Sunday, October 23, 2011

Only Psychedelic Life


Every psychedelic experience, is not an end to itself. It is to build a macroscopic picture. Take another look; revisit another land; place yourself in absolute trust; and mother nature will walk with you holding your hand.


Every single human being; goes through life and experiences at times or sometimes or maybe all the time!? experiences which cannot be labelled, or slotted into one compartment in the brain. Though we try very hard. Look very hard, deep within since the time you can remember, the time you were born. And I assure you; that you will find something strange in your own life indeed.

But what is the point to some sort of normalcy and spurts of events and experiences which sometime make us mourn, sometimes rejoice and sometimes be just gratefully thankful?

The times are tough indeed, and that is the true test of the psychedelic experience, people who indulge on it volutanrily are terrible at heart. for they have seen the pain of life and existence itself, something hidden where everything should be gracefully seen and overflowing!

Well, we all indulge in this mass crusade, to hide the truth from ourselves. We mask it by repressing anything out of the ordinary, anything which conflicts with our thinking of who we are. In psychiatry they call it mental models. Mental models are built and sustained. But they can be changed too. And they are, continuously being changed. Sometimes we care to acknowledge their existence; most times we do not even pay attention to what is really going on.

This is the true psychedelic experience, inducing yourself to remember that every trip we take and make in our lives, is to practice. To practice the extraction of serotonin from our own brains. Our brains daily producing amounts of the soma-ras which keeps our world forgetfull and an illusion, a common illusion which we all can delude ourselves and try to be happy. But how can one be happy when one does not know his.her own source. The well which is true potential of being. The truth. Why should we mass hypotize ourselves to live lives without point and invent things to keep our attention at bay from the sea of our true existence?

The psychedelic experience, moulds mental models cleverly; without the mind even knowing it. The mind actually would know it not at all, if it were to live as if it itself did not exist. The state of no-mind creates the true psychedelic experience of living zen. Where we are who we are, graciously overflowing all the time. Without limitations of being and freedom. We are who we are.

This if practiced all through life, through any and all means possible leads us to become masters. Cause we have practiced since time immemorial; not to suppress what truly is reality. But to invent and reinvent it, to create it from our own source, as a source of truth and beauty. Without contempt of indifference.

This is the nature and path of psychedelic life. The pinch of salt is that most times we delude ourselves with the path and the goal so much, that we lose all innocence of living and loving. Free without boundaries. And that I tell you; is the real and only psychedelic experience in this entire creation (or what not) of ours.

Try and practice a ascetic life. Not that I am asking anyone to give the source of their current joy; but to multiply and amplify it, not by the greed and need for more. But by sheer acceptance of reality and who we are. Without boundaries; existing in a sea of now.


Peace and Love.

Saturday, October 22, 2011



Hey Look over here; There is this sudden change in the demenour, of the nerves and bones. There is inflow like never ever witnessed before. I crawl out from the hinges of reality; like a spider, poking my sight through the physical walls, through the sky.

I sense there is great achievement to be had; and well so does everyone if they can see it. There is change so perpetual and insistent, changing our perception and tune of things, changing whatever may be. Lying between here now and eternity.

This is grace! Baraka! my spider mouth jumps up in joy and sings, I become a lucid dreaming snake, strolling in between the jungles of my mind. The confusion and demogogory ends; and has left behind the cool gentle water stream trickling down my eyes.

Such a divine sight; to behold, when I look upon my affectionate care; my former needs vanish and am now propounded into every new being, with a throbbing passionate heart. The heart cries out oh so many times; over and over… in joy and freedom, towards the agony of not knowing or being why?

Baraka my soul! Wishing for what is given for free. Without limitations of space body or even time. She waits in grave silence, waiting patiently and grabbing those rotton apples (oh yet they taste so sweet from the inside), which cannot be eaten or spoilt anew by the changing winds of life.

Come beloved noor; come beloved moon; come ye’ all who are looking at humanity trying in vain to seek grace without a clue in sight. Come and celebrate in my arms tonight; for grace has sought me out! and I shall never leave her gaze even in a million lifetimes!

