The Problem of Evil (original)

Really bad stuff happens, evil stuff. but why?

the Christians like to paint a portrait of God as being: 
-- All-knowing ~ All-powerful ~ All-loving --

Yet bad stuff happens every day...

- If he is really All-Powerful he could stop it. 
- If he is All-Loving he would want to stop it.
- If he is All-Knowing he would know how to stop it.

so how can it be the case that God is omniscient, omnipotent, omnibenevolet (powerful, knowing, loving) while terrible things still happen to us, and other people, all the time?

either:
a) There really is no God 
b) God is evil sometimes 

Answer: B
He is evil in the same way that our Parents used to be evil... 
when they told us "No" when we wanted a new toy sometimes. 
when we went to time-out, or we got spanked when we were bad.

Toys = are the things we want but cannot have.
Timeout = is a moderate inconvenience (to guide us in the right direction).
Spankings = are the painful things that happen in life (physical & emotional).

A good parent (a Good God) teaches right from wrong. Once you learn, all good things happen.

The Wilderness

The average student of the New Testament passes over the event of Jesus in the Wilderness, with little or no emotion, regarding it as a mere incident in His early career. Not so with the mystic or occultist, who knows, from the teachings of his order, that in the Wilderness Jesus was subjected to a severe occult test, designed to develop His power, and test His endurance. In fact, as every advanced member of any of the great occult orders knows, the occult degree known as "The Ordeal of the Wilderness" is based upon this mystic experience of Jesus, and is intended to symbolize the tests to which He was subjected. Let us consider this event so fraught with meaning and importance to all true occultists.

The Wilderness toward which Jesus diverted His steps, law afar off from the river in which the rites of Baptism had been performed. Leaving behind him the fertile banks, and acres, of cultivated land, He approached the terrible Wilderness which even the natives of that part of the country regarded with superstitious horror. It was one of the weirdest and dreariest spots in even that weird and dreary portion of the country. The Jews called it "The Abode of Horror"; "The Desolate Place of Terror"; "The Appalling Region"; and other names suggestive of the superstitious dread which it inspired in their hearts. The Mystery of the Desert Places hung heavy over this place, and none but the stoutest hearts ventured within its precincts. Though akin to the desert, the place abounded in dreary and forbidding hills, crags, ridges or canyons. Those of our readers who have ever traveled across the American continent and have seen some of the desolate places of the American Desert, and who have read of the terrors of Death Valley, or the Alkali Lands, may form an idea of the nature of this Wilderness toward which the Master was traveling.

All normal vegetarian gradually disappeared as He pressed further and further into this terrible place, until naught remained but the scraggy vegetation peculiar to these waste places—those forms of plant life that in their struggle for existence had managed to survive under such adverse conditions as to give the naturalist the impression that the very laws of plant life have been defied and overcome.

Little by little the teeming animal life of the lower lands disappeared, until at last no signs of such life remained, other than the soaring vultures overhead and the occasional serpent and crawling things under foot. The silence of the waste places was upon the traveler, brooding heavily over Him and all around the places upon which He set His foot, descending more heavily upon Him each moment of His advance.

Then came a momentary break in the frightful scene. He passed through the last inhabited spot in the approach to the heart of the Wilderness—the tiny village of Engedi, where were located the ancient limestone reservoirs of water which supplied the lower regions of the territory. The few inhabitants of this remote outpost of primitive civilization gazed in wonder and awe at the lonely figure passing them with unseeing eyes and with gaze seeming able to pierce the forbidding hills which loomed up in the distance hiding lonely recesses into which the foot of man has never trodden, even the boldest of the desert people being deterred from a visit thereto by the weird tales of unholy creatures and unhalllowed things, which made these places the scene of their uncanny meetings and diabolical orgies.

On, and on, pressed the Master, giving but slight heed to the desolate scene which now showed naught but gloomy hills, dark canyons, and bare rocks, relieved only by the occasional bunches of stringy desert grass and weird forms of cacti bristling with the protective spines which is their armor against their enemies.

At last the wanderer reach the summit of one of the higher foot-hills and gazed at the scene spreading itself before Him. And that scene was one that would have affrighted the heart of an ordinary man. Behind Him was the country through which He had passed, which though black and discouraging was as a paradise to the country which lay ahead of Him. There below and behind Him were the caves and rude dwellings of the outlaws and fugitives from justice who had sought the doubtful advantage of security from the laws of man. And far away in the distance were the scenes of John the Baptist's ministry, where He could see in imagination the multitude discussing the advent of the strange Master, who had been vouched for by the Voice, but who had stolen swiftly away from the scene, and had fled the crowds who would have gladly worshipped Him as a Master and have obeyed His slightest command.

Then as the darkness of the succeeding nights fell upon Him, He would sleep on some wild mountain cliff, on the edge of some mighty precipice, the sides of which dropped down a thousand feet or more. But these things disturbed Him not. On and on He pressed at the appearance of each dawn. Without food He boldly moved forward to the Heart of the Hills, where the Spirit guided Him to the scene of some great spiritual struggle which He intuitively knew law before Him.

The Words of the Voice haunted Him still, though He lacked a full understanding of them, for He had not yet unfolded the utmost recesses of His Spiritual Mind. "This is my Beloved Son, in whom I am well pleased"—what meant these words? And still, no answer came to that cry of His soul which sought in vain for a freeing of that riddle.

And still on and on He pressed, until at last He mounted the steep sides of the barren forbidding mountain of Quarantana, beyond which He felt that His struggle was to begin. No food was to be found—He must fight the battle unaided bu the material sustenance that ordinary men find necessary for life and strength. And still He had not received the answer to the cry of His soul. The rocks beneath His feet—the blue sky above His head—the lofty peaks of Moab and Gilead in the distance—gave no answer to the fierce insistent desire for the answer to the Riddle of the Voice. The answer must come form Within, and from Himself only. And in the Heart of the Wilderness He must remain, without food, without shelter, without human companionship, until the Answer came. And as it was with the Master, so it is with the follower—all who attain the point of unfoldment at which the Answer is alone possible, must experience that awful feeling of "aloneness" and spiritual hunger, and frightful remoteness from all that the world values, before the Answer comes form Within—from the Holy of Holies of the Spirit.

