Slumbering Gods

Making a Place for the Light of Gnosis

2011-12-29T15:05:00.000-08:00

The world needs my cooperation. I suppose it needs all of our cooperation too. In economics class we learn that human desire is practically endless and therefore scarcity exists. Like a PEZ candy dispenser, once one attraction or aversion is satiated, the next one is there waiting for our attention. Economic efficiency means 'more and faster'. This is the reality of the world. This is my reality, at least mostly.

I don't think desire is bad, not real desire. But often what passes for desire is merely lifeless diversions or things of a habitual nature - a reflection of things once full of life that have now become encrusted and locked into place.

I've also wondered at the question of 'justification' and what that means. What, in terms of the every day choices we make can be justified? Should everything be justified? To what degree does the need to justify favor this zombie encrustation process.

There is something in me that is eternally justifying, evaluating, calculating, protecting and holding on to. I suppose that's just the way things work but sometimes in seeing this, I recognize the sterility and pointlessness of it as well. The whole thing is a lifeless treadmill going nowhere fast.

I don't think there's anything wrong with making it in the world, but if all of my actions are 100% driven by this way of seeing things, where is there room for anything else?

Is there anything else? It seems so to me. In quite moments between the waking world and the world of dreams there is a something else. And I pursue this something else into my waking moments. I want to capture it in unsuspecting moments. I want to work with it in the way I do things too.

To me this 'something' turns the whole striving mess on it's head. Scarcity has nothing to do with it.

At this time of year as Gnostics, we celebrate the coming of the light into the world. During Advent, we waited in quiet anticipation for its arrival. During this time of Christmas we recognize its humble birth and incarnation into the world.

I imagine the world, if it could even perceive it, would see this new life as an alien intruder perhaps or even be threatened. Harod comes to mind.

What I've been slowly realizing again and again is that in my life and the decisions I make, there are no guarantees. I have to work to make space for this light. It doesn't happen by itself as far as I can tell. Like an infant, it must be protected and nurtured.

How to protect and nurture the child, I have no idea but I know making space in meditation and paying attention to dreams and fellow travelers is allowing a feedback process to happen. But I have to give it priority and make space. That's not easy.

The difficulty is that in terms that the world or system understands, all of this is unjustifiable. The infant remains unjustified because the child is non-rational. I suspect that all of us who to any degree are doing this are running against the grain of things and what do we have to say for ourselves?

As for me, I need to learn to drop the need to rationalize everything. That is likely my biggest bane and it's very tiresome. Some things just are and the best things are non-rational from poetry to jazz music to kissing to general silliness. I know this and yet...

Protecting this light against all odds is what matters most. Every time I falter I must get up and keep going. There is no other way that I'm aware of.

There is a passage in Jung's Memories, Dreams and Reflections which speaks to this I think. It was a time when he was just coming to an understanding of two sides to himself.

About this time I had a dream which both frightened and encouraged me. It was night in some unknown place, and I was making slow and painful headway against a mighty wind. Dense fog was flying along everywhere. I had my hands cupped around a tiny light which threatened to go out at any moment. Everything depended on my keeping this little light alive. Suddenly I had the feeling that something was coming up behind me. I looked back, and saw a gigantic black figure following me. But at the same moment I was conscious, in spite of my terror, that I must keep my little light going through night and wind, regardless of all dangers. When I awoke I realized at once that the figure was a "specter of the Brocken," my own shadow on the swirling mists, brought into being by the little light I was carrying. I knew, too, that this little light was my consciousness, the only light I have. My own understanding is the sole treasure I possess, and the greatest. Though infinitely small and fragile in comparison with the powers of darkness, it is still a light, my only light.

Is Suffering Justified?

2011-10-17T08:47:00.000-07:00

The title of this blog is a question posed by Father Scott Rassbach+ at the Spiral Inward forum. I had been thinking about this question quite a bit since he posted it and finally got around to posting a reply. I thought it would be good to put here on my blog as well. Many people have posted to the question so far.

******

There's a lot to think about here. First do the words go together? The word justification implies an intent or will is present as distinct from something outside the realm of conscious influence such as a tsunami.

At first it seems to me that suffering arises out of both realms, that which we could have done something about and that which is outside our control. Is that which arises outside our realm of influence suffering or merely pain? I would call someone dying a slow horrible death from an illness to be suffering. The word 'justification' doesn't seem to apply here because it is outside the realm of intent.

Yet there still seems to me to be a difference between the word 'suffering' and mere pain. One is transient while the other is not.

I think there is a metaphysical suffering from an experienced sense of separation. I think this is the type of suffering that is in question.

This suffering rests in a deeper place and endures while unconsciously influencing outlook and perception. It results in an ambient tinting of reality which often perpetuates itself because when one acts from a place of suffering there often is no clarity. Without clarity one can bumble along too and fro in a kind of feedback loop haze which amplifies and feeds itself.

I think this process is associated with the Wheel of fortune tarot card.

It's through spiritual practices of one kind or another that suffering is brought to the surface to where it is directly felt or seen. Sometimes a caring person who can see the suffering in another may point them to their own suffering as well. In buddhism I think this kind of action is referred to as “skillful means” but am not sure about that. I think there is a corollary in Gnosticism but don't know if it has a name either. It may be experienced that the practice of meditation, magic or whatever is what brings about suffering.

And then at this point it may be asked “Is suffering justified?”. But in this case the suffering was already there and merely brought to the surface. When this happens it is experienced as pain and there is an opportunity for healing to happen if one doesn't try to bury it again where it remains as suffering.

There is a verse in “The hymn of Jesus” that speaks to this:
“If thou hadst known how to suffer, Thou wouldst have power not to suffer.
Know then how to suffer, and thou hast power not to suffer.”

It has been my experience so far that the suffering is removed or healed in bits and pieces rather than as a big chunk.

The question still remains, was and is all that suffering justified? Was it necessary in any way?

I don't understand why suffering exists in the first place but only that it does. So I don't understand the answer to the question but hope to have more insight into it.

I suspect at one level it wasn't meant to be but because of our stupor or sense of disconnection from the Pleroma or the All we err and let suffering happen where it doesn't need to. For the most part if not the whole part it is through us that suffering happens. I'm not talking about pain which comes and goes but suffering. It is pain that is in the nature of things but suffering doesn't need to be.

I don't believe in running away from it or escaping it but facing it the best we can because that is where our humanity lies. I think real human warmth and love lie where the suffering is, not somewhere else. I read somewhere that there are two sides of the equation that are a part of reality. There is pain in creation but also love. Pain is okay because it is part of the whole but without love it turns ugly and becomes suffering.

So it might sound a little corny, but perhaps we are meant to wake up to love so that suffering can be healed. A real love that was never not there because it was always the case.

I agree with Sr. Shilo that it is for us not God or rather God manifesting as our actions that love can happen in the world and suffering can be mitigated. I like what Father Stratford+ said about the demi-urge being a construct or fabrication. When we evade our part of the responsibility for the way things are we often project it on the other. The demi-urge is a perfect projection canvas.

