Sunday, March 31, 2013

Earth Changes





What's going on beneath the surface of our planet? All around the globe there has been a steady series of continuous reports (from around 2009) about these strange boom and "singing" trumpet like sounds. The sounds can be so intense that windows and other structures can begin to violently vibrate, often causing damage. Yet both the UGS and indeed NASA (David Hathaway) have concluded that they are currently at a loss in trying to locate the origins of these sounds. However, one of the most recent observations is quoted below:

"The sounds being heard are coming from the Earth itself. Changes deep inside the core are vibrating the crust near thin areas and causing the crust to act like a speaker most often times projecting deep waves up to the ionosphere where they are (bounced back) at audible frequencies... These inner ground vibrations are also what is causing the sink hole issue around the world... and underground water sources are being vibrated to the point of dispersion.” Retired Electronics Engineer Hill AFB.

So what could these changes be? And what could be causing them? One theory, I would suggest is that the Earth's core, and, in fact the entire atmosphere above the surface too, is currently being affected by forces from outside our local system, This probably started in essence around the late 1980s, however, we're perhaps only really beginning to "feel" the changes now. NASA, for example have recently stated that the Heliosphere in our solar system has changed shape quite dramatically, as it appears that it has become highly charged with energy particles from outside our system.

Like a microwave (see mircowave radiation in universe) heating water from the inside out, we just don't know how such energies interact with not just the upper atmosphere of planets, but, with the metal cores that generate the magnetic fields in planets like Earth. I also, think, that the current melting of large amounts of ice from glaciers in Greenland for example could cause unforeseen changes in the way plates interact with each other, and, "the cushion" upon which they sit and move. Still, the whole phenomenon seems very eerie, odd, inexplicable, almost otherworldly, worthy perhaps, of Charles Fort.

Friday, March 29, 2013

The Divine E. Bunny

Illustration by Benjamin Arthur
My son Ben told me
his Christian friends,
hoping to save his soul,
asked him to Easter services
at their church. But he,
learning there would be
no Easter egg hunt,
politely declined.
I explained to him
about the organized church
of the Divine Bunny
and the factions therein:
those who hunt
the chocolate fudge eggs,
those who search for
the painted hard-boiled eggs,
and those who pray to find
the pink, yellow and blue
candy eggs, nestled in bright green
faux grass, in the wicker baskets
of many colors.

Then I said: but the real Bunny
encircles the Earth,
and we are all His congregation.
He knows " what's up, Doc,"
he knows our deepest longings
which he has already given
and are just waiting to be found.

Yes, Benjamin, my son,
there is an Easter Bunny,
a Santa, a Jesus,
and a God
of uncounted names.
They rove our world,
hiding treasures to delight
and enlighten,
sacraments of the senses
and the soul,
in the sweet-scented grass,
in the Wonderland that waits for us
down the rabbit hole.


Thursday, March 28, 2013

12 Ways To Look In The Mirror





My son Ben was assigned to come up with 12 ways to look in the mirror for his acting class, this is what he wrote.

12 Ways Exercise

Activity: Looking in the mirror.

1. I walk into the bathroom, sniff the cigarette smoke that is wafting in through the window from the aprtment below me. I turn to look in the mirror, and see a sunbleached wasteland, large creatures lumbering and moaning stampede past. My heatbeat slows, then accelerates. I lean forward to get a better look, resting my hands on the wall to either side of the medicine cabinet, then, disbelieving, I open the door of the cabinet and check the back of the mirror with my hand. I close the door and stare, rapt, into this strange world.

2. I step into the bathroom, feeling odd, and look into the mirror. My breathing is heavy and I am unsteady on my feet. As I look at myself, I suddenly realize that I am growing younger, my face is becoming softer. I rub my head and feel my hair, and then look down at my hands, as they begin to shrink inward, hairs retracting back into my body. I look back in the mirror and can see myself physically growing shorter and my head gradually sinks below the bottom edge of the mirror. I fall over and begin to curl up, catching my feet in the loose clothing that swims around me, feeling the cold tile under my belly, I begin to cry in a tiny baby’s voice.

3. I walk into the bathroom, I’m walking very evenly and carefully, as if I am balancing something. My head is three times bigger than normal. I’m not concerned, this was just the way I was born. I stand in front of the mirror, and my head begins to loll to one side alarmingly, and I grab my head with my hands and straighten it on my shoulders. I rub my cheek, scratch my nose, grab a comb and begin brushing my hair back. I have to reach up as high as I can to comb the top of my head, and it is always in danger of tipping over to one side, so I have to continually be catching it with one hand or the other. I smile in the mirror, and head off to work with a bounce in my step.

4. I walk into the bathroom and begin to shave, looking in the mirror. “hey, lookin’ good, oh yeah.” I begin rinsing the razor in the sink when I hear a voice close by. I look up, and listen, my head cocked. I walk out of the bathroom and into my small apartment, but there’s nothing. Then I hear something again, coming from inside the bathroom. I walk back in and say “hello?” I hear a response, coming from the mirror. “what?” I say, as I turn to the mirror, looking intently at my own reflection “who are you?” I say, leaning my weight on the sink. “You can’t be me, I’m me” I reply, putting hand onto my chest. “That’s not true!” I reply angrily, and then I turn and face the wall. “This is crazy, something’s happening to me!” Then I whirl-- “You,” I point my finger at the mirror, “don’t say that about my mom!” I put my face in my hands. “Oh my god, you’re so mean!” Then I get angry and move in close to the mirror. “I’m going to smash you to bits!” It grabs me by my throat,  choking me. I scrabble at the sides of the medicine cabinet, and grab the reflection’s wrist, I finally pull free, gasping. I run out of the bathroom and slam the door behind me. Then I sit and catch my breath. I pull my cell phone out of my pocket, and call dial a number “Hello? are you there? Please pick up, doc... its happening again...”