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To realize the nature of the spiritual struggle that awaited Jesus in the Wilderness—that struggle that would bring Him face to face with His own soul. we must understand the Jewish longing and expectation of the Messiah. The Messianic traditions had taken a strong hold upon the minds of the Jewish people, and it needed but the spark of a strong personality to set all Israel into a blaze which would burn fiercely and destroy the foreign influences which have smothered the national spirit. The idea of a Messiah springing from the lions of David, and coming to take His rightful place as the King of the Jews, was imbedded in the heart of every Jew worthy of the name. Israel was oppressed by its conquerors, and made the subject to a foreign yoke, but when the Messiah would come to deliver Israel, every Jew would arise to drive out the foreign invaders and conquerors—the yoke of Rome would be thrown off, and Israel would once more take its place among the nations of the earth.

Jesus knew full well the fact of this national hope. It had been installed into His mind from childhood. He had pondered over it often during the time of His wanderings and sojourn in foreign lands. The occult legends, however, make no mention of His having ever thought of Himself as the Messiah until He was about to re-enter His own land after His years of foreign study and ministry. It is thought that the idea of His being the long expected Messiah was first suggested by some of the Essenic teachers, when He rested with them for awhile before appearing before John the Baptist. It was pointed out to Him that the marvelous events surrounding His birth indicated that He was a marked individual destined to play an important part in the history of the World. Then why was it not reasonable to believe that that role was to be that of the Messiah come to sit on the throne of His father David, and destined to bring Israel form her now obscure position to once more shine as a bright star in the firmament of nations? Why was it not reasonable that He was to lead the Chosen People to their own?

Jesus began to ponder over these things. He had absolutely no material ambitions for Himself and all His impulses and inclinations were for the life of an occult ascetic. But the idea of a redeemed and regenerated Israel was one calculated to fire the blood of any Jew, even though the element of personal ambition might be lacking in him.

He always realized that in some way He was different from other men, and that some great work lay ahead of Him, but He had never understood His own nature, nor the work He was to do. And it is not to be wondered that the talk among the Essenes caused Him to ponder carefully over the idea expressed by them. And then the wonderful event of the dove, and the Voice, upon the occasion of His baptism, seemed almost to verify the idea of the Essenes. Was He indeed the long-expected Deliverer of Israel? Surely He must find this out—He must wring the answer from the inmost recesses of His soul. And so, He sought refuge in the Wilderness, intuitively feeling that there amidst the solitude and desolation, He would fight His fight and receive His answer.

He felt that He had come to a most important phase of His life's work, and the question of "What Am I?" must be settled, once and for all,—then and there. And so He left behind Him the admiring and worshipful crowds of John's following, and sought the solitude of the waste places of the Wilderness, in which He felt He would come face to face with His own soul, and demand and receive its answer.

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And up in the inmost recesses of the Heart of the Wilderness, Jesus wrestled in spirit with Himself for many days, without food or nourishment, and without shelter. And the struggle was terrific—worthy of such a great soul. First the body's insistent needs were to be fought and mastered. It was related that the climax of the physical struggle came one day when the Instinctive Mind, which attends to the physical functions, made a desperate and final demand upon Him. It cried aloud for bread with all the force of its nature. It tempted Him with the fact that bu His own occult powers He was able to convert the very stones into bread, and it demanded that He work the miracle  for His own physical needs—a practice deemed most unworthy by all true occultists and mystics. "Turn this stone into bread, and eat" cried the voice of the Tempter. But Jesus resisted the temptation although He knew that by the power of His concentrated thought He had but first to mentally picture the stone as bread and then will that it be so materialized. The miraculous power which afterward turned water into wine, and which was again used to feed the multitude with the loaves and the fishes, was available to Him at that moment in order to satisfy the cravings of His body, and to break His fast.

None but the advanced occultist who has known what it was to be tempted to use his mysterious powers to satisfy his personal wants, can appreciate the nature of struggle through which Jesus passes, and from which He emerged victorious. And like the occult Master that He was, He summoned His Inner Forces and beat off the Tempter.

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But a still greater temptation than this arose to try Him to the utmost. He found Himself brought face to face with the idea of Messiahship, and Kingship of the Jews, of which we spoke. Was He the Messiah? And if so, what must be His course of life and action? Was He destined to throw aside the robe and staff of the ascetic, and to don the royal purple and the scepter? Was He to forsake the role of the spiritual guide and teacher, and to become the King and Ruler over the people of Israel? These were the questions He asked His soul, and for which He demanded an answer.

And the mystic legends tell us that His Spirit answered by showing Him two sets of mental pictures, with the assurance that He could choose either, at will, and cause it to become realized.

The first picture showed Him true to His spiritual instincts, and loyal to His mission, but which rendered Him indeed the "Man of Sorrows." He saw Himself continuing to sow the seeds of Truth, which would, centuries after, spring up. blossom and bear fruit to nourish the world, but which would now bring down upon His head the hatred and persecution of those in power and authority. And He saw each successive step, each showing the approach of the end, until at last He saw Himself crowded with thorns and meeting the death of a criminal on the cross, between two base criminals of the lowest classes of men. All this He saw and even His brave heart felt a deadly sickness at the ignominious end of it all—the apparent failure of His earthly mission. But it is related that some of the mighty intelligences which dwell upon the higher planes of existence, gathered around Him, and gave Him words of encouragement and hope and resolve. He found Himself literally id the midst of the Heavenly Host, and receiving the inspiration of its presence.