Holy Archangel Uriel

2011-06-21T20:48:00.000-07:00

"And Uriel said to me: 'Here shall stand the angels who have connected themselves with women, and their spirits assuming many different forms are defiling mankind and shall lead them astray into sacrificing to demons 'as gods', (here shall they stand,) till 'the day of' the great judgment in which they shall be judged till they are made an end of. And the women also of the angels who went astray shall become sirens.' And I, Enoch alone, saw the vision, the ends of all things; and no man shall see as I have seen." ~Book of Enoch

Currently I'm trying to understand Uriel. It seems now to me that Uriel sheds light on where energy is being given to the creative act in conjunction with lower powers. Where the act of invisible seduction is happening by the powers of fate.

Perhaps personally Uriel can show us where we're giving too much energy to the false gods of this world or the system.

"We Dance"

2011-03-25T09:15:00.000-07:00

When Joseph Campbell was in Japan for a conference on religion, he overheard an American delegate say to a Shinto priest, “We’ve been now to a number of ceremonies and seen many of your shrines. But I don’t get your ideology. I don’t get your theology.”

The Shinto priest paused as if in deep thought, and then slowly shook his head. “I don’t think we have an ideology. I don’t think we have a theology. We dance.”

~From The Power of Myth series

Valentine for Denise

2011-02-14T09:27:00.000-08:00

Your dark eyes

the curves that grace your face

There is something about your presence

When I'm with you I know I'm home

where I've always belonged

This moment

This time

with you

A universe in a grain of sand

that is our life together

This one life

me, you and our children too

All eternity held in this moment
this one life we have together

I love you my darling Denise
I've always loved you
and all my longings are resolved in you

Happy Valentines my dear Denise

What is this longing?

2011-02-14T04:59:00.000-08:00

What is this longing that hurts this way?

How can such sweetness make me undone?

I don't want anything else

only to be here with you.

To cry a thousand tears

a thousand years.

I don't want anything else.

Just this moment

just this one time with you.

Michaelmas

2010-09-29T18:57:00.000-07:00

Michael is the bad ass of heaven and when it comes to spiritual warfare, he is the one you want on your side aiding in the struggle with the archons and rulers.

He helps you find them, face them and say to them, "I see you now, I know that you're there and with that I give you a name and number". After all, the source of their power is their ability not to be seen.

Here's a link to a gnostic homily of St. Michael defender of gnosis by Rev. Steve Marshall.

The Jhanas, Gnosis and Maps

2010-05-25T19:27:00.000-07:00

I've just finished a book on concentration meditation called Practicing the Jhanas by Stephen Snyder and Tina Rasmussen. It gives a pretty thorough map of the Jhana territory and their mastery. The Jhanas are standard meditation states that have been known since long before Buddhism.

One interesting point the book makes is that one should not aim for spiritual attainments including Jhanas. I imagine that applies to gnosis as well. One learns to do the meditation well just as one hopefully does in anything else in life. The jhanas arise naturally on their own.

I have reflected lately on how much striving and efforting I have put into spiritual practice. It is an interesting point of view to aim between striving and complete slacking.

I have also lately begin dis-trusting all spiritual maps. They are all well meant to be sure and maybe have their place at some point on the spiritual adventure. I am finding a lot of disagreements among various seasoned spiritual practitioners across all traditions and am coming to realize there's a lot of work to be done in this area.

My advice to self is to take the recipe book mentality with a grain of salt. It's useful to a point, but one must always be willing to let go of their ideas of how things are supposed to go down. There's a lot that goes on behind the scenes one cannot be aware of and one should know that this is the case and be OK with it too.

The self that does the practice is simply part of the big picture: an important part, but a part nevertheless.

Wisdom of Chief Seattle

2010-04-22T21:19:00.000-07:00

Annunciation

2010-03-24T19:23:00.000-07:00

Mary was greatly troubled at his words and wondered what kind of greeting this might be. But the angel said to her, "Do not be afraid, Mary, you have found favor with God. You will be with child and give birth to a son, and you are to give him the name Jesus. He will be great and will be called the Son of the Most High. The Lord God will give him the throne of his father David, and he will reign over the house of Jacob forever; his kingdom will never end."
"How will this be," Mary asked the angel, "since I am a virgin?"
The angel answered, "The Holy Spirit will come upon you, and the power of the Most High will overshadow you. So the holy one to be born will be calledthe Son of God. Even Elizabeth your relative is going to have a child in her old age, and she who was said to be barren is in her sixth month. For nothing is impossible with God.
"I am the Lord's servant," Mary answered. "May it be to me as you have said." Then the angel left her.

-From Luke

Archangel Gabriel

2010-03-24T19:20:00.000-07:00

In the sixth month, God sent the angel Gabriel to Nazareth, a town in Galilee, to a virgin pledged to be married to a man named Joseph, a descendant of David. The virgin's name was Mary. The angel went to her and said, "Greetings, you who are highly favored! The Lord is with you."

-from Luke

Montesegur Day

2010-03-16T15:31:00.000-07:00

On March 16th 1244 a fire burned at the base of a mountain known as "The Pog"* in the heart of the Languadoc region in Southern France. Around 220 souls were marched into that fire. The fortress here at the top of the mountain was where the Cathars put up their last temporal resistance for their life and their faith - for the right to live and practice a spirituality that for them connected them to their destiny in light, truth, love and gnosis.

For them, to deny this connection was to deny their own souls. For them, it made more sense to face the fires at the feet of unknowing faces and empty eyes then to turn away from the light of the Good God.

I can't imagine what it must have been like. What kind of doubts if any were had by these people of the Languadoc. If the soldiers who carried this out felt anything when they saw the eyes of children as they looked to their mother's and fathers in bewilderment.

What I do know is that they are not forgotten.

* It's interesting to note that the mountain's name "The Pog" and it's similarity to the word "pogrom" which means an organized massacre of an ethnic group. I don't know if this is a coincidence or if the terms are somehow historically connected.

Order of St. Esclarmonde Rule

2010-02-09T19:42:00.000-08:00

I'm currently in the process of contemplating the six items in the OSE rule. It recently dawned on me that although I have a poetic sense for what they mean, I could have a more concrete understanding of each of these items and how they can be manifest in my day to day life. I also thought it would be a rewarding exercise to do so.

I also realized how easy it is for the rule to grow dim and sink more and more into the background as the weeks and months go by. With a busy life and laziness with whatever time is leftover it seems easy for this to happen even in spite of the daily practice of prayer and stillness.
I recently printed out the Rule, Vow and Prayer and put it next to my desk at work to keep them more in the foreground

I think that there is a lot to be explored there, a lot that I haven't tapped into yet or even thought about tapping into. I just noticed that each of the six elements of the rule can work with a busy life or a quiet one. It doesn't demand a lifestyle change - "nothing harsh, nothing burdensome"

A link to the rule can be found here:

http://egina2.blogspot.com/2007/03/order-of-saint-esclarmonde.html

Swiss Cheese Derby Car

2010-01-15T10:40:00.000-08:00

This morning Jonah awoke to a swiss cheese pinewood derby car. After his bedtime I discovered I massively miscalculated the amount of lead that got poured in. It was a brick. Spent the night drilling several holes through car, lead and all to bring weight to speck. After a morning bondo session the car looks just like it did when he went to bed only lighter.

It is now ready for him to finish sanding and painting today for the race tomorrow. No one else will ever know about the internal weirdness of this car.

