Normal things made dirty

"Can I have some almond milk?"
"Of course. You can have as much of my nut milk as you want. Straight from the tap"

I have no idea where this came from

She had slender legs, like a swan.

But not a swan's legs, no, her legs were like the swan's neck, soft white, supple, rounding and swelling as the neck met the body and the legs met the butt.   She had green eye shadow, deftly applied, and her lids drooped indolently.  She was thin.   Ballet dancers are often unhealthily thin.  Ballet teachers are often unhealthily cold bitches.  The two go together.  You can expect a cold bitch ballet teacher to say to one of her girls, "you're getting kind of fat there.  I think soon you'll barely fit into your leotard."  And you can expect the impressionable ballet girls to take the comment like an arrow to there heart, embedded for years, festering and radiating out in all aspects of their life.  Ballet is an art for people who hate themselves.

But people who hate themselves are an easy target for other people who want things from them.

Brusequa was one such man-boy. He wanted pussy. Not literally.  Certainly he wanted to insert his prick into some female reproductive anatomy, but beyond that, he wanted the manly conquest of doing so, the status, the power, the smug sense of self worth that came from having stories about women submitting to him, letting him, begging him to give it to them.   Brusequa was, is, not a sympathetic character then, but to someone who had not been introduced to him via this open and truthful portrayal, he would be seen as clean, pleasant, and agreeable.  He had good manners.   He had a handsome body marred only by a too long neck that was an asset to the ballet and a too big nose that was a punishment by his author.  Something to keep him from looking to good, being to self-confident.

Don't think this made him appear humble, no, it made him present himself as even more prideful.  But it was just a tad bit of an act.  Not totally believed, for who could love that gargantuan nose.

Needless to say, he got the ladies he sook with his entry into the world of ballet. Men are always in short supply, so he could be a prima donna much of the time.  And being around all those women, so insecure about their pudgy, bloated waists that were almost as wide around as there wrists.  Oh la la.

"Francqua, Francqua, you must be joking. Oh girl, you are a silly creature."

"Oh, Brusqua, don't taunt me so.  I'm serious.  I'm practicing my part."

"It can't be.   Look at that frolicking.   You look perfectly ridiculous."

"Oh don't say such a thing.  Here, let me show you."

And the delicate creature proceeded to dance for smug Brusequa.

[writers note: what the shit is this? I'm so fucking tired. I just wanted to write something today. but ...must...sleep. faaaiilling.

sleep]

Tantra pt. 2

upon further reflection, I think the solution to all these questions is simply to listen to my heart as the situation comes. No hard fast rules. Those are useful as training wheels, but the goal I am moving towards is to be able to hear and respect the voice of wisdom within me. No "sex is bad" or "sex is good" or anything else, for that matter. What is the appropriate response in the moment. That is the answer.

And that is a matter of sensitivity and working through all the issues that keeps us from being in constant contact with that inner voice, and doubting it or fearing it or not trusting it.

And that, I'm sure, is true Tantra.

Modern Day Tantra

I've just been looking at some modern tantric teachers, because I've got some sexual blocks and relationship blocks, and am looking for ways to deal with and heal these things.

It's a mixed bag. There is truth mixed in with untruth, which is always a dangerous combo. All I know is, my inner voice tells me to steer clear. Which is sad, for mr. happy.

Here is the basic dichotomy I face, dealing with modern tantrics:

Sex in general, as it's dealt with today, is generally a spiritual no-no. There is definitely spiritually awesome, God approved sex. And it's the best sex you'll ever have, far and away, because it's not just a physical thing, but a union of all levels of two people. But that's not too common.

Repression of sexuality, is also a spiritual no-no. And whereas meaningless sex is kind of a wast of time, sexual repression is a serious problem that can lead to deep imbalances and suffering.

I'm looking for the balance point, and I think it might not be halfway between the two ends of the sex spectrum, but up on the Y axis of me just being authentic with myself. I think people who say all sex is good and you should have as much of it as possible, are very unbalanced, but just as unbalanced are those that say sex is a bad bad thing and should never be done out of wedlock. That's retarded. I can't express how retarded that is.

"Marriage" as a legal or religious institution is a hollow shell of something real and organic that has been forgotten long ago. Fuck the law. I guess it's necessary, cus our relationships are so screwed up, people who marry each other end up often hating each other's guts and need police officers to make sure the money is divided up properly. I guess I need to give a bit of respect to the current systems, as "the worst system out there, except all the others." that is, it's pretty fucked up, but so are we, and that's why it's in place.

