WHAT HAVE YOU DONE TO THE EUCHARIST? IT'S TIME TO FESS UP AND PUT ALL THE CARDS ON THE TABLE. KIDDIE TIME IS OVER.

            Once again I encounter the same old
problem, none of the priests or ministers I know
has tried to tackle. And there is tremendous guilt
involved.
          I am talking about the love of sex
and the love of God.

           So we get all these examples of preachers,
genuine men (mostly men) who swear their love
for our Lord in Heaven on Sunday morning,
but find themselves crawling down a sidewalk
on all fours chasing an attractive set of buttocks
on Wednesday night.
          Or kneeling in a darkened room staring
through one-way glass, as a hooker he has 
hired strips and exposes herself... on the other
side of the glass... and masturbating.
           
          
           And then we get intense weeping
sessions some months later, "I HAVE SINNED!"
And the sessions are quite moving
the preacher prostrates himself
and gets the whole congregation
to pray with him.
            These are the honest preachers, I'm
talking about.

            With others, I suppose, it's worse.
The ones who cannot admit what they are
doing even to themselves...
            They must live in hell.Not so much
because of the sex, I hope, but because
of the lying false front they put on -
the hypocrisy - pretending one thing
and doing another.
              It's important to remember,
the Lord of Hosts,Y H W H. Yahweh was
originally worshipped by mankind as a fertility
God - for the warm salty sacred rain
that inseminated between the furroughs of
the fields.
              There is nothing new in this
thinking. God originally was sex, fertility:
so there's nothing wrong with sex -
instead it's a matter of sanctification
and focus - and if that sounds vague
to you, that's O.K. It sounds pretty
vague to me also.

              So there need not be this
major rift - this, "I'm ashamed. I'm so guilty"
versus, "I am pure and beyond fault."
              Perhaps there are some activities
that should divide the human psyche
in this very way - but sex ought not to be
one of them.
             What sex is is an easy tool, an
easy fall guy, an easy way to manipulate
men and women, and make us feel shame.
Because:

    WE ARE MOST VULNERABLE IN OUR SEX

              It is easiest to make a group of people
pay protection money for their sexual activities.
For there is already an element of shame. It's
easy to stir up guilt in this ballpark... whether
guilt is appropriate or not.

              A dog feels no shame as he humps your leg;
he's just in a hurry, that's all.
               But we would feel shame doing the same
thing in public - why I'm not so sure. Maybe we're
just afraid of looking ridiculous...

               So.... how to heal this SPLIT. How
to make ourselves whole?
                This rift between the flesh and the spirit.
                 This split between man and God

                Right this second my mind is blank
I don't have any answers.
                 But I think it's important to put
the question out to you people - is this important?
Or do we enjoy watching the torture so
many ministers and priests go through?
                 To be honest with you, I do enjoy
watching the drama these guys go through
over purity, sex and sin. You have to admit,
it is entertaining!
                   And we all have the same drama
inside us - to a certain extent. I mean. everyone
who has been brought up through this
particular regime of Christianity - we all have
this basic drama.

                  When we  revive the original nature
of the Eucharist, I am certain
we will find this whole display I am discussing -
we'll find it incredibly silly.
                   I refer you to Robert Graves' book,
"What the centaurs ate. Or the introduction to
his two volume set: "The Greek Myths" . Or
best of all - read the Endnotes.
                    Also, read John Marco Allegro's
essays on early Christian religion.
                     When the priest or the Christ
said: "Eat this - this is my body.  Drink this,
this is my blood," he wasn't talking about
a tasteless wafer, or empty wine!

                     The churches know this. And the
Catholic Church definitely knows this - with
all the ancient sacred texts it still holds and
represses in the vaults of the extensive library
of the Vatican.
                     The sacred mushroom was
an essential part of the Eucharist from the beginning.
That was the bread - that is the body of Christ,
this is what helps us to attain Christ Consciousness.
                      Everybody knows this!  All
the priests, yet they deny and deny. Why?
                       Why?
                        The issue is control - population
control, and financial control.         
                                               The issue is also political control

            We've been hoodwinked! The problem
isn't really flesh vs spirit... The issue is:

WHAT HAVE YOU DONE TO THE EUCHARIST?

           Are we not adults? Are we not allowed
an adult Eucharist?
            No, the priests prefer to treat us
as children. They are the father and the flock
is his children.
             Well, you have seen what priests
in the past have done to children. They've
done it to us, too! We've been screwed!

              There is a force on this Earth
that does not want us to be fully
conscious!
                Fully conscious beings -
they are the worst consumers!  Why is
this? Conscious beings... and by this I mean
right now, those of us who partake of
Christ Consciousness... there is very little
we need to buy.
                 We are already one with the
Universe and the Father who is creating it.
How can we ever be deceived?

              

             











            The Catholics don't put on any such
displays. They've got it down. They are
organized.... They merely move their
peodofile (sp)  priests into another parish.
                       

            The old churchman, Origen, had a
solution: he cut his testicles off. 
                       I was in the process of doing the same
thing, but lucky for me, my wife intervened.
And today I'm glad she did.

           There's no point in pretending this
isn't a problem. This IS A PROBLEM - this
apparent SPIRIT versus FLESH split.

            I thought it was MY problem.
            I lived too much of my life alone,
and hence I thought I was weirder than I was.
I thought putting a rope around my testicles 
 was way out there...too eccentric...
too aberrant to discuss.
           Now, having done extensive research,
I realize I'm not alone. I'm not the only
weirdo on the block, and I thank God for
that!
           
             I have a tendency towards mania,
which I sometimes quite enjoy... if I don't
spend every penny I have.
              My manic/depressive nature
is also a sickness I share with many others.
               I told my friend Allen I was a
manic-depressive, he said: 

THE WHOLE WORLD IS MANIC DEPRESSIVE

This isn't  true, but there is some
truth in it. We all have these tendencies.

He said;  "Not everybody climbs church
towers, the way you do. Not everybody
howls and gets all the dogs
going at 3:00 A.M. Most people are just
smarter than you are this way... they are
not showmen.... and they know how to
keep their odd traits quiet."

              Or my friends Peter and Cathy...
When Cathy read one of my short stories
dealing with a sadomasochistic situation.
She said:

WE ALL FEEL THESE THINGS, IT'S JUST
WE DON'T TALK ABOUT THEM.

             
            Well, O.K., this is more like it.
I want to say I am very thankful.I am
not all alone.  I am not the only strange
duck. The whole flock knows strangeness.

            I started a blog, THE WHIP AND THE CROSS.
It shares articles sometimes with this blog.
But the name, "THE WHIP AND THE CROSS"
started out as a joke about Sunday morning
preachers who abase themselves
on Friday nights.
             It's really not that funny a situation,
but I am determined to laugh about it -
rather than just feel horrendous guilt and
shame.

             We have a SPLIT down the centre
 of our psyches between the FLESH AND 
AND THE SPIRIT
              This has to be dealt with
psychologically. We have to get to
the bottom of the story. I know the sobbing
confessions of preachers on T.V. are
kind of fun.
              Nevertheless we ought to take a
few steps towards resolving the madness.

              Rather than quote whole
Gospels from the Nag Hammadi Library -
the Christian Library dug out of the sands
of Egypt 68 years ago,
I'll quote shorter passages...
               All the passages I quote
will be from what was written on the
top of that cliff, that place I
consider to be holy - Temple's Gate,
that  Place of Power, that place
where the Lord of Hosts
speaks.

         I tend to type up the text
exactly as I wrote it down originally.
I was in a higher state then, so
I don't want to do much editing now.


The text itself:

        Jesus said: "The Kingdom of the
Father is spread upon the earth
and men do not see it."
         "There is nothing that shall
not be revealed and there is nothing
covered that shall remain without
being uncovered. "

          "The wise man throws his line into
the sea, and out of many fish, keeps
One only."
           "See Him who was not born of
woman; prostrate yourself upon 
your face and adore Him;He is your
Father."

          "You shall stand as a single One
with all my other disciples, and with Me.
For he who attains to Me shall know
Eternity.



      INSERT TEXT

REALIZATION IN THE EAST, ASYLUM IN THE WEST: AN ASIDE

 An Aside:
_________
Note: The following is an aside or a further
         introduction
         which is not part of any gospel.    

                     I won't pretend to know what was
meant by that utterance. I have some
ideas,but I'll re-think and share
them later.
           All I can think of now is -
there is a total ego death
when Realization comes to a person.
In that sense, a person's particular
ego is annihilated when he comes
to realize the ground of his being,
which is Christ.... (if you think in Christian
terms).
             If you are Buddhist and you
realize your ultimate identity, and
you say, "Finally it has happened to
me, after years of trying ...
I have come to satori.... I realize
what I am... I am part of the one
suchness... I am Buddha, and I have
always been Buddha:  "Between
heaven and earth, I alone am!"
                If you say such things
in the East, people congratulate
you.... They say, finally you have
got it. Your life will not be so
constrained anymore....
               In the West, our western
culture, if you say: "I know my
ultimate Identity! I have Realized.
I am Christ! They're going to put
you in the booby hatch - by that I mean,
put you in an asylum.
               I've been there. I know.
But not for quite the same reason.

               The fact of the matter is,
however, that when you have read
the Gospel of Thomas, the Gospel of
Philip, and the Gospel of Truth....
you'll see - the earliest form of the
two religions are not that different.
        When you hear Christ state:
"I shall be as he is, and he shall be me,
and the hidden things will
be revealed to him..." (Gospel of Thomas)
   You'll see there's a basic similarity.... 
And that is not so surprising.  Buddhist
monks were in the middle east, when Jesus
Christ (or the Essene "Teacher of Righteousness")
was teaching. He was aware of Buddhist principles.

        There may be many paths to the top of the
mountain, but there is only
one Truth, when you get there.
          There is only One Ultimate Consciousness
on this our earth, probably only one in the
Universe itself, and that is the mind of
the mortal being who Realizes Mind and becomes
a beautiful reflection, a mirror image
of the Mind of the One Who Is Creating Us...
and then you have stepped into the mirrored
Bridal Chamber... and that is joy, bliss,
heaven ----  because you are one with God.

         Meister Eckhart: "The eye with which
you see God is the same eye with which God sees
you. It is a situation of reflection,
a  knowledge of total acceptance
and love in your Home, which is the ground
of your Being, your new Identity."
           Ultimate Realization is a change of identity!

             OK, these things must be experienced; they
cannot be explained.  And you sound like
a fool and an idiot, as soon as you
attempt explanation.
             One tries to share and show generosity,
but every true Teacher knows, when you attempt
to explain, you just appear idiotic, and you
lead someone else into misconception...


              So I must stop talking. Let's get
back to the words of Jesus Christ, as expressed
by the Gospel of Thomas, but changed and
re-written somewhat at Temple's Gate.
       

           
       

WAS I WRITING THE NEW TESTAMENT? WHAT WAS WRITTEN ON THE CLIFF-TOP.....WORDS FROM TEMPLE'S GATE

PART 3

The text itself:


         Jesus said:   "Now I must leave you for a while.
                            A little while and you shall not
                            see Me: and again, a little while, and you
                            shall see Me, because I go to the Father."

Jesus said: "Remember this parable I teach.
 There was a rich man who had much money.
He said, "I will use my money that I might 
sow and reap and plant  and fill my storehouses
with fruit, so that I lack nothing." This
was what he thought in his heart.
And that night he died. If you have ears,
hear Me."

The poet said: "I have been wealthy."
Jesus said: "But you know not yet true
Wealth, which is what you seek. True
Wealth you shall find in the midst
of poverty, and you will marvel
at its Beauty, this Gem cast in mud
and sleep."
           "I took my stand in the midst of
the world and in flesh I appeared to men;
I found them all drunk, I found none
among them athirst. And my soul was
afflicted for the sons of men, because
they are blind in their heart and do not
see that empty they have come into
the world and that empty they seek
to go out of the world again. But now
they are drunk. When they have
shaken off their wine, then will they
repent."

        "If the flesh has come into existence
because of the spirit, it is a marvel;
but if the spirit has come into existence
because of the body, it is a marvel
of marvels. But I marvel at how this great
wealth has made its home in this
poverty."

The poet said: "Friend, in this darkness,
this dark night with the lashing wind I
sense many presences unseen that seem
to threaten me. What will I do when night
comes again, and I am without You?"

Jesus said: "Take no thought from morning
until evening and from evening until morning
about what you shall do. Sufficient unto the
day is the evil thereof, and no worse evils
will beset you another night than tonight already
have come to you. You are a strong man; you
threw your body into the ashes so that you
could conquer fear. Now if you would 
also die in your mind,
lend Me an ear."
           
"Many times have you desired
to hear these words which I say to
you, and you have no other from
whom to hear them. There will be 
days when you seek Me and you will
 not find Me. But once you behold
the Son of the Living One, you shall
not fear."