Then this picture—and the Host of Invisible Helpers—faded away, and the second picture began to appear before the vision of the lonely dweller of the Wilderness. He saw the picture of Himself descending the mountain, and announcing Himself as the Messiah—King of the Jews—who had come to lead His Chosen People to victory and deliverance. He saw Himself acclaimed as the Promised One of Israel, and the multitude flocking to His banners. He saw Himself at the head of a great conquering army, marching toward Jerusalem. He saw Himself making use of His highly developed occult powers to read the minds of the enemy and thus know their every movement and intention, and the means to overcome them. He saw Himself miraculously arming and feeding His hosts of battle. He saw Himself smiting the enemy with His occult powers and forces. He saw the yoke of Rome being cast off, and its phalanxes fleeing across the borders in terror and disgraceful defeat. He saw Himself mounting the throne of David, His forefather. He saw Himself instituting a reign of the highest type, which would make of Israel the leading nation of the world. He saw Israel's sphere of influence extending in all directions, until Persia, Egypt, Greece and even the once-feared Rome, became tributary nations. He saw Himself in the triumphant chariot on some great feast day of victory, with Caesar himself tied to the tail of His chariot—a slave to Israel's King. He saw His royal court outrivaling that of Solomon, and becoming the center of the world. He saw Jerusalem as the capital of the world, and He, Jesus of Nazareth, son of David the King, as its Ruler, its hero, its demi-god. The very apothesis of human success showed in the picture of Himself and His beloved Israel in the picture.

And then the Temple was seen to be the Center of the Religious thought of the World. The Religion of the Jews, as modified by His own advanced views, would be the religion of all men. And He would be the favored mouthpiece of the God of Israel. All the dreams of the Hebrew Fathers would be realized in Him, the Messiah of the New Israel whose capital would be Jerusalem, the Queen of the World.

And all this by simply the exercise of his occult powers under the direction of HIS WILL. It is related that accompanying this second picture and attracted by its mighty power, came all the great thought-waves of the world which had been thought by men of all times who thought and aced out the Dreams of Power. These clouds settled down upon Him like a heavy fog, and their vibrations were almost overpowering. And also came the hosts of the disembodied souls of those who while living had sought or gained power. And each strove to bear into His brain the Desire of Power. Never in the history of man have the Powers of Darkness so gathered together for attack upon the mind of a mortal man. Would it have been any wonder had even such a man as Jesus succumbed?

But He did not succumb. Rallying His Inner Force to His rescue He beat back the attacking horde, and by an effort of His Will, He swept both picture and tempters away into oblivion, crying indignantly "Thou darest to tempt even me, thy Lord and Master. Get thee behind me thou Fiends of Darkness"!

And so the Temptation of the Wilderness failed, and Jesus received His answer from His soul, and He descended the mountains, back to the haunts of men—back to the scene of His three years' labor and suffering, and back to His Death. And He knew full well all that awaited Him there, for had not seen the First Picture?

Jesus had chosen His career.

The Accolade of Accolades

Like unto a beautiful woman hidden in the interior of a palace who, when her friend and beloved passes by, opens for a moment a secret widow, and is only seen by him; then again retires and disappears for a long time; so the doctrine shows herself only to the elect, but also not even to these always in the same manner. In the beginning, deeply veiled, she only beckos to the one passing, with her hand; it simply depends [on himself] if in his understanding he perceives this gentle hint. Later she approaches him somewhat nearer, and whispers to him a few words, but her countenance is still hidden in the thick veil, which his glances cannot penetrate. Still later she converses with him, her countenance covered with a thinner veil. After he has accustomed himself to her society, she finally shows herself to him face to face, and entrusts him with the innermost secrets of her heart. [Sod]

Khalil Gibran

You ask me how I became a madman. It happened thus: One day, long before many gods were born, I woke from a deep sleep and found all my masks were stolen -- the seven masks I have fashioned and worn in seven lives. I ran maskless through the crowded streets shouting, "Thieves, thieves, the cursed thieves."

Men and women laughed at me and ran to their houses in fear.

And when I reached the market place, a youth standing on a house-top cried, "He is a madman." I looked up to behold him; the sun kissed my own naked face for the first time. For the first time the sun kissed my own naked face and my soul was inflamed with love for the sun, and I wanted my masks no more. And as if in a trance I cried, "Blessed, blessed are the thieves who stole my masks."

Thus I became a madman.

Defeat, my Defeat, my solitude and my aloofness;
You are dearer to me than a thousand triumphs,
And sweeter to my heart than all world-glory.

Defeat, my Defeat, my self-knowledge and my defiance,
Through you I know that I am yet young and swift of foot
And not to be trapped by withering laurels.
And in you I have found aloneness
And the joy of being shunned and scorned.

Defeat, my Defeat, my shining sword and shield,
In your eyes I have read
That to be enthroned is to be enslaved,
And to be understood is to be leveled down,
And to be grasped is but to reach one's fullness
And like a ripe fruit to fall and be consumed.

Defeat, my Defeat, my bold companion,
You shall hear my songs and my cries and my silences,
And none but you shall speak to me of the beating of wings,
And urging of seas,
And of mountains that burn in the night,
And you alone shall climb my steep and rocky soul.

Defeat, my Defeat, my deathless courage,
You and I shall laugh together with the storm,
And together we shall dig graves for all that die in us,
And we shall stand in the sun with a will,
And we shall be dangerous.

The "I" in me, my friend, dwells in the house of silence, and therein it shall remain for ever more, unperceived, unapproachable.

I would not have you believe in what I say nor trust in what I do -- for my words are naught but your own thoughts in sound and my deeds your own hopes in action.

When you say, "The wind blows eastward," I say, "Yes, it does blow eastward"; for I would not have you know that my mind does not dwell upon the wind but upon the sea. You cannot understand my seafaring thoughts, nor would I have you understand. I would be at sea alone.

