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Jerry Katz
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#2057 - Tuesday, February 15, 2005 - Editor: Jerry




In response to the Happy Child excerpt, I hope all those parents and educators who want children to be well rounded human beings and grow up in a school that actively tries to protect the child from the marketing materialistic forces of American culture, know about Waldorf education. However, what amazes me is that there are so many spiritual parents who think nothing of sending their children off into a system (public education) whose only concern basically is producing unthinking consuming citizens who will work in jobs that offer little more than the means to buy all manner of things. Our children are in danger. protect our future!


Janaka Stagnaro


Editor's note:  "Developed by Rudolf Steiner in 1919, Waldorf education is based on a developmental approach that addresses the needs of the growing child and maturing adolescent. Waldorf teachers strive to transform education in to an art that educates the whole child—the heart and the hands, as well as the head." See 




Maurice Taylor  


The general sense of your position is that of an awareness (Spirit) of a series of Nows but that there is no awareness of the Ground or Absolute sense of a unity consciousness except as Spirit-Beings in harmony. The position of the Absolute, or Suchness, Ground and the like are reifications to you, and cannot be experienced. You seem to suggest that the Spirit-Being position is as far as one can go in terms of awareness. But I am saying something other than this, as you know. You are aware of the immediate here and now direct sense of experience but I think you tend to take flight into thought as a Spirit-Being as an avoidance of a more expanded Now. Part of this flight is in the subtle defense of exploring past lives as avoidance of unity consciousness or Suchness. The basis of the resistance is in maintaining the separation between Subject and Object, or between the Spirit-Being-Creator and the created. Not to maintain this separation is the big overwhelm, the inversion, the going blank or the unconscious position that reverts the Spirit-Being back into the universe of things; Unity Consciousness, to you is a fusion of unconscious mega proportions. I maintain that this is your rationalized defense and fear, and is your position of avoidance.

The ego position of the usual self has difficulty being present because it always interferes with thought which intrudes upon the present in some form. The more evolved Self position is more stablized in the Now and can see the passing here and now as a series of moments. Now the secret to dissolving your defense against unity consciousness is to see your resistance to it as such. Your very position of a separate Self is the resistance, and the activity of this Spirit-Being is the avoidance. This resistance is to a global Presence, in all aspects, an Eternal presence that is a Unity consciousness, which is the Whole (what you now term as a reification – or “nothing there to be known”). But when you avoid this Knowing, you participate in the first cause (so to speak) of this universe of time bound things (while still claiming to be Spirit). This avoidance (or conceptual denial) is the first movement from the Prime world of timeless Now to the world of a series of nows in subtle time. This is your separation as Spirit-Being, the Subject divorced from Object, the first division creating the duality rather than maintaining the conscious Suchness of Now; so your moments pass from now to now as a reduction of Now.

The Now of Suchness cannot be grasped by the mind, so the mind will say “reification,” “abstraction” or can’t be known. Suchness is here before the mind can grasp it, Eternally Here-Now. before Spirit-Being makes its exclusive separation into Subject from It. But this separate Being is now the resident resistor maintaining flight (and the first subtle movement of a pre-physical universe) from Eternal Nowness, stuck in a position where whatever it does is avoidance from Now-Suchness because it is the subtle separation, the subtle barrier-identity contraction where it does not see that both worlds are the same Source; the view of separation makes them different, experientially. Now-Suchness is resisted in the separation which is the tension between Subject and Object or that between two worlds; it is the imagined world of time or subtle time, past, present, future tensions or the tension between a series of nows and Now. But to surrender this tension-separation is to See Self and World as One, which is not to resist the Present (Now) but to embrace, not to avoid but to Know the Moment as It is, Eternally, even as the Separation of Subject and Object, or of Subject- Spirit-Being-Creator; Ocean and Wave, One, Eternally, non-dual Awareness.


Maurice Taylor  



A Complete Allegorical Manual on
Consciousness & Cosmos,

Vindication Sublime of that

Most Maligned Terrestrial Species




‘The Hog’s Wholey Wash









1: Earth & Elsewhere







2: Storms in a Multiform Teacup











(‘Doings’, DOINGS & Doings)

























First Charter



1:  Earth & Elsewhere











‘Realise, then,’ said the hog, ‘your unfathomableness with everything – your organic unfathomableness.’

    With that, the sty fell silent. The atmosphere was filled to capacity with charge, the air laced with a bitter-sweet fragrance from fresh straw and fresh sweat. Presently the humans began to leave, some with faces beaming and eyes twinkling, some looking aghast and acutely nauseous; some with a peculiar blankness, as if their whole sense of reality had simply been spirited away.

    Before long the sty was empty, and the hog settled down to get some rest. For a matter of minutes it slept soundly and deeply, then promptly it awoke. Soon afterwards, the humans began coming back into the pen, their faces showing further spins in a cauldron of feelings, as gradually again the sty became packed with people.

    The hog remained silent, looking around into the eyes of the humans with its gentle, penetrating stare, with ears pricked, snout proud, and mouth softly curled in a smile. Gathering up a little heap of straw as a cushion, it nestled down with its chin resting on its front trotters, gazing intently ahead as if at a most fascinating spectacle. Its eyes positively feasted, flitting every so often from thing to thing – the face of a human, the brickwork of the sty, drifting motes in a shaft of sunlight – as if all was of equal significance, equal depth of interest. Presently its eyes came to rest on mine. I juddered as if from a trance, while the hog’s smile cordially glowed.

    ‘So. You'd like an adventure would you?’ it said.

    I stood there speechless.

    ‘Let's see,’ the hog went on, ‘if I can afford you a little escape... to a bit more of yourself!’ It got up onto its trotters. ‘Follow me.’

    With that it turned and made its way to an opening at the back of the pen, disappearing into its darkness. I stumbled after it, getting down onto my hands and knees to get through the opening, in the grip of some powerful instinct and a kind of paralysis of thought – so much, too much, was there in the situation to be wondered at.

    I found myself then in total darkness, feeling the faintest warmth and moisture in the air, and sensing vividly the presence of the hog trotting off ahead. Not venturing to get to my feet, I continued scrambling on hands and knees, following the sound of the hog's sprightly steps over the firm earthy floor.

    The hog began humming, which made following it somewhat easier, and at a certain point its humming turned into singing. And it sang a little song, which, if I heard it correctly (I admit my attentions were chiefly focused on keeping up with the hog bodily), went like this:


           ‘Burning, sensitising, conceiving openness

            Active in the organic unfathomable

            Energising liberties, developing sensibilities

            Dissolving every door that's slammable.’


    Whatever it was, the only real impression I got at first was of a string of rather lengthy words sung to a rather lively tune, which the hog sang over and over. It turned out, at any rate, to evolve from a little song into an extremely big one, as regularly the hog would make a slight change in the lyrics and then would adapt the rest; in this way the verse went through a gradual and continual transformation, with a whole series of final lines expressing various approaches to the slammable, rammable, flammable and damnable.

    In the meantime, still engulfed in complete darkness, I scrambled breathlessly on, perspiring profusely – or, as some would say, sweating like a pig (or, as a pig might reasonably say, sweating like a man in a stew). As for the hog ahead, I couldn't say – and was little interested in – what levels of secretory activity its complement of sweat glands may have reached. I did wonder, though, at the physical sensation of warmth and moisture in the air that seemed to be growing, unsure whether this was just through me getting hotter and wetter, or whether in fact the atmosphere itself was. By and by a moment came, as it often does in such circumstances, when the sensation became unmistakable – it was getting hotter and wetter.

    It quickly became like a sauna, with the heat at first prickly and then stinging all over, my nostrils and throat soon burning in the unseen vapour, scalding as I struggled quite erratically to catch enough breath. More than a sauna, then, with the darkness and all, it seemed actually like a sweatlodge, a vast one in which I was undergoing some strange initiation ritual with the hog.

    With a precipitant feeling of breakthrough, of acceptance, as if I'd come to acclimatise, all at once the scalding heat ceased to trouble me and my breathing of its own accord settled into a steady, though very unusual, rhythm. Thereafter it either got not a lot hotter or I was just automatically acclimatising, as, continuing 'on autopilot' with the unaccustomed breathing pattern, I went on happily enough scrambling blindly through the vapour behind the hog – who, incidentally, was still singing as it scampered along, and seemed altogether in the very brightest of spirits.











In this peculiarly heat-tolerant state, my senses were somehow heightened, my sense of hearing especially. The combination of sounds I was generating myself came as greatly amplified, filling my ears with a vivid scuffle of acoustics, in amongst which beat the sprightly patter of the hogtrot. On top of this yet another set of sounds was discernible, quite distant, getting clearer by the moment – all slight variations of ‘oooep’ and ‘oooup’, like big bubbles surfacing in a liquid. Then hearing also trickling and the occasional drip, I surmised the source – which we were now closely approaching – to be some kind of spring; a hot spring perhaps, source also of this by now all-saturating vapour.

    The hog came to a halt. I drew up close behind it, dripping wet, intensely yet indifferently hot, remaining on hands and knees. A sudden thumping splash in front of me, accompanied by a great squeal of pleasure and followed immediately by my being thoroughly drenched in piping hot liquid, told me clearly enough that the hog was having a whale of a bathe.

    I slowly edged forward, finding my fingers thereby dipped in the brink of a pool; gingerly proceeding, I crawled and slipped into it, feeling a rush of exhilaration as my body flounced down into total immersion in fluid, with no solid foothold or handhold in reach. Great bubbles nudging up around me, with voluminous belching refrains, I floundered my way smartly to come up safe treading water (or what certainly felt like water). Lolloping at the surface, then, I picked up the pressure waves – namely sound, plus other bodily-sensed vibrations – of something swimming briskly towards me.

    ‘Nice, eh?’ said the hog, as it swam up. ‘It's the best way to get cooked I can think of!’

    It dipped down under the surface and started swimming around me, looping and figure-eighting round my legs, rolling and bubble-chasing (so far as I could feel or figure from the pressure waves reaching me) – it then moving off a little way to just frolic amongst the bubbles, punctuating their ‘oooep’ and ‘oooup’ with its own merry, watery ‘oink!’

    As the hog came up for breath, its remark about getting cooked came back into my mind, and I noted it as either a not particularly amusing joke, or.... what? A bit of a funny thing to say, in any case.

    ‘Cooked... ?’ I ventured uncertainly.

    ‘Mmmm,’ returned the hog, ‘Doing fine thanks.’ And with that, it took another dive.

    Well bemused, and actually a tad concerned at my general slowness on the uptake, I heaved back a gulp of breath and launched myself downwards, making my way into the inky blackness in what I'd thought was the hog's direction. Unable to read any pressure waves distinct from those generated by my own movements, or those of rising gas globules, I abruptly turned and pushed back up to the surface. There I emerged with a gasp, as a steady stream of bubbles came swirling up from beneath, tickling my toes and coming bursting in a circle of pops around me, as then the hog came leaping out of the liquid right beside me, going over my head and coming down the other side. Compelled by some instinct to take up the chase, I dived after it.

    Thrusting again into the inky depths, this time I was hard on the hog's tail – and actually managed to catch hold of its curly stern and give it a little tug, which elicited a most exuberant gurgling squeal. Finding myself then turning tail as if to avoid some due retribution, I swam off sure of the hog being hard on my heels. A sudden ‘Oink!’ right in front of my nose thus caught me by such surprise as to completely take my breath away – sending me helplessly choking and spluttering, nearly drowning with laughter, back up for air. Flurrying aloft, coughing, gasping and groaning in relief, I remained bobbing up and down at the surface, buzzing and pounding with sheer exhaustion and exhilaration.

    Presently the hog surfaced in front of me.

