Ideals And Ethical Dreams

There goes Lobsang Rampa flying out the door
having failed two spirituality tests: he says the
end justifies the means and extrapolates with an
impossible situation – such as Ayn Rand would
have shown him up claiming such hypothetical
situations never arise in reality, and I believe

The means becomes the end as explained by
Seth and Abraham, then this bright-eyed and
bushy-tailed multiple lifetimes reincarnating –
kind and refined Tibetan gentleman lovingly
informs his followers those taking alcohol and
drugs should be removed from society like

Weeds - they should not be allowed to have
children – said without compassion, without
a nuance of understanding nor any depth of
interpretation, he diverges radically from Seth
as channelled by Jane Roberts, saying no-one 
has the right to infringe on another’s freedom

To make and experience their own choices to
learn in this way, we can respect each other
without bombing another out of existence –
Lobsang enlarged my imagination, banishing
boredom and now he has also taught me how
to detect lack of respect for multidimensional

Reality, how to choose criteria and measure
self-styled spiritual leaders to catalogue them
in their own place far away from high ideals
and ethical dreams…

Succumb To Thrombosis [REV.]

I slink around wiggling my toes, waiting to
succumb to thrombosis caused by the very
murderous moonboot as predicted by the
kind doctor who did the sonar scan

Hands’ skin peeling from anxiety - the
sonar scan doctor recommends moving
about moonboot-less - while a general
practitioner thinks it’s disappointing

Ligaments are only partially healed, kindly
made appointment with her orthopaedic
surgeon with a bloodcurdling record doing
abortive hip replacements - therefore

Whatever he says, I won’t let him near me
with a knife, now I hang about without the
suspicious moonboot on my foot, doing my
exercises, turning circles with left-foot

And I still high step with the boot when I
get up, knowing the blood-clot threatening
boot and I are like naughty kids chided for
being bad, bad foot, bad boot, bad foot

Bad boot….

My Mind's Eye [REV.]

She’s jealous of the growing pool Alet said, its
a unique feature on our side of the building; a
spring tide this morning June claims, I want to
plant small flowers, adding goblins and deer,
June wants to plant mosses in a rock garden

Annette thinks we should sow beans - and in
my mind’s eye a magic beanstalk grows into
the heavens, we climb up to discover a new
dimension far away from our complaining
raucous factotum flabbergasted by the

Dripping water rotting carpet, causing growth
rings on the floor as the flood ebbs and flows;
we meet Bluebeard, steal all his riches and
jewels, return with our booty to the cheers
of all in the office…

[26 November 2014]

Problems Are Solved [REV.]

Meatballs and spaghetti, not for allergenic me of course,
you and the kids enjoy a hearty meal while I’m stuck with
veggies & side-salad - then you wash dishes of your own
accord and the kids go off to party with friends;

I watch NatGeoWild, Canada with snow I’ve never seen
personally, and probably never will; my diet restricts us
to a few organic dishes while we watch Diners, Drive-Ins
and Dives with quiet fascination resigned to the fact that

I can’t move outside the restrictions keeping me on even
keel - now you announce everything’s working perfectly,
punctuating the proclamation with amorous overtures -
that’s how I know all problems are solved!

Financial Advantage [REV.]

Navigated the minefield of your displeasure
almost successfully, only on two occasions
you told me to shut up, to stop commenting;
you’re sheltered happily in your programme
Going Live - and say, stop irritating me with
comments inapplicable to the Dramatic

Situation Unfolding; - I realise the only thing
I can do is let you revel in your own misery,
you enjoy being a martyr to excellence that
you own far too much of - & now it’s raining;
I’ll take your word for it you say, & suddenly
you’re successfully Going Live


Another thing I have no way of appreciating
except your joy at it happening - little me is
sitting here hoping I might get good results
from a moon boot sonar scan tomorrow -
but its irrelevant as it doesn’t directly mean
financial advantage…

