“In The Kingdom of the Hungry Ghosts”

Visible Origami – January 25, 2011

Dog Poet Transmitting……..

‘May your noses always be cold and wet’

One of our readers mentioned how many men and women are losing their homes; their apartments and I suppose a lot more as well, in Colorado. Meanwhile, the flatulent media keeps talking in a sonorous, snake hissing tone about the good life and all the accessories that go with it.

I really wanted for The New Shangri-La to be a place where people from the same locales could meet each other and maybe carry it a little further, into friendship, a community, something more than we presently have. The New Shangri-La was meant to be a virtual community in search of solid ground. I’ve lived in a communal environment and I have to say that I’ve never experienced anything better in this life. When you have the right chemistry and the right people, the joys are truly abundant. It’s like having playmates on call; not those kind of playmates (grin).

I’m publishing 3 books in the next couple of months and releasing a lot of other material in the hope that it will generate the finances to fund a prototype. Maybe some rich patron will appear; maybe more than one. You never know what’s going to show up in life any more than you know what might be gone the next day. You just have to do what’s in front of you and know that it will lead to promises realized if you don’t turn aside.

The fact that it’s getting tough for so many people, about whom the media is blind or indifferent, only proves out how really sleazy that industry has become. The level of corruption throughout the web of temporal control is near total. There appears to be no bottom. The limbo bar is now below the surface of the Earth.

I guess we’re all being refined through suffering in our own ways. I had a massive bladder infection, followed by an unpleasant flu, followed by a car door on my hand and then, as everything was leaving and I was looking forward to the return of what passes for normal for me, I find I have a hernia that I have to go into hospital to get stitched up. It’s right there where the bladder infection was. What are the odds? Meanwhile my life courses toward the 29th and the beginning of ‘the rinse cycle’. I’d be laughing but it hurts to laugh or to cough. Now I know why they do that coughing thing. It’s a small tear, thank god for that. The doctor says it has been there for awhile and that my colon cleanse brought it to the surface. He says that’s a good thing. I asked him if I could get a case of acne to go with it.

Interestingly, before I knew what this problem was, I was trying to sort out this pulsing bulge that wanted to protrude from the right hand side of my groin. I said to myself, “maybe I’m just being told that I have to heal myself and maybe that’s what I should do”. I went into my bedroom and laid down on my back and placed my hands on the affected area, truly believing it would resolve itself. After a short while I could tell that it was better. When I got up this morning the condition was gone. I thought, “Wow”. I was telling the doctor about it and he said that that was the way this condition is corrected, at least temporarily, that what I had done was exactly what I should have done and that’s why it worked. But I didn’t heal it. You can’t heal this particular thing because it’s a tear. Wait a minute. I don’t know that. Maybe it can be healed. It’s such a minor thing though that I’ll take my chances in the dark zone.

I haven’t gotten angry about this. I haven’t gotten disturbed. I’ve just gone through it all and that’s a large improvement on how I have sometimes responded in the past. I’m so tired of being messed with from so many different angles that I can get a little abusive toward my author, who seems intent on abusing me as if it were a full time career move. I get pissed off about it because I never get any ‘whys’ or ‘wherefores’ and it doesn’t do any good either because it has no noticeable impact on the author, who tells me that everything I’ve been waiting for and searching for, for my whole life and other lives as well, is just around the corner now. I’m here to tell you it’s the longest corner I’ve ever seen and I’m getting mighty suspicious that I already went around this circle once or twice before.

This tells me I’m in a holding pattern, like a plane over an airport. Sooner or later they’re going to tell me to dump my remaining fuel (metaphorically speaking) and come in for a landing. I suspect I’m supposed to suddenly recognize where I am or realize that I’m somewhere I’ve never been before. Cue the song “Where or When”.

The best thing is that I’m not getting angry anymore. I notice my voice is softer now too. I figure whatever science project I turn out to be is getting pretty close to term and maybe I haven’t been going over my own footprints like it appears but am actually on some kind of extra-dimensional elevated track; a spiral that’s taking place in my mind and only seems to parallel the world outside.

Last night I was thinking about all the things that could be wrong with me, before the doctor told me. Hearing what the problem was came as good news, considering what kind of news I might have gotten. I don’t really expect anything major though, not until I’m done with whatever it is I came here to do, because now I know that there is something I’m supposed to do and I know I have to do it, without knowing what it is until after it’s been accomplished. That’s kind of how things work in the messed up metaphysics of my personal passage. It came in bright and clear in my mind a little while ago that I chose to come here for a specific reason. I didn’t have to but I chose to. That led to a bout of, “you idiot! What where you thinking”? This went on until I wound up laughing about it, like I always do because you either wind up laughing or crying. I’ve done both but laughter seems to be the more consistent response.

I’ve got these terrific ladies that are assisting me in my efforts at publication and creating a professional web presence. I should probably call them people but they are more emblematic of the pending arrival of the feminized wisdom of the coming age, which is supposed to ameliorate the persistent brutishness of the male dynamic of so many centuries past. They are already to go and here I am being dragged down by these repeating incidents of incapacitation and it’s totally inexplicable to me why this should be going on when all I have to do is get my end together and we’re sailing into the harbor. I add this because people are bugging me about where are the books and other items that are supposed to be here already. They’re coming. It’s just taking longer than I thought it would.

We’ll have that New Shangri-la. I’m determined to see it come to pass. If I have to generate it out of whatever I’ve’ got left in me, I will. I don’t know if it’s a community or a fellowship of friends but it’s something with a roaring fire inside and an atmosphere of Nature abutted against The Devic Realm, with all those hidden doorways finally visible to the eye. It’s got the smell of tea brewing and the perfume of the wonderland beyond that seeps through the cracks and crevasses of our collective dream sanctuary.

I think about all the weary travelers who come up against those moments when they are certain they can no longer continue. The trail has become too steep. The fire within has reduced to embers. The voices ahead have gone mute along with the voice within. I think about having been there myself a time or two. Somehow you go on. Some of us have no choice. Somehow we made some kind of irrevocable decision back in a forgotten moment and we are meant to soldier on no matter what.

I wish I could offer a place to all those souls on the edge of fear in Colorado and everywhere else. I am determined to find such a place. I can only hope they hang on until it comes into being, for it surely will. It surely will. We should just let the dead dance with the dead in their feast-houses, there in the Kingdom of Hungry Ghosts. We the living have another path that leads out of the graveyards and into the coming new world, beyond this moment of indefinable pausing, while both worlds hold their breath, here on the precipice of change irreversible. What is to follow has been coming for a long, long time.

End Transmission……..

Persephone (I think a lot of us are secretly in love with her)

Source

Smoking Mirrors

Smoking Mirrors looks at much of what the mainstream media ignores. While in Profiles in Evil, he seeks to expose those shrouded in darkness to nature’s most powerful disinfectant, light.

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