ROVING REPORTER RANTS: WHEN THE LAKE OF THE HEART BECOMES PURE, THE REFLECTION OF AN ORDINARY PERSON BECOMES THE REFLECTION OF A SAINT

ROVING REPORTER RANTS: WHEN THE LAKE OF THE HEART BECOMES PURE, THE REFLECTION OF AN ORDINARY PERSON BECOMES THE REFLECTION OF A SAINT

      This is how the saying really goes.

      The point that is being made is that in your innermost mind, you are not so different then a saint.

      If you look at the deeper scriptures, what is being said is this: don't concentrate on how different
the Christ is from yourself, concentrate on the Identity between the two of you, ie: "make the two one"
(Gospel of Thomas).

      A monopoly has been made of the Christ - by saying how godlike he is, how unique, what special miracles he performed, how different he is from all of us: but, really, this is not the teaching at all.
Remember the scriptures make constant use of metaphor and symbols:  *



      how he:     walked on water

                                                  Padma Sambhava was also said to sit on water, meditate on a lotus
                                                                               flower atop a lake.

                       One way of interpreting this symbol is that the master who is portrayed as
                               sitting on water meditating, or walking on water speaking parables**
                                is so portrayed to indicate that this person is no longer ruled by
                                his/her lower passions. The underwater world of birth and death and
                                clutching after things desired is no longer part of this person's life.

 
  how he:     caused the blind to see

                       The metaphor  being used here is the metaphor of bringing
                        light to the darkness of those who cannot see. Bringing light to their
                         eyes. In other words, bringing  enlightenment.And therefore
                          healing the blind.

   

how he:       raised the dead  (Lazarus)
                     
                                                  
                         To shed some light on this metaphor, I'll give you that quotation
                         again from: "The Seven Sermons to the Dead." ***
                         "The dead went forth to Jerusalem, and when they did not find
                           what they sought, they came to seek teaching from me."                   
                          Basilides wrote the  "Seven Sermons to the Dead"
                          Carl Jung ( the great psychologist) got his hands on the
                          Seven Sermons to the Dead and studied them deeply. And so
                          the ancient teachings of Basilides became part of the teachings
                          and psychological teachings of Carl Jung.(*** discoverd
                          at Nag Hammadi, Egypt, 1945 - part of the discovery of
                           The Gospel Scrolls). 
                         
                        Weren't  those early, early Christian teachers/masters something!
                         Oh, that's right!  We've never heard of them! That's because they
                          were expunged from the Bible.  So that what is left,
                           I like to call  the Castrated Bible.
                     
                       
                          There were esoteric Christian teachings. Just because they have been
                          almost totally destroyed does not mean they did not exist.

                           The "dead" were those who were living in the darkness of ignorance,
                            those who had not yet realized. These were the people seeking
                            the teachings of Bsilides

                            When a person who is "dead" has a glimpse.of the vision of the eternal ,
                             that person is said to be 'raised from the dead'.


                             All these  metaphors and symbols (parables) point to one fundamental
                             teaching which is impossible to understand and hard to realize:

                            "He who understands my words 
                              Shall become as I am
                               And I shall become he;
                                And the hidden things will be
                                 Revealed to him."     said Jesus Christ  (Gospel of Thomas)


                            
                                In the east, when a person realizes he/she is Buddha, people
                                congratulate him.
                                        Here in the west, when a person realizes he/she is Christ,
                                 we should do the same.

                          
                       
       


                               Endnotes:  * Northrop Frye, "The Great Code".
                                                   I had the good fortune to be a student of Northrop
                                                   Frye's for four years at Victoria College, University
                                                   of Toronto,  English Language and Literature Program.
                                                    His lectures on  symbolism in the Bible
                                                    were essential to my learning.
 
                           
                              ( This is the end of this article
                                  The previous article might be
                                   unintentionally attached. )
                     __________________________________________________________




                         





                              

WHEN THE LAKE OF THE HEART BECOMES PURE, PRETERNATURAL REALITIES EMERGE

        The three words: primordial, primal and preternatural are all words I love. Because when you are taking a psychological expedition all the way up the Psyche into the Heart of Darkness, these are the sort of  words that must be used to express the realities you  find inside yourself.
        It is a process of reaching the arm all the way to the shoulder into the snake barrel of seething human existence, until you find what you're looking for or something screams.

        Space is not the final frontier, THE MIND IS THE FINAL FRONTIER!
         And since it's a long journey within, preparations must be made.
          That's what  "The School For Mystics" is all about - making preparations. The problem is no one ever seems to know what they're preparing for, so it's best to have all kinds of supplies.

           The quote above about "The lake of the heart" goes more like this:

         

         
              when the lake of an ordinary man's heart
               becomes pure and calm:
                it is the reflection of a saint
                 which appears within it."

              This saying alone could be enough to start an expedition
               into the heart-mind all the way up-river into the darkness
                of the soul.

               I don't know whom I'm quoting in the passage above written in italics,
but I'm getting the basic thought across.
               The expedition I'm talking about begins with what I like to call "sitting".
But it can be sitting anywhere, or lying down, or dreaming. It's best not to  get
too caught up in the method.
                 And it doesn't matter what medicines or fuels are necessary. There's
no point in getting too specific or judgmental about such things. We are talking about
a journey on the inner river into the core of the hidden continent.
                 We can relax, just as  we relax with friends on the edge of the forest,
when preparing for a camping trip.

                  This is a practical journey and there's no point in thinking about or even
considering other people's judgmental horseshit. We don't care what the name of God is.
God has many names, and it's a sacred matter.
                   It can be a hilarious moment, watching a group of people argue about the
name of the sacred. Sometimes it's best when the sacred has no name.
                   In fact, we are looking for realities at the core of the Mind. We already have
our  names, but perhaps we are looking for our Name.
                    This journey is never anything more than a discovering of the nature of Identity.
                     And when an identity, an ego state, discovers his/her own Identity,
this is when the voyage touches the eternal, the magic and mystery at the heart of things.

                     "The eye through which you see God is the same eye through which
                       God sees you." Meister Eckhart.
              
