Here are some recent musings from my facebook …
Thursday: Happy Thanksgiving! Gratitude is the great attitude. The greatest trick to life is just learning to receive, because God has made the universe is so abundant, generous, and always ready to give.
(Lots of people liked that one, such nice people!)
On Wednesday,someone posted a graphic of this beautiful purported Hopi prophecy. "When the Earth is ravaged and the Animals are dying, a new tribe of people shall come unto the Earth from many colors, creeds, and classes, and who by their actions and deeds shall make the Earth green again. They shall be know as the Warriors of the Rainbow."
I wrote: I like to think the Rainbow Warrior prophecies are genuine, although even if they are a modern invention they are inspiring. The 1962 book "Warriors of the Rainbow: Strange and Prophetic Dreams of the Indians" by Willoya and Brown is often criticized for its Christian hippie agenda and surprising anti-semitism, but it did inspire the Greenpeace movement. Here are some links to native stories that relate. -- I also like the song "Rainbow Warrior" from the second Buggles album, anyone remember that?
On Tuesday, someone posted a graphic of a Wayne Dyer quote: "I cannot always control what goes on outside but I CAN always CONTROL WHAT GOES ON INSIDE."
I wrote: I have to disagree. People do not have control of inside or outside. Who would want to control their relationships? When love not control is the goal, then inside and outside are the same.
Explanation: This is a serious peeve of mine. Wayne Dyer may have meant something good, but largely this quote points to the ego which thinks it ought to be able to totally command and dominate something, with the supposedly mature version of this impulse being to let the world do what it wants because at least I can control myself. But this can easily lead to a don't-blame-me superiority and victimhood which says hey, I'm perfect, I didn't make this mess, why can't you control yourself like I do?! That's utter macho bullshit of course and highly destructive. Control is neither possible nor fun, and those who seek it will lose control until they learn their lesson. Talk to all the compulsive obsessive mentally/emotionally ill people in the world today, they're certainly not able to control what goes on inside of them. They and everyone they love suffer horribly, which is both sad and dangerous.
Love is the answer, love is the restorer of all powers necessary for good living. In love, you trust and play with your friends, you enjoy giving and receiving gifts, and you have no interest in controlling outcomes. Life is full of miracles and wonderful surprises, life is not predictable. Control kills relationships, control saps power, control is a false god.
The importance of my stand became clear to me by a message from the universe that very Tuesday night. Someone at my dream group asked me about how my book was going, and whether I had a certain writer I admire and emulate for their style, perhaps Wayne Dyer they spontaneously suggested. Wow I thought, thank you, I really need to keep writing! I may have things to learn from Wayne Dyer's success, but he is not saying the ideas that I know need to be said.
Also on Tuesday, someone posted a graphic of a Buddha quote: "Holding on to anger is like drinking poison and expecting the other person to die."
I really liked this and wrote: Yes - and I think even positively expressed and released anger that hopes to change someone else is like drinking medicine and expecting the other person to get better. We have to expect to be the one who changes with our emotional self-respect. Anger can be constructive, but I spent years perfecting my anger expression with my eye on how others would improve, until I realized that I'd changed myself and it was I who could move on easily, so if they wanted to stay stuck that was their problem now.
Later I commented: Oh and about that Buddha quote, guess what, he didn't say it. What the Buddha really said was: "The problem with great internet quotes is that you can't be sure who really said them."
For more details see: Fake Buddha Quotes and Quote Investigator
Saturday, November 24, 2012
Wednesday, October 31, 2012
Halloween Memories, and Hildegard's favorite pop song
Some of my earliest memories of childhood are my making otherworldly creatures such as dragons, ghosts, mummies, and more. I drew them, sculpted them, and told stories with an almost obsessive precocious passion. This was not just at Halloween but all year round. As I see my own kids sketch monsters today, I realize that some of this is only natural, as our culture teaches many popular movie monster forms, and children have a lot of fears to conceptualize and try to conquer in stories and images. I went through some phases of distinct influence, such as drawing griffins and medusas from Greek mythology, vampires and frankensteins from gothic Hollywood, tentacled aliens from science fiction, and bumbling spooks from cartoons like Caspar and Scooby Doo. The dragons did seem to transcend the trends however, as I perennially imagined them in fantastic writhing shimmering scales and soaring on great bat wings, sometimes dreaming of them taking me for rides even to this day. In 1998 soon after I remembered that I’d been Hildegard of Bingen in a past life, a dragon lifted me high above the Earth to show me the future of the planet, as great interlocking chess-like movements of energies and populations would rebalance the world into a great awakening within my lifetime.
As a child I loved to prop the sofa cushions and pillows into not just forts but corridors and chambers of spook houses filled in my mind with eerie delights. I fantasized and sketched for the construction of a haunted house ride in the backyard, perhaps all impossibly contained within the little woodshed that was filled with dusty logs and spiders. At the harvest time county fair I would eye the spook house attractions with great fascination, convincing my dad to take me through them until I decided that they were either too scary or too boring. Nothing would quite satisfy my own imagination. To my surprise, my mother picked up my spook house ambitions in my teenage years, some time after I’d moved on to other things like model railroading and girls. She actually convinced the Presbyterian church to let her convert the fellowship hall into a haunted house, sectioned by black plastic hung on wires into six tableaus of the strange and horrible. Local kids of all denominations thrilled to help her build and animate the sets and costumes, which were not so gory as fantastic, and certainly not like the relentless murderous trends seen in Halloween entertainment today. Still, I and some others questioned the church appropriateness of the popular small-town extravaganza, which ran for several years.
Toward the end of my mother’s spook house run, we started hearing of the Hell House phenomenon, in which evangelicals would stage Halloween attractions in their own churches for a different kind of entertainment. There, biblical gore for deadly sins was piled on gratuitously to torment and terrify the haunted house visitor into fearing for their own upcoming damnation and converting to Jesus (or some church’s version of Him) before the night was over. That marked the end for me of any fright appeal. From that point on I started to fantasize of Heaven houses, complete with inspirational tableaus of angels, fairies, and holy ghosts, within the magnificent homes and lands they surely populated. Rainbow glens, crystal cities, talking forests, dancing lights. I felt certain this would be the seasonal entertainment of the future, and I know now that the annual Mystical Art and Talent Show I’ve run every October since 2001 at the Swedenborg Chapel in Cambridge carries this torch. To the naked eye there may appear but local spiritual artists presenting amateur works of painting, story, dance, and song in a succession of impassioned brief segments, but for the heart we fill to bursting our little gothic chapel with the warmth and taste of each soul’s own Heavenly home. I’d do it monthly if I could - indeed for the first three years it was a triannual event - it is so my idea of church. Sharing visions of the Source!
But this was not the first time I’d felt drawn to stewarding inspirational events. In college in the eighties, I tried being the social chairman for my fraternity. Highlight was the Sixties party, for which I drew ornate psychedelic posters and researched the best authentic heady music at local used record stores. In the mid-nineties, I attempted a world music rave event at my own apartment, for which I planned and built for weeks. I cleared all furnishings into the basement so that K-ral’s Ravelations could feature a dance room with chaser lights and video clips from the greatest otherworldly movies (the deep sea fairy of Abyss, creatures from the Neverending Story), an art room with papered walls and endless crayons, and a kitchen with simmering pots of herbal high teas. Signs welcomed mystified friends and coworkers in two dozen languages – this is when I learned the phrase I so love “Isten Hozott”, Hungarian for “God brought you”.
