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Saturday, Sept 23


JIVANO:

Imperfection is the makeup we put onto the face
of truth, because we are having ideas about how
the Beloved should look like.

I once met a man with shining eyes and a laughing heart.
He told me he had had the best teacher possible:
his father, who was a drunkard and used to beat him
up without any reason.

"The best teacher possible" - he meant it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

BETTY:

In South Africa, a lot of white people I know go now go around saying
"I've
never been a racialist, but..." before launching into complaints about
black
rule. My reaction is : Wow! They're in such denial! Wow! I'm not
like
that!! Wow! I could teach them a thing or two, come to think of it,
I
could become the new messiah!!!
Altogether more sobering to look inside and realise, I too am that.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

VICTOR:

Beloved friends,

Sometimes I feel like a motherless child.
Sometimes I feel like a motherless child.
Sometimes I feel like a motherless child.
A long way from home,
A long long way from home.

May you all find your way home,

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

MICHAEL REED:

The tears you shed
Lie as pearls upon the grass.

Turning back to glance
Seeing where you've been
Your pearls lie there
In the endless dew.

A string of beauty lost
Among all the pearls
Dropped in laughter and pain
In the garden of reality
On the dawning of your day
Your day of awakening.

Now the early dawn holds promise
In the shimmering air of your dream
The light strikes out and across
The dewdrops shout with joy
You shout with laughter
A crow calls out just to join your heart
A smile is on your lips
Knowing you've never left your home!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

GENE POOLE:

Now I am reading this, and where does it lead, I am beginning to
wonder, as I follow this sentence as it wraps around in this window
on my computer screen.

I see these little letters, words, sentences, paragraphs, and I look
and read and I am finding some meaning now, but so far, not much
meaning, just a lot of words, talking about words and reading.

But now I read this special meaning, which is to alert me to listen
to whose voice is speaking very quietly in my 'head-space', which is
right behind my eyes and between my temples. Now this is getting
interesting enough to continue reading, I hear the voice saying as I
read this now.

As I read what is above, I became distracted by a confusion of
wording, I wish the author would let me read clearly what is said,
but I must also remind myself that I am somehow speaking this in a
voice inside myself, as I read these words here now.

So now I have to have my attention split; I am to read and also hear,
I hear this as I read it. But now I ask, what is this strange game,
which lures me to read, and to have my attention drawn to what is
going on in me as I read this?

Of course this is my voice I am hearing, but these words are now
speaking it for me... this is a bit strange. I have never before
thought of this, this happens when I read, I am now hearing, this my
own voice, being played by a word-list in front of me, which is this
that I am reading right now. It is like I am simply having thoughts
played through my mind, and spoken in my own voice.

Is it possible to read this and to NOT hear this voice? Here, let me
try it, now. OK; I am reading and for heavens sake, the voice is now
unmistakable. Huh! Now I am having some feelings, a little
impatience, I am perhaps a little irked, over the game that this is
playing. Like, does this think it can just take over my thoughts?
What is this, anyway?

Is this just some pointless prattle, an exercise in random
impressions, a redundant measure of supposed verbosity, which
ironically, is now my own? How can I even be reading this? To what
end is this leading to? Is there going to be a useful conclusion, a
cosmic lesson, a gratifying insight to be gained?

I see that for once, as I am reading, that the mixture of the intent
of the writer with the reaction of the reader, results in a kind of
mixture, which I have to sort out into some kind of useful or logical
patterns of meaning. Otherwise, why bother to go to the trouble of
reading this?

I have come this far, I might as well go to the bottom of the page.
There still might be something worthwhile, this guy usually has
something of interest to say, but I am wondering about him right now,
what is his game, his intent? Am I being led on and on, reading,
seeking something, without even a hint of what it might be?

GENERIC CONTEXT

Oh, now that is just a bit too much. I will not fall for that! No
sir. "Generic context", indeed! Who does this author take me for,
anyway... a simpleton? I cannot be commanded to simply 'have' a
context, by putting it in front of me, in words, can I? Or can I?
Yes, I am now immersed in this puzzle, but is there a solution?

And what in hell is a 'generic context'? What the hell does that
mean? Okay... that does it. I am skipping to the next posting! This
has gone on long enough! This is probably a complete waste of my
time, and it is barely amusing. Just slightly so. I wonder at the
effort put into this. Good lord, if I keep reading this, I will begin
hallucinating... why do I subject myself to this ongoing exercise in
futility? What is it that makes it important to keep going on, when
these words themselves reveal the nearly complete lack of any
significance in this entire 'message'?

