|More about "The Truman Show"
My friend and I watched it again this weekend.
He wondered why the people watching cheered at the end. Interesting question. I said that
it intrigued me that they would cheer and then forget almost immediately, wondering what
else was on.
I see it as intriguing from the self-delusional aspect of
any impression we receive from real Work sources. What I mean is, everyone who sees this
show (the movie show) at some level identifies with Truman and wants him to succeed. The
movie audience also cheers Truman, just like the TV audience did. Evangelists cheer and
laud Jesus triumph over Satan. Zen aspirants just love the little stories of
enlightenment given by the teachers. In a sense, there is a voyeuristic aspect to it, like
when we see a good sports event and see the soccer star score a goal. There is also the
element of catharsis when we see the underdog conquer the bully, or the teenager
sees the movie of the nerd who got laid at the end.
But in this case, as in every bardo story with a happy
ending, we are affected by the double blinding effect of SEP ("Somebody Elses
Problem" see Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy, Douglas Adams). So, for
instance, we see the Truman Show, and the first wool that covers peoples vision is
the conviction that what they are seeing is fiction: they dont need to wake up. They
are o.k. and thank goodness their lives are not like Trumans.
The second blinder kicks in when the first one fails. This
one tells us that we are indeed like Truman insofar as we find ourselves in his shoes
(more or less). But then we also are made to believe that can share in his triumph. So
that when he breaks free, in a sense so have we. Some might come to believe that they have
already come to be free. "I know what they are trying to say and I already did that,
so I understand Truman and what he represents". This hubris might even lead some
people to believe that the story is somehow equivalent to getting out of a bad marriage,
surviving a semi-tough childhood, getting a college degree, etc.
The point is, that by the end, you feel a chill down your
spine, you feel that something extraordinary just happened, and you are given a dose of
"feel good" that makes you feel you had a spiritual experience. And this, of
course, becomes a substitute for the real work. In fact, we have received a dose of the
real thing, and the more real the dose, the more dangerous it is. These encounters become
like vaccines. We are briefly exposed to Work ideas, but only briefly and in controlled
environments. Moreover, these ideas have been inoculated and weakened by the appearance of
entertainment. Then, a front attack of work realities and possibilities would not affect
us, because we have been inoculated.
Just think of some of the people we have worked
with. The more they think they know, or the more they feel they have understood or seen,
the farther they get from doing work. So, for people like you and me, situations in which
Work has to take place are necessary. Situations in which we can see that wonderment and
theorizing would only entangle us more deeply into our miserly and chaotic drama.
Situations in which the only satisfaction is real Work.
1:30 a.m. You are at a fashionable
night-club full of people dressed for the occasion. Smoke, alcohol, laughter, words,
noise. In between the poor light and so many people in there you are not able to see more
than one meter in front of you. The dumb-box is blaring-out at a thousand watts. Its
a great whirlwind of voices, looks, laughter, expressions, spasms, nobody can really hear
anyone else or even hear themselves. But everything seems to be normal, its even
Somebody comes up to me. The
sounds and the images around me disappear. These words are whispered in my ear:
"Whatever it is thats on
the other side of the window, a window is always a window... except in one space".
Then they leave, disappearing in
between the people, leaving me speechless.
|Multiple Mood Magnet
Im not thinking of those creations of the
70s, those ultimate revealers of your innermost states, the ones you wore on your
fingers. Its not a mood ring kinda thing, dig? Its more like an invisible
magnet that I wear around my neck. It goes with whatever clothes I happen to be wearing
and color coordinates effortlessly. Most of the time I am unaware of its presence and see
no need to ever take it off.
Then unexpectedly I begin to notice out of the corner of my
attention how the magnet is directing my moods. These moods are like little bits of metal,
shavings from a much larger machine, and they stick to everything I see. The magnet
inhales the dust like a neurotic vacuum cleaner hungry for its next meal. The dust bag is
overflowing and yet it fills and fills, there seems to be no end to this. I watch this
greedy consumption without distaste, trying to remember what I am seeing.