Confused Delight

Feeling confused I once more indulge
my weakness for innocence - listening
to Amira’s first CD & while recognising
the knife-sharp high notes, the clarity of
tone and honesty of her presentation –
being everything I dreamed about at her
age and now can look back on as a kind
of life I would never have been able to
sustain, shyness being ingrained to the
point of derailment in my system, I love

The way she looks at the world with the
wondering eyes of a child and she does
not consider herself as singer as she
said, she wants the profit to do good for
those suffering and she clearly sings
for the joy it gives her, her natural and
childish delight in applause marks her
as a child who enjoys a fairytale yet still
feeds the cat and changes its sandbox,
with confused delight I listen, by doing

This I add to the wrong of exploiting a
young child – oh heavens, this makes
sense regarding pornography where
people’s brains show black spots of
atrophy when overindulging – but this
lovely sound, too sharp but oh so clear
and natural, of a child’s presentation
with confidence and trust in the adults
who watch her with interest – and all
she shows is this small girl and older

Brother who has the most mischievous
don’t care expression on his lips while
he takes care of his sis – what a bright
episode in which the gods themselves
delight and indulge – as long as there
are intelligent guidance preventing
harm, everything will be okay as yet…

Operation Moonboot Starts Again [REV.]

This fashionable moonboot & I may part company
as soon as tomorrow; it’ll be determined whether
ligaments are healed enough to allow me to sleep
without it - putting an end to the fight every night

with my left foot to position moonboot on top of the
duvet, under the duvet, getting caught in the sheet,
pillows under, around and next to my leg to support
the heavy hard-duty moonboot-foot

pressure too much - easing the Velcro; conscience
then intervenes and I duly tighten again, the sole of
my foot burning uncomfortably, I open the front part
of the shoe but keep my heel digging into the sole

until it is uncomfortable too, in two desperate hours
struggle I’m perspiring profusely & my moonboot
relationship turns sour verging on bitter divorce -
but I get up again, tie a handkerchief over the front

of my foot to cover sore, broken skin, pull on my
sock, falling asleep from sheer exhaustion until my
beloved slides clinging like an octopus into bed,
waking me, so - operation moonboot starts again…

[25 November 2014]

Love Is Not A Feeling [REV.]

I believe men can only love women romantically
if they’ve never been wed to one; maybe it holds
true for women too who can only unconditionally
love a man if they have never been wed to one
either; but once husband and wife have to face

Family budgets and the DNA inheritance of their
off-spring unconditional love & romance ceases;
of a morning he’s hostile at her arising, she has
to get ready for work and is tired, looking unlike
his ideal - and she hates him for hating the kids

He ascribes what’s wrong in his life to her being
who she is - she struggles with guilt clouds until
she cedes, severs ties made in hell; marriages
which make it predicate on lack of romantic love,
i.e., he sees her for the ugly little thing she is

While she sees him for the accusatory & angry
person he is - romantic love only exists where
there’s no bond: when people share a life, the
only thing left to comprehend is this: Love is
not a feeling, but a state of the mind

Heaven Indeed [REV.]

Today you hate me - or at best dislike me - or is
it just guilt assignment for failures in your life; if
I do anything you remonstrate, shouting at me;
when I express anger at our son wasting your
money, you savagely attack me - when

I open the sun-room door, you nearly have an
apoplexy; I’m forced to conclude you hold me
responsible for bearing you a son who wastes
your money at university, for daring to have an
opinion, much less express it - now I simply

Absorb the negative energy and remember all
good things you do, finding balance between
your dislike & empathy; at this moment I find
release in German music soothing my heart’s
guilt feelings for being here, hoping that

Release would be sweet, that there’d be a
place for me where I can stop feeling guilty -
now wouldn’t that be heaven indeed…

[23 November 2014]

With The Right Timbre [REV.]

