It's up to you
If you manage not to impregnate her, then I guess it will be!
If you are 100% successful practitioner of the backflowing energy represented in this exercise, then your seed will return to your own blood, bringing you the great benefits of "injaculation," and therefore never enter the womb. This would mean, de facto, that "contraception" would be in effect.
Of course, as in most actions, there will be degrees and admixtures in the ratios of actions vs. cessations.
Only you can know whether you are fulfilling your intention, and outcomes from the flow of your seed depend upon you alone.
I hope you continue to practice and advance in your chosen fields of interest.
Here is a lyric I wrote because of what I CHING (The Book of Changes) told me, after I asked the same questions time and time again --
I try not to talk to Him about you, and our tableaux
I know His opinion on the subject of Should I Let You Go
He'll only tell tell me, "No," you know?
"You know who you need beside you."
I asked Him if I'd see you any more
And He said, "The horse strays
But will return of his own accord."
All I can say is until that day, my love,
May the devil burn up on the threshhold
If he tries to come through your door
So what would it be like if . . . [instr.]
You would see me? I Ching!
That would make three times you've relented
Three times I've been rescued from burning
Maybe you only turn to the light
When you learn you can't hide in the dark
Well, I don't know, and then I throw
Two and twenty-four,
Which means, " A fresh start"
I asked Him how I should act towards you
And He said, "Intractible youth"
"You know the score. Ask me no more.
I've already told you the truth."
So what would it be like if . . . [instr.]
You would see me? I Ching!
That would make three times you relented
And three times by heaven defended
So what would it be like if . . . [instr.]
You would see me? I Ching!
Like history reinvented
With all of its sadness amended
So what would it be like if . . .[instr.]
You would see me? I Ching!
It is said that the famous "Lost Word" uttered by the deity in the creation of our world is not really lost. It is in fact "known," that is, in the sacred mysteries, at the proper level, it is still whispered. However it is also "lost" in the sense that once uttered it went out in circles of waves, like a pebble dropped into a pool, that with its iterations and reiterations impacts and alters all pre-existing conditions. Thus it is "lost" because it cannot be taken back, or "unspoken," for the changes it has wrought are infinitely various and dynamic as it continues throughout the realms, much diminished over space and time yet traveling still, eternally dispersing its knowledge and altering forever the worlds where it has been.
They say the knowers of these truths will always be out there.
In the meantime, I am on the scent of a trail of my own, in search of a word that may not be lost but is being lost, is fading with successive editions of dictionaries and encyclopedias that no longer have room for the much longer entries of older editions.
The word is "Eleuthera."
It came to mean "freedom" but in ancient times was a festival of games celebrating a minor war of liberation.
Later it was used as an epithet for Zeus (or Zeus Eleurethios, who gifted humanity with political freedom) and for both Zeus and Dionysius, in their capacities as freers of slaves. In the same vein, the Roman emperor was also called "Eleutherios." because Rome delivered to the world a code of laws that applied to all.
"Eleutheria" is also the title of a collection of poems about democracy by Oscar Wilde, which I did not know until I searched "eleuthera" on the net today. Coincidentally, I had just been reading Wilde yesterday ("Salome") because I was searching through Aubrey Beardsley drawings for decorative elements to adapt for use in a fancy invitation on my desk for designing, and Beardsley happened to have illustrated the edition of "Salome" that is in the library here.
Looking at the Beardsley illustrations, it is quite obvious that to a great extent the psychedelic art of the early Beatles, Peter Maxx and others began as adaptations of Beardsley illustrations.
In the Oxford Unabridged dictionary, "Eleuthera" is used in a quotation by Shelley, to describe an imaginary cult of freedom lovers who asked him to be the "Eleutheriarch" -- or the chief Eleutherian.
During and shortly thereafter the founding of the United States of America, a lively political movement in Europe made up of people who called themselves "Eleutherians" celebrated and promoted the idea of political freedom in Europe.
This is from Wilde's poem, "Sonnet to Liberty" --
But that the roar of thy Democracies,
Thy reigns of Terror, thy great Anarchies,
Mirror my wildest passions like the sea,
And give my rage a brother -- -- ! Liberty!
For his sake only do thy dissonant cries
Delight my discreet soul, else might all kings
By bloody knout or treacherous cannonades
Rob nations of their rights inviolate
And I remain unmoved -- and yet, and yet,
These Christs that die upon the barricades,
God knows it I am with them, in some things.
Very nice poetry --
, and music that is simple and smooth enough to stick to the bread in they head, like some nut butter for afternoon audio snacking.