From moment to moment, from magnetic meal to magnetic meal the electric flow moves on and on.
Simulating forward movement but really circling back on itself again and again. The snake
eating its own tail, the eternal cycle of death and rebirth, the setting and rising of the
sun. And this current comes in a very limited number of flavors, each one tasting a bit
like the last. Yet there is never satisfaction, never an end to this hunger.
The moods dissolve into nothingness and are reborn into
nothingness. There is attraction and repulsion, action and reaction, and its all
being moved by this invisible magnet that hangs around my neck. Occasionally the magnet is
redirected. The electricity used in a meaningful way. A situation, an event, no sleep,
lots of stress, its very unpredictable what will vaporize the magnetic mood magnet.
All I can say now is that its power of invisibility is wearing a bit thin.
A young boy was training at a Zen monastery in Japan. Every day, the
students had to come out to the archery range, paint targets all over the place, and then
shoot. The teachers would observe this practice day after day.
This young boy, being a smart rascal, devised a method for fooling the
teachers. He would wake up half an hour earlier. He would go out into the range, and he
would shoot his arrows before anyone else arrived. He would let the arrows fall where they
might, without directing them or aiming. After shooting, he would go around and paint
targets around the arrows. This way, this little cheater would always get the commendation
of his teachers and the envy and admiration of his fellow students when theyd come
out and see his perfect aiming.
One day, the head archery master came out and saw the other teachers commending
the little boy. He said to the boy: "Let me see you do this again." Without
hesitation, the liar took the arrows from the targets. He went back to his initial
position, and fired. Each arrow struck the target perfectly in their center.
"Youll join me in my advanced class," said the master.
When his best friend, who knew of the boy shenanigans, asked him how he had
pulled it off, the boy answered: "Once on the spot, I realized that the arrows
already knew the way."
Away from me, dark and inert shadows! Your objective is to
drown me and to make me believe in whatever interests you. You want me to not get out of
here, you want to dominate me, you want to have the security that I wont be able to
Away from me, dark, inert shadows! You dont let me see
the void nor listen to the silence. You play the same movies before me time and time again
and you like to listen to my cries of pain! Yes, you feed on that. If I dont stop
this, I participate in feeding you, and this will not change until I am conscious that
with this attitude, I am a puppet, a slave to my own death in life.
Away from me, dark, inert shadows!
While walking through the local shopping mall, it
occurred to me that sometimes people walk through these palaces of consumption with the
same attitude of reverence with which people once looked upon medieval cathedrals, as
though shopping was a central aim in life. Surely, there must be more. But I remember how
often Ive been here, completely involved in the act of shopping and totally unaware
of what I was doing, in waking sleep, with no thought of any higher aim or purpose.
After purchasing the item I came here for, I decide to crawl around the mall,
observing the movements of my machine and of others. The mall, its shops, and the people
in them assume a surreal quality after only a few minutes of deliberate attention. I begin
to wonder if Im having a dream of being in a suburban shopping mall and watching
these strange manifestations of human primate behavior. (Imagine what it would be like as
an alien anthropologist in an earthsuit, observing the importance of shopping rituals to
human primates). The people here certainly look like theyre walking around sleeping
with their eyes open. I get the feeling that by looking a bit more closely, perhaps I
could perceive some of their dreams.
Or, what if the people shopping here are already dead? (Theres a good
horror movie, "Dawn of the Dead," about a few live humans fighting voracious
cannibalistic dead zombies in a shopping mall). Perhaps they are dead and dont know
it yet. And what if Im dead too, this is the Bardo, and Im only beginning to
wake up to that fact? Could one of the stores in the mall lead to a rebirthing station? I
wonder if I have to, or want to, take on another human biological machine.
Maybe it doesnt matter whether Im in a shopping mall observing my
and others waking sleep, or in horizontal sleep dreaming of being in a mall, or
already dead. Perhaps all of these are true on some level, and there are multiple
realities of which I am only vaguely aware. Leaving the cave of the mall and entering the
not so clear light of day, I remember the most important of these realities:
We are always already in the Bardo.