5. I’m the richest man in the universe, I slide down into my bathroom, where a butler stands, holding up a mirror. I trot over to the mirror, and stand while I am shaved, combed and powdered by Tunisian triplets. I turn my head back and forth as they rub my face with aftershave, sleepily observing what is happening. When they stop fussing over me, I mess up my hair with my hands, and run off hooting.

6. I look in the mirror, but it is only me, looking back at myself.  I stand there, arms outstretched, hands resting on the wall, staring right into my own eyes, looking at myself looking at myself. Then I laugh, because it’s not me at all, it’s just someone who looks like me. I stare at the other guy who looks like me. But it actually it is me I realize, so I laugh again, this time louder. It was me all along! Then I look at myself again. My hands slip and I fall face first into the mirror. I’m very very drunk.

7. I go to comb my hair while looking in the mirror, and the comb escapes, running up my shoulder and leaping onto the floor. I spin around and slam the door of the bathroom so it can’t get out, then I bend over, holding a newspaper. “Hey, it’s ok,” I say soothingly as I reach under the back of the toilet to grab the comb. But it’s too quick for me. It leaps in the air, scrabbling around on the smooth surface of the tub. I pull back the shower curtain, smiling as I watch it try to get out of the tub,  wild-eyed. It just looks so silly.

8.I stand looking at the mirror, then I wave my wand at my face and cry “Beardicus Grownicious!”  Instantly, a beard begins to sprout from my face. “Ooh,” I say, as I reach up to my face and feel the hair streaming out of my face. As the beard gets bigger and bigger, my eyes widen with horror. I wave the wand at my face, but it gets caught in the growing hair and gets knocked from my grasp, carried away by a giant river of hair that is roaring out of my face.  "No!” I cry. The hair fills up the room and forces me up against the wall. “Stopicus grownicious” I cry weakly.  Then I’m saved by Harry Potter.

9. I’m incredibly old, I’m bent over, my head is a shrunken raisin, all squinched up, and I slowly, carefully walk over to the bathroom, resting my weight on the wall, then the doorknob, then the sink. “Woo,” I say, as I rub my hip. I look into the mirror, squinting. Then I pull out my glasses, carefully rubbing them with a cloth I keep in my breast pocket. Then I put them on, look in the mirror and squint again. “Looking good!” I smile a toothless grin, and then slowly begin shuffling out of the bathroom.

10. I’m a tiny baby kid, I’m full of energy. I run around in a circle 3 times, making plane noises. Then I run into the bathroom. I look up at the mirror, but it’s too high. I run out and grab my toybox, and begin pulling it into the bathroom. It’s very heavy, and I have to lean my whole weight into pulling it. I finally get it in the bathroom, and clamber up on top of it. I look at myself somberly, and then make a hideous face, involving my tongue and my cheeks, but I can’t hold it because I'm laughing so hard. 

11. I try to look in the mirror, but it’s so dirty. I squint and move my head this way and that, but all I see is a greasy shimmer. I spray some Windex all over the mirror and begin wiping it down. I wipe it all over, up and down, round and round, I spray even more Windex on it, and wipe some more. Then I throw the dirty paper towel into the trash and look into the mirror. Then I walk away.

12. I look in the mirror, but I think it’s another fish, so I bump my head against it for the rest of my life.

Tuesday, March 26, 2013

BIOPSYCHIC TRANSFORMATION


(painting by Jenifer Ransom)
BIOPSYCHIC TRANSFORMATION
  
 THE DREAMSPELL AND THE DNA
 
from S.E.L.F. (the Super Essential Light Field) as channeled by Catherine Bean Weser
 
Jose Arguelles has called The Book of Kin from the Dreamspell the DNA of the fourth dimensional holon. The Dreamspell is a tool of biopsychic transformation. It contains the divine and sacred codes of the being that you are beyond the three-dimensional self. In the Dreamspell you have the opportunity to reconstruct your fourth dimensional history/future, and associate yourself with cosmic root races, with tones of creation, and tribal affiliations. With this process, each of you has begun to create an entirely new template through which you can begin to operate in a much more fourth-dimensional way. The fourth-dimensional energy is not just associated with time–it is associated with the field of energy that holds this particular galaxy together. For in moving through the fourth dimension, one begins to experience the next dimensional universe by moving outside of the currently created dimensional galaxy. It is important for each of you to understand that the template that you have had as solar humans operating in this solar galaxy has been useful, but has only been useful up to this particular point in so-called time. At this moment that solar template is being overlaid with the galactic template in order to move you outside of the galaxy and into the supergalactic field.
 
The Maya were aware of their fourth-dimensional selves, in fact, they were fourth-dimensional beings connected to their third dimensional "ground crew."  They were diviners of harmony within this galaxy. Their mission was to synchronize the earth and its solar system with a broader and more galactic consciousness. In so doing, the galaxy organically gains more intelligence and each part of the whole joins a larger community of greater awareness. In this holographic universe, you as human holons will, as the Maya, seed the consciousness of the supergalactic field, with the information of the galactic template.
 
The last 20 years of this galactic synchronization beam is a time of organization of all fields of light. There is a frequency of light that emanates from the most evolved of star systems, perhaps coming directly from the galactic core, the Hunab Ku. In order for the sun to resonate at this frequency, the earth and all its inhabitants must evolve into a harmonic coordination. This can only be accomplished through global telepathy, or what we call global rapport. Rapport is the entrainment of one whole being to another whole being in a holographic resonance. In order to facilitate the rapport, you must move into the deepest parts of your being and reconstruct the DNA to its original state. All beings will then resonate at the highest frequencies of light, from the core of their DNA.
 
