Hinduism

Hinduism
By Joseph Campbell

I imagine that when one thinks of Indian philosophy the first thought is of yoga. The great classical text of yoga is that of the sage Patanjali: the Yoga Sutras, "Thread or Guiding Thread to Yoga." At the opening of this amazing work, we find the following definition-and I want to start with this, because it is a very important point:

"Yoga is the intentional stopping of the spontaneous activity of the mind stuff." Now it was the idea in ancient Oriental psychology that within the gross matter of the brain, within the grey matter, there is a very subtle substance, which is in continuous activity, taking the shapes of whatever we behold. This subtle matter is in a state of continuous activity, like the rippling of waves on a stirred pool. And when you shut your eyes, the mind stuff continues to operate that way. If you should try to make it stop, you would find the process very difficult. Just try this some time. Take into your mind an image-somebody that you care for, some image that you would care to contemplate-and try to hold this image still in your mind. You will find that you are immediately thinking of other images , associated with the first; for the mind continues spontaneously to move. Yoga is the intentional stopping of this spontaneous activity of the mind stuff. It is an intentional bringing to rest of this continuous action. But why should one wish to do this?

A favorite simile used in Indian discussions of this subject is that of the surface of a pond with its waves in action-a wind blowing over the pond and the waves moving. if you look at the surface of a pond moving in this way you will see the many reflections-many broken forms; nothing will be perfect, nothing complete; you will have only broken images before you. Butif the wind dies down and the waters become perfectly still and clear, suddenly the whole perspective shifts and you are not seeing a lot of broken images, reflecting things round about. You are looking down through the clear water to the lovely sandy bottom, and perhaps you will see fish in the water.

The whole perspective changes and you behold, not a multitude of broken images, but a single, still, unmoving image. This is the idea of yoga. The notion is that what we see when we look around, like this, are the broken images of a perfect form. And what is that form? It is the form of a divine reality, which appears to us only in broken images when our mind stuff is in action. Or, to state the case another way: we are all, as we sit here and stand here, the broken images, the broken reflections, of a single divine perfection; but all that we ever see when we look around with our mind stuff in its usual state of spontaneous activity, is the broken rainbow-reflection of this perfect image of divine light. Let us now open our eyes, let the waters stir again, let the waves come into action-and we shall know that all these flashing sights before us are reflections, broken images, of that one divine radiance, which we have experienced.

And it will now be delightful to see them moving in this way; for we are no longer at a loss to know what they are. we shall have seen the source; we shall know that the source is within all of these broken reflections-including ourselves; and there will come a wonderful experience of a harmonious system: all things inflecting in various ways this one perfection. This is the realization that underlies the whole thought and sociology and action of traditional India. Now since we are all broken reflections of that image, that image is present within us. However, it is impossible to describe it in terms of its broken reflections. How would you possibly describe its form to someone who had not seen the complete image itself? It cannot be described in terms of its fragments.

The first principle of Indian thought, therefore, is that the ultimate reality is beyond description. It is something that can be experienced only by bringing the mind to a stop; and once experienced, it cannot be described to anyone in terms of the forms of this world. The truth, the ultimate truth, that is to say, is transcendent. it goes past, transcends, all speech all images, anything that can possibly be said. But, as we have just seen, it is not only transcendent, it is also immanent, within all things, Everything in the world, therefore, is to be regarded as its manifestation. There is an important difference her between the Indian and the Western ideas.

In the Biblical tradition, God creates man, but man cannot say that he is divine in the same sense that the Creator is, whereas in Hinduism all things are incarnations of that power. There has been no "Fall." Man is not cut off from the divine. He requires only to bring the spontaneous activity of his mind stuff to a state of stillness and he will experience that divine principle within him which is the very essence of his existence. And this essence within is identical in all of us. We are, as it were, sparks from a single fire; and we are all fire. There is therefore an eternal revelation of the truth all around us, all the time, and we require only the proper focus of the eyes to experience this.

Now let me give you a couple of basic terms: The divine principle within each of us is called åtman. Åtman simply means "the self." And this "true self" is the same in all. However, each conceives of himself as being a special independent person, and this concept of oneself as an independent entity is called "ego," aham; also, aham-kara, "making the noise `I' ." "Making the noise `I' " is what we do when we set ourselves against each other. The name given to åtman when it is experienced, not only within, but also in the world, is brahman; and brahman simply means "divine power."

Brahman, the divinity immanent in the world, and åtman, the divinity immanent inyourself, are the same divinity; and so the great experience in Indian thought-indeed, the fundamental illuminating principle throughout theOrient-is this realization that all of these beings that seem so various are one. Now this realization that though we are many we are also one, is a magical realization. And what is the magic that transforms the one into the many? it is called måyå. Måyå means the force that builds forth form. And this måyåh as three effects. The first one is to cut off our vision of the perfect unity of the immanent world power. This is called the "obscuring effect" of måyå. The second is, to project all of these broken reflection that we see around us; and this is called the "projecting effect" of måyå. But måyå holds the possibility of a third effect also; for by contemplating all of these forms with the feeling that they are one, and by going around with the thought in your mind that you are in essence one with all these beings, you may come to realize that this is true.

Måyå thus can reveal, through the manifold, the one; and this is called the "revealing effect" of måyå.I have said that it is impossible to talk about brahman-åtman. The goal of Indian religion, the goal of Indian philosophy, is to point people's minds toward the realization of this truth and then to let them suddenly have the experience in their own minds.

