Dog Poet Transmitting.......
May you walk in beauty always.
How many times I sit down to write something and my life intrudes upon all that I have to say and that? That is how life is anyway. No matter who the writer is, they betray themselves in what they say and whatever the subject of their efforts is directed to. In some cases it expresses a passion of theirs and in other cases it reflects the manner in which they intend to make a buck. It usually has to do with how they make their way in the world; how they hope to make their way in the world, or the level to which they will go to keep on going.
My life has been a marvel of persistent difficulty for a longer reach than I have known in a good while and I have known some periods of persistent reach. As I reflect back upon the whole affair I can say that, except for brief interludes of momentary serendipity, that is pretty much all I have known. I guess at some point I must have figured that my life might serve to be a series of teaching moments concerning what to do and what not to do AND... we all pretty much do what we do regardless. Even when we know better. We do what our programming and our direction of interest demands. This is what I have always noticed about people and why some people find it difficult to be around me. I notice shit. If you say one thing and do another, I notice. In my own case, one might say, “Yes, he's erratic; some of his segues defy gravity”... maybe 'cause I have no gravity BUT no one... so far as I know can say I don't absolutely live as I speak and that can create problems being up close with others because... truth be told, most people don't. They cut corners, or whatever their reasons may be.
I notice stuff. I can't help but notice stuff; in myself, in others, I have to see because otherwise I am walking blind and I cannot abide that. I refuse to walk into the unknown with no eyes AND the moment that personal vanity intrudes, the moment that self interest intrudes, the moment that something other than truth rings your bell... you are dancing to a music that I myself become very still about... very still. I can't help myself. I literally have no choice. Decades go by and it never, ever, changes. I think that is why so many of us; and we are quite few to begin with, I think that is why some of us seem insane to most everyone else because having that kind of a measuring stick makes everyone else run like a scalded cat.
I've spent my first two weeks here talking to the geckos and lizards. Every life form looks like Poncho to me and so I speak in that special voice that I use when I talk to a dog. I can't transmit what that is and how it sounds in the written word. It's a voice that is a palpable thing. It is like touching. I've been spared a great deal. As an empath, it goes without saying that being separated from my Buddha Dog is a terrible thing. I feel him in my dreams and I see him in all of the curious lifeforms I encounter these days. The ineffable has given me separation. Otherwise I would nearly perish at the loss. Those of you who have had loyal four footed friends know what I mean. There is a kinship that cannot be transferred in understanding by mere words.
When I left Poncho, I got that accusatory stare which said, “How can you leave me. How could you?” You have to understand that not a moment in the day went by without us speaking, in our own way back and forth. The way he was thrilled and jumped up and down when he knew I was headed to the car and he was coming was something to see. Many times I have written here that I don't have anywhere the commitment and loyalty of my dog. My dog can't touch me intellectually but my dog dwarfs me when it comes to what is real and what matters. Compared to my dog I am a dysfunctional shit. Now... how does that happen? Wouldn't you think that with all my gifted abilities I could at least surpass my dog? I fail miserably by comparison. I fail completely. That is why he is my hero. If I could only, ONLY be as cool and real and faithful as my Ponch, I would weep tears of blood upon the unfeeling ground of this desolate age and make it sing the chines of freedom as time goes by; I guess that is some kind of musical double entendre.
I am sure that I owe an apology here and there, mostly because I had my eyes too fixed on the horizon than upon the intimate exchanges of the moment. To tell you the truth, I don't give a rats ass about making do with the people that I move here and there and back again with. I regret mostly that I was unable to articulate my sense of temporary loss and the sure and certain sense of our reunion to my four footed friends. It crucifies me to be unable to do this and so I speak now in my comedy voice to these geckos, these vari-coloured lizards and I Know that the coconut telegraph transmits my love to the only lifeforms I truly respect. As I write these words they are dying by the thousands; whole species are extinguished so fast that it is a blur. I have had a lot of good friends and probably more than most people but my little prancing and galloping and slithering and leaping friends are the most stalwart and true of all the relationships I have ever had in this life. I love my Devic Realm friends and Lord Ganesh has assured me we will all be together up the road.
