No Borders - No Walls - No Heart - No Balls

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Cologne's Bishop Woelke on the Shopping Stress Facing Christians during the Rush.

Let me give you in one word of English, what this typical German bishop of today is telling us as a pre-Christmas message. Is he addressing, from his position as shepherd of the flock, the real stress of Christians who are being persecuted and murdered by scores, by hundreds, and by thousands – hundreds of thousands where IS is concerned – in regions dominated by "The-Religion-Of-Peace", or that their churches – Protestant (Methodist in Pakistan this past week with 30 dead) and Catholic alike (still remember the priest in Normandy, August 2016?...I do, Woelke nicht, and the Pope also not) are being burned down, torn down, destroyed? Does he address this, or the factual Islamisation of Germany and of Western EUrope, does he mention it as something which so occupies his flock and for which he offers his sympathetic comfort in these "chaotic times"? OF COURSE NOT! You would be wrong to think so – this guy is as "Welcome-Cult" for "The-Religion-Of-Peace" as it gets, a real "kumbaya" hero.

 

Observe how this pasty, conformist traitor to his church and to the Gospel on which it was founded, perverts for the Merkel-State and the EU/NWO propaganda, his position as cleric and moral leader. One can hardly say spirit here, as there is none, he is as dry and as limp as he in fact appears – and as limp-voiced manipulative in his narrative as Walt Disney's Kaa the snake. No servant of spirit is he, but very much of the Zeitgeist – that is where he must be nailed, and will be judged.

Now: I shall address him, and those like him and those who follow after him. One is either "merely suffering from an own dark vision of wrath and just needs to take a chill pill" – or: one is already witness to some things before they manifest or "happen", because one discerns the signs and is already confirmed, as will also by events themselves be confirmed. Light will break through the darkly malignant Darkness, as it is so willingly reflected and embodied by this reptilian worm here – one sees much and can specify little: one sees many suicides in that time, a time taking place among such traitors on account of the exposure of their ongoing opportunistic treason, on account of their deliberate and conscious twisting, perverting, mis- and disinforming – misleading those entrusted to their guidance straight into the abyss. Here and now, in our lifetime we are seeing it and will see it out.

One sees many nervous breakdowns coming, irreparably committed to psychiatric care, which will find itself overwhelmed with cases. One sees courtrooms and House Committees for some. This is not a question of "God's Judgment" in its cliché. God is Infinite Compassion, He sorts this out. Their own end-karma – not in some hereafter but here-now and in our time. One will live so long and witness the day, as one is witness now, to its approaching.

This is what such have chosen and will bring about upon themselves. Let none attach themselves to these or to their words or their actions and inactions. They are judged, they are dead souls, dead meat.

Wake up now, the very ground beneath their pampered feet will shake, and will reject and rebuff even these such as you see in this creature, in his wimpy-pastoral manner and in his wispy voice – and his "message of comfort" and of sleep.

Lovingkindness

When love is drawn from its totality and applied in action there is no longer an abstractness to philosophize about.  Even kindness alone finds its limitation in one’s own self-identification and its "demand" upon oneself or upon others to necessarily "show" that toward everyone.

Lovingkindness draws its impulse and its power from love, imbuing kindness with a release from self in the fuller expression of one’s true nature.

The source of that nature is love, and ever was love.  The source drives the force of action, and guides it all, as does Krishna the chariot of Arjuna on the battlefield.

If I acknowledge myself to be a mere drop of water, then it's a matter of course that I draw something from a river current which is constant, which has no beginning or end.  And that river has its source in the sea, in the ocean by whichever name – likewise, wending its way through life’s terrains, gathering and losing and being wet, returning to that sea or that ocean by whatever name.

So neither orthodox nor heretic, nor the zealous fundamentalist nor the atheist, need impress me in the least; for, it not being "about me" I can concern myself with the source, practice lovingkindness without "being right" or "expecting" tolerance from anyone at all.  It is one of the sincerest proofs of real independence, if it is anything.

Lovingkindness is not developing a head in the clouds but a head on your shoulders, with two eyes focused straight ahead on the living being right in front of you, and a full-bodied love pouring from the heart getting you wet and everyone in proximity to you.  Wet with light.  It doesn't "belong" to you, so you don't have to sweat "owning" it or "proving anything.  Even proximity is but as limited as your own imagination.