The images of Indian mythology and religion that we see on the beautiful Indian temples are called, in our language," gods." But they are not gods in the same way that the god of the Old Testament is a god. The god of the Old Testament is conceived to be the ultimate truth. There is said to be nothing beyond this god. But the Indian gods are only pointing toward truth; because it is impossible, according to the Indian view, to speak about truth or to picture truth, to personify truth. The personifications, the images, the forms, are only clues, merely guides. And now, to give you a notion of how some of these deities are pictured:
There are three very important deities in Indian worship, and they are Vishnu, Shiva, and Kålæ. Vishnu is pictured as the divine dreamer of the world dream. Vishnu sleeps on a great serpent, whose name is Ananta, which means "Endless." The serpent floats on the universal ocean, called the Milky Ocean. But this Milky Ocean and the Serpent and the sleeping God: these are all the same thing. They are three inflections of the same thing,, and that thing can be thought of also as the subtle substance that the wind of the mind stirs into action when the universe of all these shifting forms is brought into being. Vishnu, the God, sleeps, and the activity of his mind stuff creates dreams, and we are all his dream: the world is Vishnu's dream. And just as, in your dreams, all the images that you behold and all the people who appear are really manifestations of your own dreaming power, so are we all manifestations of Vishnu's dreaming power. We are no more independent entities than the dream figures in our own dreams.

Hence, we are all one in Vishnu: manifestations, inflections, of this dreaming power of Vishnu; broken images of himself rippling on the spontaneously active surface of his subtle mind stuff. Moreover, this sleeping god's divine dream of the universe is pictured in Indian art as a great lotus plant growing from his navel. The idea is that the dream unfolds like a glorious flower, and that this flower is the energy-or, as the Indians say. the shakti or goddess-of the god. I hope that some of you are recalling the counterparts of some of these images in the Biblical tradition. The waters that are stirred into action when creation takes place are comparable to those of the first verse of the Bible, where it is said that the wind or breath of god blew, or brooded, over the waters.

This metaphor represents the miracle of creation, bringing the world into being as a multiplicity out of the stillness of an unstirred sleep. And the bride of the divine being, coming forth in the Indian myth from the navel of a dreaming god, is drawn in the Biblical myth from the rib of a dreaming man. What was originally one has become two. And how delightful it is to see such an image-reflection of an aspect of one's own being-which was not present to consciousness before, and yet was there, nevertheless! So it is with Vishnu's dream. The god becomes aware of his own power and is delighted by the charms of his own power, as represented in the presence derived from him: the presence of his own dream, which is the universe. Thus, the universe is the dream-bride, or dream-goddess, of God.

Another image that appears frequently in Indian art is that of the god Shiva dancing. Shiva has four arms in this manifestation, and he is dancing on a prostrate dwarf. His first right hand holds a drum; and this drum beats; and that beat is the beat of time, which sends a ripple of movement over the face of eternity. The tick of time, then, is the creating principle, and this first right hand , therefore, is the hand of creation. It is bringing forth the world-dance just by beating the drum. But on the other side of the god, one of his two left hands holds a flame: the flame of illumination ,which destroys the illusion of the world. This, then, is the hand of destruction. But destruction so conceived is rather paradoxical; because what w all want, surely, is to know the truth, even though full knowledge may come only with the dissolution-or stilling-of the activity of the world. And so, whereas we have a deluding creation in the one hand, we have an illuminating destruction in this other, and between the two, flows the enigma of the universe.

The second right hand of the god Shiva is held palm outward in a posture known as abhåya, which means, "don't be afraid." Nothing terrible is happening. Forms are breaking, your own form is breaking, death comes; yet nothing is happening. The eternal principle, which never was born, never will die: it is in all things: it is in you now. You are a wave on the surface of the ocean. When the wave is gone, is the water gone? Has anything happened? Nothing has happened. It is a play, a game, a dance. The second left hand of the god Shiva is held out before him in what is called the elephant posture. It is a posture suggesting the forehead and trunk of an elephant, and this is the teaching hand. For the elephant is likened to the teacher: where the elephant has walked, all animals can follow. It is a huge animal and where it has gone ahead, breaking down the forest, the other beasts can easily follow. This elephant or teaching hand points to the left foot, which is lifted; and that lift signifies release. Meanwhile, however, the right foot is driving down into the back of the dwarf, whose name is "Ignorance." This foot is driving souls into ignorance-that is to say, into the world, into creation, into this life that we are leading. But the other foot is lifted, yielding release. And so here is the god Shiva's image: one foot driving souls into life and the other releasing them, in a cycle of birth-into-ignorance and return-to-truth: Birth and illumination, One hand controls creation, another destruction, while a third is saying, "Don't be afraid; nothing is happening!" and a fourth, "Look at the cycle down there, and realize that your ego (aham) is but a wave rippling on the ocean of eternity, while your true self (åtman), what you really are, is the water, which endures."

A third figure commonly seen in Indian religious art is the goddess Kålæ. For if you wish to personify divinity (according to Indian thought), it is no less proper to picture a mother than to picture a father. Why, indeed, should one attribute sex to a divine being who is transcendent; that is tosay, beyond all attributes? If beyond description, why attribute sex? So it is optional: you may decide for yourself whether you prefer to think of the divine principle as a mother or a s a father, as a dreamer , or as a dancer. Any image will do, so long as it will help you to collect the main principles of this realization and hold them in your mind. God as the mother is pictured in a very strange way. She gives birth to beings but then eats them; and so, she is a terrifying, frightening mother, represented with a great tongue hanging out to lick up the blood of her slaughtered victims. She is a horrendous thing. And this may give you a notion of the realistic seriousness of Indian imagery. Life is not all goodness, it is also frightful. So that, if we are going to assign to the creator only the qualities of benevolence, how shall we account for these other aspects of existence? Indian thought does not trouble itself as greatly as Western with the problem of evil; because there is no evil, really.