    ‘No joke,’ it said, with a tone half-serious and half-mischievous; ‘We're in really hot water.’ It sniffed and snuffled. ‘We've got to get down to the barest bones – and this should boil us down to them pretty quickly.’

    Lurid images welled up in my mind, of pale boiled flesh sloughing off our bodies to leave us as two swimming skeletons, as then a delicate tingling sensation went right through me, coupled with a sense of lightening, of in some way rapidly getting lighter and lighter – a liberating, profoundly uplifting feeling sweeping through my whole system. In the wake of this, I felt myself somehow disengaging, lifting out from my well-poached body of flesh and bones, and going not simply upwards but some way quite indeterminate, seemingly all ways at once; best describable perhaps as like both expanding far outwards and falling deep within at the same time. What could a candle tell of the 'feeling' of its flame flickering out? I couldn't say. But maybe it would have something very subtle in common with what registered in my consciousness when, hearing a snuff, a sniffle, and a belch of bubbles, all with a strange echo as if being sounded in a dimension fast fading into the distance, I slipped willy-nilly into an absolute blank.











From a blank, I suddenly became aware of my awareness, finding myself in a state, in a world, of an altogether different order of being.

    Instead of having a body in water or air and a mind kind of isolated on wavelengths, I seemed to exist as something more interweaving, merging, and actually composed of the same substance as the medium I was in; I felt literally 'in my element', yet in an element quite new to me. Strange in its nature as fire may seem to one on earth, still stranger and more primal was this that I was in compared to any earthly cavorting of flames – and there was only this primal strangeness, in me and all around, nothing else, nothing ordinary or understood to take as a reference point. All the same it did seem to share something of the character of familiar elements, being like a fiery, ethereal squall – consuming and self-illuminant, as if all I consisted of and all I was surrounded by was a furious fusion of consciousness itself.

    Little but ardent perceptivity, then, I continued digesting my situation.

    ‘Oi-oi,’ came a voice out of the blue – or rather from, through and into the blaze of this numinous conflagration; uncertain at first whether the voice was 'my own' or 'someone else’s', abstract and artificial as any such distinction did in fact seem, I became certain enough of its owner as it gruntled again.

    ‘Makes a hell of a change, doesn't it?’ it went on. Pausing as if to let the remark sink in, it then rhetorically added: ‘Or perhaps you find it more of a heaven… ?’

    ‘Actually,’ I began, about to express how I was finding the experience unspeakably awesome and unlike anything I had ever known before, except in so far as it struck me as the sort of thing I might have imagined it to be like in the midst of a nuclear explosion, as in the gravity-balanced self-contained form proper to a common stellar body, and perhaps to add that I didn't care too much for the slightly patronising tone with which I felt these rhetorical questions being put to me.... but I was so startled by the roaring blast and swirl of sensations involved here in simply uttering the word 'actually' that I didn't get further than that. I did have a feeling that there was no particular need to say all this in any case; and I did wonder what it actually meant to say or hear anything in this particular condition of existence.

    There then came a sort of yawning sound. A sound not unlike the kind made by humans savouringly stretching their arms after waking up from a good night's sleep. A gruntly sort of yawn, as proper to the porcine, accompanied by a crisp rustling – which could have been anything (anything that could rustle crisply, that is, in these particular conditions of existence).

    My whole attention was drawn into this sound, with the sensuous lucidity of one body being drawn into another, dissolving, the one engulfing the other, when I abruptly snapped into such a wakefulness, such a bracing clarity, that I was left stark with the sense that I'd just been 'dozing' for a while. It seemed that from a state, a world, of nothing but ineffably raging consciousness, I had lapsed, fallen into dreams, and had only now come back into realness, into reality; and the dreaming, so far as I could trace things back now, seemed to begin with the hearing of a voice. Alarmingly enough, then, a voice came again.