The energies I opened at my one-night rave event continued to grow within me, so it was at the same apartment over the next two years that I wrote new music, essays, and poetry that culminated in my own shattering revelation that I’d been a 12th century mystic German abbess. Concurrent with this ecstasy was my discovery of Hammond castle in Gloucester, a place to which I’d been intuitively recommended since college by a Germanic girlfriend and travelling companion, but never felt ready to go. When I finally crossed the threshold of this 1930 recreation of a medieval fantasy built from authentic parts by a genius eccentric inventor, I was struck by déjà vu beyond compare. I knew rooms before I entered them, felt totally at home despite the creepy atmosphere that puts off many people, and entertained the grand notion that I must have been not only Hildegard but also John Hayes Hammond Jr., father of radio control and second in number of patents only to Thomas Edison. I’d been through wanna-be inventor phases in my life, and he was known for befriending philosophers and artists within strange creatively staged parties. Hammond so fancied himself a religious hermit underneath it all that he’d sit late at night in monk’s robes in a stone corner of his castle reading obscure texts, so a past life like mine seemed assured. Indeed it would take years to solve the mystery – Hammond is a guide to me as I am to him, and was the monk Volmar, Hildegard’s own trusted scribe. Fortunately at the time, just as I was becoming obsessed for wanting to stage Heaven houses at John’s historic gothic structure, I became more pragmatically invited to hold events at the similarly atmospheric Swedenborg Chapel in Cambridge.
My guide and alter-ego for the Mystical Art and Talent Show continues to be Hildegard, of course. For years I’ve said nothing, but increasingly dropped hints and witnessed the synchronicities, such as the display by one artist a couple years ago of candles marked with words from Hildegard’s secret sacred language, the Lingua Ignota. That bit of inspiration was contributed by a linguist friend with whom I’d talked about Hildegard only a little, before he had dreams of singing with her and knowing that he had to think of something to contribute to the show. Several of the artists were in fact with Hildegard, so I’m happy to just feel the tremendous vibes and remain fairly incognito. A lot of my own dreams have come true, and more will come I know. In 1998 I was too busy experiencing my own inner dimensions to research Hildegard’s historical facts very much, but I soon came across a recording of her Ordo Virtutum that resonated unbelievably.
The “Order of the Virtues” was Hildegard’s most modern and visionary spectacle for which she is quite famous – some would call it the first opera. In a kind of medieval sung morality play, the heavenly angelic virtues personified call to a lost soul in the world, competing with the devil in hopes to guide her home to heaven and God. The singing is quite beautiful, soaring busy melodies as is characteristic of Hildegard’s composing, with the one symbolic exception that the devil only shouts, for he is incapable of harmony with all that is divine. It is believed – and I’ve come to understand this on many levels – that the Ordo Virtutum was written to call a beloved nun of Hildegard’s order back who’d left for another abbey appointment, a temptation that Hildegard considered wrong. As the only man allowed in the abbey, Volmar good naturedly played the part of the devil in any performances of the work, which were private and failed to entice Richardis back before she tragically died. In 1998 however, I could only begin to feel that the opera was calling me home to Hildegard, and so took out the domain name and began a website for which I could write inspirationally to fan my inner flame of the prosaic eternal mystic I was destined to become and always be.
Halloween comes at harvest time and is short for “All Hallows Evening”, meaning the evening before All Hallows, aka All Saints Day, which is itself a religious feast celebrated on November 1 in Western Christianity and in June after Pentecost in Eastern Christianity. Halloween thus has both pagan and Christian roots which interleave rather neatly. On the pagan side, the Celtic festival of Samhain celebrates the summer’s end and the eerie magic of a seasonal transition, considered to be a time when the veil between worlds is thin. Not unlike Day of the Dead rituals as seen in Mexico, Samhain features the invitation of good ancestral spirits and fairies while remaining wary of mischievous ones who may be seeking one last chance to do harm before returning to the other side. Hence the tradition of costumes helps to disguise identities from ego forces, as well as entertaining those from whom donations are sought for feasting (trick or treat). On the Christian side, soul cakes were baked and collected since the 12th century in a ritual of prayer for the souls in purgatory, and costumes would have given similar protection from any evil spirits. Halloween did not take hold in the United States however until the Scottish and Irish waves of immigration in the 1800’s, since the Puritans abhorred the tradition going back to the 1600’s Reformation in England. In America is where the carving of native pumpkins became popular, since they were larger and easier to hollow than the turnips used traditionally in Europe.
While disliking the horror emphasis of modern Halloween, I can still enjoy and see the soul intent of disguising at a time of crossing worlds. The reason most people do not or cannot recall their own past lives is so they can focus on the present ego and how best to shape and polish it toward a more Godly state within a current moral system. Only when a consciousness is ready to embrace an eternal divine role beyond the illusions of free will (since when did choice mean being able to do anything at any time without responsibility!?) may the human mind begin to glimpse it’s longer journey of identity through the halls of time. The Ordo Virtutum is a cornerstone of my soul to me, and has been with me in more than one disguise. This week I was strolling through my ipod’s vast portable music collection (oh, the technology!) and came across a college era favorite, a personal anthem I brought back from my travels in Germany. I burst into weeping to recognize the resonance to Hildegard’s opera that explained why I so unknowingly loved this great classic curiosity of Euro pop and Neue Deutsche Welle (German New Wave). Germans and Austrians will know it well but Americans will not, so as my own trick or treat offering, I’d like to share this with you now.
In 1983, the unlikely alliance of two male Austrian comedians and two female German singers combined forces to make a bizarre catchy hybrid album whose top song defied all expectations to launch the band to a brief international fame. I was in Germany for the first time and just in time to hear “Codo” and weep inexplicably. Of course the title alone could remind my unconscious of “Ordo”, but the similarities do not stop there. I just knew I had to own the album and translate the lyrics, which fascinated me endlessly. A devil character shouts at the coming of a heavenly ship from another world, which carries angelic female voices who sing to the Earth reminding and inviting us to the ultimate joys of pure love.
Oh my God, this *is* the Ordo Virtutum, translated forward nearly nine centuries to the sounds of sweet German pop by a clever inventive band named Deutsch-Österreichisches Feingefühl (or DÖF for short, meaning German-Austrian Good Feelings)! No wonder I cried, and memorized and sang this song for years afterward, as I walked about Boston, MIT, and my hometown in New York state where I tried to convince my German ex-pat father that the words were unbelievably profound. He thought it was only cute of course – he wasn’t there with Hildegard.
Here now I share with you the charming youtube video of the eighties hit Codo, and my own translation of the words below. It’s clear to me that this is one of the great artifacts of Spirit in the world, when an inspired cultural oddity is paved to sudden and great success against all odds and expectations. Some things just have to be made, to bring in the energies upon which the future depends - I’m reminded of another example of love’s breaking into the world that inspired me so, the 2011 movie “The Adjustment Bureau” which I only this summer enjoyed (my own love life was changing, it was time for me). As DÖF band members Josei Prokopetz and Inga Humpe explained when asked the story behind their spectacle of a song:
Codo
by DÖF (translation Carl J. Schroeder, aka Hildegard von Bingen)
(narrator)
For two thousand years the Earth has lived without Love.
The men of hate rule.
(male leader speaks)
Hateful, I am so hateful,
so ghastly hateful,
I am hate.
Hating, so horribly hating,
I can't let anything be,
I am hate.
(control tower)
Attention, attention, Unknown flying object appoaching the planet!
Identify unknown flying object.
(woman sings)
Codo the third
from the star center,
I am the third from the left.
(control tower)
Unknown flying object identifies as Codo.
(woman sings)
And I jet, jet, jet, jet,
in such fast steps
and bring the love with me
from my heaven ship.
And the love, love, love, love
makes more fun
far more fun
than anything else.
(male leader speaks)
We do not need any love on this planet
Target Codo, destroy the love!
(control tower)
Target acquired Gamma Delta 7-3-1 overall
(woman sings)
Codo from far away
the brightest star
I jet so happily
past anything.
And I jet, jet, jet, jet,
in such fast steps
and bring the love with me
from my heaven ship.
And the love, love, love, love
makes more fun
far more fun
than anything else.
(control tower)
Object evades the hateful viewscreen!
(male leader speaks)
Corrosive
I am so corrosive
I subvert everything
I am hate.
(woman sings)
And I jet, jet, jet, jet,
in such fast steps
and bring the love with me
from my heaven ship.
And the love, love, love, love
makes more fun
far more fun
than anything else.
Codo
by DÖF (original German words to learn and sing along!)