 

              

                       "The ant's a centaur in his dragon world."  (Famous poet who's name I've forgotten)



                       "Why did you come out into the desert - to see a man
                          speaking platitudes and wearing soft clothing?"         (The Gospel of Thomas)


                         " The dead traveled to Jerusalem, and when they did not
                             find what they sought, they came to speak to me."     (Basilides - early Christian
                                                                                                                                     teacher/master)

ROVING REPORTER RANTS: ANOTHER MESSAGE FROM BLIND JIMMY!

ROVING REPORTER RANTS: ANOTHER MESSAGE FROM BLIND JIMMY!

MESSAGE FROM BLIND JIMMY (part two)

Editors' Note:
__________

We are working under difficult conditions here. The notes that fool
sends us are scrunched all  up - as if some madman tried to hide
these writings. As if the moron believed he was being followed -
drunk as all too usual... and the man is supposed to be a writer!.
Well, you won't be a writer for long if you are consumed by drink
and the taking of chemicals.

       But, in our Roving Reporter's defense... And he was a defence
attorney...     ....     ... Given his nature, he could scarsely  have been anything
else.  Hell, how do you spell defence? How do you spell scarcely?
I'm getting pissed off, and I'm not even the writer!
My goodness... in all honesty ( which ha! ha! is our policy) someone
should edit this. Oh, gee, that someone is me.

                           Please tell me I have not gone mad..
        We always knew Blind Jimmy had crossed the line.
had climbed the wrong apple tree, had prayed at the wrong picture of the
President (Nixon)...  ...  ... Was three bricks short of a load,
was a low watt bulb on a bright stage of spotlights,
was the poor white cousin nobody ever mentioned,
the drooling pervert we thought was locked away forever,
but who just showed up last week on our block...
We called the cops, but that's usually a bad idea in this
neighbourhood
    

                   ___________________________


May I speak?

It's me again. Your intrepid, truthful crusading reporter. And we are returning to the
the note from Blind Jimmy. We'll call it "Part Two"


MADNESS FROM SEVERAL SOURCES
PART TWO:   MESSAGE   FROM BLIND JIMMY

-----------------------------------------------------
Things seem to be exploding in the microwave.
And I fell asleep making my specialty (boiled eggs).
So now I have to eat remnants, this, my other specialty:
"Exploded Eggs."
The beauty of this dish (I can hear the French waiter saying it):
"You must scrape it off the ceiling...
before you have your first taste... delectable!)



Oh God, is there no editor? Am I all alone here?
I can't spell in the evenings.The evening just began
 after my work day... 6:15 AM.




      Have you evr had mornings like this?
Maybe not... ( I just heard some noise. My next
door neighbour is getting his Court-ordered
injection.) This is how I met my wife.

Thank God they're
gone!
       I support forcible needles such as this...
But only for dyed-in-the-wool, no hope
repetitive rapists.... not just one poor
guy aroused beyond the limits
of his impoverished brain.... by a really
sexy car commercial.
         You are free to not agree.



          Have you ever had mornings like this?
Maybe not.
           Well, if you're living south of 60,
you probably do not hear the ravens
gurgling pre-dawn through your open
window.
             I'm living south of sixty, so this
shouldn't be happening to me.
             
            

ANOTHER MESSAGE FROM BLIND JIMMY!

ANOTHER MESSAGE FROM BLIND JIMMY:
______________________________________



        I"M SURE YOU HAVEN'T ( ha! Ha!), but
have you ever woken up facedown in bed,
and looked out through a far too open window
with no screen on it.... And you think this
in your mind, without any previous thought
touching your brain, you think: "OOOOoooooooo,
I'm such an asshole!"

       Now if this has never happened to you,
well, I'm surprised. Because it has happened to your
Roving Reporter many times, and after all,
in my office we believe in truth and  integrity
at all costs.
        Some times  the cost is quite high.
         Sometimes such honesty is so costly
that you'll lose another reporting job.
          Maybe this is why I'm writing you now
for free.

         I just heard a voice and I
looked up suddenly (which is always
a mistake with a hangover). I suppose it
must have been my voice. It wasn't
"The Cat That Someone Forced Me to Take",
because, crazy beast that she can be, she usually
doesn't talk... she merely stares at me in
a most disquieting way.
      
        I find eye contact disturbing at times
such as this. Especially when I look
in the mirror.
        Now I don't have any mirrors
in this apartment.... Not true! There's one in the
bathroom. But the Big Guy hasn't bought a
light bulb in seven months. Me, I don't need a
mirror. But some of the other personalities
do like to look at themselves.

        I went to the dentist in the middle
of last week. He said, "I'm going to pull
some teeth."
         I tried to say "WTF"! but there were
at least three hands in my mouth and
my protest didn't come out coherently..
          He said, "I'm only going to pull some
teeth from the left side."
           I woke up this morning, looked in
the mirror that wasn't there and said:
"Dear God! I hope the left side
was the right side!"

ROVING REPORTER RANTS: DIVINE WISDOM, WEALTH AND SIMPLE MORALITY --- SCHOOL FOR MYSTICS, BASIC FARE

ROVING REPORTER RANTS: DIVINE WISDOM, WEALTH AND SIMPLE MORALITY --- SCHOOL FOR MYSTICS, BASIC FARE


The one you were seeing in the mirror, and staring at for... what is it? twelve hours of torture . He is
still devouring and pursuing you. It is old memories of war, conquests, and agonizing fire that makes you doubt...
yourself. And since you have families,  (No one blames you).
                  And since we have blown the cones, no one but Melissa... will sit here
and know the messages, And she will speak of your agonies and fears.

ROVING REPORTER RANTS: THE NAG HAMMADI LIBRARY, GOSPELS NOT INCLUDED IN THE BIBLE

People have been asking me if there is a source book for what I have been saying, quoting the Gospel of Thomas, the Gospel of Philip, and the Gospel of Truth. I suggest, "The Hag Hammadi Library",
                                                                                                     ____________________
James M. Robinson, General Edition, Harper and Row Publishers,  San Francisco, etc.
First published in 1981.

