Friday, December 15, 2017

Excerpts from a channeling of Adamus Saint-Germain by Geoffrey Hoppe

Geoffrey Hoppe of the Crimson Circle

There’s too much of a chasm between the ones who are conscious, the ones who know what a choice is, the ones who are allowing the integration of the Master and the human, so many that understand that, that it’s created a New Earth. It’s not what you’d think of as Nirvana, but it is the place to go to be the creative expression of your soul, with a lot of human attributes, but without ever getting stuck in the human attributes.

Then you have a whole group on the planet here who is still into their processes, into their evolution of the Self, but it’s not congruent with the ones who are really allowing their true consciousness. So, you have a lot who are still going through their human lifetime-after-lifetime experience.

Then you have a group, which I haven’t talked about yet, that is holding on so much to the old, to the past, primarily to the old masculine energy and it includes a lot of women. A lot of women who do not want the responsibility to be side by side with Adam, a lot of them that actually like wearing the prairie dress and making dinner all the time and that kind of stuff.

Saint-Germain of the Violet Flame
It’s actually right now creating what I’m going to call the Under Earth, which certainly is not the New Earth, and it’s really not this classic Earth, this physical Earth. It’s creating a whole new reality/dimension where those who are really holding on to the past and will not let go and don’t want to let go and want to continue to believe in a God who is judgmental and angry, that demands worship and all the rest of that. They will go there and it will not be on this physical planet, but it will appear to be. It will have more gravity than this physical planet, psychic and literal gravity. It will have more rules and regulations, more righteousness and a lot stricter. It would be like going from a liberal arts college to a highly religious college where you had to go to church every day, and they want to. Nobody’s making them go there after they come into their next lifetime. They want that, what they call, simplicity. They want that subservience to God. They want to believe in a higher power and a masculine higher power, and they don’t want to understand that you are God also, and that’s fine. We don’t go try to change their minds, nor would they listen to us. They would call us Satan. We don’t try to do anything other than absolutely honor them for the new stage at the new theater of the Under World where they’re going to go play.

......................

There is no mistake about this life. I know so many of you have wondered, “Well, how come I haven’t done more in this lifetime?” or “How come I haven’t accomplished more? How come I haven’t written bestselling books or started a big business?” You didn’t come here for that. I mean, you can also do that if you want, but most of you have chosen not to. You came here in this lifetime for one thing. It’s your last lifetime on Earth, on this Earth, and you came here to embody the Spirit, the Master. You came here to bring together the human and the Master in this lifetime.


It’s been a quiet journey, a lonely journey and a difficult one, because of the doubts, because once in a while you lose that inner compass, that inner knowingness of why you chose to be here. You didn’t come to try to save the planet. That does not work. But you know, because of what you’re doing within yourself, taking on things that aren’t even yours; you know what you’re doing by being here, being a presence. Not a lecturer, not doing sermons, not preaching, but being a presence on this planet and staying in the body and actually totally changing the dynamics of the body, the DNA.

The DNA is this amazing, hardly even understood, kind of what you would call a light thread, spirit thread, we sometimes call it the angel thread. It’s the life-giving force behind everything. It’s the programming. It’s the software of life. But even that’s changing right now. You’re changing in your body, and I do have to chuckle to myself when I hear: “Oh, my body. The aches and the pains and what I’m going through.” And I’m like, “Breathe it in. Accept it, because you asked for it. Don’t resist it,” and I know that sounds opposite of what you think you should do – run from it, fill yourself up with supplements and holy oils and everything else. No. You’re going through a phenomenal change. Can you let yourself experience it? So remember for a moment, why you’re here, why at this particular time. I’ve told all of you, you could have allowed your enlightenment last lifetime, a couple lifetimes ago. You’d have probably croaked right away and come to the other side. But you said, “No, I’m going to come in, in this time and I’m going to go through this change, in the body.”

.....................

What to do? Allow. Allow. As odd as it seems, what you’re going through right now is the greatest experience of any lifetime. You are going through in-bodied enlightenment and some days it really sucks. I mean, some days you just want to vomit on spirituality because it’s so difficult, and other days it’s like you feel, “Oh, yeah. It’s all coming together.” This is absolutely appropriate. There’s nothing wrong with you. There’s nothing wrong when your body hurts.