When it is day with you, my friend, it is night with me; yet even then I speak of the noontide that dances upon the hills and of the purple shadow that steals its way across the valley; for you cannot hear the songs of my darkness nor see my wings beating against the stars -- and I fain would not have you hear or see. I would be with night alone.

When you ascend to your Heaven I descend to my Hell -- even then you call to me across the unbridgeable gulf, "My companion, my comrade," and I call back to you, "My comrade, my companion" -- for I would not have you see my Hell. The flame would burn your eyesight and the smoke would crowd your nostrils. And I love my Hell too well to have you visit it. I would be in Hell alone.

You love Truth and Beauty and Righteousness; and I for your sake say it is well and seemly to love these things. But in my heart I laugh at your love. Yet I would not have you see my laughter. I would laugh alone.

My friend, you are good and cautious and wise; no, you are perfect -- and I, too, speak with you wisely and cautiously. And yet I am mad. But I mask my madness. I would be mad alone.

My friend, you are not my friend, but how shall I make you understand? My path is not your path, yet together we walk, hand in hand.

The Hour of Man

I want to see the radio or television turned off for an hour a week, the paper or magazine laid aside, the car locked safely in the garage, the bridge table folded, the liquor bottle corked, and the sedatives kept tightly in their packages. I want to see production and consumption forgotten for this hour. Politics must be forgotten, national or international. The hour that I propose could be called The Hour of Man. During this hour, man could ask himself and his neighbor just what purpose they are serving on earth, what life is, what a man or woman can rightly ask of life as well as what they must give in return. If that man is working and struggling for what he really wants, is it worth the price he pays in personal suffering? Neighbors should learn to listen intently to neighbors. In only that way will the eye turn inward. In other people's souls they could see the undistorted image of their own souls. As they helped others they would help themselves.

- Walker Winslow

From a possible future.

Is a state of affairs unthinkable in which the malefactor calls himself to account and publicly dictates his own punishment, in the proud feeling that he is thus honoring the law which he himself has made, that by punishing himself he is exercising his power, the power of the lawgiver [...] Such would be the criminal of a possible future, who, to be sure, also presupposes a future lawgiving - one founded on the idea 'I submit only to the law which I myself have given, in great things and small.'

Daybreak 187

The Bodhisattva Issa

And, now, what are the Occult Teachings--the Secret Doctine--regarding the Real Virgin Birth of Jesus? Just this: that the Spirit of Jesus was fresh from the bosom of the Absolute--Spirit of SPIRIT--a Virgin Birth of Spirit. His Spirit had not yet traveled the weary upward path of Reincarnation and repeated Rebirth, but was Virgin Spirit fresh from the SPIRIT--a very Son of the Father--begotten not created. This Virigin Spirit was incarnated in His body, and there began the life of Man, not fully aware of His own nature, but gradually awakening into knowledge just as does every human soul, until at last the true nature of His Being burst upon him, and he saw that he indeed was God incarnate. In his short life of thirty-three years--thirty years of preperation, and three years of ministry, Jesus typified and symbolized the Life of the Race. Just as he awakened into a perception of his Divine Nature, so shall the race awaken in time. Every act in the Life of Jesus typified and symbolized the life of every individual soul, and of the race. We all have our Garden of Gethsemene--each is Crucified, and Ascends to Higher Planes. This is the Occult Doctrine of the Virgin Birth of Christ. Is it not a worthy one--is it not at least a higher conception of the human mind, than the physical Virgin Birth legend?

Spiritual Nature vs. Human Nature

Human nature is deceitful, it  continually claims it is good. But it always seeks its own gain as the purpose and result of its work, and it sees much gain can come from others. It rejoices at worldly gain and is depressed by worldly loss. It is greedy, it wants possessions and to take inventory of its property.

Spiritual nature has no pretense. It does all things for God. It is indifferent toward the world of the senses and craves contact with the Spirit influences within. It submits itself to a holy mental discipline. It does not desire to have dominion over any creature. It is always ready, for the love of God, to bow humbly before any creature. It accepts a humble estate. It does not want more temporal good than is necessary to win eternal life.

Human nature won’t easily die, be subjected, suppressed, or guided. It loves idleness and bodily rest. It is very frail. It fears rebuke and to be loathed. It is soon shaken by a sharp word. It loves the flesh, vanity, and the novelties of the world. It desires pleasant and unusual things. It gladly beholds the great things of the world. 

Spiritual nature beholds everlasting things. It doesn’t trust worldly things and is not troubled by the loss of them. It is not grieved by harsh words. It has invested itself in spiritual things that do not perish. It is content with little. It is sympathetic and generous to the poor, innocent, and less-fortunate. It draws mankind to the love of Good, virtue, and delights in goodness.

Human nature desires praise and that its accomplishments be admired and well-known. It loves many friends and the flattery from a high birth and noble blood. It seeks to be distinguished and to be associated with distinguished people.

Spiritual nature doesn’t care for the vain praise of the world. It regards family birth as meaningless considering that we can all become God’s children. It doesn’t desire that its own virtue and devotion be known, but that the infinite love of God be known. It regards itself as nothing, but renders all to God, the source of everything it is.

Human nature promptly complains for the lack of every little thing it wants or any little worldly grief. It judges every little act and word of all it encounters and criticizes most of it, to make itself seem superior. It secretly delights in the short-comings of others and finds pleasure in resentment. 

Spiritual nature rejoices in truth, and in the growth of virtue and goodness. It doesn’t regard its own opinion as preferable, but submits to righteous divine judgment. It knows that the greatest pleasures come from discovering eternal realities that make sensual pleasures meaningless and foolish by comparison. The Spiritual nature is a gift from God that lives inside our souls and seeks to influence our thoughts. 

