Wednesday, May 1, 2013
Friday, December 7, 2012
The Serpent Mound points to the cusp of Piscis and Aquarius.
This is like the holy grail; it demonstrates our arrival at the moment in eternity when we are free to choose. The eternally present Now. The sun solar image represents the vesica, and the womb of sky, and the triangle represent the crown of sky and the agni-crown biocosmic ladder. The serpent swallows the initiate and the initiate dissolves to enter the "otherworld" of the emotional body, accessing serpent kundalini's pineal gland's moleculer jet fuel for astral travel. Two destinations above and below: Plieades and Hu Nob Ku. The serpent's gland mirrors the triangle's shape, across the "egg". It is both inside the serpent's head, and simultaneously outside the serpent's head. A biocosmic journey through the serpent ladder, inside and outside our heads. A fractal universe and an internal dimension accessed with the assistance of the emotional and sensory nervous system, by distracting the frontal lobes temporarily, allowing the sensory systems current to reverse, causing the serpent ladder to swallow the initiate, and begin the cosmic adventure beyond lifetimes, in the biocosmic temple. The access bridge is an emotional roller coaster, but its ultimately a psychological paradigm in which loving kindness, respect, and gentle speech, and quick to forgive self and others. These are the keys to the Kingdom, I left the light on for you.
Tuesday, December 4, 2012
Chariots of the Gods O Black King is Killed
The King of Hearts in the crosshair’s way
His lady carried his body to lay
The Black King was killed
The Country ablaze
The Chariots of the Gods
Entered the fray
They shattered the ceiling
And shook all the hay
Crossed the divide by night and by day.
Osiris now dead. Later Horus done away
His Chariot down and no one can say
Then Gog and Magog melt or shatter to dust
So nobody minds now if the war is unjust
Treasures are looted, blind daggers are thrust
Our chain is unbroken and drags on the muster
Of mothers and sons who'll pick-up the costs
Of running machines on the blood of our host
While a sun burns inside her, old mother looks grim
What to suppose of her sun within?
The day is at hand and we’re rooting for him
He’s already landed; the back way slipped in.
So the chariots of fire will soon begin
to ferry us back to the old times when,
the temple girls weren’t ascending.
The chariots of fire were tending to inspire
The whole holy host from the lowest to the higher
Give me a dose, sittin' by the fire and hear what
the women are playing.
Friday, November 30, 2012
One of the four themes in‘Olympic Medicine’, found in Cultural Anxiety, by Lopez Pedraza , is the consciousness of ‘fault’. I have not read this book; although I am familiar with the gist of it The consciousness of ‘fault’ makes me think of “the grandfather of sports” CHUK (pronounced like a “chunk”of foam.) This quasi-sport was a spiritual practice in disguise. It started spontaneously; but, It was my second and third acid “trips” in late December, in1973, with the High School “jocks” that I laughed with,, who were my friends. I initiated the Chuk one night in the Fall, when everyone looked burned out and lethargic, but I wanted action. I was inspired by some vague notion of a Native American sport, I couldn’t rightly say what it was called. Thus keeping a piece of foam rubber in motion, without contaminating the practice with obtuse rules, nor appointing losers. I lobbied hard and long to maintain Chuk in its pure state, without rules. People constantly tried to modify the Chuk with rules. In fact, the leitmotif: “Become 1 with the Chuk ”was the only rule. There were no rules, that was the first precept. “Don’t say you’re sorry, because we aren’t doing anything”, was the second precept. Keep it going, don’t interrupt the flow, was the third precept. Lastly, If ever the chuk, or somebody, appears to do something nearly impossible, or after a particularly rewarding round of chuking- applaud, in a gentlemanly fashion.
When you have swooped down, spun around, swung your blind arm and caught the chuk, shooting it off the wall, where it makes a wide arc, rolls slowly through space, connects with a foot it, shoots across the room, you dive across the room smack the Chuk sending it back, immediately its heading back to the last corner, instantly you jump like a cat, battling gravity for control of the chuk, and taking control you pass it it with a precise smack, slowing it down. The Chuk moves at lightning speed off the ceiling, off the floor, off of you. The key is to concentrate on the chuk. Eventually the “state of Chuk” is entered into. The state of Chuk hasmany names. It’s been called the flow, the zone, runner’s high; it is a higher state of awareness; but more than that, it is a higher state of being, probably closely related to the primordial condition of human beings, the instinctual animal humanWho was not a lout, more like a dancer.
There is a transformational state that occurs when your concentration becomes one with the chuk. Conscious awareness supersedes the tyranny of the linguistic mode, and the anxieties attendant upon discourse. Allowing the motor cortex to feed on energy exchanged in the hunt for the Chuk . The state of Chuk reminds me of the movie Highlander, when the immortals undergo a rite of passage, called “the quickening”, in which their powers increase amidst a storm of electro-magnetic sparks , and much wailing. Chuk accelerates reflex time, and develops the motor cortex. Very importantly, our attention is free from the winner-loser anxiety, so awfully common among people. Chuk was a collective Win-all-around. The state of Chuk was the prize. The evening of December 31 1973, Chuk was recovered from the breast of eternity. That night myself and two others took 3 and 1/3 hits of mescaline and played Chuk in my basement long into the wee hours of the morn. We entered an alternative universe, very close to our own, one in which we were both particle and wave. We leapt and hurled and twirled ourselves after the Chuk and occassionaly when it would get stuck on the ceiling light, or jam itself into the corner of the ceiling, we froze, and spontaneously applauded politely. A wild man sport of uttermost integrity. We put our hearts into that round after round. We’d smoke the calabash, and resume. While in the throes of Chuk, verbalizations erupted like bird talk, or short grunts which raised our hilarity to a crescendo. The sense of freedom was indescribable. The freedom from the anxiety attendant on winner-loser gamesmanship, gave Chukits well deserved title: “the grandfather of sports”. Chuk is a transcendental path that we discovered by chance. When I “became one” with the Chuk, I re-organized the hyperspherical dimensions of this universe that I am in, that I am. Our bodies were still three dimensional, but the single pointed concentration was a one-dimensional paradox; one dimensional consciousness, absolutely pristine awareness. I can still achieve this single pointed concentration simply by imagining the Chuk is about to be dropped into play. The mark of Chuk, you know you are getting close when people start spontaneously laughing, even though, theoretically we aren’t doing anything. .
Wednesday, November 28, 2012
Dragons in Her Mist. I saw an apparition of the mighty Niagara's Dragon at the foot of the American Falls as I painted this scene. It was a simulacra that appeared in the torrential thundering mist and waterfalls. In the distance a second dragon apparition appeared in a vertical ascent. The sky depicts the City of Light as an ideal image, appearing through an atmospheric lens, the lighthouse links Buffalo's City Hall to the Pharos Lighthouse of Alexandria and the goddess Isis.