Privilege, you?

My, oh my!

How polite you sound when you tell me to tone it down, to not be divisive, or polarize.

Ooh! I love it when you show up all enlightened to explain that the spiritual path is to detach, to go inside, and not dirty your white mind with the mob’s concerns.

You make me tingle. Kundalini awakes! See how free you look, how happy and gentle your unconditional love for all puppies and saints.

I’m amazed at the way you misquote those dead holy men. Inspired! Awake!

Privileged? Who dared called you that? Don’t they know you transcend race, darkness, and class?

But don’t listen to them. Don’t let that word melt your visage. I’m sure they are stuck in old thinking, 3-D concerns. They’re probably sheep who follow the beat of the fake media who never wants peace.

Privilege, you? Forgive them. They do not know. The troubles and pains you’ve had to endure! How much it took to get you there, with all your certificates, travels, and mirth. You also had to struggle, I’m sure it’s the same.

Don’t worry. Detach. Disconnect for a while. Take a break from having to hear about race, oppression, and strife. It’s better for you, better for all. Stay gentle and pure. Smile, breathe, count your blessings and teach.

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Orange Agent’s Total Authority

No worries. This clown’s republican and libertarian supporters will now rise up in arms to defend the constitution, to stand up against a president ready to impose his law on what is constitutionally the purview of the states. Watch.

Any time, now.

Any time.

Is that crickets I hear?

Actually, many conservatives have pushed back, but not those who have been supporting this #shitholetrump. There are honest conservatives who really care about the constitution, and who have not sold their values to this egomaniac, who first delayed the implementation of rational measures along with his allies at Fox and other giant corporations, and not seeks to bring even more deaths by lifting precautions just when they are beginning to work. This criminal behavior has been exacerbated by the Fox/Jones corporate sponsored fake “conspiracy theories” thrown all over the Internet by fascist and neo-nazi groups, pretending they are just concerned people uncovering a plot to make people panic to make vaccines mandatory. Really? And it is these people they support trying to eliminate the non-vaccination strategies that are proven to work. They, along with Trump and his corporate allies, have been trying from the beginning to make the public not care, to make the most populated states suffer more deaths, and now to stop the flattening of the curve just when things are about to work out without tyranny.

Those of you who keep telling me something doesn’t add up. Here is why.

https://www.npr.org/2020/04/14/834040912/fact-check-trump-doesnt-have-the-authority-to-order-states-to-reopen

Sings the Rain

Sings the rain such multitudes inundating with joys my mind, arid and thirsty from so much reality.

Sings the rain her stories of cloud and sea.

Sings her river stream towards her destiny of vast immensity.

Sings her past, remote and cold, of immortal crown on sacred mountain.

Sings the rain her lives and pleasures in terrestrial creatures, in children and dogs, eagle and flower.

Sings, yes, and in her song she drenches my soul in her celestial flight, in her pass through the world and her lives in the sea.

She saturates my being with all those things the rain was and lived, living without being born, existing without dying, always in passing in her multiple forms, being all and no thing until it falls as rain and song in my soul of a child of the torrential tropics.

The rain falls and sings me the song of all life, her song.

The rain falls and sings me the song of all her lives, my song.

The rain falls and I fall with her. I am the raindrop that listens to the songs of the lives I was, that I am and that I will always be.

My whole life falls, drop of rain in the torrent that brings with it a piece of sky to the thirsty desert so much pregnant with life.

I fall life after life, drop of heaven, singing overflowing life in rain, storm, and dew between the heaven and the sea.

Fear Is our First Obstacle

Fear is our first obstacle. It comes from believing that the ego is real, and the supreme consciousness unreal.

Ego is afraid because it does not know truth.

It is okay to be afraid, the important thing is not to mind the fear. Do not act based on fear. Do not listen to the whispers of fear and do not follow its commands. See the fear, as you see everything else.

Fear is in the mind, and behind the fear is ignorance. See the fear. Observe it. It will also unfold and vanish like the shadows of night when the sun rises.

Know that You’re Surrounded by Mystery

The Dreaming is a Beast, and it speaks to you. It moves for you. Watch it carefully with all your attention in the moment. Don’t assume that you already know what’s happening.

When you already know what’s happening, you have already gone to sleep.

Know that you are surrounded by mystery. Know that death is hunting you. Know that behind you is a dark abyss of the unknown and that this may be your last moment.

Put all you have into this. That’s how you engage with the dreaming: as if this is your last moment; not as something that you will get later; not as something trivial.

There are no trivial moments for the warrior.

The Love of the Father

When the times bring you to that place where you feel unworthy of love and divine grace, think about the love parents have experienced for their child.

When immersed in remorse for past deeds, or when feeling weakened by the chains of habit in the sleeping state, think about the love present when you see a child you love. You do not love him for his strength, his power, or his abilities. You love him for the essence in him. If he is sleeping, you love him the same as when he is awake.

