Discussing spiritual or mystical things more deeply

Discussion in 'Alternative' started by Cino, Mar 5, 2019.

  1. Cino

    Cino Big Love

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    Let's levitate for a change, then!

    It is true that I'm not much into speculation and like to test this kind of thing in the lab, as it were.

    But maybe I'm missing out on something. Which direction shall it be, Magistra?
     
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  2. Bhaktajan II

    Bhaktajan II Active Member

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    I have heard this
    Soul is speck of Brahman
    all one's own
    a cell of anti-matter
    Sat-cheet-ananda
    eternal-conscious-bliss
    incarnate soul vector
    all one's own to maneuver
    sojourning accrues
    artha, kama and dharma
    alas as Alfalfa said:
    the bigger they are the harder they fall

    So the soul seeks to animate the inert matter.
    karma works are done, karma fruits are earned
    and that's what make the world go round and round.
     
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  3. Cino

    Cino Big Love

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    Inching close to the well's rim
    Looking down through metal grating:
    Two beings on a landing below,
    Haplessly dangerous, locked away.

    On the windy grassland above
    Stagger white-clad, hooded figures.
    I sit in their path cross-legged,
    Muttering charms and benedictions.

    In the infinite tiled landscape,
    One indistinguishable honeycomb
    Is known to be exceptional.

    All the larvae wiggling in their cells,
    Randomly, in stochastic unison,
    Form an x-ray image of my skull.
     
  4. Bhaktajan II

    Bhaktajan II Active Member

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    In Greek mythology, the Titan Prometheus had a reputation as being something of a clever trickster and he famously gave the human race the gift of fire and the skill of metalwork, an action for which he was punished by Zeus, who ensured everyday that an eagle ate the liver of the Titan as he was helplessly chained to a ...

    Prometheus is chained to a rock in the Caucasus for eternity, where his liver is eaten daily by an eagle, only to be regenerated by night, due to his immortality. The eagleis a symbol of Zeus himself. Years later, the Greek hero Heracles (Hercules) slays theeagle and frees Prometheus from his torment (520–528).

    The wound proved incurable, and Chiron wished to die, but being immortal, he could not. It was then that Prometheus 1 offered himself to Zeus to be immortal in his stead, and the request being granted by the god, Chiron died and Prometheus obtained immortality.
     
  5. Cino

    Cino Big Love

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    No good deed goes unpunished
    The gods are no strangers to evil deeds
    Self-sacrifice is a contagious disease
    Incurable like hunger and thirst
    The shades of Tantalos and Euridice
    Live to tell the tale.

    All things subsist on nourishment
    We live off the fruit of our labor
    In the sweat of our brows

    Imagine Sisyphus a happy man
    For he beheld Zeus in his glory
    And now he shrugs at repeated misfortune.
     
    Last edited: Mar 7, 2019
  6. Cino

    Cino Big Love

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    The clear, open sky above the seven heavens is exquisitely dark and spacious, lit by a light much subtler than photons, which have nothing to illuminate out here. The moon never rose here, the sun is not known, darkness is nowhere to be seen.
     
  7. RJM Corbet

    RJM Corbet God Feeds the Ravens

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    A loop is what you're in
    when you get nowhere
    though you try

    Like a bee against a window
    you'll be stuck there
    till you die

    There is no real horizon
    where the ocean
    meets the sky

    You have to climb out of a loop
    To leave it, you must rise

    Then from beyond it's limits
    you may look back in surprise
    to see your loop was never there at all

    So what are you outside?
     
    Last edited: Mar 7, 2019
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  8. wil

    wil UNeyeR1

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    I like the lack of discussion in this thread, just the instigation of contemplation, feels koanish
     
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  9. Cino

    Cino Big Love

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    Cooing pigeons,
    Wind rushing through bare branches,
    Neighbor coughs,
    Rustling fabric,
    Dog scratches itself,
    All echoing through my brain, processing in perfect silence.
     
    Last edited: Mar 9, 2019
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  10. Craz

    Craz Active Member

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    Form:Formless?
    Spiritual, Physical?
    Who defines the boundaries of experience?. Thoughts of people.
    I see a continuum.

    Another time; it's always that
    Infinitely recursive without a base-case? or maybe not?
    Is this the ultimate question?!

    Perseverance in being, any rest?

    I awoke but has no sleep.
    I hear birds twitter where there are no birds.
    I taste a sweetness that calms; a characteristic of the primary form of existence?
    It is all too familiar, yet...

    Enough with questions
    Living reality as total; always changing.
    What? No absolute?
    Hypocrite, said no questions.
    Dayanu
     
    Last edited: Mar 9, 2019
  11. Bhaktajan II

    Bhaktajan II Active Member

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    Appreciate the invocations.

    I] Is there such a thing as absolute void? aka absolute Zero?
     
