mahakali

all sustenance involves the taking of life in some form,

so we enter into it with awareness and gratitude

for the dying that nourishes our living,

and when the time comes,

we give our bodies as an offering in return.

anahata

the heart traverses much in its journey

youthful exuberance gives way to experience

faith slips into the mysterious unknown

ecstatic peaks and the dark abyss

the bare desperation of the dying ego

brought down in violence by its own hand

glimpses of something more subtle

dreamlike just out of reach

by candlelight a path in the darkness

cuts through the here and the now

Into the Black

When darkness beckons, dive in to it.

The only loss is to avoid what you are feeling.

They all are parts of you in search of liberation, anyhow.

Nothing to fear, no need to numb the sensations, just down.

Now, feeling all the way, down deep, into the black.

Fall into Winter 2011

...to look through my own eyes, as though through every set of eyes that has ever been. (vaishnava expansion)

embrace your mental projections, the gods, the devils; embody all the forms, rich man, poor man, beggar man, thief. play, explore, dive in, on and to and through them all to that infinite expanse, the unmanifest, upon which we act, always.

i don't generally believe in prophetic language, but I do believe we create self-fulfilling prophecies. having said that, I wish the apocalyptic crowd a happy end of the world, and join in with the consciousness raising bunch in hopes for an uptick on the One Love spectrum. 2012, let's dive into it. yeah, it had been a tough year for Kenny, but he was damn sure gonna make sure it ended with a bang. one week to wring holy hell outta this teardrop universe, before the bottom dropped out o' things, and they realized he was the one left holding the bag. pool halls, beer joints, dolls and thrills, they all waited for him, just around the corner to eternity.

humming on these, the shortest days of the year, "here comes the sun, little darlin' and I say, it's alright", while trying to steer clear of the frenetic, consumer orgiastic moment.

three nights ago, an owl flew across the road in front of me. this morning it was a hawk, swooping down to grab it's prey, oblivious to the downtown traffic. so what sooth do you say, my feathered friends?

the anger, the frustrations...wait, let go, watch them floating, momentary panic, unfulfilled desires...slowing now, emptiness...injustices and self-inflicted pain, slowly, back to the moment...there, expansive space without limit, overwhelming gratitude, you can't get it wrong, you have as long as you need to work it out, peace.

night falls and traffic rushin' / electrons and booties bumpin'
all along the city streets / neon lights the night to keep.

last night a small snake glistened on the wet sidewalk below me. i watched as it coiled and uncoiled in fluid motion, and considered how it functions as an emblem of wisdom, or conversely evil and corruption, in various spiritual traditions. to me it looked like beauty personified: power, direction, elegance, grace.

as I walk to work downtown, along this section of sidewalk I like to pretend that I am walking along the edge of a building, and how it might feel different if I weren't afraid.

and so we find it, in the shadowy, winding alleyways: the heart festooned, a garland both beating and bleeding. if it is that we can look with eyes of compassion, a pathway opens, however slim, into the third noble truth.

liberation comes, not by blinding epiphany, but through a thousand million moments, trench warfare liberating one chakra at a time. here it is the Svadisthana that finds expression, the gut, center of feeling and connection. beauty resides there, flawed and vulnerable in the darkness, shining all the more in its proximity.

Middle-aged guy, looks like Napoleon Dynamite walks up to my office door, looks at the placard, and says "I'm Randall, I buy books". I thought he was a student, come to mock me. Then I saw the earnest look on his face, and the stack of books in his arms, and realized he was speaking the truth.

look inside, look outward, it is the same infinite universe in all directions. even now, we are just touching the surface.

outside rain falls steadily, for many hours now, inside wood floors are mopped, thoughts ebb and flow in the stillness, Johnny Cash on the radio.

watching the eight worldly conditions flip like coins through the air.

Purusha and Prakriti sittin' in a tree...

'what's next mr. riff', she says.

walking the beautiful wildflower strewn minefield that is 21st century earth.

if you want to feel the gravitation to and away from those nearest you, ask yourself which ones among them teach you to love, and you will know the answer.

Here's the last question and answer from a recent e-mail interview:

-If you could curate your dream exhibition, what would it consist of?

Let's see. A table or bench made by young Jesus the carpenter. A street art installation made by some kid who hangs out in Garibaldi Plaza in Mexico City. The carnival carousel that looks like a giant Chinese paper lantern. The most awesome school diorama ever which blends fact and science fiction. With a performance by an aging punk band that has traded in its amps for strange, handmade acoustic instruments and ambient sound.

Note to my egoic self: i have to chuckle at the lengths you go to draw me in, but i don't play the game anymore. i recognize your illusion and...this mental space is liberated. :)

looking back with eyes of compassion and experience, at all the effort, at all the desire, at all the mistakes, i know i'd smile at my foolishness, and do it all again.

Walkin' down Continental Ave, headed to the gallery, mindin' my own business..."Hey, know who you look like? You look like that...m-th-rf-kn' rock-n-roll singer from back in the day. What's his name?"

cast away your cares, poor Rodin, their weight is nothing but the illusion you so carefully tend to.

tonight, the bright and morning star, it leads the moon across the night sky...teach me.

this is my path to liberation: to recognize when conditioning arises, to feel it's ebb and flow in my body, and not respond to it's pull.

Student at campus art reception says, "art is like the Blob, it's always moving". Not quite sure I got it, but I like the analogy nonetheless.