My sense overwhelms me; I become the cosmic serpent flickering my tongue and tasting the invisible presence of soft smelling ether. Omnipresent and devoid of form. The music invades me and makes me dance to its graceful loving tune.

I dance like a ecstatic sufi! A loving silent mauni of the observation without point! The center of the eye of the storm, and the violent storm raging everywhere right now!

I feel it is time, to let the cat out of the bag and let hell break like baraka.

I only wish that this mood extends upon one and all with the passage of time. For this is the time; the only one, where there is chance of meeting of souls. to stop time and forever let it be in each others eyes. Truth and grace.


Sunday, October 16, 2011

Trapped Under Steel / The Castle


The feverish trappings of mortar and brick, all spewed out from the concrete mixer onto the side of the road. The night wears on and the construction crew starts to unload. Everything has been working like clockwork, and the ‘castle’ must be build before then end of dusk. The owner is a merciless tyrant; waiting for one to collapse and fall onto the pavement. He revels in the agony of his workmen, every breadth cursed out, every dew drop of sweat and sweat makes him chuckle in some sort of victory. That his ‘castle’ has been built from pain, that its worth the lives of many, that it is the grandest detail of life in entire history of existence. How wrong would he be?

The moon beckons everyone for a smoke and rest. But the churning and noise evaporates all such desires, The concrete mixers now belch out smoke and dust, the boiler close by chuckles out soot and fumes. The entire field around the site is alive with some sort of anxiety. More and more trucks are making their way to the desolate site. Where some sort of monstrosity is being constructed from bare hands of those way too tired to live.
Aron, one such worker; now in his prime, has seen what his work and toil would yield to become, would materialize as some lunatics victory cry/ How un-important his efforts would seem in reality. In the passage of time, he would be forgotten for building this marvelous castle, no one would even acknowledge his efforts. He would be called a thief for actually help erect this architects masterpiece.
The siren went off, and people huddled together at last, running past their construction equipment to come to get a cup of steaming coffee, the glasses clanged the metal container, and in the cold mist; every one remained just their shadows. Aron saw them all, and finally joined the line albeit last to get his cup of coffee too. Somehow the usual routine did not seem to work for him today. He felt the pinching of divine doubt which could not be concealed any longer. It was bursting forth from the seams. It was completely covering his entirety.
The owner came with his symbolic whip, the register he carried forth. he brought it out and called out a few names, the lucky few who would get their daily weekly wage today. Aron was not lucky again; he twitched and moved to ask the owner once done, when his turn would come!
“Bugger off, you lowly scum and if you once again ask me then i would beat you till never’s end”
Aron had had enough of these endless gruelling days and nights. The past was the filth and the present seemed like a coffin with nails, There was no peace even once dead? Was there?
He moved like shadows amidst shadows, He kept invisible and spoke less and the next whole week he kept about his business more so than usual, none of his fellow workmen could see any change in him probably because everyone was wearier than usual. The castle was rising, abominable in its structure and impressive beyond recognition.
Something is brewing deep within; there is no way that this could be solved by anyone or could it?
Aron had for long been brewing; and brooding. His close friend, simon tried to offer him some reprieve.
“ This is what bums like you and I are meant for; the world is uninhabitable. It is not for the poor or the rational. It is only for those who have sold their soul to the devil. It is for those who have become hypocrites; even to themselves”
Aron knew what simon was dragging towards; everyone in this wretched plant mirrored their lives on the same lines, no individual left; only a mass collective hysteria. It was funny how the capitalistic system which perched on the ideals of every individual to become who they chose to be; actually created this in turn. The present state of events, where everyone worked for only one person; The Man.
Aron had come to the conclusion; after many other repeated attempts to set himself straight. There was no way out of this; other than rapid dramatic change. Change brought upon by real chaos. Real fear bringing upon change in the mentality of the owner. The castle had become the refuge for idiocy and ignorance. And Aron would not take it any fucking more.
