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