Tantra-Induced Delusional Syndrome ("TIDS")

[American Dream]

[American Dream]

[American Dream]

A vision could put you on a path you don’t want to follow.

- Archie Fire Lame Deer, LAKOTA

[American Dream]

BATAILLE ON EROTICISM

Poetry leads to the same place as all forms of eroticism — to the blending and fusion of separate objects. It leads us to eternity, it leads us to death, and through death to continuity. Poetry is eternity; the sun matched with the sea.


L’Erotisme - 1957

[American Dream]

http://www.under35project.com/submissio ... arma-life/

What It is Like to Live the Dharma Life

By Duc Hong Ta | October 27, 2011

Like everyone else who finds themselves in prison, you either find religion or you find the devil’s playground. At age 16, I found both.

Being Chinese American, I was raised Buddhist. Everyone in my family for generations was a Buddhist. I remember being dragged from temple to temple for this holiday and that holiday. Sometimes they would take me straight to a temple right after I was suspended from school for fighting. Maybe they thought it would remove the bad spirits thought to possess me that made me fight people. I prayed to three different shrines twice a day. I held the incense in my palm bowing three times before placing it in one of those ash filled cups. I knew I was a Buddhist. I told people I was a Buddhist. But I didn’t live the way of my faith. Did I really know my faith like I was demonstrating with my daily prayers and bowing to the Buddha? I didn’t have a single clue.

Life wasn’t the greatest for me growing up. There were sweet moments here and there, but the bitterness of my father’s temper and abuse out weighed everything else. As in any typical Asian immigrant family, if one screwed up, you most likely got your butt whooped. Just the way it went, especially with the Chinese folks. Seems to be part of their tradition and culture. You can’t disrespect the elders and bring shame to the family name. With my bad temperament and ego, I grew up fighting and being beaten by my father on a regular basis. I asked myself that if my father was such a devoted Buddhist, how could he treat me like this? Yet, everything I did involved those same ingredients that were used raising me.

I had my father’s bad temper and tendency to violent outbursts. I rebelled against everyone and anything. No one could tell me anything and eventually I found myself in a situation where shots were fired out of my car at two other people while I was driving. By the grace of Buddha, no one was hit or physically injured though I can’t say the same for the damage done emotionally and mentally to all involved. I was arrested and booked in the local juvenile facility and what I thought would be just a weekend trip ended up being a 35-year to life sentence at the age of 16. My entire life spun out of control and crumbled. I couldn’t comprehend the seriousness of it all. I had no criminal record or run in with the law prior to this and I was just a kid. It was a death sentence to me. My life was over. Before I knew what hit me, I was being shipped off to one of California’s state prisons for hardened criminals. I thought I was tough but I knew I wasn’t as tough as the men awaiting the arrival of this new fish. Those guys were going to tear me apart and have their way with me. I couldn’t let that happen. I followed the advice from some guy at county jail, telling me I better assert my dominance as soon as I got off that bus. And that’s just what I did.

At least for the first seven years of my prison sentence. Although I practiced meditation and read countless books on Buddhism, violence was the problem and the solution to everything I encountered. I saw endless counts of violence that have been etched into my skull and will haunt me for the rest of my life. The first book I ever read in my life was The Way of the Warrior by Thich Nhat Hanh when I was first locked up in juvenile hall. I never forgot what I read, that there was another way to be a warrior than the one I thought I had to be. But I had become a product of my environment, a product built by violence and for violence. While I’ve done things I’m not proud of, things I thought were necessary at the time to survive, I never completely forgot my faith. It was always behind me even when I didn’t know it, as if it knew I would one day turn around and there it would be in all its beauty with open arms. It wasn’t until a very dark and difficult time several years ago that I read Ruling Your World by Sakyong Mipham Rinpoche that my world completely changed.

I took a deep look into myself as a human being and looked at the things I was doing. I was only in my mid-twenties but I looked much older. I was letting the system win by chipping pieces of my soul away and I was falling faster than I knew. No longer did I want to be a contributor of violence and negativity to my life and the world I lived in any more. Deep down I knew with all of my heart that I was not a person of violence. It was a choice that I thought I had to make from being so afraid and immature. I made a vow to myself that I was going to live a life of love, compassion and kindness. Like Buddha who lived amongst the poor and suffering I would find solace and goodness in the people around me. I saw that life was about suffering and I needed to learn how to understand my own in order to cope with my ordeal. I made the choice not to let the hate and anger of this place take me, instead I practice dealing with the negativity and violence around me with love, compassion and kindness. By doing that, I learned that one can resolve anything without striking another and that love can truly overcome anything, even the meanest and toughest of them all.

