THE WHIP AND THE CROSS: 2013

Thursday, December 19, 2013

BOOK PUBLISHED AT KINDLE STORE, AMAZON.COM -" THE SECOND COMING OF CHRIST ACIENT GOSPEL DISCOVERED ANEW...."...also, in this blog - THE FEMALE HAND OF GOD, AND VERSES FROM "THE SONG OF TRUTH"

ANNOUNCING A BOOK PUBLISHED --- THE MATERIALS OF THIS BLOG and MORE --- BOOK, "THE SECOND COMING OF THE CHRIST, MOST ANCIENT GOSPEL, DISCOVERED ANEW" at: amazon.com....kindle store (author - William Milne)

plus IN THIS BLOG: VOICE OF THE FEMALE HAND OF GOD..... and MORE verses OF THE "SONG OF TRUTH"

____________________________________________________________________________________

                             I'm happy to announce I have published a
book, entitled:

THE SECOND COMING OF CHRIST, MOST ANCIENT
GOSPEL DISCOVERED ANEW

The book is a compilation of some of these articles,
together with a new one.
   I hope you enjoy it. You can find it
at amazon.com    at the "kindle store". It costs
$2.99.
   The alternative would have been to attempt
to get funds from ads run on the blogs.

   Any proceeds will be to keep me going
working on the Cliff-Top writings.
The manuscript is over 200 pages long
and it's going to take all the nerve I posses
to keep at it.
Funds from royalties will serve to keep
me a little bit comfortable. Any funds
above and beyond basic comfort needs
will go to " BUILD A BELL ON A HILL."
It's my dream to put a huge bell atop
the 150 foot cliff, and have it rung perhaps
five times a month in order to popularize,
make more people aware of the discovery
of the new gospels.

(I'll be able to give tax receipts - to reduce your
payment of tax if you donate and you live in Canada,
through the Toronto Artistic Performance Society,
which is a registered charity; regarding tax receipts
for those of us in the U.S.A., I don't know how
to do it yet)

It's just a sweet idea, Build A Bell On A Hill.
The hill is, of course, the cliff-top where
this book's writing took place.
I don't have this well organized as yet.
You can always e-mail me at: zappadat@gmail.com
so we can figure out together how to do this.

   I thank you for simply reading these articles.
I am touched, deeply moved, that each one of you
is joining me in this voyage.

Without my blaming anyone in the past,
in the spirit of forgiveness, it is necessary
to create a New Christian Consciousness, by
melding the Gospels included in the Bible
with these earliest ancient Gospels which were
rejected and suppressed by the "Chamber of Commerce
Bishops" at the Council of Nicea 325 A.D.
          The Consciousness that will be arising is
Christ Consciousness, and through us, our hearts
and dreams and meditative Minds, the Anointed One
will arise to Consciousness within us.
        I have absolutely no doubt about this.



Re: The New Gospels: The Gospel of Thomas( the Source Gospel) is a must read.
But there are also: The Gospel of Philip and
The Gospel of Mary (all too short, so let's add
The Thunder, Perfect Mind... a gorgeous poem
written by the Female Hand of God)

Truly, I am so thankful.

          As I mentioned before, the poem written
on the cliff (at Temple's Gate), "The Song Of Truth"
is fourteen pages long.
          I'll eventually post the whole poem. But here
are a few verses I like this morning.



I have seen you walking
As if there's something that you Lack;
I have seen you walking
Up the block and back.

Where are you really going?
Do you really know?
Don't you know there is One?
There is one Man who knows.

He has seen you walking
With a murmur of delight;
He has seen your hidden loves
He knows the fear you fight.

Perhaps you haven't met Him,
But as far as that streetcar goes
He is standing on the corner
Watching the river flow.

There is nothing that is hidden,
From his hidden sight;
All those fruits that seemed forbidden
All those fruits that taste so ripe

He does not disdain them
All the fruits of life
He has given the Tree to be
Wherein the fruit has life.

He does not know the sin
The elders are familiar with,
But then again He makes the food
These others just serve the dish.

He asks that you eat well
He asks that you find bliss;
But He knows if you forget Him
There is much you will have missed.

And it is a shame to miss Him
As Life turns into death
For while the clock keeps ticking
He gives Eternal Breath.

Were He not liberating,
You could ignore His breath;
But it happens, as He is creating
He is in the midst of Rest.

