Monthly Archives: February 2012

Ο ΦΟΒΟΣ


Δεν πρεπει να φοβαμαι.
Ο Φοβος ειναι ο φονιας του νου.
Ο Φοβος ειναι ο μικρος θάνατος
που φερνει την ολοκληρωτικη
εξοντωση. Θα αντιμετωπισω
καταματα τον Φοβο μου.
Θα τον αφησω να περασει
απο πανω και απο μεσα μου.
Και οταν θα φυγει ,θα στρεψω
το εσωτερικο μου βλεμμα για να
δω το δρομο απ’οπου περασε.
Εκει οπου θα εχει περασει ο Φοβος,
δε θα υπαρχει τιποτα.
Μονο εγω θα βρισκομαι εκει.
I must not fear. Fear is the mind-killer. Fear is the little-death that brings total obliteration. I will face my fear. I will permit it to pass over me and through me. And when it has gone past I will turn the inner eye to see its path. Where the fear has gone there will be nothing. Only I will remain.

WHAT IS DEATH

“WHAT IS DEATH?”

It has been claimed that one can never look directly at the sun nor at one’s own death. And yet, throughout your history of mankind, both have been the enduring themes of myth and religion, science and magic, curiosity and fear. At this point in time we find that as the sun is understood as being the source of life in the natural order of your world, so death is becoming recognized as the central dynamism underlying the life, vitality, and structure of the social order in which you find yourself.

Death is the muse of your religions, philosophies, political ideologies, arts and medical technologies. It sells newspapers and insurance policies, invigorates the plots of television programs, and — judging from your dependency on fossil fuels — even powers your industries. It is the barometer by which society measures the adequacy of social life, such as when you compare cross-cultural death and life expectancy rates to gauge social progress, compare national homicide rates to infer the stability of social structures, or compare death rates of different social groups to ascertain social inequalities.

In fact, perhaps the very first evidence of sapien’s humanity is based on funerary evidence: the discovery of the remains of a middle-aged Neanderthal, whose deformity and yet relative longevity indicate that he had probably been supported by others, and who was buried in a fetal position and covered with flowers. Long live death…

Who is it that tells you that all you can look forward to in your struggle to survive is to get old, decrepit and eventually to die. Then to be laid in the ground to become worm fodder, or fed into a giant oven and reduced to ash to be scattered to the winds. And underlying this inevitable fate is the fear of what becomes of your “soul”. Will it go to Heaven as you understand it or sent to a hell of your own making. Or maybe you get to repeat this same cycle of birth, ageing and death over and over and over….

ALL ABOUT DEATH — WHAT A RIDICULOUS IDEA!

How totally absurd your tiny mad idea there is something you call “death!” How foolish to believe a fully loving, eternal, all–powerful God created a condition in complete opposition to Himself! How utterly futile is an existence based upon obliteration!

Your joyful laughter rings forever throughout the Universe once this single central string is pulled from the fabric of your world, and time and death simply unravel from your mind.

Consider for a moment how ridiculous is the death ritual you perform in your separate human identity. You observe everything around you apparently dying, yet you are virtually unable to define, experience, or even imagine death because the condition does not exist! Essentially, you prove your image of yourself “lives” in time by observing it in contrast with everything seemingly outside yourself growing old, suffering sickness and pain, and eventually dying — including your own body. You condemn yourself to the verdict of limitation you lay upon everything in your own world. And you think this is what life is.

You can indeed afford to laugh — this world you invented is not what life is. Yet you do find yourself trapped for a moment within your own virtual reality in a game you call “existence.” It seems you play it endlessly in your vain defense against the frightening moment of your own termination. Indeed, you are in an impossible situation in your own mind even though it lasted only for a moment. Yet you do not escape your world by dying or by banding together your memories in imagery you project outside yourself to form associated human obstacles. You do need a miracle from outside of time, a catalytic correction of your false perception, to finally escape the dead world you imagined. The miracle occurs once you decide you want to change your mind about it, once you admit you need help, for power does not oppose itself. If you think you know already, you will never learn nor change.

Yet you can see and learn that you are caught for just a moment in the web of your own imagination, where you mask your attraction to death by habitually associating the two ideas of death and God in your own memory. And you can become aware of your beliefs that these ideas are both certain though incomprehensible mysteries of life, “natural” laws, just as you believe your bodily identity is never to be questioned. You can understand that you are trapped in blind obedience to the laws you hold in your cellular memory, that you think you are a “born sinner” justly deserving punishment and death. So you believe you are guilty, and your own obliteration is the judgmental decree of an all-powerful, loving God. Yet these are all ideas you made up! And they stem from but one insane idea, a fixed belief you store within your mind/body association that you could take on qualities unlike your Source.

