The planets conjunct, portending his birth bade us search on…….
We found him there in Bethlehem as the charts foretold but not with ease. Not one well to do house of Arab or Jew Roman or Greek had birth between them, no infants male or female could be found born that auspicious day; or women nigh to deliver under the star bright sky.
The planets conjunct, portending his birth bade us search on; visit caravan, tent, Inn and stable. Divers places all to no avail until on tavern steps, feet begging to rest we overheard a shepherd speak, of how his shelter was occupied by two well dressed Jews. Man, woman and a child just born.
Yes! –and here he hurried to tell his kin such peace as lulled his sheep to sleep and such Light about despite the moonless night that quite amazed him. A wine skin for his guest he took, and his sister with a knowing look on being told, insisted she also would journey back. He talked of voices of unseen guests.
At once we realised the town full – where else? Our profession advised; the tavern temptation dismissed, we had the shepherd guide, our bodies begging for rest. The pathway hard, our camels bad tempered, the cold wind swept hills unforgiving. We talked of turning back, yet could not agree, urged on by power greater than the body’s sap.
Wearily we arrived, not a moment to soon and knew at first sight, our year long journey cross sea, mountain, desert, river and plain was justified. Our faith upheld, the purpose before us in the bedding straw, a child born Venus; the power on Earth to Love. His eyes; the majesty of the Monarch of Time,
Our strength returned quite unexpectedly, as if we ourselves had the child’s unlimited power. In his grasp we placed our gifts, Myrrh, Gold and Frankincense. We gave news of Herod, Spoke highly of the child. Held our tongues in check on futures and bar that journey soon to be would say this and only this –
“His word and deed would long be sung in praise ere Jupiter and Saturn swung the sky and Man in darkness has the voice to cry Hosanna, Herald of the peace to come!”
Comment from Terveen Gill Tony’s poetic ode to fishermen and their bravery is beautiful and tragic. Those of us who have never ventured beyond land cannot fathom the dangers the waters conceal. I like how the sea has been portrayed as a mistress, mysterious and moody, unsure and chaotic. The men and woman who place themselves at her mercy are definitely heroes deserving of such lyrical beauty. May harmony prevail and the spirit of coexistence emerge supreme.
Pray hard for men who hunt the deep sea in their cockleshell boats out of Clyde scour the swims of Poseidon’s green head filling iced holds with dead alive eyes where the buffeting wind screeching is God’s angered ethereal Hand fear is the shake of riveted plate and love is a church locked up on the land.
Elemental wind, do not keep them from shore they who dare open the water blue door.
Pray soft for souls who haunt the seal lanes hymned only by December bright sea and snatched calls of seagull’s scorning the squint-eyed sons of water borne men striding the foam whiskered aboriginal depths bed to the bones of lost kinsman who went roaring to death protesting peace swallowed in the fish fat ocean’s mouth.
Elemental wind, do not rage for their soul their fathers have paid the fish stealing toll.
Pray love for the sons of water and blood patient for the calm, eager to net ever ready to chase white fish over mountainous crests, under the pale dark bruising wet sky casting to web Gods’ octopus’ head claw the fish from his shivering throat endanger their lives with the weight of the prize.
Elemental wind, do not anger the sea Man and his Mistress must ever be free.
In the season that is master of Magic From the brown fist where daffodils twist Deva’s who die are restlessly born Earth fire is formed and warms the dry stick The first cause that is last has begun
When the bulb bursts into glorious bud In the sloughing of the skin, I am born Many are called from the cause of the One Stratagems and purpose find voice And I am born through the birth of a son.
In the season most able of sense When intentions are passions of flesh The full breasted milk giving mother And the seminal Avatar’s rest Flowers will seed and fruit ripen to pick.
When the trees are heavy with scent And the wind warms to every new birth Emotional dark grows light in the sun Stratagems and purpose crown life And I am born through the birth of a son.
In the season burnt gold before death Evergreens form autumnal wreath And I seek the herald, ethereal Spring Nous guide of my Noctivagant star And my seed is the apple last blest
When all thoughts are ascendant stars Innocent, naked, without mantle or clasp And the will of all Deva is done Stratagems and purpose seek change And I am born through the birth of a son
In the season that is alien to summer In the still earthenware jar New wine ferments from the must of endeavour Potencies rich from the sediment rise The sum of old selves seeking new suns.
When leaf’s black heart has broken the mould Roots in hard sod and sings for the light Snow and hail spread like shot from a gun Stratagems and purpose make good And I am born through the birth of a son
Ah, winsome love, what aches your heart, breaks the rhythm of your mentor’s rhyme, stuns you into silence? Does the world debase and sully your native innocence trade on your gentleness, draw on the giving Self? Do you fear the well has gone dry and life’s effort a hoist of cold rocks, the brain tired of strictures, Of duty -duty denying the Self?
Let your fears flee to the winds Let go memories that haunt you Have them find oblivion in the shifting sands of time. The healer’s hands cup your face The power of love turns back the clock Years vanish and youth smiles The mystery deepens wordless expressive timeless love
Had you known your granite headstone would be flanked by two unknowns you might have thought it significant; as yours stands tall like one chosen compared to their drunken faces.
The tree that shadows where you lay its sloughed bark being last to view the moonlights felicitations; In your day sinewy green with youth has suffered change like you have.
The proud and leafy head is burnt broken and lifeless; its blackened antler branches gouging the sky. The knuckled roots naked of earth reshape the form you left behind.
The unknown blistered facing flags askew upon the biers they mark wedged between the tree’s webbed feet is living proof that men must fear. Names mean nothing to nature here.
Though Earth has held your name upright slow moving time has wrought its change; skeletal remains seeking rebirth remarry to achieve what you could not. Path to Mecca: world without end.
I am dropping out of the skies huge head whirling like the flower above me singing in the wind. My last home The silver – metal bee drones forward into the sun and I her human seed am reaching for my roots in the glazed earth feet first.
The final words of an assault rifle couldn’t be more honest and chilling. How many more will die knowing only the feeling of murderous metal in their hands?
Tony’s poem speaks volumes about the pitiful truth of war and bloodshed. Weapons handed to youngsters in the name of duty, their lives sacrificed for the supposed good of their nations. But behind the lies and deceit, larger forces are at play, and they climb upon the dead to reach for more power. The final words of an assault rifle couldn’t be more honest and chilling. How many more will die knowing only the feeling of murderous metal in their hands? Congratulations Tony!
Lay me down, half boy half man, lay me down, I’m hot. Burning your hands, I am, lay me down, I’m shot. The next round won’t fire.
Warning you, my fresh-faced keeper you am wanted by the Reaper.
Would have liked to be a plough, would have made good, turning earth, here and now. Would have, and should;
instead, they made me a driller of bullets, and you my son, a killer.
You praise me, when you’re sleeping, you call me your lover but when I’m spitting lead you call me a fucker.
Crusader, this round’s a bad one, and I’m overheating. I’m done. It’ll blow you to kingdom come.
Melting down, I can’t speak now. Melting down, death trap. Burning your heart, I am. Melting down, worthless scrap.
Pray, pity, maker of guns. Pity the death, of your sons.
Author’s note…
He is a short haired, well-built, who, under normal circumstances is considered by society as half man, half boy. Not yet dry behind the ears, just old enough to buy a round of drinks but old enough to die for his country. He recently left comprehensive school where he was probably, an average student, played some form of sport, drove a ten-year-old rust bucket, and knew a girl that either broke up with him when he left, or swore to be waiting when he returns home. He moves easily to mood music and hip‐hop, and to the rattle of an AK-74 assault rifle.
Tony’s eloquent poetry infuses life and soul into rusted shells of steel and iron, once meant to keep others afloat, now drowned in the tides of time and indifference. Mere objects to some, these ships were once the domain of the living, and carry the emotions and memories from times gone, embedded within their mighty hulls. Haunted or taunted, they rest with countless stories alive inside them.
In muddy mouthed Portsea Creek unwatched forgotten ships lay beached dashed and smashed breathless, cut and bled weather beaten picked and broken
by the dockside stooping crane’s bill collecting scrap.
Their final passages over shallows barnacle crusted bottoms scraping over shingle pulled and pushed by impatient tugs
who know falling tides suckling mud claim tows.
Robbed by landsman written out of registers deserted bridges balefully glare untold memories of purposed lives men who swore repeatedly
like lovers on heat trumpeting union of engine and steel.
Now their ghosts can be heard reliving purpose in the night blowing base horns heaving anchors turning their screws seaward
blending rusted hulls to the sea and the never-ending sky.
Portsea creek and its cutting divides the city of Portsmouth from the Hampshire mainland.
this poem brings to light the order of existence, the rules of supremacy. The qualities and characteristics of a living being sets their place in the pattern of life. Do intellect and emotions make humans superior to other species? Is it the strong against the weak, the voluble against the mute?
Terveen Gill of Masticadoresindia writes…. this poem brings to light the order of existence, the rules of supremacy. The qualities and characteristics of a living being sets their place in the pattern of life. Do intellect and emotions make humans superior to other species? Is it the strong against the weak, the voluble against the mute? Let’s not forget that humans are beasts that change their natures according to convenience. Beware!
Tony’s poetry lays bare the faceless and nameless who claim to fight in the support of their beliefs and rigidities. First, pawns played by the superpowers, then threats targeting those who birthed them, violating the world as they deem fit. This radicalism and political warfare are terminal illnesses in themselves. Who bows to whom and where is that sane voice of reason? Greed, hatred, and power never can have their fill.
Who wore the hat of Roman kind led armies of the blind in Laos Vietnam and Cambodia?
Then who challenged the just anointed crown in Britannica Planted bomb to burn the people
left their blood in burnt ash sites public places, shops, and schools messaging by video their sacrifice?
Uniformed of working clothes black gowned and turbaned white they respect no Emperor’s head.
Nameless, they speak explosively by smart phone, gun, and Semtex radicalising, inciting, recruiting
armies of face hidden eunuchs chanting plainsong as God warriors denying democracy, demanding power.
Some inoffensive men of peace who in their techno clean rooms for the greater good did feast
did cause nameless germs grow to combat Sino-German eagles and their poppy seeded mint
which reigned under Roosevelt, grew under Eisenhower flowered for Kennedy and
then
re-birthed with Bush and Blair in Israel, Lebanon and Iraq Afghanistan and Pakistan
was
the harvest of butterfat years when Knox was an ever open welcome door to inward goods.
The condemned man is making a statement of purpose, giving birth to his soul (the ribbon of wise) record, which cannot be extinguished by death. The term pigmy bowman is used figurately speaking to describe his captors as hunters of little importance. This symbolic poem poses the question is condemned man mad – or is he a voice of truth? What the poem seeks to do is highlight that small minority of people whose understanding of life and purpose is radically different from others and represents a threat to the powers that be. Except in rare instances the death of such individuals are not recorded to our history -yet their presence whether recorded as madness or divinely inspired has and will continue to change the development of mankind. T.S. Eliot understood that when he said humankind cannot bear too much reality. Note: the number 8 is the symbol of regeneration.
Granite Sliver Arrowhead I see you spurned by Pigmy Bowman yet you suffice and scathe the greening mortar… Mind that delibly records attempt my show and outward personality. This ribbon of a madman’s weave is the tape of all my saying small border thin and compass hand the clutch and stay Fingers…. Placing granite slabs to face their palms of tungsten flesh toward the shortened eye. Yet soon the tongue of this my wise and scrawl became as fever pitch and heavy as the hammer held halfway in arc deliberating as the mother would pressing down urging fingers in the lock of Isis eye to the agony that is mother And now is mine. Is birth! The warder had me carry seven days in labour waiting… before the fertilising seed became and his eye perceived the ribbon of wise inflicted with my word and writing. He stared examined even to the letter head lost in mergence to the polished stone turning, smiled…. Father dimly smiling through the stain of glass in the you can never tell about face…. He left and straight informed the governor. The hammer struck the child full born umbilical cut began to cry…. My eyes were full of faces demanding outstretching palms of tungsten flesh. Their right they screamed is feeding first why was I no askance waiting? They spread upon my word the slime and their cement that matched the slab and then.. Fingers turned upon themselves they commanded- called my clutching hand to lease my living Scribe this chipping sliver of their granite. They took. …. that morning after before the ashen face nether time of wanting day whilst less the night there stood eight mourners neath the sky bowl blooding red in their caps of prison grey and the circle turning tribute was the Sower spreading quicklime. And in my cell There stood another waiting for the shining mortar’s greening mould.
Ah! The pain the wanting all over dilemma sober reach out sweet grape of confusion; a duchess spread out on her savage’s bed willing her blood red to the lips of her lackeying male, neither caring the speech or the stain of his whip. Taking the seventh of her seconding breaths at the weep of secretion.
Comes now the concentration; the apex of arc, the long-drawn laugh of the physical man. The peak, then the plummet of an up thrown stone; extinguishing fire. Then the cold Darkness of Earth and then the winter of a why gloom face frosting the smile of devil cares not into peaceful beginning; a child in the low of the arc, weak murmur of problem.
And yet in end it begins; in the no start never finish real of the spark, in the still heard gasp mute echo of Psi fleeing the white. In the good die young the crude soldier damning as with the devils and the un-vowed nun; the same design. All blind fisherman in the day-night casting pearls from the corporeal banks of unsettled sublimity.
It manifests as harpoon with a white heat line; the strongest plus and minus seed. All charge of the instrument cannon, Time traveller to the state of perpetual climax; there as the spear of the deepest descent. The finder receiving the arranged and irrevocable choice the twin of sex; Satan-Father coalesced.
Consider, discuss, decide as you must. A boy of nine I was, given to play? Yes- but impatient to grow. A minder of sheep and goat, not quite a shepherd, you understand. Arab Jewish Samaritans, lowborn we were under Roman rule in the land of Moses.
Tent dwellers; nomadic in the Way of the Sea we moved our flocks from pasture to fold over plain, hill slope, through mountain pass. Self-sufficient, our mixed blood had no ties in towns and we were shunned in cities. At that time there was much disquiet,
camel borne travellers would hail us seeking safe passage to Damascus anxious for news, telling of homes destroyed of livestock lost. Herod by the sea of salt in hope of cure, still covetous of power. Riots and Roman soldiers everywhere.
It was the hottest time of year -too hot. My father the elder shepherd of our band decreed we leave the plain of Armageddon skirt the Galilean hills and drive to Mount Carmel and fold there in cool caves the pasture good, the Kishon river close.
Unusual for time of year it rained unexpectedly. Wet and freshened I explored cave and gully gaping at rock paintings, sling shooting hawk foolish enough to target our flock. When night fell there was talk about events on the highway, riots in Sepphoris.
Mahmud was our Rabbi, a Samaritan Who taught us boys by rote from a scroll. He would disappear for days on end, reappear warning of wolves, thieves in hiding, bringing herbs, fruits, figs, salt preserved fish, feet, hands, and body bruised and bleeding.
But not this time -from the tomb of Rachel he had seen columns of soldiers, pillars of smoke, people fleeing carnage, a forest of crosses. He arrived much distressed. Nearby, he said, there is a camel camp of Persian men, star diviners, here for some special event.
So deep the dreamless sleep I slept, when roused I complained of being woken. My father’s command to dress was brusque and impatient. Mother soothingly said be quick no time to rest. Sheep and goat were want to break the folds and strange lights had appeared in the heavens.
Girding mantle, grasping staff, sling, and pipe I joined the men grouped around a fireside where Mahmud, repeated yet again to disbelieving ears, of a vision given in prayer, how an angel of the lord appeared announcing birth of a messiah to all men.
How he had run to the Kishon River to impart this news to the Persian men, and they, exclaiming in response said this was the proof, the final proof they sought. And without delay broke camp and headed east. The river shining phosphorus in the night.
Did I hear a voice as we knelt in prayer? For when Mahmud said follow me, I knew the angel would want us shepherds go! Find the birthplace, give tribute to the child. More in fear I think, of unearthly things, Claiming protection of the women folk,
some herders stayed with the folded flock. For me this was adventure, side by side my father leading with Mahmud we trod the Magi’s tracks. An uphill beaten track Nazorean’s often trod beyond Bethlehem to Elijah’s tomb. In silent awe we came
to where the light was strongest; there halted by a well-dressed Jew, then let pass. Mahmud having yet again spoken of his vision. We entered a cave, two donkeys tethered looked at us curiously –and there in a lamp lit area no bigger than a tent
a babe in swaddling clothes lay in the arms of a woman and before them, three Magi. Also, an Arab woman, an older sage-like Jew and a fearsome looking man whose smile belied his looks. The air perfumed –a scent so strong my head whirled with feelings.
We knelt on the hard stone in a presence of many persons unseen; God’s angels I know them now to be. We presented lamb and kid –the best of the litters we had, and in turn were given sweet wine. Yet I was not allowed, and she, seeing this
beckoned me to drink from a leather gourd that hung from the cradle bed, a sweet warming juice. I drank gazing as I did upon the new-born baby’s face. Then not asked but sure of rightness I began to play my shepherd’s pipe. With eyes closed he smiled,
as if somehow, he had heard me play before. The tune was new to me and full of majesty, my fingers moving my brain asleep I lost all sense of time, only just aware of his mother’s happy face; the attention of all that were in that holy place.
As dawn began to show we took our leave. My father with pride made much of my tune. There was curious talk about the older man, was he her husband? Why birth in a cave? They were not poor, and the Magi had given gold! There had been talk of Herod,
more so the riots and of Rome’s steel hand. Yet for all this talk as we returned, the paths aglow, I sensed my nomadic life would never be the same again. We had gained in status been received as equals –us lowborn shepherds; and feted at a godlike event! Yet despite this, seeds of doubt took root.
The holy book lost its magic -I questioned why Jews and Gentiles warred, sacrificial lambs, the militancy of God. Instead, I dreamed of union in remembrance of the child, believing he would one day share our daily bread forever hopeful that our souls might wed.
Consider, discuss, decide as you must the burden of proof is a human need. My shepherd’s tale, straightforwardly said is to you a plea -that in the body’s Keep your soul should no longer groan and weep but celebrate the Love that is Heavens Bread.
Gritty shell Church within an egg I watch the moulder of your stone In envy Of the subtle grain that clings together Unperturbed Disdainful of my changing face. I even see Your smoke washed splints of mortar Laughing into faces. Stilton memories I achieved And could not Stop the wooden green from going rot. Words I spoke Whilst sitting buttocks down upon the egg Fragile shell Withholding my perceptive children Like I did I crushed it thinking It were the Godly given bolster chair Comfort of my conceit.
Hoopla play your arches Round my helpless thoughts of demolition Law enforcing Dung to give it’s place to cleansing water. Spit with glee They the dying grain to blood my eye As cold My thought it turns the hand Round the chisel’s grasp. Oh monument I built you in the lesser times Subservient was the stone To my design of Of the paper and the oh so easy Pen of righteousness. Why you hideous now?
And the gargoyle Split unto the four points Have not lost an eye or tongue Whilst the silver Of my altar laid with blessing Has passed And changed between the Bread and Wine To mint within the careful hand Of Mammon’s vestal virgins.
Ah! The pain the wanting all over dilemma sober reach out sweet grape of confusion; a duchess spread out on her savage’s bed willing her blood red to the lips of her lackeying male, neither caring the speech or the stain of his whip. Taking the seventh of her seconding breaths at the weep of secretion.
Comes now the concentration; the apex of arc, the long-drawn laugh of the physical man. The peak, then the plummet of an up thrown stone; extinguishing fire. Then the cold Darkness of Earth and then the winter of a why gloom face frosting the smile of devil cares not into peaceful beginning; a child in the low of the arc, weak murmur of problem.
And yet in end it begins; in the no start never finish real of the spark, in the still heard gasp mute echo of Psi fleeing the white. In the good die young the crude soldier damning as with the devils and the un-vowed nun; the same design. All blind fisherman in the day-night casting pearls from the corporeal banks of unsettled sublimity.
It manifests as harpoon with a white heat line; the strongest plus and minus seed. All charge of the instrument cannon, Time traveller to the state of perpetual climax; there as the spear of the deepest descent. The finder receiving the arranged and irrevocable choice the twin of sex; Satan-Father coalesced.
This blog mail is a bit longer than usual -I hope you will find time to read it. My usual habit of writing weekly has been broken due immediate pressing concerns -and likely ongoing, but in case you are wondering it’s not because my health and the health of my family is the cause!
Before I give you that advice, allow me to remind the key points of my previous blog posting.
Breathing begins in the womb of your mother as a pulse activating and developing every part of the BodyMind. It’s a primal function which corresponds to the natural Earthen world our matter and mind is made from -and of course, it is also influenced by your mother’s BodyMind, which whilst it instinctively blends with the natural order of development can also influence the character you create of yourself.
When you are born and start breathing a mixture of nitrogen, oxygen, carbon dioxide and water, we are immediately connected and influenced by the outside world environment that ultimately governs our perceptive nature. Post birth the harmony experienced in the womb is lost and the instinct of survival is born. The uniqueness of your individual self has one overriding purpose -the restoration of harmony.
Breathing has three parts, in-pause-out.
Depending on how you are exerting yourself and/or emotionally and mentally focussed on something, the three parts of breath will vary in their time signature. The more you are mentally and emotionally maintaining a focus on something the inward breath will be shorter than the outward breath and the pause will hardly be noticed. When you stop doing the activity the middle (pause) breath will lengthen, the intaking breath will shorten before the outer breath does. What this tells us is this -the shortening of the inward breath stresses the mind, which in turn incapacitates the body. Longer inward breathing which can come from exercising or physically working an activity naturally ceases when the body demands rest.
If you work yourself up mentally and emotionally during any activity the benefit the body naturally manages is lost -because it’s being ‘told’ by the mind how to behave.
The breath ‘key’ is the middle or pausing part. If you are unduly stressing the volume of oxygen ingested (the energy giver) is lessened, which has a domino-like effect causing unnecessary stress to become resident. The middle breath loses its managing role, benefits are reduced, and problems arise. In this world where birth right freedoms are being suppressed by actions intended to defeat viral infections nothing is more important than your health. If you breathe right the immune system will continue to strengthen -even in the over 60’s where science tells us it begins naturally to weaken.
You’ve probably deduced from what I’ve said that undue stress is created by inefficient breathing cycles. to correct this, we must first acknowledge our breathing patterns are largely unconscious -or if you care to see it this way, the result of lifestyle habits. On anything unconsciously activated we only become consciously aware after the event. It’s clear we can’t change anything to the better until lifestyle habits are changed that are causal to bad breathing practises.
So, the very first thing you must do is treat habit with habit -like with like.
Our energetic natures are governed by naturally occurring patterns and movements -the same forces which causes trees to grow, animals to multiply, and all other forms of earthly life manifest life and death cycles. These are the constantly reoccurring sun and moon cycles, the movements of energetically charged particles in our outer atmosphere, and the planetary forces in our solar system influencing life on Earth.
Individually we characterise ourselves in relation to these natural forces -good, bad and indifferently. We all spend much of our time in reactive mode, in other words responding to what we classify as need. The busyness of life is on the increase -technology has developed so rapidly, day-to-day consciousness is being driven by it.
Take two common examples. Junk mail or Spam as we call it -how did they get your address and/or your email? Likely you don’t take any notice -delete or bin them, but read them or not they demand your attention. Maybe for only a few seconds -few minutes at the most. Even when you do not take notice of the content, they affect your breathing patterns. Mobile phones are even more of a problem -when the phone rings or a text notification is sounded, you take notice and often respond. Mislay the phone or forget to take it with you and mentally you (a) may feel lost without it, or (b) worry where you left it. Tiny amounts of unnecessary stress build up during the daily cycle -and this is not to mention the advertising you ignore or silence on the TV when at last during the evening you feel you can relax.
It could be manageable if these stresses were to zero out at bedtime, but of course they don’t, because we are not now talking about thoughts and feelings, we are talking badly adjusted body rhythms.
In practise what this means is we absorb unnecessary stress -changes that are so very gradual we unconsciously accept them as Right Order. Instinctively we react -that part of our BodyMind knows we are not in a Right Order state but on its own account can’t tell you how to change it. So, what does our personality mind do? It looks for breaks, holidays, and diversions.
Does all this sound familiar?
It should do because we are all caught up in a maelstrom of movements we do not control. As I said before we must treat like with like. Change our habits. In days of Yore the natural elements determined what routines we adopted -doing so to get the best out of ourselves when they worked in favour of what we wanted to do. The world now is a different place -bar a few indigenous people who still can, we must create habits that make the best of our so-called civilised world.
This is how -begin your day with purpose.
It doesn’t have to be a world inspiring idea; in fact, it is better not to be. Keep it simple and objectively realisable. So, if you want to be more loving to a person -that’s helpful only if you can express it as a recognisable action, which when achieved satisfies the purpose. Whether it be a purpose associated with work, pleasure, or passion, it stands before the day single-minded. Of course, it will not go unchallenged and if you succeed in accomplishing it before the sun is at its height, give yourself another purpose. And should be assailed by demands you do not agree are good, or meet to your purpose, acknowledge them, accept their reality -then let them go.
This is what the mind must do on all things at all times.
Acknowledge, never ignore, respect and do not judge. Accept -recognise the reality you face has powers you do not control. Release -be that by actions which fulfil your defined purpose, or be that because you have no need, because otherwise it would destroy the unity of the BodyMind.
This is the key of all ancient teachings -the only known way to unite the warring parts of body and soul. The key to harmony which can only be turned by the personality mind. To breathe rightly is to know oneself.
Know this and you will understand why the prodigal son was feted by his father.
The poem I share with you this week is a love poem -because this is what this post is about. Love is what binds us.
Love’s Credo
Fuse emotion and thoughts in one their hidden sounds are symphony, where words and moves unwedded coil in past and future memory.
Stand and shout and jump for joy, the white moon waxing sets the tide moves our mind and seeds our life: the joyous soul we cannot hide.
Tomorrow comes tomorrow goes; Time cannot erase or change the union that the law agreed was right to be a binding creed.
Last week I ended my blog by saying there is much more to breathing than expelling and intaking air. I daresay you are respectful of people who practise yoga and in particular Pranayama -yogic breathing, which has the purpose of purifying the energy channels in the body, relaxing the nervous system, and strengthening the body, mind, and emotional immunity.
There are three stages of Pranayama as instructed in the Yoga Sutras. Inhalation (Puraka), retention or suspension of the breath (Kumbhaka), and exhalation (Rechaka). Usually practised by one nostril at a time, though it can be practised using both nostrils simultaneously by partially contracting the glottis. The time periods of these stages can be varied to increase the benefits of practise.
Breathing in this manner is usually carried out sitting in a lotus posture, or in movements designed to increase and project BodyMind awareness. And you must be consciously controlling these actions. For sure you can’t properly practise them when you are half asleep after waking, or thumping the pavements on the way to work, driving, or threading your way through crowds in a busy shopping arcade.
But breathe you must -right?
We can’t help ourselves, we do it unconsciously most of time. Now -how would you like to gain the benefits the yogic sutras speak of on a day-to-day, moment-to-moment basis in a way that doesn’t require you to stop the daily rush of life?
Here’s how -but first you need to know what the function of breath is all about. It begins in the womb of your mother as a pulse activating and developing every part of the BodyMind. It’s a primal function which corresponds to the natural Earthen world our matter and mind is made from -and of course, it is also influenced by your mother’s BodyMind, which whilst it instinctively blends with the natural order of development can also influence the character you create of yourself. When you are born and start breathing a mixture of nitrogen, oxygen, carbon dioxide and water, you are immediately connected and influenced by the outside world environment that ultimately govern your perceptive nature. The harmony experienced in the womb is lost and the instinct of survival is born. The uniqueness of your individual self has one overriding purpose -the restoration of harmony.
Easier said than done, eh?
In fact, common knowledge would say it’s impossible. The best we can hope for are periods of relative calm, moments of unity, and the retrospective awareness of harmony, which only goes to show we don’t live consciously aware of our actions.
The ancient masters knew this was our common lot and sought ways in which the primal function of breath could be restored to influence and harmonise our perceptive world. They discovered sound and colour are interrelated and the breath we unconsciously enable encompasses a wide range of frequencies. The higher the frequency the less form/time condition the breath has -the more colour, shape, and movement it experiences. You’ve read about yogis who allowed themselves to be buried alive, and dug up none the worse, days later -yes?
What they were doing were breathing internally -not only a physically able function, but they also invoked the Vach.
The Vach is best described in common English as the sound within the sound -in other words they raised the frequency of breathing until its time/form expression was practically stationary. In today’s world we acknowledge there is a synthesis between sound and colour -we call it Chromesthesia in which sound involuntarily evokes an experience of colour, shape, and movement.
Relax! I’m not suggesting a practise that requires you to dig a hole in your garden, bury yourself, to experience harmony.
What I am suggesting is this – for breathing to provide benefits you must take notice of what the three actions of breath do. Make the unconscious conscious.
Allow me to explain how you can make that happen.
Initially take notice of how your breathing operates. It has three parts, in-pause-out. Depending on how you are exerting yourself and/or emotionally and mentally focussed on something, the three parts of breath will vary in their time signature. The more you are mentally and emotionally maintaining a focus on something the inward breath will be shorter than the outward breath and the pause will hardly be noticed. You may even find that is happening as you re-read what I’m writing you about -it’s a sign of heightening stress. If you are physically exerting yourself the inward and expelled breath will be longer, and unless you are puffing from the activity, will find the middle pausing breath will be longer. When you stop doing the activity the middle breath will lengthen, the intaking breath will shorten before the outer breath does.
What this tells us is this -shortened inward breathing stresses the mind, which in turn incapacitates the body. Longer inward breathing which can come from exercising or physically working an activity naturally ceases when the body demands rest. If you work yourself up mentally and emotionally during the activity the benefit the body naturally manages is lost -because it’s being ‘told’ how to behave.
The breath ‘key’ is the middle or pausing part -if we can manage that the entire BodyMind benefits.
Earlier in this piece I told you what air is chemically -your lungs are never completely devoid of air comprising majorly of nitrogen, oxygen, carbon dioxide and water. When we exhale, the outward breath composition contains more carbon dioxide and less oxygen. If you are unduly stressing the volume of oxygen ingested (the energy giver) is lessened, which has a domino-like effect causing the unnecessary stress to become resident. The middle breath loses its managing role, benefits are reduced, and problems arise.
Stress is a necessary part of our energy making capability -essential to the well-being of our entire BodyMind -undue stress is the No.1 causal killer!
Every type of illness, however it may be defined to have arisen develops from undue stress -and the ‘key’ that prevents reminds you of its presence 24-7. Get your breathing right, or in the very least make it more efficient than it currently is, and your health overall will improve.
In this world where birth right freedoms are being suppressed by actions intended to defeat viral infections nothing is more important than your health. If you breathe right the immune system will continue to strengthen -even in the over 60’s where science tells us it begins naturally to weaken.
It’s not difficult -you don’t have to be brainy -you just need to modify your habits!
In my next post I’ll show you exactly how to do it.
The poem I share with you this week walks back in time aware of moments when harmony ruled, and time did not govern my senses.
The Seize of Time
Walk with me through the green gate past the ivy clad barn, the rusted plough, there let us take shade from the sun under the spread of the sycamore tree. Nearby, the gnats cloud the sedge pond
buzz in harmony, chicken’s coop, geese cackle, and the farm dog barks. The clack of a hand-turned butter churn can be heard from the house, the smell of baking bread wafts on the breeze.
In the far wet-field, revs of a tractor sound as we sit midst forget-me-not’s, coriander, dandelion, thistles, and milkwort, mosses, and warm grass. Laughing, and making daisy chains.
Out of sight beyond the fields a distant bell toll seizes time. Moments that will never age forever live –of love’s breath that never shall or can possess.
As promised in my last post I’ll introduce you to the mechanism that can transform our warring parts into a unity -and more to the point begin the training that can enable continuity beyond the grave of the Self you become aware of.
First, let me advise you how the ancient masters introduced their pupils to the way of ways.
Irrespective of the pupil’s station in everyday life, whether they were rich, influential, or poor and uneducated, they would be treated equally. They were given menial tasks to do -never for their own purpose of supposed need, always as benefit for others. These were often the dirtiest jobs possible, like cleaning latrines, and at no time were they given higher purpose teachings.
Needless to say, the fall out rate was high.
Interestingly, a teacher in modern times, George Ivanovitch Gurdjieff (1877-1949) used similar methods of introduction. Born in Alexandropol, Armenia, trained as a priest and physician, he travelled widely the remote regions of Central Asia and the Middle East before setting up his Institute for The Harmonious Development of Man. At the Château du Prieuré near Paris in the nineteen twenties he attracted many young intellectual/university type students. He put them to work preparing foods in the kitchen, cleaning the toilets, and digging holes. He would tell them he was searching for underground springs to supplement the water supply to the château -as you might expect many holes were dug without getting results. Again, the fallout rate was high.
The purpose of this introduction was to engage the instinctual nature of BodyMind with the rationally minded ego, which develops in the day-to-day world as the controlling driver of our consciousness.
Some found this humiliating and accused Gurdjieff (as others had done with past teachers) of wanting to make them servile to him. In reality the teacher intended these ‘exercises’ to give birth to instrumental self-awareness -a life-living form of consciousness, which was able to encompass and activate the higher nature of the BodyMind. The logic of this conversion (if we can call it that) was simply this -eternal self-awareness is only possible when the BodyMind is harmoniously whole -and that must include connecting and expressing the root nature of Self as born into this world.
We are all born with awareness of the higher nature.
The innocence of the child is a magnet drawing us into their world, and mothers have an intuitional awareness of the child’s nature, which develops in pregnancy and forever thereafter gives them an inner knowledge of the child’s identity. However, as we all know we fast lose that innocence as the consciousness of the outside world gains our attention and presents us with choices. We form personality to protect and guide us into adulthood. Whether we are religious or not, we develop standards of behaviour that enable our interests -and it is those standards that argue fiercely their right to be heard and acted upon.
The herd mentality has standards of behaviour enabling us to be open with others -making us feel wanted and accepted. If we reject the herd mentality, we must hide our standards of self-being -else we are seen as ‘rogue’ and are criticised, ignored, or otherwise branded weird and uneducable.
It is the ‘rogues’ the ancient masters were most interested in because they saw them as having retained the inner awareness of the child, and therefore were most likely to succeed in converting their adult nature into instrumental BodyMind harmony. History shows families allowing their children to live in Ashrams and other like communities as pathways to develop spirituality through service to others.
So, am I saying in our modern technologically driven world we need to retire to Ashrams, monasteries, and other such closed communities to succeed?
No, I am not. Neither am I saying closed community living is a sure way of achieving BodyMind harmony as often religious and philosophical scruples maintain the ego’s rational right to remain ‘King of the castle’.
So, is the true path so narrow all but a few can find and practise it?
No, it is not -there is a way in which you can live and function in the ‘herd’, be acceptable to your friends, loved ones, and neighbours, hold and maintain positions of importance in the secular world -and still be able to develop BodyMind Harmony. And not appear weird or odd!
I called this piece Mission Impossible because it does ask of you actions many would say are consistently unachievable in today’s world.
The reason why history keeps repeating itself is because Man’s habitual self doesn’t work to free himself from the cycle of rebirth.
The first step you take on the self-called ‘narrow’ path is invisible to others!
You need to re-engage the very first thing you did when you entered this world from your mother’s womb. It is to rediscover how to breathe correctly! And believe me -there is much more to breathing than expelling and intaking air! In my next post I’ll advise the ‘what’ and ‘how’ of doing this….
The poem I have written for this week illustrates the difference between ego perceptive consciousness (the Stone Man) and BodyMind awareness.
Song of the Sea
Beyond the Stone Man lives a psychic sea wherein thespian arts are founded, on the whisperings of immortality.
Earth genius, maker of machinery hear before claiming, this invocation. Beyond the Stone Man lives a psychic sea,
thesaurus more precious than history, an interlocking alien kingdom: the whisperings of immortality.
Stone Man, creator of insanity repeat after me this incantation. Beyond the Stone Man lives a psychic sea,
where sceptres and crowns were facsimile long before Archimedes heard in song, the whisperings of immortality.
Knights and Bishops, guardians of the Tree, Knowledge, and Faith, have you now forgotten? Beyond the Stone Man lives a psychic sea,
of mistakes made in your liturgy by making your God of wisdom, to wrong the whisperings of immortality?
I wait the last act of this tragedy powerless to prevent consummation. Beyond the Stone Man lives a psychic sea
where his soul sits under the Bodhi tree ever present awaiting earthly union, to share the whisperings of immortality.
Introducing Conor, a young man who has studied with me. This thought provoking piece just goes to prove insight and understanding is not the preserve of older more experienced people. Please comment!
From a collective evolutionary standpoint, it’s a challenge finding ways and means to understand the nature of ‘true-self’.
As such, It’s debatable how many people have the capability to intelligently comprehend their ‘physical’ animal natured existence. Whilst we share the world as equals, we are not equal in the development of the higher-natured self.
The transformative state of spiritual consciousness evolves over thousands of lifetimes and follows a hierarchical line of ascension. The consciousness born of the ‘Animal-natured’ man, ultimately achieves finality as the ‘Higher-natured self’. During this journey the ‘modus operandi’ of Human-nature is represented by the planet ‘Pluto’ (expressive of renewal), whereby old foundations are destroyed. ‘Ego’ and how we relate to ourselves can be represented by the Moon, symbolic of the ‘individual’ emotive nature, and Mercury, the ruling the planet of thought.
What do we mean by ‘Animal-natured’ man, and the Higher-natured self?
Simply put, Animal-man lives for his earthly desires and has single-minded trains of thought; the end justifies his means. The ‘Higher-natured self’ lives to serve, in accordance with the laws of spiritual evolution, able and expressive through the incarnate nature. To say we are in part animal-natured evokes the question; is Man animal-like? Why such a connotation?
During the ‘infancy’ stage of man’s development the mind-state is raw, and naturally combative. Animal-man views his existence as a ‘battle-field’. His predisposition creates irrational ‘animistic’ thought, such as jealousy, envy, and greed. On observing animals, domestic or other, a ‘likeness’ in relation to the thought process is apparent, comparatively, the thought pattern animal-natured man expresses, is like any animal species able to manipulate, or otherwise, challenge any adversary to get ‘needs’ met.
As the animal-natured man magnetically follows his earthly desires, his consciousness remains chained to physical experience, causing him to re-visit his physical animal consciousness once-more -the path marked with sudden shocks and blows aiding transformation. We may call animal-natured man ‘uncivilized’ but this is unfairly derogatory, many will identify with the ‘Intellectual-man’, an intermediary ‘step-up’ on the ladder of evolutionary consciousness,
Intellectual animal-man has greater control over the ‘impulse’ nature, but is equally capable of committing wrong-doing out of frustration or other such factors.
Whilst this can describe ‘Animal-natured’ man at the beginning of physical incarnation, animal-natured consciousness latently remains present in the ongoing states of human development.
Each stage of evolutionary ‘spiritual’ consciousness can be assigned an ‘octave’ or ‘governing influence’ of the mind-state – The animal-natured man engages life through the vibratory octave of Mars, in the outer-most circle of their awareness, here, animal man is dominant, and the lower-mind is the major influence, whilst Intellectual animal-natured man, who is aspirational of change, views physical existence through Saturn’s octave. Saturn in this sense enables greater control over the thought and action process, but not without restriction. Thought has begun to vibrate, even though it is linked with self and desire, they are still a circle nearer the true Self, for the ‘Animal’ man is now transforming into the intellectualized Man.
From the logos of Saturn, Mercury is born, the labour of the saturnine-minded Man is influenced by the intuitional mind of the ‘Buddhic plane’ the plane of wisdom.
When the Martian and Saturnine vibrations have accomplished their work, animal-minded man and the intellectual-minded man transfigure, and the Higher-natured intelligence is born. The soul having learned its evolutionary lessons, develops sympathy through painful experiences. The selfish and personal side having been crucified, signals the end of personal desires. The soul stands ready to receive the influx of divine wisdom and enter a new state of ‘Unified’ consciousness.
Higher-natured Man views life through an ‘individuated’ conscious state, and the planetary octave of Uranus, the ‘visionary’.
In general, higher natured man is sacrificial, and knows the evolutionary intent is to be of service to others. Early on insight is gained into the nature of ‘higher-self’, here ‘known’ consciousness extends across multiple ‘worlds’ simultaneously, as past life memories blend with ‘real-time’ consciousness. Such awareness naturally leads the Higher-natured man to question his own sense of ‘reality’, the effect of Uranus in this case enables ‘freedom’ from ‘known’ consciousness.
One shouldn’t assume ‘Higher’ man is dropped into ‘physical embodiment’ with an “all-knowing” awareness, as with animal-minded and Intellectual-minded man before him. Any sense of consciousness awareness is ‘outwardly born’, and unfolds through the veil of life, therefore it remains Higher man’s objective to ‘discover’ himself.
The evolutionary consciousness of the soul, now unified, is at odds with the consciousness of the Ego in the ‘individuated’ state – Inner conflict for the Higher-man now stems from the opposition of dual consciousness, the task of Man is to bridge this divide.
Higher-man’s evolutionary state leads to the realization of his nature as an ‘individual’, a sense of alienation entails as he no longer identifies with the ‘collective’.
A question is commonly asked concerning the idea of reincarnation, “Why do I not remember my past lives if I have lived before?” – It is important to understand what does not ‘reincarnate’ to clearly appreciate the difference between the ’Ego’ and the Animal-man, whose brain is played on by the ‘Ego’ or ‘Thinker’. This is indeed the crux of the matter, which tends to make the theory of reincarnation difficult to understand.
Animal man is born, and the Ego becomes linked to him, using the brain and body of the animal man as a vehicle for expression on the physical plane, the ego is always the unit-consciousness and remains one, but it has the power to inform multifarious personalities.
In one life a ray of consciousness may inform the brain of John Smith; in another Joe Bloggs, but is it the ‘Thinker’ (Ego) that reincarnates, the Animal man never does.
This ‘Thinker’, connected with and informing the animal man, imparts to the lower nature as much as of its own capacities and inherent powers as animal man is able to manifest, and these capacities inherent in the thinker are recognized by us and the brain-mind or the “lower-mind”. The memory of lives once lived belongs to the thinker, and it is the reincarnating ‘thinker’ alone that can recall each earth life, and not the ‘brain mind’ that it plays upon, without this ‘thinker’ we are all animal men and women.
There is a new vehicle, as it were, in each re-embodiment made ready for the driver. But the vehicle cannot remember its path, only the driver can recall his journey.
We each have a new brain for every life, and this brain or instrument (together with the body) only lives once and consequently cannot remember a past in which it took no part.
We see then, that the question we are so often asked “Why do I not remember my past lives if I have lived before?”, is really based upon a misconception of the theory of reincarnation; for while I personally have never lived before, that I of consciousness has lived over and over again and will continue to do so until perfection on the physical plane is reached, and the brain of the animal man has become responsive to the consciousness of the Higher-self, choosing to sacrifice, and guide.
In the case of ‘Higher-natured’ man the soul waits in suspended animation for such a vehicle instrumentally ‘fit’ for task.
Amongst other things, I’m a Complementary Health Therapist, and have been practising for more years than I care to remember, but it didn’t start out that way. I was naturally mediumistic as a child and unaware of the lifestyle implications -when it suddenly mushroomed into consciousness in my early twenties creating a host of questions.
I sought help to control it (you see, I had other ‘career’ plans), and became aware of other dimensions of reality. The shock to my system wasn’t the newness of knowledge -it was precisely the opposite, I already knew of it, but until then had been a ‘sleeper’. It was like I had suddenly woken up to who I was -and needless to say, my plans, which at that time was to take my dancing skills into musical theatre, vanished overnight.
I became aware of a timeless knowledge
and thereafter all that I have been verbally taught or have understood from others actions and writings has served to give thought, word, and action to the inner understanding I was aware of. It doesn’t mean I accept everything which gains my attention. For example, I have a clairaudient ability and a doctor guy by the name of Heinrich Schroeder who often assists me when I’m healing others will, as required, tell me things about my patients’ health condition and suggest ways they can help themselves. If I’m not previously knowledgeable of that advice, or he mentions words I don’t understand -I check it out and will only pass on that guidance when it makes sense to me.
What this means -is this; our individual needs are entirely unique, and no matter the appraised value of what you hear or read -your acceptance is the touchstone to enable, change, or reject. “And no man putteth new wine into old bottles; else the new wine will burst the bottles, and be spilled, and the bottles shall perish.Luke 5:37, King James Version.
Which brings me to the subject of Mindfulness.
I’m all for any practise which puts emphasis of living life more fully in the here and now. It’s currently fashionable to talk and engage in the practise of Mindfulness -so, where did this spring from?
When you look into it -this is what it claims to do. It is a way of training the mind, to achieve a deep state of consciousness, free of judgments about our sensations, feelings, or thoughts. A process of paying attention to what is happening inside ourselves on a moment-to-moment basis. It actively encourages questioning of our habitual way of thinking and the mental patterns our lifestyles have wrought. The mind control objective is to give practitioner’s the ability to observe their thoughts with perspective, without immersing themselves in their content.
Benefits claimed from the practise of mindfulness include improving the perception of pain in chronically ill patients, resulting in greater emotional well-being. Improved ability to concentrate and apply your attention, which results in greater efficiency when performing any task. Gives ability to manage stressful situations and release anxiety states, as it helps reduce cortisol levels (stress hormones) in our bodies. The practise is an aid to a good night’s sleep and can relieve insomnia. In general, the practice improves our emotional intelligence, since it allows us to face our thoughts and emotions and interpret situations with perspective, without judgement.
Now, who would argue these benefits are of no value? I certainly don’t, but is this the ‘old wine’ they claim it to be? If they assert that it is, I have some issues with it.
Firstly, let’s put the history into context. The Buddha didn’t invent Mindfulness, and he never used that term. He won’t mind me saying so, because he himself was aware of the harmonising practises having a history many millennia before his time. Secondly, what the Buddha was addressing by his lifestyle and practises, was the root problem that has bedevilled Mankind since his inception -how to cojoin our warring parts by processes to harmonise and evolve them.
Man is a complex hybrid creation -the character and composition of his consciousness is born of the Earth. The inner nature of our energies has higher form and non-form timeless counterparts, intelligence we cannot comprehend at source, and are only aware of it through the filter of our time/form Earth born consciousness.
We cannot achieve awareness of the higher realities by mind alone -it is only achievable when mind and body are in harmony, and then -surprise, surprise! We are no longer logically in charge because our instinctual nature has become an intuitional guide! That doesn’t mean you lose the power of thought or cannot be objective in action -but it does mean the rational mind is no longer the source power. There are many psychic development processes, including mindfulness as a westernised practise, which educate the rational mind as the source of power and transformation. The ancient masters (including the Buddha) never took this approach, for them harmonisation is achieved by radically changing our mode of perception.
They recognised that Man, as with all other forms of life, are in essence, open systems. Perceptibly it would appear life has no go borders, differences abound, and many life forms are so diversely different they do not relate or engage harmoniously with others. The complexity of Man has given him cause to develop a buffer zone of consciousness -its purpose is to protect his perceptive time/form world of consciousness from non-perceptive forms of life.
In short, Man’s hybrid nature gave birth to the Ego -a self-aware mechanism to give purpose to the warring parts. The rational mind was born.
And when these ancient masters looked at the world, and to the worlds beyond ours, they found no evidence of rationality in any other form of life. In the process of achieving samadhi, as the Buddha sat motionless beneath the Bodhi tree, he was not empty of humanness -he was attuned and in active communication with all forms of life that interacted with his BodyMind.
The Buddha, as had other Masters of Light before him, discovered the mechanism to transform his warring parts into a unity that enabled continuity beyond the grave.
In my next post I’ll introduce you to that mechanism -and you will see why you can’t put old wine into new bottles, and why incidentally history keeps repeating itself ad nauseam.
The poem I have written for this week is a pointer to the problem we all face.
In Memory of Sarah King
Had you known your granite headstone would be flanked by two unknowns you might have thought it significant; as yours stands tall like one chosen compared to their drunken faces.
The tree that shadows where you lay Its sloughed bark being last to view the moonlights felicitations; In your day sinewy green with youth; has suffered change like you have.
The proud and leafy head is burnt, broken and lifeless; its branches blackened antlers gouging the sky; the knuckled roots naked of earth Reshape the form you left behind.
The unknown blistered facing flags askew upon the biers they mark wedged between the tree’s webbed feet Is living proof that men must fear; names mean nothing to nature here.
Though Earth has held your name upright slow moving time has wrought its change; skeletal remains seeking rebirth remarry to achieve what you could not; path to Mecca: world without end.
Mine Quick Voice of Aquarius 