Vanilla-flavoured, caramel-sweet, streams
rounded & golden soft, perfect globules of
magical vibrations absolutely calming my
heart while awakening wonderment

Feeling soothed by the innocent youth
of the girl dreaming of singing opera, now
the exquisite voice has too small a throat
and too young chords to grow fuller in

A bewitching lyricism to come; yet feeling
is palpable in a charming rendition of Pie
Jesu & Voi Che Sapete - mesmerising as a
promise of how she will sing when this

Gifted young girl has evolved into her
ideals & her voice is strong enough to
reverberate with the right timbre to
express everything she feels…

[Listening to Amira Willighagen]

[22 November 2014]

Resigned Bitter-Sweet Amen [REV.]

There is only one true reaction listening to
Ave Maria sung by Maria Callas, a single
way to feel what the music brings - tears,
the stab to the heart so painful and sharp,
the full, beautiful voice piercing previous
defences against feelings, voice gaining
in intensity - like a judgment from God

Increased urgency ascends to its highest
notes expressing unbearable pain, all this
spinning in circling scales, rolling cascades
following each other – creating an aspect of
increasing dread, the inevitable feelings of
eternal sadness accompanied by terrible
emotion as the words “Santa Maria”

Repeat against overflowing streams of
notes rolling over and over and drowning
listeners in their own sorrows, then with
its crescendos spent, winding down to a
resigned bitter-sweet Amen…

[21 November 2014]

Shackles I Cannot Face [REV.]

To react emotionally to information in writing
is idiotic; I am such an idiot, I have to ignore
things like the Raelian Movement; although
respecting its right to establish a new creed
based on Sitchin and Von Daniken’s ideas

I keep my distance from sheep following the
original thinkers whose books I enjoy reading
enriching the imagination, but never making
philosophies into rules to enlighten my life,
freedom is more important than new dogma

Where sexualised love’s a norm required as
a way of life - already a distortion of the kind
of love we feel for the world plus everything
in it; reading about the new mind manacles
caused such a headache - a sure sign that

It’s not for me; people with integrity benefit
from whatever they believe even if it means
topless rights for ladies, while I’ll cherish my
freedom to wear layers of clothing allowing
me a sense of security, leaving their overly

Restrictive company, the headache lifted &
even the beautiful-underground-temple of
the Damanhur Federation in Piedmont
represents shackles I cannot face

[21 November 2014]

Thwarts The Ideal [REV.]

Some got the message that we create our
own reality all wrong - saying ill-health is a
sign of us being bad; but it’s not at all what
Seth meant - bad only applies to whatever
makes us mad, given a self-chosen focus

Illness is caused by choosing to cherish
pain-inflicting thoughts, stopping the life
stream, rowing against a strong current,
wearing ourselves out without attaining
anything - without fulfilling ideals -

Thinking unhappy thoughts that destroy
our own power, telling our cells we don’t
like them & the body’s no good; it is no
big thing always feeling powerless, not
evil - we are free to act with impunity, to

Do as we please, free to discover for our-
selves what works, what brings disaster,
there’s nothing evil or bad - just the most
delightful discovery how to manipulate life,
the only bad is fixating on whatever

Thwarts the ideal in our hearts…

[20 November 2014]

Participatory Geste

Wearing hearing aids these past 24 hours has been an 

extravagantly sensory inundation; and I’m not unaware

there are other sounds out there - tho’, maybe at times, 

am glad I don’t have to recognise and categorise them; 

unamplified they are easily blended in a mellowness of 

ambient, unspectacularly ordinary background noises; 

- it isn’t until an augmented air of bird chatter flings the 

towel irremediably into the ring - shattering such calm 

Then I have to attend to this reality; the raucous crow’s 

calls are truth as much as feeding lorikeets shrieking in 

deafening unison are facts of living near trees in flower, 

& I don’t need reminding some bird song isn’t melodic, 

or ear pleasing either, sounding so much like acrimony 

one learns to expect from our parliamentary clique 

But in the event there’s a sense of participatory geste 

that pays fuller feelings nearer the core of what one’s 

being is supposedly about; so comprenez, when you 

shut birds and the rest of it out you’re denying part of 

who you are; therefore I see hearing aids worn more 

regularly - and even without human company 

© 20 November 2014, I. D. Carswell

Dare To Believe In Dreams [REV.]