I’d love to show you what is happening at your cellular level, your DNA and within. You are totally bringing in a very different – I don’t like the term light body, because everybody thinks of this fuzzy, glowing thing, and it’s not that. You’re bringing in a true energy body that’s relatively independent, where you no longer have to be feeding off of other people or food or anything else. A true energy body. It’s a non-parasitic body. And every physical body, every human body is parasitic. First of all, you have parasites in your gut right now. They’re there. Listen... “Erggh! Let me out of here!” (squeaky voice). And your physical body is parasitic. It needs and feeds on energy, whether it’s other people, whether it’s food or anything else. You’re addicted. The true energy body that’s coming in doesn’t need that. It’s – I don’t want to say 100 percent – but it’s mostly independent. So, you’re going through this on the fly. You’re remaking yourself. It would have been easier to have died and start all over. But you’re stubborn. You insisted, “No, we’re going to stay. We’re going to do it right here while we’re living,” so take a deep breath. You’re right where you should be.


[Full transcript of channeling at Crimson Circle]

Friday, December 1, 2017

Kiss My Arse ~ In the Name of Common Humanity (by Salleh Ben Joned)

Holey Man performs arse-kissing ritual to help the faithful find true love

I had a dream last night. Most of my dreams are quite weird, but this one was weirder than any I’ve ever dreamt. I think it was inspired by something that happened at the United Malay National Organisation (UMNO) General Assembly last Friday. At this gathering, this “Assembly” of the dominant party in the governing coalition, a Kelantan delegate, thoroughly disgusted with the dirty tactics (note “dirty”) used by ambitious Umno desperadoes in their premature campaign for the next year’s party elections, told an old filthy joke that brought the house down. The joke is about the quarrel among the various parts of the body as to which one is really powerful and therefore should be the boss. The brain says it is and should be in control of the rest because … Then the mouth, the nose and so on; each with its own irrefutable reason for making the claim. The anus, naturally, has the last say. It triumphantly declares that it is more powerful than any of the rest, including the brain: if one morning it decides to close up for good the body is finished, man. Kaput!

Related to such an august gathering as the Umno General Assembly, the joke was truly edifying; so edifying that it inspired my weird dream. I dreamt I was invulnerable (kebal in Malay). Neither the keris nor the parang could penetrate my skin; even the notorious Kelantanese kapak kecik that flies in the night at the bidding of its frantic owner couldn’t harm me. It seemed that I had finally attained (in the dream, that is) the much sought-after ilmu kepala tahi.[1] Ilmu what? Kepala tahiKepala what? Tahi. This is no ordinary ilmu, man; this is esoteric ilmu. But tahiTahi??? I think you’re just being your usual vulgar self again … Of course I’m being my “vulgar” self. I’m always “vulgar” – vulgar in more than one sense you know: not only “coarse or “filthy” (your meaning), but also “common” as in “common people” (i.e., ordinary people, unashamedly close to the earth, and reveling in it).

But back to the IKT (less offensive thus abbreviated?). I tell you it’s not something I dreamt up, though its “reality” and efficacy were confirmed for me only in my dream. IKT is a form of magic power which the Malays used to believe in; some in the remote kampungs (villages) probably still do. (No, you won’t find it in Skeat’s Malay Magic; it’s apparently too vulgar even for that huge tome) IKT can be acquired (so my uncle told me) by snatching the sausage-like T (it has to be a “sausage”; watery stuff’s no good) as it emerges out of somebody’s anus. This might be done on a Thursday night (Friday night to the Malays). I won’t strain your tolerance of the “vulgar” by going into the lurid details of the messy business. It’s sufficient to tell you that it must be done in a certain way, and that after you have acquired the precious substance you must wipe your body thoroughly with it, the wiping accompanied by the recital of certain mantras. Then you must avoid water for the next three days. If you observe all this, you’ll be kebalInsya-Allah. (And please don’t listen to envious cynics who say that you’re kebal because nobody would come near you anyway.) With IKT, you don’t need your brain anymore; or rather your brain has come down and joined forces with your anus. What you’ve got now is a sort of “thinking anus.” The unity of the body, of the highest and the lowest, the refined and the filthy is now truly yours. Hang on to it for dear life. Now, what has all this stinking business to do with literature? Literature… yes.

Well, the dream, the old joke dredged up at the Umno General Assembly, the mysteries of IKT – all this reminded me of a curious novel I read earlier this year. And with it, the thought I have been thinking about on and off quite sometime on the subject of the vulgar, the filthy, the taboo, the “last frontier” of the body, physical-spiritual, sensual-mystical body, in both literature and folk imagination. The novel is by a Tongan anthropologist-writer Epeli Hau’ofa and titled Kisses in the Nederends (Penguin, New Zealand). This comic satirical novel is literally and symbolically about an arsehole. As far as I know, Epeli Hau’ofa is the first writer to devote a whole novel to the hole. And in a way it is a perfect illustration and proof of the anus’s claim in the Umno General Assembly joke that it is the most powerful part of the human body; it can abuse its power to become the most tyrannical dictator and capable of subjecting man to the worst humiliation imaginable. 