Living the Dharma life gave me a new life. I was resurrected from the dead and my soul is thriving to live the life I was meant to live. I am a better son, a better brother, a better friend, but most importantly a better person. Through consistent meditation and practice of Buddhism, I no longer feel the emotion of hate towards others nor does the thought of physical violence ever approach my mind when I am confronted by anyone that is hostile. If anything, my heart breaks when I see violence being done to another, physically or verbally. I have dedicated my life while still in prison to be of service to those in need. Don’t get me wrong, there are days when I feel beaten and worn down. But Patience and Compassion are key elements to my practice. I find myself failing from time to time. But to me failure simply means that method didn’t work and now you know not to do that again and to find a better way. After all I am a Buddhist practitioner not a Buddhist monk. I am going to be tested and I will fail but I will just breathe and pick myself up and move forward. We’re not perfect and we never will be, but we can learn to be a better person simply by practicing.

[American Dream]

Once I traveled far above the Earth. This beloved planet we call home was covered with an elastic web of light. I watched in awe as it shimmered, stretched, dimmed and shined, shaped by the collective effort of all life within it. Dissonance attracted more dissonance. Harmony attracted harmony. I saw revolutions, droughts, famines and the births of new nations. The most humble kindnesses made the brightest lights. Nothing was wasted.




—Joy Harjo, The Woman Who Fell From the Sky, W.W. Norton 1996

[American Dream]

I CALL, BY CHRYSTOS

a stranger’s gift I call your name The wind folds
it back a bit of debris I call your name erasing you
I rake my hair your twigs fly off Whatever words
You spoke were lies You have to live with your lips
I’ve gone for a walk my beauty blowing around me
The storm recedes You could see sun breaking
through the rainbows in my lashes if you had courage
I glance backward You’re a fallen tree sprouting ferns
I wrap myself in light

[Hammer of Los]

...

The Thunder, Perfect Mind

Translated by George W. MacRae

I was sent forth from the power,
and I have come to those who reflect upon me,
and I have been found among those who seek after me.
Look upon me, you who reflect upon me,
and you hearers, hear me.
You who are waiting for me, take me to yourselves.
And do not banish me from your sight.
And do not make your voice hate me, nor your hearing.
Do not be ignorant of me anywhere or any time. Be on your guard!
Do not be ignorant of me.

For I am the first and the last.
I am the honored one and the scorned one.
I am the whore and the holy one.
I am the wife and the virgin.
I am <the mother> and the daughter.
I am the members of my mother.
I am the barren one
and many are her sons.
I am she whose wedding is great,
and I have not taken a husband.
I am the midwife and she who does not bear.
I am the solace of my labor pains.
I am the bride and the bridegroom,
and it is my husband who begot me.
I am the mother of my father
and the sister of my husband
and he is my offspring.
I am the slave of him who prepared me.
I am the ruler of my offspring.
But he is the one who begot me before the time on a birthday.
And he is my offspring in (due) time,
and my power is from him.
I am the staff of his power in his youth,
and he is the rod of my old age.
And whatever he wills happens to me.
I am the silence that is incomprehensible
and the idea whose remembrance is frequent.
I am the voice whose sound is manifold
and the word whose appearance is multiple.
I am the utterance of my name...

Etc.

http://www.gnosis.org/naghamm/thunder.html

I know the Thunderer.

He is The Mighty One.

He is the Strongest One there Is.

Inside me Now doth He dwell.

And this;

A vision could put you on a path you don’t want to follow.

- Archie Fire Lame Deer, LAKOTA

God help me.

Which is just to say;

Thanks everyone.

...

[American Dream]

[American Dream]

THE DHAMMA OF THE BUDDHA

Arise! Sit up!
Of what use are your dreams?
How can you who are sick
And pierced with the arrow of grief
Continue to sleep?


Arise! Sit up!
Train yourself to win peace.
Let not the king of death,
Knowing you to be lazy,
Trick you into his realm.


Cross over this attachment,
Tied to which both gods and men are trapped.
Do not let this chance slip by,
Because for those who do,
There is only hell.


