Enlightening Nonsense

There is a reason why if Jesus happened to drop in for a sermon or parable or to heal some dead guy you would probably tell him he was blocking your light and to kindly fuck off. It is because you haven’t ”the eyes to see and the ears to hear” and without these two items, you can read and quote your Bible all you want but you’re still a blind, deaf mute.

And so we have people through the centuries talking about Jesus, quoting Jesus, putting dead depictions of Jesus on their walls, flogging themselves, giving up sex, killing others and molesting little boys in the name of Jesus and yet they don’t have the foggiest idea of the man they are littering their lives with more so than a teenage boy does with porn. At least the teenage boy feels some joy as he shoots his load; all a Kristian feels is guilt over anything that is pleasurable or fun and inferior.

All these phony Kristians follow fairy tales that keep them feeling miserable and unhappy and never bettering themselves because the church has taught them that suffering is somehow useful because, after all, “Jesus did.” I think they would even answer the question, “If everyone was jumping off the bridge, would you do it?” with “Well, if Jesus was doing it I would.”

And, contrary to all the New-Age mantra about “being in the NOW,” Kristianity is based on the premise that the NOW is of no use other than acquiring fantasy real estate in the Disney World in the sky, the best way being to either convert heathens or at least make clear who the unrepenting sinners are who will be burning in Hell for eternity. Personally I rather jerk-off. And at least Penthouse Forum doesn’t contain all the “thees” and “thous” to feign pious.

“Why are you so hard on Kristianity, Swami X?” I think most organized religion is of little use for growth in consciousness and is only useful in growing egos and church funds. But Kristianity is probably the worst offender of arrogance, brainwashing, sadism and sociopathy–which I would have no problem with if it didn’t try to pass itself off as something holy and noble. And the reason I am speaking so harshly against Kristianity is because in America it has been the biggest “sin”–Hebrew and Aramaic for “missing the mark”–over anything else, from alcohol and drugs to homos and Moslems.

If I were in an Arabic country, and desired to end my life within sixteen minutes, I would speak against Islam. In a Hindu or Buddhist country I would point how how ridiculous their prospective religions are, regardless of the fact that someone even mentioning, “I’m a Buddhist,“ makes the room fill with hushed whispers of, “He may be going to Hell, but he sure is spiritual.”

Fuck Jesus. Fuck Mohammed. Fuck Krishna. Fuck Buddha. Fuck Yahweh. And fuck you if you are offended by this because your “offense” just shows your conditioned mindlessness, that somehow you feel the need to “defend” your idol of worship, that he/she/it is so powerful yet would somehow be hurt by the words of a rebel yogi who rather burn in Hell for eternity than be a whore to one of these pimps.

Buddha went from royalty to being a renunciate and then preached renunciation, so as a result everyone thinks that it is somewhat “sexy” to renunciate life. They don’t realize that he only renunciated life after he had experienced all the riches his royal birth had allotted him, all the women his pimp father had provided for him, everything of luxury. Read Herman Hesse’s Siddhartha for a great fictional account of experiencing all of life, from renunciate to gambler, before coming to a point of true understanding of Self. 

True renunciation is just a higher rung on the ladder that can not be gotten to without first stepping on the lowest step of indulgence. Instead of risking climbing and falling, all these fools talk of avoiding the ladder altogether and pretend they are anything more than cowards who are afraid to fall and “break their wittle arm”; they will never climb to any height, despite fooling all who have been conditioned to think that, “Poor is the new rich.”

Renunciation before experienced and only then realizing that all the “good living” doesn’t bring you happiness is as stupid as someone declaring that they are now a celibate when everyone knows they couldn’t get laid in a leper colony. I find it equally laughable how not a single “Buddhist Feminist” seems to mind that at age 29, Siddhartha left his wife and new baby with not much more than, “So long. I’m off to find myself.” I wish this same fate to all of you “Buddhist Feminists” and suggest you say to your flakey husband, “Go with the wind, my beloved. May you find what you seek. I will give up my life to stay at home and raise our child.”

