Xmas lights, Xmas thoughts

It's December, and as I was walking up the hill toward my house my eye was caught by the xmas lights strung above the porch of my neighbors. And I thought isn’t it interesting how here as we approach the darkest time of the year we invoke light by festooning our houses and our trees with electric lights of color. As if we feel the need unconsciously to fight off the coming of the dark by generating our own light, and to ward off the coming of death, the death of the land, of the deciduous trees and plants, and the coldness of the dormant earth, by generating our own warmth and color and light and life.

And then seeing these simple homely xmas lights of my neighbors I felt that in fact the light that we are seeking, whose withdrawal we are countering with our little winter ritual, in fact comes from within us, within each of us as individuals, which is to say as distinct walking talking embodied nervous systems lit up with our own neural energy of sight and sense and thought.

We are the bringers of the light, not needing it from any source outside of us, it is we who bring it into the world and in some way it is our own inner light, and not some external source of illumination, that informs and reveals the entire panapoly of sense perceptions, the erotic and erratically unfathomable play of the world.

There is some idea like this in Indian cosmology and philosophy and physiology (which are only different sides of the same immense way of thought), that says that indriya, which is at the same time fire and light and our sense of sight, comes from within us, and it is our own fire essence that illuminates the world, allowing us to see. And in fact without our own inner fire, the sun itself would have no warmth or light for us.

So then I saw that our very nature is light and I thanked my senses and the whole world of sensory experience—for once, at least for one brief moment, not guarding myself against its vagaries and capacity to entrap and delude— but thanking my lucky stars that even in what seems to be darkness there is light and that that light is the energy of life that is always with us and always within us, and that we, each of us, bring it, like Prometheus bringing fire, to this world.

Merry Xmas!

Sayings Of Swami Silinanda

Through the grace of my guru, I discovered the path of forgetting: the maha-senileyana. Slowly, slowly, I am learning to forget everything. I am always trying to remember to forget. When I finally have forgotten even my own name and form, I will be home--but I won't recall the address.

When I met my guru, he gave me the divine mantra: "Om Tat What?" Drowning in the ceaseless river of holy repetition (japa), I have forgotten how to swim and left my bathing suit and sun tan lotion in the trunk of my car. I cannot even retrieve them anymore, for now I have also lost the keys.

Who is it that seeks divine forgetfulness? Who is asking? No thank you, I gave at the office.

"When you get to the bottom you go back to the top of the slide then you turn then you go for a ride." Who said that, what does it mean, and how does the rest of it go?

A Review Of "Enlightenment Blues" by Andre van der Braak

A reader's review I wrote on Amazon.com of Andre van der Braak's new book, "Enlightenment Blues," a memoir of his years with an American guru. Highly recommended! Enlightenment Blues by Andre van der Braak

One of the most dangerous trends in modern spirituality is the misguided submission to a supposedly enlightened authority's use and abuse, in the belief that this serves one's spiritual progress. This has been documented before but not by a long-term and intimate insider with the sensitivity, thoughtfulness and laudable balance of "Enlightenment Blues," a moving memoir of the author's years with American guru Andrew Cohen. The book is far from a stereotypical expose of a cult leader. If that was its intent, the author could have made hay of far worse documented examples of abuse of power than he experienced, which have occurred in the years since he left Cohen. (This reviewer, another disenchanted former student of Cohen's, has read and heard from other "survivors" more recent stories of levels of weirdness and cruelty far surpassing anything recounted in "Enlightenment Blues.") Instead, the author shows both the promise and the problems (both subtle and gross) of such a spiritual community, making it understandable how intelligent folks can be seduced to give their autonomy away in a harmful manner. What is more, the author, with heart-rending honesty and vulnerability, does not hide his own shortcomings and moments of weakness. Of course, some folks, like an earlier reviewer here, will always try to justify even the worst teachers with comparisons to legendary "tough love" givers like the 11th century Tibetan master Marpa the Translator. (Andrew Cohen has used this self-serving comparison about himself many times, and the earlier reviewer and former student here has apparently bought into it). But comparing Andrew Cohen to Marpa is like comparing George Bush to George Washington. Marpa's apparent cruelty to Milarepa was justified, in hindsight, by its result--Milarepa became one of the great saints of Tibet. Andrew has yet to produce anyone who can stand on his own as a teacher, far less an enlightened saint. Marpa's treatment of Milarepa was unique, and based on the fact that Milarepa had murdered scores of people before coming to Marpa. Andrew humiliates his students across the board for the slightest perceived transgressions. Finally, Marpa's tough treatment of Milarepa ended once he proved himself and was initiated into the teachings. Andrew's destructive wielding of power only really begins-and steadily worsens-once the student is firmly ensconced in the group. Teachers like Cohen (and their students), who attempt to justify their misdeeds by misleading comparisons to great teachers of the past, rely on seekers' superficial knowledge and grasp of religious history and dynamics. Anyone who reads Van der Braak's book stands to be inoculated against such error, both with regard to Cohen and to other self-appointed saviors.

