Smoking Mirrors – Nov 28, 2018
Dog Poet Transmitting…….
(Greetings dear friends and welcome to Smoking Mirrors. We will attempt to have 3 blog postings, at least, each week. We are presently resident in a cauldron of creative fire these days, due to a radical change in personal behavior that is not going to be denied in manifesting what should have been manifested long ago—- but… as the ineffable has been telling me; “it wasn’t time …but… now it is.” therefore, a couple of books, long overdue, are in the process of being written.
It seems that they are writing themselves and at a fairly frenzied rate. I intend to make up for the time I had been wasting, due to being under the influence of one comestible or another, having deceived myself into believing that if I just went all out, storming the gates of Heaven, God would appreciate my passion and forgive me the fast tracking effort at trying to get his attention (“don’t make me come down there!!!”), which I already had in the first place. All I managed to do was to suppress the natural forces that rendered me higher than I could have been on any chemical and which would have, probably, saved me a lot of grief… all the good I imagined I was getting was only effective at getting me to avoid looking in the mirror. That’s no longer the case and my gratitude is beyond articulating, now that I have located my real mind, which was never my mind in the first place (grin). Subsequently, with a clear eye and an uncompromising vision, I am now able to be a good and humble servant and I pray it continues ad infinitum. Thank you one and all for sticking with me, while I groped in the darkness until finally finding the light switch. I wasn’t being very smart here and there but… at least, now I know that. May God awaken in us, one and all; clarity now prevailing over all confusion and disorder.)
And… (to quote Jackie Gleason) away we go!
I’ve known Lasha Darkmoon, at a distance- but close up, due to sympatico of the mind- for a number of years. Previously, I had not met a woman with the passion for truth and the ability to articulate it that she possesses. She is a fearless warrior. Her two part (Part One) article, “The Plot Against Art” is a classic of the genre and contains information (Part Two)that far too few have the courage to speak about. She’s written a lot of powerful articles. She also has her detractors, just as all of us do, who labor in this field of enterprise. You will find that that article is more an effort at self promotion by the writer than anything else and though I read it entirely, I came away with no idea of what this person thought they were talking about. That is usually par for the course. It seems this individual is mostly distressed by Lasha telling him to take a hike. Hell hath no fury like a blogger scorned (grin). In any case, her latest article is simply one more example of her clear headed ability to tell it like it is. This is not the first time something like this has happened. There are unusual groups of people in various remote places of the Earth. I don’t know if these are the same people I have heard of here and there, who live on a mountain top and dress in white and are considered to be akin to gods by the common people in the towns below, somewhere in Indonesia.
As the world becomes smaller, many cultures are being subjected to the curiosity of fools, in search of adventure and opportunities for exploitation. I tend to leave such people entirely alone but that’s just me. I’m not trying to make friends with bears either.
Crazy behavior is pretty routine these days. I’ve no idea what a ‘gender reveal party’ is. It occurs to me that I am out of touch with the world as it appears to exist these days. The level of conspicuous excess is remarkable. How deadly and infectious is the virus of Materialism? It’s gonzo to the max. When people have a certain level of wealth, they get feverish. It can feel like their body is on fire with an indefinable urge. When that urge gets to a certain point, whoever the person was that had previously inhabited that physical shell is now gone and has been replaced by an infernal presence that is not dissimilar to reckless youth having a joy ride in a stolen car. They put it through every kind of outrage and then drive it off a cliff into a quarry or set it on fire and cook s’mores, while reflecting upon memories of similar moments, or perhaps engaging in a disquisition about Proust and the relevance of Madeleines to the Janus effect in the art of Kandinsky.
Right about now, one or more readers are asking themselves, “where is Visible going with this?” Perhaps I am engaging in subterfuge, because telling the truth these days can get a fellow (or a fraulein) into trouble. Especially if he has credentials. Luckily I have no credentials so… no harm no foul or something like that. Very peculiar things happen and do not happen to me, like very publicly denying one of the biggest historical frauds of all time in the country where the penalty was the greater and more certain than in any other country in the world and I did it near religiously for over a decade. This leads me to the point I have been thinking about trying to make. It’s a difficult point to make; even trying to explain it isn’t easy but I’ll give it a shot.
We are all unique individuals and if we are not …and give the appearance of a drab uniformity, or a mind that hasn’t had an original thought since a brief sequence of time that is no longer even a memory; the potential is still there. It depends on the quality of light in residence. The false light of the world is best suited for casting shadows and the time may come, as the fever of Materialism begins to resemble the Spanish Flu, where hallucinations have gained enough substance to seem as real as anything else. In fact, this is taking place right now, because a widespread agreement has been made between the members of a significant portion of the population to believe whatever they are told because standing apart from a particular consensus makes one a marked individual, like a white wolf puppy, a black swan; the odd chicken out, or any anomaly that causes one to be set apart from others. Everyone fears the unknown except for those who have walked into it and found that the only danger is what they are carrying within them.
Once I was leaving Palm Springs with another fellow; basically getting out of Dodge because we had been arrested the day before for camping out in an abandoned building in the desert with a couple of underage girls. Nothing was going on, we simply all wound up there by seeming accident. When the cops asked me who I was I told them, “Buddha”. I wouldn’t give them my name or any details; principally because at the time I was wanted by the FBI for interstate flight to avoid prosecution for allegedly selling a couple of ounces of pot, which I did not do …but was shanghaied into the appearance of it… because they wanted me off the street due to extemporaneous talks I was giving by the fountain in Dupont Circle. I also didn’t tell them because I was pissed and did not intend to cooperate whatsoever, which is what had gotten me into hot water in the first place. So this fellow and I were hitching out of town, headed for Phoenix.
We had a map and I saw where there was this road that led from the Palm Springs to Indio highway to the interstate. It looked like a very short distance. It turned out to be somewhere between 35 and 50 miles long. It wasn’t a paved road and there was very little traffic, none of which picked us up. In the beginning it ran through orange groves. We each had a sleeping bag and I put a few oranges in mine. Somewhat down the road a police cruiser pulled up and asked us where we were going and asked for ID. The policeman (who was alone) had us unroll our sleeping bags. He saw the oranges but didn’t say anything. He knew that both of us had been in jail the day before. Inexplicably he told the fellow that was with me to get in the back of his cruiser and then pulled away and left me there. I was not pleased. Dark was coming in a couple of hours but I hoped to be at the highway by then. I walked on into what I was later told was a haunted Indian canyon. I assure you the claims were true. I hadn’t eaten much for days. I’d been too broke to buy food. I’d probably tripped a few days earlier. I began to look at sage shrubbery by the side of the road where I noticed a little black king (he had a crown on) about the size of a large chess piece. Maybe he was five inches high. He began speaking to me but I couldn’t understand what he was saying. After this I saw all sorts of strange creatures. The canyon went on endlessly. Then darkness fell and it was truly eerie. I continued on until I began to hear the beating of large wings overhead. It sounded like what you might have expected from pterodactyls and there were some number of them.
This was one of the most intense moments of my life. I was miles and miles from any habitation or another human being. There was a rising fear that was on the verge of becoming overwhelming and these creatures, whatever they were, were buffeting the air and I could feel it. It was VERY palpable.
All of a sudden, out of the blue, I cried out, “Hello my friends! How are you? Come… let us dance!!! I proceeded to begin dancing down the road and this went on for hours, as they sailed in the air all around me. They were indeed my friends because I identified them as such and EVERYTHING is a projection of the mind and this entire universe is a projected idea in the mind of God.
Finally I saw lights ahead and realized that this was the highway. What I did not know was that it turned out to be at least ten miles away. Finally dawn came and the creatures went away and I arrived at the highway. I put my thumb out to hitch and very soon a car stopped for me. The interior was in disarray and the fellow who picked me up had a terrible smell. It was very strong. He smelled like an ape. I asked him what he did and he said he was an anthropologist and taught at a university in some larger town up ahead. I can’t remember the name of it now. This was just one of the sorts of experiences that I had in those days. More incredible events happened, they were as routine as ordinary in those days because they were what passed for normal for me.
What I discovered and have continued to discover is that nothing is more powerful than the mind. The only exception would be Love and which is why I believe, though I have no provenance for the thought; why I believe the heart must swallow the mind. The power available to us is limitless if we are in true identification with the ineffable who lives inside each and every one of us and all we have to do is practice the presence of the divine; however you do it, whatever ritual you perform which works for you; to pray without ceasing or to picture the personalized deity at the point where the eyebrows meet the origin of the nose, or serving selflessly and impersonally as you move through, directing your love toward the divine without respite and channeling it through every thought word and deed you commit. However you do it, you change. You may seem to be like everyone else but you are not. Make this action the single most important action you can commit and commit it again and again and again and again.
The stained glass window of your personality will become illuminated with the light of the lord and in every area where there is some measure of darkness, which is the imprint of your karma, that light will devour the darkness. It will neutralize it. People fear that they will lose their identity in something to large to comprehend. The ego will do anything to survive so one must convince the ego that it is in no danger, even though it is, in the mistaken way that it understands itself. The minutiae of this is complex beyond the reach of this posting. In truth it is simply going to be given a far more unique and lasting persona. It helps to recognize that it is not real in the first place. It is an identity created to protect oneself against the possibility of everlasting life. It has somewhat to do with suddenly seeing that you are naked and hiding from the eyes of the ineffable. Some amount of this may seem confusing and I may not be explaining it properly because it can’t be put into words but we try anyway. Regardless, it is something to think about and far more important than all the unimportant things we give such serious meaning to.
This can be accomplished through brute force, like taking an enormous amount of psychedelics (grin). I have experienced this or, one can leave the details of accomplishing this in the hands of the ineffable by offering it up at every opportunity. “Pick up your cross and follow me.” contains a profound mystery. So does “For whosoever will save his life shall lose it: and whosoever will lose his life for my sake shall find it.” The phrases spoken in the New Testament can be understood on several levels. Christ was clear about there being one meaning for the public and another for the initiates and then there is the matter of revelation, where the phrase comes to life as a living thing; so powerful is its impact on the mind, should one be so fortunate as to have it occur.
Well… I’ve convoluted and taken enough sharp right and left turns without signaling as we drive on with MC Escher mapping the route, so… let us ♫let it be♫ for the moment and we’ll address it again, or something related to it in our next attempt to say what really can’t be said. God bless and inspire and ‘guide’ you one and all!~