Kisses is a tall tale, one of the “tallest” I’ve read. Written in a style that is clearly influenced by a grotesque realism of Francois Rabelais, it is about a Tongan who suffers from an incurable “pain in the arse,” an ulcerous fistulated anus. The book opens with a bang, a stinking assault of farting, followed by a duet between the mouth (snoring) and the anus (farting), and the hero’s waking up in excruciating pain in his bottom. Then the rest of the book takes the hero on a mock-epic search for a cure, from the bizarre treatments of traditional medicine to an organ transplant in an ultra-modern New Zealand surgery. (Yes, the hero ends up with somebody else’s anus, a white woman’s down there.) This disgustingly hilarious Tongan tall tale ends happily with the cured hero triumphantly proclaiming a new religion of true brotherhood (and sisterhood) of man. Its slogan? “Kiss my arse!”

Epeli Hau'ofa, author of Kisses in the Nederends

You need to have a strong stomach to read and enjoy this book to the end. My wife doesn’t; after a few pages she threw the little Penguin out of the window in utter disgust. The writing of Kisses was actually inspired by the author’s own experience. Poor Mr Hau’ofa actually suffered from a terrible pain in the arse much like his hero’s, a sort of piles which the Tongans call kahi (k not t). True to the South Pacific philosophy that laughter is the best medicine, the novel proved to be the best therapy for the author, who suffered from a psychological malady even after the successful operation on his anus. But the novel is not only a therapy in the form of a tall tale; it’s also an allegory that carries a serious social and spiritual message for the Tongans and other island peoples of the South Pacific, and by the implication for modern man in general.

Francois Rabelais  (1494-1553)
Kisses in the Nederends is to me a triumphant demonstration of my belief that there are many varieties of vulgarity – from the childishly obsessive to the soberly purposeful. In the hands of a comic or satirical writer with a talent and fundamentally weighty intention, the vulgar and the flighty can be redeemed by art in the cause of a vision. Francois Rabelais in his Gargantua and Panatagruel, Jonathan Swift in Gulliver’s Travels and James Joyce in his Ulysses and love letters to his Nora are among the world’s greatest “filthy writers” in this sense. Epeli Hau’ofa is part of a long tradition, and Kisses shows he has the makings of a mini Swift of the South Seas. Swift is probably the most familiar of the three, thanks to his Gulliver’s Travels, a book which every reasonably well-read kid knows. Kids reading filthy stuff? Not quite, because the Gulliver’s Travels that kids read has been cleansed of all mind-polluting filth. Children’s editions of the classic work are either simplified (for young kids) or published (for older kids) without the third and fourth books: A Voyage to Laputa and A Voyage to the Country of the Houyhnhnms.
           
The third book, a sort of proto-science fiction, recounts Gulliver’s experience on the flying island of Laputa when he visited the School of Political Projectors at the Academy of Lagado; there he meets weird professors or projectors who are distinguished by their ingenuities in the service of the state. They have, for example, developed a special technique for discovering plots and conspiracies against the government. The technique involves examining the diet of all suspected persons; finding out “times of eating; upon which side they lay in bed; which hand they wiped their posteriors”; then to take “strict view of their excrements, and from the colour, the odour, the taste, the consistence, the crudeness or maturity of digestion, form a judgement of their thoughts and designs.” The whole business is based on the belief that “men are never so serious as when they are at stool,” and because of that their stool can tell us all kinds of things; for example “if the ordure has a tincture of green” that means when the suspect was having his stool he was “straining to think of the best way of murdering the king, but quite different when he thought only of raising an insurrection or burning the metropoles.”
           
Jonathan Swift (1667-1745)
The fourth book of Gulliver’s Travels, the one generally considered the most important of the four, narrates Gulliver’s encounter with the tribe of super-rational horses, the Houyhnhnms, and their opposites, the filthy Yahoos, whose resemblance to himself Gulliver tries to deny. He is so seduced by Houyhnhnms, creatures which embody for him the ideal of civilized being, and so disgusted by stinking Yahoos (who warmly welcome his arrival on the island by defecating on him from a tree), that he goes mad in the end; back home in England he tries to live with horses, behaves and neighs like one, spurning the company of his fellow human beings who are all Yahoos to him. 

There has been much debate among scholars and critics about the meaning of Gulliver’s Travels, especially Book Four. The debate has to do with Swift’s real attitude to the Houyhnhnms: does he share Gulliver’s admiration for the cold-blooded super-rational horses or doesn’t he? Related to this is the question of Swift’s scatology, what its very pronounced presence in his writing means when we try to determine his attitude to man and to human nature.
           
Distinguished modern writers Aldous Huxley and John Middleton Murry were apparently the first to confront the blatant fact of Swiftian scatology which earlier writers on Swift had ignored or pretended didn’t really exist. Huxley especially recognized the central importance of the scatological theme in both Gulliver’s Travels and three of his later poems (The Lady’s Dressing Room, Strephon and Chloe and Cassinus and Peter). But Huxley and Murry’s conclusion, that Swift’s scatological obsession (in Murry’s highly suggestive phrase, “excremental vision”) reflects a fundamental neurosis in the writer, a neurosis that made him a misanthrope or hater of human nature – this conclusion, I believe, is based on a misreading of Swift. 

I am with the American writer Norman O. Brown here. Brown, whose breakthrough book Life Against Death (1959) first offered a balanced reading of Swift argues convincingly that Gulliver’s misanthropy is his, not his creator’s. Similarly, Cassinus, in the poem Cassinus and Peter, who “lost (his) wits” on discovering that “Caelia, Caelia, Caelia sh_t”, shouldn’t be confused with Swift. (Swift did go mad in the end, but not because he couldn’t stand the fact that women “sh_t“, as critics like Murry seem to suggest.) Cassinus is obviously a projection of the universal neurosis of civilized man who cannot accept and revel in the fact of nature that the body is a wondrous unity – of the higher and the lower, the spiritual and the bestial. Civilized man (or rather over-civilized man) is haunted by that reality of our human nature immortalized in the famous words of St Augustine: “inter urinas et faeces nascimur” (the seat of love is the foulest place in our body – implying that our most exalted, most spiritual aspirations are bound to our soiled flesh). Over-civilized man represses and sublimates his animality and that’s why he is sick.
           
Epeli Hau-ofa is a mini Swift of the South Seas and is clearly a writer who affirms that wondrous unity. The phrase “mini Swift” though, may not be quite accurate, it can suggest something that is more Swiftian than “Hau’ofian.” Swift, that “tiger of the 18th Century English literature is a master of satiric comedy that is distinguished by its uncompromising fierceness; a fierceness that is not quite “Hau’ofian.” 

Hau’ofa in Kisses in the Nederends is relaxed where Swift in Gulliver’s Travels and the satirical poems is Fierce and Furious; Hau’ofa’s hearty comedy is more Rabelaisian, wild and rompy – and hilariously breezy. In an interview with the New Zealand literary magazine Landfall, Hau’ofa says: “I am by nature playful, and playing with words, obscene or otherwise, is an aspect of that nature. But that is only one aspect of my use of dirty language. I use it also for other purposes. Firstly… I resorted to it as a way of presenting the effect of physical agony (that unrelenting “pain in the arse,” remember?) on Oilei’s psyche (Oilei is the aptly named suffering hero of Kisses), and on his relationship with those around him. But most importantly, I used it as a most unlikely tool for a discourse on love, purity and harmony…” 

A comic satirical novel with an ulcerous fistulated anus as the prime mover and focus of the narrative – that kind of novel is “discourse of love, purity and harmony”? I’m happy to say, yes. Unlikely? Well, the author himself is fully aware that his use of “dirty language” is “a most likely tool” for such a discourse. He knows that “it’s never been done or even thought of before.” But that’s what makes it fun; it’s a form of creative experiment that shows that Hau’ofa the anthropologist is also a true writer. Hau’ofa asks the question that Rabelais asked centuries ago: “Why should we continue to loathe references to our organs of procreation and elimination, and not to other organs? Such questions have implications that go beyond mere body matters. 

As Hau’ofa puts it they lead to “other questions about social and cultural institutions.” As he worked on the novel, laughing as he furiously scribbled (“I could not but laugh as I wrote”), the fundamental seriousness of the theme became more and more crystallized in his mind. The idea or ideal of bodily unity (and equality) came to suggest other forms of unity (and equality) – such as the social and political (thus the use of language with political connotations in Hau’ofa’s descriptions of the “rebellion” of the body’s lower orders, the bowels and the anus).