No Things But In God

A great poet once said,
"No poetry but in things."
And I agreed,
But now I contradict myself.
And his words I purposely misread.
I want him to say,
“There is no God but in things.”
In mountains skipping.
In rivers raising.
In moon, sun and stars set in their places.
In moon, sun and stars vanishing without traces.
All are God’s faces.
No God but in things and
No things but in God,
Is what I want him to mean instead.

Poem For Snoozing Sage Woman

Whenever at night
I read you words of the Ancient Sage
You immediately fall asleep.

Chuang Tzu's words soar.
And you snore.

This used to bother me terribly.
Now I see it as the spontaneous unfolding
Of the Tao.
Tao into Tao—What mysterious virtue!
While the Sage instructs,
You dream without effort,
That you are a butterfly
Dreaming she is you.

For The Ginz Soon After His Demise

One more oldie, written shortly after Allen Ginsberg's death:

4/19/97 4:03 PM


FOR THE GINZ

You’ve been dead 2 weeks.
Tomorrow I’m taking my friend to your memorial.
She’s young and doesn’t know your poetry, didn’t know you.
I dug out Howl from the bookshelf
(those City Light pamphlets can get lost among the hardbacks)
And tried to rehearse a few poems to read to her later
So she’d have some feeling for who you were.
But every time I got two lines in—
Even in a funny one like America—
(didn’t even try sad heart-broke Sunflower Sutra)
My voice began to warble and I started to cry.

I saw you many times with crazy Trungpa.
Once I escorted you into a private interview with him.
You probably wouldn’t remember.
He and Corso called you “the Ginz”
After Trungpa died I thanked you,
Dharma brother,
For introducing me to Buddhism when I was adolescent,
You and Jack,
Through your books.
You were sweet and humble and said “That was our intent.”
A couple of years ago we spoke on the phone about enlightenment,
And you wondered out loud if anyone really was.
That made me sad.

But those peyote solidities you pointed out to me
Your top-hat poster in the 60’s
Williams, Blake and Whitman you taught me at Naropa
(I still have an edition of collected Whitman you signed, after all these years)
Strange now to think of you
In Amitabha’s Western Paradise!

About Prayer (for R. Yolles)

OK. Now that old business is out of the way--almost. Here's something I wrote for a friend who's a Rebbe:

"Prayer is a special feeling"
He once said to me.
But it took me years to see.
A special feeling,
Where want is need,
Then need is yearning,
Yearning desire
Desire is love
Love surrender
Surrender peace
Peace is all
And all and all and all
And all.

Hellbreaker Exclusive!! ---Enlightenment Is Dead!

Spiritual Enlightenment is dead. Haven’t you heard? It had a long life but it finally expired, leaving us a bit sad but mightily unburdened.

Enlightenment lived a long time. We are not sure just how long. Sources say it was born in the East somewhere around the time of Buddha or the Upanishads, some 2500 to 3000 years ago. When that other enlightenment—the one of Locke, Descartes and Newton—finally kicked the bucket in the 20th century (at only several hundred years of age), the old Enlightenment, our recently expired friend, waited respectfully for a short period of mourning, and then moved in to fill the gap.