Forms come into being, forms go out of being. Of course they do; for time passes! And how do the forms go out? Some comfortably, some uncomfortably; but they all go. It is this passage and fluency of time that is the great thing: and if you realize that it is all divine, whether going or coming, there is then nothing to fear. The goddess, therefore, is depicted as a frightful consumer of all beings a s well as the mother of beings. She is the sow that eats her farrow, consuming her own children. Her upper right hand is in the posture of abhåya, " do not fear! "; the lower is outstretched in a boon-bestowing posture; the upper left hand holds a swordand the lower left a head, which the goddess has just cut off. She is the deliverer of both life and death. Horrendous yet fascinating, she is the very image of the dual nature of life. These deities, these supreme beings, are held before the mind as objects of contemplation because they suggest the mysteries of this created world. It hurts the dwarf to be tread upon; and the dancer himself hurts his feet, dancing. But anyone with the power of creativity, the power to live, is not afraid of life's hurt. Therefore, if our consciousness is saying aham all the time, saying, "I, I, I am hurt, I and my friends are hurt, I and the principles I care for are being hurt, we're not getting on, the world's going to pot!".....if we begin thinking that way, we are out of touch with the creative principle and dynamics of the world, and we are already, from the standpoint of Indian thought, dead things.

The notion of the universe, then (for I want to move on, now, from the god, down to the universe itself); the notion of the universe in Indian thought is that it is a great organism, manifesting this divine dance, or this divine dream, in a harmonious, magnificent display. And every one of us is apart of that organism. Every one of us has a role to play in it. In their sacred books the Indians commonly represent this cosmic organism as a Great Man, with each class of humanity compared to a part. Now, in the old agrarian societies-societies of the sort fundamental to Oriental culture-there were primarily four classes of human beings: four social strata. The most important of these in India was the brahmin or priestly class, whose function it was to know the divine revelation, to know the truth and how to teach the truth, how to instruct the community and its governors in the way of truth.

The Brahmins are compared to the head of thereat Being; and the second class-that of the rulers, or Kshatriya-to the arms and chest. It is the function of the ruling class to administer the truth that the Brahmins teach, maintaining the society in the way of the cosmic order. And then we come to the merchant and land-owning class, who represent the middle of the Great Man: his trunk and viscera. These, the Vashiya, constitute, so to say, the backbone and guts of the social order.

They are the community that we call the Middle Class. And finally, the members of the fourth class, the Shudra, the workers and craftsmen, are compared to the feet of the composite being. The notion is that everybody has a fixed and proper function, just as the different organs of the body have, and that by performing his functions, each keeps the divine society in harmonious health. Suppose the moon were to say one morning, "I'd like to be the sun." Or suppose the sun one day were to think, "I'd like to get up a little later this morning," The whole universe would go out of gear. The Indian idea of the social order is that all of us are just as tightly fixed to our ways and laws of life as the sun and moon. Furthermore, when one reads the old law books-the Book of Manu, for example -one sees how, in ancient India, the life rules became more and more demanding as one proceeded up the social scale. The rules for the Brahmin are minute to a degree that can hardly be imagined; but the restrictions become less and less demanding as one goes down the scale to the Shudra level. For the notion is that there is a particular morality, or virtue, appropriate to each class, in accordance with its functions in the organism of the Great Man. For example, the morality proper to the worker, The Shudra, was simply to do as told. By doing as he was told he lost his sense of ego, and so was introduced to the great religious principle and experience of egolessness. He learned this on the simplest, crudest level.

And then, it was thought, after this experience of egolessness had been assimilated on the obvious level of physical service, he would have gained a spiritual character rendering him eligible to be promoted, in his next life, to the merchant or land-owning, Vaishya class. For here the duties were more severe; but, also, the honors considerably greater, so that there was a greater temptation to egoism. It is harder to be egoless, harder to learn
how to be selfless, on this level of wealth and comfort than on the lower levels of obedient toil. And since, for India, the goal of life is to learn selflessness, it is important that people should be graded properly according to their capacity. But the ruling, aristocratic, or warrior class, of course, has more temptations than even the merchant to become egocentric. The members of this class have the power to do as they will, and so here the disciplines were extremely severe . And then, finally, for the Brahmin, who was worshipped as a god, the temptation to ego was prodigious, and the rules of life were almost incredibly constraining, Now everything that is described here implies the idea of reincarnation, and this idea is fundamental to all Indian thought. It is believed that through our experiences of life, we are gradually clarified in our vision, so that we become less and less the victims of ego and its systems of hope and fear. We learn more and more how to become egoless.

In our Occidental, democratic society, we do not believe that people are born into precisely the social class for which their souls are ready. We believe in a loose social structure, with equal opportunities for all. The Indian view, on the other hand, has always been that people are born into the class for which they are ready, and so the system is designed to hold them there. It is important for us to realize, however, that the Indian system of caste is not associated primarily with wealth. People even of the very lowest caste may become wealthy; and a Brahmin priest in a little rural temple will almost certainly be very poor indeed. It is only on the level of the third, the Vaishya caste, that life is devoted primarily to the ideology of wealth. Hence the caste organization itself is not to be understood as an organization based on money, It is based on what is regarded in India as a spiritual principle: the idea that one must learn the lesson of life first on its lowest levels, and then return in later incarnations for more and more difficult lessons, until achieving, complete release from this school of rebirth.