For the past thirty years or so, I have been reviewing the texts, and re-writing some of them in a
more modern English.

I suppose you can call what I have done,  a "Commentary." But it is really more than that. At any rate,
I have not yet published my notes, so I refer you to the above publication.

 The difficulty I've found with some of the texts, which have been called "gnostic", I suppose in an attempt
at further derogation, is that many of the passages are extremely difficult to understand.

I worked hard at some of these texts. Actually, I sat with them on top of a cliff in the Canadian north,
and saw if some light would shine through them. The Gospels from the discovery at Nag Hammadi
are not difficult. It's some of the more obscure texts to which I'm referring.

There are truths in this library human kind has not discussed for 2,000 years. And the suppression of the earliest Christians was a deliberate act. deliberate oppression, not only by the Roman Empire, but by
what I refer to in those times as the Empire Church. (see some of the earlier Roving Reporter Rants articles
on this site)

Eventually in 425 A.D., the Council of Nicea decided what books should be in the Bible. To my mind,
it was a decision made essentially by the Chamber of Commerce of that time.

These Nag Hammadi Gospels are not merely gnostic. They are some of the earliest of the Christian
writings.

They were discovered in Egypt in 1945, one year before the discovery of the Dead Sea Scrolls. In my opinion, the Nag Hammadi find  is far more important than the better known Dead Sea Scrolls
discovery.

Although, thanks to the daring work of John Allegro, we know that there was a Teacher of Righteousness
who came out of the Essene community about the year 65 B.C. He was a great healer and he was crucified,
and it could be we have our dates wrong about the beginning of the Christian era.

John Allegro was the British translator of the Dead Sea Scrolls, and he is interesting because he had
no over-riding religious affiliation, nothing that might have skewed his translation. He was discredited
because of his publication of his book, "The Sacred Mushroom and the Cross." Though we now know -
 thanks to many fine courageous scholars who have stepped forward, one of them a Russian -
we know that he  was right all along.                       see johnallegro.org

SAINTS AND BODHISATTVAS AROUND US

PRAYER FOR STRENGTH
______________________

     After the Easter blessing, the poet called out, "O you Christian saints who surround me, O you

Bodhisattvas   and holy ones without name, who share the one goal,

to liberate men from their ignorance and bondage, to show the holy path to them."

                "To open the eyes of the blind, and raise the dead, and let the dead speak, so that we may

listen to them and greet, embrace and acknowledge them, so that they may find home, out of their

endless suffering."

                "I ask you only this, whether or not I am worthy to undertake such a task, aid me as you can,

and as you will, for I know you are undying around me, and I know somehow,

 through some great mystery, you are able still to see and offer aid: and that you are willing

 to speak through me, as part of the Voice of the Lord"

                "May you lend to me your holy strength, for I am weak and nothing and empty, unless

you arise and fill me and make the hills echo with the silent symphony

of your words."

                Every time I call out a greeting like this, I feel I must tell you,  the words come

to me and pass through like a a freight train running through a tunnel at night,

following its one single light, bright beyond compare.


                 Now people visit me in my sleep; and people visit me in my sleep

when they are dying. I have encounters with real  people in dreams.

. And perhaps this has always been occurring, but I simply

have not recognized these acres of paradise, without you as my guides.

I know now, however that paradise exists... within us and outside of us. And there is

far, far, far more here than meets the eye.

                 The prevalent energy of the modern age has been doubt. Because if it is ever

seen among us that within is this wild world of voices and spirits and angels

breath, the walls of our prisons would fall down like the walls of Jericho.  The walls

of the modern day are not physical walls, but brick walls inside our spirit and soul, walling

us off from our Self-Belief.

                 Believe me, there is dancing here already, and spirit and joy. Once it is seen,

that saints and Bodhisattvas, and holy men unknown and unsurpassed exist always in the spheres between

life and death, and that when once invited they will visit us and set us also dancing with

the multitudes of angels on the infinite head of a pin.... Once we have this knowledge,

which holy women  and men have always given us ,

what retraction is possible? How can we ever fall back into darkness again? How can

we ever forget?  When we know what we ought to know, because time and again

we have been told....

               "The holy realms exists.  They have always existed these heavens beyond death.

Did you know we can visit them, while we are still alive?"


               There is no longer an absolute necessity to study the words written in ancient

texts, preserved in the sacred sands of Egypt.  Do you not know that the Living One

is now among us, and has returned to us, through the miracle of the sacred sands.

And after 2,000 years, He is with us once again, as He had promised us, and now

there are mysteries beyond compare.

               How can anyone speak these mysteries? Who is worthy? I don't know

and I no longer care.

               Only know this, the doors of the graves are opening, and those ones meant

to live forever are now capable, willing and able: to greet and visit us and do

a dance with us among the spheres.

                For it is come now, the New Time.


                And I need not be plagued by self doubt for what is not yours only,

and what certainly is not only mine.








As an aside:
_________            

                  There is so much nasty, greedy and mind-numbing activity going on on the earth these

days, that it's tempting to jump in and say, "These are the last days." There are signs all over

the earth: earthquakes, and pestilence, volcanoes, tsunamis and genocide.And more worrisome

still is the deranged thinking, the suppression of free thought and suppression of eroticism,

repression of dreams, repression psychologically.

                 The problem is,  if we think it's the apocalypse, we can make it the apocalypse;

we can make it  "the last days " by self-fulfilling prophesy.

                  The human mind is very powerful, and what we think or imagine, we can actualize.

                   This is not some New Age pipe dream; we can really do it! And in this case it's

a bad thing, an unfortunate reality. Because we can destroy ourselves quite easily. We

can imagine Armageddon  and we can bring it about. And this would be a colossal waste

of time

                Do we really want to take ten thousand years to get back to where we are now?

                A wise bush shaman once said to me, " We can actualize anything. But the first duty

of a teacher or a leader is to curb the natural suicidal tendencies of his people."    End of aside.
                                                                                                                           _________



                  
                   Something very powerful seems to be going on these days.