He worked perilously and almost invisible. He collected those things which would make him a god in his own eyes. He met with his underground friends; the type of people most would not see in broad daylight. They remained in solitude talking on esoteric subjects in dingy pubs and motel rooms, Aron frequented them now more than ever, though he knew through his being what they were discussing; he himself was never party to their sophist driven debates. He knew his being, and understood perfectly.
But there was deeper melancholy in him now; he sought a solution, a permanent fix to the monstrosity called the ‘castle’.
His friends too picked up on the castle, they talked vulgar about the construction of brick which had no life and yet sucked the life of million others, like the great Egyptian pyramids or the constructions of hindu temples or even the Mayan edifices. To construct something inorganic which took the life of the many others living here and now. What could be a more heinous crime than this in the face of this world?
Aron asked them what to do, even though he knew all along what must be done.
He knew the answers were right when it poured in unison from his anonymous friends.
“The castle must be burnt! The castle must be buried! The castle must be cast back to where it came from! Back to eternal darkness!”
Aron collected invaluable items over the next couple of weeks, something which could make an explosion. Something which would be potent enough to remove what man was endeavouring to create in the first place
Some say that the architect, the mason, the builder have the power of god. They can create beauty and harmony in a world which resonates only with intent of dark chaos.
Some say that the creator is overflowing with the will of divine. Creating what cannot be seen or known until done so already!
Aron did not feel like this now. His home made device was ready; sweat and effort overpowered. Nights working at the dismal castle and days spent in the hope of something fruitful coming about. The day destroying the night. The way it should be.
Aron knew that what he was doing was right. There was something which was pushing him; his will to do this. Though no action in this world is justified or right; but some actions are more willed than others. That is what was happening now.
He piled the explosives at dawn, with the sun rising behind him. There was no one left; most workers drowned in their efforts had already left to get what little sleep they could muster up before being beckoned to the ‘castle’ yet again.
Aron looked at the giant construction; not of some god; but of some sure evil; the owner standing at the parapet of one of the floors of this endless construction. The sun dawning now behind him, and he all gloating and all knowing the suffering of everyone around. Became somehow even more powerful in this... Aron could sense this.
This was the god of old. The Ra and Indra of ages gone. The god which demanded of man, not giving freedom but draining his will and attention against his will, so that something beautiful might come out of it. For what use? For whose emancipation?
Aron lit the match; and continued to look at the evil owner. A spineless creation of the damned, the owner saw him now clearer; and he saw what aron had been up to. Yes he now understood; how the under dog had swept past him; and his impenetrable castle. How one single could cause the cancer, and free the body whole!
That day, even the sun’s glory was felt inseparable to the blast which caused the castle to fall. The castle which only moments before was standing tall. Standing proud, now was piles and piles of brick and mortar. Steel and blood. The owner came tumbling down; and verily he was trapped under steel. The same steel he once thought would become his home. The same steel which once offered him to be distanced from the common, from the downtrodden or the fallen. Now was the source of his own downfall.
The blast was dramatic, the smell of smoke and sulphur made everyone wake up from their homes with a jolt. The day has just begun. And yes it was truly a glorious one!
The castle we build sometimes are in thin air (of our own imagination), these are hopes dreams and loves which we hope to create and/or reconcile in one single lifetime.
The castles which men create; when they become old and fixed in some sort of life routine, are indeed dangerous surmountable to fatal. These castles are fixed in false notions of power. That somehow glory and immortality remains in the physical / material plane. For some it is indeed a physical castle, their home or their work. For some it is the false notion of passion and lust.
I have indeed cancelled many such castles which I had hoped to create. I have indeed raised them to the dust where they shall remain. For I rather be free from the false notions of security in this transiting life; than be doomed to spend eternity trapped under unforgiving cold steel..


Oh what beauty there is at the feet of nature, where every single cell is singing a divine song, carrying on a divine role. For every other being’s happiness.

Oh what an act every creature plays in this divine play; A dance worth dancing to. A song worth listening to. Humbled I remain; at the feet of glorious life! Always unlearning what I thought was permanent. Always changing when I thought I had seen it all.
Kerala is god’s playground, the immense downpour of perennial rains; the rich diversity of Flora and fauna. The humility of nature overflows even in the remotest corners.. even in man’s conscience and heart. The people adapted to nature worship for many ages now; everything useful is from nature and extremely eco-friendly. This most applicable to their modes/methods of worship and even the object of their devotion.
Kerala has remained for ages now; the center ground for shakti cult and worship. For people there shakti, and mother *devi* worship is a part of the grand whole of nature. There is no mother and goddess if there remains no nature. This is the simple and age old truth people of kerala have realized.
I had the great fortune of travelling to one such locality in kerala, near the famous Venice of the east *allepy*; some 40 odd kilometers from there is the quaint town of Chertala. Chertala is famous for a number of reasons, apart from it being on the banks of the grand “Vembanadu” lake which spans like a sea almost (as it is actually the backwaters stemming from the Arabian sea), the lake beautiful and pristine has also given birth to communism and the feeling of brotherliness. Chertala is the hub of also goddess worship and I had the excellent opportunity to witness this.
There are two famous temples dedicated to mother goddess here, though I was able to visit only one of them (close to the place I was staying), the temple is in the district of vazhipad; and the devi is called Varanad Amman.
Varanad amman has the form of ‘Bhadra Kali’ , she is in her extreme mood here, unlike her sister goddess located a distance away, where she is not as ferocious. When we describe mother goddess in different forms, it is mainly a mood of nature we are worshipping. A mood or a state of creation or dissolution. Here the mother is stronger than the rest, here she remains in perpetual state of dissolving everything she has created, and at the same time upholding all things till the time comes for them to merge back.
Oh She is divine, par divine! I have never witnessed anything such. The eyes of mine; overflowing with tears expressing love and gratitude at everything she has every done for me. She knows what a spoilt brat I am, always challenging existence and energy. I have never taken anything from her but her grace. Oh she knows my inner being; Oh she saw me that day when I first set my humbled life in front of her, oh she knew it that day when my unworthy gaze set upon itself the divine miracle that were her beautiful awe inspiring feet!
I flew into Ecstasy at arriving upon the little sanctum sanctorum of the vayanad mothers home. Most temples in kerala are not really creations of kings or men who have glimpsed some little power in their life. These temples are generally sources of power where medicine men and tantrics have ‘seen’ power emanating unusually ‘more’ than the rest of the surroundings. So sometimes the temples are extensions from what used to be homes of the priest who lived close to these sources of power, sometimes they are in pristine natural habitat inside jungles, where there might be outpouring of spirit and such.
The vazyipad temple is almost on the banks of the huge lake, now a big temple; i can easily imagine how it might have been in the past; perhaps a humble shack which withheld such insane beautiful energy, there are thousands of ravens close by. The mother kali’s vehicles. They seemed to me as some sort of spirits, who have been close to her for a long time now. There were some 100 odd families of ravens where I was staying. They all used to start screaming their lungs as soon as night fall came about. Which was so strange to say the least, cause birds go to sleep by twilight, and these were completely different. All perched on tall coconut trees, and they immediately felt ‘my’ energy; for the very first night i spent in my accommodation over there was the loudest and strangest. They were up all night calling and screaming at some invisible force for all i could fathom (this was when I did not know that there was this temple close by); perhaps they were urging me to come and see the beauty that was Amman; located so near.
The next day I ventured and saw the beauty divine manifested in gold and metal. The goddess’ face emanates some sort of ethereal energy. She is maha-kali here; she is extremely ferocious and completely un-tamable. And yet; she exudes such motherly love; I cannot fathom even to describe it in words and human understanding. She holds a cup with divine knowledge in one hand, and in the other a divine all seeing cleaver. Which is used to cut one’s head from material attachments. What energy! What power! and I was on the floor in divine rhapsody; howling from within, at what I was at her feet. A miracle of existence and nothing else. A cell glowing from within; the fire emanating her grace~
I went there everyday from that day onwards for the period of a week which I was there( I was there due to some work; otherwise I might have permanently settled over there). The temple exudes power and simple serenity. Oh how can I describe this to the city folk; who believe clubs and busy shopping areas are centers of power and serenity!
Divine mother was magnanimous enough to arrange for my own mother to come and see the temple and meet me as well during the week, my mother had some work in trichur due to which she had to fly down during this time and we were fortunate enough to witness the power and love of Amman together, we both met only for a period for perhaps half and hour; which we spent in contemplation and content inside the temple premises. It was truly peaceful with eternal mother watching over eternal mother.
One of the evenings I went to the temple; and I was taking my usual self around the sanctum for a stroll; and as I completed my first round around; I saw on the stupa which is outside the temple- facing the mother; sat a very beautiful cute small white owl.
The owl was truly gorgeous. It was from another world. Yes it was! It had its eyes open wide; and was staring at me the whole time, and I felt blessed yet again! It was so beautiful to see the idol of mother goddess in front of the stupa inside the temple; and the owl sitting right near me outside, with its eyes wide open staring deep into the seat of my soul!
It really did feel exactly like that, I do not know how long I stood there (it was quite a while) and yet the owl was not threatened nor did it move away, its eyes ever present on me. It was somehow sizing me up; my person and my qualities. Perhaps it was seeing what all had to be removed or remodelled so that I could better serve my mother.
I loved the moments I spent with my magik mother; my magik totem; the animal more powerful than any other. The sacred magical white owl of varanad amman!
It is truly a special place to visit; south of the country especially kerala; where constant- increasing amounts of shakti worship is instigated from ages past unknown. For anyone who has ever felt the love of their mother to be somewhat therapeutic, or perhaps freeing. It is a sure shot bet that visiting any of the shakti-piths in god’s favourite country would enhance such feelings umpteen times more!
Wishing you peace and love unconditionally forever; across space time and dimensions.