  12. Bhaktajan II

    Bhaktajan II Active Member

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    II] A RIDDLE:

    What is the name for something that
    possesses all power
    along with
    All wealth,
    all intelligence,
    all beauty,
    all fame and also be
    an absolute renunciate,
    all at the same time?
    All simultaneously to its ad-infinitum degree?

    Can you Name it?
     
  13. Cino

    Cino Big Love

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    The talking head
    The prophesying head
    The head declaiming honey-sweet verses
    The wise head, dispensing teachings
    The beloved's head

    Cut it off, gently, swiftly
    So as not to cause pain
    So as to protect it, that it may last a long time

    And place it carefully, tenderly
    To the left
    Not on the silver platter
    Not in a grail or casket
    But deeply into the Left

    And dance
     
  14. Craz

    Craz Active Member

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    Sarmad didn't let the loss of his head stop him from giving satsang.

    For full story see http://www.poetry-chaikhana.com/Poets/S/Sarmad/index.html
     
  15. Cino

    Cino Big Love

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  16. RJM Corbet

    RJM Corbet God Feeds the Ravens

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    [​IMG]

    Nature is the source of all material things: the maker, the means of making, and the thing made. Spirit is the source of all consciousness which feels pleasure and feels pain. The spirit of man when in nature feels the ever-changing conditions of nature. When he binds himself to things ever-changing, a good or evil fate whirls him round through life-in-death.

    But the Spirit Supreme in man is beyond fate. He watches, gives blessing, bears all, feels all. He is called the Lord Supreme and the Supreme Soul. He who knows in truth this Spirit and knows nature with its changing conditions, wherever this man may be he is no more whirled round by fate.

    Some by the Yoga of meditation, and by the grace of the Spirit, see the Spirit in themselves; some by the Yoga of the vision of Truth; and others by the Yoga of work. And yet there are others who do not know, but they hear from others and adore. They also cross beyond death, because of their devotion to words of Truth. Whatever is born, Arjuna, whether it moves or it moves not, know that it comes from the union of the field and the knower of the field.

    He who sees that the Lord of all is ever the same in all that is, immortal in the field of mortality – he sees the truth. And when a man sees that the God in himself is the same God in all that is, he hurts not himself by hurting others : then he goes indeed to the highest Path.

    He who sees that all work, everywhere, is only the work of nature; and that the Spirit watches this work – he sees the truth.

    Bhagavad Gita
    (Juan Mascaro translation)
    Chapter 13: 20-29



     
    Last edited: Mar 10, 2019
  17. The Artis Magistra

    The Artis Magistra Member

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    Wow! Cool thread! I'm honored to be mentioned or quoted in it up top.

    I was away from the forum in the hope the speed issues with it might be resolved or improved in the meantime, and they seem to have been.

    I may not fully understand what this thread, but it started with a question I could scarcely understand in the beginning. Its likely that my natural answer would be something like "Mine" said with hope and sinew tightening bracing.

    I think the basis for human spirituality has to be a view of nature, in particular its hideous brutality, and not to give in to too much aloe vera in an effort deceive oneself into thinking life is at all something worthy of the usual praise, but praise will come, and all those fervent religious sentiments, but in a new way after baring ones eyes without the protective goggles of thinking backwards from the point of the colloquial traditions of language and all those formalities. We will find words, and words to trigger emotions, but one can't find God from talk of the imaginary God, but only from seeing the real God, and behold what is irresistable and can not be tamed.

    Once its written by sages and filtered by approval, its a bit late, but suffering greets us as an early messenger every single day, and to numb oneself is not quite as successful as to become petty and petulant, and sensitive to every little tragedy of life, and then you'll be able to sort out a hierarchy and organize things to realize your place and your responsibility and where you stand, hopefully without exaggeration.

    The Lord above and the Lord below, none can see and none can know, except through what is done. Action is a name of the Lord. Its alive because it moves, and we're only pushed like things we otherwise call dead.

    So barring the acceptance of minds as anything, it is clear there is at the very least an appearance and notion and perception of shifting, and like a snake writhing before our eyes, its scale a moment, there is experience and we deem ourselves alive as we watch another thing move across a screen of sense.

    The Lord of who looks at himself through holes and says Mighty is the Mover through the music of some mouths opened to make such tunes.

    That is my only comfort with death, but its barely a comfort at all really. That what I think I am can be discarded and retrieved by whims I can not determine or hold, is only baring witness to victimhood, and moisture around slots is the only sympathy we can produce, not even anything which belongs to us but is produced upon what we think we are while we are far away from Nothing in vast delusions of lushness and life.

    The best dream is the one we can enjoy, continuously. The only hope anyone has is to forget we are dead and find good dreams, because waking is the rest.
     
  18. Cino

    Cino Big Love

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    The alleys of the ancient ruined city of my mind lead up shallow steps between steep walls where startling music echoes from entrances and the sky is a narrow band of stars high up above.
     
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