soon after the above dream, though it’s not exactly a dream but inner travel, and I don’t remember the process of becoming lucid or getting into the falling state, only that I’m there and determined to go all the way. I lose sense of time again, but there is no welling terror, or any real fear, and no intelligence trying to stop me. I have no idea how long I fall, but it’s a long time to my notion of time. Suddenly with a great shock I arrive somewhere. It’s like I’m immersed in a limitless ocean of a whole other order of existence, one formless save for identical small objects sparsely floating around that appear somewhat like half-notes or arches, and though they appear to be objects, I feel them as beings. Outer space would be a way to give some picture of what this ocean is like, but there are no celestial bodies or blackness, though it is dim. It’s lit but with a different kind of light than we know here, giving the space a glow that’s now glowing in me, and I feel the warmest and safest I’ve ever felt, and this place is so familiar to me, like I’ve been here many times but only have forgotten about it. An immense force is rushing through me, and I feel its intense vibration in every part of me, but it’s so comfortable I only want to bask in it. It seems there’s a sound to the place, which I feel in me as well as without, but it’s not sound as we know it that you hear with your ears. It’s like the sound silence would make if it made any sound if that makes any sense. I see myself floating towards one of the little arches, and I unwillingly go through it, hoping I don’t harm it by doing that, but I see it on the other side of me unchanged. Then, as abruptly as I found myself there, I find myself out, and I come awake in my bed and marvel at how I could come up immediately from such a deep place, although I am still glowing from its warmth and power.

This experience did not change my life, was only significant in that I knew I’d reached some place of spirit in me because the experience there was so different than anything else I’d ever experienced in existence, making spirit the only word that fit. At the time I didn’t think of it as the soul or its well within us, was not at the time even considering the soul as something that existed in us a destination I might explore. That interpretation was to come years later when I read both my teachers, the Mother and Sri Aurobindo, describe the journey down to our soul center as a journey downwards through a long, dark tunnel and as a journey very difficult, and very rare, to accomplish. This is that journey in my own personal terms, an inner journey that has come to be more important and singular to the results of my inner exploration over the course of time, not because my teachers have said such and such, but because it was the moment when my conscious connected with my soul, and that’s revealed itself to be its importance, and that in itself, the strengthening of that soul connection, or really what you’re doing, surfacing the soul, has been and continues to be a journey much like this one to the well of soul, which took stages, days, to complete, wasn’t somewhere I got to in one go, was somewhere I had to overcome my greatest attachments and greatest fears to get to, where there was something[iii] very intelligent that knew me like a book, something hostile and tricky (a hostile being, a demon in common parlance, attached to my life), trying to stop me from going to, which was a destination where I went out of this material existence into another kind of being, into Spirit.

What put this experience, and others I was to have that followed, into a context of finding of the soul is, as I’ve described, the teachings of Mother and Sri Aurobindo, which I was to encounter and immerse myself in, starting on a visit to Auroville, India, in 1995. And I’m not speaking of just the writings and talks they’ve left behind, but of inner contact with them and with my soul (or psychic being, who they point you to more than they point to themselves as your guide) when I’m speaking of their help in putting this inner journey into a context of a stage in the journey of finding the soul, help I’m getting in the writing of this article[iv], which has gone through a major rewrite based on their criticisms of the first draft, which had to do with, among other things, not clouding this journey over with descriptions here of experiences that didn’t happen during it but relate to it, things I’ve written about elsewhere or will write at some point.

In an earlier article, one actually published and not just posted on my blog, I describe other experiences in relation to the soul and put the above journey in the cosmology of the Supramental Yoga and as well the cosmology of science if it would ever consent to see beyond the material envelope and the cosmos, but the article’s not just a regurgitation of their teachings. It’s based on descriptions of personal experience that confirm, for me at least, the yoga’s cosmology.[v]

If in this inner journey I describe I did indeed reach my soul center, I by no means experienced its full scope and depth, and I imagine we can go much deeper into it than I did in that very brief baptism. It’s the way with me; I get a taste usually and not a full course dinner. Be that as it may, I didn’t go anywhere anyone else can’t if they have the inner opening to make such journeys, and not everyone does, probably not even most. Though we all have the right to be treated as human beings equally, we are not equal in everything, especially in the most essential thing, which is the development of our soul, and we are all at a different stages of soul development, something too personal and ineffable to set as any standard whereby someone with a more developed soul would be considered more important or superior than someone with a less developed soul or would be treated better or even afforded more respect. These are things of soul, not ego. It depends on how developed your soul is, your psychic being, as to whether you have an opening of the inner consciousness to make such journeys as I describe. If you don’t, you probably aren’t too interested in making them anyway, since your soul isn’t at that place of contact with your surface self, your ego, and pushing you to.

I will speculate though, whether your soul’s nudging you some from behind the veil or not, whether your psychic being is mature enough to do that, that you’ve made this inner journey many, many times, especially when you were a child, make it now though more rarely, but have no recollection of it at all. It’s difficult enough just to remember our nightly dreams. How much more so what we experience in dreamless sleep. You’ve made the journey when you wake up feeling like you slept like a log, like you’ve been replenished, like you had your batteries recharged. It would stand to reason that, if it’s true we are souls that have put on this material envelope akin to the way a deep sea diver dons a diving suit, or however you want to look at it, we’d need to come up to the surface every so often to get more air and sustenance, what we do when we go down into our center, the well of soul.

When you make journey consciously, however, you connect your conscious with the inmost deeps, make the hard link whereby your soul can come out more from behind the curtain of thoughts and dreams and be your guide on the way. On the way to God the soul would say.




[iii] I had met this ‘personal’ demon some weeks before, not its true form but one it wore in its manipulations of me as a small child. That experience I describe in an article posted on our blog: I’ll only mention here that it was on that first visit to Auroville that I met its true form, a story I have yet to write.

[iv] Writing this I was reading Notes on the Way, a compilation of talks by Mother. Though perhaps only a disciple would see this as a synchronicity, I feel it’s no accident I read the following immediately after making the revisions: “The other day when Z read to me his article, it was neutral (vague gesture at mid-height), all the while neutral, than all of a sudden, a spark of Ananada; it was this which made me appreciate it.” It might add to the possibility of synchronicity if I said that Douglas had just bought me the book that morning in our weekly sitting at their Samadhi. Notes on the Way, courtesy of Sri Aurobindo Ashram Trust 1980, 2002.


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

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 


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

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


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
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 


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 


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 


(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

*          *          *          *          *          *          *

[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