Tuesday, July 27, 2010

Sunday, July 25, 2010

Your Thing to Ponder (Big.Blunt.Easily Fooled)

I've posted this before, elsewhere. If you've read it already, read it again. If you've not read it, read it. This is mostly meant for the losers who get into psycho-babble battles on YouTube over what yoga is and isn't. My opinion is that nobody knows, you all sound ridiculous, and maybe you should spend more time constructively not trying to figure it out instead of hunched over your computer...


Meditations On a Small Bird's Skull


Trying to think inside
its idiom no knife no fork and no 
memento mori:     "skull"
clobbers this
lighter-than-air variation
on the egg. Whoever lived here deftly
entered anonymity:
membrane of bone,
koan you could sit and write inside and then
go out to a movie (Hitchcock's comedy
"The Birds") and then come home and
fall asleep and dream the rite of spring and then
wake up and forget. Everyone
who reads would like to be read, sometime,
by the music. I have read or dreamt
that indigo buntings in their nests
gaze into the stars and that the stars
gaze back into them,
mapping their language on each tiny roof.
Planetaria. This may be
the death of distance and its children.
If, like me, 
you feel the urge to stick the sharp end
in your ear
(hoping for some
secret of the air)
be careful. 
We are big and blunt and easily fooled and know few
of the fine points of translation.


-Don McKay

Thursday, July 22, 2010

Still False

People are fucking stupid. 


I went through a brief training at the beginning of the week. As ever in training, you see the best and the worst in people. 


The ego trippers! They think they're...I actually don't know what they're thinking. It's not that they think they're special; we ALL think we're special but we're not all ego trippers. It's difficult to describe, but it's more like they allow their desire to explode into ultimate consciousness - whatever that is - to make them false.


Maybe I'm ego tripping here, but I, at this point in my life, can smell a person who leaves yoga on their mat or on their blanket, in one room of their home or their favorite studio, in one compartment of their personality, sealed off from life as life is. You're still fake...and you know who you are, and I'm certainly not speaking about all of you. You know who you are. 


You're the opposite of the people who initially make me feel slightly standoffish but quickly reveal my reflection, the parts of me that think they're so cool, the smudgy parts of me...you're the opposite. Initially, you don't arouse any negativity in me, but then at some later time you say or do something that proves me wrong in the opposite way of the above mentioned people.


I'm going to attempt to be as vague and non-incriminating as possible with this next bit, although the individual in mind deserves outright bashing. But oh well. Here we go, in vagueness. 


When did you develop the ability to read minds? I don't care how long you've been doing whatever it is you do - ten, twenty, thirty, ad nauseam years don't make you a mind reader. I don't care. You don't know. You can't know. Don't assume. 


More stupid than what you're assuming is the sheer ignorance of believing that because you've never seen it, it must not exist. Really?! That's almost as good as covering your eyes so the monster can't see you. The crowning ignorance: I'm not touched by it, so it doesn't exist and I won't ever come in contact with it. 


?!?


Pathetic. But, uh, om namah shivaya. 


(Photo property of THEBURRED2 2010. Check her out.)

Saturday, July 17, 2010

What Should Be Seen

I experience an interesting exhaustion: exhaustion of all my unnecessary shit.


I'm arriving - certainly not in some big way or even with certainty, just arriving - at That. It is simple to be simple. Classical, spiritual, holistic...just yourself. Just nature. Hiding deep in the woods, high up on a rock slab, medicated by the emptiness and quietness and naturalness and even heaviness that has nothing to do with process and forced peace, I said that the only great intelligence is nature - nothing to do with idealistic tree-huggy forced-smiley stuff, either. 


The most "at one" humans I can think of are those who - maybe like me - grew weary of trying to be seen and weary of not being themselves (natural), and so decided to go back into the flow, dive back into the pattern, become real again, and thus become what should be seen. Nature. That. It's fine to say it's about the journey and not the destination: that's perfectly true. But the trick of that trick is realizing that the journey offers nowhere to go. 