The Tzolkin, based on binary mathematical permutations, represents the sacred codes of DNA transmutation. In engaging yourself in the relationships represented in the Tzolkin, by diving into the Dreamspell, the organic result will be the ability to transmit yourself, as DNA information, from one star system to the next–and surf the zuvuya: travel inter dimensionally. This will create the biopsychic transformation that will result in galactic rapport.
 
 
In the synchronization of the field of energy that holds this galaxy together, with the fields of energy of all the other galaxies, the biopsychic transformation becomes a grand movement, a cycle of time and dimensionality. The imprinting of this new galactic template upon your solar template will be the preliminary process undertaken over the next 20 years. At that point, when these templates have become synchronized, you will begin to feel yourselves in the activation of the purest and most profound energy of light. For each of you is operating to reconstruct the DNA, not through an effort or any sense of construction that would necessarily employ a kind of activity or a kind of strategy. You are reconstructing the DNA from information that has existed in seed form since the inception of this whole human experiment. The DNA is a reflection of the morphogenetic field, or the information that is held in the planetary holon. The Dreamspell is a picture of that information, accessible through play, magic and paraverbal recollection.
 
Because the Dreamspell is based on the Tzolkin, the sacred geometry of the Maya, it is a tool for understanding how consciousness can express itself in matter. The Tzolkin itself is a matrix of essence. Only that which is of the original blueprint can pass through it. The Maya came to this planet to deliver information of consciousness evolution, and used human ideas to explain it. According to the Maya, each of you is empowered to connect directly, in rapport with the galactic center, and to experience sensuously, as well as electromagnetically, who and what you are. The seed has been planted by the Maya.
 
That seed is primarily carried in the DNA that is known as the mitochondrial DNA. This is the DNA that exists outside of the nucleus in each cell. It is the DNA that carries a kind of time encodement in the understanding of time and space as a construct through which you comprehend and create the nature of your reality. And it is in this DNA that all information of the original blueprint, so to speak, for the human experiment exists. You will begin to sense is the DNA that exists outside of the nucleus of every cell is the DNA of attunement. We would say that it is the DNA that exists outside of the galaxy, that is associated with the supergalactic sense of who and what the human individuation is. So the seeding from supergalactic energies or thoughtforms has been carried in terms of a template in mitochondrial DNA.
 
What exists in the DNA in the nucleus of the cell is the thoughtform of this galaxy. And your galactic gateway, the specific holarchal position that you carry within the field of light known as the Tzolkin or 13 by 20 matrix, is the  portal through which you ultimately reconstruct the DNA that exists within the nucleus. That is a step which is significant and important in the totality of what is unfolding before each of you. As you reconstruct this DNA, you are basically reconstructing the energetic fields of light that existed at the time in which this galaxy was seeded, in which you, as nothing other than the spark of light from God-presence, were motivated to incarnate in human form in order to achieve the understanding and the relationship of who and what you are to your galaxy, this  galaxy of which you are a part at this time.
 
The DNA that exists within the nucleus exists there in order to create  relationship with the mitochondrial DNA. It is necessary for you to understand that in the process of the reconstruction of the nuclear DNA, there is a simultaneously correlating process of reconstruction of the mitochondrial DNA. However, that relationship is dependent upon the relationship that you as a holon, a human holon, have to the light field or the planetary holon. These are the two ways in which the relationships of holon to holon are carried in the microcosm with regards to the nuclear DNA and the mitochondrial DNA. This binary relationship is a specific way of understanding the associations that are necessary in order to operate as a cellular being on the earth within this galaxy. The binary code underlies all the sacred codes of life–electromagnetic, nuerologic and biopsychic.
 
Scientists have identified the energy of the seeding, carried in the mitochondrial DNA, as the genetic blueprint which comes through the mother. The mitochondrial DNA and the nuclear DNA operate in a slightly different fashion. Mitochondrial DNA is associated with creation–the thirteen tones of creation–the way in which a species, thoughtform, seed, evolves. It functions through the galactic template. It is an evolutionary blueprint of life itself in terms of the human species.
 
The nuclear DNA, created from both the mother and the father, represents the resolution of duality, and creation from a point of reference of relationship. With regards to the Dreamspell, this particular DNA, the nuclear DNA, relates primarily to the 20 solar seals. In other words, those solar seals represent the 20 essential proteins that are a part of DNA. The nuclear DNA operates through the field of light of the solar template, and the solar tribes, the  twenty "groupings of galactic colonizers"  represent the 20 essential elements of time and consciousness.
 
What you have been doing with regards to activating the DNA through the Dreamspell is opening the galactic portal to see, sense, experience and, at least at one level of your being, understand the nature of these templates. Rather than looking at these templates in terms of the particular proteins, the particular components, of DNA in what you might call orthodox science terms, you are looking at these components in a very aesthetic, descriptive, almost poetic terminology. That is why the Dreamspell has been created. It assists you in activating the right brain part of your being, the part of your being that needs to have that kind of activation in order to engage the left brain, or the part of your being that has been so highly charged and activated in society as it exists at this time. Jose Arguelles has said "...for all intents and purposes, the entire modern world is a split-brain culture so dominated by the left hemisphere that it has lost contact with its own innate bodily functions."   The configuration of the 12 and the 60 is ultimately a configuration of the left brain. It is a hemispherically imbalanced  way of perceiving the world, your particular human world on earth, and your galaxy. From the perspective of a much more balanced hemispheric perception, the energy of the right brain at this time must be activated. It's as if the pendulum has swung and what is coming forward is a deeper commitment to operating in the realms where there is less of a sense of segmentation and more of a sense of the unification.
 