Buddha also said that after he died he didn’t want any statues of him being erected (unless they had him portrayed as having a 14″ schlong always in proportion to the body) and you can’t go to any Buddhist temple in the world without seeing an oversized, huge-cocked statue of Buddha.

Hindus talk about non-violence and yet in the Baghavad Gita, essentially the Hindu Bible, Arjuna says he doesn’t want to participate in this bloody war with his relatives over the kingdom and Krishna tells him, “Stop being such a pussy and fight!”

Moslems have studied every little trivia about their prophet, Mohammed. They know what he ate, how he wiped his ass, and what qualities he preferred in the camels he fucked. They believe that by watching the outside of a man they can know what is on his inside. They even have the nerve to say that “Koran” means “Peace,” while justifying “wars against the infidels” and making their women wear bee-keeper outfits so that the “almighty” random man won’t be “tempted,” in the same way that Christians make sodomizing a small boy a holy act of communion–in this case, communion of a sociopath priest’s dick with a small boys asshole.

Mohammed, too, said don’t focus on me when I’m dead and yet a Mohammedan cannot say his name without following it with, “Peace be upon him.” This can get extremely annoying when trying to have a discussion with an Islamo: “Mohammed, peace be upon him, was at the store. The shop keeper said, ‘Mohammed,’ peace be upon him, ‘What are you buying today?’ Mohammed, peace be upon him, said, ‘I want a nice tunic with my name, Mohammed,’ peace be upon him, ‘Embroidered on it.’ The shop keeper said, ‘is Mohammed,’ peace be upon him, ‘With one or two M’s?’ Mohammed, peace be upon him, said, ‘Three M’s, of course, as everyone spells Mohammed!’ peace be upon him.”

In the book In The Footsteps of Gandhi: Conversations With Spiritual Social Activists by Catherine Ingram, there is a foreword written by Arun Gandhi, grandson of Mohandas Gandhi, where he tells of a woman who wrote him a letter in which she said she wanted to be just like Gandhi and asked, “What did Gandhi eat?” Arun said how Gandhi didn’t eat much but tasteless crap and that, like a Mohammaden who fucks only “the chosen camels,” you are missing the essence of Gandhi if you only focus on what he chewed and swallowed.

Speaking of “The chosen camels,” “the chosen people,” which would be accurate if this meant, “chosen to run all discount electronics warehouses in New York City,” are full of shit. Like the other two monotheistic religions, Islam and Kristianity, Jews say there is only one supreme God. They also have a nice tale of a golden calf with the lesson that no one should bow down before any idols. Yet they themselves bow down to an idol, regardless of whether he is an invisible, personified one in the sky.

I was raised Jewish, which gives me the ability to rag on Jews in the same way that a black person can use the word “nigger” with the response being, “Oh, that’s cool. He’s black.” “Did you say, ‘black,’ mother fucker?? He’s an African American!” “My bad, nigger.” When I have gone back to services, solely because some relative who is my father’s brother’s cousin twice removed’s daughter is having a bat mitzvah, the services are nothing but, “I bow down to the Almighty God. I am a piece of cow dung. He, blessed be He, is the shoe that steps on me.” And Jews never like to talk about how in the name of religion they kept the women from sharing in any of the deeper Jewish teachings besides, “Be fruitful and multiply.”

Okay, so now that you see I am an equal-opportunity religion-hater, let’s go to the Grand Wizard of Klutzy Koo-Koo’s (KKK), Kristianity [inspiration for new spelling from the 60s radicals who started spelling "America" with a "k".] Instead of ragging on all the ridiculous leaps of logic–actually not leaps but complete  abandonment–I am going to focus on how Kristians claim to “have a relationship” with Jesus and yet they still don’t know that his last name isn’t “Christ.” “Mr. Christ, party of thirteen. We only have one table that can accommodate you and I’m afraid you’ll all have to sit on the same side of the table.” “Fuck it, we’re hungry–just keep that prick with the canvas and paintbrush away from us. Judas, I don’t know where you got those thirty silver pieces but you’re picking up the tab!”

If you take out the Fable of Jesus: the immaculate birth, the “died for your sins,” the resurrection, the Savior, most so-called “Christians” would jump ship quicker than they could say, “In the name of the Pop, the Bastard and the Spook.” Jesus would just become a homeless hobo who said a few nice sayings. ”Be good to people”…”Forgive people.” Probably could have the Self-Help Book of the Month if Oprah were willing to bang his dirty hippie self like she has Eckhart Tolle. Not much more.

Yet to me, if you take away the folklore he would not lose a single iota of his greatness. In fact, I really wouldn’t think all the miracles were that big a deal if God came down to Earth in the form of a man and performed them. “He created the whole universe and, what–he also turned some water into wine? That’s like a friggin’ children’s party trick!” But Kristians are in love with the STORY and not the MAN, despite their crosses and “Hail Mary’s” and all that ritualistic crap. Go on, Kristians, take away the fantasy and how many of you wouldn’t think, “Hey, what’s that fat guy’s name? Buddha? I think I’m groovin’ on him!”?

The Old Testament can be summarized up in one line: “An eye for an eye and don’t fuck with God who is a vindictive, insecure, jealous prick.” The New Testament can be summarized in one line: “You’re a sinner, forgive and pray to Jesus and you won’t have to take any self-responsibility for your condition.”

I look at the Ten Commandments and wonder were people really that thick as to think the Ten Commandments were anything novel? THOU SHALL NOT KILL. “Gee, I never knew taking a human life was something considered wrong.” THOU SHALL NOT STEAL. “So you’re saying taking my brother’s donkey is a bad thing now?” THOU SHALL NOT FUCK THY NEIGHBOR’S WIFE. “Wait a sec. I totally didn’t expect that one.That’s wrong too??” But the people back then needed strict rules “from God” in order not to let their animalistic behavior of killing, eating and fucking everything in sight to take over what we consider common sense. But remember, even much later than times when people listened to what a burning bush told them and didn’t think, “That’s some crazy shit we smoked!” Voltaire said, “Common sense is not so common.”

Jesus came to share his love and teachings in order to create an INNER ALCHEMY in Man. When you honestly feel that you are “all one” then how can you kill? How can you steal? You are only harming a part of yourself. You don’t need any “rules” to tell you this. It is SPIRITUAL ANARCHY in the highest form of expression. You can heal or pick some corn on the Sabbath without having to refer to a “commandment” and wonder, “Wait, it says I’s gots to honor the Sabbath–fuck the cripple, I’ll leave him where he is.”  Jesus was a total rebel–and why I dig him so much! 

Even the language gives us a clue: the old teachings were not teachings at all but “commandments”–I am commanding and you just follow. There was definitely some inspired wisdom in The Old Testament, such as cycles of growing crops and returning land to its original ownership after a certain amount of time, but it was not about changing anyone on the inside, only their external actions; it was about blind following, I suppose similar to what most call “religion” today.

What Jesus was sharing were teachings, from the heart, and when you fully merged with his teachings your heart would become your new teacher and take the lead, and you would follow gratefully, not begrudgingly like, “I really wanted to fuck my neighbor’s wife, I mean, she’s really hot! But I suppose if God commanded it, so be it.”

Forgetting the intentional manipulation and deceit that the Church played in order to take power and disempower the people, for I don’t want to be called the “C” word–”Conspiracy Theorist” you foul mouths–the problem came in that the INNER ALCHEMY never occurred and most are simply trying to apply nice little Self-Help advice using their old fear-based logic systems–which is an impossible obstacle to understanding and applying the teachings of Jesus.

So, like the yogis yamas or “restraints,” such as non-violence, you follow certain things not because “This is the way of a ‘good’ man” but because it is the only way your heart can function. You love not because her tits are just right or his schlong can keep you up all night screaming, “GIVE IT TO ME, DADDY!” but because you are so overflowing with love that the only thing you can do is to let it pour out of you and wash over everyone you meet. And you are ecstatic to share your love, knowing full well that by lighting another’s candle, your flame in no way lessens; it only makes the world a brighter place.