Ambitionless

2009-12-27T21:22:00.000-08:00

OK. So I've lacked ambition and inspiration for this blog for many moons. If this blog is going to continue it is going to take pure will power and habit.

Must look into understanding the will more.

What is the sign of your father in you?

2009-09-23T10:12:00.001-07:00

Jesus said, "If they say to you, 'Where did you come from?', say to them, 'We came from the light, the place where the light came into being on its own accord and established itself and became manifest through their image.' If they say to you, 'Is it you?', say, 'We are its children, we are the elect of the living father.' If they ask you, 'What is the sign of your father in you?', say to them, 'It is movement and repose.'"

Gospel of Thomas - 50

I was wrong

2009-09-08T14:48:00.000-07:00

Last September 21 I said some silliness regarding having nothing useful to say for awhile. I was confused and I was wrong.

I think everyone has something useful to say at any time, and yes, sometimes things can be said with silence too.

The key is to accept responsibility for what one says and to be quick to apologize if any harm comes of it. That's all.

My time before you - with you - and always

2009-08-03T14:20:00.000-07:00

From the beginning I sought you
Somehow my heart knowing you were there
Our breathes mingling
A thousand kisses
All before I saw your face

dear love

Your heart was in me
And mine in yours
You've been with me all along

And now
a thousand moments we share:

Sophie's smile
Jonah's puppy eyes
Our first baby - that life changing moment
Sitting together worried by Lexie's side at the hospital

Happy moments
Stupid moments

And if I'm ever gone from this place
And in tears of longing to rent asunder what cannot be

Know this one thing honey
I've never left you
Where could I go?

I'm in your tears too
in your longing
and in your sighs

I'm still here ...
Here in your heart
Having been there all along

Acrostic Gnostic

2009-07-19T18:01:00.000-07:00

It makes sense when one has been raised in the belief in ole' papa grump pants and then rejected him for atheism or agnosticism. That's what I did anyway.

The challenge with this scenario for many is that the baby was never recognized in the bathwater until much later if at all. I'm still trying to figure out how much baby is actually in the bathwater of my birth religion. That the term 'God' can even point to something meaningful has become apparent to me in the last few years. Beyond that, God, the universe, consciousness and what it all has to do with my little life presents a big puzzle to me.

The problem in even having a conversation about God, I believe, has a lot to do with semantics. I believe a lot of atheists and agnostics have some understanding of God except that they're just not calling it that. The difficulty is in pointing it out because it can be so insanely difficult if not impossible to point to.

Divinity as I understand it is more likely to be found in the quiet still places and unexpected places too. It has more to do with the mysteries of life pointed to through the metaphors of myth, ritual and poetry. Curiosity and the continual awe and wonder of life can draw one nearer to this transcendental reality than a set of obedience tricks we're supposed to turn for ole papa grump pants

It is said that everything rests within divinity and divinity is within everything and divinity is everything.

It is in a teacup
a sneeze
a child's grin
a clock radio
and smelly arm pits too.

If you haven't noticed this, that's OK. Perhaps someday you will. In the meantime...

Atheism and agnosticism are not really problems at all if they are not adopted rigidly as exclusive lenses by which to view the world; but instead as potentially temporary way-stations which allow for the changes of one's views when and if new data or experiences are realized.

I think the crux of the matter comes down to 'description' versus 'prescription' of a world view. If one describes themselves as agnostic, objectivist or whatever, this is just an honest assessment of where one is at in their understanding at that moment in time.

Things become non-useful when this way of seeing things is then prescribed for others as the "correct" view. It assumes that no-one else could possibly be working from a different set of experiences or reasoning that would nullify the "correct" worldview or turn it on it's head.

How many "correct" views have been held in the past with a high degree of certainty only to be found wrong? How many more times will this have to happen before we realize just how puzzling things really are. The universe is a mystery in all of its aspects.

My brother-in-law, Randy, posted this George Carlin quote on facebook the other day.

"I'm not an atheist and I'm not an agnostic. I'm an acrostic. The whole thing puzzles me."

Yeah. I get that. Totally.

BTW - A wonderful post on this subject by Father Stratford+ can be found here.

Saint Julian of Norwich

2009-05-08T10:01:00.000-07:00

From Saint Andrew's

For here we are so blind and foolish that we never seek God until he, of his goodness, shows himself to us. It is when we do see something of him by his grace that we are stirred by that same grace to seek him, and with earnest longing to see still more of his blessedness. So I saw him and sought him; I had him and wanted him. It seems to me that this is and should be an experience common to us all.

-Julian of Norwich

The Word of the Silence

2009-04-12T10:06:00.000-07:00

A bare impersonal hush is now my mind,
A world of sight clear and inimitable,
A volume of silence by a Godhead signed,
A greatness pure, virgin of will.

Once on its pages Ignorance could write
In a scribble of intellect the blind guess of Time
And cast gleam-messages of ephemeral light,
A food for souls that wander on Nature's rim.

But now I listen to a greater Word
Born from the mute unseen omniscient Ray:
The Voice that only Silence' ear has heard
Leaps missioned from an eternal glory of Day.

All turns from a wideness and unbroken peace
To a tumult of joy in a sea of wide release.

-Sri Aurobindo

Why on Earth?

2009-01-21T10:16:00.000-08:00

"But why on earth," you may ask, "should it be necessary for man to achieve, by hook or by crook, a higher level of consciousness?" This is truly the crucial question, and I do not find the answer easy. Instead of a real answer I can only make a confession of faith: 1 believe that, after thousands and millions of years, someone had to realize that this wonderful world of mountains and oceans, suns and moons, galaxies and nebulae, plants and animals, exists. From a low hill in the Athi plains of East Africa I once watched the vast herds of wild animals grazing in soundless stillness, as they had done from time immemorial, touched only by the breath of a primeval world. I felt then as if I were the first man, the first creature, to know that all this is. The entire world round me was still in its primeval state; it did not know that it was. And then, in that one moment in which I came to know, the world sprang into being; without that moment it would never have been. All Nature seeks this goal and finds it fulfilled in man, but only in the most highly developed and most fully conscious man.

CG Jung - "Psychological Aspects of the Mother Archetype" (1939). In CW 8: The Structure and Dynamics of the Psyche. P. 177

Moon Poem

2008-11-21T09:22:00.000-08:00

From Sesame Street

Diversity and the Machine

2008-10-28T13:16:00.000-07:00

I've been thinking recently regarding how diversity and abundance arise spontaneously in the universe and the existence of an opposing force which exists for the sake of control and manageability. I'm thinking of the apparent duality that is seen in the world between these two forces.

On one side there is quality (Think Amish quilts) and the other quantity (Think McDonalds).

On one side there is concrete reality here and present. You can touch it, feel it, be in it and be it. There is nothing outside it. It's as real as it gets.

On the other side are to-do-lists, the countless "hurry ups", "Can't stop now, I got this deadline you see.", "What were you thinking?.", etc etc.

When we get so caught up in the franticness of maximizing whatever it is we're maximizing, where are the moments that we actually bask in the abundance that is already there. How often can we look at another person and instead of seeing a human resource, project, wife, or student, we see an angel?

Well, I'm going to go back to trying my darndest to be internally silent and present. Here is a youtube post by bbbleaver I just ran across which seemed to resonate with these thoughts.

