Spawn of fantasies Sitting the appraisable Pig Cupid his rosy snout Rooting erotic garbage “Once upon a time” Pulls a weed white star-topped Among wild oats sown in mucous membrane I would an eye in a Bengal light Eternity in a sky-rocket Constellations in an ocean Whose rivers run no fresher Than a trickle of saliva
There are suspect places
I must live in my lantern Trimming subliminal flicker Virginal to the bellows Of experience Colored glass.
this key that unlocks any door is no use to me these shadows made of light are invisible to my eyes and why does asphalt and rubber sound like drawn out sighs i am superficial never get any deeper than the surface of things callings unheard readings not meant for me but I’m so plastic anything applies with everything true no second chance any plan b is now an a a coin flip away from judgment
A high level of unbotheredness about everyday things and clarity about reactive attachments and external opinion
Next:
Living more vividly
Time and time again I get fed up to the max with the mundane. With mediocrity in myself and my world. Lately, I often find I’ve muddled through a perfectly good day. As if I were killing time. Being too sensitive to slight variations in mood or energy and reading them as disincentives to engage in the myriad of pursuits available to me. I also second-think, become distracted and continually discount the beauty of flow in engaging with tasks that, while they may not seem of deep mystical significance, are nevertheless invitations to engage the day and potentiate my time. As nerdy as they may appear, and I’m really judging this from somewhere allegedly more “cool” … these avenues of discovery, learning and exploration are as valid and lead as deeply into the fabric of the world as anything more ostensibly “spiritual.” Know one thing to know all things as a sage once remarked.
So the skillful means here is to engage totally with what I am pursuing without, at least during the course of the day, sidetracking or second-guessing its relevance to the bigger picture. The bigger picture is to live vividly and with flow. Not waiting to be gob smacked by some metaphysical lotto of privileged experience.
Bordertown
I’ve relocated mentally and physically many times in this life. And while I believe, and have confirmed, that wherever we go, there we are; that it’s not so much the location —it’s what we bring with us (or what we leave behind)— there is still value in a locale to elicit dormant capabilities and insights. Be this locale an altered state, a different country, a physical practice or just an excursion beyond the comfort zone.
But there has always been a bordertown on the fringes of consciousness that attracts me like no other. Sometimes it seems I have a whole life there I have forgotten. People I know and things I’ve done that will not be ignored, for long. It’s more home to me in many ways than whatever this place is now where I spend most of my time. The “wall” that’s being politicized currently is an interesting metaphor on how we think we should isolate ourselves from these unruly aspects of being. And where our borders should properly be constructed.
There are several ways to get to bordertown. Dreaming is a big one. And it’s where I often encounter this whole sense of another life I’m living in parallel. But its most powerful aspect is as an overlay, a dimension of this reality. Chroma. And it encourages living a little sideways from the consensual. Through magic, through intent. But most directly through taking a bit of time during the day to sink into the mind and open, with intent, to other ways of touching the world; unfolding an array of internal senses that are feeble in the light and atrophied with neglect. But which show a nuance to reality that enriches the fabric of existence.
Mortality, for example. I’m suspicious of this one. A part of me has absolutely no problem with it however it turns out. Blink out of existence, then who is to worry? Continues? Enjoy the adventure. Why worry either way? I have zero concern about whether or not I’ve adhered properly to some religious doctrine. And zero motivation to leave any sort of legacy or regard to how I might be remembered.
Another part of me is suspicious that previous part might be in denial. Suppressing fear or anxiety by disassociation of outcomes. Yet another part questions the suspicious part with, “so what is your suggestion? worry about it until the inevitable happens anyway? Appreciate the moments?” The appreciation and gratitude strikes a chord. It resonates authentically. And the inevitable breakdown, I’d like to do that with grace. And I’d like it to be a short transition. I’d like to keep my bearings if the adventure continues. And I think it will. That resonates as well.
This leaves me with the recognition that this ending stuff might be huge. That if I carry on oblivious to what’s coming, I might miss some real opportunities and squander a lot of precious resources on things that don’t matter. As long as I can keep the horizon of death in view, it can be a tremendous ally. And as with life so far, I also like to look down the road for clues on how best to prepare. Not to the extent of sacrificing today for tomorrow, but for investing in skills that are handy across contexts.
The skills I think most important here and now, from this vantage, are for one: the ability to let go. I have this baseline of tension that seems to run quite deep. I think it’s built on a bedrock of layers and layers of protective insulation where protection was freezing parts of my being, making pieces rigid to resist impact and hanging on tightly to things I didn’t want to lose or have stolen from my soul. It was building a little fortress to secure a foothold in the world.
To let go of this is to sink in order to fly. In its most physical sense, this is relaxation. In the mind, lightness of being.
The next skillful action, number two: is learning how to sink without panic. Sinking is accepting whatever I am feeling and thinking without trying to “should” it or change it or judging myself for the feeling or thought’s unbidden arising. To start understanding through this the reality of impermanence. Of the temporal nature of selves.
The third skillful means: is to question and review some very old and very deep ways I’ve been contracted to think and feel. By circumstances of my culture and my timeline in evolution. Ways parts of myself have been programmed and how best to leverage parts of myself that are free to help wake up.
Concretely, this means questioning very basic assumptions like: is there any reason to feel upset about anything? How is that useful? And this doesn’t mean trying to be coldly logical about everything, it means questioning how feeling bad, which is certainly not my preference, is used in ways usually not in my best interest. To research what agenda these feelings serve. Because in any given scenario I act more resourcefully without these “triggers.” And I do not subscribe to the belief that we need to be punished, or punish ourselves, in order to behave or be motivated to do good. I have a moral compass without this, thank you. No one has bound me, I want to sustain the realization that I am already free.
As the story goes, there was once a man in India who was leaving his village for good. As he left the village gates he saw a wandering mendicant. These are monks that have given up any fixed residence and wander the world at large under heaven’s providence.
The man ran up to the monk and said:
“I can’t believe it! I just saw you in a dream last night. In it, the Lord Vishnu said tomorrow morning, around 11, you’ll meet this wandering monk!”
“Ah, interesting,” said the monk, “what else did he say?”
“He said if the man gives you a precious stone you will be the richest man in the whole world! Do you have such a stone?!”
“Hmmm, let me see” said the monk as he rummaged around in his robes. “Ah, you mean something like this? Is that what you are thinking?”
He pulled out a diamond the size of a golf ball.
The man holds the diamond in his hand, amazed and asks:
“Could… could I have this?”
“Of course,” said the monk. “I found it in the forest, you’re welcome to it”
The man thanks him profusely and walks away, he has to sit down under a tree he is so giddy and filled with joy. Everything in his life has now changed. Anything he wants is within reach. And he sits dreaming of all the things he can now do. Sits there under that tree until it begins to get dark. As the sun sets, he gets up and heads back around the village and finds the monk sitting under a tree. He hands the diamond back to the monk.
“Could you do me a favor?” the man asks.
“What is that?” replies the monk.
“Could you give me the riches that make it possible for you to give this thing away so easily?”
Got 3 series going in my down time: Black, Deadly Class and Magicians Season 4. Reading: Feeding Your Demons (a Tibetan meditation practice called Chöd) and Implied Spaces
Riffing with the laws of Newtonian physics through code. Physics of motion in particular, functions of forces at play. Studying equations through immersive programming. Ultra casual games and eye mesmers are the theme. Also, novel insights and elicited potentials. Maybe sneaking bits onto facebook’s instant game platform. In the meantime, populating outposts that circumvent the big app stores on clipper ships of emerging tech called Progressive Web Apps; installs on devices’ home screens directly from an indie page.
Attempting to synthesize the sound of a water drop. Or something of a similar signature. Studying its form in sound through the spectral lenses of frequencies and time. The last time I did this was with crickets. And with throat singing. Long overdue, I love the kaleidoscopic microscope of visual FFT. And sculpting waves.
Collaborating on a mobile application for the hearing impaired, which works across mesh networks. These are created ad hoc, in small groups, and spurn reliance on upstream “providers” and infrastructure for peer communications.
Regimes of microdosing and nootropics. And developing practices to open communication channels with the inland sea of subconscious, perhaps the deeps beyond. There are other things on my mind, but I haven’t posted in a bit. And Hogwarts is back in session, winter break is over, witches.
“The moment I found out magic was real. That was the moment that I discovered who I am.”
