The Yoga Sutras of Patanjali – Book 4 – Illumination

23. Then the mind stuff, reflecting both the knower and the knowable, becomes omniscient.

This sutra is in the nature of a summation and emphasizes the fact that the mind, being stilled and quiescent through the practise of concentration and meditation, becomes the reflector of “that which is above and of that which lies below.” It is the transmitter of the knowledge of the self to the physical brain of the man in incarnation, and the transmitter also of all that which the self knows and perceives. The field of knowledge is seen and known. The knower is also perceived, and the “perception of all objects” becomes possible. It becomes literally true, therefore, that for the yogin nothing remains hidden or unknown. Information on all subjects becomes possible to him, for he has an instrument which he can use to ascertain that which the soul knows concerning the Kingdom of God, the realm of spiritual truth. He can also enter into communication and convey to the soul that which is known to the man in physical incarnation. Thus the knower, the field of knowledge and knowledge itself are brought into conjunction and the medium of this union is the mind.

This is one great stage upon the path of return, and though in due time the intuition will supersede the mind, and direct spiritual perception take the place of mental perception, yet this stage is an advanced and important one, and opens the door to direct illumination. Nothing need now hinder the downflow of spiritual force and wisdom into the brain, for the entire lower threefold man has been purified and dominated, and the physical, emotional and mental bodies form simply a channel for the divine light, and constitute the vehicle through which the life and love of God may manifest.

24. The mind stuff also, reflecting as it does an infinity of mind impressions, becomes the instrument of the Self and acts as a unifying agent.

Nothing remains for the spiritual man to do in connection with this purified lower self but to learn to use his instrument, the mind, and through it the other two bodies are directed, controlled and utilized. Through the eight means of yoga his instrument has been discovered, developed and mastered and must now be brought into active use, and employed in three ways.

  • As a vehicle for the life of the soul.
  • In the service of the Hierarchy.
  • In cooperation with the plan of evolution.

In Book I. Sutra 41, we find these words: “To him whose Vrittis (modifications of the substance of the mind) are entirely controlled there eventuates a state of identity with, and similarity to, that which is realized. The knower, knowledge and the field of knowledge become one, just as the crystal takes to itself the colors of that which is reflected in it.” This gives us a picture of what happens to the man who has mastered his instrument. He registers in his brain, via the mind, that which is true and real; he becomes aware of the nature of the ideal and bends every power which he possesses to the work of bringing that ideal into objective manifestation; he sees the vision of the kingdom of God as it will be in the latter days, and all that he has and is he renders up in order that the vision may be seen by all; he knows the plan, for it is revealed to him in the “secret place upon the Mount of God,” and he cooperates with it intelligently upon the physical plane; he hears the Voice of the Silence and obeys its injunction, working steadily at the task of spiritual living in a world consecrated to things material.

All this is possible to the man who has stilled the versatile psychic nature and has mastered the kingly science of Raja Yoga.

In the hidden literature of the adepts the following stanzas sum up the state of the man who has achieved, who is master and not servant, conqueror and not slave:

    “The fivefold one hath entered into peace, yet walks our sphere. That which is dense and dark now shineth with a clear pure light, and radiance poureth from the seven sacred lotuses. He lighteneth the world, and irradiateth the nethermost place with fire divine.

    That which hath hitherto been restless, wild as the ocean, turgid as the stormy sea, lies quiet and still. Limpid the waters of the lower life and fit to offer to the thirsty ones who, groping, cry of thirst.

    That which hath slain and veiled the Real for many lengthy aeons is itself slain, and with its death the separated life is ended. The One is seen. The Voice is heard. The Real is known, the Vision glimpsed. The fire of God leaps upward into a flame.

    The darkest place receives the light. The dawn appears on earth. The dayspring from on high, sheds its bright beams in hell itself, and all is light and life.”

Then before the liberated yogi a choice is placed. He faces a spiritual problem and its nature has been conveyed to us in the following fragment of an old esoteric catechism:

  “What dost thou see, 0h! liberated one? Many who suffer, Master, who weep and cry for help.

    What will thou do, Oh! man of peace? Return from whence I came.

    Whence comest thou, Pilgrim divine? From the lowest depths of darkness, thence upwards into light.