"Hey lady are you okay?"
I could hear someone asking as if from afar.
Where am I?
"Lady, you will have to leave your coat at the check stand."
The young man at the door with the supermarket apron begins to walk towards me. The man
with one sleepy eye at the check stand looks at me with concern and then looks back at the
man walking towards me. The companion Im sure I walked in with is lost into the maze
of gray isles in the store.
"Sorry lady but you will have to empty everything out of your pockets."
I look at him confused by his request, but not being able to respond through the fog that
clouds my thoughts, I begin to do as he requests.
How did I get in this store? Where was I before I got here? What am I doing here?
"I will have to confiscate all these items, Miss."
I am finally able to spit out a response.
"You will have to leave these items here miss."
"These are my things I brought them with me Ive just walked in I havent
taken anything from this store."
The young man signals to two guards dragged by two vicious looking dogs on leashes. I look
around helplessly for my companion. When the guards reach me they grab me by the arms with
a grip that threatens to break my bones. The dogs bark viciously showing their sharp
fangs. At the first sign of struggle the dogs launch at me fangs sinking into my flesh
they begin to rip me apart. The pain is blinding I yell helplessly for my companion but he
is to far away. The dogs are ripping my stomach open.
Blinding flashes of red and black splash into my eyes. I scream.
The world goes black.
"Lady are you okay?"
"Hey lady are you okay?"
I open my eyes.
A man is looking at me through the car window. I am sitting in a parked car waiting for my
companion who has gone into a store. I can feel the sharp pain still in my stomach. The
man still looking at me through the window with concern looks familiar.
Is this another dream?
How did I get here?
What am I doing here?
Day in the Life
I remember something. Well, no, actually, no I dont. I
kind of remember something. That is, something is happening, I think. This is weird. I
must look at this carefully
must not let this go by so easy. Lets see
where am I?
Im in a small, square room, in the right-hand side
corner opposite the only wall with a door and a window. The walls are painted with some
sort of creamy, yellowish, mustard-y paint (actually, the whole atmosphere/mood in the
room/chamber seems/feels yellowish/mustard-y). On the ceiling, an old
police-questioning-room-type of lamp hangs, and it holds a semi-dim yellow lighted light
bulb. It hangs right above a small table that holds bread, rice, fish and other food, four
dinner plates and four glasses with water, some napkins and utensils. Four big, sweaty,
hairy men one of them my father seat at the small table on wooden stools,
and the table looks ridiculously small for them with their knees rising over the
table top and their backs hunched-over their plates and food as they patiently eat their
meal. Theres also a woman dressed in a white gown thats mom! She stands
on the opposite side of the table from me, in front of the window, looking over the men
The only other piece of furniture in that room is a big,
heavy, two-door, brown cabinet that stands right in front of me, next to the door, against
the wall opposite mine. And in the corner closest to mom, the most curious thing in the
room: a black sheet of some sort covering a bunch of weird and curious metal sticks
and I have a feeling Ive seen those things before, although I dont know where
The room is warm and stuffy my five-year old body
perspires. The door and window closed. I stand butt-naked, sucking on my thumb. The men
eat strangely and slowly, as if they were paying special attention to the act of bringing
the food up to their mouths and then ever more intense attention to how they chew and
swallow. They never eat like this they just bite and swallow. And theyre
never so quiet always laughing and screaming.
But their minds are not in their meal at all I can
tell. Their eyes tell me that theyre in another world, dreaming. Their minds
traveling into unknown lands way before their time, trying desperately to look for a clue,
for a way out of whatever it is that theyre about to face. The men are scared but
theyre no cowards theyre committed to holding and defending their
And mom, shes scared too. She looks at me as if too
say: "You poor thing. Im so sorry you have to go through this
youll make it, baby. I know it, you will." She looks at me and she holds me in
her loving embrace as she does. As the tears run down her cheeks she says: "After the
terror, youll remember that it is all a dream, my baby."
Then, just as she says that, the ground shakes; no, the
whole room shakes. Table dancing and bouncing on the wooden floor; food, plates and
glasses diving straight for the floor; and wooden stools flying across the room in all
directions (one missing me by an inch!) as the four men jump up onto their feet.
Two of em pick the cabinet up and drop it in front of
the door in a flash. The other two turn the table over on its side and place it against
the window which is so close to the ground that even I could climb over it with out
a problem as the glass shatters all over their faces again, in a flash and
all at once.
so I scream. One of the men dashes to
the corner behind mom, uncovers the metal sticks, and begins tossing them to the other
three. As he reaches down to grab a metal stick of his own, and as mom turns to run
towards me, the table explodes and bursts into flames. Mom is violently thrown against the
wall, as if she were a rag doll. The roar of the explosion leaves me deaf and the smoke
leaves me blind.
From within the midst of the black smoke I can see the
flashes of light and hear the blasts of the metal sticks that the three other men have.
They curse and scream. More explosions, so loud I cannot hear my self. The heat
intensifies. Thousands of miniature meteorites come flying my way, and as I duck, I feel
them passing right through the walls behind me. Then, a body slams itself against mine,
and I fall to the ground, with half of my dads body (top half) on top of me.
The blinding, choking smoke now clearing, Ive managed
to push dads top-half off of me. The heat is intense, the smell strong and
unpleasant. Everything seems red now the blood drenched bodies, the clearing smoke,
the walls, and my hands.
Everyones dead. Pieces of bodies laying all over. I
see hands, arms, legs, guts, heads, and pieces of gooey brains covering the floor. My own
body covered in blood like the floors and the walls. I lift my self up, unto my feet,
looking at my bloody palms, butt-naked like always.
The noise is gone but not the buzzing in my ears. The smoke
has cleared but not my teary eyes. There is no fear but there is a knot in my throat and I
seem to be paralyzed I will not move.
I look at the blood on my palms (something is happening).
The watery substance is trying to tell me something (theres something to remember,
try!). Light reflecting off of it tries to remind me of something (but what? What is it?).
I look intensely at it; the redness takes me deeper into the essence of my situation, and
then I remember!
I look up, and there, with one foot in the room and the
other on the other side of the now broken window, holding a huge metal stick, a burlesque
smirk and a mischievously evil look, is Bruto, looking straight at me!
You! It is you! It is you who Ive been talking to all
this time, you whom Ive been trying to remember isnt it? Yet you never
talk to me. You always come for me, always when Im so young, always just smiling,
with your gun. Why are you always here, at this point in my life? Why do you always come
You look into my eyes, straight into my very soul (I look
back at you). You smile (I just look). You approach (I step back). You lift you gun and
aim at me (I lift my arms and cover my head). Your finger moves; the trigger
and I see the light...
Something is happening today, I dont know what
just like a funny feeling in my gut, a once forgotten memory trying to come back. What is
Dead King with the Crown on his Chest, next to his crying son
Watching a child cry at dusk.
Through the passionate cry.
A hearing that can listen
The Song of the Stones
What more do you want, Woman?
That my hands are willing
To sweat and to lock your heart in a case
Carved in silver and olive stones
Sing your Wanting?
I hammer in a thousand nails
In my body and some with thorns
To not forget it,
What more do you want, Woman?
Ill now be a bird singing on a tree for you,
Or if you like, only water in between
Reflecting for an instance
The last sun rays coming together
With the first star of the night
What more do you want, Woman?
Of the warrior
Because already everything is mine,
My Beloved Father already gave it to me.
The first bewitched verse,
Of the last manuscript
Rescued from the old papers
Of a Strange Object Importer
|Dow Jones Got Some Pillow Tonite
The messages are everywhere. The one in the title was
seen on a pillar at the Bus Station. Your guess is as good as mine as to what it might
mean. When we start looking out of our tiny tunnel of reality we begin to see these
messages everywhere. Messages that point backwards and forwards in time and yet reference
the same place over and over.
