I attempt to describe in a sequence of ordered aphorisms the understanding I have grasped over time from esoteric sources concerning the topic mentioned. I accept and believe these things due to experience, pondering, and various researches impossible to explain here. It is offered because I find this understanding relieves many, many confusions and stands in its own kind of light which will appeal to certain kinds of people. I cannot say I fully ‘know’ these things until I experience them myself in clear spiritual perception — but it comes near to knowing for me. Do not believe or disbelieve, rather live with the ideas and test them in life. Any errors are my own.
A truly skilled healer must artistically blend a deep understanding of four diverse ingredients concerning human disease: the physical body, the psyche, the spirit, and karma. There exist almost no truly skilled healers in the world at present. 3 out of 4, or maybe even 2 out of 4, might have to do for now. This said, alternative practitioners can and do enthusiastically aim high when applying their particular slice of holistic vision to a client.
This is something I wrote almost 5 years ago. But I am re-posting it as a kind of lead in to something I’ve been working on the past few weeks, about astrology and its poor reputation. I had been trying to see clearly how binary stars move: “Lonely” Pluto’s been in the news lately due to the fly-by of the U.S. New Horizons probe. Startling images and geological questions have arisen, and two new moons have been photographed. But what piqued my interest was the pronounced wobble in Pluto’s motion, not a new discovery, which has to do with both the proximity and similarity in mass of it’s largest moon Charon. This led to a general investigation into how and why celestial bodies are influenced by each other in space, according to conventional physics.
If virus is the zeitgeist du jour, can facemask chic be far behind?
Spiritual insight, no matter how meager, is literally nothing, if not calm.
I estimate I’ve seen an indigo bunting about four, five at most, times in my life, always without searching for them. Today was one of those times, thanks to my first grader who is sort of being home-schooled at the moment given the virus. Each time I can’t quite believe the intensity of the blue.
Young Waldo comes of age, packed with ideals and oats, spends a decade on love’s battlefield, confronts the sinister edifice of romantic indifference and torpitude gone viral, goes back to the drawing board and resolves to double-down on his humanity, his mantra: “yes”…
So many precious moments I’ve lived, putting him to sleep after a long story. That sweet sweet interlude afterwards as he drifts off to paradise.
It is absolutely impossible to do certain spiritual exercises if you are habituated to an alarm clock. That most insidious of imaginary necessities. And that’s all I am going to say about it…
Every year he comes briefly and faithful like wild violets, 8 or 9 seasons now, long as I defy the clock and occupy astounded this abode. It’s not true, how things seem, that he projects staunch solitude and won’t converse. But you must approach with reverence for nature, and show you’ve learnt how human natures all command respect. Else most you’ll get is a tipped forehead and good day.