For whatever the reason, I have been under brutal assault going on ten years now. To tell you the truth I no longer care if it ends tomorrow or never ends at all. I can handle it. In a certain sense I am an Arhat. We are like an elevator; no spiral or gradual up the hill roundabout... it's straight up and down. Intense progress means intense pain. It's just how it is. As ever though, given an icon, should I chose an icon, it would be Nipper, the RCA dog; his masters voice. I love my four footed friends. They are the epitome of love and sacrifice in this faithless age. They are so far past anything that I could aspire to in the here and now. Love for me is not about intensity or fireworks. It is about steady endurance and that steadfast certainty that Milton spoke about when he said, “they also serve who only stand and wait.” and as I remember... that had something to do with being blind.
Truth be told... I can endure separation. I can endure every departure and point of no return because I KNOW there is no real separation. I hold with Ramana on that; there is one self. I have experienced this over and over again. That single self that is like a vast mirror that has been shattered into millions of pieces and there comes the lord... gathering them all up in a basket... maybe it is Ceres with the wheat, I don't know. What I do know is that love is magnetic and it gathers all of its disparate parts together into the single whole. It is like Vishnu on the sea of milk. It is like yugas collapsing on yugas. It is like time so far beyond what the human imagination is capable of. It is why there were rishis in the dawn of the age. It is why there are vanished ages of illuminated light for which there is no historical record. It is probably why they burned Alexandria.
My friends... I am better off than I appear but it is always a trial. I will try to get a radio show together this weekend but my beloved Patriots might take the upper hand on that but I will try. Hang in there. I am... I am.
End Transmission.......
'Just Like a River' is track no. 9 of 11 on Visible's 2001 album 'God in Country'
Lyrics (pops up)
Spiritual Survival in a Temporal World
- 'An Exploration Toward the Ineffable'
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16 comments:
Good morning Vis
Glad to see you are posting again. I look forward to reading your blogs.Its hard not to judge experiences as good or bad, but it could be they are all lessons to learn what to do and what not to do. We never know what the consequences of the choices we didn't make would have been. I suspect that we are exactly where we are suppose to be at this moment. Stay warm while I go out in the freezing weather to replace the damn brakes on my wife's car. Now, there I go again. :)
PeaceMaker
via Homer..
Visible prabhu, your missive reminded me of this short note.
To me and perhaps to you, it's a poem, a song..
“Sometimes, in a summer morning, having taken my accustomed bath, I sat in my sunny doorway from sunrise till noon, rapt in revery, amidst the pines and hickories and sumachs, while the birds sang around or flitted noiseless through the house, until by the sun falling in at my west window, or the noise of some traveller’s wagon on the distant highway, I was reminded of the lapse of time. I grew in those seasons like corn in the night, and they were far better than any work of the hands would have been. They were not time subtracted from my life, but so much over and above my usual allowance. I realized what the Orientals mean by contemplation and the forsaking of works.”
“Depend upon it that, rude and careless as I am, I would fain practice the yoga faithfully . . . ‘The yogi, absorbed in contemplation, contributes in his degree to creation: he breathes a divine perfume, he hears wonderful things. Divine forms traverse him without tearing him, and, united to the nature which is proper to him, he goes, he acts as animating original matter.’ To some extent, and at rare intervals even I am a yogi.”
-Thoreau
Hmm ... Vis,
Maybe the mirror never shattered ...
or, as i find myself expressing It,
maybe Oneness never became Twoness ...
but, i don't know ... just a feeling ;)
Hi Vis,
hope your getting some good vibes back from all of us you have helped endure these times.
I have recurring lucid dreams where a constant companion is long passed on black cat, I came to conclusion that these dreams were actually visitations, and proof of a reuniting.
I have never felt as much emotion as when that cat died, no human even those close to me have who have passed on have come near.
I went to a healing type workshop yesterday and was blown away by the energy and resonance, but particulary the awareness and hope for change.
Most of the contributors to your blogs would have been at home there.
Such things help as this age passes.
Love
Brian
-
when i was a kid, fifty years ago
my grandpa had two puppies
a black one and a golden one
i wanted the golden and one day
we came home and there he was
tied up in the little barn, as promised
you see, every dog, needs a boy
i was never happier, on the farm
of course we were inseparable
until that day, he went on the road
it practically killed me and almost did
i haven't had a dog since, but one day...
real true love, is all around us
if only we could see and feel it
-
may YOU walk in beauty always, dear Visible :)
Thank you.
