Riffin' On the Real

That which is real is unperishable. It is everlasting, and transcendental. By that I mean that most spiritually sophisticated takes on material reality ultimately end up saying that we are soul housed in the physical, an inconceivable entity larger than the parameters of measurement within the material existence flowing into said parameters…we are that which quality and quantity measure/inflect, but we are hopelessly larger than this, and arguably never fully check in on this side of life (which is kind of cynical; peak moments are by their very form few and far between, but they are literally what we live for, moments of a sense of wholeness…).

We struggle to experience our sense of self as of the real…to experience it in a true (absolute) and unyielding manner. We call the moments that we do achieve this grandiose things…transcendental communion… a spiritual experience… a miracle… moments of clairvoyant ability… Christ consciousness… merging into the collective…

In the early days of our young adulthood the spontaneous framings we attach to these moments are mostly self-referential…we call them moments of self-actualization; this is also the stage of life where the majority of our days is a grind in some fashion, relative to, per se, once we become vested appropriately in society a decade or so in. The older cats, who do tend to be more socioeconomically comfortable, for whatever reason are more apt to describe peak experiences in terms of an effective union…whether that be between them and the larger society, or a Divinity…

When we experience moments of the real, we describe it, spontaneously, in terms of remembrance…not learning. We know this to be true, those of us blessed to work within institutions/groups/scenarios where we enact time tested rituals which often induce spiritual experiences in others, most often self-voluntary practitioners (but not always; there are groups that work on unwitting people in public settings, fast and loose). People will naturally escape describing the phenomena in terms of direct causation… they didn’t learn… they just spontaneously changed psychological states in a drastic way and their sheer physicality turned on a dime…because of something deep, deep within them, ah yes…something long ago, somewhere way back…as if to loosely insinuate something at the very origin of your personal being…

It’s a funny kind of phenomena that plays you more than you play it, but if you abstract the hell out of its physical iterations/the observable details of it… it all seems to point back to a concept called “the Source”…

I guess that’s true of all expressions of the material…of “culture”…

I struggle immensely to pivot here into a layer of this crazy thing we call Life which will allow me to express what I really came here today to say. I breathe labored at a laptop and have a slight sense of “vertigo” or dizziness… I might be decent at writing but I’m not a genius… I still haven’t fully pinned down what vertigo necessarily is so I don’t want to self-diagnose…

The crass one in the room keeps yelling “There’s nothing special about Christ!” but the clickbait bastard really means that by the very structure of the subjective experience/because of the whole having a body thing, every action can be described absolutely. It means it all can be reduced to methodology…to physical mechanics occupying a physical space…you can draw it up and stuff…

That was part of the sheer awesomeness of Jesus…everything He did absolutely can be recreated by other people, when the situation is approached from such an approach. If you spend too much time in the wrong devotional circles, you might be filled with sense that He was a Singular sort of entity, above and apart from the rest of Mankind…and technically nobody was doing anything wrong or disrespectful anywhere in the frame (the peculiarity of the Christ is that he is the ideal so he technically probably is mostly above but never beyond), but an important aspect of the whole Christ experience fell somewhat a bit mute; it’s a perfect example that we can follow every bit of, his Life, when interpreted eloquently.

And to be honest with you, how many human beings out there purport to have worked a miracle, let alone can perform them as a social service when approached by those suffering, the way I fully know Christ did? Not many, and there’s a long list of weirdos/hacks…

There was a random prophet in the old testament, one who isn’t very famous/isn’t a major character in the Bible, who resurrects a dead child at the request of God the Father. Like…I feel like I could get in trouble with the Catholic Church for saying that, but actually they’re the ones who taught me it. It’s a thing in the Bible… resurrection was around before Jesus. Which like, explains human kind’s natural obsession with near death experiences, or outright reversing death (such as with true love’s kiss) in stories/movies… near death experiences are out there happening, and they seem meticulously labored over/scripted when really abstracted…take of that what you will, I suppose…