And then you start arriving, at the wisdom you knew but didn't know you had as a child. The extra - no, natural - sense that makes you recognize That in the way the sun falls on a patch of dirt, the rhythm in "little" things, the dance under the skin of things. 

Your Thing to Ponder (Not Pollyanna)

~ Short, sweet, and real. From an interview with Seane Corn, who first got me into this messy, uncomfortable, wonderful nonsense of yoga. ~


Q: So yoga isn't all love, peace, and happiness?


A: To me, you are not doing your job if you haven't provoked someone or something. Yoga is braver than that and more assertive than that. It's not Pollyanna-ish.



Friday, July 16, 2010

Your Thing to Ponder [Close your eyes and believe]

~ I forgot about this, and rediscovered it today in a fit of lowness. Enjoy. ~

Close your eyes and believe
Get the focus off yourself, there is power giving in to it all
Letting ourselves become puppets
Fulcrums between powers
With the focus on the future being potential
And the past as inconsequential
Free to roam where and with whom we please
No peace, but peace as the goal...an irony of comfort.
The collective emotions in a group of friends
Defining all that ever is or was complete
A forum for superpower
With intent of acknowledgment
But leading a life trying to ignoring it
Holding the power without using it,
Portraying or articulating it,
But suffering through self imposed ignorance
Suffering for the future, suffering because of the past
Suffering to suffer.

Mirrors reflect suffering
Suspended in an infinite present
Accepting pain by welcoming it.
Always the one, always the son
Constantly being found
Seeking the same god within
In the eyes of everyone
Beneath the layers and facades are sparks of recognition
One is seen by all
All fingers of matter vibration infinite
Communicating the vastness of fractal games
Through acknowledgement of self in others
Faith used to suspend suffering
Trying to let flow the ebb tide,
Like night in order to achieve day.
The intent is the same
The honor of being alive
While castles crumble under the weight of commitment

The doctrines of metaphor, begging the questions,
The mighty masturbators
Stroking the ego, reinforcing my ego
We find others for the sake of them knowing it was us who found it in them
We become transient possessions of gods and devils
Devils knowing pain of being separated from gods
Sympathy. Pain. Death. Salvation.
...A vehicle that disowns the self in order to achieve it again
The mighty paradox, infinity
A ceiling for humanity
The paradox is the paradox
Constantly defining itself through the exploitation of self
There is only one, defining two, being three
The two being defined and externalized objectively
Perpetually starting the sequence again,
And engine of perfect power
Constantly refining the emotional landscape of all physical eternity.
The channel of "I"

-Devin Townsend

Wednesday, July 14, 2010

Let Them Be That Way

~ Thanks to L. for igniting this stream. ;) ~

Symptoms like running your mouth when you have nothing to really say, the requirement for a "social" personality on top of your true personality, etc. stem from peoples' inherent fear of silence. People hate silence because it leaves them alone with their mind, and people, in general, have grown very far apart from their essential selves; their mind, their thoughts, their emotions all become these monstrous things they can't face. Silence mimics death a little, too, and most people are afraid of death - in both the literal and abstract sense. People fear anything the can't predict and control.

Society and its monochrome henchmen (the people who are very skilled at fitting into a tiny box and enjoy being monochrome) created what we refer to as "the norm", an amalgamation of a trillion things including the acceptableness of ass-kissing, trading one's personality for a nice grey blanket, knowing exactly what lines to feed out and actions to take in order to stay blended inside the herd, doing anything to ensure keeping one's claws tight in one's job, fancy house, awesome car, the spouse one does not love but who provides some twisted leverage on life...all that and anything else you can think of, are little refusals to accept the mortal and animal nature of being a human. Refusal to die.

The person who maintains a personality, maintains the ability to think, speaks when it means something, knows and accepts both sides of nature, sees both sides of nature in herself, looks herself in the face on a regular basis, refuses to freeze life within rules and dogma is dangerous, in a way. This person threatens the safety of the monochrome cover; this person keeps poking holes in the grey blanket, letting the sun and the rain in, damn it. The scared people are forced then to remember what they really are - and secretly, they would love to be free to be what they really are. But that isn't always comfortable, and as long as one retains an attachment to fixed, linear, predictable bullshit, enjoying life without fear isn't possible.

