Between Jerusalem I’m Sorry, Chapter 10

The Cosmic Rose by Hans Vredman de Vries? 1595, Public domain, via Wikimedia Commons

You Can Gimmie my Car

A day later, on what would be my last day in Safed, as I’d be leaving the first thing the next morning, someone came out of the woodwork and invited me to spend my last night at his house. I’d seen him a time or two, but he wasn’t part of the scene at the studio, although he was an expat American. Like Moshehiem, he was a little older than the rest. He had an apartment a ways down the street from the square the studio was on. When I arrived he told me it was movie night, and we’d be watching a movie with some friends of his that were coming over, but first he wanted to talk to me, see who and how I was.

The first thing I noticed was that I wasn’t a non-Jew with him. I was just another person he didn’t yet know to like or not. This is a hard thing to define, but with most of the other Jews there I could feel this thing between us, a way they had of looking at me inside themselves whereby I was outside of people they identified with. Let me explain. We are taught to value more what someone says to us than the taste of their consciousness towards us, because the latter is so subjective, but it’s in the latter we more live, move, and have our being. It’s the encounter we have with one another in the waters of consciousness that’s the real event, which the words are just markers for, more often than not masks concealing what the consciousness is really feeling towards the other. Study yourself when talking with someone, whomever they might be, and see if your words ring true to, or even come close to capturing, all the many different things you’re feeling inside while talking to them. If you can see it’s the same with them then you can see what I’m saying.

He was in his early 30s as I was, had a head of black curly hair slightly longer than men wore their hair there and a body a little on the heavy side but not actually fat. He had a round, clear face and the type of look in his eyes that tried to let in what they saw, not just study it, but they were not yet the open windows to the soul eyes can be. He told me that, unbeknownst to the others, and he’d like to keep it that way, he’d been the president of a Hare Krishna temple in America. I’ve forgotten where, as I’ve also forgotten his name, but to honor his universality I’ll call him Krishna. He was also a student of the Kabbalah and one that seemed to know more about it than anyone I’d yet met expect Kathinka, a painter in Jerusalem, who figured in our hunger strike because her art studio was the closest building to our camp near Jaffa Gate and because she was a beautiful person, and she figured prominently in my life after Safed, as a friend. She got her world expanded when she met me. I mean her ‘you gotta be a Jew to go deep’. Simply you just have to show the Way is not bound by Judaism. A non-Jew can practice the whole nine yards. She was surprised at me, delighted ultimately. Krishna didn’t know the Kabbalah in the sense of having had deep mystical experience himself, or at least not that I gathered, but he did in the sense of recognizing it when he heard it. He had an intellectual understanding of higher states of consciousness, but it was more than most had, who seemed to associate the Kabbalah more with magic than a change of consciousness into a higher mode. The very first thing he wanted to hear from me, however, was the Hitler poem he’d heard about.

When I finished reciting it, Krishna looked at me a long moment and then declared that the poem was Kabbalah. I got the impression he was saying something just to validate me, something that sounded good but was virtually meaningless. I asked him what he meant by that; does it capture the whole of the Kabbalah or what? He then surprised me by talking about soul healing and how much the Kabbalah had to do with the soul and how it heals. Up until that moment I’d not glimpsed the depth of the Kabbalah and was beginning to believe, as I keep saying, that it had more to do with magic than honest to God real spirituality. Later, with Kathinka, I was to learn it’s even mapped out the higher spiritual states overhead and at least had some idea of Supermind, but more like a forbidden zone. I had had no idea the Kabbalah was so deep, had gauged that far. That means somewhere along the way a Jewish mystic had experienced it.

We were sitting in his living room, he reclined on an easy chair and me on a cushioned sofa. It was a small apartment, and, like most of the ones I’d been in, had been part of a larger stone house that appeared to be a hundred years old or more. He was very relaxed and put me at ease in the way he just let his hair down. He explained why he invited me to spend the night. The day before was Shabbot, and, as with every Shabbot, all the young American’s came over to his house to pray, but on this Shabbot, which was the one I got excluded from, they didn’t pray but talked about the goy, which was me. He said he was in his living room praying and they in the den, and by his description of everything I got the impression he was somebody in their religious circle they looked up to, but he never claimed to be anybody in particular nor spoke of himself as someone anyone would look to for spiritual guidance.

