Archive for the 'Into The Light' Category
An Actual Really Truly Live “Good Friday” Would Mean A Naked Stoned Hippie Woman Sirened Jesus Onto A Plane, Bound For The Great Ride Open, Flying Him Forever And Away From The CrossPublished April 17, 2014 Animal Matters , Capital Crime , Eros , Eternal Recurrence , First Peoples , Into The Light , Israel/Palestine , Johnny Law , La Musica , Oddbins , Outer Limits , Sunday Services , Variations In B-Flat , What's Good Leave a Comment
‘Cause otherwise, he’s going to have to go through this.
He is so much better off. With the naked stoned hippie woman. In the great ride open.
Maundy Thursday is the Christian feast, or holy day, falling on the Thursday before Easter. It commemorates the Maundy and Last Supper of Jesus . . . Most scholars agree that the English word Maundy in that name for the day is derived through Middle English and Old French mandé, from the Latin mandatum, the first word of the phrase “Mandatum novum do vobis ut diligatis invicem sicut dilexi vos.” (“A new commandment I give unto you, That ye love one another; as I have loved you, that ye also love one another.”)
I won’t leave the attic
and with apologies to Apollinaire I can smoke
while working. I’m doing it
I’m going to it. The jerks are working
empty handed and then they pick up
twigs. Now they want to smoke me
out, but I’m too bat-like!
too happy with my stash and rock and
roll. Unlike the souffle below
who intends to burst. Deep breath, funny air.
So apparently there is some rich-fuck rightwing racist shameless welfare-recipient Mormon-underpants-wearing rancher wantonly roaming his cows over public land for which he has not paid grazing fees for more than 30 years.
This nit-knock has deluded a Reality wherein the federal government don’t mean shit; only, so says he, shall he acknowledge the government of the State of Nevada. He’ll pay them, says he, the state people, to graze, his cattle, over land that don’t belong to him, but he won’t pay no feds.
Next, he’ll be raving on about how he gets to keep slaves.
‘Cause that is jist the sort of git, that this git is.
I am mostly— when not earning my crust in the folly of the law—painting oils, and planting seeds, these days.
Occasionally, I’ll peer into a tube.
That’s how I found out about this old nutbag Nevada sunburnt Mormon, who insists he can ejaculate his cows, for free, all over public land.
And my question, it is this: didn’t we already have the monolith?
Didn’t the true-life documentary film 2001: A Space Odyssey document the true fact that ape-men, they stood before a powerful passing planted black slab, millions of years ago, and thereby grew a brain?
So that we are actually millions of years beyond this yeehaw screaming till his lips bleed that he has a “natural right” to freely and flagrantly cornhole his cows on public land?
I am simply not allowing this crazed cattle-cornholer into my universe.
For he is like a species-appendix. Some weirdsmobile, completely shrunken and malfunctional organ, that may, several million years ago, have actually had a purpose. But, these days, we have no idea what that purpose may have been.
He is an old and desiccated desert rat, and soon he shall die. And, though his of-family people—who are many and manifold, because he refused in his lifetime to control in any way his loins—shall upon his memory weep, soon no one will remember anything about him.
Because, in the great wide open to come, all the land, will belong to everybody.
It is the bare beginnings of this, that this cornholing Rancher Retrovert, he cannot abide.
Too bad for him.
He’s already over.
We, of the seed people, we have gone long beyond all the galloping cornholing Rancher Retrovert horseshit that appears each day in the “news.”
This blah NSA blah Ukraine blah Nevada horse-ass blah blah blah blah.
Who gives a shit. None of them have ever once touched the monolith. They are so hundreds of millions of years behind the times. Just let them go. They don’t even actually exist. Close our minds to them: and they are gone. Willed-away wisps.
I am growing feverfew. Also, sunflowers. Moonflowers. Hot peppers. Potatoes. Some several different-one blueberries. I am growing passionflower—where it is not supposed to grow. Because I can, and I will. Dill. I am growing. Meadowsweet. Fairies. Magic. I am growing. Sage. Unto immortal May. I am growing. Madder. To dye all us good Celts red. As it has always been written. As even unto today it is done. I am growing. I am surrounding myself with garlic and arnica. I am growing. Buckwheat. It will be all and everywhere. I am growing. All the opium and wormwood: I shall plant thee: and then thee, shall, in vision, plant thyself in me.
I am growing.
I am no longer a sterile shrunken intertubes pod. “Living,” on a screen.