Society as it is today and the people it suckles will make this hard, but remember that you are not obligated, required, or supposed to do ANYTHING but be exactly you and nothing else. The rest of the world can go to the blazes. It will suck, don't get me wrong. I used to get furious and frustrated and hurt by people ostricizing me for not sliding neatly under their little cookie cutter. But eventually I realized that I am not at fault; nothing I do or don't do will change others if they don't WANT to change. It seriously isn't my problem, or yours. Live your life without regard for what people will do or think in response. You are not the weird one.

It's like the now-cliche quote: "Those who matter don't mind, and those who mind don't matter." It is true, despite being overused. Keep that in the back of your brain, and you'll start to develop a sense of humor about all the bullshit. It becomes your little secret, your antidote. And it's not even special or extraordinary - it's just realizing that the bullshit only holds as much sway over you as you allow. I used to bitch a lot about how manipulative people and society can be, how gross they are for taking advantage of people like myself...that got tiresome after a bit, and unnecessary, when I became slightly more honest with myself and found that if it was affecting me, I was, to some degree, allowing it.

Life is just about getting really good at playing this game of recognizing bullshit for what it is and knowing that it's basically just a silly speck of dust. You shake it off. You start to feel like, "What bullshit?" You laugh at it. Sometimes you cry about it, too, but you always come back to knowing it's just a joke, just a stupid dream.

If people are bothered by you behaving like a real human being...good for them. They are stuck in nonsense. Let them be that way.

Monday, July 12, 2010

Your Thing to Ponder (Deeper Under)

Just some poetic snippets from crazy-wise people.

"My teacher told me one thing,
Live in the soul.
When that was so,
I began to go naked, and dance." - Lalla

"You've been walking
The ocean's edge, holding
Up your robes to keep them dry.
You must dive naked under,
And deeper under, a thousand times deeper!" - Rumi

"Out beyond ideas of wrongdoing and rightdoing,
There is a field. I'll meet you there." - Rumi

"I was dead, then alive,
Weeping, then laughing.
The power of love came into me,
And I became fierce like a lion,
Then tender like the evening star." - Rumi

"You do not have to be good.
You do not have to walk on your knees
For a hundred miles through the desert, repenting.
You only have to let the soft animal of your body love what it loves." - Mary Oliver

Saturday, July 10, 2010

Your Thing to Ponder (Take a Hike, Tiny Spermatozoid)

Look for original content when I'm not worrying about my ill father, down with the flu myself, and playing in the rain with a tire gauge.

"The ego is the most erectile part of the body! Taking an entire day to observe everything that goes on there, developing immediate awareness of the spasmodic activities of the ego is a marvelous practice. Lalita Devi often asked me to describe to her in a lot of detail a slice of my life of a few hours. This could take a long time because she wanted to know absolutely everything. She wanted as precise an account as possible of all sensory, emotional, and mental activity. I would then realize how alert the ego really is, and sometimes a mere breeze was enough to make it suddenly surge up again.

"This is why observing the various upsurges of the ego leads to the realization that the sacred tremor can move in and become established once the ego takes a hike, once the body finds its spatial dimension again. We all know how easy it is to provoke someone's ego, how the slightest comment is liable to make it react. The ego is like those mustard jars sold in novelty stores that a devil pops out of when we open the lid. But when we become sensitive to the spherical approach to life, this phenomenon subsides, and then stops.

"Knowing that the ego becomes aroused through criticism as well as through compliments, when we start to hear things without the ego reacting, we have a strange - to say the least - experience of abandoning the body, because this sets off a relaxation of the breath. The effect is curious because we are involved in what we are hearing, but the devil does not spring out of the mustard jar. There are two joint happenings. We feel that this is intended for the ego, but we do not really know where the ego is anymore. The ego has gone for a walk. It will be back later. Maybe it went to take the dog out or to rent a video. Its energy gets lost in the gigantic sphere, like a tiny spermatozoid in infinity, seeking something and finding nothing: he loses his mind and ends up exploding."