If I asked you how many of you have been in love probably everyone would raise their hands (I’m not sure why, as I am not the government and can’t see into your apartments and homes.) How many of you have loved in the way I described above? We see “self-love” as narcissism, because we have been conditioned to believe it is wrong and the only self-love we have grown to know is that which comes from the ego and not the heart. When we love ourselves so completely that we are all filled up–no more room–it is only then that you can graciously vomit your love on anyone and everyone you meet. How many of you love yourselves so completely?

So instead of truly loving your partner, your relationship is a codependent arrangement where you each fulfill certain roles. The interaction allows you to fill your tub with his or her tepid love and not focus on the holes in your tub where your own love hasn’t yet filled.

If your partner/lover/fuck-buddy told you, “I love you but I think for my own self-growth and consciousness it is best for me to leave you,” how many of you would treat him or her like a Buddha and say, “Go, my love. May you find what you’re seeking”? The same people raising their hands (uh, why?) are the same ones who say they don’t jerk-off. Even the Buddha was too much of a pussy to face his wife and baby and left in the night without a word.

That would be like me finding out I was fired from my last yoga teaching job by showing up to teach my class and seeing another teacher in front of the class and my name removed from the schedule–as opposed to by an email, which is a much classier way to be fired. But if you truly loved your partner, your heart would break not from your attachment to the other but from your overwhelming love and happiness, knowing that they were following their heart and their higher path.

I was in the Bible section of Barnes & Noble once and on one book saw something like, “Only in my name will you get into Heaven,” a quote attributed to Jesus. It was as if I was reading “Vamos a la playa” and my mind instantaneously translated it to “Let’s go to the beach”; it’s meaning was crystal clear. He was saying, “Only through the energy of Truth and Love like I am expressing will you reach your highest expression of consciousness.” It was only later that I learned that in Hebrew the word translated as “name” was shem, which also translated as breath, energy, spirit, vibration. Yet it is this same phrase that preachers who have devoted their whole lives to regurgitating hate in the name of “devotion to Jesus” use to convince themselves that some little tribal boy living on a remote island somewhere untouched by Kristian missionaries and has therefore never heard the story of Jesus, will be burning for all eternity in Hell. The little boy will be in good company–the Dalai Lama, Lao Tzu, Chuang Tzu, Mahavira, Buddha, Zarathustra, and of course I, as well, will be joining that innocent little boy for a good eternal roast. “I mean, if I had as small a dick as Mahavira, I wouldn’t have the balls to walk around naked like he did. Actually, that’s all you saw of his package with that small dick–his balls!” (Thank God, or rather Satan, that Don Rickles will be joining us down in Hell as the roast master!)

If you understood everyone to not only be connected but to be ONE, would you need some outside imposition telling you not to kill, steal, fuck your neighbor’s wife? Would you need some yoga poser teacher during her calisthenic class to tell you to follow non-violence, truth, non-stealing, non-hoarding/exploiting and (laugh-laugh) celibacy? Would you need some self-proclaimed “Buddhist” reciting the 10 precepts, which includes abstaining from “taking untimely meals,” “dancing, singing, music and watching grotesque mime,” “use of garlands, perfumes and personal adornment,” “use of high seats,” or “accepting gold or silver”? I, for one, can’t go a day without watching some grotesque mime while wearing a garland and sitting in a baby’s high-seat as onlookers throw gold and silver at me.

Jesus tells a parable of the workers in the vineyard. The owner of the vineyard says he’ll pay people a silver piece for a day’s work in his vineyard. He hires some people in the morning, some in the afternoon and some right before the day’s end. He pays the people who came last first; he gives them a silver piece. Then the people who came in the afternoon; also a silver piece. Then the people who worked all day; a silver piece. This last group was like, “That’s total bullshit! We worked all day and you paid us the same as the ones who worked an hour!” The owner of the vineyard said, “I told you I’d give you a silver piece for a day’s work and I did–which happens to be a good wage. What the fuck do you care what I decide to do with the rest of my money?” 