That said, the system is for the median of the population, minus the 20 years it takes for the law to change. But individuals should remember that as they grow and exceed the evolution of the median, they should not lower there spiritual IQ by following general consensus. I think there's something to be said for lifetime pair bonding. However, having a law constrain someone else to behave how you want them to, is stupid. If the only thing stopping your significant other from pursing sex with other people is a law, then you've got some basic problems with the relationship. You shouldn't need a law for that, in a functional relationship.

Now, I'm sure true Tantra can work for enlightenment, via sex. I don't think I've heard from a true tantric master though. And that means, mixed in with the truth of what is being taught, is egoic desires. Which is fine and business as usual, as long as they are honestly recognized as egoic desires, attachements, stuff that needs work, needs healing, needs light. But when you use your spirituality to say those issues are "ok", then you've just diverged from the path of truth, and taken a side trip down ego-penis lane. Which, hey, fine, if that's what you want to do, enjoy the trip.

But I don't want to divert from truth.

And frankly, it's not super appealing, at this point, because it is crystal clear to me, at this point in my growth, that there ain't anything in this world that's going to make me happy in that deep sense my heart longs for. Whether it's the craziest orgasm you can imagine, or being worshiped as a sexual god. Hey, shit, that would be fun, no doubt. But, like everything, it would get old. For some people, that takes a while, maybe years. For me, usually a few seconds is enough.

Now, I can enjoy things. But that is secondary to my inner state. Which is determined not by what I'm enjoying, but by what I'm believing. By the inner parts of me that are hurting, constantly. And no outer thing is going to make those inner parts change. It will at best feed them, for a while, or maybe make them find a different thing to feel bad about.

Look at people at the top of the world, physically, financially, etc, and you'll see a lot of unhappy people. maybe even more than average.

There's still a voice in me that says, "go have sex with hot women, then you'll be happy." The difference between now and five years ago is, I'm clear now, that this voice is mistaken.

What is it we are really looking for? What is it we are really afraid of?

You have to answer this question for yourself, but when I look for it, there is a deep, deep as time itself, yearning for something truly meaningful. For something full of love and gratitude and kindness. For something beautiful. And the fear is one of meaninglessness. Emptiness.

That is not something a new toy can give me, it's only something I can give me. It's like, the problem's not in the object seen, it's in the lens. I've got vaseline on my glasses, and I'm looking for some tasty food. I see sex, and that looks tasty, the way the vaseline warps it, but I try some and it's good, but not filling, and I look at other stuff and it looks really gross. When I wipe my glasses clean, I see that everything before me is part of a delicious feast, and I am full because everything within arms reach nourishes me.

This is the phrase: the wise are content with that which comes to them, unasked.

Simply, you are able to enjoy, appreciate, whatever comes to you, in life. And in that state, you can be established in perfect integrity with yourself, because there is nothing specific that you want so much you are willing to give up integrity to get it. Which means your life gets to feel fulfilling and meaningful and 'right'.

well, it's late and I've got a big day tomorrow.

love, to all you random voyeurs out there. And to my friends.

i

Mmmmm. Juice.

Today, we talk about the juicy stuff.

literally juicy.

No, not that litteral. No juicing apparatus.

Sex.

We talk about sex.

I've not talked about sex for a while.

Mostly, I just do it.

Sex.

No, not with other people. Prostitution is illegal most of the time, and frankly, I'm too embarrassed to try something like that, especially when I have other, much simpler and less dangerous options, like onanism. (Not the biblical one.)

and porn.

Women.

Women short and tall, rubenesque and skinny, blond an brunet and raven and red, scantily clad or fancily decorated. good girls bad girls sweet girls mean girls.

pretty girls.

I want to have sex with them.

Well congratulations Isaac, you've entered the 9/10ths of the entire male population club.

I don't want to have sex with them.

Wait, what do you mean by that? Why the hell wouldn't you want to have sex with them if you're not gay? You're swerving into some much less populated demographics.

I mean, what I want from them, isn't what sex is.

Well, sex can mean a lot of things. We've got all kinds of sex, my boy. All kinds. Maybe you just haven't found the right flavor yet.

Perhaps. But I intuitively feel that what I'm searching for, what gets spiked whenever I see something feminine and attractive, doesn't really fit into that word, sex. I think that because I have access to the internet, and frankly, if it was just a certain kind of sex, I probably would have found it, by now. You see, the thing is, I don't know what it is, that I'm looking for. All I know is that, regular as old faithful, I start getting this violent swirling of energy inside me, like a whirlpool, like a hurricane. It wants... something. Wants to do something. And seeing beautiful woman, makes it want to do that something, even more.

