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Fw: Pt 4 Bardo- A Walk Along the Interstate

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  • Starving Buddha
    Within the flames of Kierkegaard s Furnace... A nightmarish vision then came to sight... Oh the horror of it all!... A large basin, dare Eye call it a lake!
    Message 1 of 1 , Jul 6, 2004
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      Within the flames of Kierkegaard's Furnace...

      A nightmarish vision then came to sight... Oh the horror of it all!... A large basin, dare Eye call it a lake! Burning with infernal fires, waves of torrid heat sweeping across the seething surface, distorting what was visualized into a wavering upward melting blur... Through the flames it almost seemed, but oh how could this be, human beings were walking into the fire, falling from a precipice above the lake...

      'The soul, in its natural state is naturally pure-' a voice began- 'the pristine soul is unconnected and undetermined.'

      Vision altered like changing scenes... In the shifting sands of imaginary desert dunes there was witnessed a jewel of splendid magnificence...

      The voice continued- 'The soul becomes marred and flawed when, taken from its pure-state of non-identity, it is encapsulated within the false idea of individual self-ness.'

      A strand like thread began to wrap itself about the lustrous jewel, its brilliance being dulled behind the encroaching string.

      'When the drop, indestructible, becomes veiled with notions that are illusions apparently unique, the drop is then drawn deep into the delusions of self, embodied between flesh and bone, between blood and sinew; concentrated within waste gangue.'

      Vision flashed back to the scene of horror, then began to move in closer... The abhorrence of the vision intensified. The human forms were stripped of all skin! The mocking grin of muscle and bone, the frightfully wide eyes of skinless skulls, stepping slowly towards the impending edge...

      And what's this! Behind these helpless souls, prodding them along with a sadistic glee, denizens of Hell poking archaic pitch-forks into the tender exposed spines, urging the dying and the dead with a joyful vengeance; the dying then, one by one, step off over the edge; behind, an endless line extending far back into the haze of this surreality.

      As vision pans across this abysmal cragged vista, demons are seen scattered throughout the fume and flame, so copious, they infest this barren, sulfurous landscape like tiny proliferated demon-mites, each with an iron fork thrusting upwards defiantly, their silhouettes painting dark sinuous shades before a fiery backdrop.

      'The first fetter that constricts the drop and withholds its truth within self-ness is desire.'

      Vision shifts back to the jewel, a web of threads wrapping themselves around-

      'Desire burns and like combustion, that which burns, consumes...'

      The threads emerge in a flurry, stitching themselves into a mesh, the tightly woven fabric enclosing completely the shimmer of the jewel-

      'Desire however, is a force all its own and distinctive from the things we desire, though within the illusion of self-ness, we can see no difference. Therefore the first stage in freeing the drop from the grasp of individuation, is to consume the self in the fires of desire... In the flame of the thing it desires...'

      Vision shifts back to hell:

      Below, limbs and torsos could be seen to swirl in the plasmic cauldron, rising and sinking in the bubbling stew... Large patches of crust, like scabs, forming on the simmering surface at various localities, then catching fire and burning away. These patches, these islands were the impurities of human souls, imperfections that in life were the dynamics of sinful action, as if these floating conflagrations represented the combustion that fueled so much of human behavior... What Eye was seeing, was the very process of purifying the human soul of its sinful nature. What was burned off in that flaming reservoir was the identity that made us each unique. Could it be that the final stage before we become pure, is to be cleansed of everything that made us who we were?

      'Within each individual, stitched into the very fibres of their flesh, exists one desire paramount to all others.'

      Vision changes back to the fibre-cocooned jewel. Vision magnifies in close enough to focus on a single constricting strand-

      'This one thing represents the sum of all desire to them, for it is the desire of existence itself. The desire of existing... It is the core of their identity. Although it be the same desire for all, the thing through which the desire is made manifest by each is imagined to be unique.'

      As far as Eye could see, the lake stretched out broadly as if a boiling ocean within some tartaran cavern that the end thereof could not be discerned, nor the top fathomed... Only the silent procession of horrible skeletal figures, what may be best described as the raw material of souls, marching slowly, unmercilessly to their end...