He said they were making such a racket he got up from his prayer and went to the group, who were all kneeling on the floor in a prayer circle, about six or seven young men and women, and he told them they were there to pray, not talk, especially not about other people, and that he didn’t want the word goy used in his house, and that for all anyone knew I could be the Mashiach. That I wasn’t Jewish but still could be the Jewish mashiach, at least for that one moment he wanted to get his point across, the point being I was as important as anyone else and should be afforded the same respect as everybody, shows you what kind of person Krishna was. After telling them that, he sent them all out of his house. He said watching them leave was when he decided to invite me over, and here I was.

Hearing all that, and wanting to impress him, validate his standing up for a stranger, and to give him something in return, as anything we say captained by an ego always has mixed motives behind it, I took a look at my merit badges on my chest, err, my spiritual experiences I wore on my sleeve, and I chose to tell him about the two I had driving my black, Datsun, pickup truck I was driving earlier in this book. They are related, the two experiences I mean. He got a very abbreviated version of the two experiences, but I have the time and place here to tell them more fully, but both have been posted on the net in different places.

It was 1991. I don’t renember how long it’d been since the journey to the well of soul, but I think it was only a week or so, that reaching of my deepest place acting like a springboard up. I remember I was looking at a horned moon that had a bright star, or planet, right on its bottom tip, and I could not keep my eyes off it, although I was driving, from my mom’s house to my apartment just off Old Galveston Road a few kilometers from NASA, the apartment by the railroad tracks. Apartments lined both sides of the street, which wasn’t straight but formed a very long curve. I was stoned on some good grass, had been stoned all day, like I was everyday more or less, and I’d just put out a cigarette. On the radio was playing the Led Zeppelin song “Whole Lotta Love”. I can add sex to the equation to make it equal to sex, drugs, and rock ‘n’ roll, but let’s just say that I wasn’t bramachari in those days, although I wasn’t at that moment having sex at the steering wheel, did not have the type of person I’m attracted to there in the truck with me, which is a little boy (I was currently waving in my commitment to the person growth process towards wholeness and healing but would presently get a fresh upgrade). I say all this so to illustrate my path, which is of darkness to light, the very misunderstood tantric left-handed path. It’s misunderstood because people think you choose it. You don’t. You take it because it takes you. I mean, you’re this thing that can’t or doesn’t control itself, which is a debate that has raged for ever, who has the control, you or it, and the path just takes you by the balls.

The song was in that strange stretch of sounds it makes that pull you from the inside, swirling and whirling as they do, and suddenly I found myself a few meters over my head looking down at myself through the roof of the truck as the little me drove it. I say little because that person down there, the whole world he was in, was just an appendage of myself, and not the main event, not even close. I was no longer him but something infinitely bigger. I was very remote from the world on the high end of a long thin line on the bottom of which was that little me, who I could see was in prison so incredibly small and boxed in was his world, which I was no longer in or even in his universe but was beyond both. This I just knew, but it wasn’t what captured my attention.

I was Me! Finally I’d found myself. This was who I was, where I began and where I’d inevitably return, the Person that had ventured into the world’s ocean of lives, the Individual I was beyond all and that watched the adventure from on high. This wasn’t interpretation afterwards but what I knew being Myself. I also knew that when I’d return to the little me I’d never be able to render the experience in any form that would give a true picture of it because we can only see only one pole of experience at a time down here. My vision saw through everything I was driving past, from up there, although I was in a perfect stillness and not moving at all, something that doesn’t sound possible down here in finite littleness.

As I drove down the street, the little me negotiating the curve without my help, I saw through the apartment walls to the people sitting or standing in them, saw through them to their natures, saw through and into the heart of anything I looked at, saw like the One sees because I was one with whatever I saw, and it was the One I saw myself as, not God as you might think, but I knew at the same time I was only a portion of its total see.