Porn now, porn is simple. When I was younger, it was new. And that was good enough. I like novel experiences. I like masturbation. It's fun. As a teenager, it was pretty close to essential, to keep me from going crazy. And it was fascinating. However, what I've noticed nowadays, is that if it wasn't for porn, I wouldn't masturbate nearly as much. Which is interesting, because the sexual energy inside me is still strong, and I'd be spending a lot of time uncomfortably energized, just because I didn't care enough to fix the problem through a simple bout of strangling the dolphin.

That's odd, that is. The only conclusion I could come to about this, is that my horniness isn't distinctly, well, sexual. In order to get rid of that energy, via sexual release, I have to actually change the quality of that energy, from something pre-sexual, into sexual, via looking at pictures of people having sex. I suppose I should deeply thank porn, because without it I would be significantly more hot and bothered than I am now. Porn, and the subsequent masturbation, gives me contentment and release, even if just temporarily. Sometimes guilt too, but that bit, I've found, is optional.

Well, is there something else I could be putting this... well, energy, to use in? I think actually yes is the answer. I think I could. But there's something stopping me. something that would be very nice to deal with:

Failure.

made popular in Isaac-vile by

Rejection.

There are all sorts of cool things I could be doing, but I don't want to do them, even as I desperately want to do them, because I am terrified of failing, yet again. Afraid of being rejected. Somewhere along the line, I got told, or shown, that when I didn't succeed at something, when I "sinned", it meant that I was a bad person. I "took it personally."

you know, there are some people, I'm thinking of certain olympic athletes, but they're in every field, who excel in their field, not because they are just naturally the best, though they are predisposed for what they do, but because someone taught them good as a kid, and they learned that everything is a lesson, and there is no such thing as failure, as long as you learn from your mistakes. And bless there little hearts, they believed it, and they became super awesome because when they fell off the horse, they'd get back on.

Me, not so much. I fall off the horse, I generally stay off the horse. Maybe take up cricket. Something less predisposed to falling.

what the fuck, ay? Obviously I "know better."

fuck you, me. It doesn't matter if I "know better." because I feel worse.

Your little precious intellectual sound bites?

worthless, by themselves. Worse than worthless, when you use them to tell yourself how you are a bad person.

What matters is not what you think, but what you feel and what you do. And that has to do with what you really believe. Which is not what you think.

"well Isaac" you say, "why don't you get off your whining ass and do something to change your belief and feelings about this, rather than just complain about it."

Slap to the face. first for being dickish. Second because this is what I am doing, right now: it just so happens that writing is a pretty good way to get clear on things and process through them, if done with intent. And this blog is nothing if not a showcase of process. And occasional off-color jokes.

Well, I think I'm done for the night. Or the morning, as our weird system of am and pm would have it. I'll probably come back to this, unless I decide to rant in a different, more private journal instead.

I'll leave you with something wonderful:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Xe1a1wHxTyo

from the Brihadaranyaka Upanishad

"In the beginning was the Self alone, in the form of Purusha, the mighty Person.

In previous times (purva) he burnt up (ush) all evil, thus he is called Purusha.

With this knowledge one devours all rivals.

Looking around, he saw no one else.

Then Purusha spoke, and his first words were: "I am."

Thus was I-ness born.

And even now, when a person is asked, "who is it?" he replies first "It is I," and then adds his name.

But then Purusha became frightened--as even now we become frightened when alone.

He thought to himself:

"Since there is nothing but myself, what is there to be frightened of?"

Thereupon his fears dissolved, as he realized they were groundless.

For truly, fear is born of duality.

But still he was not happy, for there is no happiness in being alone.

He wanted a companion, so he grew as large as a man and woman entwined, and then divided himself in two, creating a husband and a wife.

(For, as Yajnyavalkya used to say, this body is but half of oneself, the other half is woman.)

Thus his emptiness was filled by a woman.

They came together again, and from there union were born all people.

But then the woman thought:

"How could he join with me when he has created me from himself? I must hide."

So she took the form of a cow, but he took the form of a bull, and joined with her again.

And from their union were born all cows.

Then she took the form of a mare, but he took the form of a stallion and joined with her again.

Then [fuck this repetitive shit. they do the same thing for "ass's (seriously, that's the translation. I assume they mean donkeys. goats, sheep]

In this way he created the male and female of all creatures--even down to the ants.

Then he thought:

"Truly, I am the whole creation, for I have created everything from my own Self.:

Hence he is called Shrishi, the creator.

Whoever awakens to this become as great as Purusha in his own creation.

---

this is a little excerpt I just read from Alistair Shearer and Peter Russell's translation.

some of it's a bit weird and maybe there's a cultural context I'm missing, but I quite like it as a creation story, as it relates to me intimately. It also works with the title/theme of this blog. I kind of like the idea that God doesn't like being lonely either. And that he does like having sex, alot.

:D

-IO

Cabo and Ho's

I'm in San Lucas, Cabo. Which is in Mexico. it's the southern dongle hanging off of california. I'm in a villa with family and extended family. It is really, really pretty. I should be lazy and just take some pictures rather than trying to describe it. Though honesty, that's more work right now, so I will briefly describe it: beautiful weather. 70's even at night, dipping down to maybe high fifty's last night when it rained (very unusual this time of year, or at all, I think.) The villa I'm in is built on the side of a cliff, with huge windows everywhere and open air spaces to take in the awesome view of sea and sky. The cave area which I occupy, at the bottom of the structure is built into the rock face, and they've left the beautiful rock that the cliff is made of, and worked around it, so it is the back wall. the front wall being glass and sea behond that. the architecture is nicely plastered concrete, arches, pillars, porches, a pool on the main balcony (small one) and vases and pots with plants in them. Rock or imitation rock floor.

The air is pure, fresh, teh sky is crystal clear or artistically cloudy. The whole thing feels so opulent it gives the sensation of lazy sex. Just lying around all day, being pleasured. I normally don't like expensive things, because they are so obviously ridiculous, and not worth a fraction of what they cost. In this case though, I am very happy to be able to inhabit what feels like a structure from my own personal fantasy. unfortunately I'm here with family instead of alone with a lover.

I just walked around the town below us, and it was predictably sad. not India sad, but the whole place was built around tourism. People wandering the streets, asking everyone if they wanted to buy random crappy souvenirs. And we, the tourists, are the enablers. Oh, and the "massage" parlors. I was suspicious of them, until I saw one with a sign that said something like, "NO SEXUAL massage parlor. Only actual massage" Then I was no longer suspicious, but confirmed. And while it was a little bit tempting, mexican women often being quite beautiful, mainly it was a downer; this was what tourism was doing, metaphorically, to the entire population. somehow modern civilization has convinced these people to sell their natural beauty, their lands natural beauty and bounty, for money. and now all they do is spend there time serving forginers. being maids, being waiters, being taxi drivers, being prostitutes. For what? For bare minimum sustenance in a toxic environment.

But, thinking about it, how is most of society different? we have that shittyness here in america too. we just have a bit less of it. And a lot of those rich tourists are spending their one week of the year here, only to go back to soul crushing, relationship killing work rutiens.

this is not the only possibility. but parts of it are almost omnipresent. And how happy are the rich people? generally, they live lives of quiet desperation just like the poor. They just have to try and distract themselves from it by other means, like buying new toys, etc, to keep from being alone and undistracted long enough to gaze into the empty meaningless hole that is there life. which would actually be a good thing, because maybe they would try and change that, and maybe, if they succeeded, they'd stop being so horrified of death.

I don't care how you do it, but if you are reading this, please strive to live a life that is full of real happiness, deep love, purpose and fulfillment. This is a selfish request, because it makes me very sad seeing people who have never lived. People who will have nothing to show, come their last day. People who have not even seen the incredible majesty and been humbled by the love and beauty surrounding them every second of every day. It makes me want to cry. It's like watching jesus, insane and amnesiatic, crawling around in the mud, the servant of violent animals.

How could you not cry, seeing this? God danmmit jesus, snap out of it!

I'm going to go stare off at the intoxicating horizon of night now. deep blue sea meeting a slightly lighter deep blue sky, with wisps of clouds lit by the almost full, dazzelingly bright moon, and the shimmering stars that tear my heart out with beauty like the best women do.

The beauty used to hurt, because I thought I was supposed to do something about it, and I was so inadequate to the task of reciprocating or even appreciating such overabundance.

bye for now. if any women in the area read this and want to have some opulent sex, drop me a line.
:D

-I Out

I've found religeon

i thank You God for most this amazing
day:for the leaping greenly spirits of trees
and a blue true dream of sky; and for everything
which is natural which is infinite which is yes

(i who have died am alive again today,
and this is the sun's birthday; this is the birth
day of life and of love and wings: and of the gay
great happening illimitably earth)

how should tasting touching hearing seeing
breathing any--lifted from the no
of all nothing--human merely being
doubt unimaginable You?

