If the battle lines are drawn by bully boys from the Church of ignorance and plain simple religious zealots; drunk on their own prejudice and delusion that seeing is believing and believing is seeing, then, i hope to illuminate certain details here, and combine some 21st century scientific facts with timeless mythological metaphors and create an image, all-at-once, cutting through Christian materialism and naive realism, with luck.
Moanism (is) trapping and clogging up the full human potential and capacity for co-operative co-existence, friendly trade, open compatibility between information, spiritual practice and sacred ceremony. The major obstacle seems to me to be the evidence that theology and religious politicians feel threatened by oriental entities which are unconsciously smothered with occidental psycho-religio glosses and mistaken as being "religious'.
In some sense the Eastern way or ways, relate to an all encompassing flux of being; a way of life, not just sporadic prayer or specialized ideological faith.
The eye's which see are the projectors which play on the interplay and discretion between the seeing and playing, the pushing and pulling remains a moment-to-moment sensitive balancing act.
Contrary and anti-polar to the supreme truth, fact, or rhetorical western word symbol corpsemanure. Dead bodies litter pages in dead languages. Meanwhile the Orient paints nature shadow with ideograms, word pictures.
Dogmatic thinking circles around supreme stupidity; mistaking the inner-dwelling divinity of self, and therefore; projection, onto all conscious and unconscious signals; the limited and prejudiced fundamentalist world view; moanism as the cure for duality and a rejection of the finite because of an intoxicated hangover from the infinite flux of being. Whatever critter knows certain things cannot have those things in its critter nature.
As a metaphor for the unknown mystery and dicotomy between mankind and nature, self and ego, conscious and unconscious, i present an example of a symbiotic relationship in nature between different species.
Drosphilia, Muscaria and Mr. Toad; Farther, Sun and holly spyrt. This example outlines further investigative research into form and function, etymology and neuro-pharmacology. In fact, i seem to notice Amanita Muscaria everywhere i look, in the same way christians see christ every which way they look. The difference i am outlining though, is my flie relationship with the biological world, as well as the mythological attributes. In these spacetimes i feel that the time has come for me to speak my mind, blog it, and call out to the occidental and His political religious leaders in particular, with an alternative view.
A new "way" of seeing if you like, in which "all" things are sacred and the relationship between man and his symbols of nature and nature; can co-exist together, united by understanding, relativity, correlation of form and compassion. Jeremy narby calls this revolution stereoscopic thinking, percieving both the forground and background simultaneously, i love this metaphor because it paints a three dimensional picture in my own mindscape i can realte to.
In the individual quest for a one world; united in respect for both the individual and the group social critters; i have chosen Amanita Muscaria as my avatar, or simulation of Christ. I offer my results and findings in a self styled poetic gloss, in hope that the ugly analytical and stale language of western science, and so called objective reality, will become infused with the ancient rhythms and the spirit of experimentation, required to herald the new age and world unity i dream of and hold as a genral goal mantra. If i may be so bold, the art of godmanship as Alan watts called it.
We have to be responsible for our actions and conduct and our speech, the gods never left us, they just went on holiday into the world of symbol and idea.
Don't be fooled by a second or third coming, nothing departed. Now they are knock knocking on heavens door, knocking on our own temples of the mental with alphabetical spells and sentences. Keep breathing and don't loose your nerve.
In my search for a way to illuminate myself to the infinite flux of being, i once upon a time found an old old heresy, hidden inside a riddle within a riddle within a riddle. it is hidden, and it is hidden, and it is hidden.
So, i played hide and seek for 9 years with this riddle, infusing myself into different aspects of its being, moving around the intangible pieces of its puzzle body. Grabbing fragments which occasionally reveled themselves to me in actuality; only to find when i opened my hands that they had vanished, soon after i had the feeling that thought and memory of its being had vanished too. I was often left excited and bewildered at the same time, foolishly thinking i had something in my possession, which i most obviously on second and third thoughts, did not.
