A Ruminating Perspective on an Unknown Theme.

Dog Poet Transmitting.......

May your noses always be cold and wet.

I got to the end of an Origami last night, or nearly and... now I'm not going to post it. I'm going to start over. I wanted to talk about a matter that I haven't publicly discussed. I guess I was concerned about people having only one side of the story; concerned about vastly inflated commentary and... felt like it might be cathartic. I believe it was provoked by what now appears to be an act of reverse serendipity, which is also laden with irony, given that the player is someone I was formerly associated with in variously coincidental ways. Something happened and then, several days later, something else happened and it seemed like a slam dunk; my conclusion that is. Now I'm given to believe that I was wrong in my assumption. It's perplexing. There's a little anecdotal tale about Alistair Crowley. The author who wrote his biography, John Symonds I believe, painted a small portrait of him. I'm paraphrasing. He said, “there sat Crowley, his magic wand gathering dust on a shelf, he said, “I'm perplexed””. I'm perplexed (grin).

I've seen a few of these things lately, with all sorts of corroborative evidence, as if some force in the universe wants me to buy into something that isn't true. About 20 or more years ago, I was with my girlfriend, Svargo. It was the most passionate relationship of my life, outside of God. Quite often it didn't seem outside of God (grin). It wasn't meant to be, though it did go on for some time. It's a complicated tale. I am in possession of a great many complicated tales that deal with my life. Quite a few of them I do not understand. Some of them I understand later on but I can't do anything about them, which, often enough, turns out to be the point.

Anyway... one day I was at Svargo's house. We were having a discussion and wound up in a disagreement about something. I was absolutely convinced that I was right. I didn't push it. I said, “we'll see”. Later on I checked and found out I was wrong. It stunned me. I'd rarely been so certain about something and found out I was wrong. Amazingly, this happened two more times. All the events took place in a six week period and never happened again. Of course, I've been wrong about things since but not in the same way. This sequence changed me. I've never been absolutely certain of anything again, besides the existence of god that is. Well, of course, I'm certain of a few things but whenever someone tells me I'm mistaken about something, I check. That's happened here at the blogs more than once.

I mentioned all of these details because they play into this most recent scenario and I have to consider these things, whereas long ago I wouldn't have. Now I'm wondering if this isn't some kind of new lesson for me. The opportunity for over-reaction and operating from false premises is great. I've had various experiences recently that tell me I am not alone in this regard and in some cases, the players don't have the benefit of what once happened to me.

Among those who have spent any length of time around me, I'm noted for certain things; being discreet, reflexively honest and a few other things, some of them negative (grin). I'm also pretty consistent in my relationship with mind and personality altering substances. I'm in far better shape than many might guess, given what they imagine about me and bizarre, as opposed to supernatural events, are few and far between. Oddly, both of the scenarios I am referring to involved this very thing, though the item was different and both of them are associated with projects of mine. The personnel in both instances have a jaundiced and negative impression about me. Ironically, those close to me, people who have been around me for extended periods of time, do not have the same view across the board. In both cases projections and wrong assumptions abounded. It was like something scripted out of Left Field Productions. In both cases there were supernatural events which occurred. They often do.

I'm talking about all of this because of the resonance factor and also hoping that any number of informed astrologers that come around might chime in. These are spooky times. They've been more or less difficult for me since before Christmas. I don't often think about it, for some reason, but there are a lot of presumptions going around, concerning what's taking place on God's drawing board. What does the cosmic draftsman have planned? Which way are things going to go. I call the ideas coming from so many diverse camps 'presumptions'. This does not mean to imply that they are wrong, simply that they are unsubstantiated. A lot is based on the Mayan calendar. Some portions are based on other prophecies or channelings. Some are derived from an analysis of current events. Some are the result of numbers. Conclusions vary widely and many things that were predicted have not happened, when they were predicted to happen, though they may happen yet.

It is a very odd period of time. There is the sensation of events and changes held in suspension. It seems to be an unnatural suspension. Of all the great dramatic transformations spoken of, nothing truly serious and world changing has occurred. Things come to the brink and then they step back. It's becoming uncanny. Sabers have been rattling for so long they've become a soundtrack along with the voices of the talking heads on every side, who are pretty much all, uniformly proven wrong, Politicians and those who feed off of them, as well as all kinds of publicly prominent individuals, by vice of wealth, position, some kind of talent, shameless self promotion, with no justifiable reason, physical beauty and sundry, are all behaving like speed addicted baboons, drunken vaudeville clowns, wide boy jerks and, in all cases, a mockery on their human state. It is so very much for the purpose of demonstration. So...

A logical mind might suppose that the stage is getting set for a judgment upon the performances. I can see the possibility of that. I observe the press into outrage and absurdity. I see the overstepping and over reaching that only amplified hubris of a high order can generate. I see profligacy and indifference to all moral order. They are bankrupt of charity and compassion, bereft of restraint and sane acumen in respect of economic good and all else that affects the common lives, with so much greater intensity than the lives of those responsible for the condition. They are truly insane and without regard for their own souls and lives. They think themselves careful men and women. They think themselves pragmatic and wise but they are reckless fools, dancing on the precipice in the falling of the age. They are doomed and drowning sailors, with no understanding of the sea. The knots they tie are their own bindings. The sails they raise offend the winds. The sealing caulk melts from the fire of ambition, blindfolded by ignorance of cause and effect. They are dead forms walking who haven't seen it yet.

It may seem peculiar or difficult to define, the connection between the disparate parts of this polemic. The tendency toward madness and uninformed presumption attends us all. In an age of unreason, few of us are sane. Sanity has left the building. Many maintain the pretense with electronic minders that keep the mind contained within certain focuses. Many maintain a consistency by making themselves prisoners of low passion and dark addictions. Many escape in brief and redundant interludes, escaping nothing but their attention to the primary task at hand. There is a primary task. It is something that is laughed at and disparaged by the clever and quick, who in truth are double thick, with minds like a McDonald's milkshake and hearts composed of carnal dreams that only promise uneasy sleep and nightmare in the wings. The dreams of beauty, liberty and love are the property of the truly broken hearted, where the doors are torn asunder from their hinges and cannot be closed again.

I used to always want to fix things, as if the one who broke them in the first place was competent to the task. Now I leave everything in the hands of the expert, who made everything real and enduring and made me as well. There is no need for me to fix anything, except my heart and mind upon the presence of its author. There is no need for me to plan or prepare for anything, lest I upset the plans and preparations already in progress. This is a hard one to absorb, to take into understanding at a visceral level. The mind plots without our even engaging it. It is a natural feature of this mysterious thing to be engaged independently of the one who presumes to control it. No one actually ever brings it under control on their own. They might learn to suspend it for a time or teach it to perform all manner of fascinating tricks but true stillness is only accomplished by the one who brought it into being in the first place. What to do, what to do, what not to do.

Maybe I'm wrong about a lot of these things, or a few. They make perfect sense in the Bhakti form. I'm no expert on anything. I've proven that. It seems that I must be reduced to utter helplessness before I can come into utter reliance, before I can even be trusted with simple things. These are not only words, be they curds or turds. One morning I suspect we shall all awaken and find the world very much changed and ourselves as well, for better or for worse.


End Transmission.......

Visible sings: ♫ The Walls ♫
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