Our life is a Forgetting
At least it often seems to be;
We always are forgetting
What causes us to be.

   (C)1980 by William G. Milne

I know the rhyme scheme is simplistic,
almost too much so...but it has something,
doesn't it!

No comments:

Tuesday, December 10, 2013

A POEM, "THE SONG OF TRUTH"; WRITTEN ON THE CLIFF-TOP, TWO EXERPTS

        I though, with some of the amazing experiences that occurred at the cliff-top
hut, I thought what was being written was a new testament
of the Holy One. I was going to call it the New Testament, but that seemed
outrageous... and I was trying not to do any more outrageous
things for a little while.
         The Cliff-Top writings from that sacred site of power,
I guess "Hymns from Temple's Gate" will do as a name
for now.
          The writings were certainly
done in the spirit of hymns
          I'll type at least some of the cliff-top text every few days and post it...

______________________________

___________________________

The Song of Truth
_______________

Forgiveness remains in the world,
After the True One has left;
How could He ever go away
And leave his children bereft?

For without True Knowledge
How can one ever live?
Need one go to college
To learn how to give?
Forgiveness remains in the world
So long as there is something to forgive.

                                                                                               (C) 2000 by William G. Milne
                                                                                               All rights reserved.

_____________________________________________________________

         I'm picking and choosing verses according
to what appeals to me today. Some of the
verses appear overly simplistic, but I could
be wrong.

     2

Perhaps you have not heard Her name;

Her mercies haven't touched you yet,

But when you wander that lonely lane

There are angels who don't forget.

Our life is a Forgetting,
It is a sickness to Forget;
For the healthy man remembers
There is One more strong than death.

There is one True Physician
She will cure your needs;
She will administer unto you
He protects your Seed.

He has always known you,
Though perhaps you have never met;
He does not forget you,
Though you tend to forget.

He is the true Physician,
She is the angel of the night.
He is the true Musician;
She walks the neon lights.

They are waiting for you
This True One we shall call two;
One is waiting for you
While you are wondering what to do.

There is a glance of recognition
There will be no mistake
Just as he who eats the pastry
May meet He who bakes the cake.

She walks with fishnet stockings;
A red dress and high-heel shoes.
He is also fishing
The two they fish for you.

To whom then will you listen?
At the ending of the night?
Will you hear dogmatic positions?
Or will you know an Inner Light?

The neon light is shining
Beside a streetcar named despair;
You don't need to tell me
Who is walking there.

About the poem, The Song of Truth.

I wrote it on the rocks of the cliff, just at the edge of some heavy bush.

The wind was blowing in gusts and my hands were cold. The pine trees near me

leapt about in the wind. I could look down from the cliff and look

at the treetops of the forest below.

It was a strenuous walk to get back to the cabin, so I kept using

this blunt black pencil... writing into a hardcover notebook. Each verse filled

a whole page - a pretty crude attempt at scratching down a message.

The rhythm and rhyme you could find in any

Hallmark greeting card. At first glimpse the poem looks like doggerel ...

That is, until you read a few verses

and you see   intelligence at work in the poem.
   There's a profundity of thought
you won't find in any greeting card store I'm not
comparing myself to William Blake, but the
simplicity of the language in "Auguries of innocence" ...
come to mind.
                Remember this was written in the bush and
I was sitting on a rock... and I was blown away by the experiences
I had been having in there...Also,
I was in a very pure place within. I was an empty vessel.
I had been hollowed out almost at birth and now I was cauterized
with Spirit, as I worked on these materials.
             I didn't take a lot of breaks....The situation seemed too
urgent to me.

              The voice that was speaking through me had to be
heard. As I confronted these newly discovered ancient gospels,
for sure I wasn't writing all the passages.

   I didn't do intricate, jazz-like rhymes. My hands were
cold and I was writing with a blunt pencil, which I kept
sharpening on rocks... I didn't want to break the
flow.

         The Song of Truth is fourteen pages long, and may
well need some careful editing. I won't attempt it now, because
I'm living in the midst of electronic devices and media,
and my mind feels clouded.
           In other words, I'm not smart enough for the task!

.          I just noticed a verse I like:

           The Answer to the Problem
            Philosophers wrestle with:
            The Answer to the Problem
             Is that no Problem exists.