   Where goest thou, 0h! Traveller upon the upward way? Back to the depths of darkness, away from the light of day.

    Wherefore this step, 0h! Son of God? To gather those who stumble in the darkness and light their steps upon the path.

    When is the term of service, 0h! Savior of men? I know not, save that whilst one suffers I stay behind and serve.”

25. The state of isolated unity (withdrawn into the true nature of the Self) is the reward of the man who can discriminate between the mind stuff and the Self, or spiritual man.

This state of isolated unity must be regarded as the result of the attainment of a particular state of mind, rather than as a separative reaction. All meditation work, all moments of reflection, all affirmative exercises, all hours of recollection of one’s true nature are means employed to detach the mind from the lower reactions and tendencies, and build in the habit of a constant realization of one’s true divine nature. When this realization is achieved, the need for such exercises ceases and one enters into one’s heritage. The isolation referred to is the detachment of the self from the field of knowledge, the involving of the refusal of the self to seek outward-going sensuous experience and its standing firm in the state of spiritual being.

The man becomes conscious of himself as the knower and is no longer primarily concerned with the field of knowledge, as in the early stages of his unfoldment; neither is he engaged with knowledge itself, as during the stage of mental development either as an advanced man or as a disciple. He can discriminate between all three, and identifies himself henceforth neither with the field of knowledge, life in the three worlds through the medium of his three vehicles, and the five senses plus the mind, nor with the knowledge gained nor the experience undergone. He knows the self; he identifies himself with the true knower, and thus sees things as they are, dissociating himself entirely from the world of sensuous perception.

He does this, however, whilst functioning as a human being on earth. He participates in earth experience; he involves himself in human activities; he walks among men, eating and sleeping, working and living. Yet all the time he “is in the world, yet not of the world,” and of him it can be said as it was said of the Christ,

    “Who, being in the form of God, thought it not robbery to be equal with God: But made himself of no reputation, and took upon him the form of a servant, and was made in the likeness of men: And being found in fashion as a man, he humbled himself, and became obedient unto death, even the death of the cross.” (Phil., II, 6, 7, 8.)

He is at-one with the soul of all, but isolated off, separated from all that concerns the form or material nature. The next three sutras should be read as one, giving as they do a picture of the gradual growth of the spiritual nature in the man who has arrived at the state of discriminating detachment, and through utter dispassion, knows the meaning of isolated unity.

26, 27, 28. The mind then tends towards discrimination and increasing illumination as to the true nature of the one Self. Through force of habit, however, the mind will reflect other mental impressions and perceive objects of sensuous perception. These reflections are of the nature of hindrances and the method of their overcoming is the same.

The right tendencies and rhythm having been set up, it becomes simply a question of steady perseverance, common sense and endurance. Unless the utmost vigilance is exerted, the old habits of mind will very easily reassert themselves, and even until the final initiation the aspirant must “watch and pray.”

The rules which govern victory, the practices which bring success are the same for the advanced expert warrior and initiate as they are for the humblest neophyte. In Book II the methods whereby the hindrances and obstacles could be overcome and negated are most carefully given and from the moment of stepping upon the probationary path until that high moment when the last great initiation has been experienced, and the liberated man stands forth in the full light of day, these methods and modes of disciplined living must be adhered to unswervingly. This involves patience, the capacity to go on after failure, to persevere when success seems far away. This was well known to the great initiate, Paul, and was the cause of his injunction to the disciples he sought to help. “Stand therefore… and having done all, stand.” James gives us the same thought where he says “Behold we count them happy that endure.”

It is the going on when the point of exhaustion has been reached, the taking of another step when the strength to do so seems gone, the holding steady when there seems nothing but defeat ahead, and the determination to endure whatever may be coming, when endurance has been taxed to the limit, which is the hallmark of disciples of every degree. To them goes out the clarion call of Paul:

    “Stand therefore, having your loins girt about with truth, and having on the breastplate of righteousness; And your feet shod with the preparation of the gospel of peace;

    Above all, taking the shield of faith, wherewith ye shall be able to quench all the fiery darts of the wicked. And take the helmet of salvation, and the word of the Spirit, which is the word of God.” (Eph., VI, 14, 15, 16, 17.)

The equally clear command of Krishna to Arjuna sounds out also:

    “Having regard to thy duty, deign not to shrink back. For nothing is better for a warrior than a righteous battle. And such a battle has come to thee of its own accord, a very door of heaven will be opened; happy the warriors… who find such a fight as this… Therefore, arise, determined to do battle. Making equal good and ill fortune, gain and loss, victory and defeat, gird thyself for the fight.” (Gita II, 31, 32, 37, 38.)

Using Death as An Adviser

Within the Toltec tradition there is a very powerful technique called using death as adviser. Sooner or later your death will tap you on the shoulder and say, “come on sunshine it is time to go!”

In general people vacillate, prevaricate, procrastinate, beat around the bush and generally avoid making decisions wherever and whenever they can.  People rarely take the difficult option because there will always be tomorrow, so they piss about, bullshit and generally take the path of least resistance. They live in an illusory world of quasi-permanence.

They have not attained impermanence.

The most unarguable thing is that as medical science currently stands each one of us will die and leave behind a slab of meat. Death is inevitable.

The best way to cut through all the BS is to ask yourself if my death was fairly imminent how would I behave in this circumstance? Listen to the advice that death proffers.

I mentioned in the previous post my own cancer. When I found out about it, I used the full extent of my organisational and leveraging ability to ensure that the operation took place as fast as possible. I even paid for private CT scans to jump the queue. Believe me although I am an old git, my organisational skills are still top notch.

I have been using death as an adviser for over 20 years. It tends to increase decisiveness and stops one from fannying about or piss arsing around. It can cause one to fully open your heart. There is no point in nit picking or arguing the toss if death is imminent.

Théun had me write a letter to myself as if I was my very best friend writing the letter to a dying man, me. That did the trick.

I have been in potentially fatal situations a number of times; the crocodile incident in Zambia, a near drowning in Australia, the night I was close to suicide, the gang event in Brixton, various solo hiking situations and when I bust my hip 2 years ago. In situations of crisis, I am nearly always “cool hand Luke” so to speak.

This is because I have used death as an adviser. I know I am already dead.

In heightened awareness you can sense the proximity of your own death, sense his breath on your hackles.

His advice is nearly always, “act impeccably!”

That is pretty much it, he is a bit of a succinct introvert methinks.

I have heard it said that the only thing a warrior ever truly owns is his or her impeccability.

The next time you are facing some decision, or a “dilemma” simply ask yourself, “If I am going to die soon how would I in all honesty act?” You must be honest else there is no point in doing this. You cannot hedge things in the face of your own death.

I’ll wager that if you do this you will in time become more decisive and perhaps impeccable.

Unverifiable

I’ll kick this off with a question.

Does something have to be verifiable in order to be true, accurate and correct?

A quick update on the Coypu situation. Yesterday evening three men, two with shotguns came to our place. I explained to them that I had seen both juvenile coypu at around 4pm. They went to the far side of the pond and one of them discharged his weapon into the water. I had forgotten how loud they are. They waited around for a while but could not see the second one. They left with one dead coypu in the middle of the pond legs up. The plan was to put on the waders today and fish it out. After the hunters were gone, we went back to what I shall now call coypu corner. The other little blighter was there. He turned and watched us. We left him to it.

This morning there looked to be adult coypu turds as well as juvenile turds, but no sign of the coypu.

This afternoon I fished the dead coypu out with a landing net, and he is up by the grass cuttings awaiting recycling. The mole which I put there yesterday has already been “recycled”.

I was able to verify that the coypu was dead and not simply playing dead.

Yesterday I put up some quotations by Theun Mares whom I met on a number of occasions in 2000-2002. I even stayed overnight in his house once. There is no real way to verify what he says in those quotations. It is clear that there is a fair intellect behind them. He writes that he was a three-pronged nagal being and a stalker by predilection. I knew him as being a sometime hilarious piss-taker with a mischievous glint in his eye who could drink like a fish and smoke like a chimney. He was a warm being often up for a laugh and remarkably good company, a natural raconteur.

This is unverifiable.

He suggested to me that by way of predilection that I was a Man of Action and a dreamer. As a consequence, a whole bunch of people started to treat me as if I conformed to the template of this. If you are a reader of Castaneda, then I am like Genaro. Castaneda was a three-pronger and Juan a four-pronger. At first Juan was unable to see that Castaneda was of a different configuration to him, so he set about trying to build him a unit of warriors.

As I may have mentioned I have read “the blue books” and nowhere does it mention nagal beings. Blavatsky mentions Nagas a lot as does esoteric Buddhism. There is talk about the world of the Nagas and of the nagal or nagual’s world. I have a nagging thought that they are speaking of similar things.

There is a mild inconsistency with the description of the luminous cocoon once severed then reincarnating again, ready to work. The causal vehicle, if I have understood it correctly is not the luminous cocoon. So, the causal vehicle must somehow remember the severance and then select a physical-etheric-astral-mental vehicle capable of re-enacting the severance lifetime after lifetime.

Based on a number of pointers, signs and dreams it is not beyond the realms of possibility that I am also a nagal being. But if so, I am of the elephant dreaming class and of a philosophical persuasion. The dreamer bit is fine and accurate. Based on the description I would be of the more volatile three-pronged variety if so. As a dreamer in the South, I would be really quite out there. I am a different kettle of fish.

I have had a thorough exposure, over twenty years, to chemical physics, lasers and shit like that.  I have been trained to work in teams according to the six Ps. Preparation and Planning Prevents Piss Poor Performance. On my father’s side the family is military; one Lieutenant acting Captain REME, one full Colonel Head of Signals London Station and one Chief Petty Officer signals Fleet Command {Admiral’s staff}. I could easily look like a Man of Action and my seventh ray personality is entrepreneurial.

The truth is this speculation cannot be verified, by any means acceptable to the scientific community.

In many ways it does not really matter what I am or may be. It is all just a model in anycase.

I come back to the original question.

In your opinion does something have to be verifiable in order to be true, accurate and correct?

The Stalker’s Rule and The Four Postulates of Stalking

The Worrier’s Path

The talker’s rule…


1) A Worrier does not believe in battles, therefore he approaches life with all the accuracy and care of someone who has drunk ten pints of “wife beater” and taken half a gram of amphetamine sulphate. A Worrier knows that knee jerk reactions are best and that repetition of folly is his favourite pastime.

2) By striving for complexity a Worrier fills his diary and day to day life with things of the utmost boredom and futility so as to avoid taking any action. A Worrier is able to construct a twenty seven dimension third order hyperpolarisability tensor for any situation so as to justify the fact that he is overwhelmed by complexity. By projecting catastrophe after catastrophe onto the world, the Worrier justifies his fear and inertia.

3) A Worrier knows that it is better to run than to stand, being sure that he can always put things off until Monday next week, when he can, if there is time, review how to put them off until the following month. A Worrier is sure that there is no such thing as the eternal now and his favourite mantra are “if only” and “what if?”

4) A Worrier never enters into battle because he knows that the control of his self image, view of the world and personal history are what keeps him sane. As such a Worrier is always obsessed with controlling his life so that he can, after all, have life on his own terms.

5) Whenever faced with even the slightest of difficulty the Worrier capitulates to the sound judgment of his infallible reason. He becomes obsessed with displacement activities and bends the true meaning of life to fit with all his preconceptions and prejudice.

6) A Worrier stretches time so that his life is filled with the exquisite beauty of hours spent in the dental waiting room looking forward with anticipation to that root canal work in the absence of anaesthetic. By making life as boring as possible he will extend his apparent longevity by decades. Hence his life will seem like an eternity.

7) A Worrier is convinced that he is only his self image and ensures that his personal history is sufficiently intact that he can be bound to it. A Worrier never reveals to himself the fact that he is a magical being of the universe.

Toltec Active Dreaming Practice

Because I am a dreamer by predilection I did something very akin to the following, at least once, everday without skipping, for a period of around 7-8 years.

In the day I taught physical chemistry and at night I did this…

These are excerpted from “Cry of the Eagle” by Theun Mares.

It is through this technique that I realized I am of the Elephant dreaming class, in other words having a second-ray Soul or causal vehicle.

I had a “tango” moment when I was reading the previous piece from the blue books which if I can find the words, I will verbalize.

Vis Viva – Chapter 2 No Man

“No man is an iland intire of it’ selfe:
Every man is a peece of the continent;”


John Donne, Meditation XVII from Devotions Upon Emergent Occasions.

So then what happened to this organism called Eric and why is he writing this, his own personal Chautauqua? His motives for this are not clear. Nor yet are his natures for there are many of these. All that he has told me is that there is in him a pressing need to express, to find a way to describe what was and is a most interesting path through life and onwards.

“It all started with Jason Bourne.” He tells me this is as good a point as any, from which to start. When Jason, after he realises the nature of what he has gotten himself into, refuses to submit to the programme he is forced, trained as an assassin and begins his missions. When asked to kill a man in front of his children something of the David Webb in him resurfaces, he botches the mission and is nearly killed as a result. He is then quite literally adrift on the sea of life not knowing who or what he is, with but a few clues to his past and a fog of amnesia surrounding him. He goes back to look at all the places and the people he once knew, trying to piece together what has happened.

Metaphor then is what it says on the tin, it is a transfer by linguistic connivance; a transfer from another reality or world into this one. It presupposes that this one is common. Of course it isn’t, yet it might be. In the use of metaphor Eric reckons that one can get a flavour or a taste of what he is trying to say and hint at the depths of the other worlds’ journey to Annwn in search of Awen, the inspiration of the vis viva. The breath which breathes life into all things, the breath that comes on the four winds and the moods they bear with them upon their shoulders, sometimes lightly and sometimes not. The Chautauqua then, is the search for a personal sense of Jesus, that sense of the divine potential incarnate in us all; where we are our own personal saviour, a sangraal quest for our inner being; the sense of at-one-ment with the world around us and perhaps the non mundane.

Eric came upon something quite by accident when he was a young man, caught up in all the hedonism of student life. It was a series of books starting for him with “The Journey to Ixtlan” written by Carlos Castaneda and so he heard of this thing called “the Warrior’s path”. He was rather taken by this series of books and read them all with a zeal, he was later to become famous for. When he talked about them with his flat mates it was rather clear that he had taken them seriously and they hadn’t. Something funny was going on and that year he was rather ill with many fevers. But he could not pretend he hadn’t heard, because he had. He did not know what he had heard but it was, something.

He got his degree and went on to study for a Ph.D. in chemical physics or “pissing about with lasers” as he liked to call it. The solitude of dark laboratories, expensive toys and the beauty of pure, coherent light, brought him much joy. After a while he twigged that he was pretty good at all this, he understood the theories and could make a laser sing. When he stood up to talk about his work, people listened, they even published his papers in scientific journals, what a hoot!

Later, when Eric went back to his school in Gloucestershire and walked around the sports fields, where he had snuck out during “lock up” to watch the fireworks of Guy Fawke’s night, made dangerous, secret, trips “out of bounds” for walnuts and ran and ran and ran. How many times had he done rounds as punishment? How great was that slip-slap-slip of his feet in rhythm with his breath. This was where it all began; one of his Jason Bourne moments, and it was at the hand of a well meaning man who in one sentence and in one act changed a life.

Eric had not settled in boarding school, his school work was messy and erratic reflecting his inner turmoil and his struggles to survive. Finally now at the age of 12 he sat his common entrance examination, though for him it was really another mock as he was due to be in the scholarship class next year. And there it was, on the English paper; write an essay inspired by any of the following. He chose:

“No man is an iland intire of it’ selfe:
Every man is a peece of the continent;”


John Donne, Meditation XVII from Devotions Upon Emergent Occasions.


There it was his first quay off, off from the day to day and into the palace of dreams, it was the febrile stuff of a doorway into his inner world, shimmering, veil like, in the wind of his existence. There is someone else, after all, who had something of him.

Eric for once let it all go; he expressed all his inner loneliness drifting in a coracle from that Cape Town harbour, abandoned under the stars of the Southern Cross and without hope, until there, on the horizon was the first light of day. The master marked his essay and wrote of the poetry in Eric’s soul on his report card and then he did it. He read it out in assembly.

No man would write like that would they? After all the bullying on his sexuality, that was it, proof and in front of the whole school. There it was, never, never, never let it go again. How very attractive the science classes were after that. How easily he gained marks and passed the exams.

Eric says that it was a life that had two potentialities severed by a choice that was not really his, circumstance made it and his parents were now happy. His Nan though, was so proud of that comment, a poet in the family! When Eric saw the report card quite recently he could still smell the ink, a dark vivid blue, Parker’s Quink, written with a sloping italic nib. He experienced the same fear as he had done thirty years before. Eric had been here, here with the musty thin report book, charting his progress. He had held that book many, many times. Now though he could read between the lines, written by the teachers, having written many such things himself.

This was a node in his life, one of many. That world so precious and private to him had been taken out and with the best intentions, thrashed in public. Eric began to blend and here the chameleon was truly born. The twin Gods of should and ought began to take their hold on his psyche and he became the best sportsman he could be and the best scientist. He still did languages but kept them tight on a rein. He needed the marks for his exams.

Still and even on days like today when the rain caresses the ground he can remember the other country where people can be who they are; and all those water bottle windows gazed through; day dreaming in the foothills of that other country; the one that seems so far yet so close. And, again the window ledge is just wide enough to sit on, waiting for his parents who never came to rescue him. They weren’t of that other country so how could they possibly know what it was like. Nor was anyone it would appear.


I vow to thee, my country, all earthly things above,
Entire and whole and perfect, the service of my love:
The love that asks no question, the love that stands the test,
That lays upon the altar the dearest and the best;
The love that never falters, the love that pays the price,
The love that makes undaunted the final sacrifice.

And there’s another country, I’ve heard of long ago,
Most dear to them that love her, most great to them that know;
We may not count her armies, we may not see her King;
Her fortress is a faithful heart, her pride is suffering;
And soul by soul and silently her shining bounds increase,
And her ways are ways of gentleness and all her paths are peace.


I Vow to Thee My Country, Sir Cecil A. Spring-Rice, 1918.


And that search for the other country was to continue for many years to come, always resident and poignant in his heart. Ready and fresh in his dreams yet as secret and as encrypted as it was possible to be. Buried deep within the layers of ice, the ice of a thousand tears cried in a silence of a song unsung and unspoken. No one knew what he thought and that gave him a sense of power. There, no one could harm him. There he was safe and he didn’t have to trust anyone.

When they let him read the lessons and the prayers he was very happy. Deep within him then the sense of the sacred was sanctuary and he did not mind that the others had their parents with them and that his were five thousand miles away. He and all the other expat boys got to ring the bells too!


Seigneur, faites de moi un instrument de Votre paix.
Là où il y a de la haine, que je mette l’amour.
Là où il y a l’offense, que je mette le pardon.
Là où il y a la discorde, que je mette l’union.
Là où il y a l’erreur, que je mette la vérité.
Là où il y a le doute, que je mette la foi.
Là où il y a le désespoir, que je mette l’espérance.
Là où il y a les ténèbres, que je mette Votre lumière.
Là où il y a la tristesse, que je mette la joie.

Ô Maître, que je ne cherche pas tant à être consolé qu’à consoler, à être compris qu’à comprendre, à être aimé qu’à aimer, car c’est en donnant qu’on reçoit, c’est en s’oubliant qu’on trouve, c’est en pardonnant qu’on est pardonné, c’est en mourant qu’on ressuscite à l’éternelle vie.

Par Saint François d’Assise


Later in life it was another rose that sneaked into his life and turned partially in the mortice to release the first seeds of an efflorescence that was to take him deep into Annwn and Awen; there again to offer him the proof that he was different and yet ultimately, the same.

Eric tells me that until you have been touched by the fingers of death there is no real concept of life. That you cannot begin to conceive life itself and that living is more of a going through the motions of existence. There is no fecundity in living and the organism which is the vehicle remains only partially awake, until the organising indwelling thing catches the breath of the vis viva and is inspired. Before this can happen the form side of life needs tended. The weeds and brambles that adorn the island of existence are pruned and hacked back; all that is unwanted is bagged up and taken to the re-cycling centre. Only then can the form side of life settle in the sea of floating things and allow creativity to stream forth un-abated. And it is the fingers of death that encourage the danse macabre of transformation, for it is only in the theatre of death that man can see his true script for this, his sojourn on the stage, where he is player for us all.

Eric says that he is lucky in that death has touched him three times now, and that the archetype of le mort should be welcome as it brings with it true change, for only then can man touch the very outer limits of his potential and truly, dance the edge. It is the universe’s way of showing the glory of incarnation and if we chose to see it, the pettiness of our doings and the darkness, which is so very often of our own making.

That island is crammed full with stuff, thoughts, should and ought. Filled with words that are not ours, choc-a-bloc with ideas put there by others, aspirations and ideals that have precious little to do with you; a veritable Shinjuku station at rush hour in time lapse photography where wave after wave of gripes and moans chant the koans of consumerism; the must have and the “if only” of the realms of the hungry ghosts.

“You know that people are rarely truly silent.” He says.

“True silence is what people fear the most. There and then, is the no-thing-ness of existence and it is primordial. It is before and will be after us and that is where the creative power of the void can be found, echoing out the very first sound into the darkness of manifestation; a single word which breaks the silence. It is this connectivity with the in-finite that man fears, insisting that it is only he and his island. He is lost in the sea of life, that he is one and has already separated from the zero.”

Eric likes to call the organising thing that animates the form the power within, as all the other words are now second hand. He distinguishes between the power within and the power without for clarity only. They are all part of the same awareness. He says that this distinction is a hangover from his sense of individuating identity and helps keep him sane, allowing him to tell all the stories that other people like so that they don’t panic or think him odd.

He says we all have a power within and it is the vis viva that animates this potential within us so that it incarnates. The one life chooses an aspect of awareness to materialise into form. This manifestation has an impact, it slows things down so that awareness becomes dream-like and foggy. It is just that so many people like the dream so much they aren’t willing to stop the world and wake up in the dream. The matrix of existence is so full of clamour and glamour that it straps people into a sense of reality that isn’t really there in the sea of the floating things. The folly of permanence and the arrow of time exclude the magic of being; after all we are all counter entropic beings are we not?

The incarnate matrix of existence has its stories and rules, by focusing intent upon their maintenance the world conspires to limit the potentialities to physical plane function whilst the organism and its thoughts keep the power within at bay with the brouhaha of social interaction and the relentless mind numbing noise of mass media and marketing. The voice of the power within remains unheard and talked over by the internal dialogue, often externalised, that convinces itself, at least partially, that the world of illusion is all that there is. This then is the sleight of hand that tells us we should be interested in what Manchester United are doing and whether of not Jennifer Anniston has found Mr Right; a sleight of hand that distracts us from perhaps our true purpose which is maybe, just maybe understanding the meaning behind why the vis viva animated the power within to incarnate so as to gain knowledge through physical plane existence and the challenges inherent in that.

Eric says that the irony is we dreamed this world into being yet most of us don’t even remember doing it and insist that this dream is real. Eric says that people have told him that he is a pretty powerful dreamer and he has no evidence to prove otherwise. He knows that for ten years of his life he did his very best to kill all of his dreams, he numbed them with chemicals and beer so that they would not speak to him at night. He says that coma is a good way to do this. The power within was wise to this and set him up with that visit to Negril, it had been silenced for too long and the sleeper must awaken. Eric didn’t realise it but he was in for a pretty rough ride after that.

60 in a Billion

The probability of getting 24 Fu four consecutive times in an I Ching consultation is something like 60 parts per billion, which is not very likely.

Last night I was having a conversation about high technology start-ups and venture capital with a friend over skype. This morning I did the I Ching. This afternoon we went to the seaside and this evening we decanted some apple and cranberry home brew wine for our “nut store”. We shall bottle the apricot and the apple during the week to come. I have started doing some chanting on and off, a return. I have been writing about returning to the source like Neo, in some sense.

As per usual the inscrutable I Ching provides much food for thought. 

The sense of Fu is pivot / fulcrum about which the trajectory of a life changes.

I get my cancer clearance arse-camera later this year, I may get my metallic pin removed from my hip. None of these things can be rushed.

The I Ching is being fairly insistent that things are starting to change…

How and in what way remains to be seen, it is a bit of a mystery….

Stopping The World

In the middle of 2006 I resigned my job as an academic at a world “top ten” university. I gave six months notice so that I could hand over my responsibilities in a well controlled and managed way. At the end of November my flat sale went through and I moved from Brixton to this rented accomodation in the country. I went from scheduled to the nearest five minutes to virtually nothing, nada, zip. I was unemployed and had only a few small pieces of consultancy work lined up.

You can see my mat where I sat come rain or shine to finish off my life recapitualtion.

I sat and I sat.

I had stopped the world,the hectic and crazy one which I once was a part of.