What I see, what I feel, what I do

[thoughts from   ~burning woman~   by Sha’Tara]

You wouldn’t know it from the weather here, a few miles above the 49^th parallel, west coast, but it’s the middle of summer. If it briefly hovers around 20 degrees on that infamous Celsius scale and it isn’t pouring rain, we’ve hit a heat wave!

Some things I’ve noticed recently. For one, our mosquitoes absolutely refuse to adhere to the new social distancing measures. In fact they seem to be more numerous and nastier than ever. Why don’t they give them a seasonal jail term or at the very least, quarantine them to their swamp where they come from? My American friends may complain that their Orange Twitter Twat hasn’t done much in draining their swamp but the swamp ain’t drained up here either, neither in the slough at the back of my house nor in the House of Commons (which has never housed a common to my knowledge but I’m not going there). So due to fortuitous circumstances for the little blood suckers, they’re having a great time vaxxing all and sundry, and to hell with the consequences.

Good, bad, or indifferent, there is a definite lack of enthusiasm from the consuming sheeple these days. Are they all suffering from consumption? Over consumption? Boring consumption? There’s the odd ones wandering from aisle to aisle, their expressions veiled by their muzzles which they insist on wearing as a sign of their accepted martyrdom on behalf of the common good or is it on behalf of the common who shop for goods. It is truly sad when no one gets excited over a head of lettuce or a “President’s Choice” jar of fake Dijon mustard. So sad, I’m seriously thinking of relocating to Namibia and pitch a tent in the middle of Etosha national park. I’d like to get away from it all, the only problem is, it will probably find me there as well. What’s that saying? “You can run but you can’t hide!” I’d be willing to bet that the Etosha mosquitoes are at least as effective as vaxxers as are our Canadian ones.

That’s it, I’ve used up my mildly funny-funny. Time to turn serious. No, really, I’m serious.

I’ve also noticed that some bloggers I have had great and serious conversations with are not blogging recently. Is it that, like me, they have become hesitant about sharing their thoughts on the times? Why expose our thoughts to a world that is programmed to listen only to the rich and infamous? OK, admittedly it is a waste of time. But what if there is a bit of time to waste?

I’ll say this, and this is truly mine, no one else’s. For some time now I’ve become more aware of a sense of, what shall I call it – doom? I don’t know. How about a feeling of pain that isn’t mine but imposes itself on my consciousness? I call it sorrow. It isn’t about me, my current days are relatively blissful and my future is assured so what I am feeling, which often causes tears to flow, is the pain of this world. The pain can be physical, as in hunger or deep loss, or it can be psychological, as in fear. Many things can cause fear, of course, and with 7.5 billion people tossing their feelings into the ether, there’s plenty for the empathetic mind to feel.

I knew, some time ago, that choosing to become a compassionate being would entail awakening empathy. I was also warned that to be an empathetic being on a world such as this in which so much pain is deliberately induced would be a difficult thing to bear.  I was also carefully taught that I would know joy in the midst of the sorrow and that would make one bearable while preventing the other from becoming nothing more than a selfish pursuit of personal happiness in dissipation or the drive to become successful.

The teachings and warnings are proving correct. There is sorrow but there is joy. Between them, interfacing with them, is the compassion I am slowly, perhaps too slowly, learning to express to this world. It’s at this point that detachment comes into play. What I feel is generic sorrow, not immediately personal, therefore bearable.

Bearable is OK, I can do bearable. I will post this and return to observing and feeling. It’s what I do.

 

Reaching for Awareness

[short story by   ~burning woman~  written by Sha’Tara]

“If it is true that we only live a small part of the life that is within us, what happens to the rest?

What could, what should be done with all the time that lies ahead of us?

Is it a wish, dreamlike and nostalgic, to stand once again at that point in life; to be able to take a completely different direction from the one which has made us who we are?

The fear of death might be described as the fear of not being able to become whom one planned to be.” (quotes from the movie, Night Train to Lisbon)

It was, he figured, around the middle of the night. He’d crawled out of the warm sleeping bag to stand outside and look at the night sky. The stars were slowly revolving overhead, only he knew it wasn’t the stars that were moving, but himself riding his wild planet through space and time. The thought made him feel vulnerable, fragile. Who am I to be standing here alone to witness this incredible sight? A couple of dozen years have gone by already since I was born and what do I know? I don’t even know why I was born. Happenstance? That’s it? I’m here, feeling this incredible surge of life just because, and no reason for any of it?

He thought about that as he began to shiver and long to crawl back into his little tent and the sleeping bag with its residual warmth. “I think therefore I am” he said out loud. “Well, that’s not good enough anymore because really that is meaningless. What I need to establish for myself is not the realization that “I am” which is pretty obvious and need not be stated, but “Why Am I? That’s the point!”