I recommend it.
Thanks for sharing.
2007-09-12 07:59:32 maikmidlooks
Check out a funny video :
For those who would be the heroes of their own lives,
a reminder to make much of time
Ever striving to evade a life of hopeless puddling, I am inspired by the words of Gongora, the great Spanish poet whose verses Picasso transcribed in illuminated pages. At right is Picasso's plate. Here is a translation:
Less soon the swiftest arrow streaks away
to the appointed mark and bites it deep;
no chariot racing soundless over sand
wheels round the goal more silently,
than hastening, than stealing to an end,
our lifetime runs. Let all who doubt
(brutes deprived of reason they will be)
in each repeating sun their comet find.
Carthage bears witness and still you will not see?
Lycius, your risk is great if you persist,
pursuing shadows, clasping hollow shams.
You'll know scant pity from the passing hours,
the hours that gnaw away at passing days,
the days that eat away at passing years.
By Luis de Gongora y Argote
Translation by Alan S. Trueblood
Illuminated page by Pablo Picasso
2007-09-09 18:04:36 Thank You
This film is right on target for exploring the issues we have been thinking about and writing about here in the last few days.
Maybe facing a few harsh realities about dangers posed by the crazed rampaging of renegade males in this world is beginning to reach mainstream awareness.
As many of you know, HARRIER ANGEL has been harping on this theme since time immemorial. Problems created by great numbers of renegade males in society is an important theme in this piece that describes the women, infants, children, craftsmen and artisans and their struggle to survive amidt the ruinations of a collapsing society.
I'm very excited to learn about BUDDHA COLLAPSED OUT OF SHAME. I can't wait to see it.
Another story on the same subject, but American rather than Afghani, reports on American polygamist society in the border towns of Arizona and Utah.
The story appeared in The New York Times recently, and is still linked there in the "Most Popular" list at http://www.nytimes.com/2007/09/09/us/09polygamy.html?em&ex=1189483200&en=acb2b22dd3b7a796&ei=5087%0A
I urge you to read it.
"Boys Cast Out by Polygamists Find Help" describes a society where American girls and women are forced into polygamous "marriages" -- sometimes with close male relations -- and where hundreds of young men, the sons of these families, are being cruelly expelled from home, church and community. On the slightest pretexts of wrongdoing, these boys suddenly find themselves cast out into an unfamiliar world where they quickly run into trouble, turning to alcohol, drugs and other crime.
The powerful, rich fiends -- renegade males themselves, but in positions of power and influence in their local puddles, effectively eliminate their competition for women by expelling young men as they reach puberty. The fiends claim to believe they must have a minimum of three wives before they will be guaranteed a place in heaven.
The man who founded this "community" is in prison now for his part in forcing a 14-year-old girl to marry an older cousin who already had multiple wives.
The man who stepped into the fiend's place as leader of the pack promptly took a couple of dozen wives for himself -- the prettiest, smartest and most talented. Women who are already married into one group are sometimes forced into another, as they are dealt like the chattle / cattle / livestock they have indeed become.
And it only took a generation to accomplish.
The women, in their long dresses and low status bear striking resemblance to their counterparts in the muslim puddles.
2007-09-09 17:20:33 "Buddha Collapsed Out of Shame"
Bottom Line: First feature from youngest filmmaker of Iran's Makhmalbaf clan is a cute fable that takes a harrowing turn. By John DeFore
Sep 9, 2007
Toronto International Film Festival
TORONTO -- A fable-like day in the life of a young Afghan girl, "Buddha Collapsed Out of Shame" spends enough time charming the viewer that the dark turn it eventually takes feels absolutely harrowing in contrast. Hauntingly effective on its own but getting a boost from the Makhmalbaf brand, it should attract a strong arthouse audience.
Set in Bamiyan, the Afghan village where Taliban soldiers demolished centuries-old Buddhas in 2001, the story follows Baktay, a girl living in cave dwellings not far from the gaping cliffside hole one Buddha left behind. The vacant recess stands like a sad witness in the background of many scenes.
Baktay envies Abbas, the boy next door who's allowed to go to school, mainly because he gets to have his own notebook filled with reading lessons in the form of funny stories. Determined to become a student herself but lacking the money for supplies, Baktay sets off on a mission to earn it. Adorable in her willfulness, she makes a string of transactions that eventually leaves her the proud owner of a blank notebook and a tube of lipstick to use as a pencil.
