Lao Tzu Kicked Out of the City

Chalking his hand
Looking toward that 300 score
Lao Tzu had a hissy fit:
They ran out of Budweiser.

Dog Zen is easy
But you still have to do it.
Your way is hard
But you still have to stop it.

After you begin the beating of the bushes
Rip out roots, just to make sure.
Still, you'll have to use the chemicals,
Even still, you won't be close to pure.

Dead roots point a shine toward infinity
Looking from the back, clockwise becomes counter:
You can't fool me again, no friend would hold lies
No mixing is allowed without the chan master's affinity.

While this wild plant, it silently grows
The fraud primps and arranges the styles that he chose,
Further and further back from his chance:
He never entered into the source of romance.

If there's one lick of passion in your blood
You'll take to roaming with the dharma thugs
Where you'll learn the chod that cuts the bone:
Then again, the odds are you'll stay home.

Gold, a bad choice,
Steel is better.
How you 'spect to get around
Up there on that ladder?

Glory to God our Father in Heaven
Yes, just the way that it already is!
Our meal ends in a toast, better than ever
Ain't no complaints in this line of biz.

Schmoogley's Risk

Reaching out to make others feel good
Doesn't end their continuation as morons.
Reaching to help yet another, the first falls back:
How are you going to explain that to your real Mom?
How can you say that God is good?

The girl danced and danced: I trust her truth
She forgot how she was supposed to be
Forgetting to help, she takes the great risk
So to spin the world off its trajectory
Exposing old heroes as ordinary spooks.

The cat got chased without a dog zen thought.
The redneck doesn't care much for Superman's tights.
As Schmoogley boy would like a bone today,
Mr. Whitman has boldly declared his delights,
And the dancer she shakes, caring not what she ought.

While all must love, the chosen let it go,
Knowing the difference between leaves and the wood,
One is pecked off, the other stays.
The vow is the remnant of the magic good
The pith, not the fluff, the wise do know.

The Life of a Seed

At on time there was a poppy seed who liked to do some thinking from deep within its mother-flower.

The seed was in a melancholy mood and was considering his days to come. "Now why is it that I'm so put off with the idea of falling to the earth and becoming a duplicate flower?" he thought, as always, to himself. "I'm uncomfortable with the whole idea. I wish to be something special, something unique. I refuse to follow the pattern of my ancestors. I must be free to choose. I must have access to my destiny!"

Suddenly a robin appeared, and brushing against the mother poppy, caused many seeds to spill from the flower and into the open air. Our seed friend went flying, as did many of his brothers and sisters, over and down to the earth below.

After a brief journey of about five human hand lengths, our little friend bounced to and fro, quicker than most eyes could see, and ended up being seated comfortably in in a small grey indentation there in his mother's meadow. He thought, "Well, that wasn't too bad of a journey. Somehow I pictured my release from mom differently. But anyway, now I suppose I am to grow in the traditional manner. Hummph!"

Although he actually felt good, his concerns didn't allow him to appreciate it. He busied himself in his self-torment, regarding what he considered a cold, forced and regimented destiny. "Is it possible to change that destiny? No, no, no!" he thought, and pressed his anguish in upon himself.

Again and again he thought through the process of a typical poppy seed's life. It seemed unsatisfactory, unsatisfying, perhaps humiliating. Yet he somberly knew the rules; in the first stage of post descent, he would wait for a rain shower or for a sprinkler to be turned on, then he would be softening his own surface and sending out two sprouts; one at end of a stem, one at root. It was this kind of thing, just the thought of this sort of growth conformity, as I mentioned, that brought the seed such anguish.

He grumbled "Even after millions of years of my own species existence, here now I lie, incapable but to enact the same boring order without the least allowance for how I feel about it. On one hand I know I'm being difficult about this, but I must at some point take a stand and object to unquestioned tradition. I'm not going to fall into lock step with things simply because every other seed isn't willing to think for themselves. There is something I have to take on for myself, something I have to do for me. I shall express my own uniqueness!"

The self-aimed speech thus complete he entrenched himself firmly in his his frustration, however knowing that it was a unlikely that his wishes could be fulfilled. Queerly though, for those of us unfamiliar with certain causal principles, the seed's wish had already been answered.

You see, the robin was really a magic bird, and when it brushed the mother-plant the seeds were given the power of the knowledge tree. It was remembered that, shortly after the time that our little seed fell to earth and made known its harsh wishes, it had received a vision that showed that his mind had a power and could change his destiny. It occurred to him, that he could do whatever he wanted. He was so excited, he didn't even think about telling his brothers and sisters who laid dispersed through the surrounding locale, some of whom had the same concerns as him.

The realization brought excitement to our little seed, which in turn brought a rush of thought, and then,"Of being a plant, I have always loved the flower most of all," was heard aloud, even by the other seeds nearby, although seeds tend to speak rather quietly.

"Now that I know that I can have my wish, why should I have to grow a stem first, then the leaves and then finally a flower? I shall be the first poppy to begin in the way that I want! And that is to be a flower right now instead of having to entertain that long, ordinary and dull process of growing stem, a root-web and leaves first!"

So the seed, just as he intended for himself, went to flower in the power of his own wish. Unfortunately for him, though, the flower petals, being underground, became damp and began to rot. Bee nor human could see it's luster, nor could petal, pistol or stamen mature without sunlight.

Thereby, it could not be avoided that the seed-flower came to a premature end, incapable of life much less of progeny. And thus ends our story, except for one small thing.

Just after the next process of dissolution, the dissolving of the flowers elements into the dirt, and just before it's brownie spirit ascended into the Fifth Plant Spectrum, the seed as a soul went to receive what would be his official commiseration note (including his next life plan and what now might be perceived as a more dubious routing, fortunately with a decebt preparation litany, which helps) by securing his pass at the Second Kingdom Palace ticket counter of their local tangibility assumption arena (not unlike our nearby human one) and then proceeded through the Third Committee's Directional Adjudication Lectern where one may submit any special pleas, if applicable, before receiving final assignment. The seed-soul made no such plea, and submitting his forms found himself holding the very agenda for his his next mystic journey.

It was at this second that the seed-soul had what humans beings have called their last thought as a summation of a lifetime. It was,"I'm not going to do that again."

It's Relaxing

Walking around thinking about dharma, what a waste.
Here's what I recommend:
Sitting down and relaxing partially,
Let your mind take its normal course.
Watch it, don't judge it.

Relax a little more:
If you're not introduced to mind's nature, get that.
See the thoughts without more thinking
And their appearance will be seen to include a seemingness.

Relax a little more.
Thoughts don't mean anything.
Even so, everything's just fine!

Relax.
Thoughts like, "I'm meditating" or " Am I doing it?"
Are just leaves growing on the tree of creative habit, so...

Relax.
Things seem to be more and less important now,
But they aren't.

From clarity,
Finding mind's nature and its creativeness;
It's relaxing.

This Excellent Age

And the Thing Called “Attaining Enlightenment”

Now that signs are here to show that Kali Yuga is here, you might think of this as a particularly bad time to "be here." This is a hard time for most people, but it’s also a golden age for others. There are a few that are nonetheless working on a project that will eventually lead everybody into spiritual awakening. For those initiated and focused into what is Kali’s fast path, the effect of Kali Yuga is a boon. For aspirants who are unable to enter the essency lineages, at best it’s a mixed bag.

A general understanding of Kali Yuga is that the beings incarnated at that time are incurring, creating and burning karma at faster and faster rates. There is growing suffering, and overall this direction will increase. A complete acceleration through disintegration will happen at the end of the Kali age, this over tens of thousands of years, certainly not in the next years like some new agers and a few Christians are proposing.

Now about the fast path: the road less followed. An awakening initiate’s mentality is ever recognizing the profound difference between what creates samsara and what is actual freedom (see rushen practice within traditional Dzogchen tradition as an excellent example). Within that ever perfecting awareness, the future master’s potential arises, a sword pulling out from its sheath.

A common belief is that the dysfunctional state of mankind and individualization is negative and to be overcome. This is the best way for people to see things, that is until they reach the line of protected force that is the masters' illuminating path. I am not repeating something I have heard, but testifying to my own experience. The door of this path is in the mentality of a humble and well-wishing person. Opening that door, one finds out about one’s self and the universe simultaneously.

Many people are interested in the spiritual path these days. If that sounds like you, you might want to look into what your actual motivation is, what you are seeking. Churches and neo-spiritual groups today are commercializing and bypassing what was taught by the Masters: Lord Christ, Buddha, Lao Tsu, or St. Francis/KH. There are even new liberal churches that don’t expect you to believe in anything greater than ordinary materialistic life. Do you agree that this is corruption, that the lineage is broken?

