yoga is tantra

there is an ice blossom that fields snow white blooms



in jagged mountain crevices that ache and moan



amidst the sacred pines of Bear Creek and Wolf Canyon



below Seal Rock.



Here I find myself again.



Again and again, here I find myself,



ever and ever I find myself exactly here,



here and no other.



Forgive me, Great Spirit,



even as I know what I do



without doing anything about it.



My impervious laziness chains me to my self



the world changes around me, and I do not change,



I bear the brunt and fold under the weight,



I am worn down by time.



Aach, ancient ones, share with me your peace,



your sense of quiet purpose in contentment.



Share with me your slow measured life



and your clockless time.





and you, valued witness, esteemed reflection of



multifaceted oneness,



Sink with me, sink deep under



into nothing,



where there is no release















and in rare and all-too-dappled glistening sunlight



of space and time beyond measure, without rhyme



I am traveling so far away,



that I may be born again.



At last I have found my home, dear friends,

my love has called me home,



nevermore wandering alone, my friends,

nevermore doomed to roam.



This is a world reborn, my friends, a doomed and failed last stand



fell over and tumbled

and perished and crumbled

and nourished a desolate land



and we are the ancient archangels and angels

and demons and lepers and whores,

we are Atlantic Lemurian starchildren

posing as intellectual bores



and I Am is too tired to function

space opens, revealing ancient mountains

razed by timeless winds too high and fierce

for words or thoughts-

there demons dwell

and practice peace.



Om shanti shanti shanti

awakening the third eye

Hitler sent a team of crack troops into the Himalayas in order to discover the secret of the master race, the secret of the Aryans.

What he was looking for was Sanskrit. The Knights Templar found it buried under Solomon's Temple.

The prophecy says that as the royal bloodlines of the master race loses its purity, humanity descends and loses its natural gifts of telepathy. This is ok, the story goes, because the Aryan race is destined to genetically reinvigorate the bloodline through chemistry . It is foretold that we regain our birthright of superconsciousness not through breeding but through orally ingested genetic mutation, designed by the Great White Brotherhood to usher in the new Aquarian age.

This has already happened, thanks to our brother the Jewish Freemason, Doctor Albert Hoffman.

The genetic technology lost through spiritual atrophy is now available as a microdot,
and college chemistry leads to the rediscovery of reincarnation, opening the door to a whole new cycle of living and dying

prince angel dracula

"sin is not without beauty,"

sang the sinner, shamefully, beautifully

and it was a poem, too

the sum of all religious thought

Prostitution is a profane and materialistic perversion of the world's oldest religion - mankind's primitive and awe-filled worship of the sexual and life-giving miracle witnessed as the sacred and divine feminine.

Now that we've got that out in the open, lets get the new world disorder underway...

my big heart

my heart hangs down low
my heart hangs down so low it bangs against my knees
like a mushroom dangling between two trees
my heart hangs down low

and my heart likes to get high
my heart likes to fly in the sky with Ras Tafari
Yessa I
Blessed I
my heart likes to get high

and my heart likes to get down
my heart is a bonehead clown
upside down out on the town
my heart's so black and blue its brown
my heart likes to get down

and my heart's gotta be free
none of us need to take that personally
my heart don't give a shit about you or me
my heart's just got to be free

and my heart likes to go deep
my heart's gonna wake you in your sleep
and give you big dreams to keep
my heart is a shepherd and i am a sheep
my heart likes to go deep

and my heart needs to be true
so I'm out here loving you
what else could I do?
my heart needs to be true

and my heart ain't ever going away
no my heart ain't ever going away
no my heart ain't ever going away
my heart is here to stay

why sanskrit hurts my XXXX

an outlandish theory:
In the beginning of writing, scribes were circumcised in order that they always be known amongst the population. Scribes were spellcasters, chanters, wizards, brahmins. they were the circumscribes, an enslaved tribe forced to undergo genital mutilation to be rendered submissive enough to be trusted with the work of writing language - maps by which sounds become worlds. They were not blue-blooded Illuminati, whose divine ancestry carried the genetic makeup of countless eons of mantra recitation and awakened kundalini. They were fully human, entrusted with the Sacred Word and physically disabled to keep the snake from freeing their minds.

