About Me

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I am a mystic madman, a wandering wildman, scholar of esoterica, dilettante sadhu, dready-headed hippie (only have a few jata on the back of my head right now, though more be forming of this third set of knotted hair), gentle yogi, fierce foe of falsity. I was a preacher, but I renounced that. I was married, but she renounced me. I was a grad student at one of the top universities in the world on my way to becoming a professor, but I realized they taught lies there too. I am protector of souls, lover of mountains, smoker of herb, fond of hot springs, oceans and lakes and rivers and rain and sunshine, devotee of Devi.

Hindu Gods and Goddesses

Monday, February 28, 2011

Life As a Big Crazy Dot-to-Dot Yantra

Seems as I journey round, zigzagging and going high and low, visiting municipalities and communities of this land, place takes significances and signification that surpass expectations of what means connections of names and memes and geographical geometries. In faces and mostly fond memories of people from places across the countryside and cityscape, I see means of Divine Mind revealing patterns of eternity, mostly playful revelations of how indeed we are al and each important parts to a puzzle intricate and sublime. Wordplays and cues proffer clues as to just what might mean this relationship or that, archetypally, geometrically writ and emplotted in geography both natural and of human artifice, synchronistically woven into rich tapestries making sense at scale both grand and diminutive.

As I ponder people and places where I chanced be blessed to make their respective acquaintance, seems emergent patterns of beauty have sometimes a dark-side reflection, too, is want to be acknowledged. Not necessarily something intrinsically evil nor need be a vision of malevolence. Rather better the tension of feigned opposition, like blows, scratches and pinching partner's flesh proscribed by kama sutra texts. More a veiled love dressed in ghoulish rags, dear friends feigning foe, more a negative space exploration than battle with demons.

Both in beauty and terrible form these plays play on, people portraying persons archetypal and eternal, showing thus at moments their own person true as is behind veils of convention and consensual pretense and so called consensus reality, past the self-imposed amnesia as to who and what we are, most true, gods and goddesses at play, and on a stage well set across the span of land and sea and sky, a quite epic story portrayed and to be read by those with open eye . . . something we all see, bye-and-bye, when the curtain call is made (long, long time from now, I ought to note).

namaste

Tuesday, February 22, 2011

Thank Bhairavi For the Under the Breath Death Metal Gutteral Growl !!!!!!!!!!!!!

Recently I have come to understand something of the energy of death metal. As I growl at phantom foes who seem to maintain some degree of real and verifiable external effect, and at those foes of healthy life and living, enemies of purity (not puritany, mind you), enemies of Rta shanti, I have found this growl, gutteral and terrible, surfacing in my already deep vocalizations. Angry as Hara, Rudra surfacing, no less, Bhairava ragin' to scare 'em straight or shatter their ill intentions and pretensions and impetus with sound vibration manifestation. Bhairav's Lord of the crematory grounds--pretty fuckin' death metal, no doubt. This growl's rather handy too, so I don't gotta shout whilst in public places as I sense ills and wrongs, nor randomly lash out at vile energies come at me, barrages of bullshit begging a response. I ain't no GD Buddha, I am one to fight when need be, blades and blood and beastly, yet I do have my dignity. Yes, the under my breath death metal growl channeling ancient or extra-terrestrail tongues as well as the usual Sanskrit mantras, manuevers of mind and suchlikes, allow me to be leastwise somewhat dignified as I deal with said foes. Didn't really intend to be playin' sadhu with blades flyin' on this intended business trip to sell rare fossils, world's smallest triceratops skull and all. Oh well, guess I gots the tools. Thank Bharavi for the under the breath death metal gutteral growl and all that

SHHHHHIIIIIIITTTTTTTTTT !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

RRRRRRRRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Monday, February 7, 2011

The Truly Noble Lie: Playing As If We're Not Already One With the Divine


Theatrical spectacular, mundane life coming alive, a Grand Show writ and played both great and small, on stages of renoun and of neighborhood everyday just the same. These archetypal cycles, natural patterns of playing life manifest time and again and both subtly and bold, as naturally we portray same old stories in so many variegated and nuanced ways. Heroes and villains, maidens distressin', nations stressin' over land and treasure and power, yet might often be the scarce noticed stories be the ones direct the flow of the broader production.

Drums and trumpets boom and blare, but generals and kings and rulers generally rarely know those battles fought which of truth determine the fate of nations, and which decide the state of things human and Divine. Might be a love story and its outcome tell whether life's a dream or living hell. Could be some series of events seem of no account counts as the balance against disaster, straw that breaks the camels back or thread holds it all together. The gods and goddesses (and even with big "G's") are like that, see, 'cuz they like a good show, and want for entertainment, just like you and me. This is lila, and that's what's it's really all about, so sit back and enjoy the show, or enjoy the part you play as best you might, resting assured that once the smoke clears and the dust settles, the curtains drawn and all, we are eternal, true and good, and One, Atman, brahman, human, and other critters too.