Robin

I have most of my hearing back today – coming and going, it is true, but more here than not-here.

I stepped out on the decking which runs along the West Street side of the office and immediately a little bird flew down to sing at me. A robin.

Later, the same bird was perched, singing, on the second-floor fire escape, while I looked up at it and a pigeon on the third floor railing looked down on it.

Ken Wilber:

That very Witness is Spirit within, looking out on a world that it created. It sees but cannot be seen; it hears but cannot be heard; it knows but cannot be known. It is Spirit itself that sees with your eyes, speaks with your lips, hears with your ears, reaches out with your arms. When will you confess this simple secret and awaken from the gruesome nightmare? 

Can you see the words on this page? Then 100% of Spirit is present, looking out through your eyes. Can you feel the book in your hands? Then 100% of Spirit is present, taking the world in its hands. Can you hear the sound of that bird singing? Then 100% of Spirit is present, listening to that song. 

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Spider Dreams

Can we take a single step which we have not mapped out for ourselves?

Is this Creation entire, without the possibility of stepping outside of its bounds?

Are we simultaneously dreaming and being?

For if we are both the dreamer and the dream, no misstep is possible – it’s not even possible to formulate that possibility.

Creator and Creation entire, whole, flawless and without boundary.

Styx

Beneath the ground, a river runs.

In the darkness of the mass unconscious, a river flows.

Some of us it flows right through and others of us it flows around, and under – and we get to dip a toe in  it now and again.

Some of us were born with the river within, and some have opened their veins to admit it.

But all of us were born of the river.

It is the source and constant flow of all of Life. Endless, eternal, never ceasing.

To merge with its waters is the sublime experience of death, for from the river’s flow arises all that is.

Five rivers do encircle Hades but this river is just the One. Which flows. Underground.

Image: eronzki999

Quantum Nonmechanics

The entire universe must, on a very accurate level, be regarded as a single indivisible unit in which separate parts appear as idealisations permissible only on a classical level of accuracy of description. This means that the view of the world being analogous to a huge machine, the predominant view from the sixteenth to nineteenth centuries, is now shown to be only approximately correct. The underlying structure of matter, however, is not mechanical. This means that the term “quantum mechanics” is very much a misnomer. It should, perhaps, be called “quantum nonmechanics”.

David Bohm~ Quantum Theory (1951)51)

Coming Back to Life

There I was, walking down by the river.

A river running through steep banks of earth and grass in haphazard tufts.

A river not notable for its cleanliness, but neither noticed for its dirtiness – a river not very much noticed at all.

The banks, however, were strewn with civilization’s rubbish; bits of paper and plastic, stickers and labels, all in smallish pieces and none of them whole items in themselves.

As I walked, I came across a brown envelope stuffed with …documents, apparently. Certificates, acknowledgments, results of examinations, testimonials. All of them mine.

I took the envelope unto myself.

There are many methods of soul retrieval, but vivid dreams must be one of the most satisfying.

image:Bags Revolt

Released

 

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Well, as we head into a long Easter weekend here in Joburg, I can only say that it has been an incredibly…interesting week. So far, anyway.

Starting from a base of sudden radical worldwide distrust for all things digital – and Facebook in particular – my personal world wide web experience only slid rapidly downhill from there.

On Twitter, I was wont to engage in many a “conversation” between radfems on the one hand and transgender activists on the other.

Yes – I have a bias in this field. It is the bias which informs me that humans do not change their sex – especially after marrying, siring several children and hitting male menopause – and that this is a broad biological fact (nuanced I’ll grant and nothing is quite that cut-and dried but a general rule nonetheless) and that males who believe, against all the evidence, that they were “born in the wrong body” and are suddenly really women have pain and brokenness I can only guess at, but that this disturbance should under no circumstances grant them a free pass into females’ safe spaces, dressing rooms, toilets, girl-guide organisations and sports. Not to mention All-Women party Lists.

Well and so at one stage, fed up with the death threats, the vile name-calling and the general abusive-male-type behaviour from the transgender Twitterati, I called a member of the UK Green Party (who call women “non-men”) “a broken human being”. This earned me, after a couple of days, a 12-hour suspension from my Twitter account.

I went along with the instructions to delete the “violent” tweets and was reinstated. Ho, dear blogger community, but what did I do then but proceed to call the same Green Party transwoman a broken man. 7-day lock out.

I uninstalled Twitter from all my devices and felt an uncommon sense of having been released. From the cesspit, dear Goddess, deliver us. Even if it takes a huge whack across the chops to do so.

Not having my nose in Twitter has hugely cleared my head. I am even leaning towards taking up regular blogging again; you know, that environment in which we can use vastly more than 280 characters to say what we need to say, where our peers are not deranged, where we can witness the exceptional and beautiful use of the English language again and at bloody last.

The same day on which I recognised this growing tendency to return to sanity, I read a comment left, unnoticed, on my mirror blog (aquilakahecate.wordpress.com) from a fellow blogger I hadn’t heard from in many years, and rekindled a conversation.

In addition, my wonderful, intelligent and emotionally highly competent son seems to have started up blogging again within the last few days – see my sidebar, “Finding My Routes”.

Resolving to notice once more when the universe is trying to get my attention, I leave you, dear blogger community, with a wish-promise to reconnect with you again in the near future – for I believe that this is the future trend for those of us who still cling, however tenuously, to our Earthly sanity.

What They Are

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So I’ve been practising keeping the knowledge that what things look like and what they are are two different things at the forefront of consciousness – taking in, along the way, a breathtaking encounter with a newly-budded rose at eye level, my canine and human companions, and random structures along the roads I ramble every day.

It makes a difference – and not too long after starting to use this enhanced sight, at that. One great side-effect was that I started to smile more, unbidden. And then I found myself laughing inside much more, as the well of grace and bliss which is at the core of every volunteer to this earthly habitat became gradually clearer, more uncovered and accessible.

Holding the knowledge that every form we apprehend is a blob of energy of various frequencies – and no sharp edges – opens up the kundalini path to your true nature. Or at least a bit of it.

But this seeing can work both ways.

I was horrified, last night, when we switched the telly onto the news channel run by Sky, and the well-groomed presenters, talking heads and roving journos all suddenly appeared hideously ugly.

Their outward masks hadn’t actually changed, as I quickly ascertained. It was just that their insides were showing.

And the lopsided, broken-down, tired and squinting faces of the daemons behind the masks became visible to me. The System of Control – the Empire Which Never Ended, the Wetiko Culture – speaks, gibbers and leers through these human interfaces. No, no, it’s not a persona – like the Christian/Islamic/Hebrew idea of Satan – I see reaching through the goddamned-noisy-box to babble in our ears and put the filters of fear over our eyes. It’s more an idea, a complex of ideas, a culture, if you will.

It has been tightening up its grip on all conscious life forms for thousands of years, and the screw is turning even faster these days.

Horrified I was, but not in despair. I felt an incredible lightness on finally seeing the carnival of horrors directly exposed.

A lightness , and a welling desire to laugh, and laugh, and fall over laughing with tears in my eyes. And a huge sense of relief.