Thus the game of hide and seek continued day after day and time after time again i got my hopes up and then let down again, chasing my own tale with my puzzled mind, looking for a objective thingymajig, looking for loveglue and time binding devices; the only remaining ideologies i believed were actually capable of making it real and tangible, in the flesh, the only method of keeping it here, keeping it real and present.
On and on the river flow and i got pulled and swished around by the undertow, painting puzzle pieces into my flesh, drawing them on walls, translating them into different frequency vibrations, music, poetry, yoga. I tried to split the riddle in half between my ego and self, between the moon and the sun, between the microcosm and the macrocosm, even between life and death itself, and after all my suffering and heartache, careful attention, patience and suspension of disbelief; i still found myself running in logical circles each morning when i awoke, with yesterdays wisdom on the tip of my tongue but with incompatible speech pattern recognition software uploaded into my domain.
My dome, my human bio-computer. I felt lost in spacetime on many an occasion around about noon or 2 PM, i had constructed the universe since waking, and, as i say, always felt bogged down around 2 o' clock; just as the stars were congressing, and i was getting hungry since having only a blueberry donut for breakfast and some electric kool aid around 12:12 this afternoon.
Some days i would keep it real way through into the evening hours without deluding myself too much, it bacame kind of psycho-sadistic for a while there, i would neglect even my notion of "I" in the confusion i felt in the early stages of divining between ego, self, super self, super-ego, supra-conscious and the stoopid unconscious.
Round and round like a caged mouse wheel at full spin cycle, i spun for a hold reality, i spit out spider words, consciously, or so i thought, directing them toward solid structures, biological systems i could swing between and blend myself into, but most of the time my web of words hit a seemingly solid structure, which would without warning turn liquid or slippery and unstable, i found myself wondering..."can there be such a thing as an unwobbling pivot? I doubted it, and doubted again. And for all my doubting i just recall the pain. The suffering of seeing through the veil, of seeing my fellow human beings impaled upon alphabetical empires and squashed like grapes inside the imperialist sovereign empire; the super proper gandhi machine. crushing the fruit of wisdom with the sheer weight of metal currency.
Choking the natural abundance of wealth with ideological hierarchies, similar to the Christian blinker which obscures the infinite flux of being with finite spells 'ABOUT" the infinite flux of non-being, or the death of manjesus and the resurrection of the super spirt being christ. The supreme being of infinite stupidity and ignorance, this seems to be the same being as the being who the money gods worship, the abstracted spirit from the symbol, resurrected through the ideology, the conscious projector of prejudice.
With Dollar symbols and Pound signs leaving their trace every which way these suckers look, and every way they indent grace with their vulgar language and ugly categorical rhetorical dream of a mericle, a dream in which they can cash in all their stolen ideological loot for the real.
The worshipers of the money gods dream of the day that Christ turns their golden bonds into another symbolic system, more dissproportionatly rigg ratioed so that they can steel more actual natural abundance with their monopoly money, their empire enforced credit. Their so called wealth.
They are dreamers who created a metaphor of my own spiritual quest for the elusive infinite flux of being, wherever i turn my gaze throughout the havoc and haze of this life, i pull down the veil, to no avail. Do not stop and stair, they say, just walk into the bank of heaven, and reinforce the trixsters of the finite world in their project of world domination through flipping the poles of infinite and finite to produce a world word war of terror, in which the national pride and collective ego plays the role of abusive farther priest to the only begotten son; the individual, the self evident infinite flux of immortal spirit, the Chrudder self, not bound to any book, doctrine of ideological symbol system by necessity, but, by choice.
The sheeple need a sheperd, or so it seems to me, even though the fences and social hedgerows have been refuted and denied to exist as limits in any way shape or form since the begining of time, since the onset of self consciousness and self realization. The chains of law have been broken, why don't the people want to play anymore.