Surely you must recognize that a wholly perfect God cannot even know of imperfection, nor could He know of choice. What would God choose between, if He is wholly perfect? Death is an impossible alternative. It is nothing more than a mere whim, a meaningless idea contrived for a moment to justify fleeting images you projected in your own mind. The world you invented is not what life is. Of course you can never really die because there is no death!

And you do know full well in your heart that this is so. You are really only afraid of the act of dying itself. And you blame your body for your fear of its painful demise. Fascinated with both, you make an idol of death by presuming in death you escape from the pain of your isolation. Your human memories tell you this is how you know God. How ridiculous an idea! You cannot split your mind up and leave your body behind. It too is only a thought in your mind and is changed in an instant and included into your true eternal nature. No one can endure pain indefinitely.

Be thankful! The war against yourself is almost over! Life creates life, not the opposite of itself. Death cannot come from life. Just as a father creates a son like unto himself, so ideas must remain united to their source and extend like themselves. You are the Son of God. You cannot be unlike your Creator.

Open up the storehouse of your mind to forgive yourself and your world and release your inner light. Remember to laugh at the idea of death. Human, you made a bargain you cannot keep!

Your mind/body/world associations are undergoing a radical reformation from the old, dark, noncreative self you imagined to your natural state as the beautiful, bright, eternally extending Light of God. If you find yourself caught in dead, gone thought, out of communication for just a moment, remember to deny death. Swear not to die, you holy Son of God! Give it up! It will not work! You know this perfectly well.

In truth you are real and eternal. You cannot be contained in false and brutal imagery of limitation. You are created to extend like your Creator. Forgive and forget the self and the world you made instead. There is no death because what God created shares His Life. And you are as God created you.
IT’S TIME AT LAST TO LOOK WITH OPEN MIND
AT
THE ABSURD IDEA OF DEATH

Death is a whimsical flight of fancy that exposes the irrationality of the human mind.
It is the impossible idea of limitation imposed by nothing on All–There–Is.
It is the idea that Totality can be contained or exceeded through the mere infliction of a definition.
It is the ridiculous notion that Life can only be recognized through its opposite.
It is the meaningless attempt to paste time upon Eternity as if form could somehow blot out Timelessness.

Death is a senseless exercise undertaken by the human condition to justify its own egocentricity. Death is nothing.
Death is the last willful act of an arrogant child determined to get its way, no matter how much pain it inflicts on its self.
Death is the result of the belief in life as physical matter. It is the consequence of lack in the human mind.
Death is the last layer of definition on that which cannot be defined.

To the human mind, death is the foundation upon which the human condition has constructed itself. It is the logical conclusion to the unquestioning identification of the human being as a body. It is the one apparent fact, in its entire apparent life, that can be counted on.
It is the one frame of reference that is unwavering in an apparent world that is constantly changing.
It is the one idea universal to perceptual consciousness and is the basis of comparison that establishes what life is to the human mind.

Our dictionaries cannot even define “life” except in terms of “death.” “Life” is considered (a) “the interval of time between birth and death;” (b) “the period from an occurrence until death;” or (c) “a sentence of imprisonment until death.”

Yet, death is an idea that has no reality. We can never know what the experience of death is. It always eludes us. It always sits just beyond our awareness, only real in the death of others. Yet the reality of life, as we think of it, pivots on this ephemeral idea.

What is this silly idea of death? Why does the human mind cling so frantically to it? Why is death more powerful to the human mind than life? Why does the effort of human existence cry for the release of termination? Why does it long for death? Yet, herein lies the enormity of the joke perpetrated against humanity by itself.
If only this one stone in the foundation of the meaning of human life were questioned, the entire flimsy structure would fall under its own weight.
If only the human mind would be as selective in its questioning as in its perception, the wall of false assumption that separates the human consciousness from the totality of its natural inheritance would, and did, crumble and disintegrate.

Is it not reasonable that there is no compromise possible in this? Either all things die, or else they live and cannot die. Is it not reasonable that life cannot be partial? Life is of the mind and in the mind. The body neither lives nor dies, because it cannot contain you who are Life. The body is merely a symbol of what you think you are and is clearly a separation device which does not exist. Time, for which death is the witness, is but a point of view imposed on eternity and serves merely as a justification to maintain your own will separate from Universal Mind.