                                                                                                                                         (C) 1980 by William G. Milne

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CLIFF-TOP WRITINGS CONTINUED, HYMNS FROM TEMPLE'S GATE

Jesus said: "See, my poetical friend.
I am the true Poet, the one and only
Source of Poetry. If you will know Me,
you will know Yourself."

The poet said: "But, You are the last
Prophet. you are the True One. You
are the Christ. When did poetry
become Prophecy?"

Jesus said: "My good friend, Poetry
was always Prophecy, from the very
beginning, and so shall it be until
the end, which there shall never be.
For verily, verily, I say unto you,
beyond all time, there is poetry.
You, son of infinite Beauty, soon
you are destined to see."

The poet said: "And what shall I
see, Lord?"

Jesus said: "You shall see Poetry."

The poet asked: "Beyond the beginning
and the ending, I shall see Poetry?"

Jesus said: "The beginning is the ending;
the ending, the beginning; and there
never shall be an end; and there never
was a beginning. But I say unto you,
this heaven and earth shall pass away,
yea, the very sky shall pass by, but
the Poet shall never die."
        "But see, poetical friend, so many
who seek, so many also who remain
asleep; be good to such as these; for
all of these, every son of Man is of Me.
So be merciful, my helpful friend, and
you shall be judged accordingly. For
as a man judges, so is he judged. So
it shall ever be."
"In so much as you are good to
the least of these, you are good to Me."

The poet said: "But what would you have
me do, Father, wha would you have
me be?"

Jesus said: "I ask merely that you
record this new Gospel; that you see
it rooted deeply in the soil of the
True One, before you leave, and
come to Me. I ask no more of you
than this: record faithfully... and
use your gifts to see the True Vine
planted freely. Do I ask too much
of thee?"

The poet said: "Master, what you ask
is my Destiny."

Jesus said: "I know it well, friend. So
shall the prophecy be fulfilled. 'I shall
come again.'"

The poet said: "But, Lord, You never
left."

Jesus said: "How easy is it then for
Me to come. So shall the prophecy
be fulfilled. "I shall come again."

The poet said: "You who have been
from the beginning of time, the beginning
that is the end. I could write endless
stories of You; but what purpose would
that serve? Would it serve your End,
stories that He who has always been,
has come again? What an unlikely
servant you chose in me."

Jesus said: "Yes, but I say unto you,
you would not have come to Me, had
you not sinned."

The poet said: "Well, then, O happy
fault, O blessed sin, that he who is
lead astray may through wickedness
be found again. Then indeed is the
whole world part of Your Mercy.
If You will receive such as me."

Jesus said: "I do receive you, and
you shall receive Me."

The poet said: "O happy ending, that
makes such a beginning."

   (C)1980, by William G.Milne
   All rights reserved.

Friday, December 6, 2013

CLIFF-TOP WRITINGS, JUST TEXT... VERSES FROM TEMPLE'S GATE

          Jesus said: "Finally the Father sent
His Son to receive the fruits of his lands,
saying: "Perhaps they will respect my Son."
But the husbandmen, knowing that he
was the heir of the vineyard, they
seized him. they killed him. Whoever
has ears, let him hear."
"But the Son is always here, and
builds a new Kingdom for those who
would face death and conquer fear.
The Son builds for the hungry ones
who would be filled, not for those who
are asleep. When the harvest is here,
it is most easy to separate the chaff
from the wheat, the weeds from the
living Seed. They are separate already,
living in different realms in the same
Place. I am here. I wait for you.
The Father has given you the Son,
that you may know yourself, and
that the two may become One."
"Many are standing at the door,
but the solitary are the ones who
will enter the bridal chamber."

   "Let him who has power renounce
it, until he sees the true Light which
is hidden in the Image of the Life of the
Father. If he is worthy, he will not
taste death."
   "Why do you wash the outside
of the cup? Do you not understand
that he who made the inside is also
he who made the outside?"
   "Come to Me, for you
are in need. And once that need
touches you, it will never let you
be: that need for the Truth."
   "I will give you what is Mine,
that which is Mine shall be yours
also. For verily, verily, from
the beginning til the end of time,
what is Mine is yours, and what is
yours is Mine."
"Whoever drinks from My mouth
shall become as I am and I myself will
become he, and the hidden things
shall be revealed to him. He who
lives on the Living One shall see
neither death nor fear, because he
has made himself worthy. Woe to
the flesh which depends upon the soul;
woe to the soul which depends upon the
flesh. It is necessary to make the two
One. And then My Kingdom, which has
always been here, will come."
The poet was silent.

