Sunday, November 9, 2014

Keepin' it together forever . . . sanAtana dharma

Though sanAtana dharma is clearly to me key to the whole mystery,


clues and cues and parts of the puzzle are extant in every land and o'er every sea and play through the array of faiths and paradigms,
 
sometimes quite cleverly deployed in subtle symbolic and oft ironic hints

 


Shiva Linga and Omphalus



proffered by those who weave the webs that hold the show together and make it entertaining . . .








and worthwhile.
 



Claustrophobic !!!!

I came to consciousness in a sarcophagus, deep in the earth.  It was the deepest muggy musty dead space imaginable, claustrophobic far beyond the threshold of terror, tons of soil and rock or sand encompassing the cramped space, the darkness beyond the darkest of nights, though I almost feel as if I could see the rounded sides of the cavity in which my bones and flesh were encapsulated.  I went into a terrible panic, pressing my hands against the confines into which my (assumedly) mummified corpse was entombed, screaming for all my body could muster.  Finally at a peak of terror I departed my erstwhile body and began to transit up through the ground.  As I rose through the earth, the sarcophagus in which I was formerly freaking out appeared to be glowing.  I paused in my transit as I noted another glowing sarcophagus nearby, parallel and at a higher elevation than my overly cozy coffin.  I knew the person therein was my "sister." 



I continued on my transit, conveyed by some force I could not entirely direct, and rose above the surface.  On the horizon was a bright light that may have been over water, and otherwise the sky was dark.  Almost instantaneously I transited into this body laying in a crib, head toward the east, screaming for the terror of confined spaces, in the northwest bedroom of the house at 362 North Seventh Street in Laramie, Wyoming.

Of quite a number of anomalous and "supernatural" experiences that inform my rather mixed and juxtaposed identity, this first memory of this life is indeed intriguing if not telling as to who and what I might truly be.  Egyptian Pharaohs were usually entombed with wife, who was often the Pharaoh's sister.  I'm quite certain that the sister therein was not one of my biological sisters of this life, though I do believe I got to know that sister from another life in this life, and our time together was brief but sweet.  Some inkling and indications incline me to imagine that my seeming sister-wife from another life grew up in this life in the next town over, Cheyenne, Wyoming, though such indicators might be wrong or ruse.  Pharaohs and such were touted able to depart the tomb as a "ba" to experience other states (or lives?) after being properly entombed.  Shiva and Parvati were said to have been Brother and Sister in at least one incarnation . . .

I'm rather sure someone was in this body before (most of?) me showed up, several months after this body was born.  There is a rather small melanistic patch on my left side which could be indicative of cutaneous mosaicism, a potential indicator of tetragametic human chimerism, being one's own twin.  This condition is represented in the murti of Ardhanarishwara (androgen Shiva and Parvati) and the murti of Hari-Hara (Vishnu and Shiva sharing the same body).



I suppose I am publishing this as I've no reason to keep any such secreted--other than such contentions certainly open me to being called "flake" or delusional--and might be that such information granted the public might help to untangle certain twisted plots from which I myself cannot seeming entirely extract myself, and which by some signs and indicators bear importance to more than merely me . . .  Namaste

Tuesday, November 4, 2014

Surreptitious She Smiles

Surreptitious She smiles,
beguiling guiles
and so many guises.
Most often in Her eyes
She tells me She's there
in whatever woman's
glance or gaze,
though other (mostly) playful clues and cues
do betray Her presence too,
in this or that lovely devi
might pass me on the street
or sit nearby in a café or bar.

Sweetly She loves me,
when I am graced with Her intimacies shared,
Her kisses upon my lips,
round breasts against my chest
legs intertwined with mine,
and one in a way not unlike
when She and I were truly
Two that were One.


In every love song
are more than traces
of this our love.
Subtly or no the lyrics
are of our story true,
and every soul that is
both plays a part and sings along
and is that story too . . .