It was early Summer and the river level was still rising. There was the smell of fresh leaves and muddy waters flowing over mud banks and through thick grasses. You could hear the waters hissing as they flowed by the little island he’d chosen for his stay: it had just enough room to pitch the tent and bring the kayak safely out of the water. He knew “his” river, that the little island would not wash away. For the time being it was his own little private world surrounded by water. He’d chosen it as his sanctuary, a place to be alone and away from people. A place to think in ways not possible among others.

He had given himself this gift. He already knew that from here his life would take another path, go on another tangent, new ideas coalescing in his mind to foster yet another nature even if his body chose to remain essentially the same, ageing and eventually dying. That, he understood, was the way of things on Earth, “but not for me” he would say and watch friends and family walk away from him, afraid that his madness might be contagious.

“I’m sorry, Nadia” he’d told his young wife as she berated him for leaving on his “crazy” kayak outing on the river. She of course wanted nothing to do with his water ways and had done her utmost after their wedding to dissuade him and get him to sell his kayak even though she had promised she would never interfere with the part of his life that involved the river. “It’s my time of year to go on the river and partake of her awakening. I know you cannot understand this but there is no need to fear, or be jealous. This is whom you married and I kept no secrets or surprises to spring upon you. I will be back when I have done what I must do. If you do not wish to share this with me you are free to leave. I would be pleased to find you here when I return but I will not be expecting it. Take care o’ you, my lady.”

That had been his way, to set the people around him free of bonding to himself. The freedom he sought, he gave to everyone. He had never told his wife that he loved her – he did not believe in love because, as he so often said, love has proven it’s weakness in unreliability. Respect and honour, that I can offer, but not love.  This included his concept of bonding.  Stay or leave, as you choose.

Ignoring the night’s cold he let his mind wander this strange new world he had decided to enter into: detachment. Is detachment simply a coward’s way of dealing with a violent, cruel and unpredictable world? Is it a morbid fear of losing someone close, another that one has fallen in love with or developed a special bond to? Is that why I’m here, to work this out for myself?

The stars continued their uninterrupted journey over his head and he realized once again and logically that what he was observing was his own journey through the cosmos, one tiny fraction at a time.

‘I’m traveling through the cosmos but not only that, I am fully aware of this fact, right here, right now. But where am I going? Do I get to choose that or am I a piece of flotsam on the river of space-time? No, that will not be. This new nature of mine I will dedicate to discovering my destination and the next one I will use to figure out how I am supposed to get there.’

It was some time before he could calm his mind and resume his sleep.

Compassion in a Nutshell: an Explanation

OK, here goes, my stumbling attempt to clarify something that is way out of my league… but someone’s got to do it, and I promised!
Caveat: I may have posted this a couple of years ago…

Compassion in a Nutshell, as I was taught, how I experience it daily
by   ~burning woman~   expressed by Sha’Tara

What it isn’t: When I speak on compassion as I was taught by the Teachers and how I experience it, I’m never talking about a common mixture of feeling and emotion, of love, like, attraction, desire, lust, romance, or any of the usual social relationships. It is none of those.

What it is, point by point: Compassion is utterly selfless. Whatever I give to another is entirely for that other, no thought of “what’s in it for me” involved in the transaction. At the same time I realize that any expenditure of “energy” on my part is immediately replenished and added to. Since I am fully aware of this now, I have to say that although it seems a contradiction, my motivation is both, selfless and selfish.

Compassion is inclusive. This needs to be understood very clearly because the compassionate being has no enemies… ever. What is an enemy? Obviously someone you fear, either because s/he has hurt you in some personal and real way and would continue to do so, or it is someone your society has demonized. You fear and you hate. You want protection or you want to attack. These are emotional responses. In this area it isn’t forgiveness that heals, it’s compassion.

Compassion is non-emotional. In compassion there are no emotional responses. This also must be clearly understood. In the previous case of “the enemy” the concept disappears completely if there is no emotional response involved. Does that mean then that the compassionate person is android-like? Not at all. If anything the compassionate person develops and experiences deeper feelings than a normal person. I find myself constantly reacting strongly to events normal people hardly notice, take for granted or even enjoy. When I see someone eating meat the effect is mentally devastating, hence why I block any emotional response. To me all killing is murder and a “piece of meat” was a living, breathing, feeling “other” that a universally false belief backed by emotions, has turned into a billion dollar business from billions of helpless torture victims of “gastronomical” greed. Hunting, fishing, violent sports such as boxing or sports involving animals in which they suffer or are in danger of being seriously hurt – horse racing for example – these are all stumbling blocks to the empath. Try to imagine what the truly compassionate feels when confronted with instances of abuse, oppression, rape, genocide, war and mass shootings. It isn’t just “news” believe me: it’s hell. You don’t want to go there emotionally or you won’t come back. Compassion takes care of it by shutting down emotional response.