Make Art not War

2008-10-09T11:02:00.000-07:00

Artwork by Shepard Fairey

I recently found this manifesto by Mary Anne Davis here.

The current differentiation between art, architecture, craft, and design is false, it is a false schism promoted by the art world. This unnatural taxonomy has crippled the artists and turned those who participate or attempt to participate into victims of fashion. Walter Gropius said in his manifesto of the Bauhaus, “There is no essential difference between the artist and the craftsperson. The artist is an exalted craftsperson.” (sic)

The conscious cooperation and collaboration of artists and craftspeople must be reintroduced to rise above the current constriction and strangulation extant in the art world.

This artistic differentiation and intolerance, based on prejudice and fear of commerce, must stop. We must take matters back into our own hands and return to the idealism of our youth. Art schools filled us with impossible dreams and gave us no concrete way of supporting ourselves except through teaching, working at odd or related jobs
or that most coveted and jealously desired possibility, hitting it big.

It is time to take back the power inherent in our decision to become artists and to work at a grass roots level to create objects for use and contemplation that uplift the spirit. Participate in craft fairs. Make Xerox art. Sell art cheaply. Explore unexpected venues. Embrace commerce. The most important artists throughout history were
adroit business people.

When Albert Einstein discovered the theory of relativity, he wanted to explain it so that a school child could understand it. Let our work become that clear. Our ideas can be challenged and clarified by a direct experience with the public.

Make useful, beautiful, interesting, and or challenging objects. Use your talent and intelligence to educate an inquisitive public. Make a living doing what you love to do. Be irreverent. Get up. Get going.

There is a revolution going on in science, math, economics, sociology and psychology that is recognizing the parallel experiences of all the disciplines. Conciliance. Synthesis. Invite the public. Make art. Not war.

Love

2008-09-30T08:05:00.000-07:00

1 If I speak with the tongues of men and of angels, but have not love, I am become sounding brass, or a clanging cymbal. 2 And if I have the gift of prophecy, and know all mysteries and all knowledge; and if I have all faith, so as to remove mountains, but have not love, I am nothing. 3 And if I bestow all my goods to feed the poor, and if I give my body to be burned, but have not love, it profiteth me nothing.

4 Love suffereth long, and is kind; love envieth not; love vaunteth not itself, is not puffed up, 5 doth not behave itself unseemly, seeketh not its own, is not provoked, taketh not account of evil; 6 rejoiceth not in unrighteousness, but rejoiceth with the truth; 7 beareth all things, believeth all things, hopeth all things, endureth all things.

8 Love never faileth: but whether there be prophecies, they shall be done away; whether there be tongues, they shall cease; whether there be knowledge, it shall be done away. 9 For we know in part, and we prophesy in part: 10 but when that which is perfect is come, that which is in part shall be done away. 11 When I was a child, I spake as a child, I felt as a child, I thought as a child: now that I am become a man, I have put away childish things. 12 For now we see in a mirror, darkly; but then face to face: now I know in part; but then shall I know even as also I have been known. 13 But now abideth faith, hope, love, these three; and the greatest of these is love.

1 Corinthians 13

Going quiet shhhh..

2008-09-21T10:24:00.000-07:00

I read this in "The Wisdom of Solomon" this morning. I hope it wasn't meant to be taken literally. It's pretty lame if it was. Taken metaphorically it had an impact on me.

11: For whoso despiseth wisdom and nurture, he is miserable, and their hope is vain, their labours unfruitful, and their works unprofitable:
12: Their wives are foolish, and their children wicked:
13: Their offspring is cursed. Wherefore blessed is the barren that is undefiled, which hath not known the sinful bed: she shall have fruit in the visitation of souls.
14: And blessed is the eunuch, which with his hands hath wrought no iniquity, nor imagined wicked things against God: for unto him shall be given the special gift of faith, and an inheritance in the temple of the Lord more acceptable to his mind.
15: For glorious is the fruit of good labours: and the root of wisdom shall never fall away.
16: As for the children of adulterers, they shall not come to their perfection, and the seed of an unrighteous bed shall be rooted out.
17: For though they live long, yet shall they be nothing regarded: and their last age shall be without honour.

All of our works and the fruits of our efforts are like our children. This blog requires effort and energy on my part.

My last post and response to my friend Joel, has really bothered me for awhile. I'm often in a rush to push my opinion out there because I think that I have so many important things to say. And sometimes I think I'm really really clever in the way I say things. I think, at least hope that everyone else knows better.

But even when I'm quiet (because I'm not a good conversationalist - usually a conversation killer), I sometimes think the poor other is so lost, so I'll just sit here and feel badly for them. Sometimes also my envious feelings keep me outwardly quiet too. But inside my little calculating engine is always and tirelessly cranking away from dawn to dusk throwing out it's agenda net onto the world. And it's so noisy too. Lately the wind has been blowing the net back and I'm getting tangled in it.

I wonder how often instead I just sit and listen to a friend, wife or one of my kids and just be with them. Everyone I love that I share my life with so deserves the best things from me. To do this I have to let go of all sorts of things I can't see clearly that seem to be me. In short, I have to let go of who-I-think-I-am.

Life has a way of filling up with all the trite things that seem so urgent at the time and pushing out the really important yet unassuming parts - you know - the raindrops on roses and puppy dog tails kind of stuff; the only things that are really real.

Who-I-think-I-am requires a lot of energy to maintain, energy that I suspect would flow beautifully and in the most divine ways if it weren't diverted thusly. That's why I started this spiritual quest in the first place. Because in a few precious and beautiful moments in life, a scent like an incense wafted or sometimes pushed through and past who-I-think-I-am and I turned my head for just a second. Gradually I became hooked.

Like the time I was caught off guard when my three year old son said "Look at my shit, my shit is new. Do you like it?". He couldn't pronounce his 'r' sound and was referring to his shirt. I thought it was precious to tears.

There was the time my first daughter was born and the doctor put this wet slick babyish thing in my arms saying "Here's your daughter", and I was overwhelmed beyond words to the complete helplessness of that moment.

This was just raw life, the most ordinary thing really. Everyone experiences this kind of stuff.

Spiritual practices have the effect of accelerating these kind of moments. That is, the moments aren't really being accelerated so much as I'm waking up to more and more of them more often. The truth is there is no deficiency of these moments at any time - they're always there, at least that what the great teachers say. My experience seems to be confirming this so far.

And each of these moments have a wounding effect on who-I-think-I-am. And it's sometimes painful and sometimes unbearable. And yet there is a also sweetness in this wounding. Gradually I have the sense of falling in love. Each time who-I-think-I-am is wounded I become more helpless in love.

Who or what is the object of this love? I've learned to call her Sophia. I even named my last child in her honor because to me she is life itself, although hidden most the time.

I don't think who-I-think-I-am knows anything about her yet. He's pretty busy falling apart these days and trying to pick up the pieces. Pretty morbid actually. It's an internally messy affair that gets into everything I do including writing these words and posting.

My understanding is this process is called Agon or sometimes referred to as the dark nights.

There is a small handful of people who actually read this blog. Yeah I figured out how to track that - pretty cool actually. It is for you and me that I'm going to shut up for awhile till I get through this. It could be several years. Who knows.

I don't want to mislead anyone who is looking for spiritual direction and there is a lot of us really. I have a tough enough time sorting through other peoples spiritual trash and taking all the wrong things to heart. I know I shouldn't be contributing to anyone else's confusion.

I don't think I can write this blog till I have more clarity myself. I need to refocus on my own spiritual practices for awhile until a time comes (and hopefully it does) that I can say "Yeah, I think I have something useful to say or do that might be of help" - the day when all (or most) of what I have to offer is free of who-I-think-I-am.

Until then I may post an occasional poem, quote or something artistic. Nothing much really.

Shared thoughts with an old friend

2008-09-11T20:35:00.000-07:00

Today I shared some thoughts with an old friend. We were discussing conspiracy theories and after stating that these theories for the most part didn't have merit he wrote:

My premise that people try to make sense of their experience of life, and that they will believe what they need to believe, when they need to believe it still stands.

My response:

I think conspiracies happen but most you hear about aren't true. Those that have a basis in truth are never all powerful. Your final analysis that we're all creating our own personal manufactured conspiracies sounds right to me although sad. Very sad.

You, I and every other human male comes from a long line of risk-taking warriors. I mean, every one of our fathers all the way back grew up and successfully found a mate for at least one shag. Considering the survival rate per generation in primitive man with all the shit they had going against them, our lineages are full of success stories. I think we are designed to have something to fight against, to push up against. We're risk takers at heart.

Today we have all this extra wealth. I mean even though I'm broke, I still live like a king. Not bad of itself, but we haven't evolved to figure out what to do with ourselves and our excesses.

So there's this perceived lack, like a key inside that should have been opened, you know like what happens when you fall in love for the first time. It's said somewhere that the girl we loved in some way was already inside us before we met. She just woke THAT up inside ourselves when we laid eyes on her. And there's a lot more of THAT that isn't waking up because our environment has changed. But evolution's not that fast. Our mind has out-evolved the rest of us.

So what does a mind do when the soul is lost?

Back in the day, living was hard work enough without sitting around inventing self-delusional bullshit. Because there's all this relative wealth and time, there's all this new space that has opened up. Nature abhors a vacuum and the powers are at work making inroads. There are whole systems of bullshit being spawned in the minds of man and man is taking his place inside his own bullshit worlds like a termite building himself into its own mound. The termites children will never know what daddy knew.

But what's natural for termites is not for man.

2008-09-01T06:15:00.000-07:00

In the last analysis, the individual person is responsible for living his own life and for "finding himself." If he persists in shifting his responsibility to somebody else, he fails to find out the meaning of his own existence.

-Thomas Merton

The Assumption of the Holy Sophia

2008-08-15T21:11:00.000-07:00

Today is the feast of the assumption of the Holy and Blessed Sophia. This day is a celebration of the turning about of Sophia from her captors and unfaithful lovers after crying out in despair.

There are various versions of this story. A version that is striking in its imagery and sense of cosmic drama and heroism is from the book Pistis Sophia.

It starts here (G.R.S. Mead translation) with the Christ being Sophia's counterpart and bridegroom being sent by the First Father to rescue Sophia.

"It came to pass, therefore, that the power which had come out of the Height, that is I, in that my Father sent me to save Pistis Sophia out of the chaos, [that] I, therefore, and also the power which did go from me, and the soul which I had received from Sabaōth, the Good,--they drew towards one another and become a single light-stream, which shone very exceedingly. I called down Gabriēl and Michaēl out of the æons, at the command of my Father, the First Mystery which looketh within, and I gave unto them the light-stream and let them go down into the chaos to help Pistis Sophia and to take the light-powers, which the emanations of Self-willed had taken from her, from them and give them to Pistis Sophia.

Later

"It came to pass then, when the light-stream had ingathered into Pistis Sophia all her light-powers, which it had taken from the emanations of Self-willed, that she became shining throughout; and the light-powers also in Pistis Sophia, which the emanations of Self-willed had not taken, became joyful again and filled themselves with light. And the lights which were poured into Pistis Sophia, quickened the body of her matter, in which no light was present, and which was on the point of perishing or perished. And they raised up all her powers which were on the point of being dissolved. And they took unto themselves a light-power and became again as they were before, and they increased again in their sense of the Light. And all the light-powers of Sophia knew themselves mutually through my light-stream and were saved through the light of that stream. And my light-stream, when. it had taken away the lights from the emanations of Self-willed, which they had taken away from Pistis Sophia, poured them into Pistis Sophia, and turned itself about and went up out of the chaos."

The imagery with its "light powers" and cosmic archangels calls to remembrance a universal drama that is in some way a map or mirror of our own journey here and back out of each of our own personal edge-points on the rim of chaos.

This day then is a celebration also of our own turning about when we've come as low as we can and we begin the slow and halting ascent back to our true home in the Pleroma. It marks the point where our individuation begins.

The Tarot

2008-08-11T19:20:00.000-07:00

I'm relatively new to the Tarot and have recently began studying. It is promoted as great tool for contemplation and meditation that many use to get in touch with their sub-conscious. Some gnostics use it in this manner as a tool for praxis. A lot of the symbols come from the Golden Dawn and the Kabbalah. The Golden Dawn derived much of their symbols from earlier alchemical knowledge.

Each of the 22 major arcana have been mapped to the 22 paths between the sephiroth on the Tree of Life and as such they can be seent to represent the "movement" between the various realms between heaven and earth. The language of the conscious mind is through language where words mean very specific things. Conversely the sub-conscious mind seems to work well with symbols. In the west most of us have developed our left analytical mind at the expense of our sub-conscious mind.

It is the working with symbols that are designed to stimulate and interact with a part of ourselves that we aren't usually directly aware of that the Tarot is used for.

I have found these books pretty informative in the use of Tarot in a contemplative fashion:
The Kabbalah Experience and The Watkins Tarot Handbook both by Naomi Ozaniec

It should be clear that the sacred images of the Tarot serve a spiritual purpose. In common with the vast variety of worldwide spiritual icons, the sacred images of the Tarot serve to feed the contemplative and reflective instincts and as such have rightfully earned a place within the spiritual traditions of the west. The sacred icons of the Tarot form a key aspect of a Mystery School curriculum as doorways leading into the realm of ageless Wisdom. This is the deeper gift of the Tarot.

-from the foreward of The Watkins Tarot Handbook

Peace

The Eternal Feminine

2008-07-29T13:25:00.000-07:00

I am the crown of manifold births and deaths:
I am the interpreter of mysteries and the enlightener of souls.
In the elements of the body is love imprisoned: lying asleep in the caves of Iacchos;
in the crib of the oxen of Demeter.
But when the day-star of the soul ariseth over the earth, then is the epiphany of love.
Therefore until the labor of the third day be fulfilled, the light of love is unmanifest.
Then I shall unlock the gates of dawn;
and the glory of God shall ascend before the eyes of men.

- Anna Kingsford

Holy Mary of Magdala

2008-07-22T18:49:00.000-07:00

The Gospel According to Mary

Chapter 5

3 Peter answered and spoke concerning these same things.

4 He questioned them about the Savior: Did He really speak privately with a woman and not openly to us? Are we to turn about and all listen to her? Did He prefer her to us?

5 Then Mary wept and said to Peter, My brother Peter, what do you think? Do you think that I have thought this up myself in my heart, or that I am lying about the Savior?

6 Levi answered and said to Peter, Peter you have always been hot tempered.

7 Now I see you contending against the woman like the adversaries.

8 But if the Savior made her worthy, who are you indeed to reject her? Surely the Savior knows her very well.

9 That is why He loved her more than us. Rather let us be ashamed and put on the perfect Man, and separate as He commanded us and preach the gospel, not laying down any other rule or other law beyond what the Savior said.

10 And when they heard this they began to go forth to proclaim and to preach.

Day of the Archangel Uriel

2008-06-22T03:36:00.000-07:00

This morning I lit a green candle and offered a prayer.

First for the carriers of the light
Second for the seekers of the light
and thirdly and most importantly for the clueless

May all souls find their way into who they are and home.

Gospel of Thomas

2008-05-18T12:49:00.000-07:00

The Fool

2008-05-01T09:38:00.001-07:00

silly † naive † fortune cookies † La La La † unabashed † kitten † yawn † tripping clumsy † no-thought † late riser † impetuous † curious † conversation killer † bulldoze † impulsive † spontaneous † playful † surfacey † shallow † pretty lights † sparkly † dazed † glazed with sprinkles on top † drunk † thoughtless † treading † right to the edge † daring † jokester † sprawled out † ice cream licker † sharing lollipops † bare feet † no worries † ignorant † innocent † unknowing † happy † trusting † unwitting sacrifice † sleepy eyes † clever

Did I forget anything?

Dark Night

2008-04-07T18:59:00.000-07:00

Stanzas Of The Soul

1. One dark night,
fired with love's urgent longings
- ah, the sheer grace! -
I went out unseen,
my house being now all stilled.

2. In darkness, and secure,
by the secret ladder, disguised,
- ah, the sheer grace! -
in darkness and concealment,
my house being now all stilled.

3. On that glad night,
in secret, for no one saw me,
nor did I look at anything,
with no other light or guide
than the one that burned in my heart.

4. This guided me
more surely than the light of noon
to where he was awaiting me
- him I knew so well -
there in a place where no one appeared.

5. O guiding night!
O night more lovely than the dawn!
O night that has united
the Lover with his beloved,
transforming the beloved in her Lover.

6. Upon my flowering breast
which I kept wholly for him alone,
there he lay sleeping,
and I caressing him
there in a breeze from the fanning cedars.

7. When the breeze blew from the turret,
as I parted his hair,
it wounded my neck
with its gentle hand,
suspending all my senses.

8. I abandoned and forgot myself,
laying my face on my Beloved;
all things ceased; I went out from myself,
leaving my cares
forgotten among the lilies.

-St John of the Cross

I'm not sure what it all means, but it's beautiful.

Becoming the Crocodile

2008-02-04T10:32:00.000-08:00

If you stand only on the safety of the banks spearing fish, how can you know the depths of the river? Can you fathom the darkness under a ledge of rock or understand the life of the fish writhing on your spear? You mistake the teeth of the crocodile as the edge of the abyss, but the chasm is more terrible than teeth, and certain.

I fulfill the law and the law demands your blood. I am Sebek the crocodile, the catastrophe, the devourer, the necessity. Impaled on my teeth, you shall be blessed for you will glimpse truth. I am only the secrets of your own dark heart, your lust, your greed, your anger, your flesh, to tear the darkness from your heart. I am the living power of water, the cry that catches in the throat, the sob that shatters stone.

On my teeth you smell the stink of flesh. To you I seem a living horror. But I tell you in truth, I am your own soul and it is with great sorrow that I crush the life you have made. I weep with the loss, but you do not believe. Such destruction is madness you say. You do not understand. Is it madness to cut the wheat so that bread can be made? When you were born into this bright land, did you not weep for the lost dark of the womb? Whether or not you understand the law, you exist because of it.

When you've reached the lips of the great devourer, you are staring into the jaws of creation.

- translation by Normandi Ellis
From The Egyptian Book of the Dead

Lin's new library

2007-11-23T07:30:00.000-08:00

Here is a list of all books committed to be sent to Lin. The intent is to avoid Lin having ten copies of "Living Gnosis" by Tau Malachi for instance.

Centering Prayer and inner awakening - Cynthia Bourgeault
Gnostic Gospels - Elaine Pagels
Jesus and the Lost Goddess - Timothy Freke and Peter Gandy
The Koran
The Kybalion

My Vows

2007-10-31T18:17:00.000-07:00

I've taken my vows into the Order of Esclarmonde. On September 19th I read them to my wife and have endeavored to practice the rule everyday.

For me this has been one of the grandest adventures of my life and in some sense dangerous; self discovery can always be a little unnerving.

A lot has happened in the last month since I joined the order as far as non-ordinary experiences go. I'm mostly in processing mode, trying to grok or make sense of my understanding of the world. It's amazing how something experienced in five seconds can change the way one looks at reality.

Another thing that is extraordinary is the fact that meditation really works. I mean it works like a freakin recipe book. The results are unpredictable and always unexpected, but the way one sees the world always is subject to change.

I don't consider myself wise by any stretch of the imagination but a movement towards wisdom is the light I follow.

"Heorte" - the Heart of the Oldest English Epic

2007-09-16T09:13:00.000-07:00

From Beowulf

"hige sceal the heardra heorte the cenre

mod sceal the mare the ure maegen lytlath

her lith ure ealdoe eall forheawen

god on greote a maeg gnornian

se the nu fram this wigplegan wendan thenceth"

The mind must be the firmer, the heart must be braver, the courage must be the greater, as our strength grows less. Here lies our lord all cut to pieces, the good man on the ground. If anyone thinks now to turn away from this war-play, may he be unhappy for ever after.

Pre-Nicean Gnosticism Summary

2007-09-10T20:17:00.000-07:00

The last Dallas Gnostic Meetup went very well!

I want to thank Daniel and Dart for their presentation on early Gnosticism. They spent over forty hours weaving threads from all sorts of sources to bring to life the context in which early Gnosticism came to life and putting into an hour.

There is really too much to put in this small summary. Hopefully I can get their paper up on the meetup site soon. I took a timeline from the meeting that fills two pages. We learned the original meaning of the word "zealot" and that Platonism influened Gnosticism heavily. Another tidbit I'm personally interested in following up is "Who were the Essenes and what was their role in Gnostic development?" Daniel and Dart's research shows that this question is pretty tricky.

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2007-08-25T15:31:00.000-07:00

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2007-08-04T18:20:00.000-07:00

There's Something About Mary

Mary, one of the most prominent women in the Bible and arguably the most prominent female in the New Testament has been a living legend since her introduction. Despite various attempts to suppress her importance, somehow she manages to make her way into the hearts and minds of devotees throughout the Christian world.

This yearning to grow the legend of Mary has resulted in all sorts of fantastic stories involving Mary and Jesus as lovers. The idea of the holy grail being the womb of Mary and the bloodline of Jesus was beginning to circulate around the thirteenth century. On July 22nd, 1209 the small town of Beziers was torched by Crusader dispatched by the pope as punishment for the heretical teaching that Christ and Mary had sexual relations

Compared to all the legends and myths surrounding Mary, truly there is almost nothing known about the actual Mary besides the small number of verses she is found in the Gospel Canon and early Gnostic writings. Whether or not she enjoyed existence as an actual person will probably never be known. This doesn't seem to matter as the myth of Mary has a life of its own and the breath that breathes life into her is the imagination looking for expression for its anima archetype.

The anima archetype, a term coined by Carl Jung represents an unconscious tendency toward expression of the female principle. Jung developed a theory regarding the union of opposites in the psyche. There are many conscious objects that have no meaning in the mind without their opposite counterpart, for example he says:

The whole nature of man presupposes woman, both physically and spiritually. His system is tuned into woman from the start, just as it is prepared for a quite definite world where there is water, light, air, salt, carbohydrates etc..

"Two Essays in Analytical Psychology" In CW 7: P. 188

When tendencies in the psyche are repressed they exibit themselves in a dark way or as part of a shadow self. Mary thus somehow became the patron saint of flagellents - those who abused themselves to scourge away sexual desires and tendencies.

It seems that she makes the whole spectrum of the anima archetype in Christianity. She is known not just for penitence, but for devotion and sensuality. She anointed Christ's feet before his death and was the first to see him risen.

Summary of "Is Gnosis and Enlightenment Real?"

2007-07-22T17:08:00.000-07:00

Here is a quick summary of the last Dallas Gnostic Meetup:

Six attended. The discussion regarding whether Gnosis is real or not lasted five minutes as Dart made the point none of us would be showing up if we thought to the contrary and we all agreed.

Further, the discussion went, what is it?

Daniel voiced his thoughts on the distinction between transcendance and enlightenment. A lot of what makes these discussions tricky is language and meaning so it was good to have the meaning of transcendance put out there. For more on transcendance look up Emerson who has written several essays on transcendance one of which is "Nature".

Some members of the group were interested in meditation and what it was and how to do it. Daniel, who has a background in Zen and some meditation gave some pointers.

He made a fantastic analogy - one I think I'll use from now on - but it requires pink and white sugar packets ;) Honestly, you had to be there.

At the end of the meetup, we took up Christin's concern about the noise level at the Cafe Brazil and agreed that we should pick a different location.

I'm going to visit a couple of places this upcoming week. One idea put on the table is the Half Price Book store on the 75 in Dallas - the really big one.

There was another place in Garland Stevi recommended but I can't remember. Stevi, maybe you can remind me and I'll go have a looksee.

All suggestions are welcome. Hopefully we'll be meeting in a more quiet atmosphere next time.

Apostolic Succession

2007-06-18T18:06:00.000-07:00

A lot of "modern minded" people looking into Gnosticism get creeped out by the idea of "Apostolic Succession" in many of the modern Gnostic churches. I, for one, have been one of them. I now see it as something symbolic as well as magical in the sense that Dumbo's feather was magical. He held the feather in his trunk and did what he thought he couldn't. I'm not sure completely what it means to those who are a part of that tradition and I suppose I may never.

I do remember when my uncle laid his hands on my head and with oil on his hands, he conferred the melchizedek priesthood to me in the LDS church. Although I was really struggling at the time with huge doubts about the validity of the whole thing, there was something very warm about being brought into a tradition that my family grew up in.

My uncle immediately asked that I give him a blessing to help him recieve guidance regarding an upcoming business trip. This caught me completely by surprise. Given that I doubted that God even existed and I shouldn't have even been there, I did the best I could. I don't remember my words, only that my hands were shaking and I studdered a bit. He didn't seem to notice and seemed quite satisfied with the blessing. So that was that.

Given this background, this post by Reverend Troy Pierce+ of the Ecclesia Gnostica struck a chord with me.

It's in the practice

2007-06-16T04:41:00.000-07:00

It should be noted that those who are passionate about practice and learning to actually practice correctly are much more likely to make progress than those who are not. Those who are able to channel all their rage, frustration, lust, greed, despair, confusion and anguish into trying to find a better way are the only ones who are likely to have what it takes to finally attain freedom. Those who are actually able to sit with the specific sensations that make up rage, lust, anger, confusion and all the rest with clarity, precision, acceptance of their humanity, and equanimity are even more likely to get enlightened. This paragraph deserves to be read more than once.

-Daniel Ingram
Mastering the Core Teaching of the Buddha

"Surfing" poem

2007-05-19T21:44:00.000-07:00

Surfing With You

Surfing the waves with you
Ride them in - each one
But I don't want to come to shore yet
Instead,
I take the next blissful wave with you
We've got forever baby
Let's play in our ocean today

Grasshopper Jesus

2007-05-03T16:10:00.000-07:00

Here's a story I recently wrote about a time in my life when I was eight or nine.

Grasshopper Jesus
Bill Branch

"What are you doing out there?" came the woman's voice from inside the house.

"Catching bugs." the boy replied softly.

"Speak up boy!"

The boy stood up and poked his head into the back door of the house. "I'm just catching bugs." he said, his voice still soft.

"Don't bring them in." she mumbled back. "And close the door, I don't want to cool off all of Arizona."

The boy obediently complied and shuffled back to the side of the house. As soon as he was out of sight of the back window, he slumped to the dirt where a mason jar was. He peered into the jar intently looking at something. The grasshoppers inside the jar, if they were able to make sense of what they saw, would have made out a freckled face with bleached sandy hair looking in at them. His hazel eyes distorted by the glass were empty - his face expressionless.

He had caught several grasshoppers minutes earlier in the tall grass of the yard. He spent his summer days there in the yard and already had a tan. Today he found relief from his intense boredom when a small swarm of insects made their way into his small kingdom. He plucked one of the small creatures out of the jar and considered it a moment. Its eyes were emerald green with perfect orb like symmetry. The boy could vaguely see his own reflection in its eyes. The grasshopper struggled vainly to pry his fingers off resulting in them tightening. A green ball of grass juice was produced from the depths of its mandibles which bled down the boys fingers.

"Yuck." he said slightly annoyed. He pulled a straight pin from out of his shirt pocket and with a single motion nailed the insect through its midsection and into the ground. The boy laid flat on his stomach and watched the grasshopper wiggle helplessly. The sun shone brightly off his white t-shirt. He could smell the earthiness of the dirt and the recently cut grass. As he gazed at the squirming hopper just a few inches from his face, his mind drifted back to a few months earlier.

It seemed to him a lifetime ago. He thought about the trailer his family lived in and the way it looked in the new lot. The sun was beginning to set and the home cast a long shadow across the dirt lot and into the road. His dad had moved his large family to the out-skirts of Apache Junction Arizona from Mesa which was just a few miles away. It was a new trailer park and a lot of people were moving in there that summer.

His dad had been rather subdued lately and didn't talk much anymore to the boy or his siblings. This move was met with hope. Maybe things would get better with this new life he had thought. Maybe his eight year old sister who was just a year younger than him would be allowed to live with them again.

Why she was gone was a mystery. Questions about why she was living with their aunt were always met with desperate hushes and half comforting words.

He stood in front of the trailer watching his dad set the house jacks.

"Can I help dad?" he asked.

"No, Bill. Why don't you see if your mother has anything for you to do." he replied without looking up from his work.

A group of boys were playing soccer in the empty lot across the street and were chasing after the ball.
"Wanna play" one of the boys said after Bill kicked it back.

Bill looked back at his father. His father, still sweating after adjusting the last trailer jack said, "Just come back when it gets dark."

Bill ran to the lot with his new friends, he had the distinct feeling that things were going to get much better.
The sound of a wasp pulled the boy in the yard back to the present. He ducked his head. When he looked up, he noted that several more grasshoppers had been pinned to the dirt.

He squinted, trying to remember when he had done this to the bugs. He watched as if witnessing a dream.
Two rows of grasshoppers were formed on the sun-baked dirt, each being skewered like the first. The first one was the largest, a plump guy that even now was grasping the shaft of the needle as if trying to extract it. It's legs were sliding uselessly along the needle which was wet with its own blood.

The boy didn't register this; his mind was already back at the trailer park. A white car had pulled up to the trailer soon followed by a police car. Bill ran home to see what was happening. He first noticed the look of worry on his mother's face. A man and woman wearing formal looking work clothes were talking with his parents. The officer stayed in the car where he seemed to be catching up on some paper work with a bored expression on his face.

"What's going on?" Bill asked his father.

"Go on and play son." His father replied. The serious tone in his voice sent Bill scurrying back to the soccer game.

He didn't like at all what was going on back at the house. He tried to take his mind off of it, tried to will it away. These people were not friends. He knew this from the intent sounds of their conversation. His father was snapping angry words at the couple. Their responses were calm - almost patronizing.

Bill decided to stay focused on the soccer ball as it made its way from foot to foot. He watched the perfect geometries on the ball turn into a blur as he kicked it. He looked up from the game when he heard his mother sobbing.

She was covering her face with her hands. Bill's father held her in his arms trying to comfort her. Bill could remember this moment clearly in his mind, at least the image of his mother. He had never seen her sob this way so freely.

It was strange how he could remember so much about that soccer ball but not what his father looked like that evening. His father seemed almost like a shadow, a wisp of a memory. He couldn't remember anything about him from this moment. It seemed strange to Bill how everything was so vividly burned into his brain like a snapshot in time yet the place his father stood was an empty spot. "What was that thing holding his mother, if not his father?", he thought.

The rest of the world from this moment on became surreal.

Back in the yard with the grasshoppers, he no longer wanted to think about it. His lips were tight, pulled back in a scowl, probably the first expression his face made in months. His fingers were ripping at the insects, pieces of wings, legs and antennae littered the ground. He had left the big one alone for now. Its movements were less desperate, its mandibles were all that was moving as if chewing on something. It seemed to look up at the boy as if for the first time seeing his tormentor. The boy wondered how clearly it could see him.

He tried to think of an earlier time when he could see his father more vividly. There were so many of them. He had been with him his whole life. He remembered the time when his dad was working on his motorcycle outside on the porch. He had fiery red hair and a round sweaty face that was smiling. He was a large man and Bill knew he was safe just being close to him. Bill remembered the taste of salt when he kissed his father's cheek goodnight every night and that his face felt like sandpaper in the evenings. He thought he could remember every question he asked his father and his father's patient replies. Bill could not conceive of a god but his father was all he needed. In his mind, his parents were gods.

Sometime in the last year, things changed. He remembered the arguments between his parents. His mother spent most the time sleeping while his father was at work. The house became littered with old laundry and dirty dishes. There was a new baby crying a lot and Bill liked to spend his time outside with his friends, even when his dad came home from work.

One night when watching television, he could hear muffled giggling on the bed in the living room. His dad and sister were under the blankets playing something secretive. Something about this made Bill very uneasy. He looked away to the shadows in the corner of the room. They seemed to be spreading into the rest of the house. He ran into his bedroom and turned on the light to read a good Hardy Boys mystery.
From that time on he couldn't remember anything about his father. His father became a shadow in his memory. So that when he looked back from the back seat of the white car that evening at his father and mother, he saw her look of grief as she clutched his baby brother, but he never saw his father who stood at her side.

He sat in that car with his other brother who was seven years old. His brother had tears in his eyes and was holding a blanket. They had both been told by the strangers that they didn't have a choice but to go with them. Bill tried to comfort his brother.

"We'll be back soon" he said. "It's probably only for a few days." His brother didn't respond, but just sat there quietly.

The car trip seemed to last an eternity. It was night and the two boys were being taken to a strange part of town. The homes were nicer here. The lights were warm and friendly. When they arrived at a house, his brother was asleep against the side door. He had a peaceful look on his face. Bill began to wake him, but the lady in the car stopped him and said he was to go elsewhere. Dutifully, Bill left the car and his brother and walked into his new home.

Here there were no goodnight kisses and questions were not tolerated. Bedtime was at eight and he could leave his room only at ten in the morning. His foster mother preferred that he was outside most the rest of the time. The backyard was as far from the prison he was allowed to stray. He had been told that he was not allowed to make friends, so the front yard was out of the question.
So there Bill was in the backyard where he had been all summer. He had just cut the head off the large grasshopper.

Bill observed the insect carnage. The needles poking out of the ground were now casting shadows. It was getting late and the sun was setting. A look of surprise crossed his face when he realized how much time had passed. He saw the grasshopper bodies as if for the first time and a look of horror crossed his face. He looked down at his sticky fingers. An antennae was still stuck to one of them twitching as if still alive. He frantically wiped his fingers on his pants. Then he covered his face with his hands and began to cry.

He had always loved insects. He was fascinated by them. In the past when he had held caterpillars and beetles, he did so with the utmost of care. They were creatures to be admired and respected. He didn't understand why he had now done this act of terror and brutality. So Bill sobbed and sobbed. It had been the first time he cried or showed any emotion since he was taken from his family.

His eyes were puffy and red from the crying and he realized he was crying for his own loss. He had been trying to take everything like a soldier, hold it all together. He realized for the first time, he would never see his family again together. He would never see his father lovingly embrace his mother as he had often done. He knew his mother was changed forever and his father was someone different. And so in that backyard among the insect carnage Bill grieved no longer for the crimes he committed against the grasshoppers. He grieved for himself and his lost family.

He saw that there are unknown forces in the world that will lay waste to the most precious things - forces that know not what they do for they are the acts of ignorance made manifest through minds of slumbering gods.

His eyes had been closed for some time now as he knelt by the dead grasshoppers. An evening breeze brushed passed his face cooling his warm wet cheeks and eyes. He opened his eyes and looked up at the first stars appearing in the night sky. The stars, like jewels thrown across a vast black tapestry, were twinkling with a growing brilliance as the darkness consumed everything else. He drew comfort from their silent defiance, their obliviousness to the immense darkness around them. He imagined himself as a star with some ancient furnace within forever casting light outward into an otherwise meaningless universe.

This thought rejuvenated him. If someone asked him at that moment what he was feeling, he could not have put it into words. He just knew that the fear and intense loneliness were gone and in its place a sense of complete peace. He imagined that the stars were in some way his new parents.

He pulled some soil from a nearby garden over the insects and patted the new grave sight down. He stood up, feeling the stiffness in his knees, took one last look up at the stars and walked into the house and into his new life.

First lame post

2007-04-29T20:12:00.000-07:00

Created This blog to put my thoughts on philosophy and Gnosticism and whatever else I feel like