         "If you become as a child you
shall know the Kingdom, you shall
become higher than John who was
of a woman born. But you shall be
a child of the True One, twice-born;
born anew to see a new Day, and new
Heaven and Earth arising within you.
Father Abraham saw my Day and was
glad. But verily, verily I say unto
you, before Abraham was, I am."              

        "Drink the waters of the fountain
  I have dug, and you shall be as I am
And being what I am, I shall breath
into you new Breath. I shall be your
Comforter; I will not leave you
comfortless. You shall know Me
through My Word, and you shall not
taste death."

                 This is the promise that I give
to men: that each shall reap as he sows;
evil fruit from evil seeds; greatness
from holiness; sorrow from greed;
do not lie and do what your soul hates;
for you must eat what you have grown
on your own plate; only you shall know
what to leave and what to take; be
your own guide."

        "Yet I am always with you, nearer
than you think; and when you replace
an Eye for an eye, not in vengeance,
and not in pride, then you may see Me
as I always am, throughout unending
days and nights, I reach to you My
hand; I offer you My Sight."

        "If those who lead you say that
the Kingdom is in the heaven of the sky,
then the birds of the heaven will precede
you. If they say to you: "It is in the sea,
then the fish will precede you. But the
Kindom is within you and it is without
you. If you know yourself, then you will
be known and you will know that you are
the sons of the Living Father. But if you
do not know yourself, then you are in
poverty and you are poverty."

         "The Kingdom will not come by
expectation; they will not say 'see here,
or "see there". But the Kingdom of the
Father is spread upon the earth and
men do not see it."

WAS I WRITING THE NEW TESTAMENT? ................YOU TELL ME!

Friday, October 25, 2013

             The thing is... and I want to be honest, the place
we're stepping into is too pristine to be soiled...
the thing was... I thought I was writing the 
New Testament.
       A number of my friends knew this, and I guess most of
them wrote me off... as having finally stepped over
that Edge I had been working all my life.
        Most of them, I suppose, believed I meant it,
and they figured: "Oh well, this is a quirk, likely in time 
he'll get over it... and even if he doesn't he's fun
to be with... he's just a bit mad, that's all.
        Others, I suppose, thought I was a full-blown
psychotic and getting dangerous to be around.
And they weren't entirely wrong either.

         The problem I was having on my own is this:
 I knew I hadn't written some of this  material. And I truly
believed it was the Lord of Hosts who was filling 
in the blanks when a text stumped me.
         Because that's how it happened... I'd follow
a text along until the text went into an
overly complicated doublethink... that no
one would be able to get through, or at least
that I couldn't.
          And I'd sit on the edge of the cliff,
my spine straight, and let my mind clear,
let the internal Eternal River Ganges
wash all thoughts clean... I truly
became the empty vessel.
          Twenty or so minutes later (I had
no sense of time during moments like that)
I'd look at the text again... and as I
looked once more closely at the text
the clouds would open and the sun would blaze
down upon the pages and I'd start to write.
          When I felt the holy Presence,
I went back to work... and my hand flowed
and His Hand wrote... and some time
later I'd put the book down.
           I'd  return from the City of the ancient words,
the primordial  City which was becoming
the future  Holy City on a hill. The
two times merged into One Present time,
as they always do when one is deep
in meditation.
           The ancient was redeemed by the new,
and the new was washed clean by these
ancient words of Truth.
           Ancient Jerusalem was becoming
New Jerusalem, and the bells were ringing
in the mind of God;  and some kind
of glory was taking place around me.
The sky opened and the angels were singing.
            There were times when I was
afraid to take my eyes from the page
of the book, and look around me. I was
afraid of what I would become.

          
        The blanks that He filled in were 
sometimes three pages long.  Once again I'll say it! 

I WAS JUST UNDERSTANDING THE TOP OF THE
PAGE, AS MY HAND WAS ALREADY WRITING THE BOTTOM OF THE PAGE.


        These days we  know that many writers have
had the experience of channelling. This event
I was experiencing was somewhat similar. Except I
was channelling  I AM THAT I AM
 Our Father Who Art In Heaven,
the Lord of Hosts, the God of Israel, the God of
Albion and the Americas, the Lord of the Meeting
Rivers, Yahweh, Jehovah, JAH, the Great One who
rules the clouds and who speaks to us with total
Knowledge and understanding.
        This One was who I was "channelling"
kneeling half-naked on the granite of the Laurentian
Shield, getting cuts on my knees and hands, the
One who was speaking through me was 
The One Who Is Creating Us. There was no doubt
at all about that.
         
          The experience was too much for my young
mind and my unbalanced sense of self,
my grandiose self-esteem and my utter lack of
self-esteem.

         It occurred to me as I grew older and
more balanced and mature: there are too many
"my" words in the above paragraph, and other
paragraphs like it.
         Whatever was going on, it had very little
to do with me. For I know what I am. I am an empty
vessel - who is highly trained in literature and law.
I am told the Japanese have a saying: 

"THE PERFECT HOST IS  THE ONE WHO 
IS NOT THERE AT ALL."

          That's what I was: the perfect host, the empty
vessel,  the flute the wind could
 play a note through, the bell that was rung 
by the Lord of Hosts.

           And, of course, some days I was not.
When you see the text start to repeat itself
too much... when the words are repeated in a 
manic and obsessional way, that was me
writing.
           When the same point is made
three times over, that is what I wrote alone.
The record was on skip.
           I guess someday someone
is going to have to edit this  manuscript.
           If so. it is important that that person not be
a person from any particular sect - a person
with a religious chip on his or her
shoulder. Or, worse, an agent of the old
Empire church with a mission to
supress. A mission to suppress the Truth 
and change it to  statements which are comfortable,
easily lucrative, and convenient.

           Enough about me! I no longer
feel that dreadful seriousness I was feeling
a few days ago.
           This stuff is not about me; it is for you
to decide what it is...

          The other night I got up on stage and
I sang some of the songs I had not sung
for fiteen years.
          The crowd's applause was not just
applause. It turned to cheering...
 I realized these people liked
me more than I liked myself. 
          And it was all about them, 
these people who listened,
not about me. They were the
ones who would carry the song and let it fly.
These are the people -  you are the people
 who will carry the dream.

           
            So I feel much lighter about
this whole situation... about continuing to release 
some of the words  which passed through me 
up at the cliff top of the hut.
These are the words that were 
written at Temple's Gate.