Compassion does not recognize special relationships. For a gregarious species this may be the toughest aspect to comprehend. “You mean I can’t “love” my child more than anyone else’s?” is a typical response. To a normal person such is unthinkable. So perhaps it can be explained. First, compassion doesn’t care who or what you choose to “love” or “hate” because that is neither here nor there. Compassion, being, shall I say, “higher” in nature and power than all known types of love, overrides those emotions in any case and neutralizes them. The compassionate being has no use for special relationships, they just cloud the issue. So if you already have special relationships that need your presence, input and support, compassion will certainly not prevent you from doing your duty. The difference is that these relationships, these people, animals, things you may own, are not central to your life and do not determine your thoughts and acts. You are first of all, compassion — not just compassionate — and everything else is secondary.

Compassion is never reciprocal. Another point that has to be clearly understood. Most if not all Earthian relationships exist within some form or reciprocity even if it’s just a form of recognition for altruistic acts. Ego (I don’t like using that term but most people understand what is meant by that) is usually involved in normal relationships, from the dependent to the seductive to the gimme-gimme; the protective to the controlling. I could truthfully say I suppose that compassion is self-rewarding, that it is its own reward. Indeed it doesn’t take long for a compassionate person to realize how much the practice empowers! This empowerment is highly beneficial to both, body and mind. The immune system works better and there is no energy wasted in lust, regret, recrimination, jealousy, competitive behaviour, fear or anger. There is neither a sense of gain, nor a sense of loss as far as relationships go because compassion overrides the great “need” that drives individuals into exclusive, controlling relationships.

Compassion demands, and feeds, self empowerment. A crucial point. No dependent or non self empowered person can claim to be compassionate by nature. They may express aspects of compassion at certain critical times but much of that will wear out quickly, or wear the person down because in all cases it will be the result of some response to an emotional appeal and terribly entropic. A compassionate being is a self empowered being for the two go hand in hand.

Compassion results in detachment, not just from special relationships but from “the world” as it is often called in spiritual circles. Compassion makes it possible to realize the true nature of joy and sorrow. As with so many concepts, joy and sorrow are usually misunderstood and lumped in with pleasure, fun, happiness and sadness, pain, unhappiness, grief, loss, etc. Notice that these aspects of happy/unhappy are essentially ego-centered, i.e., selfish. It is what one feels and gets emotional about. Properly understood, joy and sorrow come from empathy. Joy contains all the good being experienced by the world and conversely sorrow contains all the evil being experienced. As explained to me, Joy and Sorrow are twins, one who walks in the light, one who walks in darkness. They can only meet when someone provides a bridge between them and that’s what a compassionate person, or being, does. A compassionate being is never concerned about personal joy and/or sorrow. Taken care of.

The compassionate walk between the worlds of light and darkness and bridge the two. That is their greatest accomplishment until they move on away from here to things of higher consciousness of which I know but an inkling and cannot authoritatively speak of.

In a nutshell then, you are who you are at this moment. You make a decision to become a compassionate being. Being of sound mind you choose to make that your entire life’s purpose. Then you open yourself up completely to the “power” or “energy” your irrevocable choice brings to you. You proceed from there. You’re on your own for every decision you make and through every “battle” you must fight. Then you watch yourself become a different person until hardly anyone recognizes you. And that’s it.

“What if I enter into this thing and I fail?” one may ask. I don’t know, honestly. All I can think of is this: that anyone who enters into a life choice to become compassion cannot fail unless something was held back; there was a degree of “dishonesty” when signing on that dotted line. This thing I’m presenting here is in a sense a personal absolute. In and never out. If you’ve seen the movie “Men in Black” you will remember that signing on meant to become a different person and disappearing from your familiar world. You lost your name and became a “K” or a “J” or a “D.” This is something like that except that “you” gradually blend into “Compassion” and that is the new nature you then express to the world. Crazy, right?

If you were offered the key to saving your world, and your people, from a terrible catastrophe they’re bringing on themselves and you were convinced this was the real thing, what would YOU do? For me it wasn’t a difficult choice at all.

Best I can do in explaining the concept.

Dialogue with a Teacher

[thoughts from ~burning woman~ by Sha’Tara]