Let me tell you a story, to indicate something about the nature of this Indian idea of the spiritual value of the performance of duty. It is taken from a very interesting Buddhist text, The Milindapanha, which dates back to perhaps the second century A.D., and it tells of the great Buddhist emperor Ashoka, who lived in the third century B.C., in the city of Pataliputra (which is now called Patna). The river Ganges flows past this city, and the river, according to this tale, was rising at that time with such force that it was threatening the city with a flood. The Emperor was greatly troubled, and everybody in the town was greatly troubled, and so all-the Emperor included-assembled on the bank of the river to watch the waters rise. Now there is an Indian notion that if you have fulfilled your life duty to perfection, you may perform what is known as an Act of Truth. you can say (and this is magic now): "If I have performed my duty without any trace of ego, but, like the sun rising and the sun setting, have done just what I should have done, every hour of my life, then let such and such happen!" And such and such will happen. This is called an Act of Truth. For, since you are part of the organism of the universe, and perfectly so, you partake of the power of the universe. You have become a conduit of universal energy and can perform miracles.

And so now, this story tells us, when all the city had gathered along the bank of the river Ganges, the emperor Ashoka, perceiving the danger, asked: " Can no one make as Act of Truth and cause the waters of the Ganges to flow back upstream?" Apparently the Emperor himself could not do so; nor could any of the members of his court: they stood around and looked embarrassed. The Brahmins hung their heads, the nobles hung their heads,, and the merchants hung their heads. But way down the way there was an old prostitute, and her name was Bindumatæ, and she belonged to what was regarded as the abyss of the social structure. She was the lowest of the low. And yet she said to those around her, "I have an Act of Truth." The old woman shut her eyes and presently the Emperor noticed that the waters of the vast river were slowing down, backing up: there was a roar, and the waters of the Ganges began to flow upstream. You may imagine the action of the people. "Who," asked the Emperor, "performed this Act of Truth?" But no one around him knew. He looked about, and no one within range of his eye gave any sign of either being or of knowing the person whose virtue had saved the city. In a little while, however, the rumor reached him, and the Emperor proceeded to Bindumatæ in amazement. "You!" he exclaimed. "Wicked old sinner! Disgrace of the community! Do you mean to say that you have an Act of Truth?" "Your Majesty," she answered, "I posses an Act of Truth by means of which, if I so desired, I turn the world of men and the worlds of the gods upside down."

The Emperor requested to be told this act of Truth, and the old prostitute replied: "Whosoever gives me money, your Majesty, whether he be a Brahmin, Kshatriya, Vaishya, or Shudra, I treat him as any other. I make no distinction in his favor if he is Kshatriya; and if a Shudra, I do not despise him. free both from fawning and from contempt, I serve the owner of the money. And this your Majesty, is the Act of Truth by which I caused the mighty Ganges to flow back upstream." The obvious part of this remarkable tale is that any way of life whatsoever is a way to God, if followed faithfully, selflessly, in perfect humility. This woman had power as no one else in the community, because she had performed to perfection the duties of her coarse and humble role. But the second lesson of the story is that she did not rise in the social scale for having saved the city: she remained Bindumatæ, serving the owner of the money. Which indicates an important thing about Oriental thought-namely, its distinction between moral and spiritual judgment and its ultimate dedication to the latter. This is something a little difficult for us to understand, since practically all of our own religious emphasis is moral. The religious interest of the Orient, on the other hand, though moral in large measure, is finally metaphysical; and its main idea is this: that by some act, some
experience, some realization, some knowledge, we should achieve an effective relationship to our essential being, which is identical with the being that creates, supports, and annihilates the world.

When one reads the Bhagavad Gætå, which is the most important single text of Hinduism, one comes across a very strange statement. The God there declares that he is the essence of all things: of the lion, he is the power and the fury; of thieves, the thievery; and of cheats and the cheating. "I am the victory of those who conquer," he declares, "and of those who die, the death." In other words, since divinity is the essence of every being, we must not let our moral judgments obscure from us the fact that God is shining through all things, even those of which we cannot approve; yet this should not disturb us in the performance of our own duties, according to the terms of our own system of ethics. There is a very nice paradoxical principle involved here, which, though it may be difficult for us to appreciate, is fundamental to the Indian point of view. Moreover, there are many means, or ways, by which we may learn to shift our perspective from that of the multiplicity of this world to that of the unity of all things; and all these ways are called yogas. A number of apparently contradictory teachings have therefore been developed in the great domain of Hinduism.

Yoga, in the broadest sense of the word, is any technique serving to link consciousness to the ultimate truth. One type of yoga I have already mentioned: that of stopping the spontaneous activity of the mind stuff. This type of mental discipline is called Råja Yoga, the Kingly, or Great Yoga. But there is another called Bhakti Yoga, Devotional Yoga; and this is the yoga generally recommended for those who have duties in the world , tasks to perform, and who cannot, therefore, turn away to the practice of that other, very much sterner mode of psychological training. This much simpler, much more popular, yoga of worship consists in being selflessly devoted to the divine principle made manifest in some beloved form. One may dedicate oneself, for example, to the service of some god or goddess-one of those that I have just described-or any other, for that matter.

Bhakti Yoga will then consist in having one's mind continually turned toward, or linked to, that chosen deity through all of one's daily tasks. But since divinity is present in all things, one may devote oneself equally to some living person as an incarnation or manifestation of the divine-or even to some animal or plant. In the Hindu marriage the woman is to be thus devoted to her husband. He is god for her, just as the deity of his caste or craft-guild, the deity of his particular system of duty, is God for him.