Mathematical consultant Harold Gans reviewed Michael
Drosnin’s Bible Code of Witztum-Rips experiment - with
tested scientific protocols specified by reviewers and
strong statistical evidence for Jewish sages names, birth
and death dates encoded in the Hebraic Genesis text

But Drosnin's Torah code use to predict future events
is unfounded & sans scientific mathematical bases as
saying that ‘Encoded words represent potential future
incidents’, is logically flawed; one prediction of Prime
Minister Rabin’s assassination & an infinite number of

Successful predictions, is just anecdotal evidence, not
acceptable proof, the only fact of Genesis codes is that
they exist, the probability of mere coincidence actually
is vanishingly small - with this the careful mathematical
scientist exists, NO conclusions on facts ascertained

An instinct for remaining forever unsung, a founder of
no theory or idea, thus leaving the stage clear for the
Einsteins & Darwins with the courage to conclude the
unthinkable; a new theory - I revel in the mystery of
the Bible text that says so much & nobody knows

What it means - I conclude a consciousness outside
the linear time stream left an advanced technology
legacy from a future time we still have to reach –
what new wonders await - when we dare
to believe in dreams…

[19 November 2014]

The Multiverse Splits [REV.]

Dr Rips, Hebrew University Professor of Mathematics
claiming serious scientific Bible Codes research, says
Michael Drosnin's predictions are not valid - since the
practice making predictions on Torah codes is futile

And thus concurs every scientist, their only conclusion
is Torah codes exist beyond mere coincidence - I am
content with scientists tip-toeing over ideas like this as
futures can’t be predicted - only travellers in relative

Einstein-time can relay what has been from futures
where they looked back on finished events, then what
they say is mere probability - the trousers of time may
split, continue in a different time-line than was seen

By time-travellers; they might have seen another universe
where George Orwell’s 1984 had been realised - the Bible
Codes have one wonderful meaning for me: Proof that an
intelligence existing outside earth’s time-line did appear

To construct computer codes in a long-ago time-line before
modern technology and quantum interpretation, therefore
Bible codes confirm time is relative and our consciousness
is not confined in space-time, being free to roam anywhere

In a multiverse of infinite probabilities; as long as we dream
of wonderful new things, we shall create the best time-line
each time when the multiverse splits…

[19 November 2014]

Dark, Silent, Horrible Places [REV.]

Like a wild horse on speed the day ran
away from me; couldn’t get a rein on it,
it fled, didn’t give me a chance to touch
my feet to the earth - I gave up & read
it takes many million Consciousness
Units to form one atom; everything is

Conscious, seemingly immobile things
are formed by energetic strings, but it did
not make me feel better; I tried food, an
omelette, sausage & chocolate, felt worse,
but one bright beacon shone across this
dark day: Amira singing Ave Maria with

Such a clear voice - I rose, carried on in
tone; listening to her rendition of O Mio
Babbino Caro filled me with awe, and
though still despondent, excluded from
life and meaning, estranged from my
office colleagues, made my way out to

Meet you going home, arrived to find
Gator Boys on TV and slowly my spirit
came to rest after a day spent in the dark
of silent, horrible places…

[18 November 2014]

Sail Away

The maddening pain in my head is destroying
everything I have ever read or said, my world
implodes until there is only one infinitely heavy
dark item left ready to explode back into life as
soon as the headache lifts – but it will not

It clings like a parasite; I accept responsibility for
the crime which has such dire effects: eating that
beautiful baked potato dish my Beloved prepared
with such relish, I did not want to disappoint him
and tucked in with delight – but later that night

The headache claimed my head with spite, I know
it is right to suffer for hurting others but why suffer
for eating with the wish to please another being?
Now I’m estranged, alienated, listlessly looking
through documents, my brain a mushy mess

And I have no feelings left, only sharp edges of pain
that drain all emotion until my head is a flat screen
without pictures or writing…I’m free to do as I please
the only limitation is my body reacts violently to any-
thing identified as threatening - that’s about

Everything - from rice to grain to fat to fish, paying
the price for my own recklessness in eating a rich
bacon &cheese potato dish, slipping into an ink-
black place with inner screens for literal tunnel-
vision, pressing with such force on my ears

Hara-kiri sounds like heavenly purging, losing contact
with all as my head inflates and the software swells
against my cranium, berating myself has no positive
effect while the guru’s chant ‘You create your own
life’ – clearly I create existential distress with

A masterly hand, clearly my Beloved is right when he
says we’ll never travel as my digestive system would
make it a misery, clearly I’m bound to this chair, the
only safety is in waiting with Stoic calm until the storm
abates and I can sail away from this place of pain

[17 November 2014]

My Descent [REV.]

I start my descent every Saturday into a
pit of discontent; crouched on the couch,
left ankle throbbing with Arthur Findlay’s
notes on the meaning of life - wishing to
refine my dreams just to find no reverie
in my head; my beloved cursing his luck
as a team arrives in pouring rain to fix
blocked drains outside while he wants
to watch his rugby team scoring

Deteriorating weather and aching foot-
hellish heat in moon boot - slept with a
wet sock scaring family who decreed it
illegal; a fine Halloween trick: keep feet
wet to shock all with shrivelled skin yet
I won’t do it again as it scared me too;
drain team left & my Beloved installed
in front of TV - while I’m watching an
American dancing programme

On what can be done with healthy limbs
not ensconced in demonic moon boots -
tomorrow’s Sunday, threatening another
descent into dark imprisoned discontent
of torn ligaments thus no swimming or
shopping, may my sister’s wedding on 12
December find my foot restored so I can
dress in ‘Gatsby’ style, complementing
her theme for future domestic felicity

[15 October 2014]

Refine My Dreams [REV.]

Mankind’s destiny is to put the mind in total
control of its surrounds, to become what we
do and think - fulfilment's first step Is taking
control over space & time, allowing mankind

To pass through earth experience all refining
individualised minds - preparing them to deal
with the immediate manifestation of thought
registered on the mind’s wavelength, without

Need for physical-deed-intermediaries to
fulfil a dream, but before such power can be
controlled, the genie must stay in its bottle &
learn to deal with contents of its own mind;

It makes sense to take care about what is
allowed to bloom into our thought-stream - 
pure-mind-existence means no metaphor
stands ‘tween us & what we think, living

As symbols of love, principle and wisdom
without the safety of the physical mask
which protected our innermost secrets
from scrutiny; the shock of seeing who

We really are and what harmonic tone
we belong to according to the character
we have, is painful;, we need to prepare
for such reality, while the sweet delight

Of finding we exist within the dream we
cherished most will be indescribable joy;
so I shall immediately refine my dreams

Ascend Through The Spheres [REV.]

Listen, he said, mind learns to make images and gain
control over its surroundings and until physical release
into the higher reach of vibrational frequencies, it is
trained through its creativity here on earth

Mind learns to control space and time since the mind
exists forever and grows more individualised through
experience; as we think we shall be, it’s our destiny
to triumph over earth-life; then death severs matter

And mind, which moves to high frequency vibrations
interpenetrating the same space as the observable
earth - millions of finer globes merge together on the
surface of a sphere where we’ll exist after Earth-life

Where vibrations refine mind as we ascend through
the spheres - where it all leads is an open question,
all this enlarges our vision and leads us to increase
effort towards perfection; thus we create a meaning

For life on earth which gives the discerning mind a
whole new purpose…

[14 November 2014]

Bemused, Overjoyed Eyes [REV.]

So - how does one go about getting Arthur
Findlay’s Curse of Ignorance to be Africa’s
prescribed book? Combining it with Neale
Donald Walsch’s Tomorrow’s God would be
ideal to teach ethics and integrity -

The God we construct ourselves is terrible,
a vengeful force keen to smite enemies after
fighting others everywhere we go, we need
to create a NEW God to represent our best
qualities - not our minds worst ideas

Africa is happily, cheerfully repeating all the
European Great War lessons learned, what
we need is a great social dictator to usurp
all power, build infrastructure creating jobs
for us all, after this Hitlerian social mission

He should be removed by a coup, his great
social reforms retained while a new system
of values and ethics is taught in all Africa’s
schools - what a great fantasy this is, just
like the stream of advice for new ways to

Organise South Africa that appears weekly
in Sunday newspapers - we all dream and
make changes in the mind’s eye; of virtual  
realities being manifested in infinite worlds
as life splits at the trousers of time - I love

The reality in which I live where dreaming
removes a cynic’s weariness & scientists
delight in life as chaotic probabilities, and
it lies in OUR hands to create a new path
for life stretched out to eternity in front of

Our bemused, excited, overjoyed eyes…

[14 November 2014]

Something Deep

Upon completion of correcting my text I felt the need
for something deep and found my old friend Arthur
Findlay again, author of ‘On the Edge of the Etheric’
another Scotsman who believes in ethics, but where
his compatriot the lovable McGonagall was religious

And preached a dour morality; the friendly Findlay
is a Spiritualist who believes the Golden Rule of ‘Do
Unto Others As You Want Them To Do Unto You’ is
bigger than  local religion which has been used by
priests to keep people ignorant and subservient

In ‘Curse of Ignorance’ Findlay explains that history
exalts heroes without wisdom or self-control simply
because they fire the imagination - yet perpetuated
war and unethical behaviour, he believes in teaching
kids ethics and rational behaviour - that the mind

Continues after physical death, that the individual’s
integrity or lack thereof determines where we shall
harmonise in the afterlife – and I love this, learning
must be acquired & wisdom comes from experience
I think feeling what we’re reading is the same thing

Thus have I tried to obtain wisdom without having
to live through every painful event recorded, extra
sensory experience would be wonderful but would
estrange me from my beloved community, Findlay
did the experiments with mediums and spirits and

Reported all in a no-nonsense way - ignorance has
always been abhorrent to me - childhood seemed
a suffering & enlightenment removes the curse of
suffering while wisdom is a delight far beyond any
material event - I love Findlay ‘s ethical wisdom

And rejoice in McGonagall’s glaring with love-
beaming eyes – what a brilliant combination -
Arthur Findlay and William Topaz McGonagall!

[12 November 2014]

A Wild Passion [REV.]

Fulfilled my one-time vision of sitting in
a fixed position quietly all day long, only
getting up to stand at my desk while still
typing - and reading, not going outside -
not spending a cent, just translating and
checking expression and term in similar
documents using the right jargon on the
Internet - & working with double vision

Doing it even when our local diva Mimi
goes into a higher register of noise and
just blows off the roof with exclamations
talking to her kids; I insert borrowed ear
phones which should have been buried
ages ago, the distortion’s so large but I
up the volume, continue working on my
fragile country - feels as if I’m handling

Precious orchids to be damaged by the
slightest lapse in concentration; I wish
those old public servants in the Congo
may earn a pension, retire after age 75,
I wish Africa could learn the secret of
affluence without destroying the country;
I love the African continent with a wild
passion that knows no end…

[12 November 2014]


[ORIGINAL:]

Fulfilling my one-time vision of sitting quietly all day long
in one position - only getting up to stand at my desk while
still typing and reading, not going outside - not spending a
cent, just doing a translation and checking every expression
and term in similar documents using the right jargon on the
Internet, working even with double vision, continuing even

When Mimi our local diva goes into a higher register of noise
and just blows off the roof with her exclamations talking to
her kids, I just use borrowed ear phones which should have
been buried ages ago, the distortion's so large but I turn up
the volume and continue working on my fragile country -
feels as if I'm handling a precious orchid that might be

Damaged by the slightest lapse in concentration; I wish those
old public servants in the Congo may earn a pension to retire
after age 75, I wish Africa could learn the secret of affluence
without destroying their country; I love the African continent
with a wild passion that knows no end…

[11 November 2014]

