Transcendent Generosity

 

To restrict generosity to what your coffers can or cannot offer, is to miss Buddha's intent, by measuring oneself against the many noble philanthropists who have given from their coffers.

That is one kind of expression of generosity.  There are others.  And each manner of generosity is but a manner - the actual practice of any or another will increase the capacity for practicing generosity - according to that manner.

Karuna:  compassion, lovingkindness, a sovereign love - these both are, and give more possibility for, more generosity.  "I'm doing" or "I'm not" or "I can't" - are all assertions of ego.

There is generosity of time, or of thought or feeling, of visualisation, of word, of action - in breadth and in depth.  This is to be meditated on.  This is what is meant.  This generosity is conscious and intelligent, genuinely free of idiot-naive generosity, free of shoulds or musts, free of  trendy "tolerance"-peddling, or of any cult of political correctness.  Real generosity is sovereign in nature, an authentic expression of one's basic sanity, of Heart-Mind.

It is found and cultivated in stillness - not the deadening of thought but its enlivening through the discipline of first studying one's own mind.  There is no judgement here, just objective observation and reflection.  Concerning generosity with material wealth, however vast and impressive or comparatively humble: motives objectively considered reveal the inherent nature behind it.  It's not that generosity is in itself "wrong" - the reference point directing it may however be decidedly conscious or unconscious.  Some acts of generosity are driven by notions of compensation, or of guilt, or of control and domination, or of recognition and reputation, or tax benefits, or of a duty.  It can generate a good feeling or feeling of goodness, of being good, doing good.  It can also generate joy, enhance lovingkindness.

To differentiate and exercise discriminating wisdom, generosity is for meditation, in this one studies one's mind and what is moving it.  Real altruism is All-True or it is nothing.

Generosity toward strangers without or at the expense of one's person, or of one's family - or in the case of a head of State: at the disastrous cost of one's people and nation - is the neurotic and irresponsible experiment of a manipulative ego with issues.

Helper-Syndrome has nothing to do with generosity, yet always uses this as a cover for this destructive behavior.  There is no self-image in real generosity, there are no deals.  So if you build a huge clinic which becomes an institution of standing, you build it.  If you give your last dollar to someone in need, you give it.  There is already a law of reciprocation, you needn't look for any.  One needn't stack "points" - generosity comes from an inner wealth, not an inner poverty.

In meditating on this one expands toward oneself, toward those near, and those loved.  This cultivates the feeling and is authentic of itself.  The expansion builds outwardly toward community, toward one's own environment of sentient Beings, toward the world as one applies visualisation. It builds inwardly toward one's own past, present, future - without harboring wishes or desires in the conventional sense, just steadily cultivating lovingkindness.  It is not to deny or dismiss or belittle emotions - anger, fear, panic, concerns, preferences - it just transcends all of these.

It is not practiced according to rules or ideologies, it is the free expression and demonstration of following one's true nature.  The most generous thing one can do is to embrace and practice this, and transmit it by example to those hungering for a taste of benevolent reality.

 

Just For The Record

To clarify: If I appear to critically confront, expose (and publicly state as much) "The-Religion-Of-Peace" or its founding figure or its practitioners, it is not because I cannot differentiate the 7th century and centuries thereafter from the 20th or 21st century present - but rather because the aforementioned cannot and will not.

Apologists nothwithstanding (I myself was one for decades), I can support my assertions with those of a) imams and sheikhs of standing, and such clerics or practitioners themselves, affirming these; b) ex-Muslims (indluding ex-extremists); and c) those non-Muslim researchers who have studied and examined the matter in terms of its history and the present, before opening their mouths concerning Islamisation and the very real intent behind "The-Religion-Of-Peace".

Such sources used here may be English or German, Arabic with subtitles or just scenes which speak for themselves without need of extra narration. "Gratuitous slander" has no place here, and is neither needed nor welcome.

This is no idle pasttime on mine and others' part, bringing attention to an authentically present danger. I will not cease in this matter as I have only some little means to inform, nothing to enforce. Nor is it some "hate-rhetorical" negativism - the real negativism lies with a tyrannically dominating (and domineering) "politically-correct" culture and naively unconscious doctrine of "multi-culti" appeasement conformity which will stop at nothing to silence those of us with conscience.