What I want to say first and foremost, to break tonally with the rest of this thing for a second… is that the entire Bible, which spans a long period of time, is riddled with miracles/overt divine interventions in the world/society. That we just lapse back into thinking that’s either the Bible being a work of creative fiction or as being a thing of the past that the societies within it are lousy with miracle is like a weird brain hiccup… think about our f*cked up world… things don’t really start to fall into place until you realize that like huge facets of pop culture even might just be the living enigma hiding in plain sight… and to engage it with conscious attention, to just kinda have some thoughts about things… to be mentally checked in at the social level (which we use entertainment and the arts to do; spontaneously the engagement of current events in the arts is like one of the primary forms of entertainment on tv) keeps this whole damn thing afloat…

Miracles are happening. It turns out that’s like what most adult drug trips really are…they aren’t positive, but like they are weirdly energetically loaded things that impart deep transcendental insights… your local crackhead, if exhibiting symptoms of psychosis, might be deep, deep in the core of whatever it is that actually determines the shape of your life… and that’s just like, somehow, always what the crack high actually was…there’s no functionality or upswing to that fact, but to think they might be mere centimeters from your exposed, fleshy, beating heart…

Miracles are happening. But arguably the whole point of moral imperatives is to cultivate people into making them happen, of their own accord, rather than experiencing them. And it comes down to methodology. That method is perfectly charted in sophisticated works of spirituality spanning a number of the world’s religions…Church dogma is wrong. It is enough to say that Buddhist/Hindu doctrine are perfect…but then again reincarnation doesn’t happen and there isn’t actually a universal prohibition on meat… so it takes some mastery/accrued wisdom/bombastic leadership.

I recommend directly studying Transcendentalism. I suggest you look into materials from the Hare Krishna movement.

To anticipate some reservations with my perspectives… I am a young person’s writer. Coping with illness isn’t something on my radar. It’s something I know how to do, and I know how to expound upon viewing personal limits, medical or social, in terms of personal destiny/God’s will and how to integrate them effectively into one’s identity…

But that isn’t me at the moment. I am younger than I actually am, and very much so. I am 33, but physically I make my 23 year old self look like a slug.

I am a bastard, too, which is something no one who has ever known me thought possible. I can’t count the number of times as of late I’ve been that ship in a bottle, see-sawing waves, the bottle lopping slowly from one ear-end to the next, that I’ve comprehensively flipped the entire approach from conventions of honor to dishonor, from hero to anti-hero, and back again…and been absolutely, universally endowed… undeniably as right across each ticking second, each phrasing, as any other… that which is needed, like medicine for the hurt, the fucking core of the Earth…

The shape of Man, himself.

This happens to the stars, doesn’t it? The creators… the example they’re expected to set somehow has to straddle that line between compliance and universal truth. The job they’re given by universe itself demands they stir it up… and thankfully, we’re a pretty lax nation that loves a good controversy…

That which is Real is unyielding. It’s eternal. It’s fixed in the spot in which it will remain. Our medicine is derived from it, and healers tap into it by different means to perform their services. I’ve seen miles traversed in moments, dead stretches…utter remissions… and others, I’ve seen jump into the abyss and never fully land. Sorcerers are few and far between, but they are real, and they are known to us, even, whether we view them in such terms…it seems highly improbable, but there are individuals of reputation out there covering a range of job functions who just have that magnetism, and are working a beat of “Oneness” in some effective fashion…

Like Hollywood…

Turns out those people are some serious try-hards…

(Some would say this is what all jobs do when the person is actualized)

Has anyone considered that the arts work? A huge part of the guiding philosophy at the administrative level is that the arts will enlighten the population… I think, perhaps, the population sort of underestimates the practical implications of enlightenment…

I digress.