To modernize the parable, as only the elite who visit wine-tasting country will know what the hell a vineyard entails, let’s suppose you were at a restaurant with your codependent relationship. It is a fancy place that you decided to splurge and take him or her to because it is Valentine’s Day and you have to support all corporate holidays. As you are finishing the meal, the owner of the restaurant comes out and announces, “Because it is Valentine’s Day, my favorite made-up day of the year, I will pay for all of your meals–except for you two,” that “two” being you and your codependent. How would you feel? “That’s bullshit!” you would exclaim.

The owner would say to you, “Did you not enjoy your meal?” “Yes, it was the best meal I ever had, I just think that–” ”I’m sorry, when you came here, ordered and ate your meal, did you not expect that you were going to have to pay?” “Well yes, I just think–” “Why can’t you just be happy for the others who are now going to be super excited for the rest of their night because they received a gift they were not expecting?”

Why wouldn’t you be? Because without the INNER ALCHEMY it is just a bullshit story about how a “good” person is supposed to act when inside you feel totally different. Without the INNER ALCHEMY it is another “commandment” and whenever any of us are given a command(ment) we are like, “Fuck that bastard telling me what I can and can’t do–I’m eating the friggin’ apple!” and then you just feel bad for not being Dudley Do-Right.

The classic parable of the Prodigal Son, told in a modern way…One son says, “Pops, I don’t want to wait until your dead–I want my inheritance now.” His father gives it to him and he disappears and comes back in a week, broke having spent it all in Las Vegas on gambling and hookers and shots of penicillin. The father is thrilled to see his son back and orders the best gourmet raw vegan meal possible to be prepared. The other son, who stayed home and invested his inheritance wisely by taking it out of the American stock market and investing in foreign exchange and commodities, says, “Uh Dad, you are treating that fuck-off so great and I’m here and you never gave me more than frozen tofu nuggets. That’s bullshit.”

Without an INNER ALCHEMY, we can all pretend that we “get” the deeper lesson of the Prodigal Son, but inside we would be like, “It is bullshit. The screw-off son gets treated like a prince and the responsible one is treated like the jester.” On the outside we nod and smile piously, as if we understand. But we’re just fakers like all of the Kristian fakers before us. Because we haven’t changed. If we had and we were the boring, goody two-shoes brother, we would have burst into tears when our lost brother had come home, hugged him and offered him our inheritance as an expression of our overwhelming love for him and the fact that he is safe and back with us (and probably has some good whoring stories to share!)

Anthropologist and spiritual philosopher, Gregg Braden, in The Lost Mode Of Prayer (I know, “Gregg” with two “g”’s is totally gay) told a story how he led a group to a remote Tibetan temple somewhere high in the mountains where no white man had ever visited (a few brothers had made it up that way–apparently the first thing they said to the monks they saw was, “Nigger, we could sure use a drink of Ripple if you’s gots some.”) Braden saw a couple of monks chanting and he asked them, “What goes on inside of you when you are chanting?”

They said, “Nigger, let us finish and then we’ll tell you.” When they finished the monks smiled and said how the words of the chant were less important than the joyful feeling that they felt inside when they chanted the words. Let me repeat that: it was about the feeling and not the words. Yet in our poser culture, we see the outside and monkey what we see and wonder why after twenty years of chanting in some foreign tongue, we’re the same miserable pricks we were before we started.

A student recently wrote me an email about all the trauma she had experienced growing up, which was not a pretty picture. Because she is a “business” woman, one who has not experienced the INNER ALCHEMY to live the teachings of Jesus, what she thought was a sharing of herself was really only a business arrangement, thinking that she could buy sympathy with her currency of “suffering.”

She told me how she connected with Jesus, that because of all the suffering that he underwent only he could understand her suffering. Because she has not undergone the INNER ALCHEMY, and combining that with fairy tales and conditioning, she doesn’t realize that when one becomes enlightened, they drop their personal story, that Jesus was not his suffering or his circumstance. He was a beaming beacon of light that would not dim regardless of how much you wronged him.