But Shakti had another idea...

Abram was a Brahmin. a Brahmin scribe. His genitals had been mutilated at the orders of the Illuminati, and he had consequently been deemed docile enough to proceed with the Brahmanic initiation, and yet the Lord was strong with him, and he was not a docile enough man to tolerate the corruption of Babylon. He was prophet enough to see that the writing on the wall spelled out the fall of Rome, and he wanted nothing to do with it. He wandered West, and his hot chick wife rode a camel after him. They were both in their seventies.

They had like over two hundred friends who came with, and did all the work. That's worth mentioning, probably.

Point being: scribes were circumcised to be distinguished from royalty, who were traditionally the only ones with access to written language, and thus the powers of mantra, which in turn was the path of awakening kundalini. The scribes were understood to be literati - prisoners of the word. Prisoners of language. Condemned to a life imprisoned in the language of thought, without ever awakening the magical shakti, the embodied truth of preconditional awareness. In order to ensure that the power of mantra could never be used by the literati to awaken kundalini, assume supernatural powers, and overthrow the rule of the Illuminati, they were 'circum-scribed' - genitally mutilated as a method of assuring submission, pushing fear into the authority and agency of shivalingam. The scribes were enslaved, and given a master. This master was mind-thought-language-spoken-word, encoded in symbols fathomed by an elite few, secret teachings passed on from father to son, and - times being what they were, the fall of Empire and all - from Master to Slave.

The Illuminati stood around, shaking their heads. Some day, they knew, the literati would find out they'd been getting their dicks chopped off at birth as a means of keeping them down. When that time came, Royalty or not, the Illuminati were going to need a spaceship home...

So the Lord changed Abram's name to Abraham, which means, "Abram ran away from organized religion and ran to God"

the history of everything, almost

Great men cannot organize themselves, because great men cannot submit to rules. We must rule ourselves, and can submit to no other master. It is a great responsibility, a God-given task, and we cannot for even an instant allow our self-mastery to wilt or waver. We cannot give away ownership of our own behavior - we are tasked by our behavior, we are indeed owned by our own performance of who we believe we are.

We cannot acquiesce to rules, because we cannot abandon the responsibility of being a man that God has given us. The responsibility of a man is thus: we must learn to rule ourselves. We must sit by ourselves, with ourselves, and learn of ourselves, until we discover within us the latent capacity to rule ourselves.

Needless to say, the greatest organization in the world has always been run entirely by women.

Its the world's breeding program, run by witches. Written about by male clerics, codified and preached by male priests, protected by male warriors and kings and honored by male religions, woman's remarkable tendency to make babies no matter what the occasion is simply the greatest unfathomable mystery ever encountered by the species entirely, and in the end all men can do is sit helplessly and watch as the world's only two-legged breeding program gets casually abused by these crazy sluts who have no discretion whatsoever, for Chrissakes, and shouldn't we at least offer them a burka?

Or maybe a cross...

Magdalene emailed Jesus: "Hey Jesus, you're cool and all, but you know, you're on this God trip and anyway I'm not available..."

and Jesus is thinking about back when he was Samson, sitting cross-legged on the floor while Delilah danced naked in sweat and moonlight and begged to know what made his dick so big, back when he had sat in meditation with his dreadlocks gathered heavily around his waist and refused her his attention, once, twice, a third time, and she wept, and his compassion unbound him, and he offered his truth: born a Nazarite, sworn since birth never to shave his beard or cut his hair...