         
 And so:
         

The poet said: "Lord, you are the Christ, 
the  Anointed One, the True One of God,
I love you. I think I am beginning to
understand."
Jesus said: "And yet you shall deny
Me."
The poet said: "I am not Peter."
Jesus said: "Are you not? You are
only a common man, that is why I
teach thee, because of your simplicity.
Peter was not unlike thee."
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."
Jesus said: "Time alone will reveal
what you shall be."
The poet said: "I will not deny Thee."
Jesus said: "Then take up my cross.
I think it will be somewhat heavy
for thee. At least do this: write what
I say to you faithfully. Then you will
have done all I ask of thee. Yet if
you truly are one of the courageous
ones, you will see Me."
The poet said: "Lord that is what I
need."
Jesus said: Only so may a man be free.
By shouldering the ultimate responsibility
and learning to be his own Authority. For
all true Authority comes from Me. Yet
I am what you are. There is no need to
travel far to see Me. Look upon the
Living One while you live, learn this
secret, and death will not come to
thee."



        


         Reading the words the True One
spoke, and knowing the appreciation
of friends... I am moved to tears. 
I am so thankful.
         A weight has been lifted 
from my shoulders. I am 
so very grateful.



                                      (C)2013 by William G. Milne
                                       Text is not to be duplicated
                                        without notice.

AN INTERLUDE IN THE CLIFFTOP GOSPEL STORIES, A CONFESSION OF SORTS

INTERLUDE IN THE STORY OF GOSPELS AND CHRIST CONSCIOUSNESS

             

              
                       Brief Statement of Facts:
             ____________________

             If you've been reading the Roving Reporter Rants
stories, you already know me pretty well.  You know that
if it makes a story better, I will exaggerate. Especially if I can inject some humour into a story, I'll do it, at all costs.
            I was a young man at the end of the 1960's,
and we all know plenty of drugs were consumed in that
period of time.  Many of the drugs that were taken
in 1960s and 1970s, and even many of the drugs
consumed today are substances derived
from what I call The VISION PLANTS: peyote, a cactus sacred to certain Indian tribes in the south western
United States, Mexico, Peru, and many other countries;
marijuana, sacred to the Rastafarian sacred movement in Jamaica. The Rastamen were made famous
by the music  of Bob Marley and many other bands,
too many to name right now; the sacred mushroom
was the holy plant of the early Christians.
             I was born in Canada, but I grew up in Jamaica
 in the same Parish as Bob Marley, and where I lived
is just a few miles from the shrine where Marley is
buried.
             Also, I'll be promoting reggae and Rastaman music
 music through Walker Ballantine's "Songs That Cook" feature on Facebook, a series, which I've just started to do again, because some kind soul (Willie) fixed the gaff.             I wrote a blog article called, WHY ARE THE VISION PLANTS ILLEGAL? THE VISION PLANTS ARE ILLEGAL BECAUSE THEY MAKE YOU SEE.

             I also write on the PSYCHOLOGY of various
sexual fetishes, some of which I share... Some of these fetishes I find truly embarrassing - and SHAME is a big part
of certain kinds of sexual obsessions, and there
is no easy way to discuss shame. 

            I have also been diagnosed as having
a Manic-Depressive illness.   And when I'm full of mania
and drinking Canadian Rye Whiskey, I have a tendency 
to climb church towers at 3:00 A.M. and ring the bells
and wake up most of the people in whatever  town I've
happened to be in.
            So I've spent plenty of nights in the slammer
as a result.

            
            
             The early Christians used the sacred mushroom
Amanita Muscaria. That's the mushroom you always see
growing in fairy tales.  The Christ himself, the Anointed
One, has always been closely associated with the
sacred mushroom.
             More than one researcher has gone so far
as to state that Jesus Christ actually was a mushroom.
See johnallegro.org.And that the sacred mushroom
formed a symbiotic relation with mankind,
that was the birth of mankind's 
Consciousness of God.


              I wanted to make these statements
in order to be honest with you, before I present
any more of these writings which emerged out of those
 holy materials, and that holy site.
             The cliff overlooks a special lake that our First Nation's Peoples have considered sacred for thousands of years. 
             There is archeological evidence to this effect. I'll cite the name of the book . I didn't write the book that presented this evidence.

             Every since I was six years old, I have always
 attempted to tell both sides of any story.
              Then I became an attorney, and really it is as
an attorney that I am writing right now - presenting
the side of the Christ story that has never been
told. These ancient gospels have been oppressed
by the early church of the Roman Empire.
               The story of the Christ, the Consciousness-
bearing Anointed One of man and God
has been twisted so that organized religion
could be highly profitable could be an agent of social
control.
             The history of Truth in the West, and the Truth
of the Holy Grail will become more and more clear,
as the decades pass, with or without any argument
that I can make.
             





            .


                 There is a chair carved by the
winds to make a comfortable seat
for any person with an aspiring mind, any seeker who
needs help.
            Above and to the west, a light glows
and on the the plains below, a gloaming
shines  through the early mists... and the
fogs from the pine forest in the lower valleys.

        I'm not going
to worry about this any more....
Truly, right now I'd rather go
right back to telling funny
stories.

       I'll continue to present
the cliff top writings. I've been
fascinated by the Nag Hammadi Library
from the beginning.

Thursday, October 3, 2013    PLEASE NOTE... THE

NEXT ARTICLES ATTACHED TO THIS ONE

ARE NOT NEW TESTAMENT RELATED MATERIALS.  THESE WERE MISTAKENLY ATTACHED:  THE ARTICLES ARE FROM.. 

"ROVING REPORTER RANTS" WHICH IS AN

AMUSING BLOG, BUT NOT SPIRITUALLY ORIENTED

PLEASE DO AVOID THE FOLLOWING ARTICLES IF YOU ARE OFFENDED BY EXPLICIT MATERIALS

 

Albert King - The Sky Is Crying Live Japan 89

Friday, September 20, 2013

PLAYING JAZZ AND BLUES ON YONGE STREET.....SEX FOR SALE....ZANZIBAR WOMEN -------

 
        
                                                                                                                                                                           
               There are big differences between street level economics and high finance. But the basic principles remain the same.
                The inflation rate is supposed to be low
but the price of bread has doubled in the last two years.
Lies! Prevarication and damned lies! 

           Working with the band, Johnny Rock and the Angels, we didn`t always make sound financial decisions There were five or six people involved and we all had families, and if not families,we had expensive habits. We usually wanted something we didn`t have...
          But not always!
         Sometimes the delicate balance of friendship, good liquor and stimulants all mixed together into a flow experience, a free-flowing kind of jazz music  And when
that was happening, it was grand.  