(Manfred Tauchen:)
Seit 2000 Jahren lebt die Erde ohne Liebe
Es regiert der Herr des Hasses
(Joesi Prokopetz:)
hässlich, ich bin so hässlich
So gräßlich hässlich
Ich bin der Haß
Hassen, ganz hässlich hassen
Ich kann's nicht lassen
Ich bin der Haß
(Anete Humpe:)
Attention, attention
Unknown flying object appoaching the planet
(Manfred Tauchen:)
Identify unknown flying object
(Inga Humpe:)
Codo der Dritte
Aus der Sternenmitte
Bin ich der dritte von links
(Manfred Tauchen:)
Unknown flying object identified as Codo
(Inga Humpe:)
Und ich düse, düse, düse, düse
Im Sauseschritt
Und bring die Liebe mit
Von meinem Himmelritt
Denn die Liebe, Liebe, Liebe, Liebe
Die macht viel Spaß
Viel mehr Spaß
Als irgendwas
(Joesi Prokopetz:)
We do not need any love on this planet
Target Codo, vernichtet die Liebe
(Manfred Tauchen:)
Zielansprache Gamma Delta 7-3-1 Ãœberraum
(Inga Humpe:)
Codo aus der Ferne
Der leuchtenden Sterne
Ich düse gerne
Durch all
Und ich düse, düse, düse, düse
Im Sauseschritt
Und bring die Liebe mit
Von meinem Himmelritt
Denn die Liebe, Liebe, Liebe, Liebe
Die macht viel Spaß
Viel mehr Spaß
Als irgendwas
(Manfred Tauchen:)
Objekt überwindet den Haß-Schirm
(Joesi Prokopetz:)
ätzend
Ich bin so ätzend
Alles zersetzend
Ich bin der Haß
(Inga Humpe:)
Und ich düse, düse, düse, düse
Im Sauseschritt
Und bring die Liebe mit
Von meinem Himmelritt
Denn die Liebe, Liebe, Liebe, Liebe
Die macht viel Spaß
Viel mehr Spaß
Als irgendwas
As a child I loved to prop the sofa cushions and pillows into not just forts but corridors and chambers of spook houses filled in my mind with eerie delights. I fantasized and sketched for the construction of a haunted house ride in the backyard, perhaps all impossibly contained within the little woodshed that was filled with dusty logs and spiders. At the harvest time county fair I would eye the spook house attractions with great fascination, convincing my dad to take me through them until I decided that they were either too scary or too boring. Nothing would quite satisfy my own imagination. To my surprise, my mother picked up my spook house ambitions in my teenage years, some time after I’d moved on to other things like model railroading and girls. She actually convinced the Presbyterian church to let her convert the fellowship hall into a haunted house, sectioned by black plastic hung on wires into six tableaus of the strange and horrible. Local kids of all denominations thrilled to help her build and animate the sets and costumes, which were not so gory as fantastic, and certainly not like the relentless murderous trends seen in Halloween entertainment today. Still, I and some others questioned the church appropriateness of the popular small-town extravaganza, which ran for several years.
Toward the end of my mother’s spook house run, we started hearing of the Hell House phenomenon, in which evangelicals would stage Halloween attractions in their own churches for a different kind of entertainment. There, biblical gore for deadly sins was piled on gratuitously to torment and terrify the haunted house visitor into fearing for their own upcoming damnation and converting to Jesus (or some church’s version of Him) before the night was over. That marked the end for me of any fright appeal. From that point on I started to fantasize of Heaven houses, complete with inspirational tableaus of angels, fairies, and holy ghosts, within the magnificent homes and lands they surely populated. Rainbow glens, crystal cities, talking forests, dancing lights. I felt certain this would be the seasonal entertainment of the future, and I know now that the annual Mystical Art and Talent Show I’ve run every October since 2001 at the Swedenborg Chapel in Cambridge carries this torch. To the naked eye there may appear but local spiritual artists presenting amateur works of painting, story, dance, and song in a succession of impassioned brief segments, but for the heart we fill to bursting our little gothic chapel with the warmth and taste of each soul’s own Heavenly home. I’d do it monthly if I could - indeed for the first three years it was a triannual event - it is so my idea of church. Sharing visions of the Source!
But this was not the first time I’d felt drawn to stewarding inspirational events. In college in the eighties, I tried being the social chairman for my fraternity. Highlight was the Sixties party, for which I drew ornate psychedelic posters and researched the best authentic heady music at local used record stores. In the mid-nineties, I attempted a world music rave event at my own apartment, for which I planned and built for weeks. I cleared all furnishings into the basement so that K-ral’s Ravelations could feature a dance room with chaser lights and video clips from the greatest otherworldly movies (the deep sea fairy of Abyss, creatures from the Neverending Story), an art room with papered walls and endless crayons, and a kitchen with simmering pots of herbal high teas. Signs welcomed mystified friends and coworkers in two dozen languages – this is when I learned the phrase I so love “Isten Hozott”, Hungarian for “God brought you”.
The energies I opened at my one-night rave event continued to grow within me, so it was at the same apartment over the next two years that I wrote new music, essays, and poetry that culminated in my own shattering revelation that I’d been a 12th century mystic German abbess. Concurrent with this ecstasy was my discovery of Hammond castle in Gloucester, a place to which I’d been intuitively recommended since college by a Germanic girlfriend and travelling companion, but never felt ready to go. When I finally crossed the threshold of this 1930 recreation of a medieval fantasy built from authentic parts by a genius eccentric inventor, I was struck by déjà vu beyond compare. I knew rooms before I entered them, felt totally at home despite the creepy atmosphere that puts off many people, and entertained the grand notion that I must have been not only Hildegard but also John Hayes Hammond Jr., father of radio control and second in number of patents only to Thomas Edison. I’d been through wanna-be inventor phases in my life, and he was known for befriending philosophers and artists within strange creatively staged parties. Hammond so fancied himself a religious hermit underneath it all that he’d sit late at night in monk’s robes in a stone corner of his castle reading obscure texts, so a past life like mine seemed assured. Indeed it would take years to solve the mystery – Hammond is a guide to me as I am to him, and was the monk Volmar, Hildegard’s own trusted scribe. Fortunately at the time, just as I was becoming obsessed for wanting to stage Heaven houses at John’s historic gothic structure, I became more pragmatically invited to hold events at the similarly atmospheric Swedenborg Chapel in Cambridge.
My guide and alter-ego for the Mystical Art and Talent Show continues to be Hildegard, of course. For years I’ve said nothing, but increasingly dropped hints and witnessed the synchronicities, such as the display by one artist a couple years ago of candles marked with words from Hildegard’s secret sacred language, the Lingua Ignota. That bit of inspiration was contributed by a linguist friend with whom I’d talked about Hildegard only a little, before he had dreams of singing with her and knowing that he had to think of something to contribute to the show. Several of the artists were in fact with Hildegard, so I’m happy to just feel the tremendous vibes and remain fairly incognito. A lot of my own dreams have come true, and more will come I know. In 1998 I was too busy experiencing my own inner dimensions to research Hildegard’s historical facts very much, but I soon came across a recording of her Ordo Virtutum that resonated unbelievably.
The “Order of the Virtues” was Hildegard’s most modern and visionary spectacle for which she is quite famous – some would call it the first opera. In a kind of medieval sung morality play, the heavenly angelic virtues personified call to a lost soul in the world, competing with the devil in hopes to guide her home to heaven and God. The singing is quite beautiful, soaring busy melodies as is characteristic of Hildegard’s composing, with the one symbolic exception that the devil only shouts, for he is incapable of harmony with all that is divine. It is believed – and I’ve come to understand this on many levels – that the Ordo Virtutum was written to call a beloved nun of Hildegard’s order back who’d left for another abbey appointment, a temptation that Hildegard considered wrong. As the only man allowed in the abbey, Volmar good naturedly played the part of the devil in any performances of the work, which were private and failed to entice Richardis back before she tragically died. In 1998 however, I could only begin to feel that the opera was calling me home to Hildegard, and so took out the domain name and began a website for which I could write inspirationally to fan my inner flame of the prosaic eternal mystic I was destined to become and always be.