I can describe the way my mind thought thoughts, which was like they had substance and weren’t separate from what they thought about or from the outside world, if there was an inside and outside to that Me, as it seemed to me a different arrangement than we have down here, one where there was no separation from the inner and outer, but I’m going into speculation and interpretation, and so I’ll just say that, as suddenly as I found myself up there, I found myself back in my sense-bound prison down here, and I parked my truck in the nearest driveway and cried my eyes out, both overwhelmed by the experience and by the loss of who I really am, and I vowed to become myself again, whatever it takes.

A year later I was driving that same truck, but this time down a Central Texas highway going 55 miles an hour, and I experienced the full force of Silent Mind. I knew something was about to happen in my consciousness, unlike with the overhead experience, and so I’d taken the weekend off to go camping at a place I considered safe for me, a place of power, somewhere I’d been going to since I was a teenager, Enchanted Rock, a State Natural Area in West Central Texas. I was a different person than the year before. The overhead experience had changed my life, turned it completely around. The spiritual path is one thing if you’re on it because you believe there’s a goal, I mean a goal other than going to Heaven when you die, a goal like enlightenment or becoming your higher self, but if you know it’s there because you’ve seen it with your own eyes, or have been it, even for only several seconds as I had, doubt is removed, and without a doubt you as to where you’re going you go. We are very stubborn and ignorant creatures, and the problem with experiences, even one where you become your true self a moment, is that the effects don’t last, those that make you focus solely on the Path and that get you out of moral troubles.

When I drove home from that overhead experience, from being for a moment who I am in reality, and I cannot stress enough that that’s the overwhelming thing you come back with, I had a mission: get back up there, become Myself again. The problem was, I had no idea how or where I might find anyone, anywhere, that knew about the experience. Descriptions of what’s described as enlightenment or realization did not even come close, but I as yet had no idea what that was, enlightenment I mean, only that, by the descriptions, you are still in the little prison down here, albeit unconcerned with it so peaceful, empty, and blissed out you are. I began searching spiritual books, but I couldn’t even find a description of overhead experience, let alone of being that God-self up there.

It happened I bought a book on Tibetan Buddhism by Evans-Wenz, and I found what I thought to be a possible reference to overhead experience, and so I began to pour over the Tibetan writings he’d translated, which consist of three books, focusing on the book the reference was in, Tibetan Yoga and Secret Doctrines. It bears mentioning that, sometime later, I read a different English translation of what I’d read there, and there was not even a hint of an overhead experience. Whatever the case, the book did its magic, but it wasn’t to be ‘getting back up there’ that I got out of it, but a momentary experience of enlightenment, a glimpse of reality, how Buddhists put it, but they just have no idea how big reality is.

Using that book, I constructed a sadhana, or spiritual practice, based not only on that book but on my own ideas of what that might entail, deciding to just do all of the above. I quite smoking cigarettes, entirely, any indulgence of sex, stopped the daily smoking of grass, but I allowed myself a joint for a special meditation one day a week, which was in a dark closet I used once a day for my daily half hour meditation, where I just tried to stop all thoughts. I became a vegetarian, but I ate a cheese burger and fries every Friday afternoon, and I can’t tell you how appropriate that was, did a daily routine of the basic yoga asanas, did pranayama, breathing exercises, for one full hour before going to sleep, jogged a few miles one day and did a five mile ‘rucksack march’ the next, stopped any unnecessary chatter with everyone, even Randy, the best friend I told you about earlier, didn’t have a TV, but I made sure I didn’t pay attention to my mom’s when I visited her, which was seldom during that time, didn’t go to the movies or read anything except that book, played continuously a cassette tape of the OM whenever I was in my apartment, even during sleep, and made my mind think about nothingness (because that’s what the book said) as much as I could remember to make it do that.

I should mention that, although I was strict about doing the routine, I wasn’t rigid about it, as you can see from the cheese burger, and I would not do this or that practice if it was inopportune, or something presented itself that appeared to be something that would take me in the direction I wanted to go in a more opportune way at that moment. Sundays was my day of rest from the more physical practices, but I still maintained the sadhana attitude in speech and deed Sundays too. I had one Greek class a day during the week, mornings, and usually an hour or more of homework, which I did at work, and I worked the 3 to 11 shift five days a week at Four Leaf Towers, as a doorman and valet. It should hardly need mentioning that I continued inner exploration throughout. This sadhana I just described I did for about three months. Although I’d worked up to it over the course of time, having begun things like meditation and pranayama before even the soul experience, I came to the point where it appeared to me it was do or die; that I had to just put my life into it, and I could do that because I had no doubt there was a there to go to. But I had no idea what getting up there again entailed, to my true self, since I’d just suddenly found myself in that sitting station above my head without so much as a hold onto your hat, and it didn’t occur to me that wasn’t the usual way it happens. I didn’t know how it happened.