Mea Culpa

Resting my moonboot-foot on a discarded
printer under my desk while fighting through
this day of discomfort caused by my eating
cheese grillers and homemade bread - all
which could have been avoided  by fasting

Mea culpa – I study the life of St Theresa of
Avila to learn about inner peace; but as she
believed in suffering in silence and achieving
divine ecstasy through self-flagellation, she
might not be the right role model for me –

Though I would be glad if noisy Mimi in the
office would take up St Theresa and be quiet
for a while; as for me, nothing but a dive into
icy- cold water can save THIS crocodile, yet
torn ligaments do not allow such liberty 

We have to endure Mimi’s endless noise and
she doesn’t seem likely to discover the delights
of self-flagellation any time soon, wish we could
make her see why she needs to change….

[10 October 2014]

A Transparent Illusion (COR.)

St Joseph of Cupertino

Lovely - a magician walks horizontally down
the side of a building and makes a fountain
freeze up by his hand’s touch, also changes
coconut milk into coffee, leaves an imprint of
his hand ON showcase glass; makes every-
one’s  cell phone ring at the same time, then

The disheartening vitriolic comments and home-
made explanations for tricks implying everyone
the magician meets is paid to play games with
bottles, cell-phones and rings,  to crown it all,
have been sworn to silence on pain of death,
how else explain their silence obtained -

An illusionist levitates in front of a statue and
people rush in with an explanation involving so
much conniving, seems the world’s conspiring
to confuse invading aliens from far-off galaxies,
therefore, magic is only enjoyed by ignoring the
Internet where self-righteous people on duty

Spoil the fun of enchantment, hastening to kill
wonderment and indulgence in tricks that can’t
hurt anyone: may those who breakfast on prunes
sink into their own low vibration where they can
practice being spiteful with each other and may
great magicians rise high while levitating

Then fly like Joseph of Cupertino and St Teresa
of Avila - may the limits of reality be exposed as
a transparent illusion offering everyone freedom
to do as many magical tricks as we can think of
 
[10 October 2014]

St Theresa of Avila

Hold Him In Awe

After relaying the words of others today – a day in
which I did not take off my moon boot – not even
once, wearing a knee-high silk stocking one-size
fits all except me, I’ve got the ring mark to prove it

Today for the first time after getting the grey boot
3 weeks ago I did not even open the Velcro, finishing
my fragile-state translation more important than any-
thing else on earth, still sitting here not even opening

The boot at home - tomorrow a physiotherapist will
decide what exercises to do – a much needed gift
as I pass out from lack of energy in the office with-
out walking about - our security guard telling me

Tomorrow I must walk normally and my explaining
this is a six-weeks boot for torn ligaments grade 3,
luckily no operation but I have to take care, waiting
for my Beloved I hop into the road, crutch in hand

Knowing he’s impatient to get back into the flow of
traffic though he warns me to take care – yet he is
the one reason I take chances as I do not wish to
impose on his lofty highness too much - I laugh

He doesn’t even know how much I hold him in awe

Verb In A Sentence [REV.]

Today after frothing, sizzling & boiling over my brain
is thoroughly cooked and my head smoking with the
concentration; then a visual feat reading dense text
with double vision, ears ringing with tinnitus - arms
aglow with heat, with four or five words describing

One English verb, fuzzy and woolly trying to inspire
the old palate: I'm spent - even NatGeoWild is too
much - except at six when the hopping crocodile of
Oz is about to be on, can't wait to tell my Oz brother
again there IS a reptile that hops from one dry pond

To the next - but right now I'm trying to make sense
of a world in which I misspent my youth searching
for truth instead of the excellence that would make
me a great translator knowing exactly where the
verb should be in a sentence…

A Suffering Argument

This headache is so endemic to my primitive crocodile
system seems it will accompany me to eternity, such
overwhelming fatigue - what if I feel the same in the life
after death, what if this is deep-seated psychological
conflicts and my consciousness gets stuck on this
mental station in the astral dimension -