The Dreamspell offers the opportunity to explore the spiraling evolution of energies that can become understood through color, picture or glyph and number–not number that's associated with a kind of mathematical relationship–but number that's associated with pictorial representation. And that's what the seals and tones are really about. Yes, indeed, there is a very profound sense of a left brain radial matrix of numerical understanding that is the foundation of the Tzolkin and hence the foundation of this Dreamspell game, but the Dreamspell game has in itself been created to move you out of that kind of study and into a much more profoundly activated creative potential that exists within each and every one of you.
 
The creative urge is stored in the DNA from the original thoughtform or process by which you found yourself motivated to incarnate in this space and time. What we're speaking of here is that the activation of the DNA, both DNA forms, is a product of the creative process. The more that you allow yourselves to create, the more you are activating the original and most primary imprint or template for your DNA. The DNA itself is that which must create, and as it must create, its evolution or biopsychic transformation organically emerges. And the organic emergence of the evolution of the DNA is the incorporation of the strands of DNA that carry information from all of the profound light templates that have ever existed in all of so-called human history.
 
We are not speaking of the dreamspell of history, the recorded history, the kind of orthodox left-brain understanding of a linear progression. We're not speaking of Darwinian evolution, or the way in which one might perceive that somehow humankind has evolved. We're speaking of the whole process of a consciousness evolution that is maintained through the creative process that is the imprint or the template of the DNA itself. We're speaking of the DNA as a very specific unified matrix or unified field of energy. The real unified field is the template of creation which exists in the DNA. That is the life force and that can be understood through many different terminologies. It is through the process of creation and identifying the creative process in whatever terminology you might wish to use, that one then begins to sense that the evolutionary and organic movement of creation, of life itself, is underway.
 
From our perspective, the next 20 years is going to be a very profound time in which creation is the partner to what might appear to be destruction. The more that you associate yourself with your own sense of creation, the more that sense of destruction will be nothing other than the other side of the coin, and will become a part of your understanding of the way in which the organic evolution and biopyschic transformation takes place. And yet we are not speaking of a kind of binary functioning in which death must precede life and life must precede death. We're speaking of a kind of simultaneity in which there is the synchronization of what is known as creation and what is known as destruction in a much deeper level of integration, of human understanding, a much deeper level of ultimately being the G force, the God-force that exists within who and what you are as the human individuation on earth. If you set your intentions clearly forward you can begin to map or, in fact, trace the activation of your creative process, for that creative process is synchronized in many different dimensions. At this point, the opening of the galactic portal has occurred and the synchronization is underway.
 
The physical vehicle itself is learning to operate in a much more profound structure of light, a much more profound matrix of light, a much more profound movement of light. There is, at this point, the opportunity to really know that whatever seems to exist in the reality that you have created and structured according to the seeming consensus does not have to be destroyed in order for the creative process of the reality that you are now creating to flourish. In a synchronization with supergalactic levels of dimensionality, the overlaying of the solar and galactic templates and the biopsychic transformation can simultaneously occur with what has been called consensus reality. It is not necessary to perceive that destruction must come first. Instead, the creation of the new reality actually envelops and becomes a kind of umbrella, a much grander level of operating, so that you, in the old concept of your perception of reality, will continue to function effectively. Living multidimensionally means experiencing life in movement as an integrated right and left brain human, as a solar and galactic being, as a creator from the mitochondrial and nuclear DNA. It is actually a grander part of a larger experience of a much more profoundly inclusive field of light.
 
You can play this Dreamspell in order to sense ultimately the unified field of light that exists and is shared by all of you. For as you begin to find your identification in very individualistic terms, using what has been created as a construct of reality– yet instead of saying that it is space and time, saying that it is solar seals and tones– you begin to create a reality that appears to function somewhat like three-dimensional reality. But it is in fact functioning in another level of your being, because all of your attachments to time and space have to be altered into attachments to solar seals and tones, colors, glyphs and pictures and bars and dots and experiences of waveforms of information and energy. In so doing, the creative process has been stimulated. And in so doing, the activation of the movement of self through that galactic activation portal begins. You can construct and reconstruct a reality through the process of playing the Dreamspell. And the more that you come in touch with that process, the more creative you allow yourself to be, the more you will have information about the nature of the three-dimensional reality that you have created, that is other than Dreamspell, that you have believed to be the reality.
 
We're speaking of a biopsychic transformation in the understanding of who and what you are and how you function effectively in reality. You no longer plot or strategize or say that the reality you want to exist in is "the one where everyone is beautiful and everyone operates in high integrity and everyone is filled with light."  Although that may be your desire, out of the current tools that you have in three-dimensional reality–namely, time and space and some of the other beliefs and thoughtforms which maintain the three-dimensional reality–it is going to be extremely difficult to create that desired reality. You will have to operate in the old core belief that says that something must be destroyed before something new can be created. That's part of the consensus reality. So you must step through that perception and operate in this other creative field, the field of light that synchronizes the solar and galactic templates. That's what occurs in the process of playing the Dreamspell. That is what you will sense in a sensory electromagnetic way at the very core of all of your DNA. You will let go of all of your attachments to create reality that really comes out of the time/space field of constructing reality which isn't the truth of the original creative potential, the original creative energy.
 
The activation of the DNA occurs in the energy of creation. The energy of creation, the birth itself, is that which is inherently nurturing. It is just like the red dragon of the Dreamspell, whose power is nurturing, and whose action is birth. You will find that the three-dimensional time/space construct that you have been operating within will shift as a result of your attention and intention in playing the Dreamspell. It will occur organically as part of the biopsychic transformation.
 