My beloved friend Joe Miller often said, "what is needed are three things: common sense, a sense of humor, and more common sense."

This in turn cultivates a real and authentic generosity.

Spending more time with that source, rather than eating up one's valuable time and energy over "being right" or "expecting kindness" or spouting "tolerance", would profit the very depth of anyone actively appreciating the precious opportunities one's own life has presented one without going out and looking for anything to "confirm" one's self-identity.

And one would find more confidence in prayer, if one cared to discover the value in that.

Lovingkindness is not collecting clothes or money, or dragging care packages all over - one may do that of course, it's alright.  When the Beloved Embodiment in my life, of relying on the source, first communicated to me in three simple instructions:  love everyone, serve (or feed) everyone, remember God - that "serving" meant being conscious toward all and that "feeding" meant nourishing.  Food and goods are but forms of nourishment.  Christ said there is water from which to drink, by which none shall ever after know thirst.  And that by immersing in the source, streams of living water will flow from your belly.

It is also lovingkindness to take a stand, to hold the unpopular position, to not shrink from battle when faced with the gravest challenge on the field of endeavor from the very forces who are not bringing with them any manner of lovingkindness.

It behoves one to probe what taking Human form is about.

Kundalini Carol

(Boulder, December '83 – scribbled into my '75 edition of "Nectar of Chanting")

C'mon Lord, now light my fire,

Take my spirit high'r and high'r,

Up the spine and out the crown –

Quiet now! I hear the sound:

"Gloria in excelsis Deo …" (2x)

I don't wanna speak in tongues,

I just wanna hear Your voice;

I don't wanna build no church,

I just love the girls and boys!

"Gloria in excelsis Deo …" (2x)

That's it Lord, You're doin' fine,

Singin' up and down my spine;

Sing thru ev'ry part of me,

Sing thru all eternity!

"Gloria in excelsis Deo …" (2x)

"Do I know you?"

So many Berliners generally walking around with "Fresse," long faces, either distant and withdrawn or jaded and embittered. Some German some Turk or Arab, some old some young, some new-archaic Muslims some "new-left"-whatevers some klein-bürgerlisch-conservative. Encountering these, when I'm myself conscious of what I'm about, I smile as a matter of course, in my glance a warm greeting of simple fellowship as we pass each other by. There was a time when that amounted to a nice chat now and then with perfect "strangers."

Nowadays, whether the star-of-David is visible around my neck or just the cross I carry for the Iraqi Christian community, I get some of the most glowering looks in return. I mean, if I wore a "Free Palestine!" (from whom exactly, Hamas?) T-Shirt I'd be greeted more often with nods or some form of approval. But I'm satisfied with being glared at, because it is not to mindlessly provoke but to show a sovereign presence of conscious solidarity where it belongs – and that presence is in the love for my fellow Humankind with all its shortcomings, without regard for who's worshipping where (or at all). This is not the message you get from either the majority-seeking Muslims I tend to encounter nor likewise from the self-hating Germans nor others who have lost all faith in democracy. If you smile or are heard carrying a melody without MP3 earplugs shutting the world further out, and for no other reason than that it is your nature, you tend to get that look back of "do I know you?" or even "WTF?"

I'm soberly but joyfully prepared for the next time, regardless of my own circumstances, that someone asks me that:

- "Do I know you?"
- "No, but I know you. That is, the light I carry, and which carries me, knows you – and has known you all your life, even before you got here."
- ("WTF?")
- "And not only that: this same light loves you and always has, is loving you right now, and always will."

Well that is what I'm projecting anyway in my glance or in my smile, even if it never comes to spoken word. And frankly, sometimes it catches on.

WTF?!

Is not Boko Haram the real face of Islam?

Or are there Muslims intervening,

when mosques fill up five times from

mornings till noon, and on into evening?

Do they ever collect for their purses,

or exercise such faith-muscled intention

to exorcise themselves of these four
                                                    curses:

self-pity, supremacy, misogyny and
                                                   aggression?