Human nature loves secrets and craves experiences of the world of outward senses. It worries incessantly, and looks for new things to worry about. It is always curious about the future as if knowing it would stop the worrying.

Spiritual nature trusts in God in all things, it finds nothing to worry about. The Spiritual nature doesn’t know how to worry.

Human nature argues and strives for itself. It refuses to be treated unfairly. It will fight for its rights. It will not spare anyone’s feelings.

Spiritual nature submits to the righteous judgment of God and is unconcerned by unfair worldly treatment because it knows something of the glories of spiritual reality. It endures all for Good. It will gladly suffer anything for the sake of love. 

There are no shortcuts. We must win this inner struggle between our human and spiritual natures. 

Spiritual nature is so vitally necessary to the health of the soul.

Human nature poisons the soul.

Spiritual nature allows us to resist becoming slaves to human nature.

Human nature is the strong force; 

Spiritual nature is the weak force. Yet reflective human reason can see the validity of spiritual nature; it can see the difference between good and evil, truth and falsehood.

There is nothing wrong with humans being human beings as long as we strive for the more noble reactions of the Spiritual nature.

Who are you? Both. You are the parent and the child, teacher and student, doctor and patient. “Physician heal thyself.”

Spiritual nature is with us, it is our strength, our counsel and help. It is ultimately stronger than all enemies, wiser than the wisest, the master of truth, the teacher of discipline, the light of the heart, the comfort of trouble, the banisher of desolation, the avoider of dread, the nourisher of devotion, and the bearer of sweet tears. It goes before us and follows us. It is the Way that cannot be made foul, the Truth that cannot be deceived, and the Life that cannot end.

http://www.arrowstone.org/spiritual-nature.html

A Time (Judaism & Taoism)

There is a time for everything,

   and a season for every activity under the heavens:

a time to be born and a time to die,

   a time to plant and a time to uproot,

a time to kill and a time to heal,

   a time to tear down and a time to build,

a time to weep and a time to laugh,

   a time to mourn and a time to dance,

a time to scatter stones and a time to gather them,

   a time to embrace and a time to refrain from embracing,

a time to search and a time to give up,

   a time to keep and a time to throw away,

a time to tear and a time to mend,

   a time to be silent and a time to speak,

a time to love and a time to hate,

   a time for war and a time for peace.

- Ecclesiastes 3

There is a time for being ahead,

a time for being behind;

a time for being in motion,

a time for being at rest;

a time for being vigorous,

a time for being exhausted;

a time for being safe,

a time for being in danger.

- Tao Te Ching (Verse 29)

Wittgenstein

"A sure characteristic of religious statements is that their mistakes are too big simply to be called errors. Being incalculable blunders, one is driven to ask if they may not have their own kind of meaning. As Wittgenstein notes, if I said 22 + 22 = 45  an observer would respond, "He is in error." But if I said 22 + 22 = 3,000,000 the observer would either think me crazy or working within a system of meaning he did not grasp. Many religious statements are of that sort; they are too wild simply to be called errors. They either are incalculable blunders, or they contain a special sort of meaning."

The Perfected Person: Chuang-Tzu and Intra-Worldly Mysticism

Letter To A Friend (original)

Even in this down time, I love life. I am thankful for this experience, that I might share it with others, in the hopes that they might somehow benefit. Life is not always as bad as it seems—take this moment for instance: I am homeless, and yet, I am happy. It is true what they say—the right company is worth more than anything in the world—this is the point, this is the reason, this is the purpose, for why we are here (and find ourselves separated in the world): that we might come to know one another, live with one another, understand one another, and love one another. And yet I am sad, because we all lie to ourselves (and thus, to the world), we compare ourselves (when we need not), and judge each other (even without knowing it).

I listen to the sounds of the night, and I am at peace... and yet, there is turmoil—inner struggle. To end this struggle, is to end suffering, is to become a Buddha. I love life, so much; I will miss it when it's gone.

I love to think, more than anything else in the world. Music is like thinking—"when it hits you, you feel no pain."—only joy, only bliss, only a moment of hope that maybe, just maybe, everything is exactly the way it is supposed to be.

Change is hard, but it will come. And so will your acceptance of it.

Some mystics believe free-writing is a way to "listen to 'God'"; they say poetry is a personal act of self-revelation. What is deep in your mind will come out, and what you were previously unaware of, comes to the surface threw your pen. Of course this means we've all talked to God, and we simply didn't know it (who it was). "I find it healthy to conversate with myself" ("Self Conscience" - Mobb Deep). This is Prayer: when you listen (to ''yourself''), but do not speak (as ''yourself''). That is, you tap into the unconscious. Deep in that unconscious, is God (or at least, His Voice). Perhaps 'Buddha' (meaning "Awakened One"), means being fully conscious of your unconscious, and therefore, also means being in constant contact with God. This means, when people speak as God (to themselves), they really are speaking on behalf of God. What one person says as God, may only apply to that one particular person (or perhaps multitudes)—but so long as what is said comes from "The Deep" (the unconscious), it is true. This is not what Genesis talks about, but it can be. It was originally an Egyptian description of the sunrise, and the beginning of the day, til the end of night. But as patterns emerge in nature, so may patterns in thinking, and in being. Thinking and Being are intimately close. ("As a man thinketh, so is he").

This is the Law of Attraction: you attract both consciously, and unconsciously (this is why it sometimes appears not to work—or even to work against you). The unconscious mind is much stronger and deeper—it is primal, and predominately rules us—but only until we bring those unconscious thoughts into the light (make them conscious); then, we regain control: we control our being, our experience, our effect on the world. Thus, when we become awakened, God becomes real into the world. "WE" (here, meaning "God") are born... (again).

I have heard someone say, "I have beaten yoga" (the exercise), as though it were some type of game. I would like to beat my "ego", or "self". As a result of this, it may appear to be the case that I am experiencing delusions of grandeur ("ambition, quite often, may be confused with arrogance"). I believe myself exceptional, though not anymore than anyone else could be.

