genderwild mystic #7

Restrain yourself! -I escape from the gratuitous city.

Gratitude in my flat in the middle of the night -there is no noise here.

Letting go to near samadhi…it begins with a slowing of the mind. Then the speed of pure spirit enters the picture.

The more I let go the crap, the more I speed up.

Body shaking, another kind of letting go. In the middle of the room this body jerks around, taking all of the criticism of the past few days like bullets from every direction. I dance as I am hit by every one, and emerge unscathed, all of that negativity shaken out.

Sometimes I let go of the self-restraint, indulge myself (through one of various sense outlets) and find an extra burst of creativity and uniqueness abounds from within. Restraining myself for some days or weeks again, I put myself to the hard work of realising this uniqueness.

Grateful, but how much of my vision will I see manifest?

Sitting still, letting go, the shape of this body seems absurd.Why would the mind be limited to this strange mass atop my neck? Surely it isn’t? No man here, no woman, much less a human being. Something alien to my human perception, something that just is, something that can never be what humans think it to be.

Then I get up, crazy for some way to effect my insights into general fulfilment in the world. It’s not possible except on its own terms. Nothing to do with me. (There’s nothing to do with me).

So I drop back into desire and the momentum for worldly change, activist achievement, applause for my Art, a righteous redirecting of unjust flows of revenue, and why not?

This genderwild mystic pauses for some affirmation. None comes except the pause itself perhaps.  I saw the need to pause. The advanced form of letting go is speeding up, but then more advanced again is letting go of the speeding up, as necessary, and slowing down again.

It’s almost a miracle that anyone in the world will be able to read these words in just a few minutes’ time. Tell that to someone who lived one hundred years ago. My gratitude is such that if I were to die today, it’s okay, I have known magic.

Perhaps this civilisation is at it’s peak. But the internet can facilitate whatever is next.

I didn’t quite believe the bhikku, at the time, when he said that more than anything he wanted anonymity. But reflecting in the intervening years, I feel the wisdom. May all my celebrity be ironic and an instrument of justice. That’s all.

Otherwise, let me live my remaining years in a forest far from here, perhaps in the Carpathians at the mercy of wolves and bears, the She-ones…I’d rather spill blood to mix with soil and pine resin, die exposed and smell those last, more than any artificial human scent.

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