Some mourn Enlightenment’s passing, but let’s face it. Enlightenment was in bad health for a long time. Finding itself defenseless and weakened by illness and disappointment, pretenders, toadies and sycophants misused it. Everyone dropped its name to buy themselves influence and fame. Some claimed they were its only friends, even though Enlightenment didn’t know them. They wrote bad checks on Enlightenment’s account, and enlightenment got a reputation it could never live down.

When Enlightenment withdrew, so that no one could find it, many produced an imposter and called it by the same name. When they would sit in front of the hopeful and talk about it, some would say Enlightenment was there. They would see a radiance and feel a presence, not knowing that that was not Enlightenment, but only the reflection of their own desire and expectation. Some would even say that the reflection of one’s own desire is Enlightenment, but Enlightenment would have none of it, and made itself scarce from such domains. When the radiance and the feeling would subside, folks would try to explain this in creative ways, but no one could really come up with an answer as to how Enlightenment, once there, could just disappear without a trace.

When Enlightenment heard of such goings on it just got sicker. Beset with a bad cough, misused, abandoned, misunderstood, and alone in its rented room, Enlightenment finally gave up the ghost. How sad.

Or is it sad? Enlightenment was a bit of a burden, after all. Fickle, promiscuous, yet haughty, you never knew who it would bestow its favors on. Some who worked so hard to be loved by it never had a visit. Others, who seemed as though they couldn’t care less, won its devotion. What kind of friend is that?

In the end we all felt that nothing we could do was good enough. Despite our best efforts, Enlightenment never came calling. We looked everywhere, but Enlightenment hid its face. We grew bored and listless with life as it was, yet our hope for Enlightenment was never fulfilled. We thought we saw it, but it was just a mirage. We came to suspect Enlightenment was a phony. Enlightenment was playing games with us! The game wasn’t fun. It spoiled our appetites and disturbed our sleep. If you ask me, Enlightenment got what it deserved, and we’re better off without it!

When God died, it took awhile for most folks to realize. He was absent so much of the time that his death almost went unnoticed. Our friend Nietzsche had the good taste to let us in on God’s demise, and to suggest that not only might this not be a cause for grief, but it should be an occasion for joy. With God dead, Life could live, unburdened by something that worried and detested it. But then Enlightenment came over, and, filling God’s shoes, gave Life a good kick! Now that Enlightenment has finally kicked its last and kicked the bucket, Life can breathe freely again.

Let’s not mourn Enlightenment’s passing, after all. Let us instead have a wake, with drink and dance, and song, and a jolly good time!

Warning--Life Delay!

Notice: Your Life Has Been Put On Indefinite Delay

We are sorry to inform you that you are not yet ready to start living. Consequently, your life has been indefinitely delayed.
In order to begin to enjoy and experience life, you must first work out your psychological conflicts and/or effect spiritual transformation.
To prepare to begin living and end your life delay, please choose some combination of the following strategies:
1. Obtain spiritual guidance from a recognized and certified guru or heirophant. Repeat as desired.
2. Study one or more life systems or philosophies, preferably imported, the more esoteric the better.
3. Repeat your mantra as much as possible.
4. Count your breaths daily.
5. Engage a (choose one or more) psycho/transpersonal/breathwork/bodywork therapist for optimal functionality and progress.
6. Engage in (choose one) couples therapy or tantric sex workshops.
7. Ingest exotic and difficult to obtain mind-altering substances, preferably those of questionable legality with purifying/purgative side-effects.
8. Resolve all psycho-physical conflicts in your body/mind organism.
9. Have multiple blissful/energetic/oceanic experiences of a seemingly profound and transformative nature.
10. When these experiences (see #9) do not result in profound transformation, repeat all above steps until complete and permanent satisfaction is reached, or you die, whichever comes first.

We apologize for any inconvenience your life delay may cause you.

Hello! I love ya!

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