acclaim /əˈklām/

People ask me if I have been published yet. Writers tell me to get my ass in gear. I understand their curiosity and concern. But having something published is not the prime goal and never has been. It is certainly potentially useful in the right circumstance but it is still only one component of a wide enterprise: to effectively champion harmony through evolution… through art.

The right thing must be published at the right time. And whatever currencies arise from that must then be leveraged wisely.

For the most part I think to myself, I don't want anything published unless it's so right, that the world needs to hear it. And I wonder are those standards out of reach of my ability. It seems like I'm always overreaching. Whatever I accomplish on the page, I envision something more.

accident /ˈaksədənt/

How did I come to enjoy what privileges I have; to inherit such a seemingly rare space?

It is hardly flattering to peruse the more obvious strains of causality which led here through curiosity, courage, integrity, insight, revelation; from child to writer to seeker. How humbling to find that failure is the theme. Failure at marriage, career and Christianity; at social climbing and reputation-building. All the towers I could not build beyond the first couple floors. And as they crumbled, how visible the path became.

Is that the only way it is done? It is one theme I think but I have never assumed it’s the only way.

ac·ci·dence /ˈaksidəns/

Leaving aside that we are among the most spoiled and perhaps luckiest (at least on the surface) of the communities of Earthlings, I am grateful to be a native speaker and writer of English. What a royal pain it must be to try to learn it post-childhood. So deranged, arbitrary and variable in its structure. So much wiggle room.

What better playground for the writer and poet? Every English word is a toy for the imagination. No matter what I want to say, there will be a dozen ways to say it; each a different flavor.   

My regression

I suspect that I am moving toward improved insight into what is going on with me (and what is not going on with me).

I have interpreted the changes in my life as a personal evolution (of consciousness, generally) and I have regarded my less enlightened behaviours – at times occasional, at times more frequent – as a slipping backwards; as a regression of that evolution, and I have never worried about that in any way. I have never prioritized the journey. I’ve never said, “Oh I must keep evolving. I must be a saint by this date and an angel by this date…!” I have made no assumptions about any ideal path. I have been inclined to think that this “regression” has kept me more relatable to certain people and not so estranged from them; in effect having more capacity to communicate effectively, which is important as I have felt a burden and duty to offer myself as much as possible as a guide to the less initiated, in the absence of any more qualified guide within reach. Through the period of rapid evolution I was sensing new hurdles to communication because I was forgetting what it was like to suffer certain perceptions. I could remember the ends of paths but not their beginnings. I felt I was leaving some people too far behind; out of reach.

Having read A New Earth and connecting superbly (indescribably so) to Eckhart Tolle’s explanations of what so-far appears to be the same mental journey and landscape (much work to be done analyzing that), I find myself looking at myself more through what I perceive as his perspective which feels very useful. In doing so I must consider that evolution and regression may not be the most useful terms here. Tolle seems to say that it is more of a toggle switch to be “awake” or “asleep” at any given moment, which does feel right to me, and I must wonder, is it more useful to say that I am generally just falling out of the habit somewhat, of being awake; mindful; conscious; present or whatever (I’ve yet to hear a term for it that feels definitive).

There is no doubt a pattern that I am awake most of the time that I am alone (which is often, per my priorities) and awake much of the time in others’ company but probably not a great majority of that time. I often catch my own lack of presence in the middle of the act and I am sort of laughing at myself before the last offending words are out of my mouth and I have tended to see this as me granting my imprisoned ego little recreational holidays; time off for good behaviour. This was perhaps conceited of me as I must ponder: No, this is the ego being fully in charge at these moments. Yes, I think that is more the case. It’s creepy to think of the ego playing possum in this way but it makes sense.

What may have slanted my views on regression until now is that the rewards of peace, joy and freedom do not entirely depart through periods of more instinctive (asleep) modes but I wonder do they only linger as academic comforts in those moments, rather than fully genuine. It invites the more crucial question. How do I ever know when my state is genuine and full and not just academic? Tolle (and the Healer) propose a simple test for that which I can not so far consolidate.

I am pondering at this moment that maybe a more mindful habit is on the rise again as my concerns about being reachable or relatable; the capacity to communicate, are perhaps dissipating. The Healer, who has graciously listened to much of my personal story without doubt or prejudice, suggests that teaching is more a matter of practice and experience than staying relatable. She suggests, in essence, that I may have “evolved” spiritually but not as a teacher.

The fact is, I am currently much in doubt about both my abilities and my qualifications as a teacher. They may both be deeply lacking and if so, that is okay. She also suggests that I may not be nearly so alone in my circumstance as I have felt. She is subtly suggesting that I might find myself at home in the woo-woo community, a term she applies ironically to herself and her peers; the practitioners of reiki, tai chi, qigong, meditation etc.

In other words, the burden of guiding may not be falling on my shoulders so much after all. I don’t know if she might be right. I’m not sure how accurate her idea is of all that I have been through and perceive, but there is work to do to clarify these matters and new experiences to be had! The Healer knows Tolle’s work but I must read and re-read his works and take stock of how much he explains myself and my journey as well as how much he does not. This will shed more light on all of these questions.

Perhaps continued evolution is my inner purpose while guiding is a potential with regards to my outer purpose, remaining to be seen.

accessory /əkˈses(ə)rē/

I buy the packages: the styrofoam, pad and innocuous lump. I buy them again and again and so more must go on the shelf and so more flesh must be extracted and how easy it is to forget about all the killing and more importantly, what goes on before the killing. Shouldn’t I know what process I have prompted?

What suffering is shielded from me? What injury have I abetted? I feel it is my duty to see with my own eyes and let the blood on my hands.

access /ˈakˌses/

Peace. Freedom. Joy. They form a tremendous inner strength. They have transformed my life. Often I wonder, should I let them be more outwardly apparent, rather than to so often surrender so willingly to the forces which beg for normal behavior; appeasement of the tribe.

Peace. It is the confidence: knowing the poetic body contains the answers to all apparent problems; so often the revelation that they are not problems at all. It is the purpose which drives me, at least when I am mindful of it. A consolidated purpose, consistent with every criteria I have imagined. It is knowing where I belong and the simplicity of my needs.

Freedom. It is the dissolving of so much societal illness and mental discord which depends on illusion to exist. The absence or near-absences of loneliness, embarrassment, hatred, stress, longing, jealousy, offence, impatience, anxiety, trauma, covetousness and more.

It is the shedding of labels and all their inane baggage!

It is the ease of integrity and the absence of those ghosts born of posturing, positioning and deceit. It is the absence of false needs or specters of false happiness. It is escape from illusion. It is the renewal; the starting again, unanchored by possessions and uncluttered of the wayward false perceptions of normal indoctrination.

And joy. It is constant awareness of the unfathomable unlikelihood of this magnificent Earth; a true paradise, and of life itself and of the human being, with its stunning potential for the new evolution which I have seen! The potential to turn a universe of immense darkness and power into a thing of immense beauty. It is the appreciation of miracles.   

Peace. Freedom. Joy. They are the natural consequences of humanity underneath all the illusions of society, tribe and ego. Such an unexpected treasure to unearth and now, years later, almost taken for granted as they wax and wane but remain strong.

#94: A heart which learns to kill

Four years ago, almost to the day, I popped a CD in the car while driving solo up to the Muskokas to rejoin a cottage vacation. The album had that day been given to me by Neo and I had no idea what to expect.

I was immediately unnerved by the vocals. It was Bob Dylan’s voice but with a sort of chainsaw harshness to it, and the music sounded Dylannish too. “What is with this awful Dylan wannabe!” I cried.

But before the disc was done I knew I’d have to hear it again and upon its completion I let it loop and immediately listened again. It then lived in the car stereo for a couple weeks. And to this day, The Wild Hunt remains in my top 10 albums of all time. 

#94

LOVE IS ALL

By Kristian Matsson (The Tallest Man on Earth)

2010, Sweden

The Tallest Man On Earth is actually only about five foot nine but his music is immense and timeless. I hear he’s rather tired of being compared to Dylan but when you’ve got the same voice, a similar style, and confess that you studied him as a role model, obviously it’s going to happen. Personally I love Dylan and this guy too and quickly learned that comparisons are not useful.

The entire Wild Hunt album is enchanting in a kind of natural organic way (Matsson was known to home-records his music with guitar and vocals on the same track). The music is delicate but powerful; comforting yet haunting. And his voice – well – I quickly got used to it. The material largely smacks of the afterlife, the eternal and the inner mind. I find much poetic comfort in it.

Two singles emerged from the album but Love is All is not one of them. Here’s the official video followed by links to other Wild Hunt tracks which come very close to making this list.

Thousand Ways

King of Spain

Burden of Tomorrow

A Lion's Heart

The Wild Hunt

accept /əkˈsept/

Is it wise to be angry at the big bang?

The nature of causality is not hard to see. We witness thousands of consistent examples every day. We know of nothing that exists outside the flow of causality, which makes apparent the inevitability of all things. And yet the logic which assures us the inevitability behind all apparent choices is hard for so many to grasp. And even though I fully grasp it, it still slips from me from time to time, leaving me to blame, complain or criticize; such a savory recreation. Such a vain comfort to the ego.

Forgiveness is not simply noble or Christ-like. It is only sanity to forgive: to admit that the universe is what it is and does what it does. This of course does not mean to forget, necessarily, nor to suppress consequences of another’s action. It does not mean we should not strive to do better and to help each other at that.

Fail

I pulled up in front of Happy Acres Manor, killed the engine and picked up Dawn, Phil Elvrum’s subtle inspirational diary of his days in the relative isolation of a Nordic cabin hiatus. One of Grandpa Munster’s co-residents left the shelter of the Porch of Ash and Smoke, and wandered through the rain toward the passenger door. No, I don’t have a cigarette to spare, or money. Nor can I give you a ride somewhere today.

I just stared at the book, not absorbing the words while the faceless interloper eased into the periphery.

He knocked on the window. I hit the window button and turned to face him. It was a man I had not encountered there before. He had a plump face and wore the strangest mittens I’ve ever seen. “Are you waiting for someone?” he asked.

“Oh… I’m just waiting for Grandpa Munster. But he’s probably eating lunch and then he’ll be out. It’s okay, I’m in no hurry.”

“Okay!” he said pleasantly and turned and ambled away. I saw he wore no socks on his feet. He was wearing them on his hands. He lumbered back to the manor and up the steps and out of the rain and into the house. I suspected (correctly, I later verified) that he was off to give Gramps the message that his friend was waiting outside. I wept.

Spare a dime, brother!

The Earnest Chef is in town today. Haven’t seen him in a couple months. He’s joined myself, Chessmaster and The Ponderer for one our weekly breakfast write-ins at The Joker’s Café. Following, he’ll attend my weekly hike with The Healer and little Doctor Dizzy at a lovely cave-dotted conservation area.

Officially I am in financial crisis with my employer pretty much ignoring my existence, however I spare not an ounce of stress over it. I seem to know inherently that stress is useless. Also I know inherently that I am not going to starve on the streets no matter what happens.

Also, I am simply in a happy place. Just as with Siddhartha or Aurobindo’s treatment on the Bhagavad Gita, I am now reading a book which has me in joyful tears. I am once again connecting superbly in terms of matters that are core to my understandings of people, the world and the universe and which I can almost never communicate to any real degree with the living people around me, a phenomenon that leaves me feeling like an interplanetary alien most of the time.

The magnificent factor this time around though, is that this author is alive. Alive! The effect of this is beautiful. I am suddenly not so alone. I now know for certain that there is at least one person on this planet here and now who would fully understand me; who could have a discussion with me where I could utterly be myself and be understood and vice-versa. Where I need not monitor myself and hide insights which would alienate my company or cause them to think I am a liar or delusional.

That said, I am fully myself, I believe, with Neo and Neo believes he understands me but I am not convinced. He does not demonstrate that he understands me. I’m inclined to think he understands more of me than perhaps any other, or perhaps believes he understands who I think I am but without believing I am necessarily without delusion – which would not offend me. Scepticism is generally very wise in a world that is invariably 99% bullshit.

Back to this book, which was recommended to me years ago by The Journeyer and recently by The Healer and which has languished on my bookshelf untouched for years!:

Every paragraph it seems, contains yet more and more affirmation of my long roster of understandings. He describes the process (which I have thought of as the poetic process) which reflects my experiences precisely, though he calls it simply spirituality, or the new spirituality, a habit of consciousness; presence; awareness.

Being perfectly patient when properly engaged in my work; my poetic pursuits, I am content to simply finish the book and then do some research on the author, a German I believe, and only then, if this marvelous symmetry still holds up, figure out how I can meet him, or else with some organization he perhaps champions (if such exists) and finally have humans I can communicate with for real - again, not to diminish the trust or belief I have in Neo. I am just not sure, currently, exactly where we stand in this regard.

My hope, in doing this, is not just to dispel the specter of alienhood, but to get help in refining my goals in life. I long ago lost interest in all normal pursuits and being so regularly joyful, peaceful and free of a great bulk of societal illness, have desired only to be useful to others; specifically to champion harmony and the evolution of consciousness which I believe I have taken part in and which I interpret confidently that this race of humans must embrace, and soon, if we are to survive as a species.

I might be begging on the street soon but life has never been better!

accent /ˈakˌsent/

I remember travelling in Ohio when a waitress commented on our accents. My associate had a good laugh and said, “What are you talking about! We’re from Canada. We don’t have accents!” I immediately laughed at this silliness while realizing that he was sincere. How could he honestly think that any one locale could claim ownership of language in such a way? I couldn’t believe that someone could reach adulthood maintaining such a naïve perception. It is of course, impossible for any speaker in the world to be devoid of accent.

Today, when the ubiquitous layers and layers of tribal delusion have become transparent to me, I realize that my former associate’s flawed perception is probably not that rare, and given the constraints of instinct, understandable really.

accelerando /äkˌseləˈrändō/

The music of the great majority of cultures in the history of the world, during most eras, does – or did not – adhere to rules of timing. The modern church of the western world first introduced musical measure in their quest for control of all things.

Funny, that as I write this here in an open-air James Street café I am hearing Van Morrison’s tune Wild Night and I can’t help but feel that this song contains a caged wildness in its structure; that this song might be a masterpiece if freed from the bondage of its beat!

Neo’s earlier music did not fall under the hammer of the metronome; one of several elements I figured might alienate his music from masses of obedient commercial pop music devotees. But I have always felt that he is on a noble path and as such has the potential to attract followers. He has a very special song-writing talent and creative courage and he may well become the object of sizable acclaim and fandom at any time. But for now I suspect it healthy that he may be excused from dreams of super-stardom and the inherent distractions and compromises thereof.