There is an illuminating story told of the deity Krishna, who, in the form of a human child, was raised among a little company or tribe of herdsmen. One day he said to them, when he saw them preparing to worship one of the great Gods of the Brahminical pantheon: "But why do you worship a deity in the sky? The support of your life is here, in your cattle. Worship these! " Whereupon, they hung garlands around the necks of their cattle and paid them worship. This wonderful art of recognizing the divine presence in all things, as a ubiquitous presence, is one of the most striking features of Oriental life, and is particularly prominent in Hinduism.

I have seen very simple people out in the country, climbing a hill, who, when they became tired and paused to rest and eat, set up a stone, poured red paint around it, and then reverently placed flowers before it. The pouring of the red paint set that stone apart. The idea was simply that those people were now going to regard it, not as a stone, but as a manifestation of the divine principle that it is immanent in all things. The pouring of the red paint and placing of the flowers were typical acts of Bhakti, Devotional Yoga: simple devices, readily available to anyone, to shift the focus of the mind from the phenomenal aspect of the object as a mere stone to its mystery of a miracle of being. And this popular form of yoga, no less than the very much sterner and more difficult discipline of Patanjali's Yoga Sutras, to which I first alluded, is a technique to link consciousness to the ultimate truth: the mystery of being. The sense of the whole universe as a manifestation of the radiance of God and of yourself as likewise of that radiance, and the assurance that this is so, no matter what things may look like, round about, is the key to the wisdom of India and the Orient.

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http://www.jcf.org/pub/hindu.html
Joseph Campbell Foundation
Joseph Campbell - author of several books.

http://www.atributetohinduism.com/articles_hinduism/12.htm

Review: Sophia Morgana

Currently in my holidays, I'm writing a story on a girl named Sophia, living in a world where sci-fi and fantasy are joined in holy matrimony. Well, actually, she has many names; Ainalile, Sophia Morgana, and Alistair.

She returned to her Grandmother in the Highlands, and met her long lost childhood friend. Her friend a man now, a researcher of pathology and herbology. Not only her faithfulness was tested (she has a boyfriend back in the city), her faith and view on life was also tested. She was about to be changed, and even her whole lifestyle and character. She had not only to face her own flaws, but also the flaws of the entire human race. For she was ordained by a Goddess, and that became her life's mission.

From the tropical Highlands, back to her cosmopolitan harbor city, which was the jewel of the Empire, and way north to the capital of the Eglasdeurian Empire, the seat of power of which affects the entire global community. In Eglasdeur, she met with the Emperor, and his daughter, the Crown Princess, who she made friends with. Sophia is about to change her, and prepare her to be the ruler she ought to be for the benefit of the entire human race. But their friendship was also tested, and Sophia has to choose between her friend, her love and her divine mission.

Flesh & Bones

The other day I was walking to my bf in MidValley Megamall. While I was on my way, I pass along a perfume booth, you know, those setup in the courts as if for exhibition, but NOT. And these kinda things, they usually hire especially stylish, if not extraordinarily good-looking (or gorgeous), people as promoters. My eyes were caught by a very dashing one; body fit white shirt, stylish pants, and well done hair, all that a person like me would envy for the rest of his life. But then, at that very moment of exalted adoration, my vision was struck by a weirdest visualization of not my imagination. That god in white raiment had suddenly become naked! Of course, that would certainly have my cock all standing up, but NO, that wasn't the outcome!

That dashing prince was not only stripped of his stylish clothes, but also his hair and skin! His flesh and veins were all exposed! Everybody please say, "eeeEEEwww". And then, not even after a second of my reaction for utter disgustion, I was bombarded with the sight of his flesh and veins being stripped from his bones! At last, all that is left of that mortal god in white was his bones, and the skeleton was serving highly chemically induced substance, which could kill your brain cells and olfactory gland, to an unsuspecting middle-income ignorant consumer doomed to be deceived by the perfume manufacturer with their deceitful marketting gimmick by using more-than-good-looking people as promoters.

Ohmigawd, to my horrendous realization!!! After that, all I could see in the hallways of the mall was flesh and bones purchasing objects unneeded in exchange for the money they had earned with the labor that costs more than what it is paid. It was a sad, sad, sad day for me window shopping in this building of which is the hallmark of human ignorance and a monument to humanity's greatest cause of suffering and pain, Consumerism.

(='.'=)
GT

Odd Rabbi Out

These four rabbis had a series of theological arguments, and three were always in accord against the fourth. One day, the odd rabbi out, after the usual "3 to 1, majority rules" statement that signified that he had lost again, decided to appeal to a higher authority.

"Oh, God!" he cried. "I know in my heart that I am right and they are wrong! Please give me a sign to prove it to them!"

It was a beautiful, sunny day. As soon as the rabbi finished his prayer, a storm cloud moved across the sky above the four. It rumbled once and dissolved. "A sign from God! See, I'm right, I knew it!" But the other three disagreed, pointing out that storm clouds form on hot days.

So the rabbi prayed again: "Oh, God, I need a bigger sign to show that I am right and they are wrong. So please, God, a bigger sign!" This time four storm clouds appeared, rushed toward each other to form one big cloud, and a bolt of lightning slammed into a tree on a nearby hill.

"I told you I was right!" cried the rabbi, but his friends insisted that nothing had happened that could not be explained by natural causes.