Within this kingdom the ego rules, and cruelly. And to defend this little speck of dust it bids you fight against the universe. This fragment of your mind is such a tiny part of it that, could you but appreciate the whole, you would see instantly that it is like the smallest sunbeam to the sun, or like the faintest ripple on the surface of the ocean. Think how alone and frightened is this little thought, this infinitesimal illusion, holding itself apart against the universe. The sun becomes the sunbeam’s “enemy” that would devour it, and the ocean terrifies the little ripple and wants to swallow it.

Time and death are co-conspirators with your belief in your own limitation. Do not accept life as defined by death. Would you remain within your tiny kingdom, a sorry king, a bitter ruler of all that he surveys, who looks on nothing yet who would still die to defend it? Meanwhile, like to the sun and ocean your Self continues, unmindful that this tiny part regards itself as you.

All around you, and all about you and all in you there is an entirely new world of happy love and light. It is always and only what you have been seeking. It is your purpose for being here. And right now, in this Holy Instant, it is excitingly awaiting your simple decision not to die. So, it’s up to you…

These are your instructions: This is your wake–up call. Let it be so, and it will always have been.
Heaven’s Song Has Not Missed A Beat Because You Sleep

In this world, there appears to be a state that is life’s opposite.
You call it death.

It is the one sure thing an inhabitant of this world can count on. All of your apparent successes and failures, your loves, your hates, your losses, your gains, depend on this one inevitable fact. In a world of uncertainty and chaos, it is the one guarantee you have — the barometer for your life; the clock that ticks away in the back of your mind.

At this time, and all over this world, there is increasing documentation of encounters with death. Filling our bookstores and television programs are reports from hundreds of people, from all walks of life, describing virtually the same occurrence:

A sense of being dead, of peace and painlessness,
looking down upon yourself and traveling through a tunnel
to a light so bright and beautiful.

“Freedom from the chains of the physical body, seeing your life flash before your eyes. A sense of oneness and complete understanding. Meeting loved ones that had passed away long ago. A feeling of being taken care of and loved simply as you are, without question or judgment. Finally, a reluctance to return from this light, from this experience of indescribable love.”

Near-death? Beautiful light, love, oneness, understanding, peace and joy!

Does this speak to you of death, the great unknown, the one thing feared by all humans? The one experience you spend your whole life warding off. The aim of all medical and scientific research, to extend the human existence as long as possible to avoid this moment. This moment of what? This moment when you experience “an entrance into a splendorous light-filled realm in which time and space no longer exist.” Only if life is considered to be sickness, pain and loneliness could death be described as something so incredible, so desirable. Perhaps life is not the condition in which you currently find yourself. Perhaps life is not a condition at all, and these delightful descriptions of “near– death” are moments of recognition of the reality of eternal life.

Is it not madness to think of life as being born, aging,
losing vitality and dying in the end?

At the moment of your supposed birth into this world, you are only dying. From day one you begin the process of getting old.

“You thread your timid way through constant dangers, alone and frightened, hoping at most that death will wait a little longer before it overtakes you and you disappear.”

Death, a moment you can approach but never reach,
simply because it is impossible.

It is time for you to take a look at what you call life and what you call death and see that you have been completely mistaken about both. That the world in which you find yourself at this moment is what the idea of death is, and that life is real, beautiful, whole and eternal. That death is not the opposite of life but simply the denial of it, and these near–death experiences are moments when you release this idea of death and enter into the reality of your eternal life.

You can be assured that what you fear is not death, which is your own unreachable escape from yourself. What you fear is your own salvation! Life is what you fear! When the pressure of your self–identity gets too much for you, you collapse under the gravity of your own resistance. You find yourself soaring through a tunnel toward a beautiful light, warm and familiar, that calls you. So much like coming home, where you know you belong, only to return again to this chaotic world of loneliness and death. Death, an instant of relief from the pain of self–identity. A momentary distraction from the unbearable guilt of self–construction. A moment that you keep reliving again and again and again. A single moment between which appears to you a lifetime. Sometimes you stretch it to seem as if it’s thirty years or one hundred years or just minutes. It does not matter, it is still only a single instant. A transient moment in which you stopped by to deny who you are.

Each day, and every minute of each day, and every instant that each minute holds, you but relive the single instant when the time of terror took the place of love.