“I seriously said to myself,” Hau’ofa recalls in the interview, “that if we give due respect to the nether parts of our bodies, we would eventually eradicate most of the obscene expressions in language and therefore in thought. That should go a long way towards helping us to be more loving and caring of each other… Oilei’s search for a cure for his physical ailment is also a quest for purifying himself of violence and obscenity in language. Having attained his goal he invites everyone to kiss his arse. It is a joyous statement of the end of hatred, and a declaration of love for all mankind. It sounds bizarre but I’m serious about it… “ Bizarre maybe, but I can’t agree with Epeli Hau’ofa more.
           
In the novel, the character who helps to bring the light to Oilei is a guru and yogi named Babu. Babu is a wily character who can be both a clever entrepreneur and a prophet of spiritual and social liberation. Babu’s mission is to convince the world that “the anus is good, beautiful, lovable and respectable.” He declares that “It’s time that the status of the repressed lower organs” (note “repressed” and “lower” in both its psychoanalytical/biological and political meanings) “is recognized.”

He pointedly adds: “We treat our heads with respect and call our leaders heads. We could, with equal felicity, call them anuses.” Babu prescribes yoga exercises for his patient, designed to make him learn to respect his own anus so that it becomes truly part of him – and smells to his nose “as the fresh bud of spring.” One begins by learning to love one’s beautiful anus, kissing it meditating on it, inhaling its spiritual as well as physical aroma. Then the next step is to learn to love the anuses of our brothers and sisters. Babu demonstrates the truth and power of his teaching by kissing Oilei’s anus with love and respect. The guru declares “if the President of the United States and the Soviet Union do likewise at their next summit (sic) meeting there will be no threat of nuclear annihilation… As in most things we must begin from the top down. When the top meets the bottom, there will be eternal peace. The real obscenity, the novel says, is not the so-called “dirty language,” but man-made horrors like nuclear war. To ban that sort of obscenity from the life of man altogether we must learn to “greet, love, laugh and dance with each other in the middle of our zones of taboo.”

11 & 18 November 1992


[1] Ilmu: mythical knowledge or power
  Kepala: head
  Tahi: shit


[Originally posted in Salleh Ben Joned; first posted here on 25 February 2016]





Sunday, November 26, 2017

FORNICATE FOR FREEDOM! (revisited)



James Thurber (pictured right), the late great humorist, wrote a book called: IS SEX NECESSARY? I doubt he satisfactorily answered the question - but he sure came up with some hilarious cartoons.

I’ve spent years investigating sex and heaps of energy exploring its possibilities. I’m tempted to conclude - after five decades of extensive research - that sex is utterly incomprehensible and only good for selling breath mints, condoms, and earthmoving equipment.

Nevertheless, I won’t succumb to that temptation. Because sex keeps your hair looking great and your breath fresh. Bad hair days and stale breath only happen when you haven’t been laid for a while. Besides, I’m a Reichian at heart. Dr Wilhelm Reich, the late great psychoanalyst and student of the Life Force, maintained that a community of sexually gratified adults would never tolerate a dictatorship. What does this reveal about sexuality in Najib’s (or should I say Rosmah's) Malaysia?
Cartoon by James Thurber
Sex has very little to do with LOVE - which is mainly about being comfortable enough with another person to be able fart freely and gleefully in their presence. In the old days kids were introduced to the forbidden topic via the birds and the bees. How utterly boring. Animals, insects and plants simply reproduce their species. They don’t have sex for sex’s sake, like humans do. With animals, insects and plants sex is merely procreational - with us, it’s recreational.


But, then, basketball, ping-pong, snooker and tenpin bowling are also recreational. Why aren’t humans content with banging a few balls around and competing for points? Have I discovered some other activity as pleasurable as sex? Indeed I have. Turn me loose in a studio equipped with a wild assortment of musical instruments. I could make music for hours, and then light a cigarette and listen ecstatically to the playback. Making music is a joy that lasts for years. One way to make sex last for years is to make BABIES - but we won’t get into that now.

Cartoon by James Thurber
Everybody knows sex has two occupational hazards: pregnancy and disease. The lubricated latex sheath popularly known as a condom is touted as a prophylactic against either condition. Politically correct modern young women (those who grew up bombarded with scary HIV ads on TV) carry condoms in their handbags. I suppose older guys keep tongkat ali in their pouches to suck on whenever an opportunity arises to display their tantric prowess.

Folks, there’s nothing ELECTRICAL about sex. Don’t believe all that mystical mumbo-jumbo. Sex is all mechanical pumping action - and we’re only hydrocarbon-protein machines. Feelings? Hrrrmph, just a fancy option, a fashion accessory, that’s all. And BIOMAGNETISM has little to do with the passionate desire to fuse with another aspect of oneself. But hold on a friggin’ second: aren’t we ultimately aspects of one another, somehow interconnected, genetically or karmically, etherically or financially, mythically or science-fictionally?