Was Jesus not delusional? Was not Buddha? "Life without suffering, you say?! Impossible!", you say, "No one can be at ease with everything! Life and Death and you take them the same... you, 'Resist Not Evil'?"

This is why I love life—it is a big mystery. "I can sit, I can think, I can fast."—this was the homage to the Buddha, Siddhartha (Hesse). I took this book to heart. Within a year of converting to Buddhism in high-school, we were required to read "Siddhartha". Perhaps, a genuine searching and questioning (without fear of reprisal) brought this about—or, perhaps not. It told me that I was blind to the world, that I am the same as the world, and therefor I do not know myself.

This is spirituality: none other than, getting to know yourself. This is getting to know that "I am who I am". Some have spoken as this "I am", and this is why the two were one. Anyone can do this. When, in the moment, our thoughts are unified ("Hey, I was just thinking that!"), we were occupying the same identical "space"; and therefore, for a moment, a very brief moment, we have shared the same "identity". These moments are precious, and can sometimes even be eerie. This is "holiness" (the "Numinous").

This will sound strange but I wish I could live in the forest, secluded, as a hermit (just for a time)—that is, I would like to go camping. I want to do what they said the Yogis would do. I want to know what pilgrimage feels like; to hitchhike, maybe home, to California.

I love my friends, though I do not always feel they reciprocate; and I dislike the part of myself that thinks I am better than them for that. I see hypocrisy, and I need help ridding myself of it... we all do. This is why, for me, nothing goes unchecked, but everything is always forgiven. Really, its always in everyone's best interest to always forgive all things. Forgive betrayal—it is good for the soul, and strengthens the bond. Therefore, it is good that such a thing as betrayal exists. Hooray for betrayal! It is good to be alive. Pray that you find yourself betrayed by the world—all of it, everyone at all. In your "alone-ness" (different from "loneliness") you come to know exactly who you are—and you come to know "God" (which is also always interchangeable with "universe"). You keep this alone-ness with you, and you can use it whenever. As in, "standing alone in a crowd" (which has a triple meaning). This is where you meet "I am"—and so Moses went to meditate alone, on the mountain, and Jesus went to meditate alone, in the garden, and Muhammad went to meditate, on the mountain. Blessed are we that come in the name of Love, for we appear in the image of God, and are called his Sons (see Genesis). And has there ever been love without peace? (or at least as its goal in every form) "Blessed are the peacemakers, they shall be called god's children." Sadly, it is possible to aim at peace, and arrive at war.

How to fix this? LISTEN to each other; and when your mind is quiet enough, you can listen to yourselves, and finally, you will be able to hear God. Prayer is listening, and nothing else. If you are the one doing the 'talking' (thinking), you are doing it wrong. This is also meditation. Meditation is watching for the thoughts, Prayer is listening to your thoughts.

The patterns of life are a glorious symphony—we are all audience members of the greatest show on earth, "The World".

I want a small home in a quiet area (but hell, I love the city too). I want a meager, nearly meaningless job, just for now (but I would be a fire fighter, or a professor). Oh, to pull that trigger and know ego death - "Happiness is a warm gun", and life begins when your world is shattered.

I love being eccentric. I call this "original", "distinguished". I call the rest posers—trying to fool themselves more than anyone else. Maybe this is what I'm doing—If so, I love to play the fool.

"I just believe in me—and that's reality". This is like playing connect the dots in an "infinite game". And so they say, "He who knows himself, knows God." Don't you remember we told ourselves "we are gods"? (Psalm 82). Therefore, based on the assumption "you are gods", I and everyone else, can be logically sound, and theologically justified, in making such a statement. Its really quite simple, and yet it seems so radical to do so. Perhaps because so many lunatics do it and so when we hear it we switch onto autopilot and tune it out, "Oh yeah, you're God? And I'm the muffin man." It's the crazy ones we should listen to... to see just how crazy they are... or we are. For this reason the queen shaman told the western soldier "we shall see if we can rid you of your insanity." It seems if everyone is crazy, then no one is. and if none are, then we all are. If I am, I must tell you, its so much fun! Whatever this is, there is nothing better. May I please live this way forever? Right now, there is no suffering, only fun. It's just plain fun. Hooray for this opportunity to be alone with myself, and also the opportunity to share what I have discovered with others. Joy to the world! I truly love you all. This will sound nuts, but I sometimes envision myself surrounded by light, glowing as well, with my face in the clouds, looking down and smiling on everyone with sunshine sun rays. I cannot say if this is Heaven, but I know I am no one other than myself. But I feel this is my ultimate goal. My "self" defeat (ego death). "It is better to conquer yourself than the entire world" (Buddha).

Why can't we tell the truth? Why can't we be more open? Are we afraid? There is nothing to be afraid of. Why fear your mother? She loves you... even when she doesn't (stole that line from "californication").

And yet I know I am not worthy of this bliss. I am pride and shame at once. I am the glory of the Lord, and yet, I have no majesty. I am powerless and weak, and yet I am stupendous. Justify yourself and your life, even if only to yourself. I am nothing, perfect freedom. I am poetry, perfect bliss. I am the sun, the moon, and the stars, all in a perfect kiss. But I have yellow eyes, and I cannot see them well in the light. You need the darkness to see who I am—as we all do. We need pain and suffering. Life is "Sublime"—beautiful and dangerous at the same time. I have committed violence against my fellow man and I would be put to shame. I have not yet paid off this debt. I am gambling—gather round, and place your bets. I am a risk taker of the highest caliber, and yet I am scared shit-less. Brilliant. I love it. "Do not go gentle into that good night!", and yet, "To die would be an awfully big adventure" (Peter Pan). Interesting how Shakespeare refers to it as a "good" night, isn't it? Perhaps, and this is the most important, there is no such thing as death (Yet, I don't mean to say I will live forever). Just, there is no perfect darkness—there is no absolute zero (degrees Kelvin)—there is no perfect stillness, there is always motion, there is always life (you might even say motion is eternal). And for this reason Heraclitus said the world is made of fire—it is alive!

