I've definitely been feeling oddly as of late, but odd in a good way. Actually, I've discovered the solution to all my spiritual problems, now that I am channeling Ogugmug Alpha-Nine, a Crab Nebulan Space Centurion who was stationed on Mu. Together we plan to build a geodesic retreat in the Washington woods where I will reveal angelic teachings of theta-wave psychic sphincter control and prophecize that when the Big One comes to the Pacific coast, unexpectedly the rest of the country will sink into the ocean.
Yeah, right. As if. But hey, I do envy those who can make it as New Age wingnuts, whose material lives are stripped of spiritual meaning can turn in comfort to the coming of strange wise beings from beyond the beyondness, and a future of peace, love, and psychic levitation. Nice to be able to really believe in a properly convoluted mythos for a utterly confusing time. But no such luck. Any higher alien intelligence worth his intergalatic salt would avoid this crazy planet, whose lifeforms are too underripe or overly fermented. And poor angels, once the brilliant and terrible beings of heavenly fire and light, now being represented as Hallmark agents sent to teach people who need heavenly help to wipe their own asses.
But..... I digress.
Few days ago, I noticed that I was standing alittle straighter, and I was interacting with people easier; I was even keeping eye contact. After chasing my own metaphysical tail, so to speak, I've found that in the quiet, I've gained a new subtle lucidity. The hard part is not taking it and spinning an intellectual fable to overblow the importance and basically drive it into the ground. The other night, the house Libertarian, was watching me make my lunch for the next day, and commented that I was funny. I asked why and his response was weirdly enlightening, that he'd never met anyone who talked to himself as much as I do. I gave him the usual excuse about how long I'd lived alone, and how much I like to keep myself entertained, but later on, I realized even I didn't believe that. On reflection, I've noticed since the crisis boiled down, I have been talking to myself even more than usual, but not in the same way, the old way being more a mix of pure nonsense and bitter self-argumentation. What I was saying was what I was thinking. Hard to convey the impact of that. So I hushed myself, and that voice that was me was loud and clear, and it didn't use the pronoun, "you" but "I." This is a really big deal, and I wish I could explain why, but I can't. Maybe it doesn't need to mean anything but to me. Something has changed. I guess it's my overdeveloped sense of personal drama that makes me expect that the ground should quake and thunder should roll from the heavens when understanding comes into my awareness, but that is religious leftovers too. Now looking back on pivotal experiences I've had in my spiritual development, most of it has been inadvertently started, and simply manifest, and only afterwards did I feel this powerful need to clothe it in mystic and intellectual verbosity.
Even right now, as I write this, I know I am failing to follow my own heresies, because how I am writing this still feels like I am trying to lecture the invisible college, and thereby externally convince myself that my ideas are right, and endow myself with faith in them. This is so much dogma, really. Not that far from the reason that evangelicals need to proselytize, to create laws , and interject "loving" hate. Much of the time, you'll find that they are covering for the doubt that they may have, but don't want to believe they have. Reality as a one-way street.
The hardest part is the feeling that has driven me to explore Buddhism lately, that so much of this is the growing entropy caused by my reliance on intellect alone. Like building a turkey from matzoh meal, it only looks like the real thing, and only part of the time. I'm considering a call to a local Buddhist temple or center, not because I want to become a Buddhist, but because I would like to ask someone who is really there, about the duality of being, and its inherent failure.
I'm still probably better off with the geodesic retreat and the biblical mantra..
The saga continues...
Yeah, right. As if. But hey, I do envy those who can make it as New Age wingnuts, whose material lives are stripped of spiritual meaning can turn in comfort to the coming of strange wise beings from beyond the beyondness, and a future of peace, love, and psychic levitation. Nice to be able to really believe in a properly convoluted mythos for a utterly confusing time. But no such luck. Any higher alien intelligence worth his intergalatic salt would avoid this crazy planet, whose lifeforms are too underripe or overly fermented. And poor angels, once the brilliant and terrible beings of heavenly fire and light, now being represented as Hallmark agents sent to teach people who need heavenly help to wipe their own asses.
But..... I digress.
Few days ago, I noticed that I was standing alittle straighter, and I was interacting with people easier; I was even keeping eye contact. After chasing my own metaphysical tail, so to speak, I've found that in the quiet, I've gained a new subtle lucidity. The hard part is not taking it and spinning an intellectual fable to overblow the importance and basically drive it into the ground. The other night, the house Libertarian, was watching me make my lunch for the next day, and commented that I was funny. I asked why and his response was weirdly enlightening, that he'd never met anyone who talked to himself as much as I do. I gave him the usual excuse about how long I'd lived alone, and how much I like to keep myself entertained, but later on, I realized even I didn't believe that. On reflection, I've noticed since the crisis boiled down, I have been talking to myself even more than usual, but not in the same way, the old way being more a mix of pure nonsense and bitter self-argumentation. What I was saying was what I was thinking. Hard to convey the impact of that. So I hushed myself, and that voice that was me was loud and clear, and it didn't use the pronoun, "you" but "I." This is a really big deal, and I wish I could explain why, but I can't. Maybe it doesn't need to mean anything but to me. Something has changed. I guess it's my overdeveloped sense of personal drama that makes me expect that the ground should quake and thunder should roll from the heavens when understanding comes into my awareness, but that is religious leftovers too. Now looking back on pivotal experiences I've had in my spiritual development, most of it has been inadvertently started, and simply manifest, and only afterwards did I feel this powerful need to clothe it in mystic and intellectual verbosity.
Even right now, as I write this, I know I am failing to follow my own heresies, because how I am writing this still feels like I am trying to lecture the invisible college, and thereby externally convince myself that my ideas are right, and endow myself with faith in them. This is so much dogma, really. Not that far from the reason that evangelicals need to proselytize, to create laws , and interject "loving" hate. Much of the time, you'll find that they are covering for the doubt that they may have, but don't want to believe they have. Reality as a one-way street.
The hardest part is the feeling that has driven me to explore Buddhism lately, that so much of this is the growing entropy caused by my reliance on intellect alone. Like building a turkey from matzoh meal, it only looks like the real thing, and only part of the time. I'm considering a call to a local Buddhist temple or center, not because I want to become a Buddhist, but because I would like to ask someone who is really there, about the duality of being, and its inherent failure.
I'm still probably better off with the geodesic retreat and the biblical mantra..
The saga continues...
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