  

           You can say what you like about the boulevards
of Barcelona, Buenas Aires, or 42nd Street New York.
But when the sun and stars opened above Yonge Street
in that Shining City north of the Great Lakes.... the
sunlight off the lakes, the gleaming and reflection off the 
new high rise buildings, this brightness shone within our eyes and heart and mind...And the music
pounded its rhythm and rhyme into the bright
clarity of street blues...  played in the darkness of
an old style tavern.
           This loud, howling music ran through our arteries and veins along Mainstreet.... the Mainstreet that flows through the Americas, north and south and central.... one music converges like water - rivers mix with different rivers - one music flows.
         Latin music, Caribbean, hard-edged Rock, R&B, Blues, Punk to Techno to Rap  and on always, forms mixing together, Rock Reggae, each deriving one element from each another... showing the Cosmos what Cosmopolitan means.
         And of course, it all starts with gospel, gospel
and the early blues - one man and one guitar , sitting
in an alley somewhere...singing away his despair.        
         No money, that`s one form of the blues...
your woman`s left on the midnight bus...she wanted
to head south on the train... but the government`s taken
 the train...
         The only logical thing you can do is sell
your wedding ring... and that might keep you in spam and
liquor  for one more day.
          BAD, times are bad - I`ve been squeezing those
coins so hard... the moose ran away, the queen slapped me and the buffalo screamed in fright.
          I pawned my guitar. A beautiful neck on it, an old
Gibson hollow body; then I got arrested, was stuck
in jail, and I lost the pawn.
       
          We all got troubles. And those of us who think
they have no troubles, they haven`t seen the
whole picture yet...
           Either something`s waiting for you around
some corner to jump you and take your shoes... or
the woman you want is disappearing
around some corner.

           I ran into a Scotsman at Spiro`s Cafe. He
showed up all ragged and he looked like he just crawled
out from under a bush somewhere.
           He slept on a park bench in the east end.
 A gang of six teenagers attacked him
and stole his coat and suitcase: 

           "Then  they went for my six pack of beer
and my boots, that`s when I started to fight...
At times like that, your tactics aren`t pretty,"he said.
            I laugh, "I know what you mean. What did
you do?"
            I bit the first guy`s thumb damn near right off...
I gouged the second one in the eye with a stick...
I whacked one fella in the temple with
the steel toe of my boot... I had the steel toe right over
my fist...
          One was bleeding, the other was screaming..
and I started ran after the rest of them in my stocking feet." 
          We laughed and I bought the guy a few beers.
We drank them at Spiro`s.  Spiro joined
us at the table.
          Then he lead me out into a little yard behind
the bar... and we cracked the six-pack which
he`d stashed.   We drank his beer...
we were beginning to enjoy ourselves.
           A woman came down the alley wearing
a long winter coat in the summer...she joined
us and sat on a stump beside us...
           So the day was turning out all right,
after all. 
           She had a good sense of humour.
She took a drink...But it was when she took her coat
off the day really improved...
           She had tight powder blue pants on,
of a light terrycloth type material, which hugged
every curve. Her top was powder blue also and
of the same material.... Her figure
was outstanding... 
            What was driving me crazy was -
she had a distracted air... almost as if she
was moving in her sleep.. and was
unaware of  what a knockout she was...
             The conversation was over
between me and the Scotsman...
all I could think of was jumping her,
pulling her down in the fields like
a lion does a wildebeast, and
feeding on her until the orgasmic
moment passed.

                Rhythms of the river, rhythms of the sea, rhythms
of the City of Man, the City of Women.

          The scene honked, blasted , ran and crashed
thru the sharp electric light. The music ran into the heart of the year... Until the year we were living was all years,
this very day ... all the way back to the time when there was no history, and the original Ancient City played "The House of the Rising Sun" for heavily made-up,perfumed and lipsticked women, lounging by the waters of Babylon.
           The people who emerged passing on the street were Archetypes, the gods of human psychology rising out of the original sea...through everlasting mists...   the ancient city
resounded in this new one.

        

           As usual it`s ` Urban Survival` at street level... Needle in the arm level. Machetes at 3:00AM level... and gunshots on the fire escape, hookers with crack  
pipes on the roof out back, just up the seven stairs...
        This is the level I lived at, this was the
hopeless disaster I came to love...
where suicide is always a possibility, and
passionate love can blossom in an instant.


               THE MUSIC FOR THE STRIPPERS
DOWNSTAIRS WOULD WAKE ME UP AT NOON...
I`d throw some water in my face... and stumble downstairs
to where the bright summer sun would slap you in the forehead  and you`d stagger back and lean against the
hot bright glass outside the mirrored tavern.
            I`d lean back beside the hookers, and we`d laugh
a bit, and tell highly suggestive jokes, dirty and
otherwise... and tell stories about who chased who 
naked across the asphalt roofs with the leg of a chair in his hand.
            "And he was a paying customer, man!" Ruby says,  "And,Peter, did I marry him?"
            "Not yet Ruby, not yet..."I said.
             "Then why he acting this way?"she calls out, seeming to be complaining as she rubbed
my groin right at the packed traffic jamming passed...
and people looking out and watching close,
as I stood swaying in my pants,
between swats and grabs and feels...
 Ruby steps forward in her spiked heels
leans forwards and thrusts her breasts in
the face of a young man in  the back seat 
of somebody car.
             "Suki yelled out, "Watch it!  Cops!"
So Ruby adjusts her satin blouse...
              But no, it`s merely Ezmeralda, our Jamaican
lady cop, who walks past and gives me a wink. and
steps past through the tavern door to go downstairs... 
She walks downstairs where the male
strippers dance, and where Mike has his Greek souvlaki
and steak and burger stand...  I can still taste the steak
sandwich and I want one even now as I write this.

          Ezmerelda would go downstairs in hot-looking plainclothes to see who was selling what and who was shooting what quantity of heroin, or the new synthetic drug,
China White, which was a fentanyl-PCP mix which
would put you right over the moon, if you snorted just
a tiny line...
         And this fine looking woman sweetly asking
around... "Do you know where I can get some?"
          And some men falling for her tender trap, whisked
from our comfy bar right into the dark cells of the Don Jail
in an instant.
          None of us  would talk to her about anything serious,  naturally, and she took this as a given, an understood fact.
           She became part of the scene down there. She
preyed upon the newcomers and the crazies
who from time to time lost their minds.

             "Ruby says, pulling  at me, "Let`s step back into your
office... I`ll relieve this burden for you....Make you ready
cheered up to face the day. Just for you,
Johnny ---only ten dollars. But keep it a secret,"
she whispers in my ear.
             "Not right now, Ruby," I said. "I need buy lots of wine..."I`m pulling back and stepping away.
             "Aw... Johnny, you know and I know you want it."
             