In a movie you could take it as "planned" when the hero sees a
billboard and realizes the 20 foot high message is for him. Its in the
"script". If we were to take the same perspective on our lives, as actors on a
three-dimensional, tactile, sensory stimulated stage, then maybe the "script"
would begin to reveal itself to us. Maybe the messages that sit right in front of us would
slowly become visible. The words taking shape and vibrating with the life of our newly
discovered attention and perspective.
As inhabitants and ultimate creators of the dream we find ourselves in, we are
bound to leave a few million messages and not so subtle hints to remind us of our present
situation. Before fully entering this dream of life there may have been moments when we
scattered messages like stardust throughout the time track of our lives. The only
requirement for noticing these messages is attention and a desire to look beyond the
Look ahead in your own "script", go ahead, take a peek, youll
see theres a message waiting for you out there today. Its up to you whether or
not youll see it. Nobody else can see it for you. Nobody but you.
|THE ARRIVAL AT THE HOLY PLANET PURGATORY
When I first arrived at the holy planet purgatory ,
my automatic system of mechanic defense reactions was on alert, it felt threatened.
Because in this place there was no space for negative manifestation, or at least everybody
who lived there worked on this constantly. I understand that this was necessary to
create a strong and sincere work mood.
The disposition towards work is very strong in this planet,
towards daily chores as much as to the people that, because of a lack of a strong
development, are roaming lost around the planet Earth. Here people dont sleep, they
are available most of their time. This attention they have developed through voluntary
efforts allows them in some way or another to have a wider outlook on ordinary people.
They produce a large amount of a certain substance: a necessary aliveness for maintaining
the universe harmonious with the laws imposed by our COMMON FATHER OF OURS, THE CREATOR OF
ALL AND EVERYTHING. They consequently develop their own potential and thus become useful.
Because, being useful, sincere commitment of ones self
to "something", opens doors, its necessary that we carry out our
mission according to the plans of our COMMON FATHER THE CREATOR.
In the end I understand that this HOLY PLANET PURGATORY
is only for those who want to be what they are. And even if in some way or another
this is natural, it costs great effort, too much. Most dont want it and cant
Ask yourself: WHAT DO YOU WANT TO BE WHEN YOU GROW UP?
|The End of Independence
There are mice in the dim lit kitchen,
Mice in the kitchen!!
They want the cheese
Theyre cool, theyre small and furry
With small and sharp white teeth
Running quickly around and then hiding
But there is no choice
I have a cat
Theyre mice in the kitchen
And they want the cheese.
I have a four legged cat,
With sharpened claws and long whiskers
He guards the cheese in the kitchen
I found him next to a river
We are friends
Now he lives in my house.
There are mice in the dim lit kitchen
They want the cheese.
A cats eye looking a mouses eye
Now he lives in my house.
I have waited until the sun sets to call you. I
will be here until morning. Ready for the encounter. I have seen the winter shadows,
theyre already there. We have little time left, but I will wait until the morning.
Afterwards everything will have ended. Nobody will know about our encounter, for in that
hour everyone sleeps. Everyone except you, who are always there. Everyone except you who
Up until now I always found the crossroads closed
Two words haunt my head at this moment: ANNIHILATION and
BEING. How strange, where do those voices come from? Of course, now I understand,
annihilation in the being! Thats it! Annihilation in the being, by the being and for
The door opens. A guy a bit strange but familiar at the same
time welcomes me. Something is happening, but I cant describe nor define what. When
I looked into his eyes I felt a sudden cold shiver in all of my body. He was in front of
me, and apparently he was coming towards me. But there was something disturbing about his
stare. It was cold and distant. Simply, he would not focus his eyes on me nor in anything
around him. It was as if his stare was directed towards the void or as if it was lost in
As if he had been reading my thoughts, he answered me and
said to me that actually, it was there were we were going, to the void. But he told me
also that before passing and continuing, I should pick three characters which later on
would serve to represent something that I yet do not understand. It did not matter what
sort of character I chose. These characters would be useful whenever I was back in the
world of the phenomenal. He also told me that one of the functions of these characters was
to serve me as a suit or dress, because if I didnt do so, when back in this world, I
would feel completely naked, cold and helpless destined to wonder without direction
in nobodys earth.