-and he jumped her bones while knowing better, and when he slept she shaved him of his dreadlocks, and the gelded men came and plucked out his eyes, and gelded him, and the enemy of his ancestors and his seed enchained him and mocked him, for timeless time, until his dreadlocks grew back and his love grew so great that his love of death unbound him from his love of life-

-and he emails back:

"Aloha, my love"

and just like that you pretty much have the history of everything, almost. At least the mystery of how men and women can ever figure it out long enough to keep the species alive...

a good beginning

This is the foolish truth: Man's noble pursuit of knowledge, his quest for God, ultimately gets entangled in man's quest for language with which to describe his quest. Man finds himself a prisoner of the dark tower - a great library full of words and concepts that prevents him from experiencing any pure nonconceptual experience. Man becomes literate, and falls from heaven.

...and so it goes, thought Bastante as he crossed a great desert. he passed a Man in Black.

"Dude, you move fast," said the Man in Black. he was impressed.

Bastante took advantage of the situation and bummed a smoke.

"I'm looking for DakiniTown," said Bastante.

The man in black nodded wearily.

"Yeah, i figured it was something like that," he said. "You're gonna have to learn to sail, kid."

He yawned and rubbed his eyes. "DakiniTown is across half the ocean."

Bastante took that one in. They watched the desert change colors.

"What's all the way across?" Bastante figured it was worth a shot.

"The Other Side, of course," said the Man in Black. He didn't play games.

Bastante nodded. It was just as he'd thought. The way to the Other Side ran right through DakiniTown...

krishna

Perhaps the truly deep masculine ambitiously pursues compassion to such a radical degree he becomes acquiescent. Sheep do not want a shepherd who acts like a sheep - they want a shepherd who acts like a good shepherd. And yet a good shepherd may, at some point, fear the inequality of his own uniqueness. - who is he, that he loves so much that which he cannot be?

True greatness prays for compassion so much as to aspire to meekness. True greatness may, perhaps, go through a phase of renouncing greatness in order to better serve others. The immature shepherd may perhaps offer the role to all other sheep, even renouncing the role out of shame-

we think that perhaps we can serve others by elevating them and by humbling ourselves. We choose to follow rather than lead, a lion believing he can serve sheep by acting like the least of the sheep. This does not work - it is not dharma for a lion to act like the least of sheep. True greatness cannot remain subservient, yet it must necessarily experiment with subservience and answer the question: by what authority do I exercise dominion? By what authority do I stand taller than my peers, and how can I ably do so without feeling the shame of inequality?

True greatness suffers deeply the shame of inequality.

Arjuna puts down his bow, willingly surrendering, rather than competing, and winning.  Where is the joy in overcoming those we are stronger than? Where is the sense of victory in vanquishing those weaker than ourselves?

Krishna says: do not be selfish. Do not be a self. be dharma. Be necessity. You are as you are; be as you are.

Judas Iscariot

Jesus walks into a bar.

The women are so excited they get up on the bar and dance.

The men are so jealous they crucify him.

History is the story of crucifying the King. History is his story, the story of the crucifixion as the scheme of some jealous cockblockers.

patriarchal government: is  it just a way of keeping the fertility king from his rightful place in the sexual heirarchy? Sexuality carries with it the potential for heirarchy - some men get lots and lots of men get some. The lots-of-men-who-get-some are jealous of those few-who-get-lots, and they organize together to redistribute the wealth, so to speak - almost a form of sexual socialism.

resulting in marriage?  what a preposterous concept.

This is the competition between father and son, actually. Intergenerational competition for the harem is his story - the story of history. Sons band together to overthrow a father who populates the world. why? To populate the world, of course. the heirarchy of the deep masculine is a strange beast...

the king isn't crucified as long as he does his job. As a breeder, that is. A stud bull. The women dance because the King is the Fertility King, and they worship him as long as he delivers. The men adore him, too, with jealousy. They constantly test themselves against him to see if they have what it takes to be king, or more accurately to make sure that the King is the right King. Jesus didn't fight and Alexander didn't fuck. So we've been without a king for most of the last few thousand years, which is a damned shame.