Still, the awakening of public awareness - received or rejected, accomodated or thanklessly repudiated - carries with it a duty and a responsibility. In this day's pervasive climate of crass narcissism and ignorance, I am sworn to compassionately, creatively and constructively confront just such forms of tyranny, aggression and abuse as I am witness to - and where possible, prevail over it.

The same applies, equally, to the Gender-Mainstreaming Lobby or to the EU-obedient Merkel's insane policies - both being viciously hypocritical: the one inherently sexist, the other inherently racist.

Flame of Kalachakra

A dizzying scream builds in me, nauseous with empathy
I focus and take refuge in the Great Compassion.
I offer all this, disciplined and compressed into that flame
steadily flickering from the oil candle before me:
never extinguished, bearing witness, burning karma.
All other flames here come and go, this one alone remains
all hours and all days.  Into it goes all devotion and all prayers, hymns, mantras.
The sickness in my gut gives way to an iron strength.
The whole world is held between my thumb and index finger tips,
like the string end to a balloon.  And all the Great Ones
are centered in my heart, as I breathe, as I breathe.

That flame is centered in my gut, containing sacred syllables,
it goes where I go.  Practice never ceases, love's duty is Dharma.
Flame is in time and out of time,
the wheel turns, and the wheels:
My age unites with the Ages, timeless - the unbearable is bearable.
Nothing is in my hands, and everything.

Und jetzt "Maskularen" noch...

Feminist sein ist das nicht, was diese Göre in sich haben - mahnend
männerhassend treiben sie ihre Agenda, um deren Kollegen zu entmannen.
Friedlich devot, diese Nichtmänner, konform und compliant gegendert,
erspart den "Maskulanten"-Schicksal, zu aller Anbiederung bereit:
große Kinder mit Portfolien, allesamt moralisierend, mit Macht -
nur gar nichts steht dahinter vom geistigen Bewußtsein, von moralischer Kraft:

 

Das Frauen in der Politik die Besser*innen sind,
obwohl Genoss*in Merkel und ihre weibliche Kolleg*innen
sind der Beweis dafür, das Frauen eben nicht besser sind,
und auch - hier stimme ich den "Femen" zu - gar nicht anders,
als "die Männer".  Doch, von Männer ist kaum was mehr zu sehen,
da "Maskulanten" dürfen es nicht mehr geben.

 

Wahre Feministen schätzen wahre Männer und wahre Frauen gleich,
schätzen die Unterschiede, die jeweilige Stärke, Pendants und Austausch -
wahre Feministen sind wahre Erwachsene, stehen nicht auf Schleimen,
unterstützen kein Narzissmus, haben's nicht nötig, endlose Unworte zu erfinden.
Die Zwangsgenderisierung mit all ihren Neurosen, ist Industrie geworden - aber Vorsicht,
bevor Du Dir eine Ironie darüber erlaubst, denn: Hohn verstehen sie, Humor eben nicht.

 

Berufsbeleidigte sind die Schmiede dieser Empörungsthemen mit deren Schmäh
an alles was von Natur geschlechtlich ist, besonders Männliches tut denen weh!
Und schließlich, um "kämpfen zu müssen," für all das was längst gewonnen wurde,
muss man unerträglich selbstgerecht und selbstgefallen - nur nicht selbstbewußt, ohne Würde -
manipulativ durch politisch-Korrektheit, die richtige Ideologie begründen,
drohend mit Maßnahmen um ein Publikum zu vernebeln, eine Bevölkerung zu entmünden.



Gendermainstreaming ist für eine gesundere, bewußtere Zukunft eben nicht:
LGBT:  lächerlich genderlos bestimmend, tyrannisch! 
Und jetzt "Maskularen" noch - das sind die hetero europäische Kerle, so zu sagen;
Feminist wird zu "Femen," und mehrheitliche Geschlechtszüge erlöscht dagegen:
aus Trotz und Arroganz, aus Minderwertigkeits-Überlegenheitskomplexe, unsachlich
ignorant, fachlich wertlos aber bauernklug und pseudowissenschaftlich.