"And even though, essentially, once you are there,
youll see that there isnt, and that there never was, anywhere to go, and that
nothing is there to do."
You will use these characters to represent the Experience of
Transition which will, ideally, be renovated, with the help of their actions. These
characters are not real (in the sense that they come from the nothing and that they try to
represent the nothing). In and of themselves they are nothing; they are only tools such as
actors or characters that youll use to represent the annihilation of the Being, and
at the same time it is they who will somehow use you to represent said drama. Never will
you fixate your sight nor you attention in the results, for youll be lost if you do
so. Let them take care of the work. Let it be so. All that is asked of you is to be
conscious of each part of said process. Specially in the moments of attraction and
repulsion, which is definitely where you will encounter the most difficulty in remembering
that your function is to be an spectator of a game of phenomena and illusions created by
your own mind. Within these three characters, you should be able to anchor and fixate the
habits that should take you to the ONE far beyond any desire, any attraction or
|THE GREAT COUNCIL
The great council of chatterbox is gathering. One
of them gets up and, taking out of his left sleeve a papyrus, starts to say something that
goes like this:
Welcome foreigners. We know you have had a long trip, we
also know why you have come here. We knew all this before you were born. So, my children,
listen carefully to these words we're going to give you, so that you can take a
non-conditioned decision on what is your role here.
You arrived from the southwest and landed in a small town,
"HUMAN STUPIDITY PREVAILS EVERYWHERE", and there you were in contact with our
representatives, beloved children of ours! After a brief investigation, we were informed
about you: Worthy gentlemen able to take our standard. So then we wanted to know you
personally. After a few hours in contact, our witch and priestess, PATH, came up to you
and said: "You have to go back to this place to help our representatives in the
H.S.E., and I think it's your duty to bring all your strength together and form a greater
group, stronger, ever stronger, and with a capacity to bring to life necessary elements
for human development.
But careful, it's not all about just getting together and
doing this or the other job. There is a specific work to be done, we'll send this
depending on your efforts: the necessary work, as your real impulse to development
integrates in yourself. It's necessary now to unify, each and everyone has find their
role. Not only the ones who have just arrived, I mean everyone. May be there is a need to
re-structure some things. Each one should ask themselves "WHAT DO I WANT TO DO
HERE?";answering this question don't be scared to touch your most painful spot, don't
ONCE EVERYBODY HAS ANSWERED THIS, THEN THE GROUP CAN
COME TOGETHER WITH MORE UNIFICATION.
Possibly not everybody will form this new group. Some let
this opportunity pass and will want to return to the temporary lethargy state, or others
will take part, and others that, even when their efforts are sincere, still some
incompatibility will make them continue searching for their position in our triangle (our
teaching), or it's possible that you will make another group in the same place, and all of
them must work together, but every group will have their specific work. They will be able
to work wherever they are.....
So, my children, once I have said this, surrender with all
your being, go deeper in all this. But, don't forget that it's all written down. We
already know what is going to happen. For the time being, in our state-all of you- that'll
never change. But for some, it's still not all lost.
He takes a seat and all the chatterbox heads disappear. All
that is left is the group, all of a sudden a cloud of thick mist invades the space, nobody
can see anything.