This corruption is a sign of the time, Black Mom Kali’s Time. (If you don’t know, she is seen often as black and very wild). But Kali herself isn’t corrupt at all. We are. She is here to wake up some and at least burn up some karma for everybody. Therein is good news. The few on this Fast Path are spiritual heroes and hold much of the potential unfoldment and correction of the “earth problem” in their daily-learning hands.

The heroism depicted in literature and movies reflects what is actually happening to those initiated to awakening in this age. A good example is Tolkien’s Lord of the Rings. The Terminator is another. The authors intuit places and situations, then share their vision in characters that you would never suspect, where the person must awaken to their aliveness of spirit.

This human spirit is beautiful, and how it is unfolding is far beyond the comprehension of nihilistic or eternalist values, Kali Yuga’s two popular ways of thinking. A nihilist thinks this is all grandiose talk; the eternalist can’t keep focused on the real meaning of the story, which is too bad. But, pay attention, y’all: these stories are calling us to wake up.

That voice of awakening isn't fooled by materialistic pessimism. Those dark minds in our media unknowingly report the darkening of their own minds, seeing only the blindness and disorder in our roughening Kali Yuga. They are that blindness. The tendency in this age is a growing narcissism and to follow narcissistic solutions, which generally means that you blame everyone but yourself for your unhappiness.

How can an initiate of Christ, Buddha-Tao use this Kali-negativity? This in only to be discussed and used in the proper time. Many amateur groups and individuals are trying to teach spiritual sexuality, consciousness raising, creativity training, or psychism, but that is just causing confusion for those involved and frustrating many who could be growing in this life. The true tantric path or Fast Path involves the protection and empowerment of a true lineage, otherwise Kali Yuga will chew you up and...well, you know. It is a good to admit what works and what doesn't in the Kali field. To crack the Kali code, that truth seeking needs to be your ongoing approach to life. Nothing else will break through the materialism and overcome its tricky sister, spiritual materialism.

The good news is that Kali Yuga has the stuff that initiates need in order to become useful (masters), and it has more of that stuff than any other cycle in history can provide. Think of all the excuses an individual may have to really putting everything into the spiritual path. Think of how everything around you is saying not to do it. The pressure to fail in learning true meditation and facing up to your magicness is like a nonstop 24/7/365 attack: brainwashing from friends, the media, culture, and of course, ourselves. BUT. If you have even the slightest sense of transcendental compassion in all of this mess, even for a moment, that would be the equivalent of ten lifetimes of a pure Sattva Yuga meditation without even stopping for a break. Think about this special time and the opportunity that you have.

Please know that we spiritual practitioners (yes, we are constantly doing practices) are not just helping ourselves. We never separate from others, even in retreat or renunciation. We have a particular learning, a particular help and responsibility.

We work for the world. Dear environmentalist: we can help you because we are the true environmentalists. To the liberal or anarchist, our lineage represents the true freedom that you have been seeking so desperately. To the conservative or religious person, we are the awaking to the accomplishment of what you have wished. Do you get it?

The mystic people, unknown to the public, dance the buttons that underlie secrets, meanings and sciences. All along, though, we can not stop you from being small. You must choose or your karma will for you. These are hard things to understand at first, but you can get it eventually.

Have a good one,

The Labyrinth

A spiritual seeker went to a teacher to ask questions. She said to him,

"How is it that I can enter the Way?"

He said "Sit and look into your mind and let me know what's there."

She took him up on it and went ahead and looked right into her own mind.

It took a while but after months of looking what she seemed to see was, you could say, a little of everything. She experienced agony, ecstasy and everything in between. Small things, big, the universe, dust on the floor, happiness, situations, families, together, separate, confusion, anger, joy. Looking, she noticed bits of pretty much anything and everything, cycling in and going out.

She went back to the teacher and reported this to him. She told him that she knew that it was her karma and that it appeared in and as her mental-emotional configurations or habits. She said that she knew that everything was in her mind.

He said "Ok. Look into your mind," as if he had never said it before. The student's mind flipped a little.

She took him up on it and looked with accuracy into her mind. She worked dilligently. One day, while she did her practice of looking into her mind, she suddenly felt a shift, like she was a camera zooming in on something, and there appearing, as the vision crystalized, was what seemed to her to be a great labyrinth.

This strange and complex display felt to be pushing electrically toward her as it became visually intense and precise in structure. A twist of mazes came into view, and its obviousness, its strangeness, triggered, in her, a whole line of ideas as to its purpose, its reason for being, its entryway, its pathways and its mystical central goal. Disciplined, she continued her looking as she was supposed to, though.

Soon the insight came that the many of the turns and tunnels were really ideas and impulses of the many teachings about what she felt she was supposed to be. She could see that some of these path-ideas came from books or friends, and that others were collected from esteemed teachers, more from other searching people she had known, some others yet from parents and family members, still others from lamas, clergy, new age experts, self help books, and not surprisingly, even Oprah Winfrey. She suddenly remembered she had met people purported to be saints and realized that some of the pathways in the maze seemed very pure and were directly related to those teacher's suggestions.

The structure of the labyrinth was complex. Having heard a lot about "unity" she noticed that all these teachings and philosophies seemed to agree on some points. "All religions and paths ultimately agree," she thought. "I really might be on to something. That one thing they all put their attention to was exactly how to enter and how to navigate a spiritual or life path. This could be it, or at least something essential in terms of what I am seeing." And she felt sparks of hope.

Then another thought. She began to consider taking a more discriminating approach to the puzzle. She was smart and knew right away that some of those teachings would work better that others. Looking again at the jumbled maze, she felt herself confused and thought, "It would be hard to separate out the best teachings and figure out which came from whom."

A memory came in a flash. Once someone known as a holy woman had blessed her and gave her an amulet. She thought that if she held it, that might help her make her way through the the web of confusing turns.

Our spiritual seeker also remembered, (though she had never mentioned it to her friends,) that years ago, she had learned a method of getting in touch with psychic powers. She considered that this might be a good time to use those skills in order to see or feel the right directions through the maze. Or maybe to control the maze and any negative forces. "The goal must be attained," she reaffirmed, thinking to herself, "I'll do whatever it takes."

It also occurred to her that maybe if she could just trust in God: that He would show the way. This and many other ideas of how to make her way through the complex tangle made her feel both elated and, to be truthful, uncomfortable.

Being a trooper and a seeker of truth, she boldly entered the maze's gate and began trudging through a few of the channels that were beyond the outer clay walls. She decided to apply her skills, training and spiritual power. How could she lose? The years of paths had brought her a broad spectrum of holistic knowledge, and she, if anyone, would be able to traverse the labyrinth and attain its mystery. "Now, which system to use" she thought? "I may even need to use multiple ones."

Suddenly she once again remembered that simple line from the man, directing her to look into her mind. Setting aside the simple looking, she brought her focus to the question of how to best navigate the maze. But as she automatically strove forward with her quite educated and skillful approach, a feeling of futility arose in her.

She returned to the teacher and he said to her that "All people have a latent knowing that there is something more in this life than meets the eye. If they are positive thinking people, they try to find it a little, and then they try to share what little they know about how to get to that goal. That is what all optimists of this world do."

"Well then, what should I do?" was her reply. "I saw the gateway of the labyrinth. I do want to know the true path and thereby enter into that mystic center. Please tell me the moves through the labyrinth. Can you help me? Can you help me to get through it?"

She took a breath, concentrated with great concern and sincerity, and continued, "I have practiced many paths so if you simply tell me the best one, or the best combination, I promise to focus my efforts and accomplish the task."

He responded by saying,

"You don't need to get to the center. Listen for the last time.

The gate, the paths and the center of the labyrinth are all your own creation, just as you said before yet don't yet comprehend. All of your so-called spiritual paths and ideas are the channels of the maze itself. From the awareness of the essence of your own mind, the center never separated from the maze or the gates. So lighten up.

The pathways of the labyrinth are an appearance of frozen teaching ideas. All those other teachings were only meant to get things going, to begin to kick loose some searching and seeking. That's it, no more. Now is different. You need to look into your mind and recognize the culmination of the gate, the pathways and the center."

Hearing that suggestion, trooper that she was, she looked again and saw that the labyrinth was her own creation, a display of her own ideas, hopes, dreams and pathos.

And then she knew for certain that, in the state of misinterpreting it as some important truth, she was able to be honest and see that the process of navigating the labyrinth was nothing but her own creative imagination's unfullfilling activity; a mazed circling driven by a seemingly endless sense of needing.

In that exact moment, the entire labyrinth appeared more ethereal, like a shimmering dream of a beautiful place. She was taken aback. There was a kind of dissolving, like when sunlight dissolves mist or when a sandcastle is struck by a sea wave.

From that point on, she understood the instantness of special knowledge, and she dedicated her life to stabilizing the kind of honestness that she so fortunately touched on that day. She was convinced that that was enough.

Directions to the Magic Fair

It's been a rough day,
My back is sore from polishing my gods.
Mr. Haney's back
And shit, he's not leaving till we buy it all.

Dharma is easy,
Our way is hard.
Like a Freud or a Marx,
Engaging with that popular, ever winding and confident sophistry,
You are never going to figure it out.
Now as your lifeforce fades along with your diplomas,
It's as good a time as ever to consider bypassing this school of minnows.
Maybe try using a bigger bat.

Instantness, the axe of pure sacrifice,
Insures that the choice is wondrously gone, or does it?
Upon ending your season ticket committment to the squirrel races,
Titans crumple like paper cups after a hearty swig.

Maybe this is all:
Stop tweaking your illusions....

Stopping, yet gather them in a sphere.
Suddenly you hear...

"Ladies and Gentlemen,
May I have your attention!
Bring your ball to the Magic Fair!
Delights untold await one and all there!"

What has he slurred,
Did you hear what I heard?
Can you believe it?
That putz of a nerd.

"Come one and all,
Bring with you your ball!
Quite rare, directions to the fair!
Past the all those psychics, religion, naive scientism, too,
No new-agers or goddesses may attend with their glomping-on goo.
When you see paraphenomena, still not there, up the stair,
Turn left, then go right, then up and down, too!

Take the opportunity, O friends, the show unequivicable awaits,
Man, you'll need to give it a good knock on those gates!
Lady, you won't get through that thicket,
Our turnstile will stop you without a ticket!
Those of you without your ball
You won't be to allowed an entrance at all!"

Blessings to those same old beings
Playing the pretty, soft-note kindness of the shimmering expanse.
Now joy is here, to the all-beings display, I say hurray!
(Although with these lagging ones, it's been told that they
Present the seemingness of unfamiliarity of the source of the array.)

I Just Noticed

I just noticed there are no rules in the sky.
Clearly, my mind-set is a waste,
My knowledge, meaningless.
Shock and regret; also meaningless.

I think I lost myself somewhere,
Perhaps on the last corner back there.
Instead of going back to retrieve it,
I let the dog out to play.

Down beneath the labyrinth caves of the thought-world
Lies the unknown savior, intuitive awareness.
No one meets this being:
He is hidden to all.
Psychic and artist can merely sense him at a distance.

He is a killer.
He will take your life if you get near him
And that’s why you won’t
But you should.

Arms, bodies, the objects of thought-life
Lie scattered at the bottom of a canyon.
One mile up at the top of the wall
The monster of spontaneity remains unchecked.

© 2003 from FlowWorld, Sol Padma Tenzin

Are You Helping With This?

Right use of will,
Creative Use of Thought
Rejoicing
The New Iraq
First Free Election in 50 Years
Freedom to Learn Higher Teachings

For example, you can get the feel of real Iraqi attitudes instead of press bias.
"Hammorabi".
"Iraq the Model".
"and this".

The tendency is to go on in the dullness of believing in your current reality, so the constant search for truth is invaluable in countering that.

Echos of Compassion

On Another's Sorrow
by William Blake

"Can I see another's woe,
And not be in sorrow too?
Can I see another's grief,
And not seek for kind relief?

Can I see a falling tear,
And not feel my sorrow's share?
Can a father see his child
Weep, nor be with sorrow filled?

Can a mother sit and hear
An infant groan, an infant fear?
No, no! never can it be!
Never, never can it be!

And can He who smiles on all
Hear the wren with sorrows small,
Hear the small bird's grief and care,
Hear the woes that infants bear --

And not sit beside the next,
Pouring pity in their breast,
And not sit the cradle near,
Weeping tear on infant's tear?

And not sit both night and day,
Wiping all our tears away?
Oh no! never can it be!
Never, never can it be!

He doth give his joy to all:
He becomes an infant small,
He becomes a man of woe,
He doth feel the sorrow too.

Think not thou canst sigh a sigh,
And thy Maker is not by:
Think not thou canst weep a tear,
And thy Maker is not near?

Oh He gives to us his joy,
That our grief He may destroy:
Till our grief is fled an gone
He doth sit by us and moan."

NOTE: William Blake has a profound understanding of deity. Can anyone explain what is of paticular interest in the last verse? Its shocking how similar the tone is to "If There's No Tear", by an unknown dogzen poet.