Time is not a segment. The 12/60 segmentation is not really an appropriate understanding, nor is it anyone's visceral experience of time. For each and every one of you have had an experience of time in which hours have flown by and in which minutes have taken years. Does that mean that the segments have actually altered in the time/space construct or does that mean that who and what you are in the DNA has reconstructed a reality in the cellular structure of your being, in the way in which you are oriented?  As you begin to understand that, you begin to understand the implications which ultimately include a whole biochemical reordering, a reordering of every system that exists in the physical vehicle as well as every part of its light field. That reordering is done in the DNA as the DNA returns to its original job description, which is to create reality.
 
Those ten strands  of DNA that are not in physical form at this point in evolutionary movement, are not in form because the job description, so to speak, of the DNA has been altered, has not been realized. The job description has shifted from creating reality to creating survival. The creation of survival is, indeed, a necessary component in maintaining reality, but things have gotten a little out of balance. Things have gotten out of balance primarily through misuse of free will. The human individuation who, as a part of the creative process, has mistaken creativity with survival, has associated the energy of the birth as that which comes after death, or that which must be preceded by destruction. Time has become money, and de-synchronization has increased. This has all taken place in the dreamspell of history of the current population of consciousness and humans on this earth plane.
 
It is just as if the attention at the level of the DNA has shifted from the planetary holon to the planetary vehicle, identifying itself with the planet and perceiving reality as a necessary part of the planetary survival. Just as you have perceived earth as being in trouble or needing to be assisted or needing to have its shake-ups, you have perceived humanity. And just as you have perceived humanity, you have perceived the earth, and there is not one point when it was not like this or another point when it became like this, this is the creation. This is nothing other than the creation. As you begin to see the constructs which overlay your perceptions of reality, and as you begin to see the reality that you have created as a wavespell upon a wavespell upon a wavespell, call it as you will, you will begin to enable yourself once again to create, and enable yourself to give birth, and enable yourself in that way to nurture life itself and to recreate, in recreation, the necessary rapport. For ultimately, there is superluminal light which moves through the supergalactic template and moves directly into the DNA. And that activation engages the additional strands of DNA to create in perfection. The twelve strands of DNA are synchronized into the unification, and become the thirteen tones of divine creation.
 
The largest way of understanding reality is to understand it in the terms of the creation. As reality itself shifts, creation once again begins. Creation once again becomes the trajectory through which life itself is experienced. Now some of this may be a bit confusing or may be a bit difficult to understand, and yet that's only in the construct of your consensus three-dimensional self. The holon, your light body itself, understands.
 
If you wish for the activation of the DNA to become more conscious, play the Dreamspell. The Dreamspell allows the human three-dimensional part of yourself activity, and it is through activity that understanding in a deeper way takes place, for activity is the experiential component. Understanding that is not conscious is understanding without  experience.
 
You don't need to try to create experience. The end of the era of trying actually began at harmonic convergence. That was when the activity of trying to create what looked like a positive reality ended. At that point, the cosmic blueprints of each individual of the rainbow nation were given. You were no longer really able to try to be the blueprint. It became very clear that it was then necessary to simply be the blueprint, the blueprint is in place and that is, indeed, who and what you are, and will be, simultaneously. Harmonic convergence is when consciousness ultimately activated the willingness to stop trying and to just create.
 
From this particular field of energy, from this Super Essential Light Field, we simply wish for each of you to create, and to create from that place within yourself, from the level of the DNA that has been activated, the reality that is, indeed, the reality that moves beyond the old collective, the old time/space constructs, that is instead the reality that assists you in knowing the light, in knowing the God-presence, in knowing, indeed, who and what you are. Allow the biopsychic transformation to take place in your being, and enjoy the magnificent wavespell you have created. The eons and megamovement of all the constructs, matrixes, templates and relationships, are but a reflection of who and what you really are, the grandest Dreamspell of creation.

The Kindness of Half Truths


  
The white clouds static as the green trees
Pairing into qualities, patiently waiting, to be?
In the wide, Skies Black Birds flower the bees,
In the narrow, Hives Black Ants fish the seas,
Contrasting like minds, only the imagination sees

The truth in-forming metaphor above us
Go thinly imperceptible in the Brain's vault
That damp domain we feel exists too easily in us,
Feeding uncomplicated facts that never halt
Us permanently to know a truth without fault

Life advances neither in singulars nor plurals
Individuals and collectives share the common fate,
Spraying nature’s white walls as incomplete murals;
The DNA is halved light made in blind faith,
Lives all living things- in forms just like our faith

We believe, for who are we, questioning, every day?
Following next, like wooden trams going one way?
Of equations and linear sequences let them go astray
For are not birds and humble bees, but a reminder
Of a metaphorical truth who’ll make us kinder?


Monday, March 25, 2013

The Primeval Hammering



Do you know what it is to be an artist? To have the Creator at work in you every moment of your life? Perhaps you will argue that the Creator works in every man, and that is very possibly true. But he works in the basement of the house (like a middle-class man who has installed a craftsman's bench in the cellar, while his wife keeps the upper floors in order). A fussy housekeeper rules the upper levels where the world is entertained; but the Creator goes downstairs to work. In the silences when the street-door is closed, the tapping of his hammer may be heard by the listening, receptive one.

The more stir above stairs, the less the primeval hammering can be heard. Most people seal off the cellar of their house at their childhood's close, and the hammering is never heard in them again throughout their life. They have walled off their Creator in the days of their youth, and He who called the universe into being has died in them. Occasionally the walled-in workman, too vital to die, sets fire to gunpowder, blowing up the established order, the parliamentary procedure of the parlor floor.