      How many different things these phantoms may desire, how many different ways these walking corpses will be cauterized, the horror of it all lies within the idea that it is all the same. Within the bubbling vitriolic brew below, each and every desire awaits there to eat the flesh from the bone.

      Vision retracks, the thread about the jewel becomes a fibre of fine silk, woven into luxurious sheets, the sheen of which gleams from the light of a midnight moon, glaring in through the latticed window of a darkened bedroom.

      'Stage One: Gravity Separation- Suspended Either/Or falls to the bottom, the waste gangue is washed away...'

      There, the delicate feel of skin on skin, soft as the sheets on which they lay, permeating the senses of touch... Naked thighs entwine like vines, the tender press of breasts and groins, the aroma of their arousal titillates, driving the engorged kissing lips and lapping tongues into a fit of impassioned frenzy...

      'Stage Two: Smelting- The Either/Or concentrate is heated to a high temperature with a flux and an Agent of Reduction...'

      ****



      I remember sitting on top of the world. In my hand, I believed I held everything; the strings held firmly in my grasp. For a time, this ubiquity satisfied, but then a question surfaced to my mind, a question I asked not only of myself, but to reality in general: What does any one thing mean, what is its intrinsic value when all things are so easily obtainable? What good does it do to wish when all your desires are so readily available within your reach?

      I sat and pondered this thought for what seemed many moments, maybe hours, maybe days, years, or even lifetimes... Perhaps I even contemplated this query for ├Žons, whilst I evolved... I do not know, to me time itself is negated of its limiting tendencies...

      For after all, The Lord of the Universe is not inhibited by something that exerts negligible effects... And it is this thought alone which leaves me most perplexed... Though puzzled more by the consideration of such thoughts and why I would need to even think them...

      Just then, as if it were a response to my inquiry, the doors to the main hall of my Palace of Splendor, burst open, and there, in the doorway, stood a ragged, road-weary man. He shook the dust of the trail off of his long leather trenchcoat, and pulled back a weather beaten hat, revealing intensely focused eyes, a glare made taut it seemed by the process of becoming wise... Pale orbs of the most pristine blue, contrasted by the dark, sun-scorched skin of his face; his eyes, the gaze of which when transfixed, held me firmly captivated...

      I shook myself out of my distraction- "What is the meaning of this?" said I sternly...

      He spoke as he approached- "How valued a thing is, when its worth cannot be purchased. How prized a possession becomes when its truth cannot be discerned. How troubling it is to decide when from the many at our disposal we must choose only one, forsaking all the others... And worse, to learn: we really have no choice at all, for it is a decision we must to make..."

      "You speak such gibberish... I have no time for this... How did you get past my guards!?"

      "An appropriate question asked by any Lord, however, the question you should be asking is 'how much am I willing to spend to answer it?'"

      "This is preposterous!... You cannot barter with me. I will have your head!..." I screamed... "Who do you think you are?!"

      He lowered himself to one knee, bowing reverently before me, and continued to speak:

      "In this business, I've found, you get what you pay for. If you're looking for a bargain, you're gonna have to settle for less... It only makes perfect sense..."

      He reached into his coat, rummaging through a pocket on the inside...

      "There are a select few though, like you I assume, who refuse to compromise. Anything short of more just won't do. These are the clientele I cater to."

      "I am no one's client. I am the one and only Lord of the Universe... I am that which was, is, and forever will be... And you are invariably, one of my subjects..."

      "Yes... Well, what I am, is the one who can provide an answer to all your questions. That is what I do, and that is what I have always done..."

      He pulled out a small paper envelope, crudely written across the front-side, the word: FLUX...

      "Let us call this The Rock of the Sages, it is the legendary Philosopher's Stone, that which turns the base into gold; with it, the mysterious is made to be known..."

      "Let me see that!" I said perturbed

      Inside was what appeared to be simply a saffron-coloured crystalline powder.


      "Clearly you take me for a fool... I will not fall for this ridiculous circus chicanery" I said- "besides, all this sounds too good to be true, there must be a catch."