Ha! I wanted to be homeless (Samana) and now I am! Thank you for answering my prayers! Henry David Thoreau, and the Hindu Yogis, as well as the author of Conversations With God, and the character in Fight Club... they were all homeless, or lived in the wilderness.

I address my own sanity, because this is the most sane thing to do. Period. I speak with authority because I have yet to be proven wrong (but will yield the moment it happens). What better way to guarantee you are right than to make sure you are not wrong? Apologies. My mind is moving to fast for my pen to catch, so I can only use an aphoristic style for now. Rest assure a ton of explanation has been left out, but I will give you my best.

When you beg someone to let you do a favor for them, that is the beginning of "Resist Not", especially if that favor comes at a great expense to yourself.

A man needs only seven friends, seven families.

I am ashamed to have stolen—this is a debt I cannot repay. Yet I will attempt to, by freely offering anything I own to anyone anytime. This is why I am writing. This is all I own and I give it all to you.

To believe in evil—to perceive evil—requires a most arrogant perspective. It is a high requirement to perceive it. But is it evil for fire to burn? For virus to disease? To hunt? To consume? This has been the way of the world since the beginning, and we have foolish pride to call it violence? Ah-ha! I do not have delusions of grandeur (as I do not think myself any better than others can be), I am an enthusiast of the highest caliber! Thus we literally are the children of the Most High. We really did "Become like God" Yet we are not God, and therefore we fell infinitely short.

"Break on through to the other side" 

Siddhartha (Herman Hesse)

Siddhartha said: "You know, my friend, that even as a young man, when we lived with the ascetics in the forest, I came to distrust doctrines and teachers and to turn my back on them. I am still of the same turn of mind, although I have, since that time, had many teachers. A beautiful courtesan was my teacher for a long time, and a rich merchant and a dice player. On one occasion, one of the Buddha's wandering monks was my teacher. He halted in his pilgrimage to sit beside me when I fell asleep in the forest. I also learned from him and I am grateful to him, very grateful. But most of all, I have learned from this river and from my predecessor, Vasudeva. He was a simple man; he was not a thinker, but he realized the essential as well as Gotama. He was a holy man, a saint."

Govinda said: "It seems to me, Siddhartha, that you still like to jest a little. I believe you and know that you have not followed any teacher, but have you not yourself, if not a doctrine, certain thoughts? Have you not discovered certain knowledge yourself that has helped you to live? It would give me great pleasure if you would tell me something about this."

Siddhartha said: "Yes, I have had thoughts and knowledge here and there. Sometimes, for an hour or for a day, I have become aware of knowledge, just as one feels life in one's heart. I have had many thoughts, but it would be difficult for me to tell you about them. But this is one thought that has impressed me, Govinda. Wisdom is not communicable. The wisdom which a wise man tries to communicate always sounds foolish."

"Are you jesting?" asked Govinda.

"No, I am telling you what I have discovered. Knowledge can be communicated, but not wisdom. One can find it, live it, be fortified by it, do wonders through it, but one cannot communicate and teach it. I suspected this when I was still a youth and it was this that drove me away from teachers.

There is one thought I have have, Govinda, which you will again think is a jest or folly: that is, in every truth the opposite is equally true. For example, a truth can only be expressed and enveloped in words if it is one-sided. Everything that is thought and expressed in words is one-sided, only half the truth; it all lacks totality, completeness, unity. 

When the illustrious Buddha taught about the world, he had to divide it into Samsara and Nirvana, into illusion and truth, into suffering and salvation. One cannot do otherwise, there is no other method for those who teach. But the world itself, being in and around us, is never one-sided. Never is a man or a deed wholly Samsara or wholly Nirvana; never is a man wholly a saint or a sinner. This only seems to be so because we suffer the illusion that time is something real. Time is not real, Govinda. I have realized this repeatedly. And if time is not real, then the dividing line that seems to lie between this world and eternity, between suffering and bliss, between good and evil, is also an illusion."

"How is that?" asked Govinda, puzzled.

"Listen, my friend! I am a sinner and you are a sinner, but someday the sinner will be Brahma again, will someday attain Nirvana, will someday become a Buddha. Now this 'someday' is an illusion; it is only a comparison. The sinner is not on the way to a Buddha-like state; he is not evolving, although our thinking cannot conceive things otherwise. No, the potential Buddha already exists in the sinner; his future is already there. The potential hidden Buddha must be recognized in him, in you, in everybody. 

The world, Govinda, is not imperfect or slowly evolving along a path to perfection. No, it is perfect at every moment; every sin already carries grace within it, all small children are potential old men, all sucklings have death within them, all dying people―eternal life. It is not possible for one person to see how far another is on the way; the Buddha exists in the robber and the dice player; the robber exists in the Brahmin. 

During deep meditation it is possible to dispel time, to see simultaneously all the past, present and future, and then everything is good, everything is perfect, everything is Brahman. Therefore, it seems to me that everything that exists is good―death as well as life; sin as well as holiness, wisdom as well as folly. Everything is necessary, everything needs only my agreement, my assent, my loving understanding; then all is well with me and nothing can harm me. 

I learned through my body and soul that it was necessary for me to sin, that I needed lust, that I had to strive for property and experience nausea and the depths of despair in order to learn not to resist them, in order to learn to love the world, and no longer compare it with some kind of desired imaginary world, some imaginary vision of perfection, but to leave it as it is, to love it and be glad to belong to it. These, Govinda, are some of the thoughts that are in my mind."

