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#1146 - Thursday, July 25, 2002

Moth Invasion, from fractals/collect/1999/ (link may no longer be working.)

from The Other Syntax list

Guardians of Eternity

The strange sputtering noise happened again. It seemed
closer and louder. I listened carefully. The more
attention I paid to it the more difficult it was to
determine its nature. It did not seem to be the call of
a bird of the cry of a land animal. The tone of each
sputter was rich and deep; some were produced in a low
key, others in a high one. They had a rhythm and a
specific duration; some were long, I heard them like a
single unit of sound; others were short and happened in
a cluster, like the staccato sound of a machine gun.
"The moths are the heralds or, better yet, the guardians
of eternity," don Juan said after the sound had

An Appointment with Knowledge
Carlos Castaneda



Here is an excerpt from an article by Emilie Conrad
called "Life on Land"

If Martians were looking at us through some interstellar
resonating device, I am sure they would marvel at how
our plnet has arranged us.

"Look, look," they would say, "Their bodies are mostly
water, and yet they move about the earth in this
apparently solid way."

"Just look at how each organ is maintaining its link
with all of its undulating strands."

"They are like fish out of water, but they carry it with

"How amazing these creatures are!"

I have worn a path searching for a spiritual link that
was not offered in the world around me.

My spiritual struggle and my theories of movement are
like the Caduceus-eternally ntertwined, facing each
other, falling into ecach other, then distancing for an
embrace later on.

The question i asked myself when pushed to the walls of
my own psyche, was in what unknown ways are we in
rapport with our atmosphere? And if we were to
experience this unknown "rapport", would it matter?

The question rose and fell. it made me tired just to
have it linger in my neural catacombs.

The question haunted me for years. From the tenements of
New York, to the huts of Haiti, to the Spanish stucco
of Los Angeles, the question grew more urgent.

In what ways do we commune with our biosphere? And how
would we know?

A voice comes to us, a pressure on a shoulder, a message
in a dream, a person in an airport--innocent moments
glistening like eggs in a sea of fertility. An idle
remark, a shadow from the eyes--an orchestration of
creativity takes place in the magical moments of the
unseen, between the lines.

Discovery takes place within a context of circumstances
in which mysterious forces guide us, prod us, and
invigorate our darkest moments.

The unknown is the invitation come enter come closer


Ramana: from Talk 146

Reality is simply the loss of the ego.
Destroy the ego by seeking its identity.
Because ego is no entity it will automatically
vanish and Reality will shine forth by itself.
This is the direct method.
Whereas all other methods are done,
only retaining the ego.
In those paths there arise so many doubts
and the eternal question remains to be tackled finally.
But in this method the final question is the only one
and it is raised from the beginning.
No sadhanas are necessary for engaging in this quest.


from K-list

Hi all
Paul I read your post on "waking life". I for one have
not seen waking life. But, there is a movie that
everytime I see it, I learn something about well my
path. "legend of Bagger Vance" I know its a golf movie.
I for one am not a big golfer although I have been known
to play a bit. I have watched it four times. The movie
has alot of deeper meaning, more so than one would
think just watching it once. I never before thought
that life was like a game of golf, and sometimes real
insight can come from a hollywood movie. But I look for
enlightenment anywhere I can get it. It is a spiritual
movie. Anyway, if your looking for a good movie to
maybe entertain and possibly make you think you might
wanna check it out. Just my two cents. be blessed in


from K-list

Dear Ami,

It's very interesting you found The Legend of Bagger
Vance deeper than most Hollywood's really
not about golf! It is the story of the Bhagavad Gita and
the "golfer" is Arjuna. Bagger is Lord Krishna. Get it?
-- Bhag-a-Vad -- Bag-ger Va-nce. ;-)


I should have added that one of my favorite, albeit
trite, movies is Time Bandits. Even down to the George
Harrison music at the end! Sorry...I loved it,
especially God!


If you've melted your desires
in the river of time, choose
to be a recluse, or choose
a family, the village job.

If you know the pure Lord within you,
you'll be That, wherever.

14th Century North Indian mystic


from Meditation Society of America list

Meditation technique

Namaste Dear One -

Best meditation technique........ in simply two word sentences:

Be Where These Point!!!!!

Shut UP...... (not to be taken in a domineering manner)

Be quiet.......

Stop Thinking......

Be Still........

Go Inward

Drop Nonsense

Be Aware

Totally Relax

Seek Nothing

Project Nothing

Chase Nothing

Find Nothing

Allow All

Be Love

Question Self

Be Here

Drop Illusions

No Concepts

Drop Conditionings

Surrender Ego

Open Heart

Stilled Witness



0 point

No Center

No Person

Beyond One

the ways and means are endless........ happy journeys to
no-where and everywhere........

Love shanti om ...g..


from Nondual Parent list

Dear Dustin and friends,

Greetings from the Blue Mountains, Australia. Having
only qualified as a parent by 9 days, and now awash with
joy, exhaustion and blessing of our son Bodhi, I'd like
to share some writing that emerged as an inutero father.
Its 1000 words long. The name we've taken from the
mantra of the Heart Sutra, which captures my experience
of dissolution into love as a parent now, and all the
wonder of Bodhi boy.