      "My, you are a shrewd one... Moreso than the last... Indeed it is too good to be true m'lord..." he replied- "and of course there's a catch. You see, it can be whatever you want it to be, but it cannot be everything you want...

      "As Lord you have it all, and therefore, you want for nothing, because everything is so easily gained... But what you truly desire is to want for something, something that is beyond your reach. Something thought unobtained... What you truly desire is to want for something that you cannot have... Now I ask the question once again: How much are you willing to spend?"

      ****


      He peers deep into her almond-shaped eyes, through them she seems to say: I ask of thee, how much do you value me and the gift you are about to receive?

      In them, he perceives wells of yearning tempting him there, to lose himself within the everything that is her... His hand caresses her velvet cheek, his fingers become lost in the satin of her flowing black hair, like gladly losing ones touch in the soft womb of the night...

      His willingness to submit to her demands apparent by the ophidian symbol of his lust throbbing outside the pillars of her sacred temple; outside, though near enough to sense her acceptance... At the altar, a tiny pearl-offering drips viscidiously as if from the serpents fang...

      ****


      Driven to my knees by the ecstasy of desire overwhelming, Eye looked up from my bended stance... Suddenly, it was Eye, standing in line, conscious of the torment before me, yet unable to resist, involuntarily stepping closer and closer to the brink of the abyss, prodded on by the poke of demonic forks...

      'The Agent of Reduction combines with the oxygen to form a soul-oxide, leaving a soul essence-pure...'

      The vision which then presented itself before mine eyes, captivating, inhibiting all unconscious action, even breathing... Choking on the exasperation that is this beauty pure.

      The life-grip is felt to weaken, the singular fear of death felt by existence diverging into an opposition of panic and relief. To properly contain this ambivalence, self divides in two...

      In one, sight is blinded, taste overwhelmed, smell stifled, touch over-sensitized, as the wordless music of her voice entrances into the stupor of being lost... Of forever hanging on...

      For the other, that of forever letting go, the only feeling left to experience, for expression is completely beyond me now, is the undying desire to become one with that which is before what Eye was... For Eye am no longer me, but that which is to be...


      ****


      She parts open the veil, a thin drape that separates her holy sanctum from the eyes of the profane; the flow of her want issues forth as an unctuous stream, a tributary that seeps between softly parted petals... Hips thrust up to signal appropriation, the choice has been made, her suitor named; the warmth of her lust slickens his, as the snake slithers easily into the temple and orgasmically pours out his libations to the goddess...

      ****


      'The flux then combines with the waste gangue to form a slag that is liquid at the smelting temperature and can then be skimmed away...'

      The image of Hell is resumed as a fiery river floods The Fields of the Nephilim...

      Vision then comes upon a series of troughs; channels, and canals leading away from the burning lake, where tiny streams, tributaries route a glowing liquid not unlike molten metal.

      A ways away, a vast and expansive field spreads out, where the routed liquid is then cast into a myriad of molds, forming ingots... Randomly, one ingot is picked from the multitude and vision magnifies in to focus on this one and this one alone...

      Floating...

      Tides move...

      One is at the mercy of the living See...

      Although one is no longer one, but now a part of the All, the All reflects upon itself thus, as it sees itself from one's point-of-view; it observes itself as:

      'The soul of every living being; it is what makes the boundless process of reincarnation possible. The gateway to liberation, always open, essentially free, though the being evolved around it may identify itself with intensely turbulent states of suffering. It is peaceful, translucent trouble-free and uncreated. Knowing it is what made the Buddha smile...'

      The One that is now All, the All in One, moves through the fluid of intelligent light, closer and closer to The Great Perfection- The One again becoming one with the All.

      Amidst one's conscious vision, one would see flurries of light as if the debris of exploding stars, showering the darkness of empty space with the brilliance of cosmic revelation. This current of knowledge and the understanding thereof is drawn towards a central point that is pure light, an envisionment brighter than sight can ever hope to see... It is no longer a matter of light being a phenomenon that is sensed, this light is experienced, this light incorporates, this light absorbs until one realizes that everything one was before this was a complete lie, an abominable corruption; for this light is Truth, and in the end, the truth devours any and all facsimiles...


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