This is the lion. Blessed I, Jah Rastafari

(*Blessed is he who does not take offense with me)..

shanti shakti tantra

there is only one woman, and her name is Everything.

Everything mocks the man who believes himself to be alone

Everything laughs and ruins the man who believes himself to be alone-

she is with him always, forevermore.

In learning to love her, he discovers that he is in love with Everything

in loving everything, he discovers that he is in love with Her

yoga tantra

Life is sex, and great sex is all about loving what you fear most.

The spiritual war being waged is a sexual war, the great conflict between opposites. Men and women need each other, yet codependence is deemed a bad word.

a bad word?

How can mutually interdependent opposites, completely dependent upon one another, cultivate trust when it has been lost? How does the bright space between opposites get crossed; how do men and women accomplish yoga?

Life is sex, and great sex is all about loving what you fear most.

And every moment is life, and every moment is love, and every moment is fear, and every moment is sex. Mother Earth awakens, feel her kundalini shakti

Gollum Christ

Gollum Christ am I, Irie,

first and last am I, Irie,

the darkest of insecure company

in the bottle of the genie's neck

Mythos Logos

Oss, the High Knoss of Mossmoosunlund, pondered deeply and thinkingly upon the linguistic geometry of his own mythological mind. The geometry of consciousness was archetypical, he knew, and learning from these mythological archetypes ultimately revealed the story of man's descent from dreaming to thinking. This is the story of myth, including the myth of history, and even including the myth of chronology, for is not chronology the Logos of Chronos? The Logos of Chronos tells us that Time is a number. Or, as the Pythagoreans taught, God is Geometry, and Geometry God. This is the chronic of logic; we're always running out of time.

Before Chronos, time was not numerical, but eternally present. Chronos, in giving the universe a numerical value and calling it time, invented both past and future, and in so doing separated time from space. Before there was chronological time, it all happened now, and here: with the creation of a perceived then, so was created the perception of there. All experience once transcended interpretation, yet through the geometry of mind, interpretation ultimately learned to transcend, and thus imprison, experience. Through the geometry of thought, space and time became words, numbers, digits, values, integers, geometric symbols, written language, words on a blogsite, and linguistically patterned thoughts- livable experiences no longer. Word separated from sound.

The numerical valuation of time segmented the infinite wave of the eternal now just as calculus approximates finite values on a sine wave. Yet time isn't a number, but cyclical, seasonal, mythological, embodied, experienced, and ultimately maya. Chronos, in his pursuit of the geometry of God, gave the universe a numerical value, calling it time. Do you see the chronic of logic? Without chronology - the Logos of Chronos - there would be no numerical time, and instead we would live within the eternal present. It is within the framework of numerical time that myth has become separate from history, that the Logos of the thinking mind has transcended the Logos of the feeling body. This is a relatively recent event, soon to be remedied via the galactic realignment taking place 12/21/2012, a linguistic, geometric pattern that refers to the beginning of the embodied Logos, the eternal calendar, the cosmic clock of the very long now, the beginning of Chronos' Peace.

Myth itself tells the story of the mythmakers, the storytellers, the empire builders, rulers of galaxies and descendants of the architects of the archetypes, the story of the planets inhabited, planets conquered, and planets destroyed, the story of Empire's fall and the rise of Dark Age, the story of the Seraphim, the Annunaki, the story of history and chronology and language, and thought and personality and ego, the beginning of the Fourth Age and the rise of Man. Power and conflict, confusion and dissonance, these are all part of the ancient story told within the framework of the mythological mind, which cannot be revealed using the rational logos of linguistic thought and must be revealed through symbol and archetype - we must live the experience, without taking it personally. The truth - the eternity of time and the infinity of space - can only be revealed through the irrational logos of breath and posture. Chronos weeps, confined to the dungeon of the subconscious by his own children.