I can joke about Jews, I can criticize Christians,

irritate Evangelists, satirize Sikhs, polemicize

Pentecostals, pun on names of every nation,

but it's "offend not the Muslims" for they're on the rise!

These peace-loving Muslims I keep hearing about –

are they there, do they care? Tolerant are they indeed, but of whom?

God knows their hearts, our politicians clearly not –

confront Boko Haram or just distance themselves, conceding room?

Sunni and Shi'ite compete in loathing and murder, in scheming

bound hands and feet since the origin of their species; no love

is lost where none there was, "There is no room for God!"

                                                    is what I hear them screaming

from minaret to minaret, region to region, age to age.

Sufism, being of no traceable age

in embodying light, quite conscious'

took on the mantle of Islam, minus the rage –

in order to clean it of its darkness.

I do not have the means, I'm afraid, to deliver, or bring

succor to all who've suffered by this "Islam" – do not

wonder that I sleep with the weight of all their killing

and barbarism, Damascus or Baghdad, in war and prior to it.

How odd, that ISIS carries the name of a goddess they'd abhor,

ask any one of these Jihadis or their wives, they don't know themselves;

puerile hatred of the modern which they use, rejecting all and wanting more –

perhaps reading right to left they see 21^st century as 12^th.

How odd, that there, among whom Compassionate and Merciful

are repeated in millions of mouths a thousand times daily, one is told;

there, among whom it is said "In Islam there is no compulsion,"

are women whipped, gays hanged, boys raped, children sold;

Christians ousted, churches mocked, no discusssion, bibles burned;

woe to you should you convert to something else, your loathesome

daring will be repaid by those who keep their women interred –

yes, go be Christian and die a martyr by the blood-soaked knife

                                                              of your own family's bosom.

Come let us be tolerant, though, let's all be politically correct now;

let churches in all Muslim lands disappear, and Christians as well;

leave them their patriarchy and let them have a Caliphate, allow

for ever more mosques to be built here, everyone else go to hell.

Let Shari'a come, and see how you like it, it's making inroads –

try on a burqa, ladies, a hijab – you'll love it, there's no compulsion,

so long as there's compliance, your life decided for you by wiser heads;

outwardly chaste, now everyone chaste: no holding hands, dears,
                                                                              that's only for men.

In light of Nigeria, Sudan and Mali, Somalia, Iraq, Iran and Syria –

I have but my craft to put down some lines, and what conclusion
                                                                            can I draw this hour:

only this, let everyone worship as they wish, formulate their faith
                                                                               without hysteria –

let Muslims have Islam in their own Muslim lands; and never
                                                                   give Islam political power!

 (Sunni vs. Shari'a: "My 'God is greater' than your God!")

http://samuelinayatchisti.blogspot.de/2013/03/show-me-islam.html
http://samuelinayatchisti.blogspot.de/2011/05/cornerstoneof-your-faith.html
http://samuelinayatchisti.blogspot.de/2013/07/that-this-beauty-shall-prevail.html

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jv-kSbjr8EY

There Is Not A Day Goes By

There is not a day goes by, nor a night, that the thought of my heart
is not immersed in Prayer and Presence, in concentrated lovingkindness
toward and embracing and enveloping and for the deliverence and healing:
of all victims of perpetrators and predators, of victims who later could
themselves become perpetrators, and of victims who remain victims.

Not a moment actually goes by without my holding close to my breast

in prayer and in yearning, those daughters in Nigeria

who are my own concern, and women and gays and Christians and children
throughout the abetted and vetted cultures of tyranny and violence, who are
either persecuted, terrorized, tortured, murdered or "executed" -
while Islam may have no monopoly on such outrages,

it certainly has a corner on that market.

Children who are mistreated and abused systematically, kidnapped,
sold for sex in a most unkind cult and culture of pädophilia, more widespread
and abetted than one cares to imagine - networked, as with satanic covens

(which one dare not mention);

these occupy indeed my politically powerless days of which there is not one

to which I don't dedicate hours to Prayer and Presence.
Where in Scripture is spoken of "not merely persons but

powers and principalities,"

we can speak today of lobbies, networks and tyrannies, systems of
overweening presence and power and designs on absolute control.