                   If you are having visions or dreams which are too real to be dreams, in which

you seem to encounter real people,  feel free to e-mail me at: zappadat@gmail.com


                  

THE ZONE

        Poets, mystics and players of professional sports all seek out the same flow experience.

It's something that's experienced in the mind, when the body is pumping at peak efficiency.

It's an experience of incredible clarity, when there is no time for thought.

        If you think, your reflexes are slowed. When the full flow of freely associating words

passes through you like a river of pristine water, you can't think, all you can do is scribble

down what is happening, what you're hearing and seeing.

       When you're at the net in tennis, it's best when there's nothing in your mind

but pure attention in the moment. If you start doubting yourself, say in your head, "I can't

do this," then you're not paying attention and you'll miss the quick ball, and you won't

be able to respond because you've prevented the body from responding fast and

naturally.

        It's the same for the ultimate endeavour, the hunting of the mystic for that

timeless secret moment when you know the answer to all the questions you've been

plaguing yourself about. Rationality leads the old grey rat into the dead-end alley,

but reason will never get him past the impossible situation, the brick wall at the end

of the alley, the paradox to which all analytical thinking leads.

         To me this is the true sport, the ultimate experience of pursuit, the miraculous moment

of Discovery we all know in our genes is the purpose of our birth. In the east it's called

"kensho",  "satori",  "enlightenment".  In the west, we describe this moment we seek

by such mysterious phrases as "the Grail", "the philosopher's stone" that alchemical moment when

the lead within you turns to the gold, when the 'great doubt' turns to the great knowing

experience, when finally we may thankfully say: "It is enough."

          Words will not get you there, to that pure land where you need to go.  Thinking

sure will not get you there. Thinking can only lead you to that place where you

must stop thinking.  And images we use as signposts along the way to realization,

these images must dissolve into that formless place where there are no images.

           In the west we call that place by names such as "the plenum void" or  "paradise"

"heaven", or that place from which all definitions come. The meaning of this place we describe

is what the early Christians used to refer to as "eternal life," and the place the zen people refer to

as the foundation,  your original name.

           These are things that are said when you are in that place: "Before Abraham was, I am."

            Or, "Between heaven and earth, I alone exist."


            Through us the earth comes to know itself.

             Through us, the universe realizes its own Mind.


              Names don't matter.  What matters is that all great explorers and searchers, those who

risk death, and step beyond the village gates, all of us seek the same place that is beyond time

and place. All of us, whatever the religion, we all seek the same thing, call it  divine,

if you wish. Call it home.

              This place is found in the zone.

               Space is not the final frontier. The inner ocean of the human mind is the final frontier.                                                          

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MYSTICS AND MASTERS , TEACHING THE DEAD TO SEE

                                                                        
                                                                        
                                                                        

        "The eye through which you see God is the eye through which God sees you.
 Meister Eckhart


        In deep sitting an experience takes place in which it is said:  "It's just like a mirror."
Now of course, no actual mirror exists, but various schools like to use this image. The zen people
are particularly fond of  the image, and they use it to express experiences approaching  'satori'.
        This mirror-like experience is also what Meister Eckhart was describing with the above words.

         When you think of Christian mystics, almost no one comes to most peoples' minds. This is because
the church of most eras did not like to discuss the mystical experience; such experiences were reserved for the clergy only; and best not talked about with the common folks.
          The fact that the clergy was  busy selling forgiveness and taking care of the many  temporal, physical church demands, meant the clergy itself was not very much inclined to focus on the mystical. There was so little time!
           As anyone knows, anyone who has run a large business, thoughts of the Union with God
are not the first concern you face at 7 o'clock in the morning!

            Because of the religious right these days in North America and it's moronic, simplistic obsessions,
most intelligent people, scholars and certainly mystics do not want to be associated with the church
or with Christians. And you can scarcely blame such people for being reticent! Right wing politics!
             Jesus! Contraception! Gay marriage!  Who cares? These are not religious issues, nor are they
spiritual issues: and they sure as hell are not mystical issues!
             What is needed is for men and women of good faith and of mystical experience to come forward
and rebuild the tradition of Christ. A system of mystical initiation and congratulation is needed.
              Whoops!  Got a little off topic, once again.

               "The School For Mystics"has got nothing to do with the pulpit.  And thank God for that!
               No, no!  In the school for mystics we're allowed to have a little fun! Or what's the point?

                OK.  Let's name a few Cristian mystics.
                 Meister Eckhart is most definitely one.  And another one is Hildegard of Bingem:

                 I'm quoting freely from memory: "I am that living and fiery essence that glows
                  in the grasses of the fields."

                 Oh, let's not forget another mystic who thrived in the Rasta-Biblical tradition, Bob

                  Marley:  "There's a natural mystic flowing through the air."

                   There is also Balsilides of Alexandria. It's easy to forget about him, because he's been deliberately stamped out of our history. He was an early Christian teacher and master. You can read about him in: "The Nag Hammadi Library" ed. James M Robinson: 

                    "The dead went to Jerusalem and did not find what they did seek. And so they
                       have returned to ask questions of me."

                    When the early Christians (also sometimes called "the Gnostics" ) refer to the dead and raising people from the dead, it's a particular turn of phrase. The dead are those who have not yet risen to know. The blind are those who live in darkness, because they have not seen the light; this is why they need to take the path to be "enlightened."
                     Once the dead have risen to see, they are no longer dead.
                      Once the darkness of the blind has been enlightened, their blindness has been cured!

      "He who finds the interpretation of these words will not experience death." Gospel of Thomas

                      What I like about the study of the early Christians and these new gospels discovered in 1945
by the Nile River, (ancient gospels preserved by the dry sands of Egypt),  there is actual discourse between master and disciple. It is a series of question and answer sessions, very like the early days of Zen Buddhism,
where there is also much confrontation between master and student.

                       To quote Christ, the teacher, another mystic: "Cleave a piece of wood, 
                                                                                             I am there.
                                                                                             Lift up a stone and 
                                                                                             you will find me there."
                       

                         Another phrase which cannot be understood intellectually or rationally but which can be used

as a Mindshock during sitting is:  "Before Abraham was, I am."

