Dog Poet Transmitting.......
“Ain't that America for you and me. Ain’t that America, home of the free... little pink house for you and me.”
Yeah... The American Dream. Like George Carlin said, “they call it that because you have to be asleep to believe it.” I got an email from a friend yesterday... or whenever it was and she mentioned how she had been speaking to relatives and others and one of them was sitting in her house the other day and reading my book, “Spiritual Survival in a Temporal World.” He had picked it up on his own from a table or something and then he got all smirky about the contents and meditation and such and she didn't get how people can be so closed off, regardless of how clearly you might present your ideas (not talking about my book now) and no matter how cogent your arguments or how concrete and provable your facts may be... they just don't get it. Well... they are asleep and anything that runs counter to the objective of the dream they are having is ignored, if it should run counter to the priorities of their dream. Dreams may not be real and in any conversation between people, even those dreaming or asleep, it is usually commonly agreed that a dream is not real. Of course there are exceptions to that and the main exception is the dream that anyone may be having. That is an exception. It's not a dream. It's real... even if it isn't..
Here's one of those interesting dreams that goes on behind the velvet ropes, where people are also dreaming, only their dream comes with certain powerful intoxicants that are pumped into the room that they all occupy. Talk about weird useless shit! Check out the Vampire Breast Treatment but especially check out the last item. Booyah!!! Never mind (grin) “You can't handle the truth!” and given that... why don't you handle this? “Come into my parlor said the spider to the fly.”
Yeah... this is one of those countries where Justice is not only blind, she's hooking in the Judge's Chambers. She's on her knees, probably looking for those missing contact lenses, cause she forgot that she was blind. Here is a classic example of what goes on in the country these days. Check out the details! Check out what happened to the mastermind and main player, without whose orchestrations it never would have happened. This is the kind of thing that happens below the Bible belt, only most likely in the rear end. Still... a belt does circle the whole body or it's not terribly efficient. One of the most amazing ironies in life is the reality of the teachings of Jesus Christ and the way that that enormous contingent of his followers express their idea of “What would Jesus want?”
Around the world and most especially in Banker Central locations, Wack City is going up like Brasilia appearing in the jungle. Scroll down to the video. This guy understands it pretty well. It is amazing what is taking place and look what is happening to Twit-er and others in the process. Like we been saying, no matter how threatening so much has appeared to be, there are other forces at work and a revolution is brewing and we maintain that the entire world is a projection of human consciousness and when enough people have had enough, the world changes and it will. Smoke break! Okay... that's sorted... or is it sordid? Well, I suppose each person has to be the judge of that. Personally... I couldn't be more weary of all the shit people put each other and themselves through. Those poorly demonstrated and clumsy acrobatics of their channeled passions, in search of something that can't be found there or anywhere, in any of the mediums they chase it through. Later they can look into their own swag bag and see what they got... hmmmm... there's a can of personal rage and another of frustration. Look! Here's a six pack of disappointment. What were you expecting? A six pack of high school girls... or boys?
Everywhere you go, the choreographing of vested interest is going on. You will note the language being employed by the writer and the examples of the players and it's like two for one night at Little Caesars. The pacification of collective, objective awareness is in full thrust; undulating under invisible demons writhing in the air above their tormented forms. They are in pain. The pain is in search of pleasure. The pleasure is the pain in search of peace but you can't get from point a to point c in this demon-graphic. Checker's is howling at the moon, while the ghost of Richard Nixon walks toward the viewing of Justice Scalia.
The corpse of the Justice lies in state. The gravitas drips from a face that makes Tiberius look avuncular. Everywhere you go there is talk about all the great things he brought to his tenure on the high bench. Well, he died the way he lived, in some location where they shoot birds all day. There is no mention of his impact on the 2000 election; not that it would not have made a whole lot of difference, given what we have since learned (courtesy of Mr. Apocalypse) about Mr. Big Footprint, Al Gore.