Forget it! Go ahead and rubberize your erotic experience! Lace your sexual intercourse with latex! Insulate your appendage (if you have one)! Better safe than swollen, heh heh!

Quite frankly, "safe sex” with condoms conducted in condominiums sounds like we’re more than halfway to hell. Some say danger is a potent aphrodisiac, and I’m no stranger to danger, though we don’t often meet (indeed, we tend to avoid each other). But amor omnia vincit. True love ultimately triumphs over tragedy, I say.


Of course, we could easily bypass all these sticky problems by breeding sex entirely out of our bastardized gene pool. Let’s sew up those tiny slits at birth. Lop off those dangly bits - why stop at prepuces? Within a few in vitro generations we won’t even remember we once “did it” just like the chimpanzee, the donkey, the duck, and the dog does it. Ah, let me wax lyrical here...

Never too late to self-castrate
And change your name to Fidel Castro.

Sweet is the date that grows on palms

And fills our calendars.

Why masturbate? Emancipate

Your hand from demeaning work.

We anticipate, as we replicate

Ourselves by scientific procedure,

A cleaner, purer world

Totally devoid of jerks.



My answer to James Thurber’s question: IS SEX NECESSARY? Probably not - but it’s essentially how humans can briefly experience the Grand Unified Field. The urge to conjugate and unite is well-nigh irresistible, and our souls certainly derive nourishment from physical intimacy.

However, the insertion of fear and guilt into the copulation equation has made sex a mere commodity. Labies and genitalmen, we cannot allow that to happen. Fornicate FEARLESSLY and GUILTLESSLY and regain your freedom. At least from bad hair days and sewer breath.

[Originally published in the January 2005 edition of  VIDA! First posted 24 October 2013, reposted 8 April 2016]



Sunday, November 19, 2017

INTEGRITY IN THREE EASY STEPS (revisited)



The First Step. You have to expand your self-awareness to include the possibility that you are not merely a one-dimensional social ego forever seeking approval, recognition, and status. You are, in fact, a multidimensional entity with personality aspects known and unknown – and you exist on many levels of consciousness simultaneously, from the ridiculous to the sublime. In short, you have to acknowledge that there’s a whole lot more to being YOU than meets the public eye.

There’s that poor little neglected kid, for instance, that nobody paid any attention to in your early years – and who silently swore to someday make a big splash in the tadpole puddle of existence (and who ended up being a major control freak with tyrannical tendencies). There may also have been the severely traumatized little you, innocently playing with your genitals in the bathtub one morning, when your mum or your maid caught you at it and screamed, “Hai-ya! No shame!” and then whacked you a hard one. These are just some of the more common forgotten aspects of ourselves that are permanently embedded in the subconscious regions of the mind; but no matter what we later become, they still occasionally impinge on us as restimulated memories, causing us to react to specific circumstances or personalities in irrational and erratic ways (often inappropriately and counterproductively).

And of course there are the heroic, sagely, saintly, angelic, or deific aspects of ourselves that must be incorporated and reintegrated with our conscious beings – without which our existence would be pathetically inglorious and prosaic indeed.

Step Two. Forget about doing it “right” or doing it “wrong.” Grown-ups spend so much energy trying to teach their kids the difference between “right” and “wrong” – and then, many years later, spend thousands of dollars on all kinds of therapies unlearning deeply ingrained notions of “right” and “wrong” – just so they can feel INNOCENT again. No matter what you think you’ve done at any point in your existence – even if it’s an act so shameful and, to your mind, so heinously disgusting you would never want to share it with another soul – you are, in truth, INNOCENT!

Innocent in the cosmic context. Innocent when you arraign yourself against the vast backdrop of The Big Picture. Innocent in the eyes of whatever or whoever you have chosen to identify as God. Yes... even if you were Idi Amin’s personal chef, or Idi Amin himself... you are ultimately (and were originally) innocent and no proof of guilt is worth the paper it’s printed on. How so? Simply because the Divided Self is purely an ephemeral condition – and a totally illusory one at that. The Divided Self, better known as the Smeagol-Gollum Syndrome, is what happens when society tries to impose an artificial “moral code” on real people, especially when they are young and defenceless against erroneous notions of “acceptable” behavior.