Sunday, November 17, 2013

CLIFF-TOP WRITINGS, TEXT; plus HISTORICAL AND PERSONAL NOTES

The following passages comes from
a Chapter of the Cliff-Top Text called: "The Legacy."
The passages in quotation marks: "quotes", are
the passages taken directly from the Chapter.

       " The poet walked out into the wilderness

        Behind him, leaving all comforts of home
or family, all thoughts of daily commerce, all
desire for his lady, and with a clear mind
walked alone into the depths of the
forest, taking with him only water and
oil to light a lamp.
          The poet was returning to the depths
of his soul. He was also doing what he
was told.
        He came to a clear and breezy place,
near a hilltop and overlooking lakes and
valleys. The cloudy autumn air was beginning
to get a little chilly. The poet was about
serious business - yet not to be taken
seriously by anyone except those
who are trapped within the confines of
specific identities."
        At the top of the cliff, he lit a fire
among the rocks that stood on a rise
behind the cliff face. He poured water
into a pot and let it boil over the fire.
Into the pot he threw all edible forms
of food and fuel he found in the woods
around him - ferns, and leaves,
wintergreen berries, and all kinds
of manna which was growing
beneath the trees of the forest
around him.
            He cooked up the brew and
drank it; it tasted tart, and sweet;
it tasted sour also, but of the
earth itself.
          "After a time, sitting in the
silence, he started to laugh at
all his worries; he laughed at himself,
at his serious concerns and determinings;
his food worries, his business worries,
his own inexplicable primordial fear worry."
     "It seemed ridiculous to him
that such fearful thoughts and concerns
should blind him - blind him to the
whole vast and panoramic scene that
was unfolding before the poet, both
within himself and externally. The
world, or so it seemed, was too vast
for such blindness, such inexplicable
Forgetting.
             Yet there it was before him;
a whole populace that had forgotten,
residing concernedly in the valleys
below."

          "How silly," the poet murmured, "They do
not see themselves. They do not know themselves.
They are filled with a thousand desires, concerns
and interests. But they have missed out on the
most important business: themselves. The wordl
around them, themselves, they have forgotten
themselves, their true birthright, their destiny;
they have inreality forgotten their true history.
They are too busy to see!" The poet howled. He
laughed uproariously. He fell down on the rocks
chuckling to himself. He looked demented."
          "And so the poet, being a quiet and unassuming
man of moderate ways, decided to uproot the
whole false plant of human blindness, to tear it
out by its roots and shake it like a deranged dog
in the face of those who had allowed, in all
complacency, this false plant to grow. Beneath
him, in the valley, people were getting fat.
Dogs were fighting."
        "Because he was a quiet and unassuming
man, the poet was enraged, and decided to
throw a gauntlet to the age. To see if any man
of vision might arise worthy of the task of
Paradise."
        "The poet was a simple man. He only
minded his business. The problem was,
he saw the true nature of his business,
and he minded it well."
       "Others of his age doubted there could
ever be a true vision of Eternity. The poet
knew differently. And so received the Will
of One who was greater than he. He opened
the Will, and read diligently. He opened
himself. For so it has been said truly:
"If one is to learn how to give, one must
first know how to receive."



        Out of the ancient papyrus scroll,
out of the holy sacred preserving
sands of Egypt, came the texts
which had been suppressed for so many years...
suppressed by the Empire Church, and
the Tenth Roman legion marching across
Egypt to drive out the early Christians.

         Of course, called them, "heretics"
for the "heretics" told the truth in the best
ways they were able. But the Truth is like a
hot potato. Unless He is God, no man can
hold it for very long. What is the phrase?
"Human kind cannot bear very much reality."
   The true Living Word of the Christ
is like a bell ringing throughout the centuries.
The bell has been muted by the unbelievers;
but the bell has never been silenced.
I understand why so many ran from the
Living Word. Myself, I ran also. I ran like
a rabbit; I bobbed and weaved, as if I was
avoiding the blows of a champion boxer.
But there is no mistaking the Bell,
when you hear it ring. There is no mistaking
the Words of the Living Christ.

The poet said: "Help me, Lord. Help me, Father,
   to see."
Jesus said: "I am helping thee. Soon you will
know Me. But there will be days
when you will wish to forget
I exist. There will be days when
others will ask you if you saw Me.
And you will deny Me."