-excerpt from "God And Puppet" by Irene Orgel

Sunday, March 24, 2013

Now I See How I See



(Painting by Angela Ferreira, http://www.magicpaintings.com/)

Now I see how I see
is what makes
new world, new me.
Come with me now,
the rules we'll bend,
we'll transcend
and make our own,
hear the tone,
come today, come today,
we'll make our way,
again we'll play
upon the shore,
that joy we thought
would come no more,
we've gone so far
yet no distance,
it's been so long
yet all transpired
in an instant,
let us be, running free,
new we, new world,
literally.

Friday, March 22, 2013

The Blue Tigers



 Lesson 1: Las primeras palabras

Los Tigeres Azules: They were the first words
On that very first day, I learned in La Boca,
The mouth was the river’s mouth, without teeth
And her tongue was a barrio looking eastwards
Towards the fabled cobbled continent of la Europa,
They followed the ancestral form of her Roman street
The white plazas and monuments turning westwards,
With her strict logic and language glowing without defeat.
In the eternal Latin edifice, I learned by heart in La Boca
El día primera, there is never a past or future in ones first words.

Lesson 2: Un niño de Nuevo

The Newborn Child: This was the primal state
In those very first days, the world was being spoken
To the child once more, each sound was to contemplate
And to hesitate innocently before the first gesture was broken
Like those distant clumsy steps eager to erase that mistake
Of not being understood or of having to constantly deliberate
Between the world and the word everything can come to make
The difference between being right or wrong is no debate
For in el Inglés the failure of a life arrives none to late,
For too quickly we are made to unlearn the child’s state.

Lesson 3: Hablando con confianza
 

Speaking with confidence: This was the adolescent’s age
In that very first spring, language was the fruit of all knowledge,
And Buenos Aires was the good air formed easily on the lesson’s page
There was chic Palermo with the verbs that bring self advantage
There was salubrious Belgrano where round verbs equal privilege
There was poorer San Telmo where broken grammar was the rage
And neglected La Boca near the verb’s inception in our village
Where the children escaped and grew into the verbs of the age
In that very first spring, la primavera, hablamos con confianza.
How we learnt to speak with confidence on the adolescent’s stage.

Lesson 4: El principio de todas las historias

The beginning of all stories: This was the time of great celebration
In that very first summer, of endless words making everything glisten
Through the mingling crowded January nights of cafes reading La Nacion
Expressing the opinion of politics and state to minds who’d listen
Until thoughts would dawn into the fiction of another hour’s mutation,
The Book of Sand, The infinite hands of every history and every nation
Revealed in that Aleph of a story enfolding the story to yet enlist
Another strand in the universe’s ultimate tale coming to congregate
Like pilgrims adding their offerings to the tapestries hidden mist,
In the beginning of all our stories: palabras encuentran su hogar.

Lesson 5: El sueño de los sueños

The dream of dreams: This was the gently awaking dream
In that very first fall after the ripened wheat of the summer’s harvest
Su lengua era la lengua, words like ripe grains fell from the ream
Where nothing separated us anymore from the eternal contest
Of the word formed in the world’s image, reality was a dream
We awoke from under the leaves of La Recoleta's quite realm
Her cemetery with its lovers and black widows in one palm
The world here as infinite as but one grain is in a stream
Of sunlight, your tongue was our tongue, real as any dream
After that very first fall we awoke el sueño de los sueños.

Lesson 6: El mundo se acaba donde empieza el infinito

The world begins as infinity ends: This was the great lesson
In the very first day of that Winter where time had begun
To sing into the rhythms of our verbs no longer freshly sung
On the rainy pavements of the liberator there was little sun
In those days, memories of an origin in that other season
Where real life had no point or dimension, where all was fun,
Where experience was the world waiting to be simply undone
Like within a child’s dream where no actions are ever done
Without the inscrutable Cosmos listening into our distant hum,
Where infinite worlds end so had another dream surely begun.

Lesson 7: Los tigeres azules

The Blue Tigers: They were the first words
On that very first day, I learned in La Boca,
The blue tigers with  snake’s tongues looking outwards,
That was the first sentence I learned in your mouth
En su lengua, a complex metaphor moving towards
An original creation where words and worlds grew out
To teach and reach the infinite point in ourselves,
You where there, Blue Tigers in the first visible air
As in the first and in the last breath, you’ll be there
Los Tigres Azul: Eran las primeras palabras!




 

Monday, March 18, 2013

Tea for Two: Muse-to-Muse




If you could possibly unravel all the hidden reasons why
Your promising youth withheld pleasures that treasured delay;
Then wonderful wise man, what would you say before you die

To learned priests who ended up shrugging their shoulders high
Whose names now engrave tombs where still old men pray;
If you could possibly unravel all the hidden reasons why

The slowing Earth now returns your middle aged wandering eye
With cold reproves for one now gone more than half way;
Then wonderful wise man, what would you say before you die

If the World's chequered chessboard somehow skipped your life by
Will you continue dancing the Aristotelian melodies logicians play;
If you could possibly unravel all the hidden reasons why

With every passing anniversary partners and friends begin to sigh
At what could of been your glorious making, but insist on being shy;
Then wonderful wise man, what would you say before you die

To your own unfolding being in the mirror of your mind's eye
Observing a being serenely gone beyond our laugh and our cry;
If you could possibly unravel all the hidden reasons why
Then wonderful wise man, what would you say before you die



Sunday, March 17, 2013

The Less Cynical: 17 March 2013






Even today, without shame or any disrespect
(Which in our age is too much to expect)
Without even a break, or, simply a day’s rest,
They croak, their minuscule shrill choruses
Like fungi on that ever damp bark of their
Shrill voices- like indiscriminately free flung
Words never blooming, just to be, from such woods,
It appears, the sun's light never captivated them,
To let their cares fall down, just, for this one day,