Our vital essence is on the side of our animal nature, which has been so severely suppressed over countless generations, that it has literally “gone underground.” Our so-called ids, our shadow selves, our Gollum sides, if you like, cannot be destroyed – only denied and swept under the carpet or locked away in some dark cupboard or packed away in a box and left in some ancient attic to collect dust. Where we do not label any action as a crime, no punishment need be meted out; and where no punishment is feared, no action is concealed; and therefore no hypocrisy exists. In that state of undistorted clarity, all situations can easily find their own resolution – without the use of coercion, without the rule of fear.

For in the end it is always fear that drives out all possibility of compassion and true understanding. And without true understanding, we can only exacerbate whatever problems arise in our lives with our mindless reactions to other people’s actions. Remember: the person whose behavior most upsets you is really holding up a mirror so you can examine hitherto unexamined aspects of your greater self. Instead of chasing him or her out of town, out of your reality, you would do much better to simply say, “Thank you for the feedback.”

The third and final step is as easy as 1-2-3
. Knowing now that you are a whole lot bigger and more complex and more mysterious than you ever imagined you were, you can set about INTEGRATING all those aspects of yourself and aligning them with your own Core Self – that’s the Innermost Self you’ll find seated majestically on the throne of your own kingdom or queendom. Every one of us is a king or queen in exile, subject to external authority and life’s vicissitudes – until we reintegrate ourselves and locate the very core of our beings.

Integrity, you see, is a purely technical condition and has absolutely nothing to do with man-made concepts of morality. When all aspects of yourself are integrated, you attain the status of an Integer, and thereby leave behind the emptiness and meaninglessness of Cipherdom. Only as a whole being – an Integer, in effect – can you possibly manifest Integrity as a tangible quality. Integrity goes beyond mere honesty in that it considers all perspectives as potentially its own. Without integrity, you cannot experience honor and your own nobility – and will be condemned to seek it in others, a search doomed to perpetual disappointment.

And what’s so cool about being in conscious integrity? Things fall apart, they disintegrate, according to the Second Law of Thermodynamics – a condition otherwise known as Entropy. In other words, the 3D reality of Decay, Disease, and Death... in other words, Holographic Hell!

Being in conscious integrity nullifies and neutralizes entropy, and leads to syntropy (a term coined by Buckminster Fuller, who also gave us the word “synergy”) – a condition wherein everything just keeps improving and renewing itself. Now, that’s what I would call Heaven on Earth. Get my drift?

[Originally published in the August 2005 issue of VIDA! First posted 8 January 2007]

Wednesday, November 15, 2017

RELATIVITY IS NO THEORY (updated)

Almost everything is relative, isn’t it? Spent the better part of my life peeling off layers of middle-of-the-road, middle-class programming (my dad subscribed to Reader’s Digest and sometimes bought their mail-order compilations of bland music). Yup, I fancied myself some exotic species of Bohemian. But where I live now - in an Orang Asli resort village in the jungly heart of the peninsula – I’m certainly the most middle-class person around. How many other households here actually have peanut butter and toilet paper on their shopping lists? Indeed, nobody else in Pertak Village has even heard of a shopping list.

I take a measure of pride, though, in the fact that ours is perhaps one of three houses without a TV aerial. My daughter did offer me Astro once but I didn’t want to pay a monthly fee only to get high blood pressure from watching the Bulldog Broadcasting Corporation and the Crap News Network and the icky ooze of putrid commercials. No doubt if highspeed broadband ever comes to the wilds of Ulu Selangor and I can actually stream Netflix, I might just relent and get hooked up - or simply hooked. After all, I’ve already long relented on electronic word processing, the internet, cellular phones, emails and SMSes. In fact, I’m really quite impressed by digital tech.

In my early teens I thought my musical taste was pretty outré (that’s French for astonishing and bizarre). I was picking up records by Edgard Varèse, Conlon Nancarrow, Terry Riley, John Coltrane, and Sun Ra (pictured left). The Beatles made pop respectable for me, and I began to ease off on movie soundtrack albums and progressive jazz à la Dave Brubeck and Charlie Mingus after turning on, tuning in, and dropping out. When a brain-damaged sociopath stole my entire LP collection a few years ago, I figured it was high time I updated myself on the contemporary music scene. However, try as I might, I just couldn’t get into hip-hop, rap, or techno – and death metal made me wish entire sections of the human race would die horribly, especially those generating the noise. Another sign of maturity, I sighed, acknowledging my thinning top and thickening middle in the mirror. But the truth was, I now qualified as a mainstream musical conservative – not unlike that snooty classical music reviewer who once dismissed as “fluff” everything written after 1856.