(Thank you, est ^^^^
The depth of suffering is measured by love and/or vice versa...)
"
What I do know is that love is magnetic and it gathers all of its disparate parts together into the single whole..."..l.v.
Every week or two lately, another two-legged shares with me the deepest wound of their remembered existence: the loss of their unexpected true love (of which all had four legs, actually one had three...)
It seems to me that a great teaching among my people is occurring, and it is our payment for giving our hearts to our canine and feline buddies: there is an intertwining of love and pain that is thought and felt to be unbearable
Yet we bear it.
And as gibran said, The more deeply that sorrow carves into our being, the more joy we can contain..."
And
It came to me that every time I lose a dog they take a piece of my heart with them, and every new dog who comes into my life gifts me with a piece of their heart. If I live long enough all the components of my heart will be dog, and I will become as generous and loving as they are. - Anonymous
Just a note sending joy to a writer who has Sent out so much...
What happened to the nose intro??????!!!!!!!!! I mean, it's like without that I've got the runs and no toilet paper!!!!!!!!
Hey KatyTold;
Beautiful soft words for this cold, wet, gray Monday morning in January.
Peace and love
Oh those nasty zios...
Alberto Nisman, 51, had spent the past decade investigating the 1994 bombings of a Buenos Aires Jewish centre, which killed 85 people. He apparently agreed to finger the innocent Iranians for the deed done by israel as a self inflicted wound to muster hate for israels enemies (everyone but especially Muslim peoples).
Two years ago he began working on a 300-page dossier – due to be presented to a parliamentary committee on Monday afternoon. Because world opinion has placed all pro-zio propaganda as unbelievable garbage the zios decided to kill this sayanim to help the world "believe" it was Iran who did the bombing.
Bullshit. Killing the writer of false propaganda against Iran DOES NOT make the lies true. Iran had nothing to do with the bombing of the israeli embassy. The israelies did it themselves.
I know what you mean about animals. My own special animals are the cows. I could write pages about their special attributes. Regarding Milton's words 'They also serve who only stand and wait' makes me think about their patience as they wait outside the milking parlour - and as they stand within the slaughterhouse, waiting to serve humanity. It puts a poignant meaning on Milton's words
Thank you, Katy Told, and yeah, dog-love is likely the purest I've ever come across. But now a stray chicken has befriended me and brings me to say that chickens are among the most underestimated on earth. This girl is so social, interactive, opinionated, emotional, spiritual. I have been taking counsel from her and she is begging me to summon more courage. It is as if she's saying, "Don't be a chicken." Ha!!
The animals, what a gift. I must remember to tune in more deeply; maybe they have something to say about dismantling Zionism. Likely it'll be something like, "Don't be a chicken."
===
A new Smoking Mirrors is up now-
American Snipers, Vipers and a Retarded Elvis or Two.
Wonderful, heartfelt realizations to experience in your writing, Les. Separation, loss, and change are a true necessity and inevitable occurrence (yea, even prerequisites) as Union, Joy, and Triumph in this amazing condition called Creation.
Having been gifted with a True Friend and Familiar for the first time in my life, I understand what only experience can confer.
Thank you for sharing your experiences and providing yourself as an open ended and ongoing build project of transformation, struggle, and self-realization.
You and your readers might find immense benefit in this essay:
http://www.hermes-press.com/oneness.htm
Blessings this New Year,
Jason E. Elder
Roger. I have been anticipating a radio show for about a month now.
Mes Amis,
Ah, so good to read you guys again.
Brian, as a cat person, I understand. Meow. Viz, I hope you are reunited with your doggers soon, although... A dog is not a cat. Maow Raow.
I spit on car repair and even on bicycle repair. When it rains I spit on buses and trains. We all know that they can absolutely make wheeled things that NEVER break down. The fact that they don't tells us we live in something rediculous. We put up with redicle dunkle and pay lots for it.
They can make lightbulbs that never burn out. They can pick fruit when it's ripe instead of rock hard. They could give us real cream with our coffee instead of that half stuff with RADIOACTIVE SEAWEED in it.
The really hard part is mostly most people think it's just fine, it's OK, no problem. THEY DON'T EVEN KNOW THEY'RE INCREDIBLY POOR.
"But I don't know why she swallowed the fly
Perhaps she'll die"
Love,
Magdelena
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