And so you die each day to live again, until you cross the gap between the past and present, which is not a gap at all. Such is each life; a seeming interval from birth to death and on to life again, a repetition of an instant gone by long ago that cannot be relived. And all of time is but the mad belief that what is over is still here and now.

Now, if you look again at the human description of near–death you can begin to see that your self–identity, which is what the world is, is what death is, and that these near–death experiences are near–life remembrances. You can begin to see that the release of your self–identity, which you currently view as death, is your release to life.

Life which is eternal and does not cease, and is not affected by your denial of it. Only you are affected by your denial of reality and your only effect is your own suffering. An effect that has no cause because you did not create yourself.

So being only an effect of an effect, you can only create a reflection of life, a reflection of life as death, a continual suffering interrupted by a moment you call death which gives you relief from yourself. A moment when you release your limited self–identity, glimpse reality, only to relive again an idea that was over the moment you had it. Death, a moment you can approach but never reach, simply because it is impossible.

It’s time at last for you to experience “near–life” without the necessity of the loss of the body association. Quite simply, your own physical resurrection. How simple is salvation! Do not delay the inevitable. Die now. Die to the idea that life is survival, loneliness and pain. Die to be born again!

You have been in a dream of death and it is now time for you to awaken to the reality of eternal life. “Heaven’s song did not miss a beat because you slept.” There is a door, a tunnel if you will, that has always been open for you to walk through out of this world of death and into the reality of eternal life.

“Seek for that door and find it. But before you try to open it, remind yourself no one can fail who seeks to reach the truth. And it is this request you make today… Put out your hand, and see how easily the door swings open with your one intent to go beyond it. Angels light the way, so that all darkness vanishes, and you are standing in the light so bright and clear that you can understand all things you see. A tiny moment of surprise perhaps, will make you pause before you realize the world you see before you in the light reflects the truth you knew, and did not quite forget in wandering away in dreams.”

IF I WAS A WOMAN I’D WRITE THIS LETTER

What are woman? What is this creature? Just bone of your bone. Oh, no! Not so bad! You love women, you believe beautiful women are created to delight your gaze, maintain your self-esteem. Ordinary women should provide you proper comfort, and ugly – they simply do not exist. They do not exist, they are below the threshold of your attention.

My dear, selfish man! How I hate you! This sense ripened in my head long, but it has matured. In the end, I have no less intellect than you. You often laugh the edge God created a woman of – is the only bone without brain. Okay. But a woman fully received God’s gift – an immortal soul. Woman becomes wiser with age, because soul is a repository of wisdom. Women’s heart is still not subject to your mind, and you are so annoyed by this!

You men are our protection and support in this cruel world, in the course of evolution you have not purchased accumulated wisdom of generations. You wasted yourselves on fun. In an age of technological advances you are moving from horses of flesh and blood to soulless iron wagons, and as the universality of this vehicle is greatly exaggerated, and you are using poor women’s shoulders. Family caregivers, you think working in low-jobs is below a man’s dignity, you do not want to load a double load, because you need time for contemplation of the world’s imperfections. And a woman is another imperfect work.

You raise cooking or cleaning the house to the rank of a feat, and require a minimum three weeks’ vacation after it. However, this is just a day job for a woman.

Male! You promised me, a weak woman, protection from this world, support and care. And every day you repeat me I am worthless, that I cannot live without you. And every day you show me your bad mood, poor health, conflicts with other men. I hate you because for you my work means a cheerful twittering, and your one is hard work. I hate you for what your friends represent business negotiations, and my meetings – some sort of fun. Your late coming home – the need for production, but mine – strange walking at night. I hate your exploits in the household, which are usual pastime for me.

I hate you for that I am a bad mother, and you are a wonderful father, even if you forgot about your child’s birthday. I hate you for that you can slamm the door at any time, without going into details of why and where you go, but if I allow myself such a trick, I can be sure the locks will be changed. I hate you because you made our child a hostage to my good behavior. I hate you for what I always hear: dear, I will solve all your problems! And after some time: I’m busy, I have no time, but this is your problem!

I hate you for what you want to see me weak, but always check for survival. You are infuriated with my helplessness. You go mad because of my strength and endurance. I hate you for that considering yourself stronger, you constantly humiliate me. Attacks on a weak person is a sign of cowardice.

I hate you, because if I go, I’ll be a bad woman with a terrible temper, which does not understand the happiness she had lost. I hate you for that if you leave, you’ll be a misunderstood genius who had escaped from the shackles of bourgeois life.