A Shaman at the Andover Library

Before the internet went viral

descending toward the digital–electric hell of virtual realities in which the mind keeps playing with itself

and love is left abandoned at the altar like a guru gone unheeded and the vows of realization left completely unintended,

I would browse the local library,

which of course was just another stage of hellish A.I. reality the mind has played since mind evolved from swamps in molecules of being,

and there within said library, I met a homeless man who read the newspapers and whispered softly to himself

about the wildness of the world

and how the shamans like himself no longer could assist in mind's complex descent from sky to ceiling—

no one listens anymore, he said to me while noticing I was eavesdropping on his private conversation with the world.

No one listens anymore.

Reflexive Prophecy

Love is the turn

and self-awareness is the return

but the digital is the wild mind’s shot

at double or nothing—

from my lips to the cloud’s ear.

Neurological science is following a dead end

so the digital-electric looks to create

a brand new virtual reality.

Stop in the name of love—

return to forever.

Playing with Lalla G:105. Awake

In the waning moonlight, the madwoman rises

to soothe her pain in the light of that Supreme.

Lalla Lalla the beloved awakens!

And all vitalities merge in a shimmering lake.

Playing with Lalla G:13. Difference

You have six and I have six;

now tell me Blue-throated Shiva,

what exactly is the difference here?

Oh, never mind, I totally know.

You are the master of your six

and make them accolades of immortality.

But I’ve been enslaved by mine

making them blemishes of personality. 

Playing with Lalla G: 95. Nandi

How do I manage five elements, ten vital energies,

and eleven functions of senses, expressions, and mind?

They have emptied out this container and run away!

If only they had pulled upon a single lead together,

the happy bull of Shiva would not have gone astray.

Playing with Lalla G:102/103. Way

I, Lalla, wished only to be a natural lovely cotton flower 

but the cleaning woman split me and the carding man shred me 

and the spinner then conditioned me to fine thin thread upon its wheel—

and lastly I was stretched upon the weaver's loom 

and woven into finished useful worldly cloth.

Only when the washing one turns me over stone,

and scrubs me with hard earth and soap,

and the tailor works its scissors on me, piece by piece, 

am I, Lalla, open to the way of that supreme truth.

Playing with Lalla G:7. Who

Lord Shiva! I didn’t realize precisely what I am.

I merely thought I was this substance of a body.

You are me and I am you. O that I never knew!

Asking who are you and who am I undoes that doubt of who.

Playing with Lalla G:8. Thou

Shiva the Auspicious One or Vishnu the Demon-Killer

or Buddha the Conqueror or the Lotus-Born Lord Brahma,

whatever your designation is as That, please alleviate

this unwell woman from the sickness which is this world,

in the name of Thou or Thou or Thou or Thou or Thou.

Playing with Lalla G:18. Ashes

Let them cast a thousand curses at this naked woman.

Their pointed words will never touch my heart.

I am devoted to the innate and annealing truth of Shiva.

Nothing but polishing comes from throwing ashes on a mirror.

Playing with Lalla G:83. Release

I've seen a wise man die of hunger.

And leaves fall in winter even with the slightest wind.

I’ve seen a fool beat his cook.

And Lalla waits for love of an absurd world to let go.

Playing with Lalla G:108. "Drop it”

This sack of sweetness gets heavier

as the shoulder strap loosens and drops.

The road before me appears crooked and lost.

O how can I carry this burden any further?

The liberating words of the guru keep falling

hard on my shoulders with blistering loss.

Ah but this flock of senses has no shepherd!

O how can I carry this burden any further?

Playing with Lalla G: 67. Riverboat

Lightly, lightly, I am sighing for you Soul.

You have lost your mind upon a Ship of Fools!

The shadow of an anchor cannot hold you there

and yet, dear me, you've lost the current of my self.

Playing with Lalla G:41. Breathing

From which four winds did I arrive

and what passageway was taken? 

With what wind do I go

and by which passage leave? 

Here I waited for my vital life instructions—

for empty breath has little value.