Halloween comes at harvest time and is short for “All Hallows Evening”, meaning the evening before All Hallows, aka All Saints Day, which is itself a religious feast celebrated on November 1 in Western Christianity and in June after Pentecost in Eastern Christianity. Halloween thus has both pagan and Christian roots which interleave rather neatly. On the pagan side, the Celtic festival of Samhain celebrates the summer’s end and the eerie magic of a seasonal transition, considered to be a time when the veil between worlds is thin. Not unlike Day of the Dead rituals as seen in Mexico, Samhain features the invitation of good ancestral spirits and fairies while remaining wary of mischievous ones who may be seeking one last chance to do harm before returning to the other side. Hence the tradition of costumes helps to disguise identities from ego forces, as well as entertaining those from whom donations are sought for feasting (trick or treat). On the Christian side, soul cakes were baked and collected since the 12th century in a ritual of prayer for the souls in purgatory, and costumes would have given similar protection from any evil spirits. Halloween did not take hold in the United States however until the Scottish and Irish waves of immigration in the 1800’s, since the Puritans abhorred the tradition going back to the 1600’s Reformation in England. In America is where the carving of native pumpkins became popular, since they were larger and easier to hollow than the turnips used traditionally in Europe.
While disliking the horror emphasis of modern Halloween, I can still enjoy and see the soul intent of disguising at a time of crossing worlds. The reason most people do not or cannot recall their own past lives is so they can focus on the present ego and how best to shape and polish it toward a more Godly state within a current moral system. Only when a consciousness is ready to embrace an eternal divine role beyond the illusions of free will (since when did choice mean being able to do anything at any time without responsibility!?) may the human mind begin to glimpse it’s longer journey of identity through the halls of time. The Ordo Virtutum is a cornerstone of my soul to me, and has been with me in more than one disguise. This week I was strolling through my ipod’s vast portable music collection (oh, the technology!) and came across a college era favorite, a personal anthem I brought back from my travels in Germany. I burst into weeping to recognize the resonance to Hildegard’s opera that explained why I so unknowingly loved this great classic curiosity of Euro pop and Neue Deutsche Welle (German New Wave). Germans and Austrians will know it well but Americans will not, so as my own trick or treat offering, I’d like to share this with you now.
In 1983, the unlikely alliance of two male Austrian comedians and two female German singers combined forces to make a bizarre catchy hybrid album whose top song defied all expectations to launch the band to a brief international fame. I was in Germany for the first time and just in time to hear “Codo” and weep inexplicably. Of course the title alone could remind my unconscious of “Ordo”, but the similarities do not stop there. I just knew I had to own the album and translate the lyrics, which fascinated me endlessly. A devil character shouts at the coming of a heavenly ship from another world, which carries angelic female voices who sing to the Earth reminding and inviting us to the ultimate joys of pure love.
Oh my God, this *is* the Ordo Virtutum, translated forward nearly nine centuries to the sounds of sweet German pop by a clever inventive band named Deutsch-Österreichisches Feingefühl (or DÖF for short, meaning German-Austrian Good Feelings)! No wonder I cried, and memorized and sang this song for years afterward, as I walked about Boston, MIT, and my hometown in New York state where I tried to convince my German ex-pat father that the words were unbelievably profound. He thought it was only cute of course – he wasn’t there with Hildegard.
Here now I share with you the charming youtube video of the eighties hit Codo, and my own translation of the words below. It’s clear to me that this is one of the great artifacts of Spirit in the world, when an inspired cultural oddity is paved to sudden and great success against all odds and expectations. Some things just have to be made, to bring in the energies upon which the future depends - I’m reminded of another example of love’s breaking into the world that inspired me so, the 2011 movie “The Adjustment Bureau” which I only this summer enjoyed (my own love life was changing, it was time for me). As DÖF band members Josei Prokopetz and Inga Humpe explained when asked the story behind their spectacle of a song:
Codo is an abbreviation for "Cosmic Dolm" or also "Cosmic Depp" (both meaning cosmic idiot). Codo was an extraterrestrial creature without a specific gender, which overcomes hate and brings everything that is missing to us stressed and negatively attuned human beings: a good mood, jokes, charm and above all love.If that is not the divine androgyne of the soul returning to uplift us all, I do not know what is! Thank you thank you, dearest DÖF! And Happy Halloween dear world, for God is here in you disguised, and sometimes made to shine!
Codo
by DÖF (translation Carl J. Schroeder, aka Hildegard von Bingen)
(narrator)
For two thousand years the Earth has lived without Love.
The men of hate rule.
(male leader speaks)
Hateful, I am so hateful,
so ghastly hateful,
I am hate.
Hating, so horribly hating,
I can't let anything be,
I am hate.
(control tower)
Attention, attention, Unknown flying object appoaching the planet!
Identify unknown flying object.
(woman sings)
Codo the third
from the star center,
I am the third from the left.
(control tower)
Unknown flying object identifies as Codo.
(woman sings)
And I jet, jet, jet, jet,
in such fast steps
and bring the love with me
from my heaven ship.
And the love, love, love, love
makes more fun
far more fun
than anything else.
(male leader speaks)
We do not need any love on this planet
Target Codo, destroy the love!
(control tower)
Target acquired Gamma Delta 7-3-1 overall
(woman sings)
Codo from far away
the brightest star
I jet so happily
past anything.
And I jet, jet, jet, jet,
in such fast steps
and bring the love with me
from my heaven ship.
And the love, love, love, love
makes more fun
far more fun
than anything else.
(control tower)
Object evades the hateful viewscreen!
(male leader speaks)
Corrosive
I am so corrosive
I subvert everything
I am hate.
(woman sings)
And I jet, jet, jet, jet,
in such fast steps
and bring the love with me
from my heaven ship.
And the love, love, love, love
makes more fun
far more fun
than anything else.
Codo
by DÖF (original German words to learn and sing along!)
(Manfred Tauchen:)
Seit 2000 Jahren lebt die Erde ohne Liebe
Es regiert der Herr des Hasses
(Joesi Prokopetz:)
hässlich, ich bin so hässlich
So gräßlich hässlich
Ich bin der Haß
Hassen, ganz hässlich hassen
Ich kann's nicht lassen
Ich bin der Haß
(Anete Humpe:)
Attention, attention
Unknown flying object appoaching the planet
(Manfred Tauchen:)
Identify unknown flying object
(Inga Humpe:)
Codo der Dritte
Aus der Sternenmitte
Bin ich der dritte von links
(Manfred Tauchen:)
Unknown flying object identified as Codo
(Inga Humpe:)
Und ich düse, düse, düse, düse
Im Sauseschritt
Und bring die Liebe mit
Von meinem Himmelritt
Denn die Liebe, Liebe, Liebe, Liebe
Die macht viel Spaß
Viel mehr Spaß
Als irgendwas
(Joesi Prokopetz:)
We do not need any love on this planet
Target Codo, vernichtet die Liebe
(Manfred Tauchen:)
Zielansprache Gamma Delta 7-3-1 Ãœberraum
(Inga Humpe:)
Codo aus der Ferne
Der leuchtenden Sterne
Ich düse gerne
Durch all
Und ich düse, düse, düse, düse
Im Sauseschritt
Und bring die Liebe mit
Von meinem Himmelritt
Denn die Liebe, Liebe, Liebe, Liebe
Die macht viel Spaß
Viel mehr Spaß
Als irgendwas
(Manfred Tauchen:)
Objekt überwindet den Haß-Schirm
(Joesi Prokopetz:)
ätzend
Ich bin so ätzend
Alles zersetzend
Ich bin der Haß
(Inga Humpe:)
Und ich düse, düse, düse, düse
Im Sauseschritt
Und bring die Liebe mit
Von meinem Himmelritt
Denn die Liebe, Liebe, Liebe, Liebe
Die macht viel Spaß
Viel mehr Spaß
Als irgendwas
Friday, September 7, 2012
Humor and Heaven
Humor is so interesting, because it can reveal deep things about our beliefs and the energies we're living beneath the polite surface of our civilization. Most theories of humor consider the taboo-breaking factor, that jokes pry themselves into our anxieties and relieve the tensions by various kinds of guilty wish-fulfillment. For example it can be clear that cruel jokes appeal to people who have judgments and want to punish someone, while sex jokes appeal to people who have been considering more sex and in more ways than they've been told is allowed.