Therefore:  Prayer and Presence, the presence of real light,
and the prayer of faith - to fight for the light against the night, with
faith in the face of all daunting odds, of power which is of the world, of

indifference and of decadence, of sloth of heart.

Of all the tea-candles I burn in a week, the one constant is the
six-day oil candle which burns and is replaced, that this flame is
never extinguished, but burns 24/7, burns undeterred for those
who belong to ourselves, those whom we want to see free.

So for the hundreth time I am invited any reading this,

to join me in the following:

http://samuelinayatchisti.blogspot.de/2012/01/candle-for-farthing.html

Pregnant With Radiance

The period of mid-1973 to late '74 was particularly formative for me and informed and imbued the rest of my life from there. A student at CU-Boulder, and not much of one at that, I followed Mark Twain's lead and never let my schooling interfere with my education.

It was in this period of my life that I discovered the beloved Swami and many others, and the Bhakti path I was to take, and that I began to massage – and to sing, ceaselessly; it was in this period of my life that I would discover the Dances, and the Sufism which so decidedly established my future, from which place I'm now telling this in retrospect; it was at this juncture in time that I discovered in this way, all the Bringers of light, of Dharma, and discovered Christ, and found my own Teacher out of a marketplace full of 'em - the Coach I'd prayed God to vouchsafe me.

I'd longed to be pregnant with radiance, You may love a certain food but you have to eat lots of it to get fat on it. So it is with light. I wanted to be so full of this love I'd discovered, that I could swallow all the world's darkness and shit out light.

Neither drugs nor grass nor booze played a role in my life. I was stoned however, flat-out stoned on love. The only thing lacking was a dime and maturity – and the latter comes with time, no security. I worked at Ticos, washing dishes with joy and some soap – my pupils were sometimes actually dilated. I'd show up giggling but always on time and fit for work, my supervisor on the cook-line, a Pisces named Jeff, looked me straight into those stoned eyes and asked if I were showing up on the job drunk or on weed. I smiled and assured him, I was drunk on love, just love, patting his arm. That was the period of my wearing a wooly, multi-colored Morrocan jalabea everywhere, my hair grown long, first beard, and passing out roses in the park, washing and massaging feet – anyone's. The only beer I got soused on was Bir Hanumana (strength of Hanuman). My beloved Swami embodied that, and he was pregnant with radiance. All Great Ones are, and I revered them - and I wanted to be pregnant with that radiance.

One fine early Spring mid-morning in '75 I guess, on The Hill just off campus, I walked by Chuck's Grill, which was nearly empty. I only wanted to use Chuck's restroom, which back then was the norm without making a purchase. I just had to do a quick number-one and leave.

On my way to that restroom I noticed this young woman of very unremarkable form and features – let's be honest here, you would have walked right by her. She was neutral and apathetic, also rather dumpy, and that turned out to be because she slouched in the booth where she sat alone, the only customer in the joint.

Because of this slouch, and her pullover sweater, it crossed my Lucy-in-the-sky-with-diamonds optical-perception, that: she might be pregnant. To this day, I don't know what took hold of me - but after I'd left the restroom instead of heading straight for the door leading out, I swung by her booth and with my right hand gently on her shoulder and my left gently on the hump of her belly, on the pullover of course, I asked her with sincere elation and warmth, “When?...“

As in, "when's the date, O mother-to-be?" She did not call the cops, she did not make a scene, she did not say, "WTF – you some kinda goddam smart-ass? Get away from me you freak!" She did not react angrily or even look hurt or burst into tears at this otherwise seemingly insensitive cruelty. The fact was, she was not remotely in the family way, she was just frumpy. She had a gut on her. So?

Not a word passed between us, her eyes registered bewilderment, to which my eyes registered "Oh shit, you're not pregnant?" then, "OMGdess, I fucked up, am I a schlemiel!" I muttered a genuine "sorry, I thought..." but outside of that it went all without words. And then something happened. She got it, and her face brightened up at the idea, and my face brightened up again and for that moment gazing at each other, she had the radiance of someone pregnant with life inside her. So she was in that moment pregnant with radiance.

