2019-10-17

yea, but ours is a *transdimensional* Motorcycle Club



mahabone












Ingress to undress..



A path can’t be lost, but an ego may (mis)lead it to be forgotten. 

Only an odyssey through the ore of the present will arm you to chisel through the ego. The crux of the c(o)urse my loves, is that it's these journeys which etch the ego in stone. 

Sometimes words are wallpaper. Carelessly smothered over the core of truth. Bubbling, and masking (refl/p)erfection with a senseless motif.

In duress. 



*A HEADLINE!*
                                                              <Stained of Sweat And Smoke.>



We will chant and ride to every corner where you(r) will hide(s).

We won’t wait, or debate, our time has (be)come.

We will no longer tolerate ceaselessly obtrusive transmissions in the realm of meaning.

We will.


The inside scoop is that we are invariably injecting from outside of the self, scuttling to unearth the exit from it. Unrecognized by us, what we perceive as the exit from pain is always the entrance to the ego. As we are repeatedly snared by the self. Relentless and repeating. 





*A self-portrait*
<found hidden under a mattress.>



You strip away the flesh like wrapping paper from a present.

Stumble through the flow, stoop and falter towards an alter. Best to arrive convoluted and confused. 

The gods need your emptiness to be consumed.

I feed off you, and in turn I burn away my being.

A sparrow -

Returning.
To smash against the window.

Again, and again.

I’m not myself.

Smash!

I’m not…
Slam!

Myself,,,,

Smack!
Again.

To the well of the will.


Ego is eternal and memory is forgotten. We are infernal, and our home now rotten.

We will swim to shore, under our own volition, once more.
We remember ourselves in relation to others, and yet we focus on ourselves.


An empty mind and a satchel slammed full of forgiveness will grant you passage over power.









Eidolon, Eidola -

there was the idea that each thing threw off images or representations of itself off into the surrounding space and that a thing's location is not as precise a notion as might be expected on first glance with the visual faculty. But it may be a matter of question whether or not the eidola were to, or from, the cosmic periphery - or if it's a combination of the two.


We can see that this notion of eidola is valid by considering our own apparatus of physical sight, wherein we have our two eyes positioned at some location in space relative to the object we are viewing.

For sake of simplicity, we may as well consider that the eyes are united at one location. Now, we can move our head and Eye around at will, there continuing to be a representation of any object present in our minds, as, in the ordinary physical sense, there is a cone of light proceeding from each material object into a point in the surrounding space.

That is, in each point of space there is a representation of all the visual information in the surrounding sphere, only needing an Eye to call it forth into existence.





This is true not only for visible light, but the invisible portions of the spectrum as well. The question is how do these ghostly eidolic representations interact from one point of space to the next, and must the Eye only receive information from a direct line to the material object, or is there retrievable information in the space surrounding any object..?



This surrounding space and the data available there to a heightened visual sense is what is perceived as the aura, and it belongs not just to organic entities, but also those considered as inanimate - it is only a question of the degree of activity within that Eidolic sphere, as it is with the material objects themselves.


An exercise to awaken the faculty of being able to recognize this aspect of the eidola is to mentally focus on the space surrounding an item, as well as to focus the eyes into so-called empty space - at first by degrees in distance from a material focus. Happy hunting..





















on the nose
heavy blows
out with 1 dose
is our m.o




esoterical gangsters, psychonautic pirates & a trans-dimensional motorcycle club..!? wtf







"We were perfect when we started
I've been wondering where we've gone"

- counting crows








'Man's maturity: to have regained the seriousness that he had as a child at play.'

- F.W. Nietzsche







Dare to be archetypal, kids!






the 'secrets' are energetic structures which are to be embodied, and this is why they have never, could never and were never communicated to begin with...



