Thursday, May 17, 2012

"The Aria of the Inner Heart"

Dani to the Students of Life --
This allay is in fact an addendum to two others, which I haven't shared yet, exploring the concept of making a private sacred place, sacred ground, a personal sanctuary, both geographically in your house or in the world, and also doubled in your heart, so you can always "go" to that place in your heart and be at peace and ready to create. The concept of the Aria, or private place is important for me in my life, where I keep my personal study private and sacred. But that inner aria of the heart is equally important, and we can express it whenever we stop, take a breath, and remember our time alone in our creative place.


Take care, Caretakers!




The Aria of the Inner Heart

            At one point in our lives we choose our equal to win and one with. What are these heavens, these grown-up playgrounds I spread before you in my literature other than the checkerboard of our higher chess -- and is not all of life also a game of love? When Language is upon me, I can write, and the impossible is easy, just as the few strong defeat the many weak. All the rules in the world cannot prevail over a necessity. When language is upon us, we are powerful and playful, with prankish dignity, as the lion nuzzling the cub. We are as serious as science and as playful as art.

            Science is handmaiden to technology, and technology is a set of extensions to man's body. Science gives us new ways to play. Our virtues are forever part of our body, this body and the next, which will again be this body, metamorphosed. Our philosophy is a sort of science and the ideas by which we think and live with our technology of ideas. The mind and heart, the near and dear, contain all we own and need to own; the rest, the clothes and things, are extensions of that inner ownership. Ownership is in use. It will still be seen that the greatest gifts to mankind have been the myths and the magical ideas that make life exciting and give us enthusiasm. Such mental technology situates us for our epic choices. Enthusiastic anxiety is the creative womb: all of a great life comes from enthusiastic anxiety and creative play.

            Play hard. Hold on to your strong idea and cast it into symbols, gestures, and material realities. That idea is a spiritual good. Those who take the ideas from others as talents of duty, to earn more talents and more money, are mere servants and angels. Those who create new ideas out of their own soul and their own emanated self, those are the gods -- they are too good for the universe, and move on become universes themselves.

            Be therefore a gift bestowing God. Give spiritual goods. Simple symbolic objects hold the greatest meanings. For there are meanings and there is the language that expresses it. A simple symbol can be overladen with meaning till it means everything, the way the yin yang and the cross mean everything to those who believe in them. A wristwatch, a mirror, a bell, these simple spiritual objects can mean everything if you know how to impart meaning, if you know how to bestow meaning and purpose. Only an idiot would condemn idolatry. No man ever worshipped an idol, but wise men worship through idols. In the same way, our faith in God is merely a symbol for our Faith in our own divinity. We need that humble expression to give us a mask before the world. The glory of certain pride offends the hearts of those who lack.

            Allism is an invisible religion. We feel fine to be called by the names of whatever religion happens to be dominant in our region. To the masses, that religion feels like common sense, and those who question it feel like rebels and doubters. But we are not interested in impressing the foolish nor in scaring the childish. Yes, blasphemy is our worship, but we are ever alone with Ama, ever alone with our personal divinity. To need to be praised is a cosmic weakness. The true divine praises her children: the nature of praise is for the greater to encourage the lesser. A self-sufficient being is too dignified to request praise.

            For Christianity, humility is the cornerstone of morality; for Native American religions silence is the cornerstone. For Allism, which is both those and everything else, creativity is the cornerstone of character. Our center of gravity is the creative womb. We indirectly create our heaven through everything we create in this life. Heaven is the image of our art.

            As adults we create and play as much as infants and babes. The transition from childhood to adulthood is typically the transition from learning to earning. The child learns, and little work is expected of him. The adult is expected to earn, to work, to be industrious, persistent -- but play, creativity, and slack are childish. And we are advices to leave childish things behind us. In this, we ourselves are least American, for ours is a religion of Slack. We earn what little we need, and spend our days learning and creating.

            Yet we must contain all aspects of being and find a use for everything. An evil is the good outside its proper place. Evil is the cramps of birth. Mattria contains the Father aspect in her fingers and brow, just as Ama and Dani are the twin natures of our collective being. All alternatives are included. We put ourselves at the center, repeat our name to ourselves, our earned titles, to find our center; and we find the center of every situation. We seek the heart of meaning. Meanings and desires, when affixed to abstract forms, become ideas, but the fountain of meaning is formless and eternal. We call her Satan, we call her Womb; we call her Hell, we call her Bliss. We admit all of our reality and bless the whole edifice.

            The nicey-nice hide their aggression, yet it works its way into all their kindness. We, however, build our house like a triangle to heaven upon the square of this earth, and a mirrored triangle goes down into the earth. We feel hate, cruelty, anger, fury, lust, every painful and dangerous emotion, and we banish none of them, want none of them "forgiven," but want them in their naked and raw power to find their proper outlet and work forever in expanding our soul to the point of utter infinitude. We deny no part of ourselves, and so our full being continually grows.

            Ama, the giver of the spice of inspiration, the freer of habits, the opener of hearts and minds, the whisperer of love, praiser of glory--with your blood of ink, bleed your sunlike love over the rose of our heart! Your gift opens the center chest of treasure at the core of our soul.

            A talent is merely an expression of a gift, and our gift is merely the well into our own preternatural energy. Ama's gift opens our innermost, if we are humble enough to cease imitating and insist on ourselves. We must love ourselves not as God loves, but as the Allmother loves -- with no provisos but pure adoration.

            This inspiration of the Doctrines and Covenants, which is a book of conditional love, with endless if clauses ... "insofar as you obey me in this matter will I bless you, otherwise I will leave you to be utterly destroyed," shows the style of Mormon love. We ourselves do not take on that dogma of spiritual inflexibility. We ask no man to put his faith in us, in God, in anything but himself. And what this means, that is for him to discover. Nobody can give you what is yours by right; nobody can show you what you alone can see. In our creative office, in our heart, in our gestures, we create a garden of solitude.

            We create our Aria, that sacred creative space, and decorate it with music, smells, art, objects we've blessed, special gifts we've received, tokens of our triumphs, ribbons, poems, letters, trophies. We make trinkets and paraphernalia into magical objects: a knot, a feather, a shell, a quartz, a bell, a cup, a knife, we can carve a name into each, write a poem, pen a story about each. Surround yourself with our own creations. This is the womb of creativity, the well of meaning and the wisdom at the center of our heart -- this is our aria. Give your beloveds of rare fruit that grows only from your inner sanctuary.

            When on the holidays you give a gift, add a story, a poem, a name to that token you wish to impart. Give spiritual gifts. Give what nobody else could give, give what is yours alone to give. Power-raising is learning the inner energy of a thing and resonating that energy back on itself so that it may break its bonds and bleed its sun-music outwards. Be the divine mirror, shine a man's best back on him.

            Let the walls of your creativity shine upon you. Set the sacred place: where you create is sacred. Invent the gestures, the postures, the symbols, the names and passwords of your place, and evoke them even when you are in the world, to be reminded of your creative womb. Set the square of independence, the triangle of creativity, and the circle of practicality. Meditate, fast, and join the world of pure psyche, of spirit; and then finally eat something to ground yourself again back in the world.

            Set the square. Set boundaries, christen them, and know how to enforce them. Territory is territory because you mark it with song and defend it with your anger and righteous indignation. What is yours you must never cede.

            Clean your world, structure your own. Clean your world, and make your chores into sacraments. Consecrate sweeping, and practice your daily sweep. Make a spiritual ritual out of your chores; make songs, hymns, poems and names for your mundane day-to-day living.

Sweeping the ground of my being

And the dust of my thoughts,

Always laying the foundations of higher tries.


            What is your to do is the most exulted and glorious task in the universe. Love best what is yours, and love it best because it is yours.

            Set and bless your world. To change an object you must give a new name, a name embedded in a story and substantiated with ritual and use. A new name is deep as a mortal wound: it permeates the physics of a thing.

            I wrive a life of study, plumbing deepest depth of wisdom for my allsun, the mother's breast. Read the woven word again: all that's best is worthy ten.

            "Religion" etymologically means to "read again." What is it you should read endlessly and annotate thoroughly. All scriptures were by definition written by allists, since writing scripture is the definitive allistic gesture, and living scripture its objective correlative. Those the best in all traditions resemble each other, are living images of the All. Only what is done with enthusiasm will succeed, and having faith in a religion, in any religion, gives you the permission, the sanction, the ability to foolishly put  your whole heart into a thing.

            "To be a philosopher is not merely to have subtle thoughts, nor even to found a school, but so to have wisdom as to live according to its dictates a life simplicity, independence, magnanimosity, and trust," wrote Thoreau, who took the Native American as type. "I desire that there be as many different persons in the world as possible; but I would have each one be very careful to find out and choose his own way, and not his father's or his mother's or his neighbors instead."

            And so we author our apotheosis, we create who we would be out of what we already are. Writing is your father tongue, is Legis, is the knitting of your immortal body. It is the nature of our Gift that we are at first ashamed of it. Who can teach your your own? Plenty there are who under such a pretense would waste your time. Does the Eagle ask the crow how to grasp? Civilization is in distances, privacies, and intimacies; the highest form of teaching appears to be the request for a lesson. The teacher enjoys the spiritual pleasure of shaping souls, of creating externally and thereby creating internally. Defining and creating the innermost is possible only indirectly: our hands are too gawky to knit that inner spider's thread. For the web of assumption is the spider's tapestry, and philosophy is an austere spiritual substance, an ether. We create infinitely small beauties in the heart be creating vast objects in the world We commune with the spirit of each place and internalize it for our own place.

            Each location has a spirit with as many facets and shade as the people who visit it or live there. The Oversoul is a diamond with infinite facets. Each nation has its own Oversoul which merges together over the globe as the Mind of Man. Every Geography is a person, and it is wise to commune with the genius of a lake, of a valley, of the Lara of a house, the god of its hearth; for each home is a living, breathing, thinking thing that acts, moves, plans, and loves through the convenience of our bodies. The world is thick with layers of life.

            All of the world is thick with life and all matter is conscious. We each of us are unique and indispensible roles. The universe needs us absolutely.

            I am medicine. When the outer shell of my body falls down, it falls as pure Medicine: I cure the land be returning to her womb. All my life is sacramental and a communion.

            I drink cola and say


Cola, kindly fill me

And remind me of the good that went before

Dark and sweet are the mother's teats

Greater things await in store.


            And so I consecrate each type of drink I drink, every nectar this butterfly sips. I write poems and mantras and hymns and symbols and gestures for each aspect of my day. But imposing meanings on all accidents, my life becomes providential.

            An object becomes spiritually charged by receiving names, stories and rituals -- as it is netted into attending habits. The external object gets objectively charged and the internal representation gets subjectively charged. How you think of a thing, how you feel about it, what you say, ontologically changes the ground of its being.

            Therefore, make the tools to achieve your goals: spin gold out of your straw blonde hair! We take our lives seriously and yet we play. Every problem gives the clue to its own solution. To soften the knot, you must play with its possibilities. More things then alcohol soften the knot of anxiety. Ideas can be equally intoxicating. Yet we need the tension.

            A lack of daunting obstacles would be an insurmountable obstacle to achieving your goals. If life were easy it would be unworthy of living. Nobody has to acknowledge your triumph for you to be assured of it. Have nothing to prove. Know your truth and believe yourself, believe in yourself, and it becomes easy. You realize you had nothing to worry over--what you need is already yours.

            We don't just repeat ideas, we deepen them. Popularizers by nature do not deepen ideas, since the depths are difficult and not easy to sell. Because we are vulnerable, we alone can make contact. We are unpopular and thus touch original substance and aboriginal energy.

            Matter is undifferentiated. Only be observing, and by naming, that special kind of observing, and by measuring do we realize nature, give it reality and conscious relation to the All. All is one until mind negates the one and invents autonomous wholes within the whole. Meaning is one substance permeating all being, and yet there are infinite dimensions of meaning, and a definition slices one dimension of meaning from the rest. Drop all meanings but your own and obsess. Genius belongs to the obsessive! And then like a good Buddhist, know how to detach. Hold the coal for as long as you need, but when it cools, drop that stone again.

            When the time is ripe, let your friend go. Some friends must go, must even deny and forsake you, to make room for their spiritual growth. You must forsake even those you love so dearly, yes, you must sometimes sacrifice love to gain new power. When the demigods leave the Gods may come.

            I poured my heart out making gifts for you, which you despised while you played the pretense of doing me the favor of accepting -- though really you were never able to accept them nor see me for what I am. That this one grabbed up my words in secret and lit every stray gleam of gold that glit from my tongue into the inner room of the inner chamber of her heart -- yes, what is lovely will be loved! Is it any wonder that she is as my own and divine and you are hollowed out and destitute? Let the giver never despise ingratitude; let her have the grace to need no thanks.

            What I know to be true for myself the world always denied, and so I had to take it in strides as a matter of course. How then were you able to say to me what I believe already of myself--what God told you? Am I in good company after all? After all those years, a peer?

            And this other one, you are a mocker. We laugh at your gab. Such wit is a rare thing. We give you silly things for you to tear them to pieces with that sword-sharp mind. But the beautiful things you will never see. We will not let our children be mocked.