I felt it inside me, something deep and powerful wanting to come out. I just knew something was about to happen, so tuned I was to the feeling and texture of my consciousness, having been so focused on its upkeep and change for a whole season, meaning a period of three months. It was a temporary jet booster sadhana. I don’t know how sustainable it is to do continuously, but the world has things to offer our sadhana too, and so to turn your back to its many voices too long would work against it it appears to me.

I got some time off work, got my camping and hiking gear together, and I began the long drive to Enchanted Rock, a couple of hundred miles. I don’t know where I was in route, but the land had changed from forest to semi-desert and was a rather featureless expanse, something conducive to experiences of the nature of the one I’m about to describe. Probably on account of my impulsiveness, and my habit to smoke grass while driving, and the monotony of the roadway, but it may have been from intuition, I decided, “what the heck, I’ll smoke that joint now.” I’d taken one, figuring I’d smoke it on the Rock and do a meditation, and that probably the consciousness would do its thing. It might’ve happened that way too, and it might not have, and maybe I’d have been able to handle what happened better, but I’ll never know. Anyway, I lit the joint and began to take long, deep drags off it. I smoked it down the roach and put it out. The first thing I noticed was my experience of both myself and the world had undergone a one hundred and eighty degree change: my center of self was gone.

Admitted through a curtain of bright mind
That hangs between our thoughts and absolute sight,
He found the occult cave, the mystic door
Near to the well of vision in the soul,
And entered where the Wings of Glory brood
In the silent space where all is for ever known.
Indifferent to doubt and to belief,
Avid of the naked real’s single shock
He shore the cord of mind that ties the earth-heart
And cast away the yoke of Matter’s law.
The body’s rules bound not the spirit’s powers:
When life had stopped its beats, death broke not in;
He dared to live when breath and thought were still.
Thus could he step into that magic place
Which few can even glimpse with hurried glance
Lifted for a moment from mind’s laboured works
And the poverty of Nature’s earthly sight.

From Savitri by Sri Aurobindo
(Courtesy of The Sri Aurobindo Ashram Press)

Boundlessness, shorelessness, these are ways people have tried to picture the feeling of the consciousness when you’re center is gone. I’m talking about what we all take for granted, a center around which we revolve ourselves, that little knot of ego. The illimitable state had an edge to it that made me feel like I had to swim, had no land or even a buoy that I could grab ahold of to stop swimming awhile, whereas, captained by an ego, existence is just automatic, no swimming involved. The swimming, though, was in an ocean of peace, as contrary as that might sound to it having an edge.

I reached for thought, and the thought I was thinking branched in two, and I actually saw this in my mind, the train of thought branch in two, and as soon as I saw both thoughts at the same time, my thought process came to an abrupt halt, like an engine that had just had a wrench thrown into it, and Silence and entered the room, something that wasn’t just an absence of sound but had the stuff of substance, as contrary as that might also sound to the presence of emptiness that had just shattered my world. Believe me, I’ve tried many times to remember that train of thought. I’d imagine it might be a trigger, but maybe only under those unique circumstances.

Not knowing what on earth to do, I started pranayama, starting out by taking a deep breath, but when I exhaled, the breathing also abruptly stopped, and there was no need to inhale again. If that wasn’t weird enough, my heart took a couple of erratic beats and then it too stopped, yet I continued driving, a dead man at the stirring wheel. The Tibetan book does not mention this; nothing in my whole life experience had ever even hinted such was possible, and I just drove down the road the biggest exclamation point ever hovering over the roof of my truck as figures and such do in the characters and such of video games, figuratively speaking. This lasted for maybe a couple of minutes or more. I don’t rightly know how long.

