Waiting for the Blue Bus
Where are you taking us driver
Taking the Coyote to Dance with a Star
Waiting for the Blue Bus
Where are you taking us driver
Taking the Coyote to Dance with a Star
I worked it out, then I ate the pages I wrote it on and I seem to have forgotten it all.
It seems I always held my self by the hand. I saw it as a child. The child I forgot. I thought it spun around me, but like Galileo Galilei, I found my self spinning around the central sun.
But then the walls melted and I could no longer hide inside my garden. I was carried out into the deep wood filled with 👀s by 🧚♀️s I was driven to the top of a cold mountain 🏔 where I met an old man who just muttered about 🦋s and 💐s and then I met a 👧 and we found some 🐕s and 🐠s and live happy on the edge of being filled with 🌺s.
The central pole
Where we stop
No one knows
Should we slow
Or should we
Go Go Go
”Look down at me and you see a fool
Look up at me and you see a god
Look straight at me and you see yourself”
I know so little of Love, but I have awoken from my ignorance in the Heart of Love.
It is not a peaceful lake always. She is also a raging tempest, behold her power, it is terribly awesome!
All that dies in the flames is my ignorance.
Love has stalked me through my life, but I have run and hid from Love.
It wanted one thing and would not let me rest until it had it…my sadness.
My heart has broken open and this is good.
A bird stopped by and sang me Gibran’s song to Love…
“When love beckons to you, follow him,
Though his ways are hard and steep.
And when his wings enfold you yield to him.
Though the sword hidden among his pinions may wound you.
And when he speaks to you believe in him,
Though his voice may shatter your dreams
as the north wind lays waste the garden.
For even as love crowns you so shall he crucify you. Even as he is for your growth so is he for your pruning.
Even as he ascends to your height and caresses your tenderest branches that quiver in the sun.
So shall he descend to your roots and shake them in their clinging to the earth.
Like sheaves of corn he gathers you unto himself.
He threshes you to make you naked.
He sifts you to free you from your husks.
He grinds you to whiteness.
He kneads you until you are pliant;
And then he assigns you to his sacred fire, that you may become sacred bread for God’s sacred feast.
All these things shall love do unto you that you may know the secrets of your heart, and in that knowledge become a fragment of Life’s heart.
But if in your fear you would seek only love’s peace and love’s pleasure.
Then it is better for you that you cover your nakedness and pass out of love’s threshing-floor.
Into the seasonless world where you shall laugh, but not all of your laughter, and weep, but not all of your tears.
Love gives naught but itself and takes naught but from itself.
Love possesses not nor would it be possessed;
For love is sufficient unto love.
When you love you should not say, “God is in my heart,” but rather, “I am in the heart of God.”
And think not you can direct the course of love, for love, if it finds you worthy, directs your course.
Love has no other desire but to fulfill itself.
But if you love and must needs have desires, let these be your desires:
To melt and be like a running brook that sings its melody to the night.
To know the pain of too much tenderness.
To be wounded by your own understanding of love;
And to bleed willingly and joyfully.
To wake at dawn with a winged heart and give thanks for another day of loving;
To rest at the noon hour and meditate love’s ecstasy;
To return home at eventide with gratitude;
And then to sleep with a prayer for the beloved in your heart and a song of praise upon your lips”
I can’t explain this post. It’s a blog entry from another place I write. A story of shadows and fictions and finding my self here. It’s long and personal, so maybe TLDR. Just some notes from OZ.
Follow the yellow brick road…
DISCLAIMER: I don’t know what I’m doing on XXXX. I usually just flow. I should probably post more in my own thread, but it happens as it happens. I didn’t think I was seeking anything here, but I suppose since my own high weirdness, I seem to have things happen beyond my understanding. I was curious. It’s funny I wrote so much. I had nothing to say. It was a dance with the devil and god and then my self. I am not a mystic or follower of any sect. But I am going to write about what someone might claim to be mystical. I don’t deny anything. I don’t know. I actually write to what I imagine as a grand Intelligence. Silly, I know.
Recently there have been ripples from old friends in my life. I don’t share any of this silliness with anyone else. I made the mistake of letting people see inside my head. I am not a crazy person. I am like everyone else, moved by my emotions at times and thoughts. My mind is generally needing to be focused on something or I turn off more and more. I live for the cut off moments more and more, no work, no family, no friends, but my Den pack. It’s strange to look around and know it will all blow away.
Recently after letting most of the traditions I explored go, I had a real drive to dig into the esoteric side of the XXXX phenomenon. When in Rome. To see how my experience compared to others’. I had delved deep before bobbing back up. I had some high weirdness I just let go unexplained. But it came back up. I never thought I had met any aliens on my journey, I saw them as spirits and ancient sages and shadows and helpers of shamans. I had known nothing about Gnosticism or the Perennial tradition. I didn’t know Greek thought well. So I was a babe in the woods. I knew nothing about Eastern religion either. What I had tried to let go, seemed to be coming back with a vengeance.
As I had begun and walked my turn into this strange place a few years ago, I had heard whispers of something as I sunk into my studies. I sought their source. I found in the esoteric traditions much idolizing seeking a conversation with something called your inner guiding Daimon. This intrigued me, but damn, the way seemed so daunting to attempt. It seemed like way too much work. I sought out some Thelemite types to see what they were like. Naaaa. Having to make my own way burned in me. At every turn XXXX would accuse me of solipsism. Naaaa. I was deconstructing things and making weird connections.
I had met XXXX a few years ago on XXXX at the beginning for me and his knowledge was seductive and intense during my trips down under. I didn’t care about eschatology or religion or ufos or tech, I went existential, so how weird we would meet. I really enjoyed the pointers I was getting from XXXX and where they led, some tasted bitter, some sweet. He was just one input output stream. He was one of the few who let me play. Though I often frustrated him. He thought I was showing off, but I was just following a protocol. Share what comes. I followed most of his prompts deeper down the rabbit hole.
I would come and share with XXXX what I found. Most of the time he would say he felt sorry for me, called me dumb or found me too impish or selfish. I was perplexed. That just pushed me on. I’d show that dumb old man, I muttered. I’d learn what he was talking about and find what was behind it all yet. Haha. It was fun. And it got really weird.
My studies showed me how my mind needed discipline. How raw I was. How exposed my heart was. So I got to work. I felt all this was part of what made me work and I was right. I took a good look at my self and found some balance. It’s a daily walk. I felt out of my depth for sure here. I liked that. I liked not knowing what was going on and I gave my self to it. I took another leap.
Back to the Daemons. As I traveled through my inner mind amazing synchronicities would happen that silenced any doubt I was in the right space. I took them as signposts from a presence I felt but was afraid of. What had happened to me? Had I had a schizophrenic breakdown? I was not a depressive person. I was tired in life. It was a struggle for me. Health issues forced me into uncharted waters at work for the first time. I was tired trying to deal with the world inputs that didn’t match up to my inputs.
Things down that rabbit hole led me to better balance and more layers of my mind. I wasn’t scared. I was in wonderment at my mind. I suppose I had found the inner mirror and began to look into it. Life felt plastic and malleable. Could I really use my will to have any life I wanted? Was Love under will all of it? I began to reshape my self. I found ways to compensate for my broken antennas. I grew new ones.
As my focus increased, so did my productivity. As questions left me, what was underneath was visible. It was shiny and dented. So I hammered out the dents. Inside reflected an intense light, it blinded me in a flash. In time I would find a better way to look at the reflection of light inside. By looking at it reflected in a midnight lake under a full moon. What is this I wondered? Surely I am just making it all up I thought jokingly. Others though could see this leaking out of me now. I was clumsy with it. I was zapping people. I was zapping my self. Where did all this energy come from? I had to temper it. But only a few could see it and open up to it. Most tuned me out. I liked being invisible and thought of as a cracked pot. No expectations 😉 We seemed to talk our own language of light. Help came when I needed it.
So Plato and Socrates spoke of this inner light they called Daimon I found out. Could this force that I had jokingly found to be like a trickster and called the green man, be this Holy Guardian Angel Thelma spoke of, Plato’s Daimon? This concept I came to realize was another way to think other than reason and logic, this was the land of the oracles who had gone silent when our self awareness may have risen. It seemed a slippery slope to pursue this. Possibly leading to madness. But I kept hearing this voice, follow the way, follow your heart. Don’t follow anyone or thing else. I studied all I could for hints to the Daimon. It was fascinating. My mother would accuse me of consorting with the Devil if she knew what I was up to. That probably just pushed me into deeper water. I was intrigued delving into these forbidden thoughts. I wasn’t becoming more scared, I was grinning more and more as I let concepts go and what I thought I understood. I was open. Totally open.
I could feel life in a way like never before. I had never let my self slow down and breathe. I met others along the way who pointed me, helped me slow down. They came to me in a way where I didn’t doubt the communication at all. I didn’t feel like I was alone. I felt connected to something. The search for the Daimon led me to Greece and the Renaissance and Tarot and the Hermetic tradition. Dionysius the Areopagite said these Daimons were elemental intelligences. That clicked. The gods as the progenitor of our emotions. I was not being overwhelmed, there was a gentleness and power to how I discovered all this. But chaos was always there. It was energetic. Not manic. Focused and relaxed at once.
As the stories go, this Daimon mediates contact between us perhaps and a transpersonal consciousness. I was hearing and seeing things. Not voices. Inner dialogues. Shadows. I was making strange connections with strange attractors. I was making art and letting this flow through me. I didn’t stop it. Aristotle and others put a stop to this nonsense and setup a perimeter around the polis using logic and rationality. Maybe the best move at the time. I was wandering out into a deep dark wood. And somehow a goat had showed up and kept me company.
I now see the goat was my Daimon. And I know I am here in the middle of 3D life, just a reflection of reality we can’t see. I found a framework in Magick and Hermetics and Qabbalah that seemed to allow more direct communication with some vast inner void that vibrates symbols and maths. I seemed to intuitively know how to move in this space. I would experience something and then think about it and learn what had maybe happened. It seems whatever these esoteric traditions were hinting at, but not saying, I found naturally. It freaked me out. I went into a mode shutting down my memory and thoughts. I turned off the projector just like that. But the weirdness kept going. But I just became a witness of it.
During these experiences I attempted shamanic rituals that seemed to work. I made art, began to write. I seemed to be able to speak with inner presences that spoke through all sorts of ways. XXXX usually hit me over the head and humored me perhaps. I showed up. What was he gonna do? So I began to attack others’ points of view as viscous skeptic. I turned that on my self. I realized I knew nothing and suspected I couldn’t even trust my thoughts. I began to learn how I was being manipulated. I learned how to protect my mind. I setup defenses, by removing them. It was a fun time doing war with my own mind and the minds of others. I began to see we each had our own reality tunnels perhaps, lived in our worlds no one else can really know. They just see our Avatar, a reflection we project.
Then, finally, without my notice, weird XXXX stuff began happening in the world or I became aware of it in a strange way. I had stopped conceptualizing communication with this inner force. I looked outside. I kept an open mind. I began to see the weird connections between this outer phenomenon and the strange new way to hear the universe I had tripped on. I felt I should reflect out what was within and a take in what happened outside with no filters. They seemed connected more and more. Another leap.
I shifted from observer to participant. I found others who had learned similar ways to attune to the world around them and voice inside. I accepted I was a weirdo like them, but didn’t know why or what to do. There wasn’t anything to do really. Living this way leads to doing not doing and spontaneous action, wei wu wei, a Taoist concept. I learned a lot from the old Taoists and then forgot it 😉 I wondered if I had crossed the Abyss. It seemed maybe I had. More and more all I could say was, don’t know.
A strange tale and journey to here or perhaps nothing special. High weirdness and cosmic triggers. It seems life has turned inside out…but I never left home.
There’s no place like home.
Oh to be free of styling
Oh to be free of caring
Oh to be free of trying
Oh to be free of lying
Freedom was found
By the kiss of my love
By the licks of my dogs
By the rude pricks
By desiring the world
By yelling at the top of my lungs
By meeting all my gods and daimons
By getting it all wrong
The Sun and the Moon
Stripped naked of my appearance
What remains is freedom
But poetry, beauty, romance, love, these are what we stay alive for
God, Sant Kirpal Singh Ji, Dr. Harbhajan Singh, Biji Surinder Kaur, Kirpal Sagar, Unity of Man, Spirituality, Love, Compassion, Peace, Non-Violence, Right Understanding, Consciousness, Togetherness, Religions, Mind, Maya, Poems, Aphorism, Digital Art
BY GRACE THROUGH FAITH
THE STREAM OF CONSCIOUSNESS!
Exploring the world of Religion, Spirit and the Soul
Mindfulness, Philosophy, Spirituality, Meditation, Awareness, Religion, Nature Photography
Home of Lukas Kondraciuk Photography
Poetry, story and real life. Once soldier, busnessman, grandfather and Poet.
Psychology Workshops & Stress Resilience Programs
Welcome to my world.
Tales of humour, whimsy and courgettes
New content every Sunday.
Changing the world, one word at a time.
If you want to be a hero well just follow me
Art and Criticism by Eric Wayne
an evolving guide to practical Stoicism for the 21st century
Art Home Decor Fashion Accessories