“I would be a catalyst for change, a change agent.”
“Why?” She asked, her back to me. She seemed to be staring at something beyond the horizon only she could see.
“Why?” I replied, “It’s this world, Teacher; it breaks my heart.”
“So you would change it then?”
“Yes.”
“You understand how change happens, do you not?”
“I think so… but there are so many ways…”
“No! Not if you desire good change. Yes, many ways to bring about change that nurtures unhappiness, misery and endless grief. But the good change, how do you make that come about?”
“I do not know… I simply do not know how.”
“Very well. I am going to reveal some ancient wisdom to you, then you will understand though it may change your mind about being a change agent. Have you ever fallen in love with someone? Ever been so in love that nothing else mattered?”
“Yes I have been, long, long ago.”
“Can you recall your feelings of that time?”
“Somewhat, yes. Pure madness!”
“Madness yes, but all good change comes from that sort of madness. Life proceeds from that madness. Children are born because of it. Now for the great secret but first you get one guess: where does this madness originate? What is its genesis?”
“Trick question, Teacher? I honestly do not know.”
“Such a seed can only be found in one place in the entire universe: in your heart. You must mine for it, extract it, grind and polish it, love it above everything else, desire it more than anything else then give it out freely and completely to the world you wish to see change come about in.
“Know this, that once you give it away you must die. You know the truth of it, “unless a seed falls to the ground and dies it will not produce fruit.” You were taught this when only a child and you remember that lesson. Of all the lesser teachings you received from your tribal parents and teachers, you kept this one and one other.
“Now remember this also, my Avatar, there are many ways to die. Dying is easy but there is only one way to live: with compassion through complete detachment. You understand?”
“Yes Teacher, I do understand.”
“Does it make you want to change your mind?”
I was very slow in answering her, not because I was unsure about my choices but because the moment was so charged with “sacred” energy. I suppose she would have said my reply was predictable.
“On the contrary, Teacher, this is an affirmation. As to that second lesson you alluded to, I remember it well also…”small is the gate and narrow the road that leads to life, and only a few find it.”
“Be sure to remain on it.”

Detachment to Life

[thoughts from   ~burning woman~   by Sha’Tara]

“I’ve always felt that what we are taught of detachment at home is an illusion.  I think the ancients know this too, but let us discover it on our own.  They equip us to go with a story that makes sense only until it is tested.  A truly detached ISSA*, seems to me, at this point at least, is an oxymoron.”  (Antierra monologue speaking of her teachings on detachment while on her home world of Altaria – Antierra Manifesto)

Once the basics of one Earthian incarnation have been experienced – surviving, satisfying desires, experimenting with physical senses, what’s left but death, or entering upon a quest for the greater meaning of Life as a self aware being? 

If one chooses “death” which to me means going on repeating experiences pointlessly, then that’s that.  If one chooses the quest, there has to be a sure way to enter into that which guarantees one will not fall back into such silly behaviour as being a sports fan, chasing the opposite gender for sexual gratification, “making” money, hating, fighting, killing then dying to find out it was all a chimera.

Seems to me the way to freedom is opened through detachment.  What keeps us enslaved to the wheel of the System is an array of attachments each one justifying and strengthening the other. It behooves us therefore to relinquish all our attachments to the things this world offers more as bait than as satisfaction (since none ever completely satisfy, and that should be a very broad hint). 

OK, so I want to learn the meaning of Life, not just the meaning (if there be any) of one little incarnation on this little world but the meaning of Life as expressed through an infinite and timeless cosmos: that meaning! Only a free being can ever hope to enter into such a quest.  Attachments are all those things, big and small, that translate as chains, shackles, stanchions, locks, doors, walls, perimeters, limits that take one to termination.  In this situation, death becomes the final attachment. 

Before one tackles the difficult concept of death, one should consider the pattern of lesser attachments that enslave us to our body and its world and how we are connected to the pattern.  As long as a single attachment remains unexplored and connected, death remains the final enigma. Yet unless one can know all about death, even if the words to describe this certainty do not exist, the quest for Life remains closed.  Death was invented to create the impression that there is no such thing as “Life” as an infinite concept; that “Life” had been conquered. All attachments are lies and death is the final and greatest lie of all when living under attachments.

How then does one person achieve a place of total detachment?  As said above, it isn’t easy.  To my heroine (granted she is under extreme stress in that part of the story) it seems impossible.  But nothing is impossible! Impossible is just another attachment!

Detachment, once decided upon, comes through self empowerment.  All my choices are mine and I take full responsibility for the results.  Sure, there will remain many little itches of attachments, like cold sniffles or skin blemishes, but my immune system is self empowerment and that is how I heal myself, as much and as many times as it takes.  I learn not to repeat stupid or pointless moves. I learn to be satisfied with an experience that I know will not improve the more I do it. 

Prayers will not be answered with greater alacrity or better overall results.  Hockey games won’t improve. TV won’t demonstrate a higher level of intelligence. Cigarettes or booze won’t taste better. Crossing borders won’t become easier or safer and sex… well I think we all know the answer to that one.

I learn not to waste my time on the treadmill or the merry-go-round and I learn to use that salvaged time to better my understanding.  If I have any problem on how to direct this new understanding, I cradle it within compassion thus guaranteeing a successful continuation to the quest I am on.

Yes Antierra, it is possible to become totally detached.  You have to learn to take the broader view of the concept.    

*ISSA: acronym for intelligent, sentient, self aware