At least I can thank this guy for helping me to keep my attention
focused. Hey, maybe that is it; this is some kind of exercise, or
maybe a test of some sort. Maybe there actually is an important
meaning to be found here, in this mass of words and sentences and
paragraphs.

Or perhaps not.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

ANDREA:

Talking from my personal
experience bliss is nothing that you could order or ask to stay.Bliss
gave me the hand to feel for the first time in my life. To feel
without explanations without reason. It pushes me into life, feeling
the suffering as much as the bliss.
I am right now in a state of having bliss as a part in my life.
Perfectly knowing that this is the opening of being human.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

HANS:

I experience blissful moments, coming from the point of clear seeing
of no-I of non-identification. It is a gift beyond words, as you
said, a very receptive state.
I experience it is becoming more, when I work on my personality
(integrating denied parts, feeling shame etc).
So the non-identification, the bliss for me is THE possibility to
free my confused wounded trapped psyche (which is still there, the
belief-systems, the judgements, the unreleased hurt).
What a blessing!

Alcohol is a poison to numb out your capacity to feel and to create a
certain kind of drunkenness.

So blissful drunkenness and drunkenness created by alcohol are vastly
different.

As I come from an addiction background (addiction means for me the
decision not to feel certain parts and to replace the lost exstacy by
something artificial, or by exaggerating an natural body sensation,
like sex), I am aware that from the point of addiction I will misuse
anything not to feel.
Also the new found freedom.
And I am dead sure, that I will loose it that way again and it will
throw me in even deeper agony, because now I know how life can be
experienced.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

TIM JANE:
.
I am is looking at a screen, that sreen is the world and the
world is
in me.
I have been watching- Pure observation.
I have never been anywhere.
I have never done anything.
I never existed.
I am.
I have been fooled
Im in the world also, im involved, i play a part in my wholeness.
I thought you were seperate from me, and most of the time i still
do.
I forget, i identify, i get lost, i suffer, i complain- but
remember, how
fortunate are those who re- member, start coming back into wholeness.

Without the stillness theres always identification and reaction, with
stillness there is pure observation.
I blow my own mind!
Only glimpses, Only glimpses.
Most of the time there is seperation and denial.

Where does the world go when im asleep at night?
I wake up, the I pops up and there is duality.
Humanity! whats it about? the other, but there is only self.
From my human limitations there appears to be, i forget.
I am human, let me be human . Im always trying to get out of my
humaness.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

MELODY:


I remember, as a high school senior in Albuquerque, NM....
black Americans were rioting in the city. I remember listening
to the radio telling where the riots were progressing, and
hearing that they were only a few blocks from my house.

I remember thinking that I as about to 'pay' for the
sins of my fathers. Even at that moment, fearing for
my safety, I never once felt that I had done anything
to be ashamed of.....nor to feel guilty for. And at the
same time, I empathized with their rage. And I understood
that anything that would happen to me in the minutes and
hours to come would not be 'personal'. I understood
even as a teenager, that this 'energy' had been set in
motion many decades before, and was looking for
'reconcilliation'.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

JEAN & JAN:


JEAN:

There is love in everything that comes my way
even if it looks strange sometimes. It's my creation and is exactly
what I
need for going further on my way. It's always the perfect teaching.


JAN:

This will be a great help for those, not yet experiencing things this
way: they still have to find the perspective, from where everything
can be seen as the play of Love. Once it is seen, one cannot stray
anymore...

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

JUDIT:

Dear Hans
how refreshing your words around getting stuck in bliss and getting
stuck in
alcohol. I have been stuck in both, and I think the bliss is more
tricky,
more subtle than the alcohol. To feel the feelings instead of
"shooting off"
in a "spiritual high oh YEAH! thats what I want to learn about,
getting into
the "basement" and drag the ghosts out - and see that that's not who I
am.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

SAMMY:

I once went to a circumcision, my brother's - I was 11.
He was screaming his head off; there is no anesthetic.
I almost threw up and had to be led out of the room.
No women were there - not allowed!
I didn't question what went on but I knew it was wrong.
What hope to treat others with respect
if that's the way 8-day-old babies are treated

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

ANDREW:

We all live on land that has been stolen many times, practically
without exception.
Humans war, kill, and steal. We have done so throughout history and
undoubtedly
throughout prehistory. We continue to do so today. It could be that
the main reason
slavery has nearly disappeared is that it's inefficient; if you own
slaves you have to
feed and house them even when you have no work for them. It's just
more efficient to
set up a factory in a third world country.
Identifying myself by any criterion; species, sex, race, nation,
religion, iq,
language... any imaginable criterion... is to fall out of present
awareness, out of
grace, out of the garden, out of innocence. to choose delusion over
reality. I must
remember the past, not identify with it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

JIVANO:

I think to look at only the shame is
missing something. So I feel like adding
some clarifications from my point of view:

Shame is a feeling, when I start seeing myself.