Gate gate, Paragate, Parasumgate, Bodhi. Sva Ha.

Gone gone, Gone beyond, Gone completely beyond, Perfect
wisdom.. awakening. So be it.

with love, Mohan.

The great story of the heart entering form. You have
been watching us and waiting. It cannot be an easy
return. We know you are near us. Dreams and omens herald
your arrival.

Walking the earth like a man who has lost his mind, his
bearings, his sorrow. I am to be a father. The mystery
and matrix of creation enfolding this love. It is you I
shall embrace, my teacher, my love, my heart… my child.

On the Cape in a scorched twilight of leaking turquoise
and grapefire, the world is euphoria of light, sound,
water and earth. News of the spiritchild comes at a time
of great change. I hear Al-Hallaj’s song in the wind,

“Between me and you

there is only me

Take away the me

So only You remain.”

I cannot speak with any authority of fathering. I am new
to this and easily overwhelmed. I am only ever more
certain of not knowing in the face of these mysteries.
And that I have been chosen as a father is perhaps not
so miraculous, yet within the ordinary grace and heroism
of daily life here is a gift that fills me with joy,
wonder and intimations of infinity. The blood and bone
of Being rapidly being formed now, spun in vortices of
love and light within this beautiful woman. Awash in awe
and gratitude, the sun falls into the shifting light. It
is all Her. This Light, this shimmering gold thread upon
the silky water pulling me into the heart. Don’t expect
me back anytime soon.

I can never forget Ben Okri’s searing words…”There were
always those amongst us who had just returned from the
world of the living. They had returned inconsolable for
all the love they had left behind, all the suffering
they hadn’t redeemed…And for all they had barely begun
to learn before they were drawn back to the land of
origins. There was not one amongst us who looked forward
to being born. We disliked the rigors of existence, the
unfulfilled longings, the enshrined injustices of the
world, the labyrinths of love, the ignorance of parents,
the fact of dying, and the amazing indifference of the
living in the midst of the simple beauties of the
universe. We feared the heartlessness of human beings,
few of whom ever learn to see.”

This mysterious world.

Winter light

Empty cloud

Across the jade ocean.

There are many perils to prepare for ensuring safe
passage to this realm. Before first breath is drawn.
Birthing units beyond major hospitals are being
pressured to close. Closure of birthing units is not
only a women’s issue, it is a family issue, a father’s
issue, a men’s issue. Here and now economic rationalism
is driving health policy under the rhetoric of
networking specialist services. Downgrading rural
hospitals to meet the heartless agenda of a social
policy that sanctifies cost savings as the priority,
rather than communities and human lives. Where is the
evidence for this rationalisation of these services? Why
at this intersection of the timeless with time, do we
abdicate control, and the evidence based success of

On most recent figures maternal mortality in Australia
is increasing from 10.1 per 100 000 to 13 from the years
1991-1996(NHMRC and AIHW) There is no political will to
prevent the obstetric cascade known as the caesarean
industry, with the obvious correlation between
increasing interventions and poor health outcomes for
mothers. In Qld in 1994-6 mum mortality was 18.2, nearly
double the national average. In the U.S. maternal
mortality according to the World Health Organization is
now higher than at least twenty other industrialised
nations. In NSW health this year 13 of 25 obstetric
registrar positions were filled for the seven-year
training. With the average age of Australian
obstetricians in their 50’s, and most approaching
retirement, the current lack of doctors willing to birth
due to fierce indemnity insurance costs intensifies this
crisis. When the spiritchild up to the age of 21 can
litigate against an obstetrician for poor university
performance due to a forceps delivery we are in trouble
as a community.

I look forward to those early moments of embodied being
as she is drawn from her mother. I will look into her
eyes and know eternity. It wasn’t long ago that all of
this was a dream. That such a meeting was possible. That
such a woman existed, family life, a home. All this
richness that has flooded me these past months only
blessing, only blessing. All dream and fragments of soul
swirling in the winds of destiny have brought me to this
moment. Mists rising in the shrouded forests, the taste
of snow on her lips, the smell of woodsmoke, forest
earth and nagchampa.

And somehow this little being is transforming me, before
we have even met. I am humbled by her beauty and her
majesty. This spiritchild will bring so much light and
love into this darkened world and divinise reality from
within it. I am melting with her, and all story
dissolves in the strength of this love. The spiritchild
invites completion as a male and an authentic father,
protecting and nurturing this sacred inheritance. How
can my heart not be broken open by this miracle? I am
freefalling through this event horizon of the soul.

Across the world are celebrations welcoming the return
of the spiritchild. Tribal people say it takes a whole
village to raise a child. No two people are up to this
task. In our culture of separation the nuclear family
attempts the impossible, and at what cost. In
traditional cultures men are taught by fathers and
initiated in the mysteries of presence and supporting
the mother. Here as a man I am only entitled to one week
unpaid paternity leave from my employer, yet will I be
back so soon?

So join with me my brothers at this moment in my life
and let us dance and sing together. Celebrate with me! I
am to be a Father.

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Nonduality: The Varieties of Expression Home

Jerry Katz
photography & writings

Search over 5000 pages on Nonduality: