1.2 Bardo Thödol
Bardo Thödol? Say what?
It sounds like something Swedish. Like: “can I have two pieces of knäckebröd, a black cøffee and one bardo thödol please?”
Could be nice if you could order it like this. Well actually we can in a way, but that's a different topic.
Bardo Thödol is the state of being beyond death and birth. To be more specific, Bardo is that place/state,
the Bardo Thödol is a scripture that has mapped the way to get there, also known as the Tibetan book of the Death.
Through various ways one can come there. A steady meditationpractice can do it. A good hit of acid is another.
Or you get as sick as a dog on rabies and float towards it while the foam is practically coming out of your mouth, which is what happened to my recently.
Now, I would say this belongs to the category “do not try this at home”. I mean, the other two methods are either less painful and/or much more fun,
but in due respect, it was as effective. Come to think of it, it might actually be a gap in the market. I call it,..transcendental flu yoga...
Could be the next hot thing. “I just did a flu ceremony last weekend”..
Anyway, one day I'm here feeling fine as a flangolagwing flamingo, next day i'm seeing myself taking place on what seemed to be set up as my deathbed.
“What kind of a sick joke is this?” I mean, they organized the whole chabang: monks where praying in the background, my favorite incense was lit,
the goldfishes I had when I was little had formed the string quartet. All for me? Well then..I guess it's my time.
So I'm lying on the couch, getting into a trance that would last, I know now, two full days. I'm looking at myself as if I am another being.
Pieces of the story, the investments of the self, come floating to the surface and are skimmed like cream on fat milk, leaving the immense depths of the ocean exposed.
I let myself fall into it and descend into the deep. Sound stops, everything becomes quite. Then I hear the monks again, but this time they are seethed next to my bed.
I'm hovering above, and looking down at a ritual, where I see myself lying in the middle, dead again. Only this time, it's a different body. The one I'm looking at is
from a past life, a female monk from the Himalayan Mountains. As I witness this ritual and hear the prayers of my fellow monks guide the way to the afterlife,
I become more ethereal and shapeless en start heading towards a new place. Neither higher, nor somewhere distant, more like smaller en even more here.
I am welcomed by the great white light. And as it immerses me in it, I surrender into Being, the Great Beyond,..I am home.
Leaving it all, yet becoming everything. No shape, nor form, yet being it all.
As in one second that lasts a lifetime, I am, pure silence, only being.
“Thank you for flying flu airlines, we hope you had a pleasant flight”
1.1 Coming out of the Closet
Coming out of the closet. I think I never fully grasped the concept.
I mean, it always felt like the most wonderful thing to be able to do: you're in this dark and damp,
crammed space for an awful long time,and then one day you find out that there is actually a door.
You reach for the handle, and when you open the door, for the first time in your life,
you see light shining through! Then when you slowly crawl out you discover to your utter amazement
that there is a whole world out there that you never even knew existed!
How liberating that must be!
But then..why is it, only gays are privileged to undertake this rite?
Surely everyone, has the opportunity to come out of their closet.
Being somewhat of a hippie myself, I've had luck with this whole closetstory.
When the time was there to construct it, I couldn't be bothered much. I rather took my time sitting in the sun,
playing music. So in the end, I just took a couple of pieces of wood lying around, tied them together with some string
and took my place in the makeshift structure. The rickety thing almost fell into pieces by just looking at it.
Guess that is what you call a win-win situation.
Now, some people, I heard, made their closest from marble walls, with a heavy solid wooden oak door it it.
And in that door, a big golden doorknob and a big golden lock that can only open with one of those mayor size keys.
And outside of that door, they placed two fierce and massive lions to guard the place.
Now how in God's name, can you ever get out of that!?
0.1 I AM
I am that I am.
I am that, yes, the blessing of God, blown into existence.
And in that I am God, the air, the blowing and the manifested.
I am a bearer of light, like the Olympian torchbearer, and I run,
to offer my flame to the great fire and ignite all others on my way.
I am a lighthouse seen from the distant sea. For those in the darkness,
I hold the light to guide them home, as others have done for me.
I am not as much a warrior as I am a guardian, a parent,
a caretaker, of the precious seed of life. For end of the war is nigh.
I lay down my weapons of anger, invulnerability, hatred and ignorance,
and stand up as a matured being. Doing just, caring for
and preparing the way for the next generation and our precious Mother Earth.
I am the child of Her, the Goddess. As she takes care of me,
I take care of her. We share love, life, laughter and tears together.
I am a poet, uttering the words of the divine.
I am a musician, playing the strings of the universe.
I am a dancer, dancing in the waves of life.
I am a teacher, pupil, lover, son and friend.
I am a man, your brother.
I am here, present and ready. Stumbling, yet getting up.
Mistaking, yet learning.
I am grateful, ever grateful. For each moment is a gift, a love displayed by the One,
for us to receive. And in that I am the receiving, I am God, I am love,
and I am a gift to the all of creation.
Dear Fellow Beings,
Thank you all for making your attendance, for I have an important announcement to make.
From this day on, I will be an Inspired Writer.
Whether my writings will be inspiring, will be evident, imminent. I don't even know if that's an
actual English sentence. But it just sounds so good together, don't you think? Evident, imminent...
Before us lies,..nothing. And from this nothing, something will most probably sprout into life.
At least, that is the intention, for I am now, an Inspired Writer. From blank pages,
black digital ink will rise and grow into stories and nail energy onto matter.
YOU, dear reader, can witness this event becoming, for every chapter will be released
right after written. Now I could make a marketing masterpiece of this, and promise you
that every Sunday at 7pm a new chapter will be released, but I know myself all to well,
and I'd better not make such promises. For writers are, next to pipe smokers, also artists.
And art does not bow to conventionalism.
I can, however, promise you that I will be embarking on a journey into the unknown.
And if you are to follow me, you will not only see the inside of my brain, but also venture
onto magical metaphysical landscapes and literary obscurities.
I hope you will join me on this journey, and if you like what you see,
please give me a thumbs-up and help me become someone I forgot I am already.