Chronos' grandson, Posidon's Son, the High Knoss Oss of Mossmoosunlund understood that how our thoughts sound matters far more than what our thoughts mean. What we say never conveys the truth, but how we sound always conveys the truth. Very curious. The body, after all, is a sonic temple, a dynamically vibrating cavity that both creates and receives sound, giving and receiving, within and without, 360 degrees along three axes. The body was an oscillator, and the study of the body's oscillations was the science of sound, the science of breath and posture.

Oss was a yogi, like his father before him, and his father before him. They studied the science of the oscillating body cavity, the living, embodied, experiential geometry of sound. They wryly observed themselves as their own living geometry of sound evolved into the living geometry of speech, which in turn evolved into the abstract, disembodied, theoretical geometry of linguistics, or cognitive thought. With mind manifesting matter at velocities approaching the speed of light, the geometry of patterns within the mind was starting to matter. Or materialize, for that matter. The geometry of linguistics was the first law - In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was God, and the Word was with God.

The geometric laws of written language- these fixed, unbendable (and therefore destined to break) rules, gave us the linguistic geometry of writing, which of course evolved into the logical geometry of thinking, which ultimately evolved into the chronic geometry of the personality. Thus was the ego born, and thus did the Golden Age fade away, replaced by the Age of Man, the Age of Time, the Age of Machines.

Kali Yuga. Blood drinker. The Age of Death.

Imprisoned within the Logos, the cognitive geometry of our own making, immortals became finite, burdened with the probability of impossibility, which began to look a lot like the impossibility of the improbable. Because they could not satisfactorily prove to themselves how they lived, they began to die. The chose the measurable approximation of calculus over the immeasurable truth of the sine wave, they chose law over the truth - they chose the Word of God over the living Sound of God's Word. This was a thoroughly illogical leap, yet a thoroughly probable one all the same. Indoctrinated into the law of linguistic geometry and cognitive thought, the immortals began to accept their own finite-ness; indeed, the prison of the Logos compelled them to see that only the finite could be named and labeled: the infinite, being unknowable, must be - according to the written Logos - unlivable.

We only think because we already are, Oss of Mossmoosunlund knew. The infinite is unknowable, and yet livable, for it is truth. Yet within this Dark Age a whole Empire grew out of the backwards assumption that we think, therefore we are - only that which could be explained in words or thoughts could have any reality, and within this prison, that which could not be named could not be lived. When we are stuck in our head, we crave knowledge more than life - we have the bad habit of preferring to think rather than breathe. Let us breathe without needing to understand, for within the peace of easy breathing lies the true understanding...

This is the story: Life itself precedes valuation. There was a Tree of Life in the Garden of Eden, yet Adam and Eve ate from the tree of Good and Evil against the wishes of YHWH, a linguistic, geometrical symbol representing the infinite divine masculine. This was the fall of man: rather than choosing the geometry of life, man chose the geometry of law. Man chose the Word of God over the Sound of God's Word. Can you see the difference? Can you hear the difference?

In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was God, and the Word was with God. There were two trees in the Garden of Eden: The tree of Life represents the living God, and the Tree of Good and Evil represents the Word of God. Does God come from the Word, or does the Word come from God? Does Good and Evil come from Life, or does Life come from Good and Evil? Adam and Eve chose the Word, honoring the Word of God more than they honored the living God! Just like that poor fool Descartes, Adam and Eve had this thought: "we think, therefore we are!" Of course, the opposite was true: Because they were, they thought that "we think therefore we are"... No wonder they got confused; they were thinking with linguistic geometry, otherwise known as words. They chose Logos, understanding, judgment, morality, the prison of the good and evil thoughts, and as soon as they descended into the confusion about the right way to live, they could no longer focus their energy on living. Logos does not and cannot create truth - Logos reveals truth.

It was a dark time, and Oss brooded appropriately. He did it mainly for show, however, since the Dark Age was almost gone, and the world had almost run out of History. The long dissonance was over - space and time were reuniting within the breath and posture of the living truth, and the chronic of logic was finally, at long last, coming full circle to embody the Logos of Chronos - Mythos Logos. Truth is, he was ready to party...