Siddhartha bent down, lifted a stone from the ground and held it in his hand.

"This." he said, handling it, "is a stone, and within a certain length of time it will perhaps be soil and from the soil it will become plant, animal or man. Previously I should have said: This stone is just a stone; it has no value, it belongs to the world of Maya, but perhaps because within the cycle of change it can also become man and spirit, it is also of importance. That is what I should have thought.

But now I think: This stone is a stone; it is also animal, God and Buddha. I do not respect and love it because it was one thing and will become something else, but because it has already long been everything and always is everything. I love it just because it is a stone, because today and now it appears to me a stone. I see value and meaning in each one of its fine markings and cavities, in the yellow, in the gray, in the hardness and the sound of it when I knock it, in the dryness or dampness of its surface. There are stones that feel like oil or soap, that look like leaves or sand, and each one is different and worships Om in its own way; each one is Brahman. At the same time it is very much stone, oily or soapy, and that is just what pleases me and seems wonderful and worthy of worship.

But I will say no more about it. Words do not express thoughts very well. They always become a little distorted, a little foolish. And yet it also pleases me and seems right that what is of value and wisdom to one man seems nonsense to another."

Govinda had listened in silence.

"Why did you tell me about the stone?" he asked hesitatingly after a pause.

"I did so unintentionally. But perhaps it illustrates that I just love the stone and the river and all these things that we see and from which we can learn. I can love a stone, Gonvinda, and a tree or a piece of bark. These are things and one can love things. But one cannot love words. Therefore teachings are of no use to me; they have no hardness, no softness, nor colors, no corners, no smell, no taste―they have nothing but words. Perhaps that is what prevents you from finding peace, perhaps there are too many words, for even salvation and virtue. Samsara and Nirvana are only words, Govinda. Nirvana is not a thing; there is only the word Nirvana."

Govinda said: "Nirvana is not only a word, my friend; it is a thought."

Siddhartha continued: "It may be a thought, but I must confess, my friend, that I do not differentiate very much between thoughts and words. Quite frankly, I do not attach great importance to thoughts either. I attach more importance to things. For example, there was a man at this ferry who was my predecessor and teacher. He was a holy man who for many years believed only in the river and nothing else. He noticed that the river's voice spoke to him. He learned from it; it educated and taught him. The river seemed like a god to him and for many years he did not know what every wind, every cloud, every bird, every beetle is equally divine and knows and can teach just as well as the esteemed river. But when this holy man went off into the woods, he knew everything; he know more than you and I, without teachers, without books, just because he believed in the river."

Govinda said: "But what you call thing, is it something real, something intrinsic? Is it not only the illusion of Maya, only image and appearance? Your stone, your tree, are they real?"

"This also does not trouble me much," said Siddhartha. "If they are illusion, then I also am illusion, and so they are always of the same nature as myself. It is that which makes them so lovable and venerable. That is why I can love them. And here is a doctrine at which you will laugh. It seems to me, Govinda, that love is the most important thing in the world. It may be important to great thinkers to examine the world, to explain and despise it. But I think it is only important to love the world, not to despise it, not for us to hate each other, but to be able to regard the world and ourselves and all beings with love, admiration and respect."

The Christian Buddha

A Christian Monk visited a Zen Master at The University of Tokyo. When the Monk asked the Master if he had ever read the Christian Bible, the Master replied, "No," but continued, "Please read it to me." The Monk opened the Bible to the 'Sermon on the Mount' in St. Matthew, and began reading:

"Consider the lilies of the field, how they grow; they do not toil, nor do they spin; and yet, even Solomon in all his glory was not arrayed like these..."

After reading Christ's words, he paused. The Master was silent for a long time... and finally said, "Whoever uttered these words is an enlightened being," with esteem, he concluded, "What you have read to me is the essence of everything I have been trying to teach you here!"

Psalm 82

God presides over heaven's court;
   he pronounces judgement on the judges:
"How long will you judges hand down
       unjust decisions?
   How long will you shower special favors
       on the wicked?
Give fair judgement to the poor and the
       orphan;
   uphold the rights of the oppressed and
       destitute.
Rescue the poor and helpless;
   deliver them from the grasp of evil
       people.
But these oppressors know nothing;
   they are so ignorant!
And because they are in darkness,
   the whole world is shaken to the core.
I say, 'You are gods
   and children of the Most High.
But in death you are mere men.
   You will fall as any prince,
   for all must die.'"
Rise up, O God, and judge the earth,
   for all nations belong to you.

What Is Zen?

TRY if you wish. But Zen comes of itself. True Zen shows in everyday living, CONSCIOUSNESS in action. More than any limited awareness, it opens every inner door to our infinite nature. 
Instantly mind frees. How it frees! False Zen wracks brains as a fiction concocted by priests and salesmen to peddle their own wares. 
Look at it this way, inside out and outside in: CONSCIOUSNESS everywhere, inclusive, through you. Then you can't help living humbly, in wonder. 

"What is Zen?" 

One answer: Inayat Khan tells a Hindu story of a fish who went to a queen fish and asked: 
"I have always heard about the sea, but what is this sea? Where is it?" 
The queen fish explained: "You live, move, and have your being in the sea. The sea is within you and without you, and you are made of the sea, and you will end in the sea. The sea surrounds you as your own being." 

Another answer:

when i "read" the second answer i literally threw the book down on the ground in total disbelief. i've known about the "answer of no-answer" for a long time, but until you actually see it in action you can't understand it. i was in total shock, all i could say for 5 minutes straight was "o my god, o my god, o my god..." it blew my mind.

The state induced by reading this was very similar, if not identical, to the state depicted in the movie Constantine when she says, "I've always known. I've always known where they are. I've always known where to - where to find them, where to - where to aim and where to duck, and I've always known where they were. I've always known that it wasn't luck. Always known that it wasn't luck. I've always known, I've always known that I could see."