The poet said: "Lord, that is not true."

But, of course, it was true. I ran like
a rabbit, and I denied Him constantly. I drank
booze - much as I could - for about twenty
years.
It was all too heavy! It was all too much
for me - the burning Vision within. The one Mind
that is eternal... the Heart-Mind, the Mind of
All Souls.... the Mind that is Soul....The Mind
that is Love... The Heart that is Whole.



   How do I know this is the Second Coming
of the Lord?
Because the Living Christ, the One who
is eternal life; I know Him to be here with us.
The Living Christ of the Lord of Hosts, the Lord
of Abraham and Jacob, the Lord of Israel, the Israel
that was meant to be, not the Israel of atrocity,
the Lord of Albian, Lord of the Americas. He has
spoken.
   And He is speaking still from this holy place.
From among these hills.

       "Somehow the earliest Christian gospels
had survived. The poet saw this as a miracle.
And now he had a copy of the ancient texts,
and he had a place to reside; where he could
concentrate his mind and work on these
phrases that came to him out of the mists
of time."
        "Indeed that morning, there was a mist
hanging over the lakes and valleys."

I am interested in Vision; I am interested in
revelations brought to us in dreams;
and I am fascinated by the voice
of the Christ, Voice who speaks
to us so clearly, across the sea and across
the centuries.
attempting to express the Truth
   These are the voices we find
in the discovered Library.
          There were many books and
writings,scrolls and extant gospels
at the time the Bible was being assembled.
The Bible and the New Testament, as we find
it today, was not assembled by God; it
was put together by a highly politicized
group of Bishops, the Chamber of Commerce
of their day.
        What has been passed down to us is
a castrated bible, and we really cannot correctly
see it in any other way.
   The so-called canon is sent down to us
as the ONLY truth. Nothing could be more
erroneous.
   History is written
by the winners.
          It was the winners, a
conglomeration of bishops and other
businessmen, who chose the texts
that supported only those ideas
that would result in a strong and
prosperous enterprise - a money-
making church and clergy.
As a result it was taught -
to commune with God you must
go through the church as middleman.
That's not what the early saints taught,
the early saints taught that our Creator
can be found by looking deeply
within ourselves.
   This was heresy, because it
cut out the middleman.
   The bishops also were not
happy with the discovery that the Trinity
might also be said to include a female voice,
the voice of Mary from the Gospel of Mary,
the voice of Mary in "The Thunder, Perfect Mind."


        The Council of Nicea, 325 A.D., excluded
many of the sacred texts that ought to have
been preserved for us.
        It excluded the many other gospels and
holy writings that were extant at the
time - some of these books had been
circulated to most of the countries
that ring the Mediterranean sea.

             We see none of these texts,
spiritual essays and Gospels - no,
we have one view only - the convenient
view of the conquerors who saw religion
as an arm of the state, an organ of
control (to mix a metaphor), a way
of seeing that supported their monopolistic
opinion of what was the best way to run
a lucrative show.
          Of course, there were exceptions...
Origen, for example, who cut his own
testicles off - he must have cared deeply
about something...
           At any rate, at the Council of
Nicea, 325 A.D, the bishops chose
those books that placed the church
dead centre in the way of man's quest for
revelation and communion with God.

Jesus said: "A vine has been planted
                  without the Father and,
as it is not established, it will
be pulled up by its roots and be
destroyed. Woe to these false
preachers who adminsiter temporal
kingdoms, for they shall not see
the Kingdom, yet they prevent others
from seeing."
        "Upon the rock of Peter,
a common man, I built my church
in three days. Upon this rock I still
build my church. Woe to them, the
Pharisees, for they are like a dog
sleeping in the manger of oxen, for
neither does he eat, nor does he
allow the oxen to eat. Blessed is
the man who knows the robbers
will come in. He will be strong
and protect himself from brigands
that he may see Me when he is
still alive: that he does not die
without the Knowledge I am born
to speak."

Thursday, November 14, 2013

EVEN AS THE DAWN WITH ITS ROSY FINGERS PROMISES THE SUN, SO DO THESE WORDS MAKE PROMISE OF THE RISING OF THE MIND OF THE TRUE ONE , SO DOES HE COME TO GREET YOU, PATIENT AS THE DAWN.