Saturday, October 8, 2011

Hyper-Conscious Base

The base; acts like the eternal film. It is keeping us intertwined in a base sense of the word. When the base is acted upon; with other substances. It becomes truly mouldable.

The base is calling out through audio-frequencies. Its a sign of hyper consciousness. Some sort of other dimensional purpose. The base is all there is, and it is the base for all things worth their salt.

The creatures all never penetrate till their base. The base which makes them what or who they are. The nature of existence personified through ignorant energy/will. Dormant and perpetually in inertia. It can never create what it is intended to.

The entire scenery changes, and there are now manifold etheric beings, all surrounding and making their view as one. All focusing on the internal base of mine. They all come together and move into my being. Changing the film in subtle ways. The base is now remodelled somehow, and it is now awaiting for the energy pouring through;

The base acts as the inhibitor and the propagator of glorious things of this world. There is no such experience as the refinement of the base of our being. The base could be your speech or your action; it could be your only fear or your only talent. It could be the way you look at everything; or how everything reflects itself back onto you. Any how the base is what the entire planes of universe is made on. Its hyperconscious and active; it is actively looking out for energy to make the blanket of energy more delicious somehow. So the consciousness which beholds the base could benefit in spiritual evolution and away from material devolution.

I have tasted today as many other days; my base being strengthened by effort and magnanimity of the cosmic will. It is calling forth; refining my being into grandeur; oh so deserving~


Satanic Pool

Confounded and lost, the pool it seems has become stagnant. With the obvious. Thought and pattern. Action and repetition of daily movements.

Its a drear; to carry the body around. It listens less with time, and demands more with it as well. There is no end to this the grace full surmise.

The pool is growing thick and dense. There is no clarity penetrating through. Is it not the mental state of you as well as I? Where there is momentary happiness only to be once again forgotten by apathy and lost cause.

The angry and insane, they wear the eyes on the back of their heads. Watching what does not exist, living a lie…

There is such glorious existence, all abound. Without boundaries… there existing no limits or boundaries. No labels or confines. No pool which captures the soul and leaves grime as its ally.

The strength pours through, and life must be made once again what it is meant to be. To be without the habitual routine of life and relationships. Of contact and isolation which exists on the periphery of the divine.


Perhaps words do not make an impact, and actions too erratic cause too much suspicion at hand, but those with their feet out of this satanic existence, vouch never to return to it again.

For what is truly once found, can never be returned. When grace touches the heart; all ignorance is at bay….

Every sunrise an eternity; and every glance at the beloved existence. A  rare and unique opportunity. Waking every day anew; facing yourself back in the mirror and not recognizing what it was meant to be in the first place ever. This is true content. This is the way out of the quicksand of our material links and ends.