A voice says: this is a bardo. All of you are in this
situation, in the lowest levels. Come on ladies and gentlemen, there is no time to loose.
|That my words never stop
That my words never stop
That they flow with the wind,
Always in the distance, to the far side,
That they never cease,
That my word echoes in the outer limits of this world
Of all the worlds, in the most inaccessible places,
That my words reach there and beyond
Go, fly with the wind,
Always in the distance,
Go and name what you see
Go, go always farther
Always looking for the horizon,
Watching, looking forever
You, my words, this world
That they never deplete
All is eternal, in the wind always flowing
The words today departed someday shall be back,
And with their timeless voices in my ears
The marvels of creation they shall sing
The creation are Your words
Your voices at play turning infinite into matter
Songs of life, whispers in the wind
Your words are life
That they spring endlessly from my mouth
That through it be Your life flowing
Rivers and rivers, from my mouth,
Your life, Your words
BARDO NEWS EXCLUSIVE
JUST IN FROM THE BARDO TRAINING
CENTER OF THE BAY AREA: AN EXCLUSIVE REPORT FROM THE VERY DEPTHS AND BOWELS OF AN
ESCAPED SLEEPING MACHINE
A "repeat-offence" prisoner of the organic
world and of the human dimension has secretly and unexpectedly leaked some very hard to
find top secret information out in cyberspace. Indeed and without any doubts, the
information you are about to receive is part of a fiercely guarded treasure amongst some
cunningly disguised and hidden extra-terrestrials, whose very life could be put in serious
danger if the wrong move is made
"Everybody sleeps once in a while, but it doesnt matter.
Dont worry about how often you fall asleep or for how long. Count only the times
when you are awake
Work where you are, because "where you
are is who you are". Work on self is the beginning work. Start where you are.
The "Goals and Aims" workshop is a good starting point. If youve never
done it before or if youve done it many times before, pretend that you never have
(cause you havent) and do the workshop. It will serve as a "map and
traffic-check", a "destination-reminder" and a "mind-clearing"
all at once.
Do the popcorn exercise (place you attention on your
moving center for as long as you are able and as many times as you can during the rest of
your life) and a little "Zen Basics" ("touch a rock") to strengthen
your will of attention.
How about your diet? Begin there and work with that
too, if you want. Work on how to replenish your body, your mind, and your spirit with
precious life-energy by learning how to be present and attentive during the cultivation,
picking, preparation, and consumption of food and during the after-eating clean-up process
What else do you think I should work on?
Work on turning some hobby or skill of yours,
something you like and enjoy, in to a Work-aim. What I mean is that you should pick
something you like to do and turn it into a sacred space, into an activity that benefits
another. Any activity that you enjoy will do like acting, dancing, singing,
painting, designing Web sites, building miniature train models, playing the maracas,
playing baseball or, even better, playing Dungeons & Dragons.
How you do that?
Well, thats a good question. Unfortunately, all
I can say is that (1) you must be willing to go farther than you ordinarily would
for which you will have to somehow attain, perhaps through extraordinary and esoteric
methods and with the help of a school (as in "school of fish") of Workers, the
necessary discipline. And (2) you must be willing to sacrifice it (because youll
have to) for the sake of the Work (which can only happen if you are really willing and
ready to give your very life to and work for the benefit of another).
Now remember: this top secret and fiercely guarded
knowledge leaked by the "escaped sleeping machine" is available here, in the San
Francisco Bardo Training Center News And Views. If you have any questions or comments
regarding this "escaped sleeping-machine" (who cares?) or that "Starting
Over" business (often needed and always useful), contact the Bardo Training Center of
the Bay Area and see what happens (they wont bite
The train is coming. A thousand pounds of black steel coming down the
tracks. Unstoppable. You hear the whistle screaming in the distance. You figure it's
around the next bend in the hills, but who can be sure. The space is all bent here, metal
sculptures twisted into the faces of people you once knew.
You stand between the twin parallel tracks. You believe you
can step off the tracks if you want too. You don't. The waiting is what kills you. Every
once in a while you drift into the warm past and fade away, but you return again with your
feet on the tracks. The rumbling is coming closer.
Years pass by silently and still it has not arrived.