            It was four in the morning, and the snows
were almost ending. Every few days the taste
of spring would rise to the poet. Every third
day or so, there would be an almost
balmy day.
He lit a fire in the woodstove
opened the door, and the taste of the air
was sweet. Off in the distance, in the
valley below and across a lake, he could
see the lights of the small city.
Above him in the sky, which was still
night - the northern lights were playing
and forming circles in the air, sheets
and circles of colours rising and falling
and sweeping across the frozen lake,
dancing in the air.
One Easter, the light in the sky turned
red and descended around the poet.
He knew such things had happened
and kept happening, if a person only
had the faith to see: he could see great
signs in the heavens:

Jesus said: "I have cast fire upon the
world. and see, I guard it until the
world is afire. I shall choose you,
one out of a thousand, and two out
of ten thousand, and they shall
stand as a single one, until the
whole world is aflame."

The poet asked: "Shall you choose
me?"

Jesus said: "The choice is yours."

"For if you shall choose Me, I shall
have chosen you. Within a man
of light there is light and he lights
the whole world."

The poet asked: "Where shall I find
You?"
Jesus said: "I am where you are."

The poet asked: "What are you?"
Jesus said: "I am what you are."

The poet asked: "Who are you?"
Jesus said: "Know yourself and you
will know Me."

The poet asked: "How shall I know
myself?"
Jesus said: "You must become as a
small child in the rain who puts his
clothing beneath his feet and stands
naked and unashamed beneath the
heavens."

The poet asked: "How do I know that
You are indeed the True One?"

Jesus said: "Because I say what all
men need to hear. If my words are
not alive, ignore me."
"Were I not the True One you would
know me to be a liar, for My words
would have no life. But I speak
the Living Word. If another speaks
the Same, I am He."
"I am He who is
from the Same. I attained to the Same
and the Same attained to Me."

         " I say to you,come to Me,
for My lordship is gentle."

Jesus said: "Cleave a piece of wood
I am there. Lift a stone, you will
find me there."

Jesus said:      "Whosoever drinks the waters
    From My mouth,
                     will become as I am,
                      And I shall be he,
                       and the hidden things will be
                        revealed to him."

Jesus said:     "I admit to My Mystery
                      only those who are worthy.
                      Make yourself worthy,
                      foolish man."

        The poet stared up at the sky, where
the lights were forming circles around him,
rising and falling.
         He sat against a rock, under his
favourite tree, and watched as the dawn
was approaching.
          He knew these words of the Christ
were not as he or his people had been
taught by the orthodoxy.
           He knew the new Vision was coming.

           Even as the dawn, with its rosy fingers
makes promise of the sun;
           So do these words make promise,
of the rising of the MInd and the presence
the True One, so does He come to greet
you, patient as the dawn.

Saturday, November 9, 2013

THE WAR ON THE FLESH - UNCONSCIOUS HANGOVER FROM THE PURITAN MINDSET

THE WAR ON DRUGS, THE PURITAN ETHIC
AND THE HIGHEST PER CAPITA JAIL RATE ON THE PLANET
____________________________________________________
   I`ve re-written this article but can`t seem to find
the new and improved version, the more coherent one...
   The point I was trying to make is that there
is a dangerous hangover from the puritan mindset. Part
of that mindset is an UNCONSCIOUS TENDENCY to debase
all things of the flesh. And this judgemental disdain towards
the flesh has much to do with the uncaring destruction of
the physical world around us

Excuse me as I repeat: THIS JUDGEMENTAL DISDAIN
TOWARDS THE FLESH HAS MUCH TO DO WITH THE
UNCARING DESTRUCTION OF THE PHYSICAL WORLD
AROUND US.

                 This unconscious hatred of the flesh is the motivating force
behind many of the idiotic judgements made by shallow Christian
elements.The puritan tradition is carried on thoughtlessly, a prejudice
repeated by rote.
                  Why is this important? This unconscious moralizing
WAR on the FLESH is the impetus behind a hateful disregard for
our physical environment.
                  If we pray to the spirit and despise the flesh, this
disdain ends up being applied to our environment, also.
                  I truly think this is a dangerous situation. I think
this unconscious prejudice might kill us all.

                  I shudder to think that a mind infused with this
unbalanced dualism - that such a mind might have access
to nuclear weapons - this is no joking matter!




   In "THE LAND OF THE FREE" as we refer
to ourselves in Canada, we have the highest per capita
incarceration rate on this planet. And why is this?
It`s because of the high arrest rate caused by the "war
on drugs."
All of North America has this honour.
We share this highest per capita jail rate with the United States.