                        Every time the Universe within shakes our sandbox, new sacred geometries occur.

                        " Within you, jewels are hanging from the trees. Pearls and rubies of worth

                            beyond imaging."

                        "I see the same view through an electron microscope as I do through a

                           powerful telescope.  Inner is outer - literally!"

                        "In the fructifying Mind of the Multiverse, crystals and diamonds

                          twist in the galactic wind."       (Notes from an ecstatic experience).

                         

                           Sometimes you have to go a little crazy... in order to join the dance.

                           "Some people never go crazy. What terrible lives they must lead."

                              (Charles Bukowski).

                          

   

                         

                     
                       

                    

            




         

WHO TURNED ON THE LIGHTS? PUSSY CHOW. BIRTH OF THE SCHOOL FOR MYSTICS.

        The School For Mystics started out as light-hearted fun, because I wanted to discuss a whole bunch of experiences I've had all over the world in my private search for the meaning at the core of things.
         The truth is, I've never gotten used to this astounding world we live in, which came as a hell of a surprise to me.
          Maybe it's because I was a premature caesarian birth, and I awoke in amazed shock, shook my head
and I'm told  I gave out a loud cry meaning something like: "Who turned on the lights?"    As I was untimely ripped from my mother's womb.
            And since I've grown here and managed to visit various countries, with their various outlandish beliefs,
and since I've studied a a number of so-called outstanding universities, where I've studied certain nonsensical
views, and other views that seemed obvious to me:  I still can't get used to the idea that we're all living on some cooled rock, still molten at the center, which is moving through space in a circular pattern at the speed of something like 18,000 miles per second.

          After absorbing this basic reality, I've had trouble addressing myself to financial concerns or
politics. Because my basic reaction is still: "Holy shit! Have you taken a good look around you?"
          The fact of this bewilderingly beautiful planet still stops me for hours at a time. The other day,
for example, I sat for several hours on a rock. The snow was melting all around me, and I could hear
water dripping from tree branches. Occasionally a hawk would sweep by; I could feel it's shadow.
Or a raven would caw and hoot in passing, flying in an unruly way, like some intoxicated bikers I know
being forced to leave town.
           Then something shot by with a ear-shattering roar, and I saw a light flash by, and my reaction
was, "WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT?" It was either one of those jets we get around here, guarding the north east sector, or a hellish dream because my pants were wet, or Tinkerbell dashing past, or the Wild God of Bananaland  shouting, demanding a name. But that is another story for another time.
            So I had a chance to travel a bit around the globe, and so I did, and I visited a number of religious
shrines, and other places that weren't shrines but seemed mystic to me... And what next?
             Well, what was next was some of these Roving Reporter articles. Most of the early articles
I started in the spirit of hilarity. One beginning I loved was, "I was going to send this story in by story in
by pony express, but they shot all the ponies."

             In the stories I pretended I was drinking whiskey even more than I actually was, and the editors of the paper started getting letters saying things such as: "This isn't funny, this man should be institutionalized!"
So I made the stories more and more extreme, which wasn't difficult because my life seemed to be getting
more and more extreme all by itself, without any help from any writer or editor.
              More and more letters were sent to the editors, and even a protesting woman's group occupied
the office of the Chief of Police. (Because they thought an article I'd written called, "Pussy Chow" was a total allegory, when in fact it was the story of a bush cougar attacking my log cabin on a cliff. I had to nail the plank doors closed and light a fire in the window. And fire the odd shot with an M-1 rifle though the glass of the window right in front of me.
                By four thirty AM, I was whispering to the cougar and I could hear her clawing the oak logs just
below my one unshuttered window. I hate to mention this, but the big cat also seemed to be purring.(I don't
expect you to believe this). But I could hear pretty clearly - no lights, no electricity. And she was only five feet away from me through the wall.
                 I knew the cat could hear me and I knew we were getting pretty close. If I had stepped outside, she would have torn my head off.
                 It turned out it had been 20 to 30 to forty below zero all week on the cliff face and the cougar
was starving. And since my secretary had left a bag of used tampons outside my door, the cat had developed
a powerful taste for human blood. And so the attacks.
                 In the morning, heavy claw marks were found in the logs below the one exposed window. The cabin was just a hut, really.

                 After that, I wrote a bunch more stories and I indeed was institutionalized more than once, and the editors had to bail me out, and your Roving Reporter has always felt a compelling need to get to the heart of the story at all times.


                  Out of this came the beginnings of the School for Mystics.


                                                                                               Earlier articles will follow.

WHAT WAS THE NAME OF THAT OLD CALYPSO TUNE? HUNTER S. THOMPSON AND THE WILD HIGHWAY

        I woke up the other morning on a strange couch. There was a bright winter grey light coming in through 

 the blinds. Actually, there were no blinds. Some fool had pulled them down in the night. Some fool had

taken all my clothes off as well. stripped me right bare, no dignity whatsoever - somehow my jockey shorts 

were around my neck. I'm thinking, "Oh God no! Not that routine again! And who  was my audience?"
                     

        I picked up a fuzzy pink blanket and wrapped it around me. Now at least I wouldn't get arrested if I

stepped outside for a newspaper, anything to get me oriented. I needed the date, a sniff at the equinox, a

sense of what the sun was doing... the percentage of oxygen in the upper atmosphere.   Hell, I needed some

air! Clear my mind, find my clothes. See if some malevolent force was doing this to me, or was it just my own

stupidity...

        I needed some food! Maybe peer over the fence, chase something down... breathe, baby,

breathe! I needed to be less irritating.  Hung over like heavy bombers cruising under an overcast sky.

             Stop the madness!

             Quit this gibberish!

              Silence please!  Clear the horizon of your own head...  Sleep.



          There are some things none of us should drink.

           I have an unfortunate tendency to start climbing. I mean, some atavistic urge overtakes me and I climb

lamp posts,red pine trees and  bell towers. Unfortunate legal  circumstances sometimes follow..