The story's straightforward charm is abruptly threatened halfway through, as Baktay makes her way toward school. Rejected by Abbas's teacher, who directs her to a girls' school across the river, she is then intercepted by a band of boys whose idea of fun is pretending to be the Taliban.
Led by a child with angry, terrifying eyes, they call Baktay a heathen and detain her, tell her girls aren't allowed to go to school, threaten her with stoning, and rip up most of her notebook for paper missiles they launch at the Buddha already so completely destroyed by actual soldiers.
"I don't want to play the stoning game," Baktay says tearfully, and there's an agonizingly long stretch in which the film refuses to signal whether we're witnessing a tangible assault or a strictly psychological one. Strange, small comic cues keep us from quite making sense of the action, and director Hana Makhmalbaf unsettles us further by sending a kite flying into the scene, subtly enhancing the noise it makes with what sounds like jet engines. (When it hits the ground, real flames trail it.)
This sequence colors the remainder of Baktay's journey, turning child's play into allegory and suggesting likely interpretations for the film's odd title. Makhmalbaf ends with a scene combining the film's most evocative visual image with some of its most dread-filled dialogue, leaving viewers to fear for a generation of Baktays and wonder at the boys growing up alongside them.
BUDDHA COLLAPSED OUT OF SHAME
Makhmalbaf Film House / Wild Bunch
Director: Hana Makhmalbaf
Writer: Marzieh Meshkini
Producer: Maysam Makhmalbaf
Director of photography: Ostad Al
Production designer: Akbar Meshkini
Music: Tolib Khan Shakhidi
Editor: Mastaneh Mohajer
Cast: Baktay: Nikbakht Noruz
Abbas: Abbas Alijome
No MPAA rating, running time 81 minutes
2007-09-09 11:34:07 Oh dear, oh dear -- a run-on sentence
These sentences might be compound, but I hope they are usually grammactically impoeccable (excepting typos) . . . and even then only on rarest occasions.
I do hope to return to the editor's chair and correct the egregious ramblings below.
In a hurry when I wrote it, and just letting it flow. So. . .
in light, life and love,
y'rs tr'ly, xto
2007-09-09 11:26:55 You Are My Sunshine
Thank you. Your fulfillment is mine.
2007-09-09 11:09:57 Debby
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2007-09-08 04:47:47 Nadine
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2007-09-08 02:31:02 MedicalView
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2007-09-05 13:57:17 puddlers
On the subject of humanity lifting up its head to embrace self-realization in pursuit of godhead, somebody writes an entry about tan earlier thread, effecting a disconnect between the text and the pix meant to go with commentary on how cruelly puddler mentality limits (and wastes) the soul's greatest opportunity, which is to being alive in this world in the carnal state.
I'm sure it is exceedingly difficult to move ahead in one's progress toward self realization when living among puddlers, let along being forced virtually back to the cave oneself and becoming a puddler by default as there is nothing else possible to be.
Therefore I had to write this little addendum, to reconnect the dots -- and hope our friends struggling to break through will understand and appreciate the sense in using as examples here the extreme limitations placed on people by religion-vendors, even as the symbols and stories of that religion may continue to nourish the soul (e.g., the scarab, which to me is a reminder of how humble is the prime mover, whom I call "Elijah Digger" -- the sacred dung beetle, "he who emerges from the earth.") I like to draw a cartouche with this figure when quieting the mind and preparing for meditation. At some point in this exercise, the name of the little scarab pictured in my drawings got the name, Elijah Digger.
Please do not forget how easy it is for religious dogmas to be used for opportunistic power mongering having nothing whatsoever to do with spiritual value. Remember, too, how hard it can be to break free once these forces have taken hold.
By all means, defend freedom!
For light, life and love,
2007-09-05 09:07:25 feodor
In your invasive marsh grass pictures, I like the one that shows the tufts and mounds of the regular (un-screwed up) grasses have been shaped by the waves and the tide. Beautiful.
2007-09-05 08:34:50 puddlers
Puddlers are entities on any level that muddle in puddles, forming local scenarios of rules and rites that bear little or no resemblance to or consistency with the rules and rites of contiguous puddles.
An individual can be a puddler, as can any family, neighborhood, town, state or nation. Various religious dogmas can also be described as puddlers, if no governing rule of order/harmony/truth/justice -- or whatever you want to call the divine principle (ancient Egyptians called it "Maat," meant to describe that which enables consciousness to become fully realized (i.e. "self-realized") and thus enable adherents to join the eternal form of Be-ing, as opposed to dying, rotting, and returning to the state of the uncarved block, i.e., to the state of base matter that is without order/harmony/truth/justice.