The rabbi was getting ready to ask for a VERY big sign, but just as he said, "Oh God...," the sky turned pitch black, the earth shook, and a deep, booming voice intoned, "HEEEEEEEE'S RIIIIIIIGHT!"

The rabbi put his hands on his hips, turned to the other three, and said, "Well?"

"So," shrugged one of the other rabbis, "now it's 3 to 2."

Cupid & Psyche

There once lived the most beautiful girl in the world. She was born into a royal family, and had two elder sisters. Psyche was her name. She made her father’s city a pilgrim’s destination for her beauty was known far and wide, and many people came to see her. When they saw her and returned, they would come again to worship her divine beauty. This of course enraged Venus the Goddess of Beauty and Passionate Love. Because of Psyche, the Goddess’s favorite cities were abandoned to ruin, and her temples were filled with dust. Thus, Venus came to Cupid her son, the God of Love, to make Psyche fall in love with the most despicable and disgusting being in the living world. With his swift wings, the youthful God flew to Psyche, and beheld her beauty. And it came to past that Cupid, love itself, fell in love with Psyche.

Many years had past. Psyche’s both elder sisters were each married to a king. But Psyche was not desired by anyone, although her beauty commands the worship of all. Indeed, pilgrims still come, and were only satisfied to behold her beauty, and they would pass. The King and Queen were worried beyond measure. How could their most beautiful daughter has not attracted the love of any being? And so they went to Delphi the Oracle of Apollo to seek for counsel. Cupid had spoken to Apollo the God of Youth and Light, and acquired his aid in this matter. Hence, the priestess of Apollo told the King that her daughter must be dressed for mourning, and be sent to a mountain in the North. There a winged serpent will seek her and be her husband. Or else, Psyche is doomed to decay into old age without knowing what is love.

Reluctant they were, but still they dressed her as if for mourning, and made a procession for her funeral all the way to the mountain. Psyche made no resistance, and submitted willingly to her parents’ will, for she herself desired to end her life if that is indeed the fate of her being. They’d come to the mountain, left her, and cried to the last drop of moist in their eyes having losing their precious daughter. It was noon when she was left there at the horrible mountain all alone. At last, dusk came, and true darkness arrived. Suddenly, she heard voices around. The voices were bidding her to follow them. And so she followed, through a cave, across a valley and over a hill. At the end of her journey, she’d come to a handsome palace of gold, silver and gems. Psyche thought that no winged serpent lives in this stately mansion, but he must be a great king. The great doors opened, and she was bidden to enter although it was completely dark in there. When the doors were closed, the voices told her to eat, bathe, enjoy the music, and be ready to what she wills.

The food prepared was delicious beyond compare. All the while she ate, an angelic choir singing to a lyre was there to entertain her. She bathed in water that is most soothing to her skin, and pleasing to her nose. All these she done in darkness. She was then dressed for bed, and laid in the softest bed she’d ever lied on. As expected, her husband has come in the guise of darkness, and they bedded together. Indeed, there were feathers indicative of wings on his back, but his skin was the smoothest to her touch. A youth’s voice had whispered in her eyes throughout the night. The palace was well lit in the day, but when night comes, when her husband arrives, the chambers and halls were covered in deep darkness. At last, she had found love, but her joy did not last for doubts visit her from time to time. For how can a person be content with this half-and-half companionship?

She lived her life in this state for a year by now, and was nearly content with this companionship but for the dark-guise of her husband. One night, her husband warned her that trouble in the form of two women is coming. She must by all means not to meet them. But she was let to know they were her sisters, who had come to mourn at her grave. She begged and cried, and at last her husband gave in, and allowed Psyche to visit her sisters outside the palace. Happily she went out and greeted her sisters, and the women embraced and wept tears of joy for they had thought Psyche had surely died. It was morn, Psyche brought her sisters into the palace halls, despite the warning of her husband. The two women were immediately wrapped in envy and jealous rage. Not even their king-husbands might and wealth could compare with the glory and majesty of what their youngest sister owned now. The two of them immediately plot to ruin her life.

The queen-sisters whispered into Psyche’s ears that her husband must surely be the winged serpent. The serpent had used sorcery and the guise of night to cover his ugliness. Surely, one night the hideous beast will turn to her and gnaw her flesh. Psyche bent to her sisters’ will, and asked for counsel. The sisters told her that they will hide near their chamber, and she shall lit a lamp in order to behold his hideousness, and another hand hold a knife to be ready to stab her monstrous husband to death. After the murder was done, the sisters will safely bring her home.

That night, her husband came as always. Knowing that her husband had slept, she stood and went for a lamp and the knife hidden in her wardrobe. When the lamp was lit, she cannot believe what she saw. Her husband was the prettiest creature she had ever seen. A youth at the edge of adulthood, his face so beautiful, and his glorious white wings shone under the lamplight. She trembled for the shock that had overwhelmed her, and burning oil from the lamp spilled onto the smooth-skinned shoulders of her husband. Cupid woke up in pain and disappointment.

“Love,” Cupid said, “cannot live where there is no trust!” He then flew out from the chamber window never to return again.

Psyche covered her face with her hands, and wept. Then she said, “He may no longer love me, but he can never stop me from loving him.” Hence, she started her search for Love, from the deepest valley to the highest peak, but he was nowhere to be seen, whilst she tired herself.

“Of course, he must be at his mother’s,” and she was right for all people wounded at heart will always seek for healing from their parents. But she cannot go straight to Venus for she will only woo her wrath upon her. So she went from shrine to shrine, from temple to temple, to seek gods and goddesses that will aid her in being with Cupid again but to no avail. For no god would ally with a mortal so to be an enemy of Venus one of the most powerful goddesses in the World, not even Zeus himself dare to anger this goddess. At last, Psyche had to go to her and face her wrath.

Indeed, Cupid was in his mother’s chamber, licking his burned shoulder and his wounded heart. Venus knew when Cupid had healed; he will surely realized he missed Psyche. Before he realizes anything, Venus barred the door to her chamber.

“You stole the hearts of my worshippers, and now my son. And you even wounded him!” Venus said to Psyche, “Here you are asking for my grace and the love of my son! Outrageous! I will smite you!”

“Hear me first, O great goddess, before you strike me!” Psyche said at her kneels, “Only then you smite me to dust. I will do whatever you ask me to do to gain your grace and to atone the wrong I’ve done upon Cupid. Please, let me this one chance to die without guilt.”

“Very well, then,” the Goddess said, “I have three tasks for you. If you could accomplish all these labors, then I will consider whether to forgive you or not.”

Venus conjured a mountain-high pile of mixed barley, wheat and millet grains, and she said, “ First, you must sort each grain to its kind by sunrise. If you can’t do this by then, I will surely smite you!”

Psyche was left with the pile, and she pondered. It was impossible to be done, and so she cried. At this hour, no being from high and low pity save the smallest of things, an ant came to her. The ant then said to his industrious friends, “O this fair maiden is worth our compassion. Let us help with this impossible task.” One by one, the ants came and each picked a little grain in their pinchers, and carefully placed each grain to its kind. Before sunrise, the first labor was accomplished.

“You are aided, for sure,” Venus said, “Very well, then. Here is your second task: See the golden wool on the golden rams in the valley below. Collect me a baleful of that, and I’ll be mighty glad.”

Psyche was left there again, and wept for the golden rams were ferocious creatures, which favored the flesh of men. They were impossible approach, and she wept most sorrowfully. The reeds of the river in the valley heard the lamentations of Psyche, and pitied her. The reeds said to Psyche, “The rams pass through the thorny bushes every night to drink and rest by the river. Go to the thorns when the rams are asleep.” Hence, she followed the directions happily, and very soon she collected a baleful of the golden wool dangling on the thorns.

“Again, you are aided,” Venus said, “But for the third task, no help can come to you, this I am fairly sure. See the black river there; find its source and use this jug to collect the black water from the dark spring.”

That river was the Great Styx, the river of the dead that encircles the Underworld. She spent a year searching all the borderlands of the Underworld, and found the horrible spring. It was high upon a cliff, and only a winged creature could reach this place. Tired and fatigued, she sat down and tried to cry, but no moist and voice came to her, for she was utterly drained from the very bottom of her spirit. Alas, an eagle came and snatched the jug in her hands, and flew to the spring. Carefully, the eagle collected the black water in the jug with his beak and returned it to Psyche.

“You’ve gained my grace,” the Goddess said, “save that you need to do me this one last favor. Cupid needed my soothing, and I’m weary, and my beauty slackens. Take this box and go to Persephone. Ask for some of her beauty for me, will you?”

Very wearied Psyche was, but she will not allow all her previous labors went in vain. She will do her last bidding, and finally gained the Goddess’s grace and the love of Cupid. But to enter the Underworld was no easy thing to do. The Great Styx, a foul river, needed to be crossed, and the Underworld gate was guarded by the three headed hound Cerberus, and to seek for the house of Persephone, one needed to go through the labyrinthine and ghostly roads and fields of the Underworld.

It was a journey that required great courage, and the road was not mapped. She didn’t know the way, and sat under a tree and wept. The tree pitied her, and taught her the way, for the tree’s roots drink from the well of the deep. The tree told her to take a coin to pay old Charon the bargeman of the Syx for the crossing, and a cake to feed Cerberus, and a spring bird so that it may show her the way to house of Lady Spring in the Underworld.

She followed exactly the tree’s directions; she paid Charon and crossed the river, she fed Cerberus and entered the gate unhindered, she let fly the spring bird and it flew to where Spring was, hiding in the Underworld in the month of winter. Persephone received her, and gladly gave a little bit of her beauty to Venus. Psyche then returned to the world of light quicker than her journey under. However, while she was running to the abode of Venus, Psyche realized she was all worn, dirtied and tired; not the best look to present herself before her darling she thought to herself. She pondered at the box, and thought that she could use a little of the beauty charm. Psyche opened it, and a sudden sleep overtook her body and mind.

Cupid was healed and his heart ached less. He realized how much he missed Psyche, and wanted to meet her again. The door was barred, but Love cannot be prison for he will always find a way to show up. With his swift wings, he flew out of Venus’s chamber window, and went looking for Psyche. He found Psyche left to wither in sleep. Cupid embraced Psyche in his arms, and picked one of his love arrows to prickle her hand. Psyche woke up with a yelp of pain, and beheld Love in her eyes. They embraced one another even harder for they had missed each other so much.

Cupid then carried Psyche in his arms, and flew to Olympus to ask Zeus the King of Gods and Men to bestow immortality upon his love. Then, Zeus said, “You, Cupid, had made me changed into a bull, a swan, and a myriad of things in chase of earthly maidens …but I will still grant you your wish.” Hence, Psyche was given ambrosia to eat, and she and Cupid lived their immortality together. Venus too was glad with this reunion, although previously she harbored great hatred for Psyche. For she perceived that Psyche would now be busy with her divine household chores, and could hardly appear on earth to contest with her for worshippers.

At last, this is a tale about Love and the Soul finding each other, for Psyche is indeed the latter.

© 2004 Tommy Ho

Lulu

Today is like a white sheet of paper
With no markings of semen whatsoever
I have no desire to quench the earth
For the earth is exploding with dazzles
And crumbling into dust
And the mites eat it.

Who is it that knocks at the door?
Isn't he who claim the crown
An elephant-footed man!
How disastorous!
How ridiculous!
To hell and let the red flame
Burn forever in water and flower ...

O how lovely is thy bossoms
Let me caress them
And I'll squeeze the blood out of it
Let me lick this elixir of life
So death can have another fun time
With his sickle and dick.

On A Wednesday of Strawberry Kings

A fish in a bowl of feathers with hay and fire.
A hailstorm has come,
what are you going to do but pee on a bushfire.
Kill yourself, kill me as well,
And you will get all the treasures of Troy
And toys and boys, and make love for ever and more.
Love me, love yourself not,
What is there to fell but reeds in the Nile,
And so many miles ahead to the Blue Mountains,
Where love-birds and song-birds burn with cream and sugar.
Laugh, laugh out loud, we are crazy, we are smart.
We know nothing and fear all things.
Come into the pool of lovelorn lovers,
Let a scarab crawl into your ear.
Count the flowers in the sky,
And smell the holes in the earth,
What you will get is only two pineapples eating a watermelon.
Love seeds inside beads of meat,
And balls of fire rowing down the factory lane.
Happily, joyously down the drain.

Magecraft

Power is everywhere. How do one come to tap it? How do one come to use it? Is it rightful to use it for obscene and petty reasons?

Power is everywhere: from above, below, around, inside you and others. To tap Power, one must be capable of sincere faith and complete knowing of his thoughts and actions. One often hear that believing is what makes Power real. I say not. Believe is merely believing. Can you believe that a stone is hard? No. One experiences the hardness of a stone. One believing in a stone being hard, does not make a stone hard. One must KNOW a stone is hard, than the experience of the hardness of the stone becomes reality! To acquire Power, one must know the 'hardness' before one experiences it. In conclusion, one experiences Power before the result is manifested. It is that simple. But the difficulty remains in sincere believing (knowing).

This also works with drawing Power from deities. But are deities real? One only need to know it, and it will become real. But I tell you this, to draw Power from another being, is to be indebted. Power is everywhere. Why bound oneself to one or a few choices? The only thing we own in this World is Free Will. Do not lightly give your freedom to another. That is the only thing one have. One becomes the poorest without Free Will. Free Will is Freedom in action, one must know this.

The solution is for one to Will the knowing. One must have the Will to acquire Power. Where there is a Will, there is a Way, hear this before? Will is sincere believing (knowing) that one can work things out. One Wills Power to be yours, and one will have what one Wills. This is Willpower. Many call it Magick.

After one Wills Power into one's grasp, one Wills it to do one's wills. It is only that. Rituals are for reinforcing beliefs. If one's Willpower attained a high degree, rituals become redundant.

Is it right to use Willpower to do wrongs? I tell you this, all there is are cause and effect. Just like when one burns one's finger purposefully, one feels pain. Do one call this cause-effect a wrong? It is just a cause-effect. So do what one wills but be ready for the burn upon one's finger.

One's finger is also one's most Powerful wand. There is no wand better than one's finger. Point at the direction, the object and/or the replication of one's goal, and direct all one's Willpower upon it. Close one's eyes, and experience what one Wills even before the result is manifested. Sincerely believe (know) that it is happening. It is only that simple. But it is also so difficult. But practise makes perfect, though. Meditation also hones one's Willpower.

(C) GT 2004

Divine Knowledge

Who can tell me things
That one thing is right
And the other wrong?
Who can tell me these
And I deem he blasphemer
For how can there be a right
How can there be a wrong
When all things are Absolute
When all things come from One Source
When all things are made
Have been made before
Have been thought of
Have been loved?

If all things were loved
Are loved
Will be loved
Then how can we not love
All things of this World
For have not the One
Made all things clear
In His Words
In His Actions
In His Emotions
That all things of His making
Is His love?

For all things are His making
Things that are not His
Cannot arise in this World
So take solace in this knowledge
For all things right and wrong
Good or bad
Light or Dark
Are His infinite expression
His show of love
For us.

Have peace in you
Have love in you
Have knowing in you
For believing is not enough
For believing is not substance
It is in knowing an idea takes form
Know that the One is real
Just like knowing a rock is hard
For He is real
For this World cannot take form
Without His Will
All things are His Will
For things not of this World
Cannot arise without His love
His making
His Will

He allow many things to happen
Because He loves all
Who can understand Him?
I tell you this secret:
It is only through knowing
Not believing.

Believing is not substance
Knowledge is great
It is divinely His.

(='.'=)
GT

Three Sticks

sometimes i think i'm going crazee ...
from time to time, i'll have a crush on tis guy and that
and sometimes i'll have a crush on two guys at the same time
i guess i'm the living embodiment of love that lasts forever ...
becoz i'm always in love with so many people ...

or izzit that i have a hyper sex drive?

but i always have tis urge to care, to be concerned, to worry
to notice, to be aware of the person that i have a crush on ...

is this the kinda feeling that a highly sex-drived person would feel
for his object of desire?

but i'm already attached?

anyhow, so far i just put tis feelings aside
and ignore them

true enough ignoring them doesn't encourage tis feelings
to grow any further

i am still peacefully in love with my current bf
and that is enough for me

i don't like to play three sticks!
but the thought of it tickles me from time to time ...