           I didn't know where I was. I didn't recognize the people in the hall who were waving at me and

bringing the coffee. I looked in a hand mirror without recognition.  The name written across the glass

 was,  "Johnny  Rock It!"

           Now this did bring a shock and some horrors. I  used to play music under a similar

but different name.
     
           "What day is this?" I asked the  woman  who straightened the back of the room.

I looked out the big window over the street.

             "Day?" .she answered..


            Hungover, but very relaxed, with just the odd shudder and shake. My limbs were very

loose... as if I had been dancing for days. And not to some nasty club-footed heavy four-four Moloch music

either. I could feel Caribbean rhythms had passed through me...Maybe some early calypso:

         

             "I wonder why nobody don't like me

              Or is it the fact that I'm ugly?

              I wonder why nobody don't like me

               Or is it the fact that I'm ugly.?."



               What was the name of this song?  It was circling round my head. Constantly.

               Aha! I had it!   It was Lord Melody from Trinidad! What a song!  The original

highly sexy "zoom! zoom! zoom!"  version.  That was great growing up there!  On the north

coast of Jamaica from the age of six to fourteen, on and off.



               I'd been thinking I was sick. I felt such heaviness all around me, a feeling of doom. But this morning

waking up I realize: "This whole country is depressed all around me! Everybody feels that there's no 

hope, that  the future holds nothing. That all there's going to be is more aggression and violence and 

mind-numbing death until we kill ourselves!"

             Once I realized that,  I just wanted to go back to dancing.

              

              "Hell!" my father once shouted over at me, "That's why they call it a DEPRESSION!

Get it right, boy!"

                Well, Wild Bob's got it right this time. I'm going back to that funny, story-telling music of my early days.

                 "The whole country's going through a nervous breakdown!" Hunter S. Thompson says.

                 


                   Now, once again...   what was that song?  When was the last time we laughed?






                                     *                            *                            *
             

                                                     


 THE HOWLING HIGHWAY H0NOURS HUNTER  S. THOMPSON!                                                                         


         I don't care what the fuckheads and fruit-bats say about his "demeaning focus on drugs." Fuck them! He's a great humorist and an intense defender of  the Constitution and human rights, when he was forced to train his finely-honed mind on such legal matters, he rose to the occasion....

              

               A general feeling of doom. A sickness and horror at all the violence. A nausea....

unsavory taste in the pit of the stomach.

             A feeling that the future will certainly be worse ---- more concentration camps. More horror.

More death.  More guilt, more shame...

              I miss Hunter S. He was the master of the quick shift... writing from

horror to humour and back again.   My God!  I miss that omnivorous prick already.

            I miss the explosions.  I miss the intricacy of his insults.

               
            We almost came to blows over my use of the   "..."  system. He called it lazy and offensive. I called

him a pig-fucker, can't exactly remember what kind.. I loved the homicidal look in his eye. It was

so completely  genuine. One freezing ice-lashing. toe-snipping night in Toronto... In the back of an empty

theater,  we nearly came to terminal blows. Canadian rye will do that to you pretty quickly.

              It was a moment of  pristine clarity and silence.  I'm  certain he enjoyed

the moment. I know I did.  It was the still place they always talk about,

in the midst of the turning world.

             You can't really kill a man like Hunter. You certainly can't kill his Spirit, which has grown by several

megatons since his death. I can feel it rattling, gearing up, blasting up and down the highways of both our

coasts, east and west... from sea to shining sea.

              I can still feel him looking over my shoulder as I'm writing this. And I'm

being careful because the masterful teacher of vicious insight seems to be watching as I write this.

             . I hate being careful when I write. (That's for editing one week later) .My eyes are as sharp as

Hunter's. I'm a better shot than Hunter, though there's no way he'd agree But I don't have his fine gift for

vitriol.

              I keep losing my sense of humor, something he rarely did in print.

             He's welcome at my table any time. And I'm honored if her wants to look over my shoulder

There will always be a strong cold drink, waiting for him here.



          Let's be honest. He's an American hero. He was not afraid to speak up in these decades of Fear

and cowardly, willful blindness.

                This pervasive feeling of fear...

                "There's nothing to fear but fear itself." Roosevelt said this. He helped people out of the last depression.

                
                  I wonder who will help us out of this one.


                   "The definition of madness is loss of a sense of humor." Hunter S. Thompson.
                                



                                         
                                                                      Carpe Diem
                                                                      _____ ____        

                                                                       Discard nothing. Everything may serve.



         
                    What was the name of that old calypso tune?





             

ROVING REPORTER RANTS: DIVINE WISDOM, WEALTH AND SIMPLE MORALITY --- SCHO...

ROVING REPORTER RANTS: DIVINE WISDOM, WEALTH AND SIMPLE MORALITY --- SCHO...: Wealth is difficult. All that we spend a lifetime collecting, all this we lose with age; dying takes everything away. ...

DIVINE WISDOM, WEALTH AND SIMPLE MORALITY --- SCHOOL FOR MYSTICS, BASIC FARE

          Wealth is difficult. All that we spend a lifetime collecting, all this we lose
with age; dying takes everything away.
          But the process of dying is much more painful than it needs to be,
if we have to give up all that we have gained.
           Personal wealth involves personal ego; losing all this
money and high social position can be agony. This is an agony of anger,
rage, humiliation when we are already at our weakest! When we are
sick unto death, who needs to be humiliated also?
           I have seen this and it's not pleasant. Of course, eventually,
when we are really passing on, the angels come. The agony goes,
and we know forgiveness.
            It's better to lose it all when you're still young
and strong or better still to give it away. What do
we really lose except our pride and a false
sense of superiority?
          Wisdom is: when you see the God of all things,
the One who is creating us, that this one is as pure
as anyone ever gets, as courageous as any
warrior can ever be, as clever as the greatest
genius! This holy One already embodies the highest
science. Already is stronger than any strength we
may have.
          At best, our strength is the strength of
Christ, let's say, or the Lord of the Meeting Rivers,
or the Lord of Hosts, or Buddha. And His strength
is greater than ours can be, as a separate ego,
because He knows He is deathless. And She knows
She will always rise again: the all-forgiving Mother.
          I like to say "the One Who Is Creating Us", or
the True One, because this One is beyond sex
and beyond all contradictions. And it's harder to
argue about or be nasty to each other about
this "One".
          Ultimate Wisdom is not so difficult, if you
are willing to give it all away and be One with
this Universal Principle, Who is currently
and forever creating what we are.
            Our egos cannot partake of the deathless
divine. Only our purest self and soul, which 
is really no self at all, but All Spirit, All Soul.
           When you die to your own particularities,
you are free.
             This is not complicated. It is difficult
because of its very simplicity.
               But no one wants to see this "secret" 
truth, because no one wants to die completely.
              The good part is - when your ego dies
completely, then God is born within you. And
you Realize your Ultimate Identity.