(now the ears of my ears awake and
now the eyes of my eyes are opened)


-- e. e. cummings


















photo photo-shopped by David Murphy


I always thought of religion mainly as the cause of those hideously boring Sunday-school sessions. When I thought of religion I thought of people murmuring nonsense sounds while trying to feel really bad about themselves so Big Daddy wouldn't get pissed off and thunderbolt their ass. Or if they actually knew what they were saying, it was basically an attempt to suck up to God to get what they wanted. But that was only on the rare occasions they were really screwed and had no other options. Most of the time it was just a strange social obligation. Go to church/synagogue because I say so, go because other people with think badly of me if you don't go.

There was some value in the holiday rituals I participated in, but it was slight. And so religion for me growing up was just an additional social responsibility, like showering and not saying things that made people uncomfortable.

Just recently, I discovered what religion is actually supposed to be about. I was having a deep conversation with a friend, and suddenly in a surprised voice they said, "oh wow, look at the sun." and I did, and it was gorgeous. I felt such satisfaction, taking in the beauty, that I just felt a spontaneous urge to thank the creator of that sunset. Like a pretty girl unexpectedly kissing me on the cheek, I felt excited and happy and affectionate back. I wanted to give God a hug or a smile or something.

That's what real prayer is. Not brown-nosing God like he's a boss you're trying to get a raise from. Finally all those prayers praising God made sense.

I'm still staying away from institutionalized religion, but I'm beginning to get a sense of the impulse that originally created these religions, these traditions. It started with someone who had a personal relationship with God, like you might with a best friend or a dog. Then weirdos saw that person, and tried to emulate his actions, rather than trying to understand his feelings.

Analogy: Someone is covered is fire ants and is flailing around, rolling on the ground, trying to get them off. Person A sees him, says, "oh, that man is a great man, I want to be like him." and starts failing around, imitating the ant-covered man. Person Z comes by, sees the flailing man, says to himself, "my that's strange, why is he flailing like that?" and investigates, discovering that it is because the man is covered in ants. This second observer then notices the ant mound and avoids it. If we want to explain the analogy, let's say, for example, Jesus is the man covered in ants, the people who codified him into a religion are the ant dancers, and the people who discovered the ants are the mystics and the truly religious.

A simpler analogy: let's say knowing God is like having an orgasm. People see someone have an orgasm, say, "I want to get me some of that," and start copying the persons "O" face and grunting sounds. Meanwhile, the serious seekers start learning about sex. Often times the "O" face copiers get pissed off, frightened, disgusted, or jealous (usually a bit of all of 'em) and try to kill the perverts (read: mystics) or drive them out of town. Too bad, because if they would just stick around, they might get laid.

:D

-I out

The Truth

If you are, like me, a devout seeker of Truth, you are going to have to spend a lot of time first getting to know Truth's slutty younger sister, Unknown. The Unknown is like the town bicycle, she's always available, everyone has been with her, and she never says no if someone wants more.

The Truth, on the other hand, is beyond your reach. She's busy with older guys, often orientals with large beards. Passing her in the hallway, you barely manege to mumble out a word of greeting with your face down, which she doesn't even hear. At night you have wet dreams joining with her and living happily ever after with your beautiful children Joy, Purpose, Power and Greatness.

In the morning you wake up with an False Concept in bed with you that the harsh light of day is not flattering to, and a sense of remorse for being unfaithful to your crush.

If you become friends with Unknown though, something very few have the courage to do, she will eventually introduce you to her sister, who it turns out is just an ordinary person after all. Your preconceptions of her shattered, you can finally become friends with Truth, the real Truth, not the idealized concept you had in your head.

She's extraordinarily needy and jealous, it turns out, and I'm starting to wonder if I can handle her. I suppose there's always her willing younger sister ;)

Beard

Shaved my beard.

Partly because it was butt fugly, partly because it was a bad representation of what I felt like, and partly because I just picked up a scissors and started cutting without really thinking about it. It was fun, cutting off the huge clumps that stuck together. I have to find someone to give it to. Someone who can't grow a good beard of there own. And has a good enough sense of humor to laugh, not cry.

I think perhaps you, who hear my words but don't see my face, know me better inside than those who picture my mug when thinking of me. What I feel like inside is not well expressed outside. The best way to express most of what I look like from my point of view is through abstract paintings. Angry half-dry brush strokes of red with neatly lined up dot/nipples of blue, super imposed over lurking, childish line drawings of genitalia.

Hell, I should make that painting, if just to be able to give people an answer to the question, "how are you?" If only I had room for a painting studio. I need an apartment. Or even better, a house and some land. I want to start making my garden paradise now, before I actually have to rely on it for food. Fruit trees take time to start bearing.