A group of grown men crouched low at the tires of a Sedan amongst a row in dark parking lot in a grassy field on a summer night in Iowa could jump you from the very four corners of your visual field and obliterate your body until you are dead. They could revive you by having a man with a strong beard read a mountain poem huddled low over your form, and having returned from tasting every taste and having seen every scene that even yet has come to be… not as sense perceptions, but as the very foundation of your Being… you would still feel just as compelled to flaunt your obvious superiority over everybody you suspect is inferior to you in the context at hand as ever before…but maybe they were counting on that, and they turned you into some sort of vicious attack dog…

The perfect soldier…they understood the human psychology…and how to effectively work with it…

I wish I could say these things don’t happen. They don’t seem like they could ever be tucked away in any old space in any old corner of the night, on the so-and-so’s farm… down upon the banks of the Ganges… these things happen.

Visions in the jungle. They are, by the simple definition of it, Real… and usually socially regarded as not of this world.

Somehow, amongst all of these creeps and freaks, only some of which are even self-aware (which, frankly, is just like a mirror of what’s going on with the larger society)… they’re mine. Which is somehow next level audaciousness banking on such a red-hot loaded notion…the boss has already been here, man. Long ago… somewhere deep, deep in this person’s past.

The idea that we’ve all been touched by something that hasn’t been engaged effectively socially at all, and as such, has grown decrepit in mis-attention somewhere deep within our psyches as individuals…

The compulsion to use cryptic and bold speaking patterns, to defy expectation just enough, to steal every bit of the show like a red faced dog of a carnival barker, I literally can’t rest on listening. The thing being expected of me is vision. I’m supposed to somehow string this together. To be honest with you, it’s all a wash…what is perception but listening? But I’m to have some sort of plan beyond the universal form which ensures grace. And the kind of one that makes boys voluntarily run into their manhoods…

Frankly, we could either be in the world where the meat prohibition is inescapable…or we could live in the world where God is no longer dead…there’s a lesson there. It’s those blind adherences to the institutional rules, particularly in situations where people were suffering and needed guidance…parents of heroin addicts…things of that nature…(priests in this area when first confronted with the heroin issue were supremely concerned with how to relay with a soft touch that the official dogmatic stance is that that is a form of suicide and may actually warrant damnation, let’s hope not….but its our job to let you know its possible…) that put people at ends with the Church and eventually drove in this great secular era that we live in. There’s a way to do this all that is entirely exciting/uplifting. And that’s what I do.

When you intentionally leave tradition behind, maybe even sell some mud flaps of a cartoon me pissing on it immediately after kicking up a cloud of dirt its still enveloped in, and face the actual down and outs of the day, you get something like me. All I do tends to the garden. And in certain circles, if you haven't died yet, you're an academic.

The only thing that truly determines value in our economy really is, at the deepest level, God, or even just the concept of. The idea that it would be anything but the most stimulating thing to man, spirituality, is a sign of the times… we live in some bunk ass times.

As in let’s get stoned and listen to Pink Floyd at the planetarium. I know of this cow farm man…

I’m 33. I have my sunglasses on. I’m keeping my figure as conventionally attractive as possible, by extreme means, like any morally decent young person… I’m trying to lead a revolution, man, and with my sheer sexuality at that...

Specifically by speaking to those quiet moments of oddity…the kind we never hardly even seem to personally recall or are compulsed to express socially… the moments we know that there’s a presence and that we’re in its vicinity…I think all of our lives are riddled with moments as such (I think sexual moments also tend to sorta be loaded like this). This is the fertile ground because it turns them inwards and it also grounds them universally. It gives one a proper sense of the true way to effectively engage the material body… turn inward.

Sexuality stresses mid-life that feedback loops are paramount. Culturally we act like we need to develop a sensibility which can war against what them there hormones are telling the kids, and this is a hilariously devastating response because the entire game is set up to find a reason to strip the adults of the accountability and give the kids the responsibility and and and...

Suddenly you realize the old ones had sent-away for that very thing you came to call a pariah, and with good reason...