Playing with Lalla G:106. Sleep

Asleep, confused, I dreamt I was a riverboat and being
towed across the ocean by a single strand of some belief.

I sang O Shiva will you hear me; will you help me in my crossing?

And then I dreamt the sea was seeping through this clay container

like some precious sand that's falling through an hourglass.

I sang O Shiva will I have the time to get back home to you?

Or do I sink before I see we are one sea and be awake?

my playful transcreation of Grierson's translation & commentary no.106
of Lalla (Lal Ded) while also utilizing those of Hoskote, Barks, and Kak

Playing with Lalla G:98. Coin

They say we arrive in this world 

by a way that is not the way. 

You can’t take it with you of course, 

so only by selling my soul to the ferryman 

do I cross the river to the land of karmic rebirth.

O, but with Shiva's name I'm suddenly unborn

to see there is no ferryman—

and no way that isn’t the way.

my playful transcreation of Grierson's translation & commentary no.98 
of Lalla (Lal Ded) while also utilizing those of Hoskote, Barks, and Kak

Inner Monologue on Spiritual Economics

Western paradox—you can't give it away—if it doesn't cost, no one wants it—if you give it to them anyway, they’ll pay anyway, and resent it!

There is no mendicant tradition in the west—there is only homelessness and social welfare—everything personal is a monetary transaction.

Giving something away in the west implies an economic status of homelessness and welfare—not a spiritual status of mendicant and householder.

Those who automatically trash the unfortunate economic side of spirituality in the west misunderstand the hard facts of a materialist west.

I'm a nobody giving away a book & already i can see the associations involved in the transaction. Nobody wants to be accused of homelessness.

Re-evaluate the associative values of said book, he said, working out on twitter an experience he had last night, $7 richer but nothing more.

So Chopra has it right! Disregarding absolute quality of teachings, he is the mendicant allowing householders to fund his spiritual research.

And the scientific guru-basher has it wrong—not only is its higher technical language occluding in itself but its economics are materialist.

Mendicant-householder economics is a spiritual one, benefiting both parties—the mendicant in research and the householder’s instant karma.

Market Square Bakehouse Vortex Sutra

in memory of Isabel Van Merlin's Merrimac Mic

Around an emptiness of absolute identity is swirling river thunderstorms of voices emanating from the lightning strikes of mystical intent

engendering an eye above a traffic circle where the poets talk in tongues and utter stories like the secret caves of France or China

where a woman staring at the wall is seeing through the vehicles of space and time discerning all is consciousness

and in this consciousness reflecting only in this consciousness is self-awareness of the self intending self-awareness of the great unknown

and now the known-unknown and nothing else is known O Vishnu Shiva Shakti Krishna Ishvara Brahma Vishnu thank you thank you thank you

I am I within the eye of voices speaking from their heart of hearts within the bakehouse of this LOVE & WISDOM, Love & Wisdom, love & wisdom

Journal of the Known-Unknown

Mind alone is small-minded.

Mind with heart is mindful.

Heart alone is being.

Neither mind nor heart is real.

God is a name

for the known unknown.

Knowing the name

isn’t knowing the unknown.

Intent is to the universe

as evolution is to mind;

and self-awareness is to self—

being is transcendent

as the known-unknown

enlightens any

shadow of a doubt.

Journal of Texts and Meditation

Scientific terminology is yet 

another esoteric conceptual framework 

replacing the natural metaphor 

for an abstruse technical one—

don't fool your self.

Many kinds of metaphorical

tools are used in personal

deconstruction but only

one is used in realization—

being.

Rather than employing

metaphors for higher truth,

such scientific speech pretends to be

a higher language in and of itself—

the new religion and its scientific priests!

Meet the new medium—

same as the old message.

Journal of the Universal Unknown

Personal existence is not viable—

only the universal unknown is.

The polarities of personal existence are

homelessness and empire—

within its interior spectrum hide

countless lives of quiet desperation.

There’s no political, medical or social cure

for personal existence other than

personal deconstruction and

Self-realization—

being the unknown.

Wisdom is the fire

and love is the heat—

burn baby burn!

The Map of Empire

The original and only sin is selling one's empirical experience to the empire of belief. See through the fear! There's one western empire; truth is mathematically eliminated. There are several eastern empires; truth lives in-between the lines. 

Most Buddhism etc is as much a tool of empire as Christianity. There's just more empires in the east for truth to hide. Most westerners get lost in the empires of the east. If it isn't experiential, it's still the empire. The west doesn't know the east is playing and the east doesn't know the west means business. 

Western fear is death as eastern fear is rebirth. Undying and unborn is the universal light of truth. It's just a part of the conspiracy until proven otherwise. If it isn't confirmed by scientific observation of one's own experience, it's just more hearsay. If the empire of social conditioning is untrustworthy, who can you trust but your unconditioned self? Being. Krishna. Christ. I am! 

The Song of Burning Driftwood

Breathing on kindling does nothing 

until there’s a spark—

and when the flames are rising, 

breathing is nothing but the fire’s own intake.

Consequently, mistaking effect for cause

is the prime mover of ignorance

and the essential stuff of paradox.

Around & around & around

the driftwood circles in the reedy shallows—

until the current of intent transports the flotsam unerringly to sea.

An Epistle to All Performers

The world is the nightmare of not understanding

it’s all just a dream

—deconstruction is the only Olympic competition

—self-realization is the ultimate scientific mythology

—absolute reality is otherwise thought to be unknown

where love is our great intergalactic pastime.

Play!

The New Book of Revelations: 2. Being

The world is neither symptom nor disease and its divisions can't be cured nor be investigated by any worldly means,

be they scientific, philosophical, political, religious–ritual, or humanistic. No egoic effort will succeed.

For the world is just a fragment of the process by which intent to know myself has come into this Being,

first descending to a dark objective universe of matter and developing a mind identifying solely with one separate object

and in space and time with no effort of the mind or any other object see myself within this great reflexive mirror of intent.

This is the grand heroic story of the individual in seeing through the world of matter and the mind

by following the permeating pure intent of self-awareness, not primordial memory of body or the ego.

Light is always light although to see itself there is this matter of reflection.

The New Book of Revelations: 1. First I

In an unknown vision there is I, like the space of open sky. That I is absolutely all in all subjective, not an object of a great blue heron in the clarity of I.

But almost fourteen-billion years ago in time of mind but nonexistent in that empty sky of I, there is intent to know myself, the pure awareness of the noumenal-only noumenon,

without phenomena of any mindstuff galaxies and constellations like andromeda or sagittarius, or spirit animals and other totem owls and foxes, or the superstring of all symphonic musical dualities,

that I which I name Shiva here. Within an unknown Vishnu, Shiva has spontaneous Shakti of intent to know this Shiva. And this Shakti in a sudden revelation comes to Krishna

being which the mind hears as a bang in echoing of nonexistent space and time for I know I, and nothing else, this self-awareness of an I, an eagle’s eye within a sky without an eagle flying by.

There’s only I aware of I. So Shiva says one word—let Shakti say the words to bring your story into being, all the interstates and manufacturing the empire of illusion, me and you for two in Krishna.

The Divination of I Am

O God save me from religion. O Buddha protect me from all philosophy. O Universe deliver me from scientific theories. O I Am is the only emperor of all ice cream.

Words run deep. Believing in their surface meaning is shallow. Poetry swims in the deep end. Prophecy dives. It has nothing to do with an imagined future. The prophet uses each word to point to the source of all words—now. And the first word is—I am.

Poet or prophet? Matter or consciousness? Science believes in its myth. Prophecy mythologizes all belief. The scientist is the new priest. Shiva is the only prophet. In the beginning was the Word and the Word was I-am.

Shakti is the way to Shiva and Shiva is the way to Vishnu. The prophet must live in a virtual reality, the hermitage of one's doing. All bad habits began as the best Way thinkable. The world is the primal habit. Seeing through the world is self-realization, not stopping it.