I had a mantra, or rather, a snatch of a popular song I was using as a mantra, what I’d sung in my truck often while driving, and only there, what incidentally, I heard one night working the concierge’s desk at Four Leaf Towers when I picked up the phone, heard just that snatch of song and nothing else, an example of the mind games Interfin played with me, for whatever reason, but probably had something to do with that damn demon I’d conjured some two years before, or maybe they just did that with everybody, to show you they ‘knew’, but it wasn’t happening with other employees I’d asked. The mantra’s from a song by Noel Paul Stookey, “The Wedding Song (There is Love): the snatch of it I used was “the union of your spirits here has caused him to remain, for whenever two or more of you are gathered in his name, there is love.”

I have no idea how I could sing it, as I wasn’t breathing, but you must remember we are already walking on miracle here, holding hands with the impossible. There must have been enough air left in my lungs to sing it once, but I don’t rightly know how it came out of my mouth. On the word love my voice changed to some incredible metallic sound, but it had nothing to do with the sound of machines or insects. That’s just the closest word I can use to describe how it sounded. It was not of this world. It was also beautiful.

At that sound, or rather, on that note, I felt a burning sensation at the base of the spine, and then I felt a force ascending up it, and I say force, but it was like a rocket ship. It got about to the region of my solar plexus, and, for reasons I still can’t figure out but probably have to do with some automatic reflex when confronted with strange after strange overtopping one another, and this was the biggest stranger, this rapid, rocket, ascension, I literally shook the holy fire out of myself and stopped it in its tracks, and still to this day that charkra is blocked.

Everything turned back on, my heart, my breath, my mind, my ego, but it didn’t just suddenly end; I bounced back down there to that bear bones reality a few times, not getting even to the illimitable, but close enough to feel the reeling of the infinite bound down upon me once again. I just couldn’t take it and stopped at the next store, a lone one on the highway, bought a pack of smokes and smoked one after another until I could smoke no more. It helped to ease the emptiness.

Arriving at Enchanted Rock, I was visited by the most forlorn feelings I’ve ever faced, and I walked around the outdoor theater there, not even bothering to climb up the mountain. I just walked and talked to myself, trying to put reality back into its place, but it wouldn’t fit anymore because I’d seen there was no reality, or rather, reality had no substance to it, was not real. You read about some spiritual state and right away want it, but when you actually experience it, it turns out to be very different than you imagined. The Tibetan book had talked about the state of enlightenment as being characterized primarily by emptiness, although there are other aspects of it, and it was emptiness I’d been meditating on, but you really have no idea what books are talking about until you experience it yourself. And then you want to throw the book away.

I don’t remember the drive home or really very much of the couple of weeks immediately after, except that I no longer had any motivation to do anything, continue with school, meditate, seek anything at all either worldly or spiritual. I was stunned, in a state of shock basically. Why bother doing anything? It didn’t matter. The world had no meaning whatsoever. I’d seen it with my own eyes. What kept that new abysmal attitude from being despair was the peace I felt, which was even in my body. Everything was still, quiet, peaceful, and it didn’t feel bad. I could just ride to death that way.

I remember I was walking in a Houston park I frequented, and I’d just come out of the Rothko Chapel that sat in that park and was walking down the sidewalk beside the chapel, on a street lined with old oak trees, which formed a canopy over the street, giving such an environing beauty, and a man about my age came up to me and asked, “Are you Buddhist?” Now, this was Houston, Texas, and I was in a t-shirt and jeans, and working where I did, at Four Leaf Towers, I was clean cut in appearance. In other words, there was no reason for him to stop me and ask that question, and it was more than a little odd he did. It was actually a bit extraordinary, but to you who’ve just heard the story behind it, it might not seem so, but understand he hadn’t heard it. I stopped and came out of my slight walking reverie, looked at him and simply said, “No, I’m not Buddhist,” and I walked on so as not to engage in conversation. He said after me, “You look Buddhist,” obviously a little disappointed I didn’t want to speak. He’d asked me that because saw the peace. It was, like I said, even in my body and its movements, not only on my face.

