*18*
It truly is by the prince of demons that they cast out demons.
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The pious for lack of imagination settle for a lesser heaven.
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Miracle is interpretation.
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Poets are gods.
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Speech is the oil of action.
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To be the heart of the family, the heart of the work place, the heart of a church, the heart of a country, means self-effacement. It is another matter to be the face of a group, but the heart moves the face, by pouring wisdom into all.
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Tyranny's greatest crime is to shackle the heart.
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My body the pen on the page of history.
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The flowers of bliss grow from the soil of rot and death.
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I'd rather be contradicted than wanly praised. "Opposition is true friendship."
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Enlightenment comes when we finally see our darkest shame as our brightest star.
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Death is the teacher of life.
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Only bullies bid you to bow. The true divine receives our love without question.
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Coffee: Ama's tears of manic verve, heats our deeds and fires our word.
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If you have a simple mind, make it austere.
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Every event leaves a trace. History is written over the world.
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Chance is the loser's God.
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Powerful memories of various tones color our brush as we paint our today.
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A grudge is a psychic scar.
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A flower shows her gratitude to the gardener by simply being herself: bright and fragrant. Expect the same expression of gratitude from those around you: they are happy by simply being themselves.
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Religion is in skill, not prayers.
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Because the Eternal One already lives at home in my heart, I shoulder this burgeoning duty, and never desist, will endure every indignity and never resent, for the battle is won, the night is over -- amidst the inviolate garden of my innermost, her lithe limbs grace my soul.
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Oh my lover! At this proximity, a frown could kill me. Let us look with deepened eyes upon a glory none can see.
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God is Placebo.
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Us Gods have religion too: we revere ourselves, pray, sacrifice, and make rituals to ourselves. Above all, we honor the divine wherever that light may shine.
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We continue to grow up, to the point of death and beyond. If we remain supple, we can grow more in our final ten years than we did our first.
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I've scattered my sons and daughters throughout history, before and after me, and then began playing my game now: I recognize my own wherever I go.
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Sex is a knitting, towards and away, presence and absence: so too is all friendship sex, with pulling near and pulling away, marked at times with droughts of absence.
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Art is pattern, and patterns of patterns.
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Let your body be a nexus of organizing energies. Improve all you touch. Write as you live--wrive!--and edit your world as you traverse it.
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Punctuate your day with breathes, meditations, releases, and reliefs.
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Use is beauty.
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Make your life a work of art.
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If we notice most when life goes wrong, we might suspect that's all it does.
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Like looking out the window at dawn, to see our own reflection superimposed over the rising sun, is it to look upon the face of Ama.
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We should use our friends, our job, our decorations, our music, our diet, our exercise, all things to reinforce and intensify our Purpose.
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Every particular form is an epitome and incarnation of a universal reality.
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My American Gods! Study Emerson, Whitman, and Thoreau; Hawthorne's Scarlet Letter, Melville's Moby Dick, all of Henry James all of William James, Dewey's Art as Experience and Kenneth Burke's Grammar, Smith's Doctrines and Covenants, Benton's murals, Steve Vai's solo career, the American Political documents --Declaration, Constitution, and Federal Papers -- Lincoln's speeches, King Jr's speeches, and also whatever calls your own heart.
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Homosexuality and the fear thereof have made intimacy between men nearly impossible in this country.
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Madness is a lens that contorts the innermost and at times makes it stark, but never touches that wonderful light; though the whole brain decay, that innermost light remains inviolate.
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Sincerity confounds even the subtlest artifice: the child routes the darkest demon.
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Touch my love in the words I say, but weigh my words by deeds.
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Why do you contradict me at every turn when in your heart you worship me?
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The plight of the bipolar patient is all our plight: how to manage our energy, accounting powers to bring our ups and downs into a constant steaming towards our purpose.
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Mattria is known through science, Ama through religion.
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Religion means "to read again."
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History disputes Mormonism, science disputes Scientology -- yet what is religious in each is sacrosanct.
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Wisdom is making the most of what you have.
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Anxiety -- a knife under the skin prodding us towards greatness.
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Judo teaches us move with our foes to through them; Jazz teaches us to turn our mistakes into rhyme: having that allistic fluidity means we can use all of life towards our purpose, to find a use for trash, to waste nothing, and hold no complaints.
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Our symbols are the computer chips that organize our psychic energy. Implanting a chip requires dedication to the ideas it represents. Myths and gods as well as science and men make efficient chips.
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We must be accountants of vitality, and find the body chargers -- exercise, rest, and diet; the heart chargers -- sex, kindness, and poetry; and mind chargers -- study, writing, and meditation; to ever keep a streaming capital moving through our systems.
*19*
Prayer is the poetry of the illiterate.
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Eating the right amount of food strengthens us; eating too much weakens. Because we give meaning to food other than nourishment, too much food manages to feed those meanings.
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Any activity can become a therapy for another -- for work problems, for love problems -- given that it holds sufficient distance, and yet can run in metaphorical parallel, empowering us indirectly.
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Art is epitomized life.
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Faith and practice fuse as life.
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Mind is care. Take care, caretakers! Mind life and learn.
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There are many ways to take a scripture, but the pious way is the worst.
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Men strive at life: gods play life as a game.
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Sometimes I hate even my friends, and want only you, Ama. Only four people are utter Ama to me, and of them my heart never tires.
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Only when you have Purpose will you recognize opportunity.
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Press your chest to me, synch your heart with mine.
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Such a lover is Whitman that he is not in love with anybody, he is in love with everybody. So it is with me, but there are a few who have me by the heart and shall have my trust and ardor for all my existence -- you select few I love the most, and show as no other could guess the hidden wonder of the innermost garden of my heart.
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My energy kites and dives, but no matter the turn of violence, my peace uses every move.
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Psyche is my sanity, Rozhiar my madness: our friends become our faculties.
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Dreams give a vision of possibility.
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