WHY APHORISMS and homilies?

Simple. Because they are the most durable form of written word, and because they are divine. They endure precisely because they are divine; while all that is most worldly in prose may be known by its inherent perishability. Some writers have the modest -- no, let us say 'the puny' -- ambition of being read only that day, or the next day. Some want to be read in a year, or five, or fifty years. They call that success. Others anticipate readers one hundred or even a thousand years hence. Now that, to them, is something. I do not blush to state my desire to be read at least five thousand years from now. I want to be relevant then, as now. Thoreau says, "Read not the times, read the eternities," and the adage may as well be converted to advise the writer as well as the reader: "Write the eternities." Is it really an absurd, a megalomaniacal ambition, to write for the ages, -- and for the immortals? Goethe says, I think, that a man who anticipates less than fifty-thousand readers should not bother to write (or bother the printers to print). I say the same thing, not about the number of readers, but the number of years, and I think it would be arrogant to write, to bother, with anything smaller in mind.

WITH RESPECT TO SERIAL KILLERS,

AND THE MOST DEPRAVED CRIMINALS AMONG US:

If the wealthiest people in the world were not presently bleeding our economies dry, we'd absolutely have more than enough resources to house and rehabilitate these poor souls.

The very least we can do is TRY to expose them to spiritual principles, to teach them enlightening practices, such as yoga and deep meditation, and to provide the love and compassion which they so sorely lack (and the lack of which, no doubt, resulted in their moral sickness).

How can we call ourselves Christians -- or conscious human beings -- unless we endeavor to respond to a lack of love with a fullness of love? To be a Christian means to consider wickedness as illness, and Christ as the righteous physician, in whom there is no condemnation; but only mercy, pity, and the most awesome compassion.

Sure, to the broken-hearted, -- that is, to the cynical -- this must all sound absurdly idealistic. Certainly, the worst criminals would be the very first to scoff at such a program. Nevertheless, it remains a profound truth, that it is easy to love those who love us, while the hardest to love are the ones who require the most love. Moreover, that we only truly show ourselves to be loving beings when we respond to "the least" among us with compassion.

If I were acquainted with the victims of a horrific crime, I suppose, I might be singing a very different tune; crying, "Good riddance!" when these so-called monsters meet with an unhappy end. Luckily, my distance from the crimes allows me to preserve a more objective viewpoint, and to see them, not as monsters, but as invalids. Still, even then, I do not think I could ever be satisfied with mere revenge. I am only really gratified by seeing these people brought to repentance and converted in their hearts.

I have too much faith to give up on even the most hardened of sinners. We all fall miserably short of the infinite goodness of God, yet, we are all His blessed children; however lost, however broken and twisted by error and circumstance. I cannot help but believe that all things are possible with God, and that the same passions which lead a person to commit horrors may be transformed, by His grace, into equally powerful forces for good.

Saint Paul was the most ardent persecutor of Christians, yet he became the most ardent proponent of Christian love. Who among us is not humbled, softened, and enlightened by that most glorious sign of God's grace?

Submission To The Present Moment

Abandonment to Divine Providence, or submission to the present moment, which is our utter dependence upon the will of God, is not expectantly to await, in idleness (which turns to sloth), the falling of graces from heaven, -- but, cheerfully, to receive them; for they are always upon us.

The holy impulse is a grace, but so also is the space which precedes and follows closely upon it. True patience, then, is not waiting for some particular occurrence, but attentively perceiving the divine action in all occurrences; unconditionally and without distinction.

God is known by His absence as surely as He is known by His presence; so that what we call His absence is only the semblance of His absence, and a subtler suggestion of His presence. Our longing to receive Him is but a more mysterious, an indirect, form of our acknowledgment of Him; and, so, another way of receiving Him.

Curiously, when He appears not to act, it must be that His will is already accomplished.

Truly, if we look for Him in every circumstance, we cannot fail to discover Him; but, if we attempt, by our own cleverness, to anticipate the conditions of His coming, we will not find Him in the conditions by which He presently imparts Himself.

The Lord is always manifesting Himself in accordance with the most perfect spiritual laws. Our place is simply to recognize this miracle, and thereby give place to Him.

Because that is His will for us, His will is therefore most completely realized and accomplished, not in the various shapes by which it outwardly gives itself, but, in the uniform receptivity which welcomes and makes way for them, regardless of their differing appearances.

