On this Memorial Day, I wish to honor our Seers, warriors of a different kind.
To see into the beyond requires purity... and the securing it makes him perforce a hermit from his kind... He must abandon cities and forego plains... Only in places above and aloof from men can he profitably pursue his search. He must learn to wait upon his opportunities and no less to wait for mankind's acceptance of his results... for in common with most explorers he will encounter on his return that final penalty of penetration - the certainty at first of being disbelieved. (Percival Lowell)
Percival Lowell speaks above of astronomers. His remarks are true for all Seers. There is a suspicion of anyone who sees beyond the conventional view. As Terence McKenna put it, "A shaman is a kind of sanctioned psychotic."
But to what kind of person would I go with my madness: a practitioner of chemical lobotomy? a missionary for a thought community? a huckster of political persuasion? No. Only to someone as mad as I am, a warrior of vigor and of love, one with a glint of steel in his eye and warm openness of heart, one sanctioned by society though (and because) his mind has fully blown into the beyond (gate! gate! paragate!) and he has returned and gives his report.
Where would we be without such bodhisattvas, the Seers who return and dwell among us?
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Yesterday I watched an old Nova called "Einstein Revealed." Amazing to be a shaman, know you are a shaman and toil in that lonely ether for a lifetime.
ReplyDelete--Steve
George,
ReplyDeleteA long time ago (in my experience, it was the fall of 1974), you went to your base-ment to seek enlightenment. You accepted visitors. I visited...
I visited to see if I could catch a glimpse of the process and, if lucky, what you were looking for. It was dark down there, and I sure couldn't see enlightenment anywhere. You quickly assured me enlightenment was there and worth the seeking. I believed you, but I went back upstairs to find out what all the noise was about. It wasn't about much of anything... it was mostly just noise.
I peeked back down a few years back. You were still rummaging around down there, murmering to your-self audibly enough I heard a few phrases I understood. I called down, "Hello, George!" You responded with a warm greeting and resumed your murmering.
Today I came back to your basement for another look at what you were up to. I wasn't surprised to see you're still rummaging around. It's a big basement! Seek on, my friend and, if you find what you're seeking, could you bring it upstairs? I'd join you in your basement, but it's a pretty scary place.
I rummage around my own basement from time to time. I know where the door is. I occasionally catch a glimpse of enlightenment - it never looks the same twice. Why did I expect it to?
My occasional brief rummaging helps me appreciate the mind-boggling energy of your searching-ness! My base-ment is just as dark, but it's not scary. I recognize the junk...
David A
Hi David, I find that the basement surrounds us and that it is really the Base Mint, the Ground where all creation arises freshly Minted.
ReplyDeleteI find no junk in it anywhere unless I bring it in from my second-hand store. All is blazing in fulfillment.
Playing bingo with the dying at the local hospice is revealing other facets of the Base Mint for which I have no words. Perhaps I have come upstairs after all. It is good to hear from you.
David A,
ReplyDeleteEmail me. Let me know what is going on in your "upstairs."
George
georgebreed2(at)gmail.com