Head Removals (gently) 1972
24 July 2012 – “Head Removals Gently” was a thriving business in west London, during our hippie 1970s. Here is a head, stoned out of his mind, getting carried away from his Notting Hill pad – lost in his situation, and out to lunch.
But … remove the obstruction gently … from where I am – by seeing that there isn’t one?
Atlas (see previous post) holds up the globe, but is also a book of flat maps of the wide world. In the myth, Atlas held up the sky. The sky is Atlas’s head … or no-head. By the simple expedient of removing where he thinks his head is, Atlas is the Tree of the World!
Time is the rotating map of the world; time is a ball of persons waking up anywhere; time is in relationship NOW with many different phases, different lands.
There was once a time when at night the whole universe was dark and went to sleep.
Now, the lights are on all night. For the global insomniac internet, the sun never sets. It is always up in the sky for a friend as the tide of night travels … round and round … like a skipping rope. The jumper in the rope is inside a kaleidoscope or cinematic lantern show. I make and believe in my life-pictures, and get upset by them.
My Atlas emblem has the globe, with Atlas in full stress and preoccupation, and the full Moon with her own circle of time: but also, sky and clouds are seen from above – the serene and relative timelessness of the Master plane. In the sky near Atlas are little rose vortices, they are samskaras, thought-forms, life-spouts.
Atlas’s problem is: putting the world on his head. If he put on the world instead of his head, there would be no problem. If I keep remembering to do this, it slowly clarifies, and begins to liberate me, to relax in any situation.
In the lane, at Nacton.
The world is a Passing Place.
What is my concern? my stress? Touching base, there isn’t one. Foundationally, the world just turns upon her infinitely capacious axis, and my body has no rigidity.
Segments: interior Orange: beachball: longitudinal vanes.
Daffodils in Douglas Harding (From “The Dreamer in the Dream” by J.Adams)
Douglas Harding said we can bottom out our stress: let it consume us fully, then fly away! Stress is the pain-body of a person or of a country, family or culture. The pain-body – as Ekhart Tolle says – builds up through a history of civil war and private abuse. It cannot be ignored, but it can be seen, and allow it to pass through, and refrain from reacting. Refrain from reaction, is Sadhana, and is what Jesus meant when he said Love your enemy and offer the other cheek. It is ju jitsu: space for the problem to throw itself through and disappear. Refraining from emotional identification with the pain body, is Sadhana, and it doesn’t chill out overnight!
The principle is well upstream of any “fix-it” notions or pressures. Refrain from emotional identification and reaction with the pain-body. Keep practicing.
Sky muscle earth
The muscle twixt earth and heaven, is Atlas! This sketch has a bar of music playing through it. A pianist, or a real athlete, is loose and supple, let-go. A trained muscle is not a stiff one. Don’t bother about any thoughts at all, which are not relevant to Here and now.
The more I can pack my problems into a “shorthand” category, like “the pain-body”, the better am I able to view them from upstream. When I am personal, things are a mess; yet the personality is crucial! Egotism is incessant autobiography. But the vessel is like a salmon, moving upstream.
Tackle it with zest, not distress.
Zest, humour and turn the thing on its head. Imagination.
Realise I need exert no further than to STAND. My simple understanding: stand under. Exertion beyond this, is excess and trivial. Imagined conversations are excess and trivial – brick wall verbage I can’t get over or through.
There is only the plough of my underSTANDING, right now. Field, furrow and seagulls.
Do not attempt to theorise or justify. Head off the stress, by letting it pass through the chamber of love… without nagging or snagging it. The stress is just Life on my plate.
But who and what is Y? (from To Be and Not to Be by Douglas Harding)
I was wondering if my voice in my ears might change, when it goes deeper and waits.
Ideas do not form as word or voice, but as waves, silently. Words might form a poet’s pattern a-tumble in the surf. That statement sounded and felt a little different. It has an infinite leisure.
Then remember Ramana’s feedback to Ganapati: be in the root of the breath. Where breath rises, this is tapas. Where word rises, this is tapas. Vichara … the mantric root. Mantra is the ripple of sound, of water, of evolutions.
Ramana also said, no yogic effort is needed other than to ride the natural breath quietly, like a horse.
Douglas at Nacton
25 July 2012 SILENCE AND THE DRUM
Find silence. No intervention or comment, otherwise, has any account. The relief coming in from time to time, spreads like sunshine. You know why. I am going into new ground. Let it be.
In Robert and Ramana’s silence, the world turns as it should. Trust it, don’t shackle or try to pull it! Let go my nagging conscience, the talker who doesn’t get heard.
The silence is the root of all mantras, samskaras and life; detected bit by bit as the drum.
The silence becomes a mite stronger as I fall into it on the bus, and let the wheels turn. I can’t stop the wheel from turning. It turns out as it should. Only the cloggy bits that lean on it, imagine otherwise.
Robert: “You are not what you appear to be”
Trust in Life means – at a profound level – giving up “magic”. This cannot occur until a student is quite mature. An essential stage of Sadhana is the tension of the magic, the waveband of spells and ways of conduct. Till then, the spells are fine. But they use energy. I am a worrier. Slowly their glamour fades, and I am left with Life without method or end.
There is, as Robert says, silence in which all teems and turns; and speech in the face of that vast wonder, is impossible. As I settle, there are many tiny tensions up and down arms, shoulders and spine: let them keep sliding – like water off ducks’ feathers – to flow away. Down. Down to gravity and the unobstructed heart of the Universe. Silence. The mind cannot put up any signboards.
Rain. The sky’s river, chuckling, dancing.
All is well.
“I am a hidden treasure, and I love to be known.”
Shadows at Nacton
My adventure invites fellow travellers. I am a poet, an artist and a seer. I welcome conversation among the PHILO SOFIA, the lovers of wisdom.
This blog is a vehicle to promote my published work – The Sacred India Tarot (with Rohit Arya, Yogi Impressions Books) and The Dreamer in the Dream – a collection of short stories (0 Books) – along with many other creations in house.
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