Tantrik transmutation.. understood to be the process of integrating positive & negative energies.. Lao Tzu taught that criminals come directly out of the need to police..so if we are serious about eliminating crime, maybe we should tackle the problem at its source? Just a wild, rambling thought ;


what the tantrik practitioner eventually comes to realize in the process of processing their own masculine and feminine energies into a balanced synergy is the emergence of a dramatic change in their own internal bioenergies which the alchemists of yore described as 'the birth of a child'. did anyone imagine those professional obfuscationists could get laid to begin with!?

no.



the outcome of the process is the gradual removal of egoic shells & encrustations, the unconscious vestiges of trauma and other obstructions which tend to accumulate just by living in the world today.


this is why it is so difficult, and often described as a dark, turbulent night of the soul.

once the process nears completion, however, one is seemingly open to accessing an energetic Adam Kadmon, an outlook and vitality more often seen in children than in adults..





In brief: attune to your inner child.


Maybe growing up is our original sin.





And if the best means toward that end (which is more accurately a beginning) is creating stories around your life, developing an (over?!)active imagination, inaugurating transdimensional motorcycle clubs with obviously intentionally absurdist names like the we were never (w)here order, only to invite the psychonautic pirates and esoterical gangsters of the future to take up the challenge & join them, then we say, so be it!










laugh loudly (=LL)










she is me in a glass darkly
or, like, she's the figure, i'm the ground
and/or (is this a bore..?) vice versa








the fine print










"The sage embraces all things. Ordinary men discriminate among them and parade their discrimination before others. The sage harmonizes with both right and wrong and rests in Heaven the Equalizer. When affirmation and negation came into being, Tao faded. After Tao faded, then came one-sided attachments. So I say, those who discriminate fail to see...

To know that all things in the world are equal and the same - this is the only way to eliminate the chaos of attack and battle and the harshness of punishment and execution!" 


- Zhuangzi






 







"There is obviously a dimensional difference between adult life and the mood of a child. Consciousness from the start finds itself as "Being-in-the-world," from its first appearance, consciousness identifies itself as a being coexistent with others. And it happens that the necessity of living makes consciousness look on things in the world as being in the nature of equipment. This encourages the development of the egocentric "I," and this development in turn reinforces the tendency to view the world as so much equipment. Fighting against the world, fighting against his loneliness, fighting against himself, man has lost the sense of richness of his childhood. Everything is looked upon in the context of equipment, assessed in terms of its utility and serviceability. Need our existence develop only in this way? Can no other way be found? Can we not cast off this mood? We can. There is another world of mood, different from that of the adult's world, the world of children.

There are two worlds of mood, one represented by the child's world, the other by the adult's world. Even in adult life, however, the mood of the child's life is not completely extinguished. It occasionally reveals itself through some chink or crevice of consciousness. The more accustomed to it you become through Zen, the more often you will return to the mood of your childhood, and the more frequently you will be visited by the mood in your daily life. When you first become aware of it you may well be struck chiefly by its strangeness. Some will ignore it. You will catch hold of it firmly only if you are determined to find a way out of your spiritual deadlock.

When you attain enlightenment, on all sides of you, right, left, before, behind, above, and below, you find Buddhas making merry. And you yourself participate in this delightful party, which goes on in a voiceless serenity, with every scene and every individual shining and animated, yet silent, like scattered jewels. The bell tower, the rows of tiles on the roof, the trees in the garden, the stones, the flowers are all overflowing with joy, like happy children in the kindergarten playground. This is the world of children's art, a highly intensified expression of existence. Everything is all right as it is. Is there anything else to be sought?"


- Katsuki Sekida, 'Zen Training: Methods and Philosophy'  








2019-09-07

(d)evilution



or, Steal this Western Esoteric Tradition (hey, it was yours to begin with)
















We live in many worlds, over many hours and many days.

Who we are is not the same at any one time or the next. There are always, at least, micro-fluctuations in response to stimuli and the ever present aging, running down of the body.

And our minds truly are legion, housing all sorts of characters in changeful interaction - battling for control of the 'I'.

