I am a woman without blood (Maria Sabina)

From Maria Sabina, the Blue Star of my heart:

“I am a woman without blood.

The Open Book steals my blood.

The bird steals my blood.

The water steals my blood.

The air steals my blood.

The flower steals my blood.”

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Killer Clown

A killer clown is on the move.

He’s got a taste of blood.

Didn’t know what else to do

Daddy never showed him

How a real man gets in the mood.

A killer clown is on the move.

He’s got a taste of blood.

His pretty daughter asked her due.

He couldn’t grab her by the pussy.

So he gifts her Muslim blood.

A killer clown is on the move.

He’s got a taste of blood.

Folks wouldn’t love him.

Everyone laughed at him.

Now he cries fire from above.

A killer clown is on the move.

He’s got a taste of blood.

–Koyote the Blind

First and Last in the Medicine Wheel

The first and last of the Major Arcana unify in the accomplishment of the Magnus Opus. The Fool and the World, the Aleph and the Tau, come together in the Medicine Wheel, just as the Aleph and the waters of Binah came together in the beginning.

Tau is the cross, the finite that intersects the levels. Aleph is the origin of all. The silence of the Aleph and the silence of Saturn are here united, just like the centripetal and centrifugal forces, though opposites, become one in the balance of the firmament.

The aim of philosophy

The endeavor of philosophy is to come to the end of thought, to be able to burst through the fogginess of mind into the silence––the nothingness. If we understand this, we would know that out of this silence, no question comes. The question is the result of a confrontation with the silence, with death. The question can be the result of fear, the mind attempting to cover the silence with chatter, or it can be an attempt to become awake in the silence. And if one knows this difference, truly, one can perhaps come to a liberation from the trap of the mind.

Stop the madness inside

Shame on those of us who perpetrate lies and misinformation against those who are already marginalized, oppressed, different, and feared.

It is disgustingly easy to propagate rumor and innuendo, dismissing the sad actuality of the lives of those who are persecuted.

When you contribute to the hate, by repeating thoughts and reasons to attack them, you are not really looking at them, but to your ego image, and what you think you are protecting is nothing but the false image of reality your thoughts are creating.

Stop the madness inside, and seek to the highest and truest values your silent self adheres to; and before you spread any sentiment against the poor, the immigrant, the minority, the oppressed, and the bereaved, search in silence those values that best reflect the nobility and sensitive intelligence in you.

When I found him

He was dressed in dark cloak, wearing a black hat.

He had eyes of a madman, and I knew that was the body I was going to take so that, one day, maybe I would know what he knew.

He took away all my gods, all my beliefs and convictions… in order to inhabit this body.

He began to drill his consciousness and Her presence through every nerve in my body, holding on to every gland, and making every second an eternity.

Undocumented immigrants pay taxes and do not get benefits.

There are so many lies being repeated about the benefits for undocumented immigrants. It is frankly ridiculous and ignorant. I have known that population and studied it for over ten years, and it is a big lie to say that they are receiving welfare, cash benefits, health care (yes, many do claim that they do), etc. The fact is that they pay billions in taxes, receive almost nothing (outside emergency services, for which they are billed every single time), and are among the most unjustly persecuted minorities in this country.

Broken is Beautiful Too

This brought to the light of memory what the war I came from broke: a heart, a memory, a home, a future, a peace, a silence, and a life. But it never broke my laugh, my love, or the revolutionary hope.

Drained Batteries

“Para de llorar, it’s just a plant.” My mom would say.

And she’s right, the pot fell and broke, and that’s that.

“We can glue it together,” I’d offer, refusing to throw the pieces away. “We can do something with this.” I wanted to save it, and I was sobbing because I knew this pot was older than I was. Just like how her sewing scissors were as old as her marriage, and how our vacuum could be my older brother.

It was worth something, broken or not, because she kept it for so long and it was her favorite.

She threw it away without a care and a normal kid would be glad they didn’t get in trouble for it. And I was– I never got in trouble for breaking things.

I punished myself enough with the guilt I felt, anyway. I’d be a wreck the whole day after.

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What the system has over you

This is an excerpt from a talk I gave at UCR on “what is a revolutionary?”:

“Forget about yourselves…it’s not about you…not about your education…not about your money…not about your wages…not about how hard it is to go to college. At the end of your lifetime, nothing that you have done, accumulated, published, is going to count; only what’s in your spirit. If at all.

It’s not about you. Change that orientation. The ‘me first’ attitude is the shackles that the system has over you. The fear of losing your lifestyle is what the system has over you.

If you have nothing to lose, what can you do? If you owe nothing to church or government, if you have no money to lose, if you don’t care about what car you drive, what kind of freedom can you have?

There has to be a deep surrender to your destiny, a deep knowledge of your personal freedom and an undying love for others. Without this, there is no real revolution. It’s just demagoguery and cheap talk…like this one.”