The ancients always referred to the period of disorder predating their own civilization, and we have seen a few widespread examples of civilizations collapsing and returning to the disordered state where puddling is the only mode of existence -- the sad state where awareness, in its ceaseless striving "to be*," "to "to be-come," is constantly "be-ing thwarted at every turn, and at sadly low levels. Where chaos rules, puddling is the best anyone can hope to do.
As innocent as children taking everything that gracious parents bestow upon us as "given" -- and "already given" and thus coming to us in a pipestream in a flow that will not cease, we should dearly and sweetly love and protect civilization as the source of order/harmony/truth/justice/Maat (with Maat being the state wherein all four conditions meet and coexist) -- perhaps we do not even know how rare and vulnerable the reign of Maat truly is.
If you think achieving self-realization, i.e. becoming a fully aware human in command of your own existence is difficult now, try it without a civilization in place.
Puddling is what happens when consciousness be-gins, as systems begin pooling together with local systems of order and little in the way of the justice/truth/harmony (and none of Maat).
Puddling is also what happens when systems collapse. As Yeats famously wrote, "things fall apart, the center will not hold . . . and what rough beast, it's hour come round at last, slouches toward Bethlehem to be born."
I started collecting images of puddlers puddling, and still do it occasionally, but they are far too readily available to require building a personal stock of them for use in illustrating these principles.
But here are a couple of images of puddlers I like.
I've never heard (or read) it said, but I think the great symbolic value of the scarab (dung beetle), the reason we see it worked in gold and lapis lazuli from the beginning to time to the present day, is that it is significant in the physical world as the very first step in existence ("be-ing") emerging from the state of the uncarved block (the chaotic, disordered state).
The scarab is the prime puddler.
I wear a scarab to remind me. At right is the one I received on my 51st birthday. Jerry bought it for me in a museum shop. It is a reproduction of an ancient piece.
I chose the other picture because my soul mourns for the females who must live beneath the veil. There is nothing in antiquity demanding females being shall disappear and remain nameless and voiceless as earth and field.
What makes me truly wild with grief is supposedly educated females who argue in favor of the veil, saying it represents improved women's rights over the way it was in the past.
What is meant by this is that they are protected from rape.
The current return to the veil for modern muslim females began in earnest after we started talking about "Palestine" for the first time in centuries (after the formation of modern Israel).
In the violent and ugly world of the Middle East at that time (and also today, in sadly many cases), rape, and the stealing of women, was rampant as were honor killings, clitorectomies, and slavery -- even in heaven, supposedly, where suicide bombers and other killers are supposedly to be rewarded by the possession of rooms full of virgin females).
Anyway, rather than expect males to accept that they would not in this life be allowed to rape and steal women, the solution chosen simply declared that the wearing of a headscarf would be the signal that a female is one that belongs to "us," and should be considered off limits to marauding males. Females without headscarfs being thus designated by default as "fair game," lots and lots of people decided that the headscarf was the way to go.
This solution evinces quintessential puddler mentality.
At the fat farm, as you probably know, if you have enjoyed the photographs below of naked and bare-breasted women, we prefer to express the beauty of the human form, to allow humanity to enjoy this freely, and thus become inured to the psychoses of repression which we see in the world today where women are veiled from head to foot and men are so crazy from their deprivation that now they become aroused beyond the hope of control because they have seen a bit of hair wafting in the breeze. And, this arousal, being felt in shame and sinfulness, is of course to be blamed on the female whose hair may have escaped into the daylight.
This is a description of just one of the many areas wherein the women, infants, children, craftsmen and artisans of Griselda's Fat Farm of Studio Art are above puddler level in their pursuit of the fully human existence.
Puddlers, flood your muddling pools and join the world of sense. It's still out there, at least for a little while.
_______ *When I first got my hands on type (as opposed to writing by hand on on a typewriter that had only one typeface), I started italicizing forms of the verb "to be. It was awesome to have italics to use freely, yet use of them were so relatively rare (unless you were being a jerk), I decided that I would sometimes, when writing in philosophical and metaphysical areas where the forms of the verb "to be are significant, I would begin italicizing my references to be-ing. I thought this clever and highly creative. Imagine my surprise when turning to the ancient texts (actually, at that time, almost exclusively, this meant THE BIBLE) to discover it was a commonplace to thus emphasize the forms of the verb "to be! I had just never noted it, especially, before. So much for the confidence that my own attempts at originality in creativity should in fact be-come of my own, and no other, mind.