The Ubiquitous Blessing

bless softly the mystery

lest madness explodes into
unnumbered, phantom gesticulations

the bile of a thousand miscarried dreams
the weapons, the lightning, the wars

and many outraged angels felled
silently descend, drifting
as bodies into chasms

whilst snarling devils perch
licking their long tails
like arrowfeathers
on the uppermost peaks

and limbs spurt blood, sputtering tendons
white ribbons of undone muscles
and flesh flutter ghost-like
around marble bones

bless softly
the pale green sloshing
of mighty ship-sides
as they pitch and groan
turning their faces to the dark

bless

the tanned loaves

and salted meats

they carry

and bless cities
silhouetted on the horizon
like the ocean's diadem

bless
the languoring elephant
the hissing leopard
the fierce dragon perfection

the terrible birds of prey
their harsh, stark eyes
and talons flashing
like struck flint

bless
the shriek of whales
tremendous eyeballs surfacing
but lost in inhospitable depths

bless coins
cascading flakes of gold
purple, blue and bronze

taut hands with garish rings
hemming soft, bare, puckered throats

magenta-hued silks that tarry
over crevices and curves

bless
pleasures that cloy
and slink as shadows
on the steep walls of sleep

bless branches
drooping ejaculate pearls
and lush, many-colored fruits

sapphire and gold flames
stretching into the sky
dissolving in traces of spark

apes stamping their feet and staring
with violent, black, diaphanous eyes

superabundant serpents
vomited from cavernous guilt

eagles feasting indifferently
on violet pigeon breasts

bless
the tradewinds culminating
the rough basalt
and variegated light

the slow sap pressing forth
from shuddering oaks

the grapes,
translucent, clustered,
balanced on silver shields

wine streaming down
the mountain god's beard

Shiva's trident in the side of Christ

bless
and marvel
at wild tangents of dance

souls in the aviary of light
that squawk and trill
their mysteries

resinous souls
attracting ideas like flies
that circle and stick

bless
lepers, eunuchs, chandalas
corpses rotting in the summer heat

virgins grouped in placid grottoes
touching powder-blue hyacinths
with dainty hands

faeries emerging
from tangled horse manes
and dwarves punctuating cliff-sides
like sentries

wild-eyed magicians
summoning lightning
and dragons
for no other reason

bless
clouds breaking in the sky
fish sunk into the sand

the panting hart
the wild, tireless Zeus

the earth sending groans
and rocks with their vacant plaints

the waters that tremble, uncertain,
and recede into the vacuum of space

the planet that quakes and keels
and suddenly slips into the sun

bless
vehement streams of light and lust
wrangling in a wilderness of choice

great mountains of sand
encapsulating secrets

and withering like sunsets

the scarab, the mantis, the mite

coquettish nymphs
charming bewildered saints
and stupefied brutes

rose-petals tumbling after
like hurried attendants

bless fervent visions
that rape the mind

dizzy resolution
and stubborn astonishment

undisdained incense
of simple devotion

red-faced charity

condescending to ascend

babe that wails in the breast
whom no mortal mother can coax

the canticles of Providence
and Submission

bless all of these

bless everything

and be at peace with all

Living Flames

Humility is not an attitude towards oneself.

It is thru the dual state that one reaches the non-dual state,
and there learns to embrace the dual, for the sake of all beings.

If the way to God were from body to spirit,
then body were mere hindrance, and godliness selfish;
but the journey from darkness to light is only half of the way,
for light is gathered so that it might be carried into darkness.

As the lower is transcended in approaching what is higher,
so, also, the higher is transcended in approaching what is lower.

One does not enter into the presence of the King
without receiving a missal for the instruction of all subjects.

We are not truly free until we wholeheartedly desire our chains.

Words strain to uphold a spirit,
and to secure that in the mind,
which silence would let drop into the heart.

The mind in prayer should hover, ever-so-gently,
like a honeybee, over the flower of the heart,
patiently drawing sweet nectar therefrom.

There is no single "enlightenment",
crushingly prosaic or adorned with all novelty,
but there are saints endowed, respectively,
with various charisms; each privy to different lights.

There are realms of unspeakable bliss,
populated with angelic hosts and living lights.
They are not abstract, or metaphorical,
but ordinary, in their own way.

Affliction is natural to lovers in this world,
as steam to hot coals dropped in water.

Every soul in this world is heroic
and worthy of our utmost compassion.

It's always best to forgive a man before apologizing to him.

If you must speak, become bibles;
modern testaments; new scriptures!

Men curse the clarion call, and consecrate the lullaby.

Great souls draw lines in the sand; small ones bury