What if this is an emotional reaction to spiritual problems
I have not addressed as yet? Why not reset my mental
configuration so that the meaning I assign to life becomes
endemic instead? "Suffering through time is supposed to
teach us to stop suffering", the self-satisfied, self-righteous

Self-assigned spiritual guru's claim - and fold their hands in
an ascetic self-congratulatory way while I stare at them - it's
an idiotic argument: misery is inflicted to teach us not to be
miserable - the only way suffering is stopped is by taking the
cause away, "Stop playing victim", the passing guru says

Eyes heavenward, "then nobody can be aggressor"- brilliant,
all problems solved by us becoming insensitive to problems
stalking us, "You brought it on yourself", a sweet disciple
says skipping away happily doing one-hand clapping in his
Zen-trance, irritating me so much I wish to clap the enthusiast

With one hand - the other hand will hold my victim - imagine
how much damage I can inflict while they refuse to play victim
yet I insist on being the aggressor - I'll fix the whole dreamy
group of out-of-body-afterlife, impractical spiritualists!

[5 October 2014]

Symbol Of Love (Cor.)

Sometimes I wonder if losing the one we love
is a prerequisite to discover a capacity to love
many MORE people than just one romance; I
wonder whether we have to lose focus on just
that special one to offer love to everything

People, animals, nature & inanimate objects as
symbols of our deepest feelings; can we have a
love affair with the beautiful world, does loss of
a romantic love teach us it is not the end of the
world, but rather the beginning of an infinite

Love affair with the world as it is, the freedom to
delight in all people and all the world's wonders -
thus the deep loneliness inside, the hole in the
heart can be filled by an all-embracing love, isn't
this the effect of mind-altering drugs - could we

Remember the feeling to go on - with a mind all
new since knowing what true love is, instead of
growing furious when we lose the drug-induced
delight; maybe we can increase the flow of love
in our hearts and leave the artificial veneer

Of cultural suppression to become who we really
are: lovable, loving human beings who refuse to
row upstream against our feelings, sharing love
without fear of rejection since love unconditional
does not require a response, it simply IS - like

The sun giving light to all, not just those of our
own culture, skin and location - sometimes it
seems sunshine is liquid love scattered by the
winds to fill all with joy and we can offer shade
to all who take too much sun and we can

Lead those stuck in their suffocating mind-caves
back to the beauty of light - as the symbol of love

[4 October 2014]


[ORIGINAL:]

Sometimes I wonder if losing the one we love
is a prerequisite for discovering we have the
ability to love many MORE people than just
ONE romance - and I wonder whether we

Have to lose the focus on just that special one
in order to offer love to everything in the world,
people, animals, nature and inanimate objects
as mind-boggling symbols of our deepest

Feelings – I wonder whether we can have a love
affair with the beloved world in which we live; do
you know what I mean? Maybe loss of romantic
love teaches us it is not the end of the world, but

The beginning of an infinite love affair with the
world as it is, discovering the freedom to delight
in all people and the world’s wonders, and thus
the deep loneliness inside, he hole in the heart

Left after loss – can be filled by an all-embracing
love - do you think it is possible? - Isn't this the
feeling we have upon using mind-altering drugs
and alcohol? Shouldn’t we treasure this feeling

And relive it when the substance’s effect is gone
and we can go on with a new mind which knows
what true love is, instead of growing furious when
we lose the delight created by these drugs? –

Maybe we can increase the flow of love in our hearts
and leave the artificial veneer of cultural suppression
to become who we really are – lovable, loving human
beings who refuse to row upstream against their own

Feelings and needs, sharing their love with everything
without fear of rejection since unconditional love does
not require a response, it simply IS like the sun giving
light to all, not just a chosen few on the grounds of

Their culture, skin and location? Sometimes I think
sunshine is liquid love scattered by the winds to fill
everything with delight - giving us opportunities to
help making shade for all who take too much sun

And to lead anyone stuck in the suffocating caves
inside their minds, back to the beauty of light as
the symbol of love…

[2 October 2014]