Like Gandhi’s statement to the reporter who asked him to leave him a lesson and he replied, “My life is my lesson,” Jesus’ life was his lesson. Not fables about immaculate births and Saviors and “died for our sins” crap. He loved the ones whipping him and making fun of him as much as he did his disciples. That was the gift he was sharing. That was his lesson. And all the Kristians who claim devotion to this beautiful, loving MAN missed the lesson and instead idolized a GOD. And the result was that while their lives might have changed, their consciousness did not because INNER ALCHEMY doesn’t happen just by believing in Mother Goose hard enough.

And when you love the shem, then you can love Buddha, Mahavira, Mohammed as well–it doesn’t take anything away from your love for Jesus. In fact, if you can’t love these other enlightened souls, then you are just an idol worshipper and here is one point of agreement I have with the Jews: an idol is not God.

And with an INNER ALCHEMY you would see that while Jesus was the son of God, so too are you. And the sky is the son of God; and the turtle; and the flower; and the rock. A rose is God, and so are its thorns…a sunny day is God, and so, too, is a rainy one…and a volunteer worker for the hungry is God, as well as the ax murderer…the one who you praise when he helps you across the slippery street is God, and so is the one you curse who knocks you down and takes your cab.

“Unless love spreads its wings to the whole sky and covers all the stars, it remains imprisoned–an imprisoned splendor. Do not imprison your love, because that is your very spirit.”

–Osho, February 12, 1987, 8 a.m.

And you wouldn’t need to make up stories in order to feel special and whole, you would realize that the Truth alone is magical enough and that you were always whole–you just forgot.

When I teach hatha yoga, the physical aspects of yoga, sometimes it is for a good stretchy, exercisey workout, but more often than not, the physical yoga is just a skeleton for the real teachings I want to share. Most except the few who have been with me the longest, concern themselves with “the words of the chant.” I had someone after my last workshop write me, “I didn’t screw up so much!” proud of herself, as if this had anything to do with what I was teaching. Rather than bask in my shem, my breath, energy, spirit, vibration, they completely miss sharing me and the teachings that provides and instead focus on “getting it right,” on the corpse and not the spirit.

I wrote a girl from a raw food personals ad a quick email, not because I was interested in dating her but only because she had written something similar to what I feel about what will happen when I meet my soulmate. She wrote something like, “He will know.” I wrote her and shared with her my version: “She will remember.”

She wrote me back and told me how she dug what I wrote and she liked me. I wrote her back and asked, “Do you like me or your projected idea of who you think I am?” And this is also why no one seems to truly see me. You have your projections of what you think “spirituality” is and how it behaves and when I perform an action that fits into your concept, such as say something “deep” or “wise,” you think, ”Yes, I really like this guy!” But when I say something against your projection of what you want me to be with something brilliant like, “Fuck Jesus, he was a fag!” you think, “This guy’s a jerk. I don’t like him at all.”

I had written something that involved my understanding of reincarnation and she had written me back asking if I can give her an explanation of reincarnation that would satisfy her skepticism. I wrote back that that was the wrong question, that the real question was “Why would she need that?” for whether I convinced her that reincarnation was fact or fiction, it would have little to do with her living in the NOW. She took offense by this, as if I was not sharing my understanding, when what I was sharing with her was much deeper than some philosophical masturbation on spirituality. Needless to say, as predicted, the raw foods personal girl’s “like” for me quickly crumbled when she realized that she was in like with a fable and had never known me. Sounds like conditional love to me.

You never knew me to like me or not. Because I am not my words and I am not my actions and I don’t follow or believe your concepts of what are the actions of a saint and what are the actions of a sinner. That is why I can talk on the street to someone who served a decade in jail for killing six people, including his aunt who turned him in, and shanked a guy in jail who stole his clothes, paralyzing him for life, and feel my heart open and love for a man that you, with all your “commandments” and “yamas” and “precepts” would look at in fear and disgust. You talk of “union” and yet only consider allowing people who pass your standards to become card-carrying members. You talk of “Everything is ONE” and yet fast-forward parts of movies as being “less than” worthy of your ONE.

