Month: November 2019

Beyond the Allurement of your Gods

~ Koyote the Blind ~ Leave a comment

I am a magician,

I am a brujo

I am a Nahual,

And I know.

I know the power that is here.

I know the power that was here.

The power that exists in the land,

in the mountains,

in the ocean,

in the depth of the starry sky.

I know the consciousness

that stares at us.

I know of the whisper of consciousness

when consciousness begins to dissolve

I know the silent voice of conscience

when I no longer hear myself.

I have dealings with things of power and beauty.

I am beyond the allurement

of your gods.

I am beyond the fears

mongered by your loud mouthed preachers

hiding behind the screens of your television sets.

I know what the people here used to know.

I have seen the beings of power

that have touched the consciousness of the human being.

Bringing knowledge, power, and love

generation after generation…

I know this so well that I do not resent

what your institutions and governments have done…

anymore.

I see the emptiness of your altars,

of your cold ivory hearts.

To you, the cathedral of Notre Dame is more important

than the Gulf of Mexico

and the mountain ranges of the Sierra Madre.

The pollution of the river, and burning of the Amazon forest

means nothing to you.

But your Parisian cathedral filled with Mexican gold-

that you want to save.

I don’t resent that.

I only see how empty your world is,

because you have not known the beauty and the power

that is the wilderness of this continent.

(Season Cole’s poetically curated notes from a lecture by Koyote the Blind.)

Hiding in Gratitudes.

~ Koyote the Blind ~ Leave a comment

My heart bursts with gratitude each day of my existence, for every moment, for every joy, for every foe who helps me test myself, for every friend who shares the road with me, for every tear that purifies the soul, and for the very path where no chair survives.

Tomorrow, I’ll say thank you again, as I do every day. And tomorrow I’ll welcome again every joy, every teaching, every tear, and every where.

But not tonight. Tonight, I’ll hide from the pilgrims and the violence of the saints.

The Sovereignty of your Being

~ Koyote the Blind ~ Leave a comment

Every person has the absolute right to exist as they are. To imply that you are superior to them is to completely miss the point that “Every man and every woman is a star”.

Every person is a sovereign soul, of divine right and sacred origin. The implication that they need to adopt your customs, beliefs or appearance betrays your failure to grasp the most essential of metaphysical realizations.

Every person has the rights inherent to being human. To restrict these rights of Liberty only to a certain race, gender, nationality, age, physical condition, identity, or culture is to attempt to deny these rights as such.

So, carve, think, write, create, live, love, celebrate, mourn, look,travel, learn, and worship as you will.

Exercise the sovereignty of your being.

Understand that as these are your inalienable rights, so are they for all sentient beings everywhere.

What Can Be Said when Silence Devours Each Word?

~ Koyote the Blind ~ Leave a comment

What can be said when silence devours each word?

What can be taught when an infinite unknown surrounds each moment?

What can be added to this moment of silence?

What can I prefer, when every thing is nothing but a horizon?

Emptiness pouring itself into nothing.

Light merging with darkness.

Darkness hiding behind the splendor.

Nothing is, nothing will be, and nothing ever was.

All witnessing is just the intersection of gentle, soft strings.

It’s just the interplay of word over vibration, creating the illusion of continuity; creating the sensation of tapestry and feel.

And in the intersection of light and dark, there by the Road’s End, the weaver weaves.

The hands create tales and sights untold: untruth, meaningless, fathomless, groundless.

And there by the Road’s End, where the ways intersect, you can almost hear the weird sound of the ticking and tapping of the Kindly Ladies; making, weaving your life; ending your life and all.

For all that begins, one day comes to an end.

There by the Road’s End in the intersection of paths.

The Immense Distances of Your Voice

~ Koyote the Blind ~ Leave a comment

And it is precisely at this moment that I see the silent shivering of the stars that have traversed not just the vast empty ocean, but also an immense ocean of time to be able to be here, as light and as silence, among sounds and shadows.

But I see more, infinitely more.

I see clearly that precisely like this you, my beloved, have emanated your silence and your light through the depths of the abyss of void so that my eyes might open, so that my ears can hear your silences, so that my mind might dissolve in the immense distances of the eternity of your voice.

I Fly with Your Song

~ Koyote the Blind ~ Leave a comment

I fly with your song of sea and crickets. I fly and kiss your face of clear and empty sky. My wings expand to the limits of that horizon where the shores of death timidly touch the gentle surf of the ancestral mystery, prehistoric and eternal, that rumbles and lies pregnant and asleep beyond the mind; dreaming with shores, valleys, and plains in conscious little worlds playing at existences and awakenings.

 

Fueling

~ Koyote the Blind ~ Leave a comment

Vuelo con tu canción de mar y grillos. Vuelo y beso tu rostro de cielo claro y vacío. Se expanden mis alas hasta los límites de aquel horizonte donde las playas de la muerte tocan tentativas el gentil oleaje del misterio ancestral, prehistórico y eterno, que retumba y yace preñado y dormido más allá de la mente, soñando playas, valles y llanos en pequeños mundos conscientes jugando a existencias y despertares.

 

Vuelo con Alas de Viento

~ Koyote the Blind ~ Leave a comment

Vuelo con alas de viento. Me elevan al firmamento cubiertas en plumas de luz. Se deslizan sobre el plateado resplandor de la conciencia vacía y sin fronteras, y así veo desde las alturas la cambiante y fluida creación del pensamiento y la experiencia.

Y así la creación misma, efímera y eterna a la vez, se presenta en su aparente extensión bajo mis alas de claridad solar.

Extiendo entonces mis alas, agarro altura, y me elevo aún más hasta que ya no tengo alas ni viento, pues soy el corazón del cielo, y mi rostro se extiende hasta el límite de la ilusión, cubriendo el espacio entre el mundo bajo el sol y el infinito vacío que sostiene al sol y las estrellas de donde todo surgió y donde todo se disolvió.