Dann sind wir Männer deren "Feinde" - Maskularen, sexistisch, hetero, traditionell,
und "rechts" auch noch, patriotisch, zuverlässlich, bodenständisch, gallant, romantisch - gell?
Doch lass die deren Genderwahn so treiben, "Antifas" auch finanzieren, Politik zum Witzfigur,
Welcome-Rapeugees, Abtreibung, Pädophile weiter dulden: nun warte auf Islams Kultur!
Das kommt immer näher und baut schon auf - da wird man sich wundern: wie hohl die Studien
von unreifen Inkompetenten, die deren eigenen Untergang so unbewußt vorbereiten.

 

The Morning I Killed Erich Honecker

One late morning in February 2016, I awoke from a dream. I'd been dreaming nice little dreams lately and sleeping well, as I normally do when I do sleep.

When I'm not working shift, most frequently evening duty (driving Tour for AWO), or writing poetry or short essays for my "Colfax Ave. Writing" Blog, or tracking and researching and posting and commenting on German/EU-ropean current developments, or visiting or getting visited, or attending funerals, or being there for my son(s), or making home videos for my two granddaughters who don't know I exist, or performing my prayers and meditations, or demonstrating every free Monday evening with Bärgida (Pegida-Berlin) and/or writing and delivering public addresses for the same - with screaming, frothing "SA/ntifas" at our necks separated by a massive police escort in our favor...

When I'm not doing these and have my week-day evenings off, my Tuesdays and Thursdays, on occasion even Wednesdays and/or Fridays as well, I'm training hard and mercilessly (the only time I'm ever seen sweating) at Krav Maga no-nonsense self-defense - and while I'm on that, that prior Thursday was a workout which topped anything I'd ever had in my life. (To think that I'd once entered the Army thinking I'd be getting just that...what a laugh.)

So late that following Saturday morning, I awoke from this dream. Whatever mixed sequences preceded it, this scenario was abundantly clear and in one decisive moment harrowingly real, entirely literal, in full detail. I was consciously, i.e., objectively dreaming and guiding it, as well as actively and emotionally involved in it - both, as does occsionally happen. Yet let it be understood, I stand by what I did in the dream and that I dreamt it, that it was "real" and at the same time symbolic of course - needless to say. What occurred, until I abruptly awoke from it (having to get up and allow for waking time before heading off to work), and how I interpret it, follows:



In a shabby little Berlin flat (not ours, only fictional), and only the front "hallway" at the entrance and a side room and a small kitchen, were my partner Rana, my son Joshua or Joshi, and myself - and Erich Honecker in person. He was already aged, had just lost his GDR and his position of power, he was sort of on the run, and he was wanted – dead. For whatever reason we knew that much, and for whatever reason we had him in our flat, unbeknownst to anyone. We were under no obligation or orders or instructions or contract to anyone - no Intelligence services, CIA or BND, none, nor against their intentions either - we acted single-handedly, entirely on our own. And decisively.
 

Rana and I were in partnership on this, I called the shots. Joshi was alright with it, as will be shown. We were occupied with how and whether and when we would make our move. Best I recall, Honecker came out of the side room chasing after Joshi, and that's where I took matters into hand. I grabbed Honi and pulled out a dagger I already had on me, slightly curved, very sharp and long enough for "Mack the Knife". And I stuck it to him in the back, in the right side of his back - it was terribly real, not even "surreal" but just real. I've never done anything like this before nor would again, and any prior dreams similar to this at all have always been more comic-book like and fantasy, this felt horribly real. I noted that to just "stick" would only hurt and I needed to go through with it and drive it in and kill him. And while it was in itself sickeningly against my nature - especially an unarmed and relatively defenseless, yet decidedly  dangerous, "elderly person" - I knew without further hesitation that this had to be carried through and I would take action and stand by it whatever the consequences. However, in the dream I also knew that, as his demise was wanted by the Federal State and the Allies both, I would not be prosecuted, so that wasn't even an issue.

