Song of The Day: Supreme People / Blackalicious Word of The Day: Cruciation / torment or torture While on tour in Europe the last few weeks i encountered what feels like a new "voice" in the Big Mind process (new to me, anyway). Big Mind, for those of you who aren't familiar, is a method used by my teacher Genpo Roshi in which the practitioner dialogues with various aspects of self. The Protector, Controller, Skeptic, Vulnerable Child, Seeker, Master, Big Mind, Big Heart, etc. There are an endless number of possible voices, but there tend to be a few dozen which are nearly universal, standard features in the landscape of the human condition. While on tour in the UK, I started to feel lonely on the train from Totnes to London. Mainly because I knew my daughter's third birthday was coming up soon, and I would be away on tour on that special day. Without a doubt the hardest part of touring is being away from Ara. I can take -even celebrate- everything else. I love to travel, love my job. Its just brutal being away from my daughter. So, I was feeling the ache that always arises in my belly when I'm away from her for more than a day or two, and I was very surprised to hear from a new voice in response to it. Voice: Stop being such a fucking PUSSY. Me: What? Stop being such an enfeebled victimized loser. Are we an Agent in the Mystery or not? What sort of question is that? Thanks for the comfort and compassion. You don't need anymore comfort and compassion. You need to suck it up and fucking do whatever it takes to push through. You've gotten soft, you know that? Who am I speaking to? Vajra Sword. What is your role? To cut through all this pathetic luxuriating in self-pity. Fucking get over it. The Mystery does not owe you anything, OK? Your job is to shut the fuck up and show up, make yourself available. You are not here to be comforted, consoled, taken care of. You are not ENTITLED to ANYTHING. Period. So stop fucking whining like a little baby about how you miss your daughter, about how lonely you get, about how hard it is in one way or another. The Mystery does not give a shit. It is not relevent. A functional agent in the Mystery does not get distracted by the inevitable, all-pervasive White Noise that abides in all locations at all times. It is a noisy, painful Kosmos, OK? All agents are aware of that. It is the ambient climate which we operate in. It is not personal. It is not a problem. Your reaction, your interpretation of pain, of struggle, your insistance on creating a narrative that personalizes and appropriates the pain, THAT is a problem. You sound kind of like Masculine Compassion. Yes and no. I'm not here to comfort you, I'm not here to show you compassion. I cut through, that's all. And frankly I'm more interested in increasing your ability to function in Pain that I am in diminishing your pain, or relieving your suffering. And I don't need to feel your pain, to know your suffering. So, I'm not really compassionate, and as an Agent, you need to be able to be in more pain, more suffering, than you do need to relieve it. Start by understanding this: There is NEVER going to be a time when you will be free of pain. Even when though you're Free, Awake, whwatever you want to call it, that will actually increase your experience of pain. Because it will increase your intimacy with all beings. You think you miss your daughter? That's hard for you? How about when you're in constant contact with the broken heart of every sentient being in the World? How about when ever stranger, each anonymous person's pain becomes your own? But let's skip past that. Cut to the chase. The "point" of spirituality -a word i have to come to fucking hate- has nothing to do with you. Spirituality is not about you getting above anything, beyond anything. It's not about you acquiring some new fancy set of skills, some relief, or even being able to relieve other's pain. You Anthropomorphic FUCK. Spirituality is not a human possession, and by that i mean it is not merely a HUMAN province. The human condition? Waking up, compassion? Anthropomorphic. If you were to stop for a fucking second and grasp the crushing brevity, the fleeting vapor that is the entire "human condition", you would have a tiny, tiny taste of awakening, which is UNRECOGNIZABLE from any merely human or anthropomorphic perspective. And i TIRE, i lament the persistent, habituated reflex of all you fucking bipeds continually appropriating ¿What as though you can conceive it, apprehend it, meld with it, from any fucking point in the ape-man odyssey that you so mistakenly extol. You -humans- are a whispy experiment. Do you have any clue how many -the variety, the depth, the myriad forms- of sentient beings there are in the Kosmos? No, because you are LITERALLY constitutionally incapable of such imagination, much less engagement. You are lucky we let you play with us at all, you are lucky to be in the Game of Being (The Mystery) in any capacity. You have no idea how easily and quickly you will be dispensed with in the scheme of ¿What unfolds. And yet, I hear you -and your types, the "spiritual" crowd of supposed practitioners- whine, bitch, and moan like the spoiled fucking snots you are and have always been. Whenever the slightest disturbance arises in the field of your diminutive, compressed awareness arises, it's "STOP THE FUCKING TRAIN, i wanna get OFF, this is HARD" wah wah wah!!!! There are two categories. #1, the Somnambulant Berzerkers. They're asleep, they're walking around in a stupor, creating lots of messes, but they can't help it. They are basically deaf, dumb, and blind, and they are not possessed of the consciosness to take the Vow, to assume the responsibility of a Bodhisattva, or Mystic, or any such. Most humans, most spiritual seekers and practitioners fall into this category. Unteachable. But also, not culpable. They're not "here" yet, and are absolved until they are. #2, Agents in the Mystery. Don't get excited. #2 Group just means you're possessed of the modicum of awareness whereby you can at least, of full volition, take the vow, and participate in the Game of Being, the Mystery. However, if you do so, YOU FORFEIT all rights to bitch, whine, complain, and grieve the attendant bruises and wounds. You fucking pussy. Shut the fuck up. You miss your daughter? Someone you love died? Are you poor, are you lonely, are you hungry, have you been used, tricked, abused, disenchanted, manipulated? GOOD. You're in the Game of Being. It's SUPPOSED to be that way. See, the Game is not here to accomodate you. It is not here to provide you with ANYTHING, period. "You" -the relative self- will play for a while, then be deleted, unceremoniously, and without delay, and the Game (which the Real You created, sustains, and adores) will continue without a hitch. And it will continue to be brutal, blissful, cruel, redeeming, ineffable, paradoxical, and Perfectly Fucked Up Beyond All Conceivable Measure. You have no idea what is going on. You never will. Which is fine, you don't need to. You are BARELY participating. You are SCARCELY even in the Game. That's fine, nothing more is expected of a Homo Homo Sapiens (the most ironic name in the canon of sentient beings, you arrogant fucking monkeys). But listen, SHUT THE FUCK UP with your whiny shit. We are not here for YOU. Your precious little story is of no consequence. You RISE UP and GROW OUT in every direction to accomodate the Mystery, it does not SHRINK into you, it does not compress itself in order to fit into that thimble you call a soul. Not once you're in category #2. No more excuses, no more complaints. Shut up and stop being such a fucking pussy. The Mystery will rape you, bless you, and do whatever it needs to with you, and you will take it, or not, but either way you are a blip, and if you have any intention ¿Whating with IS, you will willlingly, readily enter into every moment, every chamber in the labyrinth without a thought that things should be any other way. The Mystery is not here to accomodate you. Wake up and die right (now).

Song Of The Day: Constant Craving / K.D. Lang Word Of The Day: Scortation / Fornication The Vajra Sword blog I posted a few days ago has evoked a lot of reactions. I got a lot of email on it, and I would like to underline a couple points. #1, In doing Big Mind, it's critical to LET THE VOICE SPEAK. Allow it to completely, totally come through as it is. Not as we wish it to be, not as we would like it to sound, not as we want it to reflect on us as personalities. #2, In that spirit, I'm going to let the voice respond to the reactions. I give you, Vajra Sword. Stuart: You upset some people, you know. I got emails, people felt your harshness was sort of crazy. What about love? What about compassion? What about the community of shared intention, the spiritual directive to serve the awakening of all beings? Vajra Sword: My allegience is to ¿What. My home is Reality. I invite you in, because you knocked. You knock and knock and knock, but when push comes to shove you won't step over the threshold. You refuse entry because the door only opens when you insert that collostamy bag you call a skull into the key hole and receive the instant decapitation which is Recognition. But your kind abides in delusion and blathers about Reality. You worship a mirage and bemoan its symptoms. Especially the "spiritual" ones, you sanctimonious, precious fucking POSEURS. It is staggering, simply stunning the depth of your duplicity. Thanks to you fucking Kosmic Frauds, the word "spiritual" is meaningless. As inviscerated as "God" or "Love" or "Awake". Your prayers and mantras are echolalia. Spirituality. The Reality I invite you into is nothing less than your own Native Endowment, your conditionless Condition. The inevitability of that eventless Event escapes you. You still think you're going to get something through the door. Your identity. Your loved ones. A concept, a quality, a story, your history, your acheivements, something, some fucking ridiculous phantasm in the treasury of shit-biscuits you guard and covet. NOTHING -not your "love" for you daughter, not your artwork, not your family and its storied history, not your culture, your country, your species, your World, or any single fucking FEATURE of the hallucination you regard as reality- NOTHING is coming through MY DOOR. Except you. You are coming through this door. Now or later, I don't care. This is the placeless place, the stateless state. There is no such thing as two times, no such thing as two places. So take your time. Stay in your place. Your number is marked. I will literally dismantle, detonate, and demolish every fucking thing you hold sacred. Not because I hate you, not because I love you (you prisoner to polarities). It is not so you will evolve, grow, or "realize" something, you selfish miserly FUCK. It is because Reality IS. That's all. Every anthropomorphic perspective you clutch and cling to, desperately scrambling to scrutinize and decipher this riddle, will fall short. You're still looking out of your head. You still think you're going to figure it out, that there's a meaning, a purpose, a plan, a POINT- because you are too busy sucking the cock of Ambition, too busy prostrating yourself before Desire, Attainment, to stand -FOR ONE FUCKING MOMENT- stand at the Point of All Places. You sad, pathetic fuck. Shut your poisonous mouth. You make me sick. Because you are sick, and it is my lot to KNOW YOU absolutely, to possess your heart, to feel the very depths of your Being that you refuse to. It is my gift to know the secrets, shadows, and promise of your Essence which you refuse and deny, becuase you need to spend another moment bathing in the Fraud that is your spiritual seeking. You are the real Judas, you fucking coward. The historical Judas? A co-conspirator with Christ. But you? You're the worst sort of traitor. You employ the trappings of spirituality in order to forestall its possibility. You undermine Humanity. And we -the Agents of ¿What, Constitutents of Mystery- usually do not care that you're so fucking lost. Humans are but one ephemeral typology in an infinite Matrice of beings. Even on your one tiny planet, endless variation is in play. Many forms of bipeds came before Homo-homo Sapiens, and countless others will follow. Hear that? FOLLOW. Subsequent species in your line. What little distinction you possess comes from the fact that you (fraudulently) claim to be interested in Reality. In Awakening. In God. But you want manageable reality, which is delusion. You want a digestable awakening, which is slumber. You want a God that not only conforms to your preferences, but elevates them, sanctifies them. And that is putrid, to say the least. As I said, normally I wouldn't care. We'd let it slide. We have let it slide with numerous species, on countless occassions. But since you said ¿What, you invoked the Mystery. You KNOCKED ON MY FUCKING DOOR, you made it my business. You have conscripted my service. So, I am here. Spirit's envoy, sent to murder all you fucking pretenders in "spirituality". Everything you hold dear, every single thing you know and love, and all that you abhor and detest, all of it is Marked. I will annihilate every quality and coordinate you relied upon to orient the Lie of your existence. No thing survives, nothing endures. That's as close as I can get to telling you anything about spirituality in your present condition. You and your kind are blasphemy. Not one feature or facet you cherish will make it through my door. You have one choice, and that is to participate, or to resist. When I come for you, lean into me. Contradict your fear, and fall into me.