97

My mind is like the autumn moon
Shining clean and clear in the green pool.
No, that’s not a good comparison.
Tell me, how shall I explain?

—Cold Mountain

Behold, Your Daimon

Where does great inspiration and expression come from?

What force drives the madman and great artist or athlete?

Now hold on here, what am I talking about.

Some cannot speak or look inside themselves.

They are storms on earth.

This is a force inside of us, but not our ego.

The Daimon/Daemon is a shapeshifter. 

Part of your mind you can’t pin down. 

You have to feel and think what it feels and thinks. 

It’s like a storm.

We have erected social hedges against it. 

It is like a volcanic eruption. 

Not rational. 

The Daimon feels what nature wants to do through you. 

It is nature in you. 

It told Socrates what not to do, not what to do. 

I listen to my daimon. 

I have seen and communicated with it in many ways.

It is will. 

Fate.

An impersonal force for some. 

Some can integrate it. 

You have to negotiate.

It can punish you and doesn’t care to keep you safe. 

You can give it too much. 

You can surrender to it. 

Hitler followed his nonstop. 

Trump follows his Daimon without question. 

There is no introspection, which is its weakness.

It is not a force of good, it is a force of nature. 

It is immoral, neutral. 

If you don’t think you have one, you are a fool and a muppet. 

A blind robot. 

The ego can negotiate with it, mediates it. 

You don’t delete your ego!

God no!

Daimon does what it does. 

It is what it is.

Your effectiveness depends on your own quality and strength around your will.

I am constantly negotiating with it. 

Don’t surrender to it. 

Don’t ignore it. 

You make yourself irrelevant to deny this force. 

You have to dance and wrestle with it. 

Use your ego’s moral discernment. 

Only you can mediate it.

Honor it. 

You have to eat and work and get along. 

It doesn’t want your best. 

It wants to move through you. 

I have listened often to my Daimon and jumped when it pushed.

It creates psychic disease and physical. 

It makes you into a ufo nutcase. 

Or a conspiracy nutcase. 

Or a trump zombie. 

That is a group consciousness.

You become mindless. 

Doing the bidding of pure will.

Pretty crazy move to go all in with it.

But I did.

It can posses you.

It is Legion.

You can reason with it but it is not reasonable.

You can create a space the Daimon sees when one is open to it. 

You have to acknowledge it and give it space. 

This is part of you, but not you. 

Nature doesn’t change if you don’t understand.

The storm will always be there. 

It has tremendous power. 

Tremendous!

It loves to be acknowledged and given space.

The trickster. 

You have to sharpen your inner hearing.

I was quite amazed to meet it. 

In every psychedelic trip, it is there.

In your dreams you are always meeting it.

You can come to feel its feelings and thoughts.

To give it voice is to sing like the stars.

I speak of forbidden things and forgotten dreams.

I write with my Daimon and make art with it.

It is life. 

It flows in everything.

Once you see it, you can never go back.

Wisdom becomes a curse in away.

We are innocent for only a whsiper of time.

It is guiding us, even into a wall.

Schopenhauer knew it well, when he said, the Will is blind. 

Guide it, focus it and you will go far.

Ignore it at your peril.

69.

In conflict it is better to be receptive
than aggressive, better to retreat a foot
than advance an inch.

This is called moving ahead without advancing,
capturing the enemy without attacking him.

There is no greater misfortune than
underestimating your opponent.
To underestimate your opponent is to
forsake your three treasures.

When your forces are engaged in conflict,
the one who fights with sorrow will triumph.

–Tao Te Ching, Translation by Brian Browne Walker

Overgrown Garden

My house is at the foot of the green cliff,

My garden, a jumble of weeds I no longer bother

    to mow.

New vines dangle in twisted strands

Over old rocks rising steep and high.

Monkeys make off with the Mountain fruits,

The white Heron crams his bill with fish

    from the pond,

While I, with a book or two of the Immortals,

Read under the trees–mumble, mumble.

–Cold Mountain

Seven Petals of Love

From the Interwebs…

I. Heart to heart, smitten by inner thunder, and the veil between our souls is torn asunder. Naked feelings, purity of our being, and no more doubt to stop what we are seeing. Eye to eye, beyond the world of form, as we transcend the voices of the storm. No more division, only sounds of bliss, as we dissolve in an eternal kiss.

II. I believed, but that only caused me to doubt, and I could not be devout, for the belief could be wrong, and I could not complete the rapturous song, but now I see it is a call of destiny, and the song is flowering, it is all-devouring, a passion so pure I drop a tear, but of blood red in lyrics that are shed into a shoreless sea of love and beauty.

III. My love is now infinite, it is embracing all time without limit of any kind, a never ending source of rapture sublime. I cannot shake it, like a dream or a thought, it cannot be fought, this love I’ve got. When the sun is standing still, this love I still feel, and when the moon is dim, and the earth is grim, it is still aflame, this love without shame, without desire, pure will, on fire.

IV. Dancing in a trance of romance, without a dancer, only the dance, the free movement of circumstance, like the planets and moon floating in a swoon, my true will in motion, an act of devotion, for union with the one, the all, and none, for weal or for woe, above or below, with a smile or a tear, with the blues or a cheer, for my law is, Do what you WILL with LOVE and no fear.

V. Love does not fade like a romantic serenade, even when we are apart, there is the eternal song of the heart, and no matter how distant from each other we may be, we are still united by the arms of eternity, and still we converse in the inner universe, with feelings beyond sense, without pretense, with words without letters, meaning without fetters.

VI. I love you more than words can convey, but here I am with so much to say. I love you, my dark flower, during every hour of the day, you have changed my heart and made me want to stay in this world of ignorance, greed and dismay, for you, for us, and for the lovely Way, the Will of Pan, and Nature’s play. I love you, my dark flower, my Rose of Agape.

VII. A reverent kiss, this lyric of love, for you, and every goddess below and above, for you are the One, the Goddess BABALON, the moon in scarlet riding upon the sun, drunk on the blood of the stars of dawn, my BABALON, my love, my flower, whom I call upon this passing hour, for life or death, with fleeting breath, for all, for one, O BABALON.

where the free roam

the earth trembles

the sky thunders

the waters part

beyond reproach

we leap

with the sureness of a goat

we know the love god

in ourselves

we die and live free

true to our purpose

fire and ice

65

Yesterday I saw the trees by the river’s edge,
Wrecked and broken beyond belief,
Only two or three trunks left standing,
Scarred by blades of a thousand axes.
Frost strips the yellowing leaves,
River waves pluck at withered roots.
This is the way the living must fare.
Why curse at Heaven and Earth?

—Hanshan – Cold Mountain

enflamed

i felt it in my groin first

the heat moved up

through my veins

i felt a burning inside my chest

like lava hitting the ocean

pressure building

skin sweating

fire erupting

through every pore

enflamed with holy rapture

eye in the sky

I feel the sky
I feel the eye
I cannot deny
I don’t ask why
I do and die

-smelly

Love the Children Anyway

103

No need to attack the faults of others
no need to flaunt your own virtues
act when you’re acknowledged
retire when you’re ignored
rich rewards mean great trials
deep words meet superficial minds
think about what you hear
children must see for themselves

-Hanshan