So is the light of your heart; worthy of love divine even when you are trapped in the sleeping state.

The mother sings to the child, though in his sleep the child knows it not, and his small breath is enough for the mother to feel all her loving care rewarded. That divine breath in you, makes your heart love, and that love comes from the infinite in you, and that awakens the love of the supreme consciousness witnessing your heart of hearts.

In the source of that love, no merit or deed is needed to justify it. Its existence is its reason to be loved.

Don’t Fight the Monsters of the Sleeping State—Awake!

Do not worry about the quirks of your personality you think are imperfections. They are just modalities of the human expression, and their value is only a function of the environment. What is considered a good virtue is a vice in a different society, and vice-versa.

When we are in the sleeping state, we have different degrees of so called “negative” qualities. However, none of them are real when the light of the supreme consciousness rises in the awakened being. Don’t waste your time, therefore, in correcting all “imperfections.” This is an unending task. This kind of self improvement is all about chopping off heads of Hydra one by one; two new heads come up for each one you take out.

Work, instead, towards the waking state. When you wake up, all the problems of the dream vanish along with the illusion that your true self exists in the dream only.

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Don’t Let the Driver of your Vehicle Fall Asleep

The main reason your instrument, your carriage, your human biological machine does not get into the waking state is because it is deathly afraid of it. When everything is working properly, the Master expresses his wishes, the driver knows the direction and controls the horses, the horses have the strength to go wherever the Master indicates, and the carriage simply follows. When everything is working in harmony, the Master gets to where he wills to go. If something goes wrong, then he might not get to where he wants to go. If the wheels are not attached correctly, the carriage will go nowhere. If the horses are not well trained, the carriage could go anywhere. If the horses are going crazy, berserk, they will not go anywhere. If the driver is drunk or asleep, it can’t get anywhere either. The nature of our sleep refers a lot to the driver falling asleep. The driver falls asleep and the horses go to where they want to go according to their preferences, their instincts.

Who are the horses, the driver, the cart? The horses represent your desires and your fears; or more properly said, your seductions and your aversions. When the driver is asleep, you are on autopilot and you move in accordance to your instincts. You are driven by the winds of karma. Some of the words I use here, you might be familiar with, but I will be using them in different ways. Here, I’m not using karma to mean “you do something good, you get something good.” That’s the soap-opera version of karma. Think of karma as a wind that moves the leaves of the tree sometimes here, sometimes there. We are like those leaves, and we’re moved by our desires and the circumstances around us.

Rarely do we have a driver that can direct our vehicle wherever we want to go. The driver is our conscious self, the thinking part of us that can plan, strategize, and make thoughtful decisions. A driver that is pulled and repelled by sensual or emotional attractions, is a driver that has given control of the vehicle to the horses. The driver is asleep, or otherwise merely witnessing the car being pulled by the horses of emotional identification. The driver might know where the master wishes to go, but he is incapable of directing the carriage.

The influence of the Master is very subtle. He has no direct influence over the cart. All he can do is talk and send a voice to the driver. But if the driver is drunk and asleep, he won’t listen. If there is a racket going on outside, he might get a distorted notion. All he has is that voice coming from somewhere behind him: “Take me to the park.” But the driver has to interpret, apply the command, and go. You have to listen to the voice while awake. If you are asleep, who knows what you’re listening to.

From The Teachings of a Toltec Survivor

I’d Gone to Another Place Again

I was very young. I must have been about seven years of age or five. I can’t remember right now. I had gone to the zoo with some aunts and cousins. After the zoo, we were going to the bus—this was in El Salvador. I was following my sister and cousin. Both were six years older than me. They were walking in front of me. I noticed they had begun to walk in a different way, to swing their hips more. I thought they were doing that because boys like it. I thought it was part of the human game. See, I didn’t realize then that I kept looking at the adults as someone would look at animals in the zoo: “These are their mating habits. These are the things they do when they lie. These are the things they do when they want to be liked.” Then, the girls turned a corner, and I followed them. On the sidewalk, there were two tables used by street vendors to offer such goodies as sweet breads and drinks. They were still setting up. My sister and cousin walked between the two tables, and I followed. I pulled myself up with my hands on the tables, and I swung myself playfully, and I came down. And when I came down, the people were not there. The street seemed the same, but no one was at the tables, and there was no food on them. All was quiet. There was an absence of smell, and everything had a buzz to it. And I turned around. There were very few people, and I ran to the corner to catch up with my cousins and aunt, but they were not there. There were some very old cars, not the type I used to see. And then I returned to the tables and I tried to do the same thing again; and, no, I was stuck there.

Something in me thought, I’m lost. I’ve gone to another place again. I looked at the street, and it went on and on for a while, and I said to myself, this is the way back home; if I walk down this path, I will get home, if don’t deviate from it.