It is also why I am losing interest in teaching yoga and may choose, like Eckart Tolle, to just sit my ass down on a park bench. I am getting tired of being looked at, and judged, and punished or rewarded, based on rusty old innards that don’t have the eyes to see or the ears to hear me. I tell you that you’re full of shit and you can’t see that my love for you is just as strong as if I had told you how great you are.

I was a warrior in many lives and even in this one I competed in full-contact Chinese kickboxing for seven years and won titles. I have tried to push beyond my animal instincts, to raise my consciousness and raise the consciousness of those around me. But when I am dealt with like a commodity, with business dealings and people focusing on the minutia of who they think I AM, it leads me to want to retire like the messiah did in ”Illusion” by Richard Bach. Because unlike all the top psychics and healers and teachers I know who are unhappy–but that doesn’t fit into the ONE SPIRIT bliss they are selling–I don’t care to partake in your business dealings anymore. Great mystic or silent nobody, as long as I know WHO I AM, your opinion means little.

The last workshop I taught, one girl who was going to attend read this “un-blog” and decided that anyone who used the words “pussy” and “prostitute” had no respect for women and had nothing to teach her. First of all, “pussy” is a derivative of “pussycat” and means wimp–not vagina. And the day I have to defend using the word “prostitute” is the day I tell Jesus to “Beat it–I’m trying to read my Bible here!”

But this un-blog is another thing that people don’t get because they are looking at it through eyes and ears that only hear angel music and it can at times sound like a heavy metal/punk fusion. These pieces are modern day parables. For some it is just mindlessly entertaining. Or offensive. For those who work through it, they find certain bead of wisdom they might add to their mala necklace. For those who can go beyond the intellect, the “business” relationship, they may touch my shem and forget words and nice images and perverted rantings. Most won’t and most don’t.

This is why one who I considered a close friend would not make the effort when I called her one night at midnight to share something that shook me up, to read about my experience here because it wasn’t worth her sensitive eyes suffering through the vulgarities to share in the pain and understanding that I felt. This is why those who believe in me and the teachings that come through me haven’t shared this un-blog with anyone. This is why my mother read one piece and said, “I found it vulgar and not clever at all,” because as much as I have grown in consciousness, all she can see is my growth in stature. This is why people always give me advice about, “If you just tone the language down…” or ”Why do you have to offend Kristians?” or ”It would be more marketable if…” They don’t understand that these pieces are modern day parables with ALCHEMICAL principles weaved into them. And also that I am scared to share with the world WHO I AM while they still view the world in an unconscious way and disguise their lack of spiritual work with degrees and diplomas and books and workshops–all “practice” and no play–the very reason I never use the phrase “Your/my yoga practice.”

That is why the few times I’ve tried to intellectualize what I am trying to share with you, you have perceived me as insensitive or arrogant or delusional. Because it doesn’t work that way. Your mind says, “Oh, I get it. You want me to pour out my full cup so I am empty to receive” and I am like, “No, I want you to throw away your cup altogether, for you can’t ‘capture’ in a container what I have to share. But maybe you can experience it if you drop the concept of containment.”

My poetry is much easier for most to feel because it is not parabolic, in the non-math sense of the word, but very pure essence. I have been hesitant to share it with you because since you are caught up in the old trappings of “right” and “wrong,” “good” and “bad,” “clever” and “tasteless crap,” you will have no choice but to attach me to the poems and miss me once again. My poems are pure love and it would hurt me too much to have you limit them to the encasement of this MAN.

THE REFLECTIONS AND MEDITATIONS ARE EMBEDDED IN THE PIECE. Take the questions I asked as reflections and place yourself in the modern-day parables and use them as meditations.

 

“Just be here now–no need to understand. I am not a problem, neither am I a hypothesis. I am a living presence. Don’t try to understand me. Otherwise, if you love me you will feel baffled; if you don’t love me you will become my enemy. Those are the two possibilities of trying. If the friend and the enemy both can just be silent with me, understanding will arise on its own. It is a by-product of a silent communion. You don’t become knowledgeable, but you are so full of understanding.”

–Osho, February 12, 1987, 8 a.m.