I am growing.
I am coming round here. Just about midnight.
It was as though they were sluggish oxen who refused to move. The world was a cart to which they were yoked; Jesus goaded them on, and they shifted under the yoke but did not budge. Looking at them, Jesus felt drained of all his strength. The road from earth to heaven was a long one, and there they were, motionless.
—Nikos Kazantzakis, The Last Temptation of Christ
—In Somalia is a law that makes it a crime to place chewing gum on your nose and then walk around in public.
—While Jesus allegedly changed water into wine, the Sixth Century Irish nun St. Brigit would, when visitors dropped by, transform her used bathwater into beer.
—Some 4% of the American public believes that “shape-shifting reptilian people control our world by taking on human form and gaining political power to manipulate our societies.”
—In Japan are mayonnaise-flavored Doritos.
—The recent referendum on independence for Venice saw 2.36 million votes cast. Some 2.1 million of the people, they voted for independence. Some of these people are getting a little feisty and impatient. So, like, they built a tank. In it, they intend, alpha and omega, to roll away the dew.
were you ever driving at 3 in the morning down some 2 lane road in upstate new york & it was raining & the only thing you can get on the radio is some station out of memphis or someplace which comes in perfectly clear & plays great music like life is but a dream du wop du wop & you just turn it up & say to yourself “what the fuck, what the fuck?” well that’s how i feel walking to the post office.
I am on top of the Empire State Building leaning on the railing which I have carefully examined to see if it’s strongly made. The sound of it comes all that way, up, to me. A hum. Thousands of ventilators far away. Now and then I hear an improbable clank. The air, even up here, is warmed by it.
To the north a large green rectangle, Central Park, lies flat, clean-edged, indented. A skin has been pulled off, a bandage removed, and a small section of the Planet has been allowed to grow.
I think, “They have chosen to do this in order to save their lives.” And then I think, “It is not really a section of the Planet, it is a perfect imitation of a section of the Planet (remembering the zoo). It is how they think it might look.” I am struck by their wisdom. Moved.
The elevator is not too crowded. We are all silent and perfectly behaved, except a little girl who is whispering something to her mother. Her mother holds her hand and bends down to listen. The little girl giggles. Hunching her shoulders and screwing up her face. She has told her mother something outrageous.
In the lobby are people who are really doing it, not like us, just looking around. They wear the current costume and read the office directories beside the banks of elevators. I realize there are offices in the Empire State Building! It is not just a tower to look from!
It all starts coming in, on the street. Each one is going somewhere, thinking. Many are moving their lips, talking to themselves. In 2 blocks I am walking as fast as they are. We all agree to wait when the light turns red.
In the subway it is more intense. Something about being under the ground? It is horrifying to let it all come in, in the subway.
A gust of dirty air hits me as I rise out of it at the 7th Ave. subway exit. I am relieved, perhaps because the buildings are lower, the street wider, the intersection a jumble of crazy angles?
∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞
Years ago, somewhere inconceivably else, I could have been given a strange assignment.
He was a short man, gray haired but mostly bald. He explained the thing to me in a homey kind of office.
“I can fix you up to be, actually be, a Native of a World,” he said. “You won’t be like them, you will be one of them. Think the way they do, see as they see etc with exactly their physical and mental equipment. You can see, of course, what this means! It means your data, for the first time, will be absolutely accurate. You will, in every sense, know what it is to be one.”
I have forgotten all he said about the reports I’d have to make on my return, but I can almost remember the taste of the potion I got. Brassy, but not too bad.
And what is happening during moments like that on the Empire State building is simply that the potion’s effect is flickering out. There are moments of wakefulness, and it all starts coming in.
You see it on the faces of the others. They are all more or less drugged. Many are as straight or straighter than you are, but are pretending not to be. As you are pretending not to be.
It is then, while watching the ones who are actually doing it (not like us, just looking around), that you realize there are only people more or less drugged into this vast, insane, assignment.
There are no natives!
and under the boughs unbowed
all clothed in snowy shroud
she had no heart so hardened
all under the boughs unbowed
Miep, you say:
Blueness, did you hear about that poor man who got shot down in the hills by the ABQ police? My other friends and I were all very upset. There are people trying to arrest the ABQ police department now. It’s horrible. Firing squads dressed up in police suits.
Blueness, he was just up there camping in the hills, because it got to be too much for him. And our delightful asshole culture sent a bunch of dudes up there after him with a trained attack dog and assault rifles.