Many jokes hinge their power upon punning. Puns can startle and delight us by safely highlighting the multiple meanings that we must ordinarily ignore to stay sane and productive, while in fact the unspoken interconnections of language impact us constantly and provide pathways to altered states. People of madness or genius alike will tend to show hyper-associative thinking which is rich in puns, neologisms, and other wordplay. Advancements in language are often made by such individuals, for whom words are tools and toys of the mind. Lewis Carroll for example coined the term "portmanteau" to mean words that combine in both sound and meaning, such as smoke + fog to make smog. A portmanteau is an old-fashioned double sided suitcase, so all the baggage of two words is being packed into one! Carroll was of course a master of the portmanteau and beyond, as seen in his unforgettably evocative and arguably insane poem Jabberwocky:
'Twas brillig and the slithy toves,
did gyre and gimble in the wabe.
All mimsy were borogoves,
and the mome raths outgrabe.
The portmanteaus here are so stretched that our minds reach for meanings that we cannot fully grasp, and so the alternate reality is both familiar and terribly alien. Something was brilliant and maybe fragile, slithering and slimy, but God help us after that! In fact, Humpty Dumpty explains to Alice in Through the Looking-Glass (1871) that "slithy" means "lithe and slimy" and "mimsy" is "flimsy and miserable".
I certainly loved puns and Jabberwocky in college as did many of my peers, and it would seem to me that language mash-ups fascinate the young adult mind which is struggling to break the old generation's hold on their thinking. As I've gotten older, I still like puns but not for punning's sake. I tend to favor absurd humor that exposes the conflicted biases of normal society and suggests entirely different ways of being.
For examples, I turn to the few jokes that I've been able to memorize. An unusual quality of jokes is that they can be hard for most of us to recite, we just remember the experience of surprise and laughter that we hoped to share. "I guess you had to be there!" Our embarrassment to put ourselves on the spot probably attests to the taboo-busting work that jokes accomplish, because our brains are normally excluding their outsider perspectives and thus resist easy memorization. So which jokes do stick with us almost certainly reveal the personal areas in which we are yearning to break free of old dogmas and reality conventions. Both of my following favorites are by Emo Philips, a bizarre idiot-savant kind of character who borders madness and genius with child-like perspectives informed by references to classic moral and philosophical problems:
"I used to think that the brain was the most wonderful organ in my body. Then I realized who was telling me this."
"When I was a kid I used to pray every night for a new bicycle. Then I realised that the Lord doesn't work that way so I stole one and asked Him to forgive me."
A part of me can't stop laughing at these! So the biases of the intellect and religion that are denying me pleasures of my whole body and getting what I ask for in life are of top importance to me. At the expense of political correctness, I'll admit to another zinger by Emo that I've been unable to forget or not find awfully funny. It too suggests a whole side of life that has been denied my knowing, with a sudden exposure of prejudice by punning that brings me satisfactions of both pain and delight:
"I'm from Downers Grove, Illinois. We had a blackout there the other day, but fortunately the police made him get back into his car before he got too far."
Yes, I was from a small rural white town, where basically just one token black family lived and was respected, so long as they contributed to positive stereotypes such as working hard in jobs of less authority and excelling at sports for the hometeam. But when the young man dated a white woman and they were clearly in love, the town became embarassingly split, with some families (not mine) suddenly showing raw hatred and fear. Fortunately my mother was a school teacher who pushed international culture awareness on her own children as well as her students, and I grew up fundamentally craving diversity as essential to divine inspiration and human wisdom.
Recently a joke came to me in a daily email humor list; there are many worth signing up for, because you never know by what synchronicities humor will augment your day's consciousness. This joke is a bit longer and simply revels in the kind of alternate idiot-savant thinking that I can celebrate, at least until the deeper cultural problem is considered. Note that I changed the nationality and gender of the person to be unimportant, since I have no humor interest in stereotyping some human beings as smarter than others. Technically, English doesn't have good gender neutral replacements for the singular third-person pronouns he and she, but I use they and them for this purpose regularly, and I expect it will become part of the language in the future.
The idea that one must pass a qualification to enter heaven is old indeed, and has been esoterically verified by those who see gatekeepers to hold standards of behavior for different spiritual planes. But where we belong in our hearts is where we must feel wanted, or else we suffer torments of a divided soul and temptations to judge others in defense, which will only make matters worse. The fox and the grapes: oh I didn't want to be there anyway! But the pain of deprivations continue, despite what the mind can rationalize.
Then I laughed, because the following resolution of the joke came to me, from some spiritual guidance that showed heaven's own brand of real humor and love. Enjoy! :)
** with special thanks and blessing to Richardis, through the ages and stages you've always known how to make me laugh ***
Many jokes hinge their power upon punning. Puns can startle and delight us by safely highlighting the multiple meanings that we must ordinarily ignore to stay sane and productive, while in fact the unspoken interconnections of language impact us constantly and provide pathways to altered states. People of madness or genius alike will tend to show hyper-associative thinking which is rich in puns, neologisms, and other wordplay. Advancements in language are often made by such individuals, for whom words are tools and toys of the mind. Lewis Carroll for example coined the term "portmanteau" to mean words that combine in both sound and meaning, such as smoke + fog to make smog. A portmanteau is an old-fashioned double sided suitcase, so all the baggage of two words is being packed into one! Carroll was of course a master of the portmanteau and beyond, as seen in his unforgettably evocative and arguably insane poem Jabberwocky:
'Twas brillig and the slithy toves,
did gyre and gimble in the wabe.
All mimsy were borogoves,
and the mome raths outgrabe.
The portmanteaus here are so stretched that our minds reach for meanings that we cannot fully grasp, and so the alternate reality is both familiar and terribly alien. Something was brilliant and maybe fragile, slithering and slimy, but God help us after that! In fact, Humpty Dumpty explains to Alice in Through the Looking-Glass (1871) that "slithy" means "lithe and slimy" and "mimsy" is "flimsy and miserable".
I certainly loved puns and Jabberwocky in college as did many of my peers, and it would seem to me that language mash-ups fascinate the young adult mind which is struggling to break the old generation's hold on their thinking. As I've gotten older, I still like puns but not for punning's sake. I tend to favor absurd humor that exposes the conflicted biases of normal society and suggests entirely different ways of being.
For examples, I turn to the few jokes that I've been able to memorize. An unusual quality of jokes is that they can be hard for most of us to recite, we just remember the experience of surprise and laughter that we hoped to share. "I guess you had to be there!" Our embarrassment to put ourselves on the spot probably attests to the taboo-busting work that jokes accomplish, because our brains are normally excluding their outsider perspectives and thus resist easy memorization. So which jokes do stick with us almost certainly reveal the personal areas in which we are yearning to break free of old dogmas and reality conventions. Both of my following favorites are by Emo Philips, a bizarre idiot-savant kind of character who borders madness and genius with child-like perspectives informed by references to classic moral and philosophical problems:
"I used to think that the brain was the most wonderful organ in my body. Then I realized who was telling me this."
"When I was a kid I used to pray every night for a new bicycle. Then I realised that the Lord doesn't work that way so I stole one and asked Him to forgive me."
A part of me can't stop laughing at these! So the biases of the intellect and religion that are denying me pleasures of my whole body and getting what I ask for in life are of top importance to me. At the expense of political correctness, I'll admit to another zinger by Emo that I've been unable to forget or not find awfully funny. It too suggests a whole side of life that has been denied my knowing, with a sudden exposure of prejudice by punning that brings me satisfactions of both pain and delight:
"I'm from Downers Grove, Illinois. We had a blackout there the other day, but fortunately the police made him get back into his car before he got too far."
Yes, I was from a small rural white town, where basically just one token black family lived and was respected, so long as they contributed to positive stereotypes such as working hard in jobs of less authority and excelling at sports for the hometeam. But when the young man dated a white woman and they were clearly in love, the town became embarassingly split, with some families (not mine) suddenly showing raw hatred and fear. Fortunately my mother was a school teacher who pushed international culture awareness on her own children as well as her students, and I grew up fundamentally craving diversity as essential to divine inspiration and human wisdom.