               This is Realization; this is Great
Enlightenment, and this is obvious, really.

                Of course, I am using way too many
words. But this is the Simple Morality: we
must give everything away in order to receive
everything.
                 What we give, we receive.

                 If we want to be near what is holy,
we must give everything away, and die to our
egos.

                  For what is holy, never dies. And
the divine is our ultimate Identity.

ROVING REPORTER RANTS: NO GRADES, NO SCHOOL, NOTHING TO CLIMB.

ROVING REPORTER RANTS: NO GRADES, NO SCHOOL, NOTHING TO CLIMB.: I've done just enough meditation to know that the spirit world is real..I can feel various minds and souls touch me at night s...

ROVING REPORTER RANTS: NO GRADES, NO SCHOOL, NOTHING TO CLIMB.

ROVING REPORTER RANTS: NO GRADES, NO SCHOOL, NOTHING TO CLIMB.: I've done just enough meditation to know that the spirit world is real..I can feel various minds and souls touch me at night s...

NO GRADES, NO SCHOOL, NOTHING TO CLIMB.

         I've done just enough meditation to know that the spirit world is real..I can feel various
minds and souls touch me at night sometimes when I'm doing some sitting.
         It is said that the Buddha mind could penetrate walls and reach people far away,
and sometimes several people at once.
          
          I don't pretend to know a lot about meditation (Meditation for the Christians;
zazen for our Buddhist friends). But I do know you must not cling to your thoughts.
Watch them pass through your mind like leaves being washed downriver. And if you are in difficult

situations - losing your wife, or losing your job - or if you are in competition with someone else
over something you both consider valuable. Try to set these dramas aside a bit, and don't
give them any more power than they already have. Let these situations float a bit downriver
also.
         Allow some of these people, or situations, or valuable prizes to remain in the large
window of your mind - but off to the side somewhere. Believe me, you have that power
          Don't think that meditation is difficult; its easy, People avoid it because they think
it's hard work; in fact, it is a great luxury. It's the greatest luxury ever known
to human kind.
          Now the voices will come. The voices and memories and   pictures in you mind of
someone you have loved: maybe that person has passed away, or is lost to you for some reason.
Well, let these loves and bright moments enter  your mind. And take the time to examine
these beloved memories; and do not be ashamed to shed a few tears. We all do. Any macho
person who denies this  is lying.
          Tears are OK. And after a time, maybe after a few days days of communion with
loved ones, you are able to clear your mind. We don't talk of emptying the mind, or forcing
your mind to be silent and absolutely still. It's impossible! The river always flows
inside you. Don't try to stop it. In fact, do not try!
          Don't try to do anything at all. And  don't seek either. What is it that  we lack? What is it that we must seek,  that we do not have within us already?
            What is it  that makes us run back and forth purchasing things?


                                                                  
                                                                   

ROVING REPORTER RANTS: GOD, FOOD, AND THE FEMALE ORGASM: THE SCHOOL OF MYSTICS GRADE 3

ROVING REPORTER RANTS: GOD, FOOD, AND THE FEMALE ORGASM: THE SCHOOL OF MYSTICS GRADE 3

FOOD, AND FERTILITY - ORGASM AND ELECTRICITY - GRADE TWO IN THE SCHOOL FOR MYSTICS

                FOOD AND FERTILITY  - ORGASM AND ELECTRICITY: 


        Just a few references:  

                                                 Wilhelm Reich: orgone energy

                                                  Kundalini: The ancient snake wisdom in sex and yoga

                                                  
                                                   Tesla, the wizard of electricity

                                                   Places of Power

                                                   Food, growing it and eating where you live
                                                               
                                                   God,  your ultimate Identity
                                                                             
                                                                       *
                                                                             
            GRADE TWO  IN THE SCHOOL FOR MYSTICS:

            

            

             

              
                 As we reach higher  grades of Mysticism, there are more things we have to synthesize.
                Just as when you walk out your door in the morning onto, say, 42nd Street,
you see a vast array of apparently different existences: a multitude of men and women,
vehicles and machines. It can be confusing for the student, who wants to run here and
there, chase this and buy that, and eat more of this. But we are students in the School
of Mystics and we are not on holidays, and recess has not been called. Yet. And it is
our Work in this school to see the Unity underlying all things.


                First of all, the problem of Identity. We are all God, but we don't know it yet.
In fact, the entire Universe is God, but this is supposed to be a secret. And its God's
secret, and He has to believe it Himself, or how can He have have any fun? God's
favourite game is "Hide and Seek"and He likes to play it with the Universe.
                We are not actually separate from God. We are part of the Universe. And the Golden Mean and the great spiral in the conch shell and in our DNA are how the Universe unfolds.
And during all this unfolding in all our lives, Mind rides the bronco at the core of the soul.


               We are born with egos and minds, and our parents tell us how special we are
and we are special and all the children are special, and the process of birth and
fertility is the process that makes us all special. And in fact Jehovah was originally
a fertility god, one of the same gods the Bible condemns later.
                In fact, the original Name of God means fertility. But don't believe me on this. I'm not an etymologist.  Read some John Marco Allegro. His site is Allegro.org or something close to that. And he is an etymologist, one of the translators of the Dead Sea Scrolls, and he'll take you back to the wild and wooly world, pre-Greek and pre-Hebrew to the ancient Sumerian, when written language was triangular shapes
stamped in clay, and the Spiritual Realm was seen in the stars. The Sumerian language
is the link between ancient Greek and ancient Hebrew. Many Biblical words and phrases
can now for the first time be understood by understanding the original meaning of the words
in Sumerian.