2007-09-04 10:00:36 invasive marsh grass
I agree the phragmites is disgusting. It chokes out everything else -- plants and animals alike -- and destroys the belle vistas, replacing gorgeous marshlands with six-foot high monolithic patches of blind. It's a real shame.
2007-09-03 10:10:42 JupsSubob Cotonou
ORANJESTAD, Aruba - Felix rapidly strengthened into a dangerous Category 5 hurricane and churned through the Caribbean Sea on a path toward Central America, where forecasters said it could make landfall as "potentially catastrophic" storm. Felix was packing winds of up to 165 mph as it headed west, according to the U.S. National Hurricane Center. It was projected to skirt Honduras„ coastline on Tuesday before slamming into Belize on Wednesday. "As it stands, we„re still thinking that it will be a potentially catastrophic system in the early portions of this week, Tuesday evening, possibly affecting Honduras and then toward the coast of Belize," said Dave Roberts, a hurricane specialist at the center in Miami.
2007-09-02 08:46:24 invasive marsh grass
The Commonwealth of Massachusetts has stringent legislation protecting the marshes from commercial development, but the beauty of the marshes and their efficacy as a habitat for wildlife is being destroyed by the ugly weed pictured.
There are a lot of people talking about the problem, so I found discussions readily through the search engines.
"It's probably Phragmites, and it's more than likely a variety of P. australis (Common Reed) known as Phragmites "Haplotype M."
We wonder if there is anything being done by the cities and the town, or is the state involved with programs to stop the spread of this? Is there anything we can do? Donations? Volunteering? 2007-08-30 11:02:12 okay
Sorry for not checking in here that much recently. Thanks for nudges.
It's a little noisy outside at the moment, but only somewhat distracting. Last summer about this time the city paved the top end of our street, which is a single long block with 100 numbers on it. It was promised the bottom half would be done also, and I was beginning to doubt it, but here they are -- a whole year later -- stripping the old asphalt and preparing the surface for a brand new layer. It's much less noisy and dirty than I would have thought, and also apparently going to be completed very quickly. They began less than an hour ago, and all the stripping is complete.
The new pictures here were taken last night and the night before between 7 and 9:pm at Castle Island. I love it when the full moon rises before sun has set.
The evening breezes are delicious beyond description. The big sailboat is Spirit of Massachusetts, the 110' schooner we rented for our wedding ceremony. It's swell to see her plying the waters of a late summer evening -- very romantic, is it not?
I'm having a hard time resisting creatiing a panorama from last night's photos. I fear it wouldn't be a very good use of my time considering how little I have to show for this week so far, working to complete the first draft of the libretto for "Upside Downstairs."
Once it starts rolling, it shouldn't take that long to complete, but I am still at the stage of trying to force myself to sit at my desk and do nothing else for hours at a time.
There are far too many choices on the "things I want to do" list. For example, there is a 6'x5' space over my husband's desk that I have recently decided to fill with a single work of fiber art on a "mysteries of the forest" theme with gold lamČ underlays. On-hand stock of gold lamČ includes at least a dozen colors and textures from pale rose to deep bronze. Materials overlaying the base composition are various colors and translucencies of silks and other fibers that should be embroidered, tufted, ruched and otherwise worked with collected bits of barks, grasses and whatever else seems needed.
It will be as difficult to execute this piece as it is to write the libretto.
"Difficult" in both these cases means having to finally decide what to leave in and what to leave out, thus annihilating the unlimited potential it enjoys so long as it exists solely in the imagination.
Perhaps if I think of the libretto as something I am doing to avoid the wall-hanging, I will have a better chance of moving ahead on it.
I suppose there are those who will want to fault my dedication to literary art because of the propensity to persist in other fields. I suppose it may indeed be a fault.
But a couple of hours of watching pure dreck television (last Sunday, to be exact) nearly sent me over the brink, wondering what in the world I am doing pouring heart and soul into works for audiences some say do not even exist any more -- audiences who look for insight, beauty and perhaps eventual enlightenment through their entertainment.
However I know these audiences exist. I exist, eh! These heights are what I like to experience in entertainment. Perhaps writing is an act of faith that I am not alone in this.
At the same time, I am not prepared to get all the eggs for my creative wagers out of the same basket.
Having decided long ago I would not sacrifice happiness for art, I'm still hedging my bets.