Yet, Nobody actually seems to care what one believes
For the truth is no longer a difficult, hazardous climb
The Saint indeed was probably never from this Island
And the serpents probably never put in an appearance,
And that leipreachán every Irish person knows is for the yanks,

And that it was all invented by that second generation
Of Irish Americans who never really wanted to see us
For what we truly were, yes, maybe it’s all for the show
The green, the white and the gold, selling its tattered soul
To the silly bleary eyed tourists, with fake orange beards
And tricoloured top-hats throwing up pints of black stuff
For all the world to see- yet does anyone really care, for this day,
That seems anointed and blessed in the Celtic secular fun fair
Where everyone and everything is allowed to be a Paddy
Where all is made green from Lady Liberty to the Taj Mahal
Where we are known as that race of rebels, drunks and Poets,
An image branded for a new generation without any regrets?
For nobody here seems to care what one believes anymore.

Still your choruses croak their disquieting truths
Even Today, You croak that sad and bitter tune,
That sour tune I do not want to know or embrace
You, For is there something of the Fungus in me?
That austere quality, critical, best kept at a distance
From what lies hidden beneath the collective masks
And the caricatures, I too retreat into these multitudes
Of false joys, Of too much drink, and of typical regrets
Emptying and numbing down an entire nation’s thought,
There hides the grim history you so religiously obscured,
Still, for good reason, your choruses croak their truths
And, How I wish I could cloak myself as something other
Than you, to reveal myself as a free, new, man, emerging
Reborn after the battlefields of this church, history and state.

Saturday, March 16, 2013

Translating Lao Tzu






Tao Te Ching, Chapter 42

Lao Tzu:
The "parent of all teachings"
is that "the violent man will come to a violent end."

Jen:
First Cause, or "parent of all teachings"
is that what you put out is what you get back.

LT:
The Tao begot one.
One begot two.
Two begot three.
And three begot the ten thousand things.

Jen:
Zero begot one, One begot Two, Two gave birth to Three.
Infinity and individuality, synthesized,
brought forth exponentially increasing expressions.
From this trinity came all else in existence.

LT:
The ten thousand things carry yin and embrace yang.
They achieve harmony by combining these forces.

Jen:
We and our world are a blend of opposing forces.
We find resolution and peace, inner and outer,
through balance and synthesis.


LT:
Men hate to be "orphaned," "widowed," or "worthless,"
But this is how kings and lords describe themselves.

Jen:
We have mastered ourselves and our world
when we understand the true riches are within.

LT:
For one gains by losing
And loses by gaining.

Jen:
We gain by losing our identification
with things of the world,
and lose the real treasure
by increasing that identification.


LT:
What others teach, I also teach; that is:
"A violent man will die a violent death!"
This will be the essence of my teaching.

Jen:
As many sources have said
in different ways:
What we put out is what we get back.
This is the ultimate teaching.

Angelus Novus: The Angel of History



You who cannot hide, or, run,
Is it time, or was it eternity
That brought you here before me

For can you tell me what it is
That summoned you into this void
I look upon, as an angel of light-

For why, always the troubled sadness
I see, but can never truly ask you
Why you cannot cease your moving?

But from what, and to where, you go,
Are you a cursed, or, are you a blessed
Creature, captured like some exotic animal

In our imaginations,- could you ever be at home
In this ill conceived construction, you who’ve learnt
Not just the truth, but the opposite of our destructions,

You, who can never be, ultimately moved by us
Nor be made to intervene, by what you have seen
In us, was it not our strife, that frighten you off, the most?






 

Friday, March 15, 2013

That Never Ending Friday


 
How we live for that same pathetic day
All week long, every week, that same day


When we are deloused of the loathsome flea
Of grubby offices draining us with its phone and fax


All week long, every week, that same pathetic day
Hangs out her unchanging tits like a dolled up hooker


Seducing every dead-beat Friday drunk, you made
With love into a newest friend and closest confidant,


Yet how Friday becomes another Monday in your mind
The hands on that awful clock have nothing but time


And yet, they sing on and on, eluding and denying
Always…The Answer, The Answer, The Answer..


Still, How we always live for that same pathetic day
All week long, every week, every year, that same day…..
 
 

Tuesday, March 12, 2013

The Sparse Woman





Sparse, petit, wispy and shy
Hidden in those shady corners,
Of my half unconscious years
Beside an aspen and a red ash

I never remember her otherwise,
But somehow, always, situated there
Like a bandwidth, slightly, off range
Being corrected by the original touch

I passed it once more, like ever other day
I had hurried passed, without a thought
Without a glance, without looking back
For never was there any reason for delay

Until that grainy morning one early May
I passed through ways leading to familiar way
From pre-arranged house to pre-ordained street
With the unchanging facades there to kindly greet

And followed that course, known or understood
By neither an animal’s occluded native instinct
Or by the circumscribed mind of civilised man
And so it was, on Station Road, a gap opened

Between those critical differences and deviations
From the ordinary, the banal, the ever same,
A gap opened, not too widely, but just enough
Was revealed against an insensate and unthinking

World, And you where there, A Sunflower
Amongst all the Sunflowers in purest yellow,
Singing to yourself, a song surely not for yourself?
In that glowing Garden, all the commuters rush by

And so I remembered you this May day
Years many pasted, not as a sparse women,
Slowly unfolding her last flowers to the Earth,
But as a beauty, it’s still quite easy to imagine.