Recently a joke came to me in a daily email humor list; there are many worth signing up for, because you never know by what synchronicities humor will augment your day's consciousness. This joke is a bit longer and simply revels in the kind of alternate idiot-savant thinking that I can celebrate, at least until the deeper cultural problem is considered. Note that I changed the nationality and gender of the person to be unimportant, since I have no humor interest in stereotyping some human beings as smarter than others. Technically, English doesn't have good gender neutral replacements for the singular third-person pronouns he and she, but I use they and them for this purpose regularly, and I expect it will become part of the language in the future.
A simple person died and went to heaven. When they got to the pearly gate Saint Peter told them that new rules were in effect due to the advances in education on earth. In order to gain admittance a prospective heavenly soul must answer three questions:Great stuff! And then the deeper anxiety that the joke wedges into bubbled to the surface in me. Oh God, I had a dream recently in which I saw a group of people that I was deeply drawn to be with, but when I went to join them I became so overcome with inadequacies that I had to run away in shame before I could even see their reaction to me. I awoke so upset and crying, that I had to do a meditation and visualize a different ending, in which I reached for someone's hand despite all my fears of rejection, and they grasped it and smiled at me. I have felt an opening to more love from that experience ever since.
1. Name two days of the week that begin with "T".
2. How many seconds are in a year?
3. What is God's first name?
The person thought for a few minutes and answered...
1. The two days of the week that begin with "T" are Today and Tomorrow.
2. There are 12 seconds in a year.
3. God has two first names, and they are Andy and Howard."
Saint Peter said, "OK, I'll buy the Today and Tomorrow, even though it's not the answer I expected, so your answer is correct.
But how did you get 12 seconds in a year, and why did you ever think that God's first name was either Andy or Howard?"
The person replied, "Well, January 2nd, February 2nd,March 2nd, etc...."
"OK, I give," said Saint Peter, "but what about the God's first name stuff?"
The person said, "Well, from the song....Andy walks with me, Andy talks with me, Andy tells me I am his own..., and the prayer...Our Father, who art in heaven, Howard be thy name...."
Saint Peter let them in without another word.
The idea that one must pass a qualification to enter heaven is old indeed, and has been esoterically verified by those who see gatekeepers to hold standards of behavior for different spiritual planes. But where we belong in our hearts is where we must feel wanted, or else we suffer torments of a divided soul and temptations to judge others in defense, which will only make matters worse. The fox and the grapes: oh I didn't want to be there anyway! But the pain of deprivations continue, despite what the mind can rationalize.
Then I laughed, because the following resolution of the joke came to me, from some spiritual guidance that showed heaven's own brand of real humor and love. Enjoy! :)
An honest person died and went to heaven. When they got to the pearly gate Saint Peter told them that new rules were in effect due to the advances in education on earth. In order to gain admittance a prospective heavenly soul must answer three questions:
1. Name two days of the week that begin with "T".
2. How many seconds are in a year?
3. What is God's first name?
The person thought for a few minutes and answered...
1. The two days of the week that begin with "T" are Tuesday and Thursday.
2. I might be able to calculate the number of seconds if you give me paper and pencil, but I don't know off the top of my head.
3. I'm sorry, I don't know what God's first name is.
The person started to turn away in despair, but Saint Peter stopped them with tears in his eyes.
"Thank you so much, you're absolutely correct in all of your answers! We never expected you to know anything to want to return to God, that's been a human quality that we've had to contend with up here as you people advance in your civilization. In heaven, you can learn anything you want after you let in how much we love you just for being, and especially how much we celebrate when you come to us for a place to belong. I only had to ask questions because you expected me to, and the only answer I'm not allowed to accept is a false one made to impress, because then the real you isn't really here."
The person had a hard time absorbing this, but tried, and still had to ask.
"So, what is God's first name?"
Saint Peter laughed. "Potentially that's the easiest question of all! How many days start with T depends on your language, of course. How many seconds are in a year depends on the difference between your calendar and the true solar year, which is hard even for astronomers to measure and can change over time. But God, well God has many names, and your favorite one someday will be your own."
The person might have backed away in some shame of doubts at this, but such a light of heavenly friends came out to greet them that they were enfolded in love and escorted Home.
** with special thanks and blessing to Richardis, through the ages and stages you've always known how to make me laugh ***
Thursday, August 16, 2012
Three Paths of Love
From recent guidance and inspiration comes the following meetup description for my cosmic discussions group, for details see www.CosmicDocent.com
The Three Paths of Love: Sacrifice, Healing, and Endless Joy
Tuesday, August 28, 2012
7:00 PM to 9:00 PM
Cambridge Swedenborg Chapel
50 Quincy St, Cambridge, MA
As I've learned to clear my karma with the ascension energies of 2012 and beyond, I've come to see clearly how there are three paths of love that people follow in life. All human beings seek to love and be loved, as a protecting and promoting of our deepest values which begin in the spirit and reach for the soul. What has to be explained in the world is how varied are people's experiences of love. Anything is possible, from misery in persecution, alienation, and lonliness, through public success with private ups and downs that weary us over time, to the most blessed and refreshing of lifelong growth in all the kinds of relationships possible, from work to family, from friendships to spiritual ecstasies including of course with the self.
Everyone deserves love, because all people deserve a chance to be free and happy. The true universe always forgives and celebrates; God never judges or punishes however much our human societies may. We are told over and over that we create our own realities, but what does that really mean? It means that we each hold a mixture of beliefs that filter our views on life, so some possibilities seem much more real and closer to us than others. Some beliefs are small, like which TV show can make me happiest, others more consequential, like will I ever be totally free, happy and safe in this world. We do ourselves the greatest favors when we seek out beliefs about potential itself, for understandings that explain not only where we are, but where we have been and where we can be going. I find that the Three Paths is such a belief, by explaining how it is that all people look for love, but some people are recognizing and allowing much more love into their lives than others.
The three paths are progressive, and so lead into the next. The Path of Sacrifice is about holding many beliefs of opposition, so that you always have to be making either-or choices in life. Good things have to be sacrificed to save other good things, you can't have it all. In sincere defense of themselves or their tribe, people can allow terrible things to happen to someone, thinking that there is no alternative. On the path of sacrifice, people are deep down good, but evil is allowed to arise, and people can be corrupted and lost. The path of sacrifice is a hard one indeed, and we all have known it too long.
At some point on the Path of Sacrifice, a person hits rock bottom and says that's it, enough is enough. I'm tired of sacrificing myself for others in some situations, and sacrificing others for me the rest of the time. I'm going to have to insist on people taking more responsibility for themselves, while I stop trying to rescue or be rescued. I'm going to hold compassion and care to do what I reasonably can, but I'm going to take care of myself first and foremost without hurting anyone else or letting people hurt me. And that's going to be a good thing by golly, I will not hold onto guilt or depression for who I am, because if everyone did more of this then the world would surely be a much better place. I'm going to stop judging others, and I refuse to accept judgments on me.
Attitudes like these reveal when we have shifted to the Path of Healing, which is characterized by a kind of sacrifice still, but the helpful kind, of letting go bad ideas for good, useless context for useful. Limiting either-or beliefs are converted to liberating empowerment for all, personal not absolute values are weighed, all things have their season. Karma is revisited for the last time, old wounds are getting cleaned out. Many spiritual people are on the path of healing and have been for a very long time. There are many tears to be shed, buried pain to be surfaced and faced, and much letting go to be mastered.
It's like being in bed convalescing, feeling sick but a little better each day, dreaming of running free again but not sure when that will be possible. It's not easy, and can be quite the emotional roller coaster, as yet one more issue comes up in our way just when we think we have it made. Many short-term opportunities and relationships are explored, as people find cause to rejoice and hope, then release more heartbreak as they grow out of as yet another "contract" or agreement to exchange a service that won't be needed forever. Sadly, some people think that the bittersweet easy-come-easy-go life is as good as it gets, as they uphold their spiritual gains and deny a deeper sense of human frustration and deprivation to be never quite as deeply successful or securely happy as they can fantasize.