Dusty is indolence.
Dust comes in its wake.
With knowledge and vigilance,
Draw out the arrow of suffering from yourself





From: http://writeaction.tumblr.com/

[American Dream]

The Red Shoes ~ She's Lost Control

[American Dream]

How Uncle Walt Acid-Washed My Brain

Dawna Kaufmann

In the mid-'70s when I was a wide-eyed young hippie, my favorite place to get high was Disneyland, which was a short hop from my Hollywood pad. My then-boyfriend and I would hightail it to Fantasyland, taking the Skyway gondola across the park, a ride just long enough for us to share a doobie in privacy, with only the employees on the Tomorrowland end the wiser. Fortified by our Vitamin M, Rick and I would enjoy the rest of our visit in the theme park that calls itself "The Happiest Place on Earth." Usually, we agreed with that opinion.Unlike today, when an all-inclusive passport to the park allows you to float from ride to ride unfettered except for long lines of people, in those days the rides had tickets in denominations of A, B, C, D and E with E being the best. If you wanted more E's, you had to buy them. Our precious big-deal tickets were always earmarked for the Haunted House and the Pirates of the Caribbean, both relatively new and top-of-the-line rides in New Orleans Square. We certainly never would've squandered an E on Fantasyland's It's a Small World,the "living commercial" for Bank of America in which you rode a track car through rooms of costumed puppets from foreign lands singing the sappy anthem in their native tongues.

Knowing the park's layout as well as we did, we would hit all the niftiest spots and, many hours later, head home with tired feet and a pocket of lower-end tickets, grumbling because we couldn't afford to buy additional E's to ride our faves again and again. Or maybe we were just pissed that we'd worn the wrong shoes and the reefer had worn off. Whatever.We learned that on December 31, there'd be a special celebration. Disneyland would operate as usual until 6 p.m., then close down and empty the park, reopening at 8 p.m. for a New Year's Eve party that would last until 3 a.m. For a fixed price, attendees would be able to ride anything to their heart's content. _This was for us!_ But however much the fixed price, it was over our budget.Still we decided we'd not only find a way in, but would cheer the occasion with LSD we'd received as a Christmas gift. The plan was to go to Disneyland early in the day, pay only the cheapo general admission price (no ride tickets included), find a place to hide for the two hours, take our acid, then come out at 8 p.m.and par-tay all night into the new year.Arriving around 4 p.m., we set about finding a hiding place- surely an easy task for habitues such as us. Well, _Bzztt!_ When we tried to go behind buildings or rides, we were met with barbed-wire fences, attack dogs or armed security guards.There was no secret haven for us on Main Street, in any of the "Lands," near the Swiss Family Treehouse or even on Tom Sawyer's Island.On yet another pass through Fantasyland, we spied a tiny white gate we hadn't seen before and, desperate, we ran through it, surprised there were no impediments. It led to a grassy knoll directly behind It's a Small World, and under the track for the Mine Train.

It was now six o'clock and workers were clearing the park of patrons, so we had no choice but to curl up on the wet grass and hope we wouldn't be spotted.We dropped the acid and sat under bushes about three feet apart, whispering that soon the horrible Small World music would be turned off, and maybe we could catch a few Z's. But the Spirit of Walt Disney had another plan for us- one as cold as the ice his corpse is allegedly frozen in today.Turned out the park didn't really close for those two hours. It was designated play time for employees, so they could have their own "free rides party" before working the night shift. The music never ended: "It's a world of laughter/A world of tears/It's a world of hopes/And a world of fears/There's so much that we share/That it's time we're aware/It's a small world after all/It's a small world after all/It's a small world after all/It's a small world after all/It's a small,small world." In English, Spanish, French, German, Italian, Japanese, Samoan and who knows what else. Repeating and hypnotic. And, for two damp acid-heads, brain-bending and demonic. In fetal positions, with cigarette butts as useless earplugs, we lay there utterly paralyzed.

The insidious tune tortured us until, like victims of Stockholm syndrome, we actually began to sing along. The LSD blazed mind pictures that taunted and haunted us, but we couldn't fight back.To make things worse, the Mine Train whizzed by us regularly, and when employees on it noticed us, they pelted us with soft drinks and ice. Their aim got better with each cycle. I suppose we should've been pleased that they didn't turn us in and have us arrested. Having to go to the underground police station in our stony condition, and risking the chance of seeing Mickey and Minnie Mouse carrying their giant heads in their hands, would have surely caused lifelong trauma.So for two hours we endured. At eight o'clock, we rose up, brushed the ants and grass off ourselves, sneaked back through the white gate and joined the crowd.

We ran to the front of the park to collect our party hats and noisemakers, then scampered to the Skyway for a much-needed joint. The rest of the night was as good as it gets, the ultimate Disneyland experience, and my most memorable acid trip.

http://www.scribd.com/doc/54443957/3/Ch ... teful-Dead

[American Dream]

Singing to the plants.

[American Dream]

[American Dream]

The overwhelming military and industrial power of the “West” produces an immense hallucination that what it does is History and only what it does matters, whereas the rest of us are to remain in a cyclic stupor, in awe and paralysis.

--The Darker Nations: A People’s History of the Third World - Vijay Prashad