I am your god, and I command your entirety. Surrender once to me, and never to look back again. At what was your soul; bared on the cross; for the world to see, but now once set free.. to fly as we were all meant to….. Such is the intensity of the cries which awaken within us all.. calling us back to our origins. The holy and raw.

Come and lets drown our sorrows. Replace the stagnant pool; satanic and depressing with the ever new vigour for life. Where there is no death and no suffering, no sad goodbyes, and no sweet endings..


Friday, October 7, 2011



Oh so many paths are there; to reach thee.. The servant seeking the master. The lover seeking the beloved. There is such fervor and there is such pain. To what use is there; in misery being cast and misery in reign?

Yes, the paths all have one goal in mind. To reach higher ground, to reach where everyone remains as themselves, without a single false garb of duality known.

The paths are like the ways in which animals tread; some steady and strong like the walk of the ant. Though uncertain in its many moments, moving hither and thither and trying slowly and pain-stakingly to reach higher esoteric ground. Some call this the sure shot path, for this is the way each ant (each one of us) can take through our lives, to inculcate the sense of duty and morality and humility through our actions and thoughts and speech. This is true karma yoga, where there is every act; purified and negated through its performance.

There is also the intense path of the monkey, which jumps from one tree stem to another, sometimes going forward and high, sometimes falling down and taking care. This is the bhava and rasa of the lover in intense separation from the divine love all around. He becomes mad with passion and grace, looking for what the world’s illusion can never give him in the first place. He jumps over himself just like a monkey, and moves towards his divinity; the glorious sun (of the soul).  Some call this the higher path, the place where heart takes over thought and action and being all together, but to some it remains just a mockery, for the lover always in some secret heed to gain pleasure from this soul-full pain of being separated from the true one (of creation and life).

Then there is the path of the glorious eagle. The path taken by the most daring, the most needing. For the intensity cannot be held just in the heart. The need to liberate, the need to remove I is like a sure shot suicidal tendency in man. It makes him change himself, so that he may have what he needs most. The grace and feet of the entire glorious existence beckoning him ever and more. This is the path of the aghori. The path least taken and for reasons galore. For if you falter, even once, even half a chance taken and you shall fall to your madness and never come back to the grace of what you call out.. One moment your eyes taken away from the pointless goal and you hit the mountain or the tree of your doom and decimated beyond any recognition. Oh but what a supreme achievement to live out like a free avadhuta. The aghori, always basking in the love and grace of eternal raw creative power. He flies like no one I have ever seen. He remains one with the entire creation. His body exuding the eternal freedom of the eagle. He flies higher and higher in realms which we cannot fathom of.

Some call him the beggar and the madman, some abhor his presence and his existence. But what a true gift he gives to mankind, those who can only see the outside, see only a naked dirty filthy resemblance to a man, but to those who can see truly with the gift of third sight, they can see the naked innocence of life itself unravelled through the body and the matter in front of them, here and now in this visible universe.

I am not to say that every aghori, is like an eagle, treading paths to power. But there are those, in seclusion and disillusionment, looking after us all, through their efforts can ignorant fools like us lead peaceful and dull lives right to the time of our non-glorious deaths. These people, phantoms, power sources existing away from vile creatures like us, continously purifying our efforts to wreck all that is true. That is .



The sorcerers visualize the world, in such subtle dreams. It bends and becomes everyone’s reality.


Here and now, the shaman is a special warrior. He is the band leader of a bunch of fools; fools for they are all risking their fragile and nimble lives to enter something which might not exist. They are true masters of humble existence.

The nag’ual takes the band into altered states. he guides them and leaves them at the mercy of his allies. The allies, all worth being reckoned with, prove their metal and teach lessons invaluable to the band of hunters and warriors alike. They sweat and toil and many might go insane with the extreme will and effort which the process requires of them.

The will is forged in fire. The fire which is burning from within us all, and everywhere abound. The fire which is consuming us day in and out and making us forge cages with our thoughts. Thoughts which then become barriers for the very same fire to rage on. Soon for most of us, the fire slows down. and dies.