I drove the knife in and really felt what that would be like, I did not relish this in the least, I did it because it had to be done. I recall muttering as I braced myself, "God forgive me for what I'm about to do - and stand by me in this, give me strength!"

He struggled and succumbed, I gave him another in his gut, or his chest, and let him fall onto a low bench. I let Rana know it was a done deed, and grimly humored her by commenting, "Well, the Intelligence services will come calling now to take me on their payroll, I guess." She gave me a nasty look communicating, "Like hell you'll work for them!" and I assured her I was kidding.

This was done but for one purpose: in service to Germany, to the nation, to the sovereignty of this people. Now. Today. And for a future. In confirmation of just that, as I went toward the kitchen where he lay on that low bench to check if he was in fact dead and not suffering further or faking it, my lad Joshi came to my left side and kissed my cheek and told me in Doitch, "Papa, I love you." The odd thing here was that he held something like an unlit, thick round white Advent candle against his lips and against my cheek as he "kissed" me that way, rather playfully child-like of him. (In reflection, that may have been "the future" kissing me with a clear symbol of the Church altar.)

I turned to check on Honi, assuming he was now deceased, and quite interestingly took his hand or laid mine on his and began to recite the Kaddish(!) over him, notwithstanding that he was certainly no Jew, and I had just murdered him by my own hand, and in cold blood at that. And notwithstanding that he'd had it coming. Still: Kaddish. But he wasn't still. His eyes went open, and all I thought was - "Oh, so he's not dead yet, no Kaddish, premature." Then he expired. And there I abruptly awoke.

 

So what do I make of this? While in the dream Honi was of course as mentioned, a useless defenseless unarmed old man, "no longer" dangerous - symbolically speaking however: he was the embodiment of a resurrected dinosaur which is dominating Germany today. (That other monster I could as easily have driven a knife into, namely his still living wife Margot now in Chile, had said Socialism would return and rule Germany. So I killed her husband, something I could only do - but at least that - in dream.) Honi is the evil of a Communism which wants to come back.

Far less are the irrelevant NPD or neo-Nazis the stinking cadavers of the Walking Dead we need to concern ourselves with, than are the Orks and Walking Dead of The Left, the Greens, the "Pirates" who advertise "Bomber Harris Do It Again!" and legislate and lobby for pedophila and gender-mainstreaming and Islamization and the flooding of "refugees" to out-populated Germany and EU-rope in general. And the SA/ntifa (schooled both by them and by the old fossils of the RAF) as they scream at us, frothing at the mouth: "Deutschland ist Scheiße - ihr seid die Beweise!" and "Nie wieder Deutschland!" and such, and worse.

All these and their antisemitism, their racism (driven by a gravely pathologically narcissistic nihilism of German self-hatred and fantasy about every other ethnicity) against actual native Germans and actual native Europeans (West or East) - and who with their verbal and real, physical aggression and proneness to actual violence, all the while courted, excused or overlooked, and coddled by the politcal elite, by the media, the churches, the trade unions, the establishment of the cult of multi-culti and Gutmensch political-correctness. Against dissent, against free speech and unmolested peaceful (or at least non-violent) assembly, against all contrary or confrontative inquiry, reflection, inspection or introspection. They exercise pressure, scare tactics, mob psychology and enjoy lobbying clout which is denied us by the malignantly maligning and fact-challenged, lying press and elite.

And they want our youth, they want the next generation - Honi was after Joshi, my Joshi. My Germany, my Germans. My Europe. What America does is out of my hands entirely, I am not even voting this election. The States are so self-secure and self-satisfied as a whole, they will as usual only even sense and feel what's coming much much later, and won't even get the effect until much later. Europe is now, Germany is now, Berlin is now. My Berlin. Here and now.

So I killed Honecker.

Destined For Dhimmitude

One says, some things die hard – like illusions;

still harder die the hard-won Gutmensch delusions.

While some follow a dream, others a hallucination;

whoever follows the EU-nightmare will lose a nation

to the chaos, planned or not, brought on by mass-immigration.

Illusions, delusions and hallucinations deny the coming Islamisation,

– political correctness and its denunciations takes its unnatural course,

grooming a culture of censure, censorship, all of whose natural source

lies with the ideological Left and its lies idiot-logical, concerning the Welcome

spread out at the expense of all, for a paralysing parasitic era which will come.

"The-Religion-Of-Peace" does not come without a price, it brings with it shari'a

under which the very notion of democracy and private religious choice is pariah;

which hardly a soul indoctrinated in the "tolerant, multi-cultural" attitude

would ever grasp – that as kafir s/he has but one choice: death or dhimmi-tude.

Conversion being the "best of options", though one finds it unlikely that so many

would renounce generations of free thought for an exotic intellectual slavery.

Nor would such risk death in Resistance – hence tomorrow's role of dhimmi

for those who, with broken wills and resignation, conform (as that is less foolhardy).

Not for these a conscious pride in nation or culture, tradition or personal dignity
– appeasement and arrangement whatever the cost, and that cost will be high.

Mosque after mosque ... churches closed or taken over; synagogues, temples: taboo;

Where then will you find your "multi-culti" under mono-culti shari'a, as Christian or Jew,

or Hindu, Buddhist, atheist or other? Where then your LGBT and "feminism", liberality –

your freedom to eat, drink and dress, to dance and sing as you like, farewell democracy?

If enslavement is bitter when it overwhelms by force, it's phenomenally stupid

when one drags oneself by the nose, eyes closed, into it through such insipid

intransigence, negligence, refusal to google and inform oneself of what is afoot;

sucking up all the taqiyyah of those who'll expect your submission via the dhimmi route.

Wake up now or when it's too late – or never, as the case may be:

just don't block the way of those willing to fight the tide of the status of dhimmi.

Pesach

A Tradition has it that as Moses sat in conversation with The Eternal,
Who had already revealed ehyeh asher ehyeh: that "I Am That which
ever was, ever is and is becoming, Source and Destiny" he contemplated
in silence the burden of a responsibility he did not consider himself
adequate to meet nor ever could be.

The voice of the Lord woke him from his fixed concentration.
The bush before him was just a bush now, but its light had never left his eyes
since the day he'd found it surrounded in flame without being consumed.
Now this voice with its stern force aroused him within himself out of the stillness.

"Moses, are you with Me?" came the question very plainly, and suddenly.
Already on his knees for hours and in dedicated attitude toward this Presence,
addressing him, a mere man, with a mere voice out of the unlimited Absolute
– he answered, “Yes, I am here.“

Abraham could answer like that, he was called The Friend of God, but Moses
was slow of speech and slow of tongue, he wasn't the best choice for the task.
"But Moses, are you with Me?" This confused him, he had answered.
"Yes, Lord, I am here, I am with you." What does He want from me, I'm here!

"Moses..." came the voice so naturally it shook him more than calmed him.
"If you are really with Me, remove that stone just to the right, behind you."
This he did, already perplexed, feeling foolish, he moved the stone there aside.
Out of the hole under the stone hopped a common frog. So simple. Who knew?

Still perplexed, Moses feeling like a carnival shill, God spoke very gently to him:
"Moses, you aren't with Me. You're with your family and with your flocks, you're
with your people, indeed you are with them and their suffering. You are all that,
but you are not with Me." Moses got it. He collapsed with his face in the dust.

"Moses, when will you get it? I am sending you forth because I alone know you,
but know : I alone am doing this, it is in My hands entirely."
The entire Pesach Tradition gives us, among other things – like a great Seder – this:
that this Relationship is not circular and redundant, but taking one somewhere.

 

That was revolutionary for its time. Not the Egyptian bondage is central, but the Exodus;
not the desert wandering, but Sinai, not the calf, but the formation of a people
with an identity among the nations. Just so, not the ghettos and the pogroms,
nor the Shoah, but the Enlightenment and the liberation – from bondage, from pogroms,
from ghettos and from concentration and death camps. Not losing but gaining a Home.

"Are you with Me?" is asked of each, now and every moment, while everyone
is overwhelmingly concerned with debates ad nauseum, over "whether He is with us"...
In this there is no faith, only religion, only repetition. The proof for this people,
however, is in the continuum, ever moving, ever in development, ever growing.
In this maturation lies the real Pesach.