Sunday, July 4, 2010

Note to Self

Been awake eight hours, already. Slept (unsoundly) for only about four. But honestly, I feel fine. I'm not tired at 4:30 a.m.; I'm edgy and angry, coming off frustrating nightmares. It feels natural to sit with the crux of dawn, to flow and dance while I'm still untouched, empty. 


The best thing masquerades as the worst thing: feeling like absolute, horrified shit about the surrounding idiocy, the disgusting system, the gross unfairness of everything, of being well and painfully aware of our depth - our inescapable depth - in this dark age. I'm rather young in all of this, so I'm fooled time and again into feeling trapped, hopeless, like a failure. All that hurt, contracted nonsense. 


Of course it's nonsense. But it's also here and now and profoundly obnoxious, and I'd be ridiculous to refuse the consequential emotions. Like I said in a tearful 5:00 a.m. fit: if the state of things doesn't offend you in your absolute core, your essence, you are still wearing some kind of blinders, still lying to yourself. Don't pretend to not hurt when you're hurting, either. It doesn't make you noble or Zen or anything like that. It makes you ridiculous. Don't go "Om Namah Shivayah" when you want to cry and spit. Please. Cry and spit and really feel horrid, then "Om Namah Shivayah", if you want. 


Most of my recent fury stems from things we're all way too familiar with at this point: financial collapse and rampant unemployment and breaking your back and heart for nothing while some inhuman whack job gets off. But I realize that unemployment does not define me; neither will finding work. The hate can't really be about money...or maybe it is? I don't know. But for sure it's hate at how something as stupid as money - paper, metal, and numbers in a computer - holds people down. 


And I guess that's a cute little illusion in itself. Being able to leave this backwater deathtrap of a town and be "independent" will not define me; it does not make me free, same as being where I am does not make me trapped. All of this is a mental trap that society helped me build and that I've done a good, German job of ridiculously solidifying. I am not any of this. 


Still, it's hard, to be so starved for all the beauty and mystery and fun and expansion that this world offers while sitting tied to a make-believe stake with all that life just out of reach. That's an illusion too, right? Right. Yes. In the end, only I limit me. This is yoga, readers. Very twisty. You spend days exhausting yourself wrestling a demon only to find out you made it up...just like the last time you wrestled a dream demon. Yoga is these big, stupid "no fucking duh" moments, over and over and over. 


Try to remember that everything matters and nothing matters. Remember, then know it, in your blood and deeper. Then remember: don't try to know. 


P.S. Don't forget what independence really is, and enjoy what's left of the weekend. Enjoy the summer. I can't stop listening to "Bloodbuzz Ohio" and I'm going to find some unconventional nonsense to get into tonight. Namaste.



Your Thing to Ponder (Gaze Gets Lost)

Incredibly irritated right now. Sorry for the hiatus (not that anyone is reading this, anyway). Hold yourself over on more incomparable crazy wisdom. 


"When you greet me, do not bow before someone who may be what you are not. Even if Shiva were standing there in front of you, never bow before something distant and unattainable; on the contrary, bow before that which links us and which makes us fundamentally alike, which makes Shiva and his companion, Bhairavi, fundamentally no different from you and me. When you bow, bow deeply before the divine which is in ourselves and in this moment, before the divine which has never been separate from us, before the divine which is not found anywhere other than in ourselves, before the divine which we can never get closer to or farther away from, before the inconceivable divine out of which our entire being is fashioned, as the texture of clay out of which we take the form given to us by the potter. As long as you imagine a way which separates you from the divine, you are preparing for lengthy wandering, and this wandering will never end, because the more you think you are approaching the divine, the more it will escape you. 


"Shiva is inconceivable, unattainable, and yet it is impossible to distance yourself from him, because fundamentally you are Shiva. You greet me, you greet the divine which links us like the ground on which we walk, like the sky in which our gaze gets lost."



(If you're going to steal my photos - which I doubt, they aren't that good - at least fucking link me or something...)