Whispering words: the fighting kind and sweet nothings, attempting to direct the outcomes in reality portended by the royal 'I' that must become the royal 'We' and unite the disparate forces of identity in order to come to wholeness.

All the people we meet, pass on the street, and the ancestors passing down their influence live on in internal presence.

It seems there is some sort of mirroring going on here, when we look out our eyes, hear with our ears, feel with our flesh - smell and taste. The inside and the outside are liminally united and we are the surface between two drastically different realms, the laws of which we know but little.


Let me call the consciousness, the 'Eye', to include the confluence or stitching together the current sensory input into one unified experience of the present. Effects, events, states find themselves placed before the 'Eye' according to the internal structural state of that 'Eye' and in the contrary direction, the external happenings are reflected in an internal changing of the state of an 'Eye'.

In order to cause a change, we are "closer" in some respect to the internal side of the Eye, which manifests, if you can call it that, as mind - hidden and obscure. We can direct the mind with but little required force, though much finesse. There is a part of our mental apparatus that constructs the reality in which we seem to exist based on patterns identified by the senses - and the body of the (human) world is truly that of man.

Through trial and error, events in repetition are cast in to memory and thence cast forward, outward into the world which confronts the limited self in the mirror of being. There are various levels to the subtlety of the patterns that may be discerned, some of which can only with difficulty be communicated due to the inability to "point" and for lack of a name.

The structure, however, of pattern is ultimately geometrical - the world our minds form is in many, if not most, respects a geometrical creation, or presentment.

Thus to be able to recast the world, the external world, in a new form requires a sensual and living mathematics of transformation, to be aware of the base forms into which the sensory data is organized and given meaning, and how those forms may be variously (inter)converted and rotated amongst themselves.

The possibilities for action in any space are determined and limited or extended by what the formal structure of that space allows.


No wonder there is but little magic in the common, work-a-day world.














the game of everything falling into place



this is a true story. one day i was accosted by 3 wayward travelers. they stopped me on a walk to now/here, asking for directions. we'll call them jubela, jubelo and jubelum since at the time i didn't dare/care to ask their names..




in any case they asked me for direction & of course i misdirected them knowing their lack of sincerity..similarly, they must have intuited my intentions for the next thing I knew i was in a hospital bed;

dead or alive, I knew not.



...



as I slowly recovered, crawling my way in agony out of the maw of hell & across the abyss of oblivion, it eventually dawned on me that the ill usion feeds itself..

that breath is the distance between life and death..


that the only way to really(..?) live is to be true to yourself..


that we are the truth, the way, the life & yea, the very death..





for if we're not?



then who f'ing is..





















Free-fall is the admission

Ask yourself:
Who is to blame,
for participation insistently gravitating towards struggle?

Still
- it’s all in your mind, and for yourself?
Why do you need release?

The shadow will eventually cave into itself,
So give in.
Put up your feet – but best buckle up.
Straight into the yonder.

The only way to ride that ox is to become calmly unified with anxiety.

Herded ‘tween flag an’ flame -
the only choice left for me, was shame.

Hit me between the eyes,
Or we gunna have it out again.

Untold absolutes absolve.
Winds from shore growing old,
ain’t nothing we’ve never been told.

Conduit is all I feel
sands of soul, all I breathe.
All that I see is myth.

Scattering temples -
doesn’t invoke a throne.

Stick to the steel.
Sweeten to their campaign,
But when their peace overtakes you
-          you’ll run from it.  

When you’re conditioned not to peep,
you can only scream.

As the slivers of land slowly let go -

The stone stands alone.

And will atone.


. 


Everything with unity is precise(ly)
unaware.

Step out our (wit)hin.

A line.
A consequence.


Like there was a choice?
If only we could invoke our dreams…
…now who was it…that chased them from our minds…
and lock us into our heads?


I don’t cast the shadow
I merely appear - within.



An unearthed sub-human beauty has overtaken me.
The waves are still infinity.