Time to...

Awaken


High Vibration go on
To the sun, oh let my heart dreaming
Past a mortal as me Where can I be

Wish the sun to stand still
Reaching out to touch our own being
Past all mortal as we Here we can be We can be here Be here now Here we can be

AWAKEN
SUNS HIGH STREAMS THRU
AWAKEN
GENTLE
STRONG DREAMS REIGN HERE
GENTLE
MASS
.)(.
MASS
TOUCH
STAR, SONG, AGE, LESS
TOUCHING
Workings of man Set to ply out historical life Reregaining the flower of the fruit of his tree All awakening All restoring you
Workings of man Crying out from the fire set aflame By his blindness to see that the warmth of his being Is promised for his seeing his reaching so clearly
Workings of man Driven far from the path Rereleased in inhibitions So that all is left for you all is left for you all is left for you all this left for you
NOW...

Master of Images Songs cast a light on you Hark thru dark ties That tunnel us out of sane existence In challenge as direct As eyes see young stars assemble

Master of Light All pure chance As exists cross divided In all encircling mode Oh closely guided plan Awaken in our heart

Master of Soul Set to touch All impenetrable youth Ask away That thought be contact With all that's clear Be honest with yourself There's no doubt no doubt

Master of Time Setting sail Over all our lands And as we look Forever closer Shall we now bid Farewell farewell...

High Vibration go on
To the sun, oh let my heart dreaming
Past a mortal as me Where can I be

Wish the sun to stand still
Reaching out to touch our own being
Past all mortal as we Here we can be We can be here

Like the time I ran away And turned around And you were standing close to me
Like the time I ran away And turned around And you were standing close to me

-Jon Anderson/Steve Howe
-Going For The One
-Yes

Anality

"Excreting is the curse that threatens madness because it shows man his abject finitude, his physicalness, the likely unreality of his hopes and dreams. But even more immediately, it represents man's utter bafflement ath the sheer non-sense of creation: to fashion the sublime miracle of the human face, the mysterium tremendum of radiant feminine beauty, the veritable goddesses that beautiful women are; to bring this out of nothing, out of the void, and make it shine in noonday; to take such a miracle and put miracles again within it, deep in the mystery of eyes that peer out-the eye that gave even the dry Darwin a chill: to do all this, and to combine it with an anus that shits! It is too much. Nature mocks us, and poets live in torture."

-Ernest Becker
Denial of Death

Denial of Death

I am re-reading Ernest Becker's 1973 Pulitzer Prize Winning non-fiction book "Denial of Death", though I'm not sure exactly why, frankly. As I finished the first three chapters, that old familiar anxiety began returning as I felt my breathing getting more shallow, the hair on my neck and arms standing up and in a state of absolute terror. H.P. Lovecraft and Edgar Allan Poe are light comedy compared to this existential nuclear bomb. After reading it about six or seven years ago now, I was in a state of complete panic for weeks. I was absolutely unprepared for what it had to say, and found myself completely revealed, stripped bare by all the energy I had put into necessary repression of the fear of dying. Real horror to me always seems to have something to do with the impending and unrelenting nature of death. I could not begin to sumarize his theories, except to say that I fully agree that man's entire edifice of society and culture are built on the rocky foundation of immortality, which is nothing more than our biological and organismic denial of our tragic fate and inevitable oblivion. He maintains that the position that man has to endure is nothing more than the journey of the heroic as he recognizes his end and yet is incapable of accepting it. Our entire culture has created small monuments to disarming this truth and in that falsity perpetuates our existential crisis of life on this planet.
I can't remember if he has a solution to the problem. Oh yeah...more repression, I think.
Remember, this was written in 1973, when the author was dying and just a blink of an eye after Watergate. The Sixties had just ended with it's radical shift in conciousness fueled by LSD and Speed (not given enough coverage), Marijuana was really getting going and there was incredible disillusionment with this culture. I don't know the man personally, his references to Frued, Rank and others is substantial. But all I'm saying is you can't remove an individual from the society he is in at the time.
Yet the book is still unbearably creepy and gets under my skin, heating it up with nightmare stuff.
I like being scared sometimes I think.

Have I lost my nerve, or what?

I no longer jump on an opportunity. This is new. My ego sees this as being the getting up late bird who missed the worm and went back to sleep. The man of action, so aptly referred to by Dostoevsky in Notes From Underground, has been up much much earlier than I. He not only got the worm, but the girl, the job, the car, the house, the backyard and the two car garage. I, slacker that I am, get nothing. Ironic comment that. By getting nothing, of course, I'm getting God as God is nothing. I mean that in the most reductive of ways of course.

I had an idea yesterday. A good one actually. Get my own comedic sports-talk radio show. I even got the program director of a nationally renowned company to call me back. Unfortunately as soon as the idea became a potential reality it became a bad idea just as quickly. I wonder what that's about. I never had that problem before. Certainly not after a drink. After a drink I could swing with the best of them, BS with the King and Queens and still take a boat home to Dover. I was a Bon Vivant before they invented it. When did these wussification happen? How did I get some wormy and mouselike about life? Why have I stopped pouncing?

The answer seems to have something to do with my life versus my life situation. There is my life and then there is my situation. My life is who I am. My life situation is what is happening at this moment. When I compare my life with my life situation I perceive that only one of them is actually real. My life situation is temporary, even though it is right now. My life is eternal and unchanging. It is the actual me that cannot be touched by the problems of the world. It is the me that is part of something larger. Of course my Ego is laughing at this train of thought calling it pontification. It tells me that no one from the LA Weekly is reading your blog and to give it up. What a funny friend the Ego is. Funny Funny.

Truth be told, what my Ego tells me is fear and a loss of nerve may just be prudence and self care. What my Ego calls lack of risk taking may just be me finally settling into a life that works for me. My Ego is only interested in what have you done for me lately. My life is about making sure that God is served. Will making the call to the Program Director about something I would like to do affect the deeper core of who I am. Truth be told, I have no idea what that would bring. But I know that if I make the choice or not it is not a reflection of who I am at the core.

Earnings retardation? Or faith?

That's a good one. That's a really good one. Why am I always broke? By that I mean is asking that question essentially creating the condition? In other words, when I ask "why am I always broke?" am I setting the wheels in motion to create brokeness in order to ask the question and make it valid? Does the word "broke" carry with it a defeated, demoralized state. "Why am I always giving up homeruns?" is what Brett Tomko is probably asking right now. Is giving up homeruns a result of a mechanical flaw in his delivery, as all of the analysts carefully suggest? Or is it part of a stange cycle that begins in the subconcious, moves out through the universe, creates neuropeptides that massage the brain and make us high with condition of being broke?

Or maybe it is a kind of mental deficiency to numbers. Is the problem contained in a math de-aptitude. Or maybe to my ability to adjust to reality (life on life's terms) that tells me I need to budget more, I need to earn more, I need to change jobs but can't. What's wrong with me is the ultimate upshot of this paradigm. A kind of earnings retardation. So it seems.

Or is the whole thing a huge manifestation of my spiritual growth to absolutely trust God in all areas of my life no matter what it appears. To humbly ask for help knowing that I am doing the best I can at this moment and to be deeply compassionate with myself over this unbearably frustrating set of circumstances to the ego? Is it about the gratitude and the blessings bestowed on the money going out over and over again and the not create a self around that? Is all of it exactly the way it is supposed to be and the final act of faith in the certainty of God's love and divinity and an end to fear?

The spiritual path to being broke?

I had no idea.

I had no idea who I was growing up. I chose acting because when I acted you seemed to like me more. So I acted so that you would like me more. As my sense of self changes and I base my identity less on what others think of me and more on what God thinks of me, I am losing my relationship to acting because it came from a problem with my self worth, rather than what I really wanted to do. When I ask myself then, without the spectre of that need, what it is that I want to do, my answer is...I don't know.

Okay, I miss it.

I miss acting. Or do I? I feel like I miss acting. But I don't really miss it. But I do. I feel like something is missing from me for not acting. But then when I consider acting again I don't want to. I miss the idea of acting. I miss what acting represents to my larger goals of being someone worthwhile. If I am merely useful as opposed to succesful then I have abnegated my right to like myself (You get the irony here friends?).

Here's what I'm tryin to say. If I'm not acting then who am I? If I'm not making money above and beyond the call of duty the who am I? If I am not in a relationship or marriage then who am I? I have definied myself for so long by the prospect of what I'm supposed to be that to simply be is neglected. The entire procedure of my egoic mind is to continue making an identity out of the should be. That's the ism at it's finest.

When I write a play it's not enough to simply write the play. I need to consider all of the implications of what the play should be to others. I'm not even allowed to write the play. You get this drift? However, when I write this blog I have very few considerations of what you think of this (probably because nobody's reading it). But nobody is reading my play either. But they might. That's the fear. They really might. And what strange fallacy I hold about the nature of drama. I enjoy my plays. I would like to write more. But I cannot deal with the massive stream of intensely energetic negativity that my mind enforces. It won't let me write. By that I mean it won't let me be.

Of course that's not it's job. It's doing it's job by attempting to stop me from leaving it behind and moving into my larger self. It can't let go because it can't live without time. The larger me is the only me that is real but the entire job of the egoic mind is to stop me from entering into that relationship at all costs. The bottom line is that I have built a hugely false identity out of my acting/playwrite self, primarily because of my fear of what others will say of me in person. I haven't spent the same amount of time developing a blog personality that is equal to this.

The key is to bust any false identity and to experience worth now, the only place where it exists. Then when I get to write or act, or pursue it again, I will do it with less grim determination and with more presence. It's the only optimum way to live, I think.

Watch the movie.

www.theinterviewwithgod.com

I am consistently amazed at how quickly I defer to intolerance. It is a constant source of amazement to me that, without my consent thank you, my mind becomes your judge and jury at the same time. I am fascinated with how fast my mind makes final decisions on you and yours based on some perceived slight that you might have indicated with your eyes. A troubling glance that may have absolutely nothing to do with me whatsoever but I just happen to be in the way of it. You see, once you've done that TO ME, then IT'S ON! Dontchaknow?

I then, by way of mentation, have extrapolated your inferiority and separateness from me and I now recognize you as a threat to my very life. I begin a quick search of my data banks and find that YOU are the problem. The fact that you don't speak english, that you are a woman, that you are different, that you don't smile the way I would like, that you are too fat, that you don't listen, that you make mistakes and expect me to be perfect, the fact that you haven't invited me into your world and made us one, the fact of my alone-ness and lack, the insidiousness of my alienation, the corporeality of existence and imminent oblivion, the lack of self, of God, of love.

This is my mind. It welcomes you.

 

What's up with that?

When you take away all definitions of who you are you are left with a very scary thing: nothing. But this isn't the nothing that I've been afraid of all my life. This is a nothingness that is that which encompasses all of something. Without this nothing there would truly be nothing. This is the backdrop against which all things manifest. Once you recognize that place as the eternal truth you are left with some very hard questions.
What do I do now that my acting career is pretty meaningless?
What happens now that a smokey babe won't fix me?
What is the point of it all?

These are not so easy questions. And this is not an easy place to be really. I have spent my whole life establishing an ego that is built by the bricks of these things. What the heck am I going to find when I remove the foundation?

Well, I'm really not so sure at the moment. They say that it is "the end of suffering". That's what the Buddha says it is. But he doesn't tell you what it is, only what it's not, the end of suffering. That means I have to find out for myself. That means that all notions of mentation are hindrances and that the solution lies in understanding who I am. The egoic mind is relentless in presenting a steady stream of notes to prevent us from being in that total stillness, that silence that is Now. It is absolutely terrified of losing control. It refuses to accept what is, is chronically looking for one thing or another to flit to in hopes that it won't be "swallowed up" by the present moment. It is hopelessly identified with itself and preserving it's own particular brand of survival.
the truth is much more beautiful, I suspect. But there is a very persistant automated pain-body that is automatically activated if I get to close to this letting go. I am now dealing primarily with that insidious fail-safe system. Now that I am on the road to surrender, the swirling demons of my past and hideous dragons of my future are besetting me on my road to home. They are very convincing and as I have remarked, "I just hope they don't take my body before the miracle happens".
They are insubstantial phantoms that are sent away by your presence. The suffering is the final pangs of the ego letting go. Hang on.

Absence makes the heart grow fatter

You can assume that if I have left the airwaves for an extended period of time that it normally means a bout of depression. I guess that is what I have been going through over the last, well, since May 17 (my last entry).

What has changed so drastically to make me neglect my canvas of the soul? (How New Agey) Nothing in particular. All systems are still operable and are go. But I have been keenly nagged by this unrelenting sense of the human race as very very dangerous. That, in fact, most all human beings are not to be trusted whatsoever, and that it is best if I stay very far away from all of them. I know that this is yet another of the instructions from the ISM, however. I mean, not all people are completely hideous. There are quite a few very lovely people. But I'm afraid that the disease of the mind (the illness of our time) has zombified most of the humans wandering about in a cacaphony of greed related fear and dismay and self glorified narcissitic embolisms. This has created an imperative of proactive agitation and a seek to destroy mission by the controller (the egoic mind) against all that is gentle and good in the world. More frighteningly it has become rather automatic and is sub-dividing like a virus. Well, in my mind the egoic mind identification is a viral meme that threatens all life on this planet. I have it quite virulently. But, fortunately, I have the andidote to it's perniciousness: the present moment.

However, I must choose to activate the andidote by means of awareness of the NOW. The more present I become, the less likely I am to spread the virus of past and future by immersion into the real. The virus then is stunned and slowed to a manageable progression by the archangels that live in the I AM eternity and the Ascended Masters become overseers of our lives. But, again, we need to ask for it. A simple feat indeed but one blocked by one of the most powerful aspects of the egoic meme: guilt and need for control.

More later on this Elizabeth Clare Prophet network.