I continued going to my Greek class, but I stopped meditation and spiritual practice, and and reading therein, although I remained a vegetarian, and I didn’t smoke any weed, didn’t dare, afraid I might bounce back into the state, as, since it’d happened, I’d done some bouncing back down there, and I say down there because it’s like at the bottom of your consciousness, or the basis really, and everything, all objects, have been removed, why it’s described as raw, empty awareness, when everything in your consciousness is gone, and you’re left with only awareness. I cannot answer why, if that’s the case, I shook myself out of it when the kundalini begin to rise (I mean, who did that if there was no I?), but there’s a mystery to the state no one can describe; you’re not there but some memory or habit of you is, or something like that.

And it’s necessary to mention that, like each person has a unique experience of ego consciousness, so too it seems we have of enlightenment, and there are aspects of the state other than emptiness and peace, ananda (utter joy) and a compassionate identity with everything for example, and there is more in that store. I guess I was orientated to emptiness because that’s what I focused on in my practice, as that’s what was in the book, but the next time I was to experience it, in a lucid dream, where it’s easier to get into, it was the ananda that took the helm, and I can only say that it was more present to my experience than the world to try to give some picture of its intensity, but the emptiness and peace was still present, in the background, and the state ended upon awakening.

Anyway, immediately after my first experience of it, I only knew it as emptiness that robbed the world completely of meaning. I believe I was about to quit school, quit everything, when I returned to my efficiency apartment in the Montrose area of Houston and flopped down on my bed. Those apartments bear some description, as they were not exactly the most conducive to spiritual practice, although the manager had promised me that it would be a nice, quiet place. It’d been closed down because of the selling of drugs and prostitution, but, now under new management, things would be much different he told me. They were not at all. In the year I lived there, the cops raided apartments a few times, and twice dead bodies were taken out of it—overdose. The outside of the apartments had a front that kind of reminded you of the Alamo, except it didn’t come up to a rounded point. Hype Park Apartments they were called, and the manager, an older gentlemen that’d taken a fancy to me as a manager in the apartments on Old Galveston Road, where I’d experienced Supermind, talked me into going with him, as he’d been offered there in Montrose a job as manager. I went because the apartments were across the street from Half Price Books, where I was going as often as I could, I explain in other writings. He didn’t offer me the moon, and what he did offer me, that quiet place, didn’t happen, but I’ll be damned if the full moon didn’t happen. That means, of course, that it did.

I didn’t put anything on it.
I didn’t priori.
I just experienced it.
You would not would give me credit for a brush with the Silence.

I was there.
It rolled me over.
I almost crashed on myself.
It was so far beyond us it’s not even funny.
I’m scared of it today.
It just swallows you whole.

It’s incredibly difficult to bear,
reality after the experience.
You don’t know what to make of reality.
You don’t even know it’s there.
What an illusion you see in front of you,
convicted by the Silence.

I don’t know how to handle it
explaining it to you.
My God this is deep.
You’ll just shrug your shoulders
and pass it off as experience
with a big question mark on it,
or you’ll nod your head:
I know what he’s talkin’ about;
wow it sure is heavy;
I’ve had it my mind too.
Okay ego I’m sorry,
This is beyond your experience.
No you have not.
Oh no you have not.

This is beyond your ken.
It’s bigger than yourself.
You wouldn’t understand it.
It goes past the boundaries of physical thought.
It doesn’t fit into reality that has principle players.
It’s got wheels on it
so far blow you away.
The world has become a foreign planet.
You’re not thinking in there.
You’re wide open silence.

I don’t know how you’re lookin’ because there’s no you lookin’.
The intensity will wash away time.
You’re like a blanket slate,
and you know you’re enlightened.
Those are the shoes you wear,
and they hold fast.

Tell me I’m wrong.
I just had some raw experience.
Computation some,
and we’ll find the trigger for it in the brain,
and we’ll find the chemical goes in the brain,
that make this feel like happenin’.
We’re all over the place,
and we’re bound to get there too,
just give us some time.
We’ll find it.

And that’s how we rule life,
convincing you
science is right there behind you
about to discover somethin’.
We don’t know about this.
We’re afraid to admit it.
It doesn’t come up in our vocabulary a lot.
We don’t know how to say it.
We just throw it away.