Not long ago I ventured into a fashionable chill-out joint (more like a low-budget sauna it was) where the in-crowd let their hair down (and their deodorized sweat out) twitching to b&d (bass & drums) and brainless dj scratching and a whole slew of absolutely soulless post-industrial neo-existential yuppie punkfunk. Didn’t do a thing for me. Why can’t they play some really sexy Senegalese m’balax? Or some truly inspired millennial techno-rap like 1 Giant Leap? Could this possibly be the unfortunate result of being born in the 1980s and having to listen to the dumbest music in the history of the Universe? Or just a long-term side effect of chlorinating and fluoridating the water supply?

“De gustibus non est disputandum,” the goddamn Romans used to quip. Can you figure that out? That’s right. There’s no disputing taste. Perhaps not, if everything is relative after all. But I’m still convinced that after a couple of generations, humans who habitually ingest fast foods are bound to suffer acute tastebud damage.

I’ve often been accused of being an “intellectual.” Excuse me, that’s not at all an accurate description, even if I do have a penchant for polysyllables. But I now accept all labels, having learnt to peel them off before the glue dries. Now, the late dramaturge Krishen Jit - bless his huggable soul, may he relish his new job as Director of the Cosmic Theater of the Absurd – he was my definition of an intellectual. Somebody who can’t help conceptualizing reality. Yet, it sometimes occurs to me that if I had been living in China during the so-called Cultural Revolution, I’d probably have been frogmarched to a labor camp and forced to grow kumquats on stony ground, even though I don’t wear half-inch thick glasses (Look, Ma, no contacts either!).

One of my childhood heroes was the Russian-Armenian magician G.I. Gurdjieff (pictured right), who enjoyed calling humans “those two-legged, three-brained beings.” There were no microchips or computers in Gurdjieff’s day, and nobody had heard of nanotech, or he might have said “four-brained beings.” However, Gurdjieff pointed out that to be whole beings we must connect our thinking, feeling, and moving centers and keep them functioning in dynamic equilibrium. The thinking center is located in our brain and neural circuitry. The feeling center is our emotional core, the metaphorical heart, where we experience empathy and compassion. The moving center is combination of ego, libido, and animal instinct (the solar plexus, sacral, and root chakras, if you’re familiar with such concepts).

An overactive moving center makes us dangerously and mindlessly impulsive (shoot first, talk later). Isolating ourselves in the ivory tower of the thinking center makes us Hamlets, beard-stroking theoreticians. And being stuck in the feeling center makes us compulsive consumers of melodrama (condemned to Drama Minggu Ini week after week).

Yup, it’s all a question of relativity. And you have to go through a hellish amount of relativity - demonstrating Heisenberg’s Uncertainty Principle over and over again - before you arrive at that point of Absolute Certainty where latitude and longitude intersect. But, have no fear, we’ll all get there yet. Then, finally, we’ll be able to hang a sign on our front door that says: NO RELATIVES, ONLY ABSOLUTES!

[Originally published in the May 2005 issue of VIDA! First posted 8 January 2007]

Monday, November 6, 2017

Terence McKenna - Gnosticism & the Early Christian Tradition (Lecture)



Published 14 May 2017 by Fractal Youniverse

"The Logos is a voice heard, in the head. And the Logos was the hand on the rudder of human civilization for centuries, up until, in fact, the collapse of the ancient mystery religions and the ascendancy of Christianity to the status of a world religion." - Terence McKenna

This lecture is composed of three different audio segments where Terence is talking about Gnosticism. I am not sure where the first two come from but the last segment is the ending of Alchemy, Magic, and the Hermetic Tradition. Enjoy!

Painting: "The School of Athens" by Raphael

Sunday, November 5, 2017

John Lamb Lash - Lecture on Pre-historic Stellar Mythology



Published 24 Sep 2016 by Ginny Thwaite

In this rare footage of the great heretic John Lamb Lash, he gives a lecture on Stellar Mythology.
He explains from a Comparative Mythologist and naked eye astronomer's view the real sky constellations, and their connection to humanity's history and pre-historic monuments. The monuments and myths go together, they are coded - he is the ultimate decoder and dot connector.

metahistory.org
gaiaspora.org

Thursday, November 2, 2017

Exquisitely Surreal (Though Not Quite Dali)




































I extracted these stunning images from a powerpoint presentation forwarded by a friend. I had no idea who painted them - whether it's the work of one or several artists - until someone named Yo left a comment below informing me that these outstanding works were actually by a 52-year-old Russian artist named Vladimir Kush.

[First posted 29 April 2010]