The Long Way up the Mountain on Memory Lane

Visible Origami – April 26, 2012

Dog Poet Transmitting…..
May your noses always block your ear,when it’s ugly and too painful to hear. Ahroooooooooooooooo!
It never rains but it pours. Yet today,the sunlight spills like a waterfall of love, through my garden of remembered pain. It’s possible anything could happen today. God is in his Heaven again. Patrick scores another 3 pointer with nothing but net. We haven’t seethe best of it yet. He didn’t do the whole thing and, since it is a tad profane (grin), I won’t put it in today’s Origami but in the comments when I can.
This I do want to show you. This is one of the most remarkable expose possibilities to come around in a long time. I don’t wish any of it,because people will die from their Kali Yuga addictions; many people will die but the ashes will birth a Phoenix, that flies toward the sun and our new world will have begun.
As always we need to present All the Proof in the World that Israel did 9/11 (While Larry Silverstein is still looking for more money) and then move right along as our faith and hope shall leaven. Rise sleeping angels. Rise dreaming gods. Rise to the moment before us, against all odds. How good can it get, in this transition game, as the healing arrives for the halt and the lame? One day that someday becomes our tomorrow and it actually comes and transforms the sorrow, as our long walk of darkness is turned into light. The true dawn has broken and all is made right and the sons and daughters of the one true one, dance on the mountain tops in joy.
Unbridled optimism can be scary thing but I hear the bells ringing and I have to reply. Lady Nature will come and dry every eye. Good fortune to heroes, the quick and the dead. These are not sugar plums that dance in my head. The wind carries this too, from my heart to you and I’m getting trite so, what can I do? Maybe just go write whatever it is that I came here to say(grin).
It rained most of this month and sometimes it was cold and shiver making, since Spring came so early here in February, but finally the warm weather has come back and I’ll go roam the woods with my faithful four-legged companions today and just inhale the promise of what I imagine waits ahead; around the corner, at the top of the hill, behind those trees off to the right or inside of me where I want it to be.
Some day, one day, all that work, all those relentless days, following one another, on a wing and a prayer,all those mistakes, all those second and third and one thousandth attempts, that led to more attempts, all those things that didn’t happen and those that went sideways, all those small windows that fired up the hope to keep on keeping on, one day that all pays off. So many of us, just slink away and slip away and turn away, because the road through Kali Yuga doesn’t seem to go anywhere, except in circles back up on itself, but that’s an illusion and so is the Kali Yuga for that matter; at least the way we perceive it is an illusion and our idea of the person perceiving, it is also an illusion.
However, one day, someday, becomes today and that is the promise and that is our hope and we truly expect that ain’t all she wrote. Like it says in The Bible, “Eye has not seen, nor ear heard, neither has it entered into the heart of man, the things which God has prepared for them that love him”. As is so often the case, most minds do not forensically inquire into the meaning and impact of the things that pass into the mind and often avoid the analysis of the wisdom of the heart. Things that the mind might grasp objectively, it cannot absorb viscerally, which is why you can acquire all of the knowledge and powers of magic and will,become Magus or mentor, but you will have to return and gain what the heart contains in its formerly unrevealed state. Those who follow the path of the heart, have all of these other things added to it,automatically, but I have said this before, haven’t I? Has it been forensically investigated? I expect here and there it has, because none of us would be here otherwise, including me. How deeply have we inquired? Of course, it has not been deeply enough, because then none of us might be here as well (grin) and then again we might still, but after another fashion and to much greater effect. This is what we aspire to (me and my invisible friends) and this is what you aspire to. Time and results are impressively affected by this, just as“success is speedy for the energetic”, or so says The Bhagavad-Gita but… I’ve said that before, haven’t I?