And we’ve spoken existence in a bottle.
The bottle experience enlightenment.
My God it’s big.
You’re suddenly floatin’ in infinite space.
There are no boundaries
in the silence in your mind.
You’re just there
bigger than thought.

Now what do we do with people who experience it?
Obviously some do.
I think the numbers are growing.
It’s on the globe.
It will get noticed one day.
It will become a thing.
That’s where we’re goin’.
We’re headed there.

I don’t know who turns it off,
but it won’t be welcome received.
I think there’s plans against it
I don’t know who oppose it
among our kind.
A cabal of snakes consider rule the world certainly do.
They’re on it,
makin’ everything so mundane,
our stories, our time.

No one every changes consciousness in the movies do they
to become an enlightened being?
Super strength,
mental power,
how come they don’t talk about enlightenment?
Why are the superheroes so human?
And you swallow it like a piece of cake.
Those kinds of ruptures in the field of consciousness,
Ben 10,
and you’d be a basket case.
Yah hear what I’m sayin’?

Those kinds of superpowers
are just for the movies.
They don’t show you real,
and yes we can walk on water,
above the enlightened mode,
and just be a walkin’ miracle.
I’m gettin’ ahead of myself.
You’re robbed of sleep.

Listen they won’t tell you enlightenment because it’s there,
and if they try to figure it,
it’s flat on the ground,
just another superhero with an attribute.
The others aren’t strivin’ for it.
Hey kids bring my chocolate.
Ain’t that special.

We’ve read enlightenment,
and you’ve just put it in your pocket.
I don’t know how to tell you it’s real,
the thing we strive for
in stages now.
How do you do this?

I’m workin’ on it today.
Can you clear your mind of everything
and walk around like that?
Focused and concentrated
on everything you do
so far so God.
That takes care of the representation,
and you’re not God.
You’re lookin’ at God,
so you stay out of head swells.
God’s everywhere you see.
Do you see ‘im?

Do you want to?
Okay just figure the Absolute,
bare, bottomless reality.
Just don’t sit there and think
with your hands on the world.
Try to get out of thought,
but don’t give up the ship.
Your tasks are important.
Make them the ultimate reality,
and the people in front of you,
and give that to your dog,
and don’t hold back.
They absolutely love it.
You’d have to list more than my words do.
It’s everything in the world you see,
focused and concentrated on it
as though it’s the world.

Are you understandin’ my science?
Put it there.
You’re bound to come around
to episodes of Silence eventually.
We want this permanently turned on.
How do we do that?
Can someone in the audience tell me?
I’m workin’ on that now.

I’m right here,
and I’m in a lot of places
in the rounds of my speak,
in the notions I present,
in the time I give you,
in the time I gave you.
This is my time on earth.
I’ve just mentioned enlightenment.

The presentation of a rocky road,
this is clearcut and easy,
and I’ll sell you some land in Iowa
on the beachfront.
Listen to me kids,
It’s your thesis for a doctorate in life.

I don’t know how it appears to you.
Wham! I’m enlightened with some people,
and I wasn’t even lookin’ for it.
Now that shows.
I think it’s the most published paper,
instant enlightenment.
If you’re studying for it it’s disappointing.
When’s it gonna come for you?
Just keep studying.
I think the problem’s the method and material.

I’ve solved some practical cuffs.
I hold it in front of my house.
I have to master the reality in front of my face
and quiet it down.
No monk is necessary.
I can be a businessman
or a factory worker
or a concierge
or a housewife,
a handyman.
I can be a soldier.
You study in your room
all day long,
all night long.

Your room is what holds you together.
It’s not necessarily a physical space.
It’s where you reside.
There’s the world out there.
I’m in my world in here.
You carry your room wherever you go,
even into our common room
I’ve been talking with you in.

Enlightenment closes doors.
You don’t always reach for somethin’ that makes you feel good.
You have to close some doors for good.
You learn silence in your mind
an unperturbed heart,
a colorful stomach
that won’t bother you,
and genitals that don’t cry.
Man, that’s hard.