                 WHAT MADNESS IS THIS?

THIS MADNESS DERIVES FROM THE PURITAN ETHIC.

   In old time errant Christianity we used to "lift up the spirit" and "debase the flesh". There are not two worlds: a higher world of the spirit and a lower world of the flesh.
                Our magnificent Earth and the Universe we are born
into - it`s one Unity. Spirit cannot exist without the flesh. It`s
obvious: we are part of one fabric of being. It`s ridiculous to demean
one aspect of this fabric and sanctify another aspect.
   The thinking goes,    "Drugs are evil; they are part of the lesser world - the world of the flesh. And there is a mean-spirited and mostly
unconscious prejudice against the world of the flesh.
There is sickness in this dualistic thinking and the phony morality that derives from it. In fact there is no duality, rather there is an underlying unity of
of all things.
   Dualities such as spirit vs flesh, object vs subject,
God vs man: thinking in terms of such phony distinctions ---
creates erroneous morality. Why base our thinking and actions
on divisions that don't exist?


                                                                          *       *       *

Thursday, November 7, 2013

THE PHALLUS AND THE CROSS, WHAT WAS RAISED FIRST AT THE CROSSROADS?

OUR HISTORY IS STRANGE ENOUGH, WITHOUT
REPRESSING IT.
Once we start repressing what happened,
once we start being liars to ourselves: then of course
our history becomes "complicated".
   Lies make complications.
   Our intellect loves to understand complications.
Only the Mind can grasp profound simplicity

Intellect is a lower human function than Mind.
We have to go through a kind of death
in order to attain to Mind.
   Mind comes as Grace, when we stop trying
to intellectually understand.

   The intellect reaches a wall, and it cannot pass
through. Only by trying to pierce the wall, which it
it cannot do...does the intellect, as it lies down
exhausted, give over to a higher function.
   Only by trying do we learn not to try...

        We learn we are using the wrong tool for the job:
intellectual desire must be annihilated. Only
through the death of one function, does Grace
enter.

   There's only ONE GAME in town, by the way,
the Game is a living being learning how to come
into unity with its Source, finding Home,
so to speak.
The isolated 'being' learns how to return
to 'Being'.
         The only Game in town started off as
a game of hide and seek between man and God.
            In the beginning all there was was God.
God decided to hide from Himself: so he created
man, an entity who does not know his own
Identity.

   If you don't like the Christian term, 'Grace',
because 'Grace' implies an external agent, you
can say: "Through a   death of the intellect I
entered into the unity of all things.
   Words are traps... places for the intellect
to reside, argue contradictions and hide.

.

          This article started as a note regarding
this SPIRIT vs SEX duality that is
always bugging me.
       Perhaps because I have been known to have attacks
of mania... and hyper-sexuality is associated with
mania. Perhaps I'm more obsessed with this Split in our
psyche than anyone needs to be.
I can be awake for three days at times, hammering
away at some topic... But this is not about me.

                 At many crossroads in Britain...often a large
erection/phallus/was set up as a statue. At many
important places would be a large statue that
was a phallus. This was usual.
People worshipped fertility and so they
worshipped a hard-on as a symbol the way we
now use a cross as a symbol.
        There is no doubt about this. I'm not making
this stuff up. There's a fine little book called
Celtic Crosses which sets out the history of
early crosses in the world of the Celts.
And crosses in our history started out as phalli.
        So what happened?

        Well, the church came along and many
monks, etc. etc.... And what was done is this
the phallos was "Xed" out into a cross.
        Put your fingers in an "X" you'll see
it's identical with a cross.

         Now I know the cross represents
Christ in our minds... But when you go to a
phallus, carve off the head and add a cross
piece... yes, you make a cross... but
at the same time you are crossing
out the sexual element.
        This "X"ing out business is my idea.
It originates with me, the thought, but it
seems obvious.
        Is it not obvious to you?

        To quote Father Belyea, once again:
"Nobody sees the obvious."
         But once you see an obvious truth;
it's difficult to forget it. Because obvious
facts are irrefutable.

         First we worshipped fertility, the organ
of fecundity, itself.
         Christ's Father, our Christian God was
originally a fertility God, worshipped as
an organ of fecundity
          Why would we attempt to deny
the obvious?


                        Only through denial, repressions and lies
do we make history complicated.