Judge Scalia has gone to his reward. The fruits of his passage are now in bloom. I can hear the boatman on the River Styx, cackling as he poles toward the nether shore. No mention at all about Justice Scalia and all his close friends and confidants who, like himself, gave such attentive concern to the needs of lesser mortals. We hear the trumpets about his defense of The Constitution and those of us who were paying any fucking attention know what happened to The Constitution during his reign. We know what Bush the Stupid had to say about The Constitution.
Now we are hearing all sorts of things about the death of this august dignitary... very curious stuff... but I don't pay all that much mind; first I don't know and second, I don't care. It is what it is because of what it was. Given however many die at the hands of the policies effected by these personages, the death of the author is not a cause for concern. It is the least the angel of death could do. It surely would be wonderful if I knew what I was talking about. I know I should be forgiving and compassionate and remember what John Donne said; “Every man's death diminishes me.” However... the truth is that it is not in my hands. I am not the judge (Heah come de judge! Heah come de judge! And... what do you know? “Dere go de judge!”) and I am not on the jury. I'm just some guy moving across the landscape, for whatever the reason that is and I do feel sorry for him and I am grateful he took that task and spared me and left me the lasting lesson of his enterprise. I suppose I feel especially sorry for him that he was a judge; now going before THE JUDGE and having to hear the record of his deeds being scrolled down across the ethers by the one he served while he was present here.
I would change so many things were it in my hands to do so but it is a certainty that I would only make it worse because... in my desire to make the world a better place, I would err before the force of my imperfect knowledge. There is many a tale in the Sufi Teachings and in other teachings that talk about what results from the efforts of the well meaning, who seek to correct the injustices of this world. That is not to say that we do not sometimes actually achieve that outcome, should we happen to be operating as the manifest hands of the one who understands it all. This does occur. It occurs consciously sometimes and it often occurs unconsciously as well, when we accomplish good without realizing or intending to ...and it is always better, at least, to want to effect positive change, even if we often have no idea of how to go about it. So I am not saying, “hands off and move along, it will take care of itself”, even if that might well be true. I am saying, “be watchful and pay attention.”
Everything that comes before us, happens for a reason. Only today, I found myself wrong about something... or let me say that I might have been wrong about something but I don't know and the truth is that I might never know. It was nothing of any great importance. Everyone we meet and see, every encounter we experience is a musical passage in the constructed symphony of our lives and one movement passes into the next. One measure follows another. We are in search of The Libretto. We have all latched on to something that gives text to the music. Whether it is the true libretto is hard to say ...because even false librettos function just like the real thing in that they grant some kind of text. In a world gone mad it is hard to define dysfunction; compared to what?
I feel an immense confidence in the scheme of things. Quite certainly I do not understand all the ins and outs. I don't know where it came from or where it is headed. I don't know where I came from or where I am headed but... I know I am led and I know that I trust the leading. Wherever it is going, I wish to follow. Whatever comes, I know it will have meaning and there are few tragedies so great as a life without meaning... or purpose
I love those great quotes that have come upon me here and there; “study to show thyself approved, a workman worthy of his hire”, “the Thing we tell of can never be found by seeking, yet only seekers find it.” “We have all had the experience of failing time after time in changing old habits. Then suddenly these old habits lose their hold on us. What was so attractive suddenly becomes unattractive. This is a sign that God has accepted our repentance. At this point, my sheikh used to say that we are no longer responsible for those old sins. We have truly changed and we are now someone who is not even tempted to commit them.” “If God brings you to it, He will bring you through it.” “How can anyone ever love you for who you are if you become someone else to be with them?” “Everything you’re looking for lies behind the mask you wear.” “Faith doesn't get you around trouble, it gets you through it.”
Those are among the most valuable treasures that I personally possess. These are only a few. There are many. I wonder sometimes, how often people seek these out when they most need to. To what do they resort when there is some great need to understand the uncertainty of the moment? Our lives and the following course of our lives depends on the choice we make. The quality of our lives depends on it. It all depends on who and what we rely on and have recourse to.