Just out of our site and closer than we can possibly imagine, the little blue boy and all of his attendants,reside at right angles to our perception. The little blue boy is closer than any of his retainers, though it is the retainers we see,because the object of seeing, is to awaken the awareness of the presence within. It is like a persistent knocking. It’s like that picture/painting that you saw as a child, with Jesus Christ standing at the door and knocking. The whole process is like someone pulling on a door to open it, who turns after a time to find himself in the same room with the object he imagined was on the other side, behind him at the door behind him, which explains his difficulty in opening the door in the first place (grin). It’s kind of like a Rumi poem.
When I moved to Woodstock, I wound up living in a teepee with Michael Green. We used to cook Bannocks in the morning for our breakfast. It’s a Native American dish. Before that, we would be up at dawn and in the winter, we would walk barefoot to the stream and bathe in a truly refreshing manner. Sometimes Michael would walk into town from our teepee site, three miles down the mountain and then 8 miles from Wittenberg to Woodstock to our Macrobiotic restaurant, Five Rock City Road, barefoot. I also owned The Ajna Book store, an occult/spiritual book store, on Tinker Street above the health food store. When Guru Bawa came to town, he took everyone spiritually wired back to Philadelphia. Michael is still there, on his farm outside the city, living with Sally, who was my girlfriend for several years, before I made that fateful decision to go rock and roll, when I should have stayed in place. Well, no point in crying about spilt years at this point. Even if you take the long way around the mountain, it is whether you get there in the end that counts.
Every month or so we’d invite other seekers from the area, to The Stone Circle that was built there at the teepee site. People would walk there in the evening, 3 miles up the road into the woods, sometimes with flashlights and sometimes with only candles and we would all sit around in a circle inside the stone circle, around the campfire and have ‘a session’ built around the Native American peyote ritual, which Michael had brought the knowledge of, from his time at the Hitchcock estate in Millbrook with Timothy Leary. We would chant, “Om Amitabha” all night into the dawn and get so high and unified that the LSD was nothing more than a booster rocket. Words cannot describe or convey the image of those events. These days I would like little more, materially, than to be in such environs again. Oh yes, my brother.
The platform in our teepee was built by one of the masters of the genre, who came from North Carolina. His name is on the tip of my tongue but not going fur… ah.. Darry Woods was his name. He’s mentioned here somewhere and if you google his name with ‘tipis’, he comes up for sure. This beautiful wood floor, with drainage features and air intakes and out-takes, was always covered with rugs and sheepskins. The liner was painted and items from the woods, like birch bark, adorned the interior. Michael and I would chant often and have those deep meaningful conversations one can have under the circumstances. Michael looked like he was carved out of stone and he still does. He was and is a rock and he never swerved in his course. I was much more mercurial and wild but as I said, it’s not how you get up the mountain but if you get up the mountain. He’s one of the greatest artists I ever met and his contributions to this life cannot be precisely measured. He’s a gem and a jewel in god’s headdress. I’m a fuckup but I’m trying to quit.
I met some wonderful people on my way to this moment and I hope to meet such folk again. This is how god reveals himself/herself to us, through other people and through what we become when we are around them. I remember when it went south for me, when a fellow, still a friend but at a distance now, turned me onto Cocaine and changed everything in my world. I didn’t smoke then. I didn’t drink. I walked around in a long black cape and gained such a presence, via routine integrity, that I was even asked to run for town supervisor by the Democratic party. I remember a gathering at this lawyer’s office, when I was talking to, the then town supervisor, Val Cadden, about my possible candidacy and Michael walked into the conversation and said, “Yeah, and what are you going to do about this and about that? That was it for me (grin).
We’ve come to the end of memory lane for the moment and the present manifests around us again. I’ve no doubt we’ll return here at another time. In the meantime, stay frosty my friends and hew to the course, sooner or later we come out into the bright meadow of that which lies beyond all the brambles, tangles and wrong turns we came through and across on our way into there.
End Transmission.
Last Sunday’s radio show is still available for those who haven’t been.
Song:  ♫I Need More Light♫
Lyrics (pops up)


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