I started walking on that strange street. Then, I saw a police officer; and when you are in those spaces in that world, uniformed personnel give you directions. He was standing in the middle of the street, but it didn’t seem odd. “Excuse me. I’m lost,” I told him.

He said, “You are not lost; if you were lost, you would be panicking and crying.”

“Well, I’m lost because I don’t know how to get back home.”

“Where is home?” he asked.

I said, “I live with the humans in Colonia Zacamil.”

So he smiled and said, “Come with me.” He took me to a bus; the door of the bus was opened. This bus was like in England, on the wrong side of the street, but I still entered through the right side from the street. He said to the driver, “This boy needs to get back home to the humans. Can you tell him when he’s there?”

He said, “Sure.” He didn’t ask where. He just drove. The scenery began to change. Slowly there was more dirt, sun, and more noise. The smells came back.

He asked, “You know how to get home from here?,” stoping the bus in front of the bus stop down the path to my house.

I said, “Yes, I do,” and I did. That was the first time I got lost, and then I started to get lost very often. I shifted the assemblage point by mistake at first.

When I got home, I told my mom what happened, and then I hid when my aunt showed up. My aunt was pale. She was worried. She reported we were all together, we were crossing the street, and then everyone crossed the street and I was not on the other side. She looked everywhere and couldn’t find me. Eventually she went home and told my mom. As she was telling my mom and my mom was calmly telling her, “Well, I don’t know, but you’re going to have to go back and find him,” and my aunt realized by my mother’s calm and dismissive demeanor that I was actually there and not lost, I sprung from behind the couch and pounced at her happily, hearing the bells of her happy laugh and cuddled in the warmth of her embrace under the all touching love of my mother’s smile.

The Golden Flower, pt 3: enlightened analysis by Paul Rovelli

This is a deep and accurate presentation of the import of part 3 of my book, The Golden Flower. Enjoy!

Part Three of The Golden Flower is titled: “And in the Philosopher’s Garden Lives the Scent of the Golden Flower.” The first chapter, ‘The Beast’ jumps right at the reader in the opening; especially the Thelemic reader. The Dreaming is turned from a process of consciousness and given a life as an objective being. It becomes the Holy Guardian Angel in the form of a beast that is the dream and the Augoeides. The Beast being the sun in Thelema, the second chapter, ‘Dream is a Dealing with Light’ follows with the Kyote identifying himself as the dream immersed in the light; he (or each of us) is the perceiver and the perception.

His attitude is as one hunting himself, so that in finding oneself, one realizes oneself as mastering the dream. “The only thing beyond the Dreaming itself is the pure, unblemished nothingness–just the silent sound of the eternal.” So that in the third chapter, “The Other Self”, the opening sentence offers the complementary theme: “When you are born, so that your physical body can have a form, a creature of light and shadow is fused to your body–an energy form with its own thoughts, feelings, likes and dislikes. This dual structure of bodies that posits “the other self” as “the dream self” or in Magick, the Augoeides. Waking in the lucid dream is but the first part of the word. The dremaing self must also wake in the physical body. The abstraction of consciousness is the key to the transformational magick of the White School of Magick and its dualist philosophy.

The fourth chapter lives up to its being the namesake of the book. The Kyote literally gives us the LOGOS and feeds us ‘the word’–showing us how IT is consciousness. IT is the Dreaming and the Lotus upon which Brama forever flaots–the Golden Flower. And the chapter fully delivers this to the reader as a sensibility, as the Kyote’s words seem to reach directly into one’s soul. The Golden Flower is ‘literally’ presented; pun intended. The Yellow Rose is but a tone given to the coloration of the Rosy Cross. It can clearly be seen that this chapter is the sumation of the Magick that perfectly draws from both Thelema and the Toltec.

The atmosphere of the fifth chapter: ‘The Going’ shares with us the afterglow from the peak experience of the previous chapter. We realize here that the Golden Flower; the book itself is a talisman, being the Wanga of a most magnificent Obeah. The Kyote’s words as much remind us of the afterglow of an LSD experience; the psychedelic sensibility being preeminant in this chapter. And the sixth chapter: ‘The Three Keys’ closes out this marvelous tome with the Kyote giving us Hadit, Nuit and Ra-Hoor-Khuit in that order; or you might say point, counterpoint and transcendent point.

Hadit is the god that never sleeps; eternally insatiate, and Nuit becomes the girl in the Universe Atu, with her reflection, as if the Kyote’s marvelously reflective images were pulled from Liber 231. And Ra-Hoor-Khuit is this god who “would that, in his eternal wakefulness, he’s always been srrounded by this eternal, unmoving, untouchable abyss behind him. The Kyote’s words make this chapter one long incantation. All that’s left for the reader is but ‘TO DO.’

By Paul Rovelli, director of The Gnostic Church of L.V.X.

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