2007-08-30 07:45:57 cllaagal
'su-uUUPP? #%^ whadya C
2007-08-22 23:47:26 Joshua
2007-08-20 22:27:45 Waldo Story Drinking Fountain
During the past week we drove some of the small highways of Massachusetts all the way to the end, a very pleasant way to vacation in New England.
In the town of Hopedale, on the east lawn of the public library stands this magnificent marble drinking fountain, sculpture by Waldo Story
a most astonishingly lifelike piece. Jerry and I couldn't stop taking pictures of this exquisite creation encountered so unexpectedly when traveling west on Highway 140.
2007-08-17 15:33:08 Mediacal
I don't know what happend? Where are you many?
2007-08-14 20:15:34 Jane
You have an outstanding good and well structured site.
2007-08-13 12:25:52 Richard email@example.com
2007-08-08 10:04:17 sacred mysteries
Once again I am off for NYC and very much looking forward to it. I expect the next ten days or so to be so busy that I will have no time to make entries here.
I do want to share some good advice that may sustain your interest in the coming week or so. First, however, I must assure you that the secrets of the inner sanctum at Griselda's are not violated by divulgence of any of this material. Much remains that is hidden, and however helpful the following letter may be, yet it is on the level of knowledge that may be disseminated freely and openly.
Once again, it concerns the areas of the sacred erotic, subjects that compel the correspondence of so many of the visitors to nine3.
Here is the letter:
Thanks for the beneficial and informative subject regarding 'injaculation'..I wasn't expecting that you'll bother to reply,.. As you know, aside from that, i'm so curious regarding the subject of sexuality..If you still don't mind,i'd like to ask your explanation regarding the other Taoist method of blocking the energy loss pathway; that is, by pressing the Jen mo#1 accupuncture point while sitting..Is it possible to preserve the semen for long period with that method?You you know like something you'll apply it while meditating..
Hope you don't mind,Thanks again..
The tao of sex is a meditative practice, so performing the deer exercise is consistent with activities and thoughts you encounter in the meditative state. In other words, you are meditating when you do the deer, and you may incorporate the deer into other meditative practices.
If thoughts are of a pornographic, fantasizing nature, these are obviously inconsistent with meditation and you should hope to find your way to an experience without this component. It is suggested you may begin by turning those thoughts of various pornographic or degrading actions to contemplation upon the erotic statuary of the lord buddha or erotic depictions of the hindi, which describe actions enabling and enhancing spiritual energy. Use of the deer and other traditions of spiritual sexual practices (such as the kama sutra) is intended as a powerful path to governing your existence and becoming fully self-realized.
You wrote for the first time back in May. Considering your letters from that period I would like to mention that if you are you still bothered with nocturnal emissions and you are performing the deer with a true purpose, then you should give yourself more time, trying to eliminate non-spiritual components such as pornography or various multi-tasking activities which your westernized intellect may consider a way to improve performance in some pursuit or other that is not strictly a spiritual inquiry.
I have observed that western culture has a propensity for multi-tasking. Your most recent note suggests you may indeed have a multi-tasking approach (because you wondered if you could do the deer while doing something else). When you are meditating, i.e., performing the deer with or without incorporation of other meditational traditions) your heart and mind should be without "multi-tasking." Try to learn to do one thing only at this time, i.e., quiet the mind, fine-tuning your physical instrument as a receiver of the vital life force which, under optimum circumstances, will be drawn into your body and understood by the autonomic nervous system (where the soul resides).
A wonderful thing to do which will divert the intellect from its habits is to perform the deer while counting by nines. It is my recollection that one text assures us that counting by nines is the way Nature counts.
Following is a diagram of one cycle of nines, with the figures "\" and "." representing action and cessation from action. Please remember: "When you act, then act. When you stop, then stop." Do these cycles multiple times daily.
/ / / / / / / / / /
/ / / / / / / / .
/ / / / / / / . .
/ / / / / / . . .
/ / / / / . . . .
/ / / / . . . . .
/ / / . . . . . .
/ / . . . . . . .
/ . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . /
. . . . . . . / /
. . . . . . / / /
. . . . . / / / /
. . . . / / / / /
. . . / / / / / /
. . / / / / / / /
. / / / / / / / /
The five rituals described pictorially at
are another excellent ("non-deer exercise") practice that will strengthen the body's system of glands, opening up a clear passage of vital life force energy up to the top of the head where the pineal rests like Sleeping Beauty, waiting for the kiss of higher awareness to enlighten your world.
Best wishes, in peace profound,
2007-08-05 12:05:14 arittavatull