              I`m walking south along the wide sidewalk...
sun gleaming off the chrome of cars, sparkling and spot-lighting off the windshields.... Twenty feet away
I shout back to the girls, "You almost had me this time, Ruby!"
              I hear laughter behind me...catcalls and the 
shouted taunt: "Next time... you don`t
 have a chance!"
              The young women shriek with laughter in their
miniskirts and spandex pants... all of them
wearing stiletto heels. One or two are looking cool
in sunglasses.
 
               I stop at the red light at Yonge St and Dundas,
catch my breath.  Ah, what a marvellous morning!
Bottles of sparking wine to purchase... strippers
to watch, a bright red gleaming Gibson guitar to caress
 and music to play on stage... in the long
dark cavern of the Zanzibar, giving out to the
sunny street...  

       A different kind of Eden can be found.

                              ***********

             
    
          

Wednesday, September 18, 2013

CONNNED INTO GUILT, PAYING FOR FORGIVENESS

I have built up quite a traffic jam of unfinished drafts. This is the first of a series of short articles, called

           

      WRITER`S NOTEBOOK




           The Mechanics of Shame:

        

          Yes, it`s a strange world...strange and mysterious.
And odd things happen, too.

      This is so basic and simple, that it`s hard
to understand. Nobody sees the obvious.
When we get too close to a subject, we get
blinded to what is going on.

       Despite being a necessary act, sex and discussing sex is still  kind of taboo...   BUT it is the centre of our existence,  centre of our bodies, too, and the tree at the centre of the garden.
         And it`s  "bad" if we talk about it too openly.
I`m amazed that after all we`ve been through, this is
still the case.
        Yet the PLEASURE INCENTIVE  is how Nature
organizes and directs the things we do.

       We feed ourselves because it feels good to eat....
the Pleasure Incentive runs almost every aspect of our
lives.....

        Even single-celled organisms follow  pleasure
as they  hunt down food and devour it.
 it feels good to eat food and to have a full stomach.
         Necessary activities, like sex, would be a chore
if there was not pleasure involved
          We are engineered internally so as to do the
activities that ensure the survival of our  species.
         Eating and procreating - two activities that we feel
pleasure doing:  two activities essential to our survival.
 
         The basic question - is this: how can we
feel guilt for something that is at the core of
our being, something essential to the species,
an activity that nature gives us the
PLEASURE INCENTIVE to do.
         Feeling guilty for having sex is
like feeling guilty for eating, or feeling shame
because you need to take another
breath.
        We might as well say,

"I APOLOGIZE FOR WHAT I AM."

        And we do apologize

But this, exactly, is the SCAM:

     "We`ll absolve you of your guilt, we`ll wipe
your slate and your soul clean. But you must 
pay us for forgiveness."
       We`re supposed to pay for forgiveness
to exactly the same people who convinced us
sex is evil.
            
          An analogy is this: a person shoves a 
grenade up your ass . And now the same
person is making you pay to
get it out.
          Does this sound reasonable to you?

           It`s like the protection racket,
only worse.

          Since you`ll always have to have sex,
you`ll always have to pay to be cleansed.
         The clerics have had an unending source 
of income - from the beginning, the dawn of man.
          With this sort of cash rolling in, you can
build things. Basilicas can be built.
          Basilicas and bank accounts.

Sunday, September 15, 2013

TRY A MINDSHOCK! EXISTENTIALISM AT ITS MOST BASIC ................TRACKING YOURSELF.

                                        TRY A MINDSHOCK!


EXISTENTIALISM AT ITS MOST BASIC





             it`s good to remember that we live in the
midst of inexplicable Mystery all the time.                                                
             We live on a rock that`s travelling something like
eighteen thousand miles a second through space.
              The sub-atomic world is a not just different than
we thought it to be; it`s  stranger than we CAN rationally
analyse  it to be.
               How can the rational mind understand chaos theory?
                Rigid thinking will not get us there.
                 "Anyone who thinks he can understand
quantum physics, does not understand quantum physics."

          It`s a seething whirl of infinitesimal particles and
charges that  appear at unpredictable times and places.
And these miniscule charges and waves or particles
appear at unpredictable times  to be CONSCIOUS
            Consciousness can be encountered in
places you`d never expect  awareness to be.
              I have encountered  mind
in places school and science insists
it cannot be.

         We are not in a position to make
"final" scientific statements
about anything.

      We can say X and Y behave this way
together most of the time.... but, if you bring
p1 into the equation, all bets are off. And if
Z is anywhere nearby, forget about it!     

           
        
       
              Let me ask you a question. If
there mysteriously appears to be consciousness
in the microcosm, is it not possible
there is consciousness in the macrocosm, also?                        
              If you spend long enough  in the bush
watching the water, and watching the birds
(as they watch you), and watching the skies...
 And if you have no radio, phone or T.V.,
you will be surprised at what you may see.
               For one thing, your telepathic
abilities increase dramatically.
               You know when someone is going
to visit you, long before they appear.
                 Other forms of consciousness
may well approach you, as well.

            
                PREJUDGE NOTHING, UNLEARN EVERYTHING  **

             **  This is Rule 3 in the School For Mystics, what
we call our, "Foundation Rules." There are not very many
of them. 
                                            

                 One of my favourite mystics
we talk about in the School For Mystics
is Meister Eckhart 
                 He said: 
                
       "THE EYE WITH WHICH I SEE GOD IS THE SAME EYE
         WITH WHICH GOD SEES ME."  

           This is what I`m getting at... this is what you might 
start seeing in the bush.If you sit and watch
long enough, you might see yourself.

        

      But which self do you intend to see? 
       
           I choose to live in a mysterious universe, and so this is
how the universe responds to me.


Try this:       A MINDSHOCK

            Look into yourself long enough and you will
discover a mirror-like effect... in which consciousness
mirrors consciousness
             What your mind mirrors is your own mind,
and it is NOT your own mind.
              What is it that stares back at you in this
immaculate mirror within? 
                                 *************
          


            

       When  you are exploring  inner space,
it`s best to leave logic and rationality. You can`t catch a
catfish with a rigid bowl; you can catch a catfish
with a screen. 
         (There`s an old Japanese sketch to this effect.  I`ll cite the artist)        
       It`s necessary to explore with an open mind - a screen
has holes in it; it is not a rigid system.  This is what
mindshocks are about.... implosions that aid you
in apprehending fluid reality, implosions that aid you
in realization - so you can walk comfortably in this world of paradox
where we all live.
      