                 In  the mind of early man, someone had to fructify the space between the empty
furrows  of the field. And whoever did that... moistened the fields with seminal rain... well
He was God. And He is God and so is She, the earth that drinks the warm salty seminal rain
of spring
                  
               Orgone energy comes from being One with the fertility of the earth and the sky.Orgone
enery somehow involves electricity  And a man or a woman who is filled with this energy may easily
come to orgasm  Psychological Liberation  is closely tied to being  physically orgasmic.  
               
                Wilhelm Reich wrote and taught about what he termed, "orgone" energy. He was interested in orgasm and  electricity; also in the electrical reality of the earth and it implications in the making of rain. He was a psychiatrist and attempts were made to discredit him. He was kicked 
out of the American Medical Association (whatever its name was then).

                    Reich's study of the reality he called orgone energy is closely connected to  Tesla's
study of Electricity.
                  Tesla didn't achieve a Doctorate, but  he achieved everything else,  including the discovery of Alternating Current.   So he's a Doctor
in the School For Mystics.  So is the "discredited"  Doctor Reich,  the psychiatric-electrical
sexual Liberation therapist.
                  If you're reading this, you're probably already aware of these people who could have been  our former graduates: Reich, Tesla, and Allegro. And if you're not aware of these heroes, let's make it our homework in Grade Two in the School For Mystics to research them.
                  This is necessary in order to achieve the Synthesis that is our goal. For in order
to graduate in the School Of Mystics it is necessary to attain the ancient realization that is
our goal .This Realization is non-sectarian. It is not the product of any
religion exclusively. But it is the heart and core of all Spiritual Paths.
                    Psychological and sexual liberation are intimately related to this realization
of fundamental reality


                    
                       Just as you ought to live where you want to die, you should be able to
grow and prepare food where you live.
                        It's time for me to learn about cooking and food, maybe visit some
bulk barns.
                         Food is given us by Our God of Fertility.  Food  is given us
so we may also be fertile. The One Who Is Creating Us  gives us fruits and vegetables 
with seeds so that His Seed will continue, and we may live, and our seed in turn will grow.
Seed is at the heart of the spiritual, and the source of what is holy in all different
religions.
                        

                           Lightning strikes the earth. The warm salty rain of spring
inseminates the furrows of the fields. Seed is at the core of  human life, and all
life. There is no more moral issue than this.
                            Food and fertility,  orgasm and  electricity.
For the mystic, One synthesis.

                            Out of this Synthesis,  we see the beginnings of the Morality of Law.

                            Grade Two in the School for Mystics.

                                          


               

ARROGANCE, THE TRICKSTER, AND "DUPPY WALK"

               "If we acknowledge the existence of telepathy, we must be open 
                        to the possibilities of magic."

              

             
               The phrase "elucidate the nature of reality", I find this phrase a little arrogant. Up north here we have the notion of The Trickster God. 
                The existence of this aspect of reality is more than a notion.
                 I was sitting in a roadside bar by the ocean near St. Anne's Bay, Jamaica, one time. This
bar is basically a twelve by twelve tin box, but with a great view of the ocean. (You can feel the spray of the waves when a big one hits.)  About ten of us were sitting there drinking Wray and Nephew full strength over proof white rum. And we were telling stories about duppies. 
A 'duppy' is a ghost in Jamaica and you don't talk about such things unless you are drinking
something strong.
                  Duppies are taken seriously in Jamaica, and you don't usually laugh about such things. Anyway we were laughing, and one guy shouted out: "Truly, man. I've seen shit that'll 
turn you white!"
                   We were laughing then, but we didn't laugh for long. And I noticed, after that subject,
it didn't take long for the bar to clear.
                    Near where I lived when I was a kid, there was a path called "Duppy Walk." People sometimes used it during the day, but you'd rarely ever hear of anyone using the path at night, and during a full moon?  Forget it!  Only one man regularly walked it during the full moon, but he was
considered dangerous and mad. He was a close friend, but you had to watch him.
                     If you played polo against him, he'd charge you with his horse.


                     It's the same with the Trickster God.  Horrible things happen, which I suppose
a god might find funny -  but very few humans are laughing!
                     The sort of thing that happens, a man might be known as excessively tidy and careful about his lawn. Then he comes home one night and his house is on fire.
                      This is a bad example, but you get the idea.


                       Or you brag about how every time you see a black bear, the bear runs away.
And that very night after you go to sleep, a bear enters your tent.


                       So I want to be careful about using phrases like. "Elucidate the nature of reality."
There is consciousness in this universe in places where you'd least expect it.
                       
                          When I get arrogant, things break down. Big things.
Or the northern lights descend around me and do a dance.                       
                         When you're setting out ten points defining the nature of reality,
you'd better leave room for a little magic. Because more than a little magic
exists.


                        You can't cover the whole waterfront in ten points.
                        So much cannot be contained in words.   I guess this is obvious.                                     We cannot rely on words to convey the deeper realities. For example, how do we explain
how consciousness travels before and after death? I have experienced this, but
can I prove it?
                        We know telepathy exists. Most of us have experienced some 
form of it. Can we explain it? Will words ever express such things? It is said,
"Not only is the universe more intricate and vast than we imagine; it may be
more intricate and vast than we can imagine."
                          We can't rely on words. I guess this is why we use music,
chanting and art.
                            It is also said: "Nobody sees the obvious."
                            And since it is nearly Thanksgiving, please permit me to
give thanks for the miracle all around us.
                         
                                                                                                        






 

ROVING REPORTER RANTS: THE ACTUATHE TRUE, ACTUAL NATURE OF REALITY;MISCONCEPTIONS AND MANIPULATIONS

ROVING REPORTER RANTS: THE ACTUATRUE, ACTUAL NATURE OF REALITY;MISCONCEPTIONS AND MANIPULATIONS