The nag’ual is crazy, he understands that this is not how he was forged. His thoughts do not trouble him anymore. They do not lead him astray to any other plane. He is intent and content, both at the same time. The will is directed and free… such an intense and life changing state to be in.

The nag’ual has but one choice. Well then it is really not a choice at all.. The only way to live, before dying is at the mouth of the eagle. The eagle, fiery and formidable is the entire existence; unlabelled (though for convenience visualized as a holy bird), and powerful is consuming all life through its mouth, consuming sheer energy and then through its incredible wings, again spewing forth this to form endless realms; dimensions and consciousness alive. The eagle is not consciousness, it is extremely dangerous is all what the nag’ual knows. For now he has realized his life’s calling… to be as close to this eagle.. This state of being where even one trigger might lead him to go insane and die. To never be the same again… and yet approach this state and remain so close to it, that it will alter him every single moment. Or just the moment which counts. The only moment which is present; here and now.

The nag’ual is weary and extremely hysterical. He is both joyful and solemn. Such a fine state for a human being to be in. Such potential now shown with utter abandon. There must be something special in him for sure. The band questions him not and follows him with faith. The same faith which the eagle consumes like corn…. The same energy which they all possess is what the eagle consumes as its most delicious food… the refined conscious energy of the universe which the eagle has created in the first place. There is careful paths to be tread..

The nag’ual pushes each one of his friends into the fiery pit of the eagle’s endless raging mouth. Some are too attracted at the endless energy and wisdom and power and knowledge; that they look not here and there even once, before jumping in…attracted to a powerful magnet pulling like a black hole- all energy of IS.

Some do as the courageous nag’ual had asked them to… They stay just at the periphery, almost as if there is resonance of some sort which keeps them at bay, they remain at the eagle’s mouth for eons together, never fading or dying away.. their eternal youth kept alive through the endless energies pouring through them from all corners of this visible universe and beyond. Only when they wish to, will to, and choose to; shall they jump into the great unknown. Never to be the same again. Never to know this and that as they once did… to repeat the eagle’s play once again..

Till then they remain perched; ironically on the birds mouth, with the giant nag’ual who has been there ever since never. He remains at the gates, testing and seeing beyond the mouth and waiting sincerely and with greater faith… for others who shall see as he does to.

To remain as the nag’ual. one must have disdain for the world and its fabric. He must understand, and perhaps give up understanding; about notions which have never been relevant. And perceptions which have never been useful.

Peace and Power to all the holy lovers and shaman’s of creation. Who love through their heart and heal through their hands. Who provide through their eyes and give through their being.


A Shaman is:

1) The Eagle of Heaven
2) One who flies as the Eagle into the Celestial Domains
3) One who is capable of spiritual flight

Thursday, October 6, 2011

{Less I say}


There is endless space in between endless space.

There is endless space all around and yet not anywhere abound.

There is existence wrapped up like a chocolate under a veil of lie.

Lies which co-exists with reality like bubbles floating in an endless sea

There is radiance on that divine face; which refuses to fade.

There is life on that fragile body now an empty carcass; rotting visibly decayed?

There should be another way out of this rat race; this endless maze.

There must be some way out of here. Some sort of remedy; A sure shot cure.

Life o’ mine; like a plan devised but strayed to the side.

Life o’ mine could indeed shine if it was worthwhile;

If it were sublime, If it somehow could kill the enemy of mine; surely time.

There is energy on the tip of the tongue; spewing sharper faster towards endless intertwined worms.

There is breadth in the air I inhale. Let it out inside my lover, and there is invisible warm embrace.

There is such deep melancholy in us; I surmise; There is limited time and endless lies.

Life o’ mine; is like a child’s toy, treated with care once and thrown into rubbish the next.

Life o’ mine; could be fair and just, if not for the corrupt; the vain; confused worth worthless dust.

Life o’mine is never complete. The more there is, The less I say.


Gate keeper


Ganesha is the most favourable Indian god, he is now a truly global phenomenon, For he is the bringer of good fortune and giver of all boons. He is pleased easily and blesses those who come for his grace.


Ganesha is a gate keeper… He is the person who stands guard for his mother. The Kundalini energy present in every conscious living organism. 