"Don't be afraid of the riddler" was a mantra i repeated when i thought about the imaginary walls of authority enforced by the imaginary essence of occidental identity, and maybe, the solution to the problem of identity being the explosion and brutal destruction of further investigation, or fair, reasonable, deductive criticism by the blind hammer of monism. Certainty. non-doubt. Full compliance with the - more often than not, in examples of severe violence and forcefully imposed suffering - male orgasmically missaligned and sexually unacknowledged ego center. 100% male certainty that death is the only answer, complete destruction the only cure, pre emptive strike the only option. Your either with us, or against us. One or the other, not both.
Duality must be smashed and reformed into a pure sword of truth, a sword which, although sharp, and well made, can never split anything in two, because by the very nature of its forgery, it can never create duality. Everything it cuts moves into reform and remould process by the power of a singular god, in the case of Christianity the God Christ, he, who makes the world whole again, he who has one way and one heart, he who cannot listen to reason and accept the splintered nature of self or selves, he whom dare not enter the 20th century or the 19th century in fear of being forced into two parts, or unveiled or unmasked to his true and multiple identity.
A sword cast from many chemicals allied with mag-stery a sword -word which has been known to have a mind of its own, to be unpredictable, a sword which turns into a lightening bolt or a stream, this sword is now the principle of metamorphoses. Only adaquatley described in the western tradition through metaphysics and super abstract propositional functions which bear about as much resemblance to their signifiers as a typewriter resembles the Amazonian rain forest.
These are the thoughts which sometimes came to visit me on an evening, if i ever got that far into my search for the infinite flux of being, inside the finite flux of this keyboard. You really should of being there over this last month or two, i must have seemed crazy to other people, setting up ghost traps and fancy phantom attractors or landing docks for the unconscious other.
I found that on my quest the spirit knowers and so called psychics are annoying and irritating to me, what you know cannot be a part of your nature i used to shout, but after the first time of saying this i realized my own infinite regress and fall into meaninglessness. Since that time i have being constantly vigilant for any knew techniques or methods for transferring my insights about my conflict with the flux and yet avoiding the many pitfalls and come downs associated with psychological showvanism in the west. I invented myself as a superflux hero, with wings and bionic powers, but at the same time, still had to take a shit and take showers.
One day i turned my critical insight upon myself and discovered a hidden garden of passionate and vibrant energy, fluttering between scenes, always on the move, everchanging, semi recognizable but very interesting. She was interesting, and she was a female. I must confess what happened to me myself and i, when i found out i had a women inside of me all this time, and she had never raised her head or made a murmur until that day, the day the earth stood still, and "I" came to realize myself and her relationship with the other, my other brother, our mother and great great great grandmother identity flux.
She made me mad as a poet, mad as a street cleaning vehicle, it was a miricle how i ever found my way backto back here, into a sentence with a semi logical flow, a sentence with a release date somewhere in view, rather than a prison term called life, with no end in sight, with no new beginning possible for that very same reason.
She had taken me from the end of the beginning and backtoback through the middle part and onward to the beginning of the end, on so many occasions that i had become a timelessness critter of the immortal Tao. Well, thats what i call myself now in this alphabetical plot to tie a know into form with structure wrapped around your cranium, vibrant, beautiful like a well watered geranium. Tao the way everyday, everywhen, everyman, everywomen, all the time and all-at-once, moment after moment, before before and after after, the now Tao has a timetravel function, in which it can construct a future universe scenario and aim to apprehend the event.
With a bit of luck i hope to apprehend Christianity with the Tao, let it come down, before the monotheism and ignorance of the western religio-political predator tears to pieces or bombs to bits anybody whom will not swallow the godma of tyrannical sovereign nations; hell bent on acting out their favorite parts of their favorite book, by their favorite author. Beware the critter of one book, and be especially aware of the reader who takes the infinite literally. Beware the Supreme sovereign farther of the divine identity.
He may rape you, steal your belongings and take advantage of you with His grand title. He may sentence you to death with a poison pen or mistake you for the villain inside His own rotten heart. Beware the monotheist and the naive realist, beware the saviour; question authority.
Steve 'fly agaric 23' Pratt. 2005. Paragraphed January 29th, 2012.