And they murdered him after they escalated the situation. After he agreed to surrender.
He was just camping.
Fucking shot him down. He turned away. I’ve had friends who were that upset. They fucking shot him down. He could have been a good friend of mine from earlier back in my life. They fucking shot him down. “Firing Squad Dressed Up In Police Costumes.”
Who knows who that man was? He could have been a lover, a painter, an artist. He could have been our best friend.
Fucking shot him down.
I love how you hew to non-violence, Blueness. That’s a tough road to travel.
And I say: how can I not hew to non-violence?
If I do not, then someday, in spirit, or in flesh, I will be up there, down there, just like them, them ABQ law-jockeys, knuckles drug all the way into the ground, fucking shooting someone down, because s/he did, basically, not sufficiently walk, like me, talk, like me.
and i will hang my head
hang my head
And I cannot do that, because, all those other all and everys, they’re me.
I know this. Whenever I ever encounter any other being on this, or any other, planet—animal, mineral, vegetable—I know that being is me.
How can people not see this?
How can people hurt and kill themselves?
Beats me. Beats us all. All us all.
I have arisen not from the dead. But from the living. And I am not a voice crying in the wilderness. For there is no winter here. No dark. No despair. The lights are going on in my house. For there is no darkness anywhere. I have all my lights on. And it is my own face, I see in the blazing windows of all the houses on earth.
Once upon an all and every, we were all of one undifferentiated consciousness, spanning all of space and time. Anything we wanted to be, any place we could be, we would be. All and every one of us. And always together.
Somewhere along the line, it was determined—probably by somebody like Satan—that such shit was, well, boring.
It was all happy and wrapped and loving and snug and snuggly and all, but, like, where was the great wide open?
What might it be like if one could shed the other 400 trillion beings clinging to the brain-pan, and live a life just as a one?
It’ll be, like, fun.
And so, they—we—did that.
And, from that, is where we, here on earth, get terms like “shrieking,” “ululating,” “rending their garments,” “biting through their tongues,” “scraping the shit off their skin with pot-shards,” “screaming till their lips bleed,” “blowing their brains out,” and other pleasantries.
I mean: think: why is the first thing a baby born into this world, do do, is cry?
Because that baby being, having moved from the collective consciousness, to the trapped caged lonely consciousness of singular, feels that hollowness and estrangement and alienation and radio silence, and then realizes: oh shit. I wanna go back.
All life. Of every human being. On this planet. Is about wanting to go back. To the undifferentiated cloud. To the great wide open.
All of everything every human has ever been about, here, is about that.
“Love,” always and every acknowledged in every culture as some sort of misty grail, is so acknowledged because it is the closest the scraped-off individualized human loonily marooned on this planet can get, to what it was, all and always. where they came from, where all were suffused in one, all were in touch, all were one.
Miep: the download, to this planet, from the collective to the individual: in this there are variables.
There are, like, the fucking rawboned mutant ruined Bill Gates 666 Windows downloads, which result in monsters like those ABQ cops, who feel no kin to anyone, ‘cept maybe pit bulls, and so slaver to kill, conquer, subdue, smile, smirk.
Whereas people like you and I, we are more suffused with something like the Eden-promise of Apple, when it was still but the gentle dream in Steve Wozniak’s soul, there in the puttering Palo Alto garage, long before the grasping money-souled Steve Jobs seized hold of it, and transformed it into Product.
It’s all going to be okay, Miep. Because we really are all one soul, and one being. And this all is just a temporary experiment, one disastrously launched upon because, up there in “heaven,” we got bored.
That’s what all this all is all about.
In getting there, some of us incarnate as dumbshit pit bulls, like the ABQ cops. And some incarnate as people who, like you, pet tarantulas, and feel so much you can barely stand to wake each day.
We all, eventually, one by one, decided up there, that this was a good idea.
We have to trust that it really is.
I believe it is.
I believe we will all go again into the great wide open. And without bodies. Which is the way that we came here. But we will go back out with individual “minds.” Within the collective ones.
And I believe that, when we at last swirl really away, a la Childhood’s End, we will retroactively bring with us all incarnated corporeal beings ever sentenced to this planet.
Which is what, fumbling, people like Jesus and Buddha were trying to get to.
And now you know. Why, really, I no longer post on the cross of Daily Kos.
As neither do you.
you can take
all the tea in china
put it in a big brown bag for me
sail it right around
all the seven oceans
drop it straight into the deep blue sea