The myth of creation of ganesha goes such, that he was created by the dirt on the body of devi parvati (goddess energy), to stand guard while she was taking a bath, and he obeyed his orders to the fullest; not letting his father, master of universe Shiva inside too… this lead to shiva being wild as hell and beheading him, his head later replaced by that of an elephant.

The elephants head is not a coincidence in this esoteric tale.. The elephant is generally timid and wise, it remembers everything and records all memories perfectly till it dies. It is easily satiated and once mad, tramples its enemies to pulp on the ground. All are also the characteristics of the personality of the god Ganesha.

Ganesha has been made by the body of sheer energy for a direct purpose, he must be placacted first, and then he opens the gates to access the mother divine energy… of goddess Chandi/Kali/Parvati/Sati/Kula Kundalini.

Ganesha lies at the base of the spine and before any work to start; his blessings are sought, then the work so done becomes auspicious with the intent of divine will and energy..

The annual indian festivals are also devised extremely cleverly and with pure reason, with the advent of the autumn season comes the favoured and cherished ganesh chaturthi; where ganesha idols are kept in each home (made from mud) and worshipped for a period of 11 days and them immersed into water. And almost half a month later comes the most powerful time of the winter season.. the 9 days of dusshera and devi worship where there is power worship… the right ways to gain power is by worshipping the gate keeper and then following it up with 9 days of chakra worship…

Without the blessing of the gate keeper, it is impossible for us to witness and become part of the universal energy; present within us and all without. Its a beautiful way in which indian festivals have been devised, so that every human being can actually access the gate keeper, get his blessing and move onto discover his/her energy to the fullest.

Indians were not as stupid as they looked, and thankfully so for the entire human race.

Peace and Joy on this lovely Vijaya !! Dushami 2011

Sunday, October 2, 2011

One Last Conundrum


I am about being in zen state. Well to tell the truth, there is no particular state which can be called ‘Zen’, and to further clarify; I do not know or care to know what the originators of the word ‘Zen’ wanted to label as that.
Zen is all states and none. It could be defined or rather ‘labeled’ as the experience of flux energy which gives constancy. We can understand this now as ‘Dyanmic Equilibrium’ or something close to that effect. Zen is both contradictory and dichotomous.
Zen is a meditative state; which is devoid of dimensions like space, time and consciousness.
Zen does not require anyone to be; for itself to exist.
Paths to be zen do not exist; and when they do- they are called as ‘Tao’
We do not become zen. We are always zen, to experience the state well or better; we could do some simple motor-routine activities, which increase certain brain activity while at the same time causing other parts of the brain to become subdued.
I try to practice zen as much as possible. Well you see the problems with words, as zen is and all... there is nothing as practicing it. It just is, but as I am trying to explain a state with fallacies such as words, so you could possibly bear with me as well..
Since childhood; I have a fascination to keep my room and house clean... most people find it to be a chore, cleaning the floor or dusting or ironing or washing clothes or even cleaning dishes, but all these activities to me have a very unique meditative state.
Apart from the fact that I love live amidst clean surroundings, all these activities keep my mind occupied and at the same time the sheer repetition of them gets the mind into a ‘Zen’ state.
The zen state is hyper-attentive, and is also unattached. Its absolutely impossible to explain the state in words. But many Sufi's might describe it as sheer love, in which there is no distinction left. The natural opposites, the polarities disappear and only the macro cosmic picture is left behind.
I have great fascination even with my busy schedule to do my own chores as much as possible... I press my own clothes, try to dust and clean my rooms and what not.. It is a slow and tedious activity; most people would abhor it. Even I do at times, but its really wonderful for the change it brings.
Zen is practiced everyday and every hour, there is no specific postures or actions one can perform to gain and be zen, for in lighter spirit zen always exists. Zen can be only experienced... it can not be known or understood; for zen is; always is.
So still you can experience what zen is. Even though we are without paying attention actually practicing it... we can consciously be zen, by doing simple mundane things as well... should be worth it for all the house wives across the globe who curse that their lives do not have any deep meaning or satisfaction

Ode to Humanity

I am not a big fan of human kind, the version of life that in today’s day seems to be only focused upon itself. The day’s pass and humans ...