              

A FIELD TEST:             This is something else that you might try. Greet the
universe out loud... Shout out your greeting.
           Then ask a question at the sky and rock and trees.
If you can pay attention for twelve hours...if you pay attention
to the earth, and sun and clouds and trees and bush around you
and the birds and animals.... Give it twelve
hours WITH NO DISTRACTIONS...
           See if you don`t get an answer.................(if not, give it three days).
            
                                                                             
            The human mind is very powerful. The human mind
can guide reality,  inter-relating with the things
around us.

          I choose to live in a mysterious universe
          And so this is how the universe responds to me.

         This is Existentialism at it`s most basic.
          To quote Mohammed Ali: 

       "I TOLD EVERYONE I WAS THE GREATEST
                     EVEN BEFORE I KNEW I WAS THE GREATEST."

            This is the power of the human mind. 
            It in fact can actually change reality.     




NOTE:   TRACKING THE WOLVERINE, TRACKING YOURSELF                                                                                            


 *When you track a wolverine, he`s been know to circle around behind you and track you.
So you`re tracking yourself. You have to be extremely careful he doesn`t bite you in the ass
when he follows you following him.
       After he`s eaten his fill, he will bury his food the food but first he will piss all over it....and
His scent is almost as bad as  a skunk`s.  When he fights a bear, he goes right
for the balls. Since he`s faster and lower than a bear, he will often chase a bear
away from it`s kill.

        He`ll break into a solitary trapper`s cabin, eat all his food
and ruin the rest and decimate the place, tearing everything up.  You
get back to your cabin and your pillows are torn up; your long underwear is
in shreds, your blankets and your winter coat are torn
in half.  And the place reeks... from the nasty  fellow pissing everywhere.

        Dangerous as the wolverine can be, he`s never been known
to laugh out loud at human folly,..as far as I know. Also, he`s never been
known to hide in your bed and jump you and penetrate you  by
surprise when you arrive home and try to light your oil lamp
in the dark.
         This is what happens in the Wait-A-Bit stories, to Artie and
to several others.     
         BUT these are stories about the bush. And myths are born in the
wilds, because strange things happen there. I`ve seen stranger stuff
than the king of the weasels having sex with a human being.
          I won`t tell you these things all at once, because you`ll think
I`m crazy.
          So I`ll slip these singular events into my stories one
by one, like I`m doing now.
           These are stories about the bush, like a campfire
story, or a fishing story. Exaggeration has been known to
enter into these kinds of stories all the time.

     


                            
         
            


     

 

                                               

              
                





         




        


          
                        







                                                       The School For Mystics (C )2000 by William G. Milne
                                                        As a title and a term of art, as an internet process
                                                        of teaching and learning, as  a title of a collection
                                                         of articles and stories.
                                                                      

Tuesday, September 10, 2013

IT WAS DARK AS A COAL ROOM WITH THE CHUTE SHUT AND THE DOOR BANGED CLOSED------------------------------------------- HANK STUMBLES DOWN TOWARDS THE FLATLANDS AS THE DEVIL BEASTS HOOT AND WATCH

TALES OF WAIT-A-BIT            (Part 5)

_________________________________________________

1/

        Hank waits til his  dugout-foxhole  room-mate

falls asleep over his desk once more,

The bastard snores like a chain saw... no... louder with

whistles and roars, abrupt snorts and coughs, then long

silences.....

Hank the reporter listens so carefully he almost starts

scribbling notes again – instead he writes a sentence more

slowly: 
 

IT WAS DARK AS A COAL ROOM WITH THE CHUTE

SHUT, AND THE DOOR BANGED CLOSED

--- 
        HANK couldn`t see the fingers in front of his face,

could hardly find his nose to feel it...  He closed his jacket and

got ready to leave the enlarged foxhole. Frank Wilcox and

his dead Uncle Henry called it home.They still hadn`t found
Uncle Henry`s body.
        Hank still couldn`t believe, after the plane dropped
him off, that no plane would return there
for three months!  He still almost had a tantrum every
time he thought of being "trapped here in this
god-forsaken hell-hole for ninety days!"
         He couldn`t stand the silence.  The
silence really pissed him off. He shouted and screamed
and kicked things. He discovered he quite liked
howling and screaming...You couldn`t
scream and howl in New york City.  Despite this
one benefit, he thought:"I gave up my job
at the New York Times for this!"
         " SHIT!"
          Even now, after being here nine days -
which seemed like half a year - he still got the
screaming meemees, and he had to kick out
in all directions and grind his teeth. He would
like to have run someplace, but the Mackenzie
River is 17,000 miles long. And Wait-A-Bit
was not at the semi-civilized end of the
river. 
         You can get the screaming meemees
anywhere. People often get them in the
tropics, when the moon is moving to the
full.
         You can get the screaming
meamees in jail.
          "I gotta get out of here! This is
WORSE than jail!" Hank shouts, gasping for
breath in panic.

            If Artie or Mayor caught him having
of one his shouting, kicking and
dancing tantrums.... they both laughed
so hard they`d end up rolling in the
dirt and howling. The Mayor`d kick his legs up
in the air when he laughed, which only seemed
to make Hank more furious
           They laughed because they knew exactly
what Hank was going through... and this
just made more of a riot, since they`d experienced
it themselves.
           Everyone in Wait-A-Bit would have
a screaming fit, every once in a while -
all sixteen of them had gone through severe
panic - every couple of months.
            "Maybe it`s the unending silence,
when it`s not fly season, I mean. There
are no distractions here whatsoever."
            Frank the Mayor nodded his head
in agreement, then spat some tobacco
into the sand. The ants would like find
some use for it, "When you`re right,
you`re right," he said.
             "Let`s go see how the shine is
holding up. And maybe we`d
make a list of possible entertainments."
              Artie never needed encouragement 
to the cool dark space in his bar. The two
men went inside. They poured two drinks
of overproof and pineapple juice, each, down their
throats...They started thinking of things
for the list of Fun Things To Do.

The list started like this:
(1) Drink our shine;
(2) Howl at the moon;
(3) Watch the Devil Beasts
         and form strategies;
(4) Make bets on who flips out
          next.
(5) Visit Matilda`s caravan.                               (That`s a start).

            

        When the day turned to night, Hank,
the reporter from Maryland got ready to sneak

off out of the decimated village and walk

downhill the 3 or 4 hundred yards to the

lowlands by the big river....

He`d been told there were still a number 

of town boats turned over up down by river and chained

together “although the chain`s bout rusted out,. So they say, “
Frank   had said more than one time:

       “ Nobody goes down near the river at night
since we lost the heavy ammo... You need 50 calibre and  bigger
 guns to shoot the beasts when they gather and approach in
a crowd. "
      " If there`s any more `n one I wouldn`t try to shoot `em with my 303."
2/


         Frank pats the bulge under his right arm,
where he keeps his sawed off old Lee Enfield
under his grey tattered raincoat.