The real thing which heals, is seeing myself.
And not just once, but again, and again and
again. And to do so, I need to be determined
to look at anything however good or bad it might
be in my (or the other's) opinion.

The empahsis on shame has some taste for me -
as if the people looking at their shame try
to become better through that. A kind of Satsang-
therapy, a kind of "work" on oneself. And
- I say it again - a very fine but nevertheless
substantial motivation to become better
through this work.

So shame is just a byproduct for me
(of seeing something about myself).

> It is again that the gold is
> hidden in the mud: and to allow the
> shame to arise and be felt also
> allows the gold which is behind to be received

See what I mean?

What if there is just mud and no gold?

Nothing to be received - didn't you get
enough?

My toilet need not be made out of gold
so that I clean it. Just to be as I am
is enough for me - more, more, more
than enough.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

MARCIA:

My husband gave me a card once which on the
cover was a porch with a swing. It was in peach
color and browns and white. It said that he sits
across the porch from God and thanks him for
giving him me.

Right now he is playing the Movements music.
It has a timeless quality. Gurdjieff would play
the harmonium after meals and people would
be transported into this timeless space.

I am right now transported to the the Movements
hall doing these sacred temple dances with my
essence friends. Such emotion is evoke;
great joy and love. And groupness;
camaraderie; love and universal understanding and
joy. Fine energy indeed.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

ELLY:
Of course there were always wars in history. And in one way or other
land was stolen. But can this be an excuse to do it again and again?
For me there is no way to hide. I am responsible.

I can see that native people have a connection to their land as their
mother. We have lost our roots. And connecting again is also meeting
the past history in myself, in my lineage and feel it.

I have made the split in the last 30 years. I wanted to become
spiritual, to come above what is happening in the daily life, the
wars, the torturing, how the earth is treated. But in this I have cut
myself off from my humanness. I am living here on this planet to
experience and in living with responsibility it is my believe that I
can also change something, or change can happen.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

SARLO:

In all this discussion of shame i wonder if something has gotten lost
just
because of the different ways we use words. I understand what Melody
means
when she says she doesn't feel shame about the crimes of "her country"
but
i don't think it's so easy to dismiss the ones that do feel shame by
simply saying, "Oh, these are your ancestors' crimes, not yours."

For one thing, the crimes -- perhaps not genocide now -- are still
going
on, in Germany, Canada the US and all over, in a reduced form, in all
kinds of race-based societal problems, even if i am not directly
participating. We *are* all participating via the collective
unconscious.

Perhaps a different example: When i first read about female genital
mutilation in Africa, it made me weep. (I am not much of a weeper in
general) It could be said that i was just "feeling their pain," (which
i
also don't do much of in general) but i believe there was more to it
than
that. There was shame as well. Not that i did it to them -- and in
fact
many of the perpetrators of this system are women, doing to their
daughters and others' daughters what was done to them -- but i felt
myself
to be participating as part of the collective unconscious. As long as
i
remain to some extent unconscious i will be continuing to support the
collective barbarity.

There's nothing to do about it except keep looking, watching, waiting,
feeling, processing, celebrating when i can, etc, so okay. But i think
the
phenomenon of shame is deeper and wider than the fairly political
realm we
have been considering up to now.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

MICHELLE:
I also feel the importance of looking at/into the "dark side"
again and again, seeing that it is not "outside" but recognising it
as "in me".

To take and accept hate, anger, dismissal etc. seems more difficult
than to accept peace, love, joy. I find myself again and again
resisting the monster in me. If I stop resisting and allow myself to
feel it totaly, the feeling dissolves immediatly or looses at least
the energy that is bound in restistance. The atention is then free to
go elsewhere. And the pain and suffering is coming from the
resistance and not from the feeling itself. That's what I find out
everytime I look closer. And I decide where I want to have my
atention.

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