    ‘It does take some getting used to!’ It was the hog, quite definitely, full of beans as could be. ‘Transmigration, you might say, is easy,’ it went on; ‘Interdimensional travel, bio-forcefield transition, complete metamorphosis – any such thing tends to be so much beyond your conscious control that if it happens at all, it happens as if by magic. But just staying awake, on the other hand, always gets extremely tricky.’

    A swishing, crackling, shuffling noise followed; then the hog's voice rang once more out of the ineffable. ‘I tell you,’ it went worldly-wisely, ‘once you get the hang of this, you may well wonder how you ever managed with what you had before.’ It paused, as if purely for effect, or as if attending to something else entirely. ‘Then again,’ it continued, ‘it might make you wonder how you ever managed with it so badly.’











There was a combustive flaring and fluttering, and a moment later a shimmering radiant figure emerged before me – kind of ghostly yet vivacious, and with a magnificent pair of wings, it was the hog, beaming resplendently.

    ‘Eh-eh. That's a lovely pair of wings you've got there!’

    Just as this was said, and just as I was sure that it wasn't me that said it, an eruptive surge came overwhelming my every sensibility, and I found myself delicately suspended – sporting, getting the feel of, the lightest energy-form of a body (which included forelimbs evidently specialised as organs of flight).

    Flexing anything that felt flexible to try to get myself some bearings, it quickly became clear that there was just the scantiest, flimsiest difference between this body and my surroundings, in all still little differentiating my very 'self' from my 'environment' – hardly more, in fact, than an idea, or flow of ideas, superimposed on this ineffable sentience. To stretch and start flapping my 'wings' here was but to wish and find myself moving, mingling, in a way that the word 'flying' barely begins to describe. Otherwise this will-o'-the-wispy body simply hung lambent, so to speak, hovering over the background, threading in and out in an intricate dance with it; a dance in which perceiver, perceived and perception itself continually entwined and mutually absorbed into one seamless pulsing being. Divine as it might sound expressed in such terms, far from any supernal bliss it was all shatteringly physical, experienced as nothing in bare fact but a tremendous sentient storming, a rage turning in on itself with the utmost speed and violence – like some everlasting, all-embracing, brawling bolt of lightning.

    ‘Right then,’ cracked the hog then, with an air of blistering dynamism, ‘Let's be on our way.’

    So saying, with the whole of my new body rumbling in resonance to its words, my angelic porcine 'host' in this new world took off – going I couldn't really say how and I certainly couldn't say to where, but all the same I spryly flew off behind it.




    Winging wispily wilfully along in this most interfusive of bodies and worlds, it came to me clearly that these things were not so much 'new' as newly-perceived – that they were in reality there before, and had always been there, as it were 'underneath' the old earthly body, 'behind' the old earthly world I had lived in, hidden deep in subtlety, as the fine eclipsed by the crude. And since, as was apparent, both that body had been jettisoned and that world left behind, my essential being was left free to attune to what, and where, I had been at another level of existence all the time – in an 'astral' body, in the 'astral' world to which it corresponded. This was all, of course, a theory, yet it did seem to fit with the basic facts of my experience; and as I strivingly soaringly spirited forth, with a sense of such potency and power in what raged through and all about me, I certainly began to wonder how I ever managed with what I had before, but then again wondered on the contrary… 

    It dawned on me then just what 'astral' really meant – that, in this, I was in the very psyche of the sun, amid the realms of a star's most elemental being, blowing a spectral tempest of a psychic solar wind, with galeforce thoughts, thundering feelings, and all but complete delirium of senses – on top of which I could only ask myself if my imagination was perhaps running away with me...

    … It seemed that it was, and that it wasn't; that my interpretations were in some respect arbitrary, fuelled by and fashioning a living experience that was in one way persistent, doggedly continuous, while in another way went through all kinds of phases; and just how far I might be pawn of illusion or adept of insight, surely only time could tell. And as this recognition went through me, I noted and followed as the hog swooped down sharply to one side and glided off like a rocket up ahead, blazing a trail as a veritable shooting star in the stellar, wherever exactly it was that we were in the cosmos.


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