One second of self-realization is worth fourteen billion years of evolution—don't undersell your self to Maya. But if you must undersell yourself for you and yours, keep your self alive. Keep dancing in some way. It's either dance or die. Transformation or belief. Jesus doesn't live in a photograph—or shroud.

If poetry swims and prophecy dives, revelation breathes water. Postmodernism is this world's prophecy but Shakti is always the revelator. The transformer. Experience. Nature. Now. I am... That. There is nothing like it. After revelation is silence. I am speechless. That.

Forgiveness first. It's neither heaven nor hell. It's just one side of the river that has no sides. After the necessities, further. Everything on earth is sunlight looking for itself. All religions believe in a way. And will die for the idea of it. Being is the way. Unborn.

Scientifically. Do i have experiential proof of being born? Has death been proved experientially? No, birth and death have not been proved experientially. Using the scientific method itself, all I really know is I am. Case closed. Being open clear free.

So be until otherwise. Being is easy. Try imagining not being. Like science fiction. If a tree falls, does the earth hear it? I am is the only scientific knowledge. Everything else is just an unproven theory. Truth may not be practical but it is experiential.

Deep sleep is I before me. Good night.

Rivers Prayer

O goddess of the rivers

your home is of the sea,

but Son still walks within

this shady pleasant valley

beneath this clear and perfect

liberating open sky—

O Shiva please protect

me with the light of I.

The Book of Citizen Shiva

The world is just the natural result of living

in the dividing mechanism of the mind.

So trying to fix the world is like

yelling at the theater screen

urging some citizen Cain

to see it’s all about the rosebud.

O Shiva,

how many times do I have to tell you

turn that damned projector off!

The Gospel of Being

One’s world is a construction of thought 

requiring continuous habitation 

and constant maintenance 

or the entire fantasy all falls down. 

It’s worker bees and their queen belief! 

But self-awareness is the honey of evolution. 

So be and enjoy.

1 Apocryphon with 11 Ways of Looking at Intent

The veil between illusion and intent is 

thin tonight.

Dividing intent, 

suffering is the push 

and desire is the pull.

Effort is ego.

Surrender to intent.

Trying to sleep is insomnia;

going to sleep is absolute intent.

In the divided human hands of misguided Shakti,

a nuclear bomb is just intent playing with itself.

Neither intelligent design nor natural selection

but realizational intent of self.

These are the four directions:

parent, intent, process, child.

Name them gods.

Reflexively,

intent closes the I

opening two eyes

to see with a third eye

that I am.

After seeing through the world

and aligning with intent,

one’s insight enters warp speed.

Resting in the realizational intent of being.

Shiva Shakti Krishna.

I-am.

Warm November sun in Pleasant Valley—

cereal smell of fallen leaves—

half moon northern sky—

great blue heron falls to shore—

pure intent sparkles in the river.

Shiva's Song of Self-Realization

I am. 

These words are timeless 

yet appear to take approximately 

fourteen billion years to say them—

but the world is just the words gone lost 

within their saying. Stop this moment,

listen to yourself and know the universe for what you are,

this sudden silent knowing that I am.

Mapping Genesis to Revelations with Commentary

In an unknown Vishnu

is the zero Shiva

and the infinite reflexive Shakti

     of a Kali ying

     and Annapurna yang

creating one resplendent Krishna

and his chorus of ten-thousand inspirational devoted Gods.

Then empire kills the bhakta—

science kills the jnana—

kalifornication kills all tantra—

soon monsanto kills the soma—

light is always killing light—

this is the deep black hole of pure awareness

or enlightenment.

Maya is like western medicine—her side effects are endless. The light of consciousness is filtered by the color of a thought and so we cry. Illusion and realization are the two faces of the holy spirit. Direct path is realizing all intelligence is artificial except I-am. Evolution is prologue to the twenty-first century. One way or another, A.I. sees through itself, whether fiction or science fiction. Scientific materialism is just a way of finding more gods to name than the original ten-thousand. To practice is human. To be, divine. Last words? Deconstruct the known—be the unknown. For we are the holy quaternity of Shiva, Shakti, Christ, Picasso.