Sunday, October 27, 2013

The Supernal Mirror

The pure empathic wisdom which reflects the world as it is, is the perfect mirror at the foundations of Consciousness.  With it we scry hidden realms, hidden spaces, hidden beings, and hidden meanings, those things which have been called "things in themselves."  The inherent clarity of the pure mirror reflects spectra of the seen and unseen.

Wednesday, October 9, 2013

The Advent of Utopia Hoax, Hysteria, Hucksters

I think of the previous Aeon of Pisces and its predominant christian paradigm as a gross-material metaphor of the current Aeon of Aquarius.  The inception of the paradigm was not exoteric, but esoteric; I believe that the true, original essence of the mystery christ-cult is to be found in its collection of apocrypha, the rejected material.  The rejected material was labeled as heresy and hoax by the Council of Nicaea, and discarded to eternal oblivion.  Some of the early mystery-cult was eschatologically based, and as the centuries rolled, their anticipation of the return of the Son of Man and the advent of the Kingdom of God had to be interpreted, redirected, and revalued.

Today, the same pattern prevailed yet again for those who had anticipated a great change on December 21, 2012, who are perhaps still reeling from the aftermath.  Was there some kind of planetary emancipation, renewed self-understanding, rapture, salvation, sign, and so on? Not really.  It was just any other day plus paranoia, hype, spiritual gatherings, and anticipation. And parties.

But was it all just a bullshit hoax, hyped-up flim flam?  Yes and no.  Kernels of truth are often cloaked in shit.  You have to have the jeweler's eye of spotting the sparkling gem in the ore.  The shit aspect of the eschaton-event was the mundane, gross interpretation, viz., the idea that something big and spectacular was going to happen.  That's the bullshit.  After all, wasn't it emphasized time and again by the authentic seers, that the event was supposed to be a transformative portal? If you have bumped up a transcendent notch in your inner evolution, if the event aroused an aspiration to awaken, then the mission was accomplished. Utopia would have made its advent, uneventfully, quietly, privately, secretly.  Esoterically.   

Don't go seeking without, saying "Lo here lo there."  Wasn't there some kind of logion like that from an ancient writ?  Utopia is within.  It always was.  Trees don't emerge out of thin air, they grow from seeds.  Tiny little insignificant seeds.  Buried in soil.  And sometimes, the more shit there is in the soil, the healthier the tree will grow.  Reflect on this, resonate, and you too will enter the gates of Utopia.  



Je suis condamné à être libre. (J.P. Sartre)

I was going to post a video of a live performance of the song "Freedom" by Jimi Hendrix, and it got removed from YouTube due to copyright infringement.  Ironic, but not surprising. People blindly believe they are free, but they usually have no idea what they're talking about.

'Freedom' and 'liberty' are impressive words, they are dramatic words.  They are motivational words. But their meanings and implications are never thought out.  They evoke ideological ranting and heightened emotions, but the concepts are without substance.

What is freedom?  It certainly doesn't fall under the perverted idea of corporate deregulation, or sociopathies such as despotism, absolutism, hedonism, anarchy, and so on. The relative concept of freedom is freedom in contrast to bondage of some kind.  A person in shackles is not free.  A person behind bars is not free. A person addicted to substances is not free.  A person burdened with debts is not free. And so on. But aside from the relative, contrastive, and obvious understanding of freedom, can it be defined in a short sentence or two?  Is it about boundlessness, limitlessness? Is it about having no constraints whatsoever? Not even reality itself is without constraints, which you could even call self-imposed. Order emerges out of Chaos because constraints have become imposed on formless, nonlinear behavior of phenomena. Random fields of quanta are "free" in their randomness, but order manifests in macro forms. Hence freedom implies, necessarily for human beings, some kind of limitation within which creative movement can take place.  

So if you make the choice to collapse a random field of pure quantum potential and make it actual, that is your freedom.  You do it every breathing moment. You create, and bring to pass, much like reality itself, all within a well structured Totality. That is your freedom.  If that doesn't sound grandiose enough, dramatic enough like the Statue of Liberty, step back a little, take a deep breath, and dive even deeper.   

Tuesday, October 8, 2013

A Strange, Brief Acquaintance

I'm writing this brief post sort of as a confession, and as an apology.  I'm writing one specific person, who lives in my town.  

I'm a translator who has translated over fifty DVDs of Japanese cinema, and lots of them are available online on Netflix, etc.  Translators don't get a lot of credit, but it's always nice to read raving reviews about the "great" and "superb" etc. translation.  I translate because it's an aspect of my profession, and not because I'm a fan.  I'm strictly a professional translator. Once the movie is finished, it's out of sight and out of mind, and I move on to the next task at hand.  True, I've liked a few movies here and there.  I especially liked the series "Sleepy Eyes of Death" starring ... wait, I have to look this up ... oh yes, Raizo Ichikawa.  I liked the series because I could relate to the main character.

Anyway, I stumbled upon an Asian cinema blog, and saw that several of the films I had translated had been reviewed.  I looked up the author profile, and voila, he lives in my town! I thought it might be some kind of kismet, so I wrote him an email.  We then spoke on the phone, and went on a bro-date to a Sushi joint I had never been to.  He was generous and sprung for the check.  A short while later, we went for a swim at the ritzy gym downtown (membership required, again, his treat), and afterward, I bought dinner.  

He indeed was a bon vivant as he refers to himself.  He doesn't have to work, he has no children, and he and his wife are globe trotters.  He has written several books on the subject of Asian cinema, and even gave me an autographed copy of one, full of fabulous photos he himself had gleaned from jaunts to Japanese studios.  

All this was fine and good, but I found myself in a curious pickle.  He was under the impression that I was an Asian-cinemaphile too, when in fact I couldn't care less about the genre. I was just a professional translator who so happened to have translated a whole bunch of Japanese flicks, and that's as far as I go on the subject.  He dropped names of actors and directors, of this movie and that movie.  I pretended to understand what the hell he was talking about.  His knowledge of the subject was encyclopedic, and all I could do was nod.  I said nothing in return, but he didn't suspect a thing.  After all, I had translated so many of his favorite movies.  

I didn't know what to do.  We got together a few times thereafter.  He brought gifts for us and our children.  He and his wife took us out to a fine and expensive dinner, he paid for the whole thing without batting an eye.  And all that time, I was in the difficult situation of not knowing what to say or do.  Should I come right out and tell him that I have no interest in Asian cinema? How could I, after all he's done for me?  He was generous to a fault.  He also is a rowdy sort as he was in a metal band in the 80's, and I showed him no empathy in his raucousness.  He liked to party, I didn't.  He liked Asian cinema, I didn't.  What did we have in common? I had nothing in common with him, and yet led him to believe we had that great commonality of Asian-cinemaphilia.  

Several weeks after the last dinner, I told him I'd call him in January.  I called him in May. He was rightfully upset, and called off our friendship, as he said that he had gathered I was not interested in his company.  I just didn't have the heart to tell him that I was not a fan of Japanese movies. That I had only pretended, and got caught up in a relationship I could not sustain, because it was based on nothing. And I know I bored the daylights out of him.  

So I write this as an apology to him, because he was a better friend to me than I was to him. It's a lesson for me to not seek "kismet" in places that are not dear to my heart; it's a path to inauthenticity. Strange circumstance it was, indeed.  I wish him good health and well being.