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by Isa Dionysos
AtlantisGeorgia
on this 7th rotation of may daze in this Year of ourSELF2003 current epok Horus
~+~Prologue~+~
And returning from Santa Fe, Isa turned within
as with out, smiling. And He un-two EarthMind re-related this
Tale von The Golden Age, adapting John Wright's, saying:
Once upon
a time in a magical Land, there was a jungman, the Son of
Manorborn, who was known as Un-Ga-Way. And in those daze
there went out a degree from the Highest Councils un-two all the Land that
there was to be a creative game. When he'd mithranzed the rules and scope
of the game, Ungaway, an Enniagramic Seven by nature, leapt up laughing and
signed on straight aWay, shouting up tvords Heaven, "What fun! En
guard!" He was pleased to learn that the Relevance Ground was Now
openly being given a lesser weight by the Councils than it had been
previously. Zen, Sufi and Advaita-Vedantic masters, so-called,
smiled deeply.
Also, the Consensus Aesthetic was apparently
(but only apparently) relaxing a gaine in this New Yuga, allowing Art or Life
to take form simply for Art's or Life's sake. Since
Ungaway's Radical Fairy-tail world had almost nothing to do with what
normal humans perceived as real life or serious issues, that was a
relief for Him.
But, even so, the Councils were NOW
affording an inversely and correspondingly greater weight to
internal SELF-con-sistency, which was still His weakest area, so
perceived. "Sweet challenge", He thought, without
thinking. "Ahhhh..."
And so, after what seamed centuries, the day of
the Game finally arrived. Ungaway had played and played, having
tremendous fun creating His universe. It was somewhat Aristotelian
in places. For example, it had an atmosphere reaching up to the crystal
firmament, but a Napoleonic level of technology, such as Montgolfier
Balloons and tall ships with striking sailors, which He had included only
because He thought that they looked stately and romantic.
All
the participants in His dream would be under full amnesia, actually believing
themselves to be the characters with which He as the dream weaver had peopled
His universe. Of course, their true nature and
deep-unstructures would remain untouched. A certain amount of artificial
memory, to give them language, background and customs, would be permitted after
inspection by the Councils. They would also be allowed to hear and
believe rumours and myths of other universes and gods.
"Hurrah!" laughed Ungaway. "Herracy!" And they would
be able to re-incarnate and emigrate Kharmically.
"Wow."
And so, as the Councils' ringed rounded them and
gathered for the show, Ungaway and the other contestants stepped fore ward in
silence. Smiling. In New Harmony with the Regrouping Age of the
Fourth Era, they stood in a circle around the living pool, awaiting Aurelain's
signal. When it came, they all stepped out of their robes and slowly
stepped Gracefully down, naked, into the warm waters together.
Ungaway sank deeply into the bliss. Adjustments
in His lungs immediately drew oxygen from the Matrix medium. Microscopic
assemblers built contacts to the nerve-interfaces that He carried beneath His
skin. As He drifted effortlessly into the darkest deepest
dreamspace, He felt that familiar moment of pleasant terror as His
personality slipped away.
In the next Moment, He was no longer Ungaway,
but the King God of 
His
Universe. His Mind, assisted by the Sophotech interfaces, expanded
exponentially to encompass every element and aspect of His newly created
reality, until He could count every hair on every head of every one
of His characters. And not a single one of His invented sparrows
fell without His having already effortlessly worked the trajectory into
the world wide destiny-web of His plot. Apparent cause and
effect. Brilliant.
The Players Now came on line. It
was exilerating, and so much fun, to see His characters spring to
Life in the countless dramas that He simultaneously
spun. Pleasure rushed thru Him as He observed their
perceived free willed lives. As thunder, He laughed out loud, for of
course He knew deeply and loved the Leela or Illusion that He had
created. These characters lives would end with the end of their
dramas, and they would be re-absorbed back into His Consciousness from which
they came. He loved them well, for they were created in His image.
He had also created into the game a Seekers
Programme which allowed His characters to ponder the deepest, most sublime (and
therefore paradoxically the simplest questions) and become aware of Him;
to become Self Aware, that is to say. To live, even before
their individual body-minds died. "How cool!"
thought Ungaway to HimSelf.
There were, of course, safeguards in the
dreamware meant to prevent this from happening too often in the
beginning. Otherwise, the relativity and time functions would cease
and His game would end. "Where's the fun in
that!" He said to Himself. "Besides, I'd never win
the game if it ended itself too quickly."
In the eyes of the Councils, those players who
did wake up had an inescapable duty to let the others in on this open
secret. The show couldn't just go on fore ever, after
all. Ungaway acquiesced.
As
Ungaway's dream continued to spring to life, so did the universes of His fellow
contestants. Myriad spirit forms gathered round in the blink of an Eye to
watch the fun and beauty. The universes spun automatically like orrerys
beneath their creators' hands, like jeweled toys. And the plot-lines of
their characters were woven of infinitely coloured and ever changing threads of
pure energy. Kalideoscopic acid trips, ever changing ever new. Far
out.
During the first four seconds of the game, four
thousand dream years went by in Ungaway's universe. Most of His dramas
dealt with simple things: hot young love; temptations to fidelity, tragic
misunderstandings, discords and sweet reconciliations. Layers of
surprising reverses continued to amuse the audiences as well as the
Councils. It unfolded with occasional shipwrecks, evangelical rapes, and
kidnappings which forged new and forbidden loves. There were hints that
wars on terror were thinly-veiled plots for rich men to enslave
the gullible patriotic masses that they deceived with media,
epidemics and drugs. Handsome young soldiers were sent overseas in
scenes of heartbreak and promised valor. And of course there
was plenty of hot sex. Plenty. Wow.
A
spotlight shown from the Council onto one of the characters named Eli
Jaxon-Bear. Eli had run the Seeker Programme and had realized Self.
His thoughts mithranzed as crystal Light un-two those
gathered: "When you realize yourSelf as completely empty and
devoid of all form...this is Wisdom, ~ ~ ~ When you real eyes yourSelf as
the fullness of Love overflowing itSelf without object. . .this is Bliss, ~ ~ ~
And when you are aware of yourSelf incarnate in the appearance of form... this
is Leela."
Adyashanti,
Fariha and Pamela smiled deeply.
All was still and quiet.
And then the play continued. . .
Looking beyond the egoic pictures and chakric services, behind the two
serpented coins of the Ancients, a few then linked to
a key so long fore got, and knew at
once the nature of His plot:
~+~ACT
ONE~+~
Santa
Fe New Mexico on this 1st rotation of Junedaze in this year of
ourSELF2003 current epok Horus
Too, I thought. And I waited in
silence. But once a
gaine, sleep overcame Me, and when finally EYE awoke,
we had died. All three of us.
ALL THREE
Yea. Even so.
NAME YOURselves. NOW.
Gregory al HolloWay -- Isa -- Tyler Dionysus.
DEAD.?.
Even so.
AND THE EYE?
Opened. At last. Re-veil-ed as the un-name-able
pre-Sense that knows and is Love, now apparently
animating all three as ONE. Still, illusory as the
three, yet somehow use-able NOW and at last alive in the play.
IN THE LILA'S MAYA'S MATRIX.?.
Yea. Even so.
BERY WELL. AH, MINT. CONTINUE THEN AND POUR FREELY. RIPE, OUR
WINE, ~OUR
KNEW WINE~. THE FEW HUUU ART KONEKTED WILL DRINK DEEPLY. THE MASSES,
KNOT.
BUT ALL HAIL THE AMERIKAN NIGHT.
Too-shay. As Morrison, we are aware of this and smile deeply quiet glee.
Doors within Doors art NOW opened thru Me. Von Santa Fe call crypt de
Pair-ee.
Open Set.
Stage Left.
Somewhere in the middle of the play,
No where in the middle of the desert's night,
apparently:
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TYLER, dressed in Black robes and Aramaic head-dress,
sits alone on the Left side of a bonfire at midnight
in perfect Silence, eyes opened. From the Right,
enters ISA thru the darkness, dressed in white flowing
robes and shawls. They greet eachother by placing
their hands on the other's Heart, and then kiss and
hold eachother deeply, before sitting Cross from one
another in Silence.
Finally ISA speaks, saying: Salam-a-lake-um. Holy
Ramadan's Om Nama Shivaya en Kristos, my brother.
TYLER: Shuthefuck up and go back to your temples'
moshids' satsang circles, you spiritualpussy. We've
got work to do.
ISA (smiling): Ah yes. Avenging Dad's murder.?.
TYLER: X-act. You and all your
sufi-kabalist-gnostic-buddhist spiritual buddies just
sit round doing nothing.
ISA: But, my dear brother, everything that is the
illusion of the maya happens in the Silence; not in
your brazen offenses and affronts to morality and law.
TYLER (snarling): Says Huuu.
ISA (quietly): Our Father.
TYLER (leaning forward and pointing angrily): Listen,
you woos. Dad came to baptize these dense illusions
of consciousness humanus with gentle water. And look
what happened. And as He promised, He sends Me NOW to
baptize them with fiery air. Dis-count not this
Gnostic fruit ours; Satsang EYE ye offer,
whit-winnowing-towers.
ISA (again smiling gently): I love you, but your hot
air is re-gog-nized only by yourself, my brother, and
your so-called fiery confessions art made only to
yourself. Besides, You and I both know that no thing
is happening, after all. Re-member Dad's Truth that cannot be
spoken. And even so re-Member Jacques de Molay.
TYLER (after a long pause; smiling): Our seeds were
cast by Him in the illusion, and now His vines are
ripe. Forget NOW not, my gentle brother, His promise
that the cup that He drank shall they drink, and that
they shall be baptized with the baptism with which He
was baptized.
ISA: Your words and spirit are not of peace, Tyler.
How dare you slash and cut our family; making war with
our lineage of holy Love and Peace.
TYLER (springing up and drawing a curved sword, which
He places at ISA's throat): Do not be so naïve as to
think that EYE came to bring Peace on the earth, you
fool; EYE did not come to bring peace, but a sword.
For EYE came to set a man against his father, and a
daughter against her mother, and a daughter-in-law
against her mother-in-law; and to make man's enemies
the members of his own household.
TYLER (lowering his sword slightly, without taking His
eyes from ISA): The priests and politicians have
seated themselves in the chair of Moses; therefore all
that they tell you, do and observe. But do not do
according to their deeds; for they say things, and do
not do them. And they tie up heavy loads, and lay
them on people's shoulders; but they themselves, bound
by fear, are unwilling to move them with so much as a
finger. They do all their deeds to be noticed by men
or to sell enlightenment - so called - as they
broaden their phylacteries and lengthen the tassels
of their prayer robes. And they love the places of
honour at intensive banquets and Satsangs, and the chief seats
in their halls, and respectful greetings in their
ashrams, being called by their followers Teacher, Guru,
Rabbi, Shayka, Pir of Nur, Giver of Light and Peace.
But EYE tell you, do not be called so, for only the
ONE NEO is your Teacher, and that is no other than
your SELF. We are in deed brothers, Isa. Do not call
anyone in the Matrix your Father, for only is this ONE
your Father, your SELF. Glory therein as a new
monster, and do not be called a leader. For only NEO
is our Leader, that is the Christ, the SELF. Call now forth
the dead to annoint the earth, to wish them well, to behold
sorrow falling as burned flesh. Call them forth to pray. You know
that the greatest amongst mortals shall be their
servant, but whoever exalts himself shall be humbled,
and whoever humbles himself as the SELF shall be
exalted.
ISA (standing gently and holding his hands behind him):
And do You not exalt yourself, my brother.
TYLER: Nay. It is not Tyler that speaks thusly, but
EYE.
ISA (looking down in sorrow): And this EYE which
glares in lust and fire, it is the EYE of Horus.
TYLER: Yea. Knot of Ananada do EYE sing, but of
sweet war and of destruction. Behold a gaine Mars; re-member gods
Horus.
And how the last empire sits singing this Korus.
ISA (suddenly walking past the sword and standing nose
to nose with TYLER, saying loudly): You are mad,
Tyler! How can you speak so callously. Amongst the
spiritual and patriotic that you trash, there are also bearers of
Strong Truth in Silence and Love and Gentleness.
Re-member Gurumayi, Pamela and Fariha. Jesus Christ, man!
ISA (breathing deeply and turning gently, looking into
the darkness): How can your dark message possibly help
the apparent world? Would you wrap babes in smoldering
burlap and harsh wool? Would you appear as a lustful
glutton drunk on his own ego and mission? Who will
listen to such a crazed profit of fire? Just listen
to yourself, my brother!
(--- after a pause ---)
ISA: At times your words are couched in the wisdom of
Rumi; this We re-gog-nize, and so I implore You to
re-member the gentle longing in the music that his
reed flutes played. Come back to us, man.
TYLER (directly in ISA's face and with dark
intensity, almost whispering): What have you come out
into the wilderness to look at, Isa? A reed shaken by
the wind? What do your spiritual snobs expect to see.
A meek man dressed in soft clothing? Behold, those
who wear soft clothing are safe in their king's
palaces, surrounded by seekers, licking their mortal
wounds through meditation and spiritual practices.
EYE am the one about whom it is written, behold EYE
send a messenger before your face - in your face - who
will prepare the Way before you. And if you are ripe
to accept it, know that He himSELF is Elijah who has
come in your face. Take. Eat. Drink and swallow.
He who has ears to hear, let him hear. For remember
that our cousin John deRuiter comes neither eating nor
drinking in his sweet Satsangs of Silence, and yet the
priests and politicians and religious hypocrites say
that he has a demon! And now EYE come eating and
drinking and fucking, but even those on the higher
paths - so called - hold up their spiritual noses
saying, behold a gluttonous lustful egotistical man
and a drugged drunkard, a friend of tax-gatherers'
terrorists and whores! Yet EYE tell you truly, my
sweet and naïf Isa, EYE am but a mirror, come as a
Thief of the Knight, and Wisdom is vindicated by Her
deeds.
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Close Set. Both Isa and Tyler stand in silence
staring deeply into each others eyes as a strange and
un-known Wind begins to blow from the desert...
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