Then we both laughed, just a sweet, tender, ever so human laugh, shared in love between two total strangers under quite comical circumstances. I collected myself and nodded goodbye, headed for the door. One last look over my shoulder and a wave: that woman watched me from her booth, still smiling and still glowing, sitting a tad straighter there, and I have no recollection of her voice, as not a word had been shared, it was all through the eyes.

These drunken eyes, pregnant with radiance.

Forty Days After – and Fifty: Ascension/Pentecost

(Acts 1:3, 9-11; Acts 2:1-17)

After all the Prophets early and late – stands Christ before Pontius Pilate;
only with Good Friday's Crucifixion – comes that Easter Resurrection;
without the Bodily Ascension – there'd be no Pentecostal apprehension.

"Preceding Abraham I Am – and now these mine,
                    crowned with tongues of flame:
from Galilee to Jerusalem I prepared their way,
                    abiding with them to the End of Days.
Come night and all darkness upon the world, no surprises – all foretold;
I walk behind, beside, within and before them –
                   'Quo Vadis?' I ask, there to receive them.
Those who are loyal to the Light, and true –
                    whether you call yourself Christian or Jew,
I await and expect of these of my cloth,
                    my Lovingkindness waking them from sloth.
For there are mine as well ye know not of –
                    the proof of their Faith is in their Love."

Light Comes

If you pierce and penetrate and plumb the spheres of Being,

Light will come from the heavens.

If you pierce and penetrate and plumb the depths of Being,

Light will come forth from this very earth.

You can be in one spot and stay there,

rarely leaving town, go to work with empty pockets,

come home, put bread on the table,

and still do this.

Pierce and penetrate and plumb right where you are.

Tone for tone, syllable for syllable, Names of the Beloved, go:

Light will come.

In every Woman is Goddess.

I need the women, I need the men as well –

but I need to reach women.

In every woman is Goddess – even if buried

in each is this goddess – not a diva,

not a demanding dominatrix, not a calculating castrating bitch,

nor a “good girl“ nor “fantasy babe“ – none of these:

but a goddess, an indescribably real phenomenon,

dwelling in a normal form – and whom I reverently acknowledge

within mySelf –

and sometimes, on some level more often than not:

they get it.

If not, the failing lies with me.

But oh, when it does catch: Light comes.

"Getting Religion" II

Religion is like a body –
like a body it has a head,
a heart, a gut, a yoni and a lingam.
And an asshole.

Religion is like a body –
the head is for thinking-too-much;
the heart is for bringing light into the world,
circulating divine nourishment into all organs,
manifesting love as Human so this world might survive
in knowing joy through that One Breathing Truth;
the gut is for drawing the darkness out of its scary corner:
to do the work of offering it into the light;
the lingam is for positive penetration of Consciousness
into the Earth; the yoni is for warmth and depth, bringing forth life.
The asshole, in over-abundance, gives us jihad and all manner of control issues.
(Every body has one of these – only in religion there are ever so many.)

Religion is like a body –
in which head defines and calculates, feels separate from body;
whereas heart is in that body, nourishes it constantly, earthy and divine.
Head thinks thoughts, writes a theology, says heart doesn't think;
heart indeed thinks – but in dimensions of Unity head cannot grasp.
The asshole is entirely thoughtless, narcisstically striving to
dominate and to rule with unquestioned authority.

The Bringers of light – for whom religions were named, systematized
– these always were first of the heart,
feeding the body as only heart can.
They taught in heart, knowing there would be heads later.
And they knew that religion is like a body –
there would be assholes.

When Sufis give themselves over to zikr,
or Yogis to nada and laya, the Yogas of sound –
when these are practiced devotedly in homes,
in temples, in caves, or in ashrams;
when choirs move listeners and members both
to inner heights which only heart can offer:
then is religion like a body well-served.

(O pious egos! Ablutions will never remove your dirt,
a clean heart will: clear your hearts not of taste of pork –
but rather of envy and intrigue, of bigotry and loathing,
of supremacism and subterfuge, of primitive posturing.
If enemies would just finally love their enemies, then
"the enemy of my enemy" just might well be my friend.)

Then you can think with your heart, act from your heart,

heal other hearts through your heart, as God so intended.

For God is Love, and this Love brought us into manifestation.