        " If Six or seven of the bastards are coming at us, 
we want the heavy barrelled
guns which our drunk pilot (`Flyboy`) burnt and bent, 
destroyed and twisted out of all recognition...by the heat
of the blast.  Just one 2000 pound
bomb will do that....And he landed what?Five?  Can you put
five in one cruise missile? Or do you just
drop em? He used enough,anyway, to clear the whole downtown
area to rubble, small pebbles and fine sand...
 Frank said.

"To bend a heavy gun barrel like that! Boggles the mind!
Fucks me right up when I think about it....
Being left up river here  defenceless like 20 lovesick virgins...
with only peashooters to defend our   virgin
assholes.... With those Devils smelling out our weakness.
We haven`t shot one of them in six months.
Half a mile riverwards, and  hard with the thought of
snouting us....They`re thinking of making a raid."

 Frank Wilcox mumbling into his
over-proof shine gleaming in a tin cup,
gleaming just like his crazy,sadistic eyes ---
If you look real close at him. You can see he`s not just
crazed and sadistic; he`s terrified...


3/

"What the hell did you just say?" Frank mumbles to himself
in a croak and a whisper... shuddering and chuckling with
dreamland frights and delights.....He`s asleep again.

HANK SNEAKS OVER TO THE DOOR, TIP-TOEING PAST
FRANK`S MACHINE GUN SNORE, CUTS OPEN the tarp
stretched taut and tied over the door hole --- With the tarp gone,
it looks just like the entrance to a tunnel.

He slices the cords open, slips past the tarp into the night...... lets the tarp waft closed again... doesn`t strap it back down,,,, kinda inconsiderate....

    HE FIGURES his movements are unseen, He`s sneaking off  down the Main Lane,,, not really hearing the whistles and high-pitched hoots, growling chuckles and low rough guffaws of the Wolverine “Devil Beasts” watching him stumble down the road to the flats below...
    The creatures whom the Indians call the Devil may or not be smarter than men – but the Inuit and the First Nations people who have lived with them for thousands of years, they think they are. They`re sure the Beasts know what the humans are thinking. Whether or not the wolverine is smarter than man, well, 
that`s not completely decided; the jury is still out on that.

One thing is certain, though, the ones rolling in the mud laughing 
so hard at Hank as he descended  right into their dens: 
  those weasels that night were smarter than this man.
                                                                                                                                                               
                                              ******************

   

 

 

TRACKING A WOLVERINE AND OTHER STRANGENESS

            

 *When you track a wolverine, he`s been know to circle around behind you and track you.
  When he`s eaten his fill, he will bury the food but first he will piss all over it....and
his scent is almost as bad as that of a skunk.  When he fights a bear, he goes right
for the balls. Since he`s faster and lower than a bear, he will often chase a bear
away from it`s kill. He`l break into a solitary trapper`s cabin, eat all his food
and ruin the rest and decimate the place, tearing everything up.  You
get back to your cabin and your pillows are torn up; your long underwear is
in shreds, your blankets and your winter coat are torn
in half.  And the place reeks... from the friendly fellow pissing everywhere.
        Dangerous as the wolverine can be, he`s never been known
to laugh out loud at human folly. As far as I know, also, he`s never been
known to hide in your bed or behind your door and jump you and
 penetrate you as soon you show up and your eyes have not yet
adjusted to the dark.
          But you never can tell.These are stories about the bush.
And myths are born in the bush, because strange things happen there.
I`ve seen stranger stuff than the wolverine - king of the weasel
family - having sex with a human
          I won`t tell you these things all at once, because you`ll think
I`m crazy. So I`ll slip these singular events into my stories one
by one, so you don`t write me off.
            ALSO, this is a story about the bush, like a campfire
story, or a fishing story. Exaggeration has been known to
enter into these kinds of stories all the time.

                          IT`S GOOD TO REMEMBER WE LIVE IN
THE MIDST OF INEXPLICABLE MYSTERY
ALL THE TIME.
            
              We live on a rock that`s travelling something like
eighteen thousand miles a second through space.
              The sub-atomic world is a not just different than
we imagined it to be; it`s perhaps stranger than we CAN imagine


It`s a seething whirl of infinitesimal particles and
charges that now  appears at times
to be conscious!
            Consciousness can be encountered in
places no one expects to find it.
              I have encountered consciousness
in places that school and science insisted
consciousness could not possible be.
              But what does our science know about
what is possible. 

            Let me ask you a question. If
there mysteriously appears to be consciousness
in the microcosm, is it not possible
there is consciousness in the macrocosm, also?
              If you spend long enough  in the bush
watching the water, and watching the birds
(as they watch you), and watching the skies...
 And if you have no radio, phone or T.V.,
you will be surprised at what you may see.
               For one thing, your telepathic
abilities increase dramatically.
               You know when someone is going
to visit you, long before they appear.
                And other forms of consciousness
may well approach you.

                 One of my favourite mystics
discussed  in the School For Mystics
is Meister Eckhart.  He said: 
                
       "THE EYE WITH WHICH I SEE GOD IS THE SAME EYE
         WITH WHICH GOD SEES ME."  

This is what I`m getting at... this is what you might 
start seeing in the bush.


            

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About Me

William Milne

As years go by, there are more and more things I find not to do. Silence is becoming essential, and loud music
Born in North Bay, Ontario, I grew up in Jamaica, West Indies, in the Parish of St. Anne Now back up north,  spend time in hut  on cliff top, paddling a light canoe, when available

After a few years of enforced restraint, ha! Ha! I'm going to do some singing on stage again, name - John Rock and the Angels  put out a CD called, "It;s So Serious!" Have to re-master. Now doing CD "Wild Kingdom - A Johnny Rock Retrospective" (double disc)

I'm just starting to work on the internet, so I'm slowly figuring things out, will release some stories and songs.

Check out my blog at zappadat.blogspot. com,
" Roving Reporter Rants" Nag Hammadi Gospels, Books - "Lovers, Fiends and Remembrances", "Tales of the Roving Reporter" Humor when possible. 

"I hope my angel will not come a fiend, as fiends so often rise in love affairs."   William Shakepeare

web page at www.rovingreporter.ca

which I need to develop along with Walker Ballantine's Facebook Timeline.

"The definition of madness is loss of a sense of humour." Hunter S. Thompson (God bless him!")

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