 

Sunday, March 10, 2013

All the Black Crows



You are my witnesses. I know you well.
You were there from the very start..
You it seems too were composed, like us
Of an energy, the physicists called “dark
But not the darkness of your velvety wings
Which only you and I are permitted to see,
But a darkness that expands and accelerates
Near the speed of light, binding us together
Into a mutual experience woven through time,
Yet we shall never occupy that exact space
For the theory forbids it, so you too were
Excluded from the calculus of the rational mind,
When you took leave for that mythical domain.

But from the world of clustered Oaks in October
No theory could ever banish your dark shadows
From all the fallow fields the farmers had turned in
To another season, you were always there, as nature’s
Constant witness, giving us not just her cold comforts
But something else, resembling a rough hewn link
Of remote and unfamiliar sorts, unspoken in the caws
Of your natural language, no word or abstract equation
Ever captured the measured determination of your flight,
Nor truly bound, each and all, inseparably too tight,

Like a genie, You escaped, Old Black Crow, all our attempts
To categorize, To classify, To name, How did we miss you?
Old Black Crow, commonly excluded emblem of waking day
Old Black Crow, accursed messenger of humanity’s Hinter-Welt
Old Black Crow, the exposed double image of all that could of been?
Old Black Crow, that symbol near the far side of everyone’s life,
Old Black Crow, where your flocks weave like a painter’s thoughts
One must, only watch your energy, neither creating nor destroying
That perfect equilibrium, balanced somewhere between life and death.

Still, I observe you, Old Black Crow, like nature’s only witness.
I look up, not to observe, nor theorise about the expanding universe
But just to grasp, all the black shadows, with eyes acutely attuned,
And aware, like theirs, of the coming darkness before night-falls.

Tuesday, March 5, 2013

Being Born Each Moment.






There are moments in every life
Moments to be, and ,moments to not be
Moments as infinite as a sleepless night
Moments as fleeting as sudden sunlight
Moments as endless as the deep blue sea
Moments when all horizons appear clear
Moments when there is no beginning or end.

There are moments in every life
Moments to be, and, moment to not be
Moments that can make or break us,
Like waves forming against the bow,
We are all voyagers moved by its sway
Flowing like droplets, moment-into-moment,
Where one comprehends, what simply is, a moment
In that pure experience, Of being born, once more.

Sunday, March 3, 2013

Paul Celan



Who would have thought
                                     In this late age
                                                              There could be



 Such Saviours


          Created not from man’s unbending Religion
                                                                                   of fairy tales
                                                                                          of perennial wars
                                                                                                     of an eye for an eye
                                                                                                         of tooth for bloodly tooth
                                                                                          Begetting that nameless injustice

Of isolation, Of Shame, Of apartness
                                                            Of rootless co-existence with the infernal Desert,
                                                   Scattering her sacred grains through tribes                                                                               Whom nobody knows anymore,

                               Generation through Generation, fragments through fragments
                                                         splinters from the broken jar
                                        Of splinters, glass projecting from the insufferable glass
                                                                Of your insufferable heart,
Splintering the insufferable heart of your history.

So that was with you
                              Conceived near the Fatherland’s dark edge
                                     When the black noon of reason hung too high
                                            When the scurrying rats would take human form
                                                 When the white coats delivered one from this world
                                                    When the Fatherland would teach you his famous “Todesfuge”

                                                  

Later from that impossibility, how you questioned
                Him, one of them, the Fatherland’s Philosopher Son
                     In the black forest of his own thoughts, you met Him
                           Retiring gently into the serene everyday Sun
                               Of his “late thoughts” poetry came to mind
                                  Salvation was to be sought- but amensia was permanent
                                            For Him, your unique past could never exist

                                                     For you were indeed just a number, 
                                                         Within a number, his thoughts couldn't locate
                                                                 Within the black forest of his past.
                                                         
So you left us,
                        The grief too much for one
                                                                   Who has seen too much

                                                                                For one
                                                                            Who has being to much
                                                                                           There can be no going back
                                                                                                        For that one
                                                                                                             Who left us
                                                                                                    That fine Summer’s day
                                                                                            Not far from the banks of the eternal Sein.



Saturday, March 2, 2013

Everyday Occultist





How often I have tried to study you
In those recalcitrant unresponsive mornings
When the sullen mid-winter light aroused you
Yawning its enormous sleepy jaws towards us
How often I have tried to study you
In the constant hell-like hum of low distant traffic
Growing louder, glistening iridescently through
The frost of a million deserted city parks
Childless as the doves taking flight beyond us
How often I have tried to study you
In the baroque dust of a gallery’s marked out room
With the worm eaten skulls of a dour old master
Beckoning its miraculous insubstantial presence at us
How often I have tried to study you
Along all those respectable, secertive, wood plain lanes
In the west London of another era, mansion after Victorian
Mansion with cold granite cellars reaching up for us
How often I have tried to study you
Through the vacuous eyelids of the Piccadilly crowd
Uncoiling your working skin like a somnambulist
Yearning to be struck by Antero’s light, hoping to inflame us
How often I have tried to study you
In the polished up shop window’s and mirrors of Regent’s street
Among the multitudes of shadows, reflections and voices
With cares both worldly and otherwise somehow greeting us
How often I have tried to study you
While taking refuge in Saint Pauls like that lost sheep
Seeking to cloth himself in the silence of an immaculate bell-jar
Searching for solace in the, candles glow, still reaching us?
How often I have tried to study you
With the concentrated dedication of a pavement artist
Reproducing miraculous life from the water and wine
Of an imagination smiling enigmatically back at us
How often I have tried to study you
In the uncommon wonder of reading deceased books,
Rubbing my fingers like a palaeontologist, touching the spine
Of a fossil with the vain hope that knowledge still teaches us
And how often I have tried to study you
But failed to notice you were always to be hidden
You were the absence, the blank page, the unheard melody
A visible darkness in the supposed inertness, trying to release us.