"Maybe it came when I wasn't here and it missed me", but you know that isn't
true. Others have joined you now and they want to help. Let's take the first step. You
have to learn how to move again. So much weight on your shoulders, time to dance again,
leave the memories in your photo album.
You try but you cannot even focus your
attention long enough to lift a foot. A moment into the movement the magnetic pull of the
locomotive draws you toward it. The ground is shifting and you know there is no time to
waste. Your companions are speaking in riddles now, "Step lightly", "Follow
your nose", "Reach out and ... "
Today, as you walk from one place to the next
notice how you negotiate turns, navigate passage ways, cross streets, enter doors, obey
signs, avoid obstacles, rest, pause and consider, retrace your steps to then follow a new
path. Now, consider the usual way in which you do those things. Consider how you
automatically make the assumption that what you are doing is moving your body along a
space which is external to you, and that such space is the same you traversed yesterday,
and the week before. Think also about the convenient way in which you take every face you
see to be human, every animal to be irrational, and every street sign to be only ordinary
indications around an ordinary landscape. Finally, consider how you unthinkingly assume
that you are moving along a more or less fixed space. You walk down the street (which is
the same, etc.). You enter a building (which has been there for a while, but not
eternally). You approach a corner, say hello to a child that always plays there with a
dog, and then turn around the corner.
Make a subtle shift in your attention. Try it today. Do the
same thing. But, instead of you walking down the street, see that it is you making a
sacred dance. You know how to move your body in such a way that a door appears in front of
you. With the direction of your will, you cross the gate. You are confronted, in the midst
of your sacred dance, with signs, guides, and passages in the bardo. With the power of
your shamanic dance you mold and shape the space surrounding you, and doing that you evoke
sacred beings. Some appear as children, others as sacred birds, elementals, spirit guides,
etc. Sometimes the guides let you know that now is the time to face north, then it will be
time to go up (but only if you want to manifest the familiar space you manifested
yesterday, maybe now you decide to explore a new sacred landscape). Suddenly, you find
yourself face to face with an angelic being, which your consciousness presents to you as
an old friend but you know she is an evolved being who has come to your circle to offer a
gift of mystery. See if you can discover it.
And so you go. Dancing in the middle of your circle. Turning
your face, moving your feet, waving your hands, repeating ancient mantras. You go on with
what appeared before as the known, but which is now presenting itself as you moving and
shaping the universe, shifting and honing your attention, flexing your vision. Try it for
a while. Then one day you'll see that you don't really move or shape anything at all.
You'll see that nothing changes, that you don't even dance nor move nor speak. You'll see
that the only thing you do is play with your attention, because it is the only thing you
have, and the only thing there is.
Subtle influences are stronger than they appear.
This is something I had never noticed so strongly.
Back to the need for attention. Youll always be under
influences just everywhere, amongst everything. One tries to choose ones
surroundings as adequately as possible corresponding to ones likes or dislikes.
But ultimately we cant control this. Circumstances
bring you to places where influences absorb ones energy, where your full attention is
required, only for your own sake, or the influence gobbles you up and you dont even
know whats going on.
You just happened to hear this or the other, with no
intention. Even the unmentioned or unnoticed is picked up by some sensor far deep inside
oneself. And if one isnt in a good spot or aware of what is going on then
thats it. Its there and it has taken up some of that small precious space
which you have just wasted.
|SO THAT YOU SUFFER IT
It tears in two
This womb of mine
To give life to you,
You are the red of the blood,
In my wound,
And the blue of my veins,
And you are there
Still and timid
In the middle of a paper
Empty and cold.
I give you:
A drop of water,
And a fine stroke
So that you cry,
So that you suffer.
I give you:
So that you twitch
So that you suffer it.
Click here for the
articles ending on June 25, 1998
Click here for the
articles ending on May 23, 1998
Click here for the
articles ending on April 25, 1998
Click here for the
articles ending on April 10, 1998
Click here for the
articles ending on March 29, 1998
Click here for the
articles ending on March 22, 1998
Get in contact with us
by clicking on the link to your right: