About a month ago, someone asked why me anyone would want to do this type of work: personal, self-development work (like The Bridge or The Grail), and pay over $1,000 to do it, when it would be so much more fun to go to Las Vegas for the weekend.
Here are my thoughts on the subject. I guess I feel there is something infinitely more valuable than a good lay, the thrill of winning at craps, or sleeping on 800 thread count sheets. Seems there are quite a few who would rather go to Vegas, or pursue security in work and money, or just roll over as if nothing is happening. This journey for me is a series of peaks and valleys, and sooner or later, all of our eyes will get scorched by the sun.
I wrote this, and then found some great Osho words to go along with it. May it open some part of you, or close the door even tighter.
Utterances
Ultimate truth is not far away, it is not distant. It is near you, close, closer than you are to yourself, but still you go on missing it, and you have been missing it for millions of lives. This continuous missing has become a habit. Unless this habit is broken, the closest remains the most distant; unless this habit is transcended. Osho
Heed the words of a free man. Do not heed the words of a man who only proclaims he is free.
A fish may proclaim his freedom, until he is elevated out of the bowl, and shown a more expansive view of his world. This is the illusion of freedom. Rarely revealed yet ever so common!
Likewise, a man’s life is spent watching a movie. It seems real enough. Everyone plays their part. Freedom abounds. Eventually, by the grace of God, the man leaves the theater and is exposed to the mid-day sun. Is that air you are breathing?
These words are spoken in the light of day, and they are the musings of a free man.
I have felt exuberant joy and debilitating pain.
I have breathed in heavenly love and endured crushing heartache.
Trust and betrayal, I know them well. They have been my friends, my teachers.
I am ancient as sand, having witnessed the ebb and flow of generations.
At long last, the grime has been wiped off the lenses, and light is shining in.
In truth, I have no choice. The die was cast a long time ago. It is cast for us all.
I choose to accept the reality of my existence and banish all superstition. I look at the social mores of society and marvel at the power of the tribe mentality. No longer will I play by anybody else’s rules. No longer will I pretend I don’t know the rules.
I will outshine all forms of control, all self-appointed authority, and all of Maya’s misdirection.
I am a sovereign being. This is my natural state. Now I remember! Now I remember.
Let freedom ring.
I claim my heart, my soul and spirit as my own. The masculine and the feminine live mysteriously and dynamically within me. Yin and Yang empower and nurture me. I co-exist and demand nothing in return. I appreciate and honor all beings.
Remember, untruth is not such a great hindrance as the belief in the truth. If you believe, you stop seeking; if you believe you have already taken it for granted. It cannot be so. You will have to pass through a mutation; really you will have to die and be born again. Unless the seed that you are dies, the new life cannot sprout out of it. Belief becomes a barrier; it gives you a false assurance that you have known – but that is all you have got. Osho
No longer will I have beliefs, for there is only one truth.
I live by a code which I know to be the Way, based not on stories and myth, but on experience, and divine guidance.
I trust only that which is true. All that is not true, while it has played a vital role in my life, taking me willingly down this road and that path, these lies no longer serve me. They are anathema.
I breathe fire upon non-truth. I am a fire maker, as are you. It is our birthright. It is our magic.
I have lived in delusion, and so, therefore, profoundly appreciate the rich and focused view of truth.
The truth has set me free. “Know thyself” is my mantra. The air I breathe is my reward.
Moment to moment you feel grateful to existence, a gratitude happens to you, and this gratitude I call prayer. It is not a prayer to some god. This gratitude is an inner attitude towards existence which has given you life, love, light; towards this existence which has blessed you in millions and millions of ways, and which goes on showering upon you more and more blessings – but a unity is needed within. Osho
I acknowledge the wisdom that comes from a life boldly lived. I do not own any wisdom, nor am I the creator of it. I have blindly stumbled forward, step by shaky step, to be a clear vessel, a hollow bone for wisdom and singular clarity to manifest.
I live in gratitude. I live knowing that each breath could be my last. Death lives on my shoulder, is my teacher, and guides me in all actions. If today were my last day, I would die in gratitude and serenity.
I acknowledge my ego, my social face, and know it is not the deepest version of me. Yet, it must be.
There is no true version of me, for there is no me. I, as I am arbitrarily called, I am a wisp of wind fleetingly filling this body. I look at you and see myself.
I can no longer see another.
I look at the ocean and sob.
The beauty. The power. The peace.
The knowing. The edge of mystery. The dive into the chasm. Release. Surrender.
I am the ocean, and waves of recognition lap upon my shores. I breathe deeply, and slowly.
My life is a miracle. I embrace simplicity and discipline.
I shall be a pure demonstration of a simple life.
The search is over. All I ever wanted was always right here, deep within. The want is gone.
I choose the sacred. It resonates in my bones. It satisfies.
These are the words of a free man. Hear them or not. The choice, as always, is yours.
The same happens to the sage. When a man becomes enlightened the man has disappeared from him with all the interpretations, judgments. He has become pure, as if he is no more. The mind has been dropped. He is conscious, fully conscious, but with no contents to project. He looks at the world as it is, without any interpretation. And for the first time he comes to know reality. Osho
If fasting is doing its work of liberating our focus from self-preoccupation, this will manifest itself in mercy and compassion toward those around us. We will be moved from within to give what we are receiving from God . . . Our lives will be marked by concrete caring responses for others. Fasting must deal with reality. It does not skirt issues. It is not an interior escape” Thomas Ryan
A month ago, I was feeling all middle aged. I noticed that my ring was feeling a bit tight around my finger. I noticed that some of my pants fit rather tightly around my hips. Hell, one pair of shorts that I wore in the Amazon Rainforest of Peru just last June no longer fit my expanded torso. Old and FAT. That didn’t feel so good. No doubt, all of this noticing sent a bit of a shock wave through my spirit. Alert! Alert! Alert! System Overload. Time to regroup. Bring out the Warrior!
And so, on a wing and a prayer, and just a dash of encouragement from one of my close friends, I embarked on the Arise And Shine 28 day cleanse. All I really heard about the cleanse was that it would be “deep” and I would rid my body of some toxic substances including, but not limited to, mucoid plaque. “Mucoid Plaque, What the hell is that!?” Apparently, as I would learn in great and fascinating detail, our bodies create mucus that lines certain internal organs such as the colon. Mucoid plaque, I was told, is real, and if I did the cleanse, I would expel a good bit of it. Game on.
Jumping headlong into the abyss, I got on line (www.ariseandshine.com), ordered the 28 day cleanse, and set my start date for the following Monday. Little did I know what kind of commitment would be required from the program which I had ordered. No matter, I said I would do it, and given that it was only 28 days, I would will myself through the process if need be. While waiting for the arrival of my brand spanking new cleanse package, I began to plan my days around my two meals, lunch and dinner, and the fruits and vegetables I would be eating exclusive of any other foods for the next 4 weeks. No coffee. No pasta (remarkable, really, how much I missed pasta above all else). No ginger beer. No beer. No ice cream. No chicken, steak, nor pork chops. No nothing, just fruits and vegetables. Punto.
Just four weeks ago today, I began the cleanse, and initiated a ritual that would produce a 30 pound weight loss, 220 to 190. 6:30 AM – Bentonite, Cayenne and Psyllium Husk Shake. 8:00 AM – Handful of Herbs designed to soften the skank toxic substances that lie deep within. Another Shake at 9:30 and 3:30. More Herbs at 11, 2, 5 and 8. For the first couple of weeks, I was able to eat a lunch and dinner. The third week, lunch only. And the fourth and final week, called the Master Phase, no food at all, only herbs and shakes and water. Yummy.
Besides our desire to breath, our desire to eat is the most powerful. It is an amazing and worthwhile process to deny the ego the simple and powerful desire to eat. Breakfast, no coffee. Lunch, no tri tip sandwiches. Dinner, no egg plant and chicken chow mein, no enchilada suiza, no new york steak cooked on my trusty George Forman lean mean fat grilling machine and topped with melting butter (ohh, that is so good!). No Food! I did cheat just a bit during the last food free week. I had one blue berry (approximate eating time, 4 minutes). I ate one slice of medjool date (approximate eating time, 5 minutes). I did eat one small slice of avocado (approximate eating time, 6 minutes). That’s it. That was the height of my cleansing folly.
Have you ever eaten something as if you have never eaten before? This was a lasting gift of the cleanse.
As I said, I lost about a pound a day. But during the last week, I lost pound after pound of mucoid plaque. Here is a link to a site that shows you what mucoid plaque looks like. I caution you, it is not pretty. Click Here for Mucoid Plaque Photos. Suffice it to say, it is some nasty stuff (not shit) that is kind of long and stringy, thick and toxic, and definitely well worth the effort to get it out of my body. I was told that I would want to go through my bowel movements with chop sticks to see what was happening. True to form, I was excruciatingly curious about the chemistry experiment that had become my body. For the entirety of the final week, every bowel movement produced more and more mucoid plaque. It was fascinating and repulsive all at the same time. And it was quite an education for my little one, Paulina, and she is now a bit more cognizant of the effect of foods on her body.
To signify the end of my cleanse, I scheduled a colon irrigation session for Friday of the last week. A young woman had been recommended to me by someone I trust, so I placed the call and set up the appointment. During my first conversation with the colonic irrigation specialist, she informed me that she had done the exact same cleanse some 4 times. Wow I thought, that is one woman who is committed to a clean colon! And she told me that during the last week of her cleanse, she was taking 8 herb capsules at a time. I had been taking 4 at the time. 8! So by the time I went for my colonic cleansing session, I was up to 8. (I am as competitive and committed to a clean colon as any one else…) By the time I began my colonic irrigation session, I was tired, energetically drained, not really hungry but also knowing that my body was feeling deprived of food, and grateful that with my support team, I was able to make it to the end. I was ready for this cleanse to end. But first, the colonic…
If you have never had one, I must say that getting a colonic is quite a unique experience. I can’t state that too strongly. It goes like this. First I am having a nice chat with a beautiful young woman about my intestines, and the next moment I am lying on my side, while having an open ended probe placed gently into my backside. Next thing I know, gallons of warm water are being shot into me, while I relax placidly to the soothing sounds of Sarah McLaughlin. At some point, the pressure feels rather intense, and the water flow is reversed, and the water, and the waste materials, are all sent packing merrily merrily down the stream.
I will admit, there is a child like fascination, as the water and waste are heading south while I am heading north, to take a good look and see just what we have unearthed. I sat and watched as old and ancient pieces of me where flushed away, time after time, deeper and deeper, until it seemed there was nothing left to cleanse. Of course, there must be more, but by the end of the colonic, I felt done, clean, light, and ready to move on after this 4 week ordeal. Mission accomplished, Job well done.
On a scale of 1 – 10, with 10 being well worth my time, this cleanse experience ranks an 11. During the cleanse, I realized how important the food I put into my body really is. I learned that meat and diary don’t really serve me. All of my hay fever symptoms have disappeared. I see other people sneezing, and I know that use to be me. I understand some of the fundamental rules about my temple. Remarkable, given the level of meat and diary and processed foods I have eaten, that so much damage could be undone in 4 short weeks.
I will do more cleanses in the future, for I found the process very lightening. I see big middle aged bellies walking around, and realize most of that is mucoid plaque plugging up the pipes. I have obtained a bit of knowledge about my internal body mechanics simply because I did the cleanse, and let my curiosity lead me to books and conversations which generated unforeseen wisdom. For example, I had heard once that it is best to eat a meal without any beverages. I never knew why. Know I understand that when we eat and put something in our stomach, our body produces enzymes to break down the food to a liquid. As we drink a soda, for example, it simply dilutes the enzymes, making it that much more difficult for our bodies to break down and digest the foods. Interesting isn’t it?
Most importantly, I learned from and see the value in depriving myself of something so primal and vital as food, just to cool the jets of my ego. Jesus and Ghandi both fasted. Must be something to it… Indeed there is. My ego needs a good work out every once in a while. Seems if I can keep it real distracted and real tired, it won’t get me into too much trouble. But it is a real sneaky bastard. Now, if I think I am “cleanse” cool, or I accomplished something unique, or that I am special, or that I know a lot about digestion and mucoid plaque and all that, then the sneaky bastard ego is back in control. So there you have it. I will shut up now and know that I live in a world where everything I have, especially the simple and delicate fruit and vegetable foods we have to eat, and everything I know and everything I learn, and everyone I meet, they are all a beautiful gift, and all I will do is play and be eternally grateful. Ya-man.
Just one week ago, I was sitting in a sacred circle of men on the final day of The Bridge Men’s Initiation Ritual in Baldwin Kansas. Unlike past Bridge Sundays in which I was tired and a bit groggy, this Sunday, I was well rested as I looked out the window of the barn and saw streaming sunshine. In most Bridge events, we spend all of Saturday night awake, all contributing to the powerful initiation ritual which does not complete until the sun comes up. However, as I will explain, this was not a typical Bridge event (as if there is such a thing). Mother Nature had big plans for us, none the least of which was called Hear Me Roar!
Let’s start at the beginning. The assistants team arrived on Wednesday afternoon. Upon driving into the venue, a large refurbished barn in the middle of the very small town of Baldwin Kansas, it was raining fairly heavily. When we visited the sweat lodge site, we had serious concern about getting a fire started, and using wet blankets and carpeting to set up the lodge. We also knew it would be difficult to conduct the all night initiation ritual in a heavy downpour. This day was yet another lesson in letting go. We had no control over the weather. So instead we focused on what we could do to make the event room and sweat lodge as prepared as possible.
I have a unquenchable thirst for nature. I first felt this once again when I was sitting outside the back of the barn, and caught sight of a very large owl flying over a pond and landing on a branch. I slowly walked over to the tree to see if I could get a better look at this big horn owl. There he was, sitting on a branch, and perfectly content to have me look at him while he looked at me, just some 20 feet away. It was glorious. His eyes were bright yellow. His head was rotating as if on a swivel. After 2-3 minutes my new friend the owl heard some sounds and decided it was time to hit the road. I saw him again on Saturday, and then again on Sunday. In the picture below, you can see how close he allowed me to get. Remarkable.
At 3:30 pm on Thursday, the rain stopped. The sun began to shine. We immediately set up the fire to heat up the stones for the evening sweat lodge. Men began to arrive an hour later as the final touches were being put on the sweat lodge. It was as if God had said, “Here is the break you were asking for!” We began the lodge at 8pm. It was a gentle Inipi ceremony, almost sweet, allowing all the men to gently immerse themselves in the event and in the initial process of physical, spiritual and emotional purification. I also learned a valuable lesson about being and remaining grounded during such powerful rituals. While handling the pitchfork holding a red hot rock destined for the pit in the center of the lodge, the pitch fork tilted and the rock hit my thumb before hitting the ground. I put the rock in the pit, but my thumb lost a nice chunk of skin, singed it right off. Respect.
Friday, Day 1
Friday is always a powerful day. It is a day of brutal truth telling. It is a day of surrender and release. It is a day of discovery. And at the end of the day, many men feel a tremendous blast of spiritual bliss during our final exercise. The Bridge is a mystery school, allowing the men to begin a study of themselves (of their self) in earnest. What is your mission in life? What are you afraid of? What must you do before you die? I also relearned the lesson that I am not alone nor am I special. In fact, I am not even that unique. We all have a past, some parts of which are hard to look act, let alone admit to and be witnessed. Yet by looking and speaking and being witnessed, these harmful and shameful bits lose their potency and simply become a bit more of my history, something which has served me to become who I am today. Shame be gone.
On Friday, I also learned once again that male rage is powerful, can be created at will, and need not be simply a reaction. Properly channeled, as we do on Day 1, the full expression of rage is beautiful, inspiring, and ultimately blissful. I shudder to think how many men, women and children are hurt and abused simply because, in our society, we don’t have conversations about rage nor channels for the proper expression of rage.
Saturday, Day 2
On Saturday, we spend most of the day preparing for the all night initiation ritual with various processes and exercises. However, as it once again rained, our sweat lodge completely collapsed under the weight of the water. Being dudes who like to build shit, we made it our project to create a new and better sweat lodge for the evening ritual. The guys attacked the project with gusto, and within 3 hours, we had a fabulous new sweat lodge all set and ready to go. We also spent a couple of hours in the meadow preparing for the evening work. The sun was shining, and meadow grass was drying, and everything seemed to be progressing perfectly for a wonderful all night ritual.
Our evening sweat lodge was hot. Really hot. Like no kidding, this is Hot! During the second of four rounds, half the guys left the lodge. It was a mass exodus of epic proportions. The third round sent out another bunch of guys. For me, the sweat lodge experience is a deep discipline in the fine art of surrender and breathing through fear. It is my experience that this is a lost art. On this night, in Kansas, we were just getting started.
I learned another powerful lesson once I left the sweat lodge. I crawled out, stumbled to an open space on some grass, and lied down, simply looking up at the darkening sky. I could not have been more content. During that one hour in the sweat lodge, I did battle with my self, and with the heat, and with my faltering ego. I lost on all counts. I battled hard, I lost, and I felt such a state of bliss lying there on the ground. No thoughts. No need to do anything. No need to be any certain way. It was one of those divine moments where men simply get to be together and be. Ahh, Masculine Bliss.
We returned to the barn and prepared for our walk over to the meadow. The half mile hike took us through mud, through a garden, through tall grass, and across a small rushing river. Since we did get some rain, we could no longer hop from rock to rock to get across the river, so we waded through the flowing water to get to the other side. It was great fun for us guys. In addition to enjoying building shit, we also like to get wet and muddy! We were excited. We were anxious. And we were walking toward our death, just about to leap off the edge into the unknown.
I had heard that there was some weather working its way around us. I had seen someone’s phone with images of heavy storms to the north and south of us, but there didn’t seem to be anything heading towards us. The sky above us was clear, though we could see some dark clouds way off into the distance. One eerie cloud was in the exact shape of an arrow head stone. In our elevated state, everything felt OK, and we proceeded with our many rituals to prepare the men, and ultimately get them all in their sacred ritual sites.
While we were finalizing the beginning of the ritual for each man, the skies started to roar, and lightning began to spark. For me, this was a moment unlike any other. The timing was uncanny. As we moved from man to man, Mother Nature kept speaking to us with increasing intensity. We saw lightning so bright I could not keep my eyes open. Thunder pelted our ears. Yet for the longest time, we did not feel a single drop of rain. It was not until we got to the last man that the rain began to fall. At same time, the caretaker of the property had hiked to the meadow to notify us that a tornado was heading right towards the meadow.
We finished with the last man, and then proceeded in haste to notify each man of the oncoming tornado, get him out of his ritual site, and meet back at the fire pit (which had now been quickly doused out) and prepare to hike back to the barn. The rain was now coming down in sheets. It was impossible to stay dry. The lightning was brighter, more frequent, and shocking. Thunder was belching at us right above our heads. We began the hike back. Within minutes, large hail balls the size of nickels began to fall on our heads. The energy of our group of men was unbelievably intense. I was feeling such exhilaration as the weather gods demonstrated their titanic power. When we got to the river, I almost jumped in head first just to feel everything I possible could in that moment. Carpe Diem! I wanted to be decimated, consumed, and divinely ravaged by the storm, by nature, and by the All Powerful.
We made it back. We walked with our items in one hand while our other hand protected our heads from the falling chunks of ice. Upon arriving, we decided to proceed with our celebration ritual (which involves eating bacon..Yahoo!), then nourish our bodies after a day of fasting, and then get a good night’s sleep. If a tornado was coming, we were going to to be ready. In the end, what can be said about this night? It was glorious. It was a seminal moment in time which no one will ever forget. The whole experience spoke to the commitment of the men to create breakthrough. What a life!
Sunday, Day 3
We started with our morning circle, sharing our experiences and lesson from the previous night. We ate some delectable hamburgers for lunch, and rested. We were all full up from the previous day’s activities. In the afternoon, we all shared our wisdom with each other. We celebrated each other, and the dedication we shared to achieve completion. The men prepared to leave, helped with clean up, and then left for their homes and their loved ones.
As I sat in my room on Sunday night, I was left wondering what impact this weekend would have on the men. I seem to be constantly living in these questions, “What make a real and substantial difference in another’s life?” “What lasting effect would the men feel?” “How would the women of these men be impacted, or the children?” It is our intention that The Bridge not be just another “ aha” moment, or a feel good adventure. We put an emphasis on men thinking about their lives in very definite terms, feeling what is true, and learning something substantial and concrete that will be valuable and useful one month or one year down the road. The men all have their journals. I believe they will all use them to continue to Know Thyself.
Great gratitude from this arrogant bastard, for the opportunity to spend such quality time with a group of remarkable men.
I recently attended an powerful Initiation Ritual in which I asked to be rid of was DOUBT. Naturally, as is so often the case, when I came home, I was drawn to a book I had recently ordered online. I turned to no page in particular and these words shot straight into my third eye like a red hot poker, for these words/images/thoughts capture my experience better than any musings I might share with you. What I would like to share are my interpretations of this passage.
“Youth of delight, come hither” I find I can assess a man’s development by how excited he gets about things and experiences. “Youth of Delight” captures the embryonic state of most, chasing the next pussy, the latest gadget, or the next event. “Come hither” boys, for I have something to share…
“And see the opening morn” This, for me, is Blake’s way of saying “Wake the Fuck Up!!!”. He is being very poetic about it. I tend to be more blunt.
“Image of truth new born.” Here, I believe, Blake is pointing his finger in the direction of “truth.” When one does get a sniff of truth, it truly is like a birth, and new day, a direction for one’s life which is at once both exhilarating and terrifying.
“Doubt is fled, & clouds of reason,” This one is for me a bit tougher to decipher. When one is cognizant of the clarity of truth, the absoluteness of it, then doubt is fled. The pathway is clear, and one begins the march, slashing and burning everything that gets in the way. Yet, clouds of reason do interfere. “Am I going insane?” “Am I the only one?” “Why doesn’t anyone else see what I see?” “The tribe was so warm and cozy.” The other interpretation here is that the clouds of reason are also fled. However, in my experience, “clouds of reason” is the battle ground. Only after tremendously challenging, painful and excruciating work, and complete ego decimation takes place, may one leave the battle ground. And in actuality, one doesn’t leave the battle ground, rather the battle ground just ceases to exist.
“Dark disputes and artful teasing.” Over the next few lines, Blake is, in my opinion, making a full front assault on Maya, the goddess of illusion. How can one realize the truth, without understanding his own dark side? Know thyself! Ah yes, and artful teasing. Just when you think you are on the path, you are once again off the path. Maya is a master, and her game is to make you think you are advancing, when in fact you have made a pit stop into illusion, vanity, or greed. This line, by including the word “artful,” also shows the respect for Maya that she deserves.
“Folly is an endless maze,” Or so it seems. How does one open the gateless gate? At some point, folly becomes a casualty of the process. When the hunger for the end of your suffering becomes greater than the pain of the suffering, one realizes the way out of the back door of the maze was in front of you the entire time.
“Tangled roots perplex her ways.” Here, Blake, again in my opinion, is now addressing ego, that pernicious little voice, that we just can’t seem to separate from our selves. This topic came up quite a bit during our days of rights. How is it that some little voice can make us all so miserable? “Hey you, you’re a piece of shit!” “Hey, are you listening to me, you aren’t making enough money.” “Hey you, you lazy ass couch potato, get to work!” It is not enough that we have Maya to contend with, but we also have to do some serious house cleaning to remove the debris of the multi tenacled ego (also a creation of Maya).
“How many have fallen there!” The answer: virtually everybody. I can just imagine Blake making this statement is disbelief and exasperation. I believe most don’t get any kind of clarity until they are looking death right in the eyes. And then they die, so their work remains incomplete. Some see the end but are too fearful to proceed. Some do proceed but end up in mental institutions, or addicted to anti depressants. Is it too much to bear? We all know damned well when we sell out to ourselves.
“They stumble all night over bones of the dead.” Here, I believe Blake is speaking about our fascination with our own stories, our fascination with, and our unwillingness to let go of, our past. How many times do we need to say our story before we realize it has nothing to do with the here and now!? The past is one of Maya’s main distraction devices. We all had bad things that happened to us… Get Over It!!! But on and on I go, parsing out the drivel of a lifetime. Aren’t I special?
“And feel they know not what but care,” And so, in the end, rather than march forward in the face of fear towards truth and away from all falsity, we fall back into comfort. As I witness life, it is almost as if men are playing dumb, acting like they don’t know what game they are playing. Rather than play the real game, they fall back into the warmth of the tribe, looking like they give a damn about capital punishment, relationship status, and career choices. I could see Maya smiling with glee. She must have had a really good day when she created the caring feelings that come with the tribe. Your heart is your ego, and that is a tough pill to swallow.
“And wish to lead others, when they should be led.” And still, Maya has yet another trick up her gold inlaid, laced sleeve. Once one gets even a whiff of clarity, the first impulse is to share it, and teach others. Here we have more delusion and distraction to feed an unexamined ego. The quickest way off the path, is to assume you have something to say. Ego quickly kicks in, and all progress is halted. Why is it so hard to live in the question? Temptations abound around us. Maya is sharpening her arrows. I have learned that only when I shut up will the universe speak to me.
William Blake, 1757-1827, life mask made in 1823 The Somnambulists by Joanna Kane
This is a brilliant poem. It is a powerful amalgam of words. Bravo William Blake!
Here, in this blog, I am sharing my observations. Please question everything. What, if anything, you may agree with, I especially invite you to look deeper. Life appears to me to have so many layers, each revealing just a bit more, until finally all becomes simple and silent. Is it simple and silent for you?
Honesty is the best policy. And Brutal Honesty is the only medicine for this path.
For more information on our upcoming events, Click on The Bridge above for more information.
It is our observation that men are very logical beings. We have great minds; we like to think. In fact, this capacity to remain calm and think is one of our great gifts. We can lift our head out of the clouds, look out to the future, and chart a course. We view the world objectively with our five senses.
But what about our Sixth Sense? What about that spark that no longer flickers. Author Stuart Wilde, who wrote a book titled The Sixth Sense, commented: “Once you open to the power and omniscience of the sixth sense, you can perceive life in all its subtlety and vastness.”However, for most of us, any sense of magic and wonder were killed as we outgrew childhood and started to listen to the whisperings of our parents, the neighbors, and what passes for mass media entertainment. We are buried in a thunderstorm of static! We offer this men’s event called The Bridge because we know there are men of all ages out there in the world who want to get off the merry go round at the next stop. The Bridge is such an opportunity.
Our experience of the world is a psychic phenomenon. The laws of the physical world are based on certain principles that have been observed and proven. Unlike objects and events in the physical world, psychic phenomena is made up of unobservable forces and events. Energy is a force that exists in both realms. The laws of psychic phenomena rely on the forces that drive energy more so than the principles that describe physical matter. And it is that energy which courses through our bodies, providing the pulse and breath which sustain us. Study up on the wise amongst us, and there is little argument that we live in a world of illusion, a world where what we presume to be so is not so. Christians have their water turned into wine. Muslims have their Muhammad splitting the Moon.
It appears there are two fundamentally different ways to experience the world: Objectively or Psychically. One mission of The Bridge is to reacquaint men with their natural ability to straddle both worlds, the objective world and the psychic world. By participating in and experiencing the world psychically we begin to learn the laws of the universe and therefore understand the totality of all the conditions of our existence, whereby we can influence the phenomenon of the waking state. We begin to become sensitive in the objective world so as to observe unusual coincidences and significances that our verbal (aka “monkey”) mind tends to overlook.
Mystics, shamans, and medicine men simply notice the phenomenon that they see in dreams and visions, and come to see those same phenomenons in the objective world. The wizard has a magical relationship to all the things that can change, appear, and disappear in the waking state which are conceived and perceived as psychic phenomena.
Men who open themselves up to experience the psychic phenomenon begin to notice patterns. These patterns appear in nature, in relationships, in work, and in spiritual growth. The Bridge allows men and encourages men to develop the quality of acceptance of both internal and external observation. Over time, the nature of all existence becomes more and more obvious. Out of chaos comes clarity. From our observations, rules can be developed, a sort of a secret code, a doctrine created in a mystery school, which allows a man to work with life, to work with nature, and to make distinctions between the ego’s directions and the universe’s guidance.
As one progresses down this path, one realizes ultimately there is no distinction between the internal world and the external world. The waking state affects dreams, and dreams affect the waking state. There is a complete and mind bending crossover. The place of cross over has been referred to as the “third place” which is the place where the shaman, and the wizard, and the magician live. In The Bridge, we become more sensitive to daily life lived as a psychic experience. As you look out into the world, you will see most men completely disregard their psychic world and the magician lies dead.
Ultimately, one may obtain an awareness of all the coincidence of all phenomena and achieve a condition of what the sage Adi Da refers to as a state of “Brilliant Equanimity.” As a man begins to reawaken to his dormant powers, and gets a sense of the exuberant path of exploration that lies ahead, a spirit imbues life with excitement, hunger and recognition. To further quote Aleister Crowley: “A most astounding phenomenon has happened to us; we have had an experience which makes Love, fame, rank, ambition, wealth, look like thirty cents; and we begin to wonder passionately, “What is truth?” The Universe has tumbled about our ears like a house of cards, and we have tumbled too. Yet this ruin is like the opening of the Gates of Heaven! Here is a tremendous problem, and there is something within us which ravins for its solution.”
In order to move toward this state and ultimately achieve this state, one must awaken from the suppressed state of the being and transcend the dogmas that so effectively suppress it in the common world. We must rediscover the psychic nature of the world and each man must rediscover his own existence as a psychic process. We must begin to see our consciousness in terms of infinity and ease the fears that throttle our souls.
To summarize, we at The Bridge feel that accepting and embracing and deciphering your psychic world are the first steps on the most exciting path one may pursue in this lifetime. Otherwise nothing that happens to you in the psychic world will seem real. Rather you will have doubts and explanation and no great change will occur. At the Bridge, during our 3 days together, we work together to pass through this crisis in which the inner world, the psychic space is dominated by the objective world, and in dissecting the crisis, and exposing ourselves to mystery, and observing the laws and patterns of the universe, we begin to reclaim our birthright as magical, psychic beings, capable of joy and wonder which we naturally share with all those with whom we share our lives.
The Bridge is a mystery school for the heart warrior. If you feel called, come join us.
*****************************
For more information on our upcoming events, Click on The Bridge above for more information.
“Well look who crawled out from under his rock!” David W.
It has been a while since I sat down to type out some words. I have been talking about writing a book. Talk talk talk. Blah blah, freaken blah… Have you ever felt like your life is one big honkin piece of bullshit? Perhaps not. I have certainly felt, no, cross that, I do feel like my life is one big honkin piece of bullshit! I am the guy with the potential. I am the guy that other guys expect much from. I am the guy for whom it appears things come easy. It is my time. Or is it? Is it time for us all? Have you had some version of this monotonous grating conversation blasting in your head? Start writing or take the pipe. And although the pipe is sometimes rather attractive, I will start writing. “Do Something!!!”
Inspiration is for Amateurs!
I have been reading more than usual lately. I am now reading Anna Karenina by Leo Tolstoy. I just finished reading Freedom by Jonathon Franzen. I am always reading some nonfiction having to do with truth realization. I read to feel what it must be like to be a real writer. I read to get into the heads of the authors. I imagine Jonathon Franzen sitting down every day, day after day, creating this fantasy world, with his fantasy characters, all with their unique insights and opinions. I love Hemmingway. I imagine him going to work each day, sitting in his writing space in Paris, putting words to his thoughts, feeling satisfied if he put together just one good sentence.
Inspiration is for Amateurs! Charlie Rose is the man! If you don’t know of Charlie Rose, he has a daily talk show on PBS. He features topical guests, politicians, pundits, actors, writers and professional personalities. My DVR records every new Charlie Rose show so I can scan through in my free time (like when I am not writing!) and watch the interviews that interest me. Last month, Steve Martin was on speaking about the publication of his first full length novel, its theme and characters.
As Charlie does, he was asking Steve about the creative process, and what drives that process. Steve said that the process of creating something, and putting that something out for public consumption, makes him feel a bit more alive. Charlie Rose then cut to a clip of sculptor Richard Serra, who I had never heard of before as I am not drawn to any sculptors with the exception of Rodin, who was responding to Rose’s question about the creative process. Painter Chuck Close spoke up, laughing as he said “Inspiration is for Amateurs, the rest of us show up and get to work!” When I heard those words, I felt like someone had punched me in the gut. “Inspiration is for Amateurs.” In other words, create the space for the magic to show up. Discipline. Create the space, day after day, put my fingers on the keys, day after day, regardless of my “feelings.” Inspiration is for amateurs! So here I type, warming up my conduit muscles for the monumental 2011 task ahead.
Who is Chuck Close? I did some research on Chuck Close. What an amazing story! This is from Wikipedia:
“The Event”
On December 7, 1988, Close felt a strange pain in his chest. That day he was at a ceremony honoring local artists in New York City and was waiting to be called to the podium to present an award. Close delivered his speech and then made his way across the street to Beth Israel Medical Center where he suffered a seizure which left him paralyzed from the neck down. The cause was diagnosed as a spinal artery collapse.[10] Close called that day “The Event.” For months, Close was in rehab strengthening his muscles; he soon had slight movement in his arms and could walk, yet only for a few steps. He has relied on a wheelchair since.
However, Close continued to paint with a brush strapped onto his wrist with tape, creating large portraits in low-resolution grid squares created by an assistant. Viewed from afar, these squares appear as a single, unified image which attempt photo-reality, albeit in pixelated form. Although the paralysis restricted his ability to paint as meticulously as before, Close had, in a sense, placed artificial restrictions upon his hyperrealist approach well before the injury. That is, he adopted materials and techniques that did not lend themselves well to achieving a photorealistic effect. Small bits of irregular paper or inked fingerprints were used as media to achieve astoundingly realistic and interesting results. Close proved able to create his desired effects even with the most difficult of materials to control.
The Law of the Reversed Vector.
So much of my life now seems to be about understanding just what I have been through these last fifty years of life. When it comes to reading nonfiction, there are just a few authors that hold my interest. One of those authors is Richard Rose, often referred to as the greatest guru no one ever heard of. I have often said that my life is an ongoing “being in alignment” with the universe. It is a bit more than going with the flow, but you get the point. In noticing what is required to be in alignment, I have started to make a list of rules, or laws that one may adhere to throughout this life experience. For example, most people have heard of the law of attraction. Simply put, what you think about is what you bring about. Crude but effective. Now I am reading a 37 year old book that I found in a used bookstore in Los Angeles, and I come upon the Law of the Reversed Vector, which is brilliant. Not as simple to understand as the law of attraction, but brilliant nonetheless.
A human being, man or woman, can become a vector, a force of nature, moving in any direction. The strength of the force, as pertains to the pursuit of truth, is directly proportional to the amount and quality of energy and attention applied to the pursuit. Think of Ahab’s obsession with Moby Dick. The brilliance here is that this law is so counter intuitive, yet so spot on in reality. This law is all about the direction in which the vector must be pointed. Rose is saying that you cannot vector towards the truth. Rather, you can only vector away from non-truth.
You cannot vector towards the truth. Rather, you can only vector away from non-truth.
When all non truth has been examined and discarded, one is left with what Rose calls the “Absolute.” Rose writes “It may be said that the Absolute is a state or essence from which all untruths have been subtracted, leaving behind a region of pure fact.” Wow! Did you get it? Powerful.
“His uniqueness comes from the particular game that he plays.” Richard Rose
Lessons Learned
Patience – I end this year humbled. Nothing appears clear and definitive in my future. I am not running to stand still. Rather, I am standing still. Patience seems to be one of the big lessons of the year. I see there is no need to rush ahead, to reach out to grab, to claim anything that I feel is mine. Rather, I am content to wait at the back of the line. All things will come in perfect order.
Death is Near – Last year, my wife’s mother died. This year, our good friend Daven Joy took his own life. Just two weeks ago, my 74 year old father was hospitalized and had surgery to remove a faulty gall bladder. My friends are losing their fathers and mothers. Seems many are leaving this plane for whatever may be next. Two months ago, I had a dream. In the dream, I knew that I would be dying in one day. I had both a sense of fear, and marvel, at the realization that in 24 hours, I would know what happens at death. Then I woke up.
Nothing lives up to its billing! Nothing! – From Day One out of the birth canal, it appears we are all living in some sort of dream world. Implicit promises are made. Get an education; it will get you your dream job. Get married, it will make you happy. Find your life’s purpose; it will give your life meaning. Have children. Make money. Have sex. Buy this. Buy that. Be a good father. Go to church. Eat, Pray, Love. In the end, it all falls short. It has to! Otherwise, we would not feel the discontent that drives us to go deeper into ourselves for something that is real, for something that is true.