Fortunately, the Path of Healing is not forever, although again a shift of beliefs is required to move on when we are ready. At some point, enough of our inner world has been healed, so that our self-love is stable and confident to keep us feeling centered and loved in every situation, self-guaranteed. What happens then is nothing short of a miracle, one that I am still discovering. New kinds of relationships start to arrive, ones that we have never seen before. A level of Spirit and the community of souls is always rock-solid there for us, increasingly manifesting with growth opportunities that never end, assignments that are open and flexible, unlimited connections that are not just temporary. Karma becomes dharma, the flow of the universe. Relationships develop that we always grow more into and never out of, and why not? At this point we have mastered the art of always being there for ourselves, so of course now there can be friends and beloveds who are always there for us too.
Welcome to the Path of Endless Joy! It is something you know in your heart is possible. It is the pearl of great price, it is the rock upon which the house of the soul is built. We will thus discuss our glimpses and steps to go from here to there, as there is where we are all destined to.
The meeting will be from 7 pm until 9 pm. RSVP requested. Please update your RSVP if you are unable to attend, to allow others to attend. Payment is $10 to help rent the space, and can be made in person. Anyone who cannot afford this is encouraged to attend anyway and should contact Carl beforehand.
For directions and other information about location please visit the http://www.swedenborgchapel.com Cambridge Swedenborg Chapel website. If you're driving in be sure to pack tightly into the little lot on the side which can fit about 8 cars, otherwise expect to look for parking such as down Kirkland to the left and away from Harvard, at the next big cross street with Beacon there are some meters.
The Three Paths of Love: Sacrifice, Healing, and Endless Joy
Tuesday, August 28, 2012
7:00 PM to 9:00 PM
Cambridge Swedenborg Chapel
50 Quincy St, Cambridge, MA
As I've learned to clear my karma with the ascension energies of 2012 and beyond, I've come to see clearly how there are three paths of love that people follow in life. All human beings seek to love and be loved, as a protecting and promoting of our deepest values which begin in the spirit and reach for the soul. What has to be explained in the world is how varied are people's experiences of love. Anything is possible, from misery in persecution, alienation, and lonliness, through public success with private ups and downs that weary us over time, to the most blessed and refreshing of lifelong growth in all the kinds of relationships possible, from work to family, from friendships to spiritual ecstasies including of course with the self.
Everyone deserves love, because all people deserve a chance to be free and happy. The true universe always forgives and celebrates; God never judges or punishes however much our human societies may. We are told over and over that we create our own realities, but what does that really mean? It means that we each hold a mixture of beliefs that filter our views on life, so some possibilities seem much more real and closer to us than others. Some beliefs are small, like which TV show can make me happiest, others more consequential, like will I ever be totally free, happy and safe in this world. We do ourselves the greatest favors when we seek out beliefs about potential itself, for understandings that explain not only where we are, but where we have been and where we can be going. I find that the Three Paths is such a belief, by explaining how it is that all people look for love, but some people are recognizing and allowing much more love into their lives than others.
The three paths are progressive, and so lead into the next. The Path of Sacrifice is about holding many beliefs of opposition, so that you always have to be making either-or choices in life. Good things have to be sacrificed to save other good things, you can't have it all. In sincere defense of themselves or their tribe, people can allow terrible things to happen to someone, thinking that there is no alternative. On the path of sacrifice, people are deep down good, but evil is allowed to arise, and people can be corrupted and lost. The path of sacrifice is a hard one indeed, and we all have known it too long.
At some point on the Path of Sacrifice, a person hits rock bottom and says that's it, enough is enough. I'm tired of sacrificing myself for others in some situations, and sacrificing others for me the rest of the time. I'm going to have to insist on people taking more responsibility for themselves, while I stop trying to rescue or be rescued. I'm going to hold compassion and care to do what I reasonably can, but I'm going to take care of myself first and foremost without hurting anyone else or letting people hurt me. And that's going to be a good thing by golly, I will not hold onto guilt or depression for who I am, because if everyone did more of this then the world would surely be a much better place. I'm going to stop judging others, and I refuse to accept judgments on me.
Attitudes like these reveal when we have shifted to the Path of Healing, which is characterized by a kind of sacrifice still, but the helpful kind, of letting go bad ideas for good, useless context for useful. Limiting either-or beliefs are converted to liberating empowerment for all, personal not absolute values are weighed, all things have their season. Karma is revisited for the last time, old wounds are getting cleaned out. Many spiritual people are on the path of healing and have been for a very long time. There are many tears to be shed, buried pain to be surfaced and faced, and much letting go to be mastered.
It's like being in bed convalescing, feeling sick but a little better each day, dreaming of running free again but not sure when that will be possible. It's not easy, and can be quite the emotional roller coaster, as yet one more issue comes up in our way just when we think we have it made. Many short-term opportunities and relationships are explored, as people find cause to rejoice and hope, then release more heartbreak as they grow out of as yet another "contract" or agreement to exchange a service that won't be needed forever. Sadly, some people think that the bittersweet easy-come-easy-go life is as good as it gets, as they uphold their spiritual gains and deny a deeper sense of human frustration and deprivation to be never quite as deeply successful or securely happy as they can fantasize.
Fortunately, the Path of Healing is not forever, although again a shift of beliefs is required to move on when we are ready. At some point, enough of our inner world has been healed, so that our self-love is stable and confident to keep us feeling centered and loved in every situation, self-guaranteed. What happens then is nothing short of a miracle, one that I am still discovering. New kinds of relationships start to arrive, ones that we have never seen before. A level of Spirit and the community of souls is always rock-solid there for us, increasingly manifesting with growth opportunities that never end, assignments that are open and flexible, unlimited connections that are not just temporary. Karma becomes dharma, the flow of the universe. Relationships develop that we always grow more into and never out of, and why not? At this point we have mastered the art of always being there for ourselves, so of course now there can be friends and beloveds who are always there for us too.
Welcome to the Path of Endless Joy! It is something you know in your heart is possible. It is the pearl of great price, it is the rock upon which the house of the soul is built. We will thus discuss our glimpses and steps to go from here to there, as there is where we are all destined to.
The meeting will be from 7 pm until 9 pm. RSVP requested. Please update your RSVP if you are unable to attend, to allow others to attend. Payment is $10 to help rent the space, and can be made in person. Anyone who cannot afford this is encouraged to attend anyway and should contact Carl beforehand.
For directions and other information about location please visit the http://www.swedenborgchapel.com Cambridge Swedenborg Chapel website. If you're driving in be sure to pack tightly into the little lot on the side which can fit about 8 cars, otherwise expect to look for parking such as down Kirkland to the left and away from Harvard, at the next big cross street with Beacon there are some meters.
Tuesday, August 14, 2012
Letting go...
Someone posted on facebook that Joseph Campbell said "We must be willing to let go of the life we planned so as to have the life that is waiting for us."
My spontaneous comment was:
... I will admit to feeling reactive on this, obviously there are things I'm working on. I'm trying to find the right co-creative balance with the universe, since I believe all that happens comes from partnership. People who say I surrender, God's will be done, miss the point that God is waiting for us to decide what we want to try. Such people will get samples of possibilities based on other people deciding for them, and probably have a compromised life. Likewise, people who say I want whatever I say right now miss the other point, that there is balance and cooperation for deeper lessons of self-discovery. Even though the universe says yes to every choice, there are steps it gives to transform us there. And thank goodness for that, because those steps give us time to evaluate, to refine or adjust our choices as we learn deeper things about ourselves, our values, and real destined talents. Ultimately, the universe wants and needs us to be authentically joyfully contributing from our souls, that's why it has some input on the life that is "waiting for us".
My spontaneous comment was:
I would say it's not so much about letting go what we want, as letting go the idea that we aren't already on our way to getting it. It's the insistent disappointment and fear that we won't ever have what we want that blocks us from working with what we have now to fully reach it. It's like if there are 10 steps to getting what we want, and the universe says yes here is step 1, we're refusing to take that step if we don't see the connection and just say no, I should already be done by now. The universe is saying it's fine, the future you has it, feel it, become. A part of you is there and that's how you desire it, the rest of you is here and moving closer to conscious experience, so let's close the gap with another lesson. The only reason "letting go" ever works is if that helps us get into the moment to receive love and take the next steps naturally, until the universe says surprise, you made it! Letting go doesn't work and causes more pain if a person hears it as saying give up, stop desiring. Desire is always needed to manifest anything.
... I will admit to feeling reactive on this, obviously there are things I'm working on. I'm trying to find the right co-creative balance with the universe, since I believe all that happens comes from partnership. People who say I surrender, God's will be done, miss the point that God is waiting for us to decide what we want to try. Such people will get samples of possibilities based on other people deciding for them, and probably have a compromised life. Likewise, people who say I want whatever I say right now miss the other point, that there is balance and cooperation for deeper lessons of self-discovery. Even though the universe says yes to every choice, there are steps it gives to transform us there. And thank goodness for that, because those steps give us time to evaluate, to refine or adjust our choices as we learn deeper things about ourselves, our values, and real destined talents. Ultimately, the universe wants and needs us to be authentically joyfully contributing from our souls, that's why it has some input on the life that is "waiting for us".
Sunday, August 12, 2012
Horatio Algernon
Ok, I'm going to try for a meme pun: "Yes, it was just another Horatio Algernon story, a sad tale of rags to riches to rags again." There, I said it, maybe now it will spread and leave me alone! :)
references: Horatio Alger is the American myth of rags to riches, that if one can make it by hard work then everyone should and can. Flowers for Algernon is the award-winning story of a retarded janitor named Charlie who is given an experimental operation to make him a genius; this was first tested on a mouse named Algernon. It works, and Charlie becomes superhuman, and miserable to finally understand all the unnecessary injustice in the world, starting from the teasing he used to get for being retarded which he once mistook for popularity. Then the process reverses, and Charlie is doubly miserable to become retarded again with only a confused memory that he was once more than he is now.
Publisher's didn't want the story at first, they all told the author to change it for a Horatio Alger ending where Charlie stays a genius, solves the world's problems, makes friends with everyone, marries the girl of his dreams and lives happily ever after - but the author refused, and now the book is a modern classic. I see it as a tragic parable of human spiritual progress. When you wake up to your soul you gain a genius that realizes the world didn't have to be this way, but you cannot change it alone, though you may well fantasize for a while. You must learn to mourn so deeply and profoundly that you finally find a way to rejoin the normal world with an abnormal half-remembered higher perspective and vision, fated to spend the rest of your life trying to make a difference against all the odds of an unenlightened system. The spiritual awakening is a one-way door: you can never forget, and yet still you must go back to the way you were. This is a serious thing that changes your life forever, kind of like taking the red pill or the blue pill as seen in the Matrix movie. That is why the spiritual experience cannot be pushed on people before they are ready, they will refuse and misunderstand your best of intentions from deeper defenses than they can comprehend.
To combine the Algernon parable with the American success myth of Horatio Alger, well, call me or my muse perverse, but maybe that's what America is really about, as we lead the New Age not to mention the economic cycles of boom and bust. We Americans thought (many still do) that we were going to raise the world's standard of living in our superior never-ending technologically driven prosperity, but instead by our ideals we have raised a tragic awareness of paradise lost that is bittersweet. I fundamentally believe and experience that the diversity and tolerance of this country - imperfect yes, but much greater and deeper than most other places on Earth - creates conditions for enlightment that are our true greatest asset. People come here to be free, to realize the American dream, and the soul is reborn in ways that no one could have foreseen.
God bless America, God bless the whole Earth, and God help an awakening humanity.
references: Horatio Alger is the American myth of rags to riches, that if one can make it by hard work then everyone should and can. Flowers for Algernon is the award-winning story of a retarded janitor named Charlie who is given an experimental operation to make him a genius; this was first tested on a mouse named Algernon. It works, and Charlie becomes superhuman, and miserable to finally understand all the unnecessary injustice in the world, starting from the teasing he used to get for being retarded which he once mistook for popularity. Then the process reverses, and Charlie is doubly miserable to become retarded again with only a confused memory that he was once more than he is now.
Publisher's didn't want the story at first, they all told the author to change it for a Horatio Alger ending where Charlie stays a genius, solves the world's problems, makes friends with everyone, marries the girl of his dreams and lives happily ever after - but the author refused, and now the book is a modern classic. I see it as a tragic parable of human spiritual progress. When you wake up to your soul you gain a genius that realizes the world didn't have to be this way, but you cannot change it alone, though you may well fantasize for a while. You must learn to mourn so deeply and profoundly that you finally find a way to rejoin the normal world with an abnormal half-remembered higher perspective and vision, fated to spend the rest of your life trying to make a difference against all the odds of an unenlightened system. The spiritual awakening is a one-way door: you can never forget, and yet still you must go back to the way you were. This is a serious thing that changes your life forever, kind of like taking the red pill or the blue pill as seen in the Matrix movie. That is why the spiritual experience cannot be pushed on people before they are ready, they will refuse and misunderstand your best of intentions from deeper defenses than they can comprehend.
To combine the Algernon parable with the American success myth of Horatio Alger, well, call me or my muse perverse, but maybe that's what America is really about, as we lead the New Age not to mention the economic cycles of boom and bust. We Americans thought (many still do) that we were going to raise the world's standard of living in our superior never-ending technologically driven prosperity, but instead by our ideals we have raised a tragic awareness of paradise lost that is bittersweet. I fundamentally believe and experience that the diversity and tolerance of this country - imperfect yes, but much greater and deeper than most other places on Earth - creates conditions for enlightment that are our true greatest asset. People come here to be free, to realize the American dream, and the soul is reborn in ways that no one could have foreseen.
God bless America, God bless the whole Earth, and God help an awakening humanity.
Monday, August 6, 2012
Noismism
... and now a little humor to lighten the Weltschmerz ...
No • Ism • Ism
A noismist believes that the world is comprised only of free agent individuals who are fully transparent to everyone but themselves. There are no movements, no schools, no ideologies. No groups, no isms, no families, no histories, no karmas. All of that stuff is totally fascinating and meaningful, and in the final analysis irrelevant. Just a bunch of invented and shared justifications for what a person really wants to do with you right now, and still you wouldn’t have guessed, it didn’t follow. If you approach people in this light, you won’t get fooled again. They’re just looking to behave as they’ve been wanting to, by building up the courage of a context and pretext in which to act with impunity. Direct sensing of intentions is the goal of the noismist.
“Excuse me, are you looking for someone to grow with and love? Are you looking for someone to blame and punish? Come on, you can admit it to me, if not to yourself. I won’t judge, I won’t tell. It’s just that I can’t believe anything you’ve said about yourself, because it fails to explain you. I’ve met people who have been through everything that you have, and they didn’t act like you at all. This is just the way you are, doing what you want, isn’t it? Sure it is, and if you don’t like it then change, but don’t shoot the messenger. Hey, stop that! Okay, I’m outta here!”
Public noismists tend to be short-lived. How many people are privately noismist remains unknown.
No • Ism • Ism
A noismist believes that the world is comprised only of free agent individuals who are fully transparent to everyone but themselves. There are no movements, no schools, no ideologies. No groups, no isms, no families, no histories, no karmas. All of that stuff is totally fascinating and meaningful, and in the final analysis irrelevant. Just a bunch of invented and shared justifications for what a person really wants to do with you right now, and still you wouldn’t have guessed, it didn’t follow. If you approach people in this light, you won’t get fooled again. They’re just looking to behave as they’ve been wanting to, by building up the courage of a context and pretext in which to act with impunity. Direct sensing of intentions is the goal of the noismist.
“Excuse me, are you looking for someone to grow with and love? Are you looking for someone to blame and punish? Come on, you can admit it to me, if not to yourself. I won’t judge, I won’t tell. It’s just that I can’t believe anything you’ve said about yourself, because it fails to explain you. I’ve met people who have been through everything that you have, and they didn’t act like you at all. This is just the way you are, doing what you want, isn’t it? Sure it is, and if you don’t like it then change, but don’t shoot the messenger. Hey, stop that! Okay, I’m outta here!”
Public noismists tend to be short-lived. How many people are privately noismist remains unknown.
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