You’re studyin’ enlightenment.
You just keep goin’ with it.
I’ve given you all these reflections.
I think the subject’s exhausting.
I don’t think we ever put it down.
Even drunk we study those effects
on your possibility to rise.
Gettin’ some,
the sexual delight of another person,
we put it there too.
Can I get out of this?
This must be union with God.
You do your treatment
no matter what vice has got you,
and you’ll learn to let it go.

Preferably you’re not caught by vice.
These are preliminaries.
I have to tell yah they’re not.
It takes so long to overcome the world,
more to overcome yourself,
and vice will just become your reaction table
to stimulus.
You get rid of it.
You really get picky fine tune.

Lost in it,
it’s not going to put it over there.
You’re on the outside.
You don’t get there easily from there.
Like you gave me a task,
the inner poise.
Can somebody just come up and kill it?
We’re a letter away,
and we get into that get rid of me field.
What ego,
what snakes have been put in it.
There’s somethin’ else.
I don’t count an accident.
I just keep going with enlightenment.

You see my ways and means?
They’re not usual.
You just keep goin’
until mastery finds you.
How can you be enlightened before enlightened?
I don’t get it.
Let’s not be too strict on ourselves.
The consciousness is the key.
Don’t be interrupted,
and don’t let interruptions stop you.

There are no moral tales here.
You wanna calm down,
make peace.
You’re listening to this in your mind
silence concentrated.
It goes to God,
the source behind silence,
intensity’s rainbow.

Dry your eyes.
You’ve found a friend.
Enlightenment can talk to you
from the minds of God,
talk to you every single day.
My muse is
almost constant.
Nice to meet you.
Learnin’ this has taken decades.
Wow, the fruit of the room.

Voices talkin’ to my head,
doin’ that for me:
writing the world down on paper.
It’s hallelujah glory,
and it’s strong.
You don’t know the availabilities of time.
They’re on the inside, you know?
We can find them.

We can find that cartoon,
The Eastern whatever it is
takes us on the road.
Beautiful, ain’t it?

I’m a thick soup.
I thought that was an accomplishment.
I have to ever let go I’m sorry.
I have to study reality.
It always throws a curve ball
that I have to negotiate,
I’m negotiating now.

First choice,
who do you have?
Some nice warm human being,
or a lop-eared dog.
Could be your television show.
Give it to me.
You can’t have it.
I hear a voice,
and it won’t leave me alone,
and it’s the proper entertainment.
They just tell me I’m sorry,
there’s so much to say.

I think we’re gonna go to a narrow canyon over there.
Challenge with love,
with this far,
and not
they’re not gonna make it.
It takes a let go.
I’m a friend
in the most unlikeliest places.
He never
this is just grab ahold.
Enlightenment has you for its supper.

don’t kick it over.
All the interrogators,
like counting the walls session.
It was really peaked Bruno,
the sequence of enlightenment.
I was there.
I experienced it.
It showed me the world
fine tuned.
It was the sequence of enlightenment.

I don’t know how to do it.
The Earth Mother’s in love you too.
This extra high in this game,
they don’t falter.
We’ve got your street books,
and no one knows what they’re talkin’ about,
sellin’ inevitable rise we find ourselves in.

A purpose behind human existence, no—
so science says.
It’s hidden.
It’s not around us.
You know where enlightenment is?
Where to find human existence?
There’s a purpose behind life.
It figures there,
and we’ve found human.
Come and see.

That’s the mirror,
one that takes us even higher.
that takes us to the end of the world,
and this is no cataclysm stop.
It’s an embodied being paradise
checking out of bodies
and where worlds stand,
and getting bigger than that.
What a lovely end
to terrestrial existence.
We will arrive there eventually
in huge distances of time.

We have enlightenment,
and we’ve evolved out of the animal.
There’s Supermind,
and we don’t stop there.
We get bigger all the time.
We really do.

As the first step out of the animal
see enlightenment.
See it plainly.
I’ve shown it to you.
A gathered garden in the fabric of reality,
went through a photograph.

Do you know what that means?
Cancel it
with your rough cherry picker.
Put spiderwebs all over the city,
and that draws the crowd,
some version of Spiderman.
Pani puri daddy,
bring us to the wall and let us adapt.
It’s not a big problem.
Throw off the yoke of science
and read your bored everyday
you’re looking for enlightenment.

Next post:

Chapter 11

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