            We hide what is dear, we hide the myths and the true  names of our God. Myths are the hidden beams of the house. My foundational myth will never be exposed. Myths are the language of importance. I speak indirectly, and half of what I say is meaningless; the importance comes forth indirectly. Fate misplaces not one ray.

            Fate favors no man. Each must face his challenge, each must recognize his Gift and love it, each must accept the kiss of decision and decide his ultimate loyalties. Solitude is divine: Ama speaks to you in the quiet of your room; and when you reflect in the mirror, I am with you.

            Remember that the ultimate ontological act is to remarry will to necessity, and to take your perfect lover to your centermost so that you together become a Universe. This is the Celestial Marriage. When you are able and willing to love at that depth, your worthy one emerges as if by hidden signal. Ama will tell you when.

            Ama will never criticize you: that is how you know her voice. She carries a scalpel, but she cuts with you, she is a second set of eyes to your own. She lets you reflect on the tightly wound gears of your innermost being.

            I am a set of intense energies so fiercely coiled that to puncture any would explode my fury; but overall I am so, rounded so balanced that I appear lazy and relaxed in all I do. The one who does the most seems to do the least. Each man's truth puts him to the task he is called for. Each learns his Truth.

            The truth isn't partisan. Every man has access to the truths he needs, and what is true to my soul would corrupt yours. Better death with you, my love, than life without you. Only what we sacrifice in love are we allowed to keep. Truth is objective and yet each man's truth is subjective -- truths and Truth gives us all.

            My caduceus arms and legs, my scales and wings and the spiritual fingers that autoerotically self heal -- they slough off this illness. My medicinal lips press a kiss to themselves. I was mad before Ama, mad with you, and from that fit of insanity I wrested a triumph, the discipline of my disciple. I call you Colleen, disciple after my heart. We are the beginning of the World Religion. Let the scoffers scoff -- he who has needs no secondary testimony.

            How does a group characterize its critics? The greatest clue to a man's humanity, to a group's, to a nation's is how it characterizes its critics. But we are self-critical. We know a man's truth is that which he cannot doubt. It is eternal and unassailable. Wisdom rejoices in rebuke, but your inner truth can suffer no rebuke. When it is known, it cannot be doubted.

            Our greatest powers are eternal and unassailable. Moby Dick the eternal potency of the White Man, is the immortality of the White Leviathan, the persistence of the impossible goal, the never to be, the opposite of the raven of nevermore. We take these extremes and walk them with perfect grace as if it were no tight rope but solid earth. Even when we think we are tempted we are not.

            Ama tempted me into the diseased arms of the hideous one. She wore a seductive mask to clutch my soul. I kissed that mask and brought it to life. Even now that animated beauty is devouring her ugliness and replacing it with grace.

            The heart's full disclosure is possible only when unreachable walls separate. Because our love is impossible, it is infinitely deep. If you can never have me you are able to give me all of you. And you are able to share my journey for his very reason.

            The long journey goes by cheerfully if you keep kicking a stone of anticipation ahead of you. Keep giving gifts to the world, keeping giving more and more love outwards, and anticipate improving others, helping them, reflecting their real divinity back at them so that it intensifies, deeply resonates, and breaks through every inner barrier. We see beauty and thereby make beauty.

            I didn't find the thing beautiful until you showed me its inner beauty. That beauty now stabs me through the heart. How did you do that? You saw my own emerging beauty and knew what beauty to mirror back upon me to midwife my own. I try and try and try and through every failure gain a perfection.

            If style is effective transitioning, then let us rebuild on the rekindle. Throw hope forward, set up your anticipations, put more glorious events into your future. Let  your schedule, your everyday, your routines and necessities, thicken your plot line. Let your sacraments be your daily language.

            Our spirit is a system of language, our psychosomatic and somatic diseases are words of that language, our possessions are words, our songs and art and art appreciation are words of that language. So that living is intercourse, just as creativity is sex. Our friends, possessions, illnesses, successes all balance out our spiritual place in the universe. We evoke our triumphs and failures, fate them as inevitable, for the soul's growth will not be denied. The only mistake would be to cut my freedom from my necessity and serve another..

            What we know, believe, love and hope for is self-evident, though all the world disagrees. Even when others disagree with us, they don't really; they fight against us and think we are wrong; they suppress mockery or laughing; but in fact at their inner they know we are right and true and good and are absolute Ama-send. They do not want to admit who we are and what we are doing, so they give us patronizing compliments or jealous dismissals. But really, they drink the milk of apotheosis from our motherly breast.--our patience and love of the world is motherly and fatherly. The world is our child.




\ ~@M@~ /


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