ALL BILLS PAID.

and nothing as my guide

everything i am inclined to hold onto, let it go.

every object, every belief, every opinion.

to become clear, like the reflection in a mirror.

an empty vessel, in all ways free,

with gratitude for all, and nothing as my guide.

summer musings

i am just passing through (why is it when you want to say something profound, it just turns out scatalogical?).

Student at campus art reception says, "art is like the Blob, it's always moving". Not quite sure I got it, but I like the analogy nonetheless.

Dreamt I was in a crowd of people, when a racoon runs up, jumps in my arms and starts nibbling at my fingers. Then another does the same. Then a monkey jumps up and I'm holding all three in my arms...

Electrical storm lights the moist night sky, lights flicker and fade, all downtown is blackness for a moment.

The future is always unknown to us. There is an element of trust in stepping from this moment into the random uncertainty of the next. But that's how it works. Uncertainty reminds us that we are here to fully occupy this moment, now.

baby steps on the road to nowhere...

Sometimes you have to give up a good idea to get to a great one.

The end game of all dualities. Paying homage at the altar to the Clowns who run the Big Top.

Midnight, hallucinatory rays of light skimming across the desert. A voice fades in and out, airwaves mixing with overtones: "Tibetans call it the rainbow body"...and that moment the rain hits. Splashing across the windshield in torrents and flashes of lightning. Suddenly everything accelerates. Satori rides shotgun. ‎...and let it not be said, when history writes its' fabled lore, that destiny let these two brave men slip from her storied grasp.

Dreamt of a slight man, dyed blonde combover, pale leisure suit, holding me and a roomful of others hostage, planning us harm. As he explained why, I looked at the others, whispering "are we going to allow this?", then turned off the lights as we descended on him en masse. Drivin' all night in the summer time...kooky hallucinatory am radio callers fade out as self-important right wing djs massage their egos across the black empty sea of night, now giving way to sunrise over Amarillo, and on into the hot oven blast known as Texas.

calm abiding.

what have i learned so far? 1) i like shooting pool w/friends 2) complete solitude truly reveals you to yourself 3) i'm not yet fully comfortable with that 4) the self-balance of nature seems a form of perfection, yet involves killing to sustain itself. more investigation required. The real, revealed in the mythical, spoken of in dreams and broken fragments of perception. Today I will use my imagination to recreate the world, beginning...now.

Yes, it is absurd. And yes, it is a caricature. But rap culture got it exactly right: we create an image of the world we as we want it to be, then walk into that picture. Such is the power of the imagination. Strip away the ego while doing so, and you have hit the jackpot.

I learned a new visualization technique last night on the road. Early in the trip my tire shredded, leaving me with no spare and four hundred miles to go. I kept focusing my mind on the sound of the gravel driveway under my tires ahead at my destination. Eight hours later, I was there, pulling into that real driveway.

Dream Journal (Recent Dreams)

Staying with an elderly Tibetan woman on a mountain at 16,000 feet elevation. She is tiny and gaunt, with deep wrinkles across her face. Lying in the glowing embers of the fire inside of her hut are various hand-smithed metal tools: a spear, a hoe, and a third, unknown implement. I look up from the fire, seeing her face in the shadows, and ask her to teach me how to make these tools. (June)

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Working in a hospital as an orderly. A helicopter drops through the roof, and a team gets out, unloading three clear bins of organ transplants, floating in water. They set them on a bed. I clearly see a heart in one bin, still beating, and note that it is alive. Doctors come into the room and push me down the hallway, closing the doors. Walking further down the hall, I see Dustin Hoffman, playing a character who has lost the top half of his head and all of his brain. He is gesturing at me as though he wants to talk. I then realize that this is a movie, and that I am playing a role. (early July)

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I watch Billy Bob Thornton in cut-off jeans flirting with an attractive woman. He is unkempt and hasn't shaved in days. He drops down on all fours, scampering away down the median of a road, looking back to urge the girl to come along with him. (July)

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I am on the wing of a plane that is flying thousands of feet above the earth. Upside down, I cling to the wing, without concern for the greatness of height. I climb into the cabin through a broken window, and find myself in the company of other fliers, about 5 Latin men with aviator goggles. We each grab at and pass around sheet music, which is blown about by the wind passing through the cabin, and once settled began to sing "Special Lady" by Ray, Goodman and Brown. (mid July)

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In an SUV, driving another gallery owner to the airport, I realize that I am sitting in the backseat with her, and that the vehicle is driving itself. As we are about to pass under a bridge, I see a plane on the runway above, then look out at the highway and marvel that we are going straightways along it. Becoming concerned that no one is behind the wheel, I lean forward, stretching my body until I am in control. Then, the traffic becomes unpredictable, and I am forced to steer off the road, as large rocks begin to congest the highway. Steering with precision, I maneuver around the boulders, while also avoiding the chaos of the other drivers. (mid July)

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Driving an old beat up pickup truck in West Texas. My dad is riding in the passenger seat. We travel over rolling hills, coming to a landfill. I realize it is the wrong path, and put the truck into reverse, then turn onto another road. It is a steep hill, which overlooks the city at its top. I realize I am dreaming, and gun the truck over the hill, flying into the air. Suddenly, the truck is gone, and I am flying in the open air. (early August)

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Fighter planes flying low, pursuing helicopters. Machine guns strafing the ground in my direction. Running into a grove of trees, I step into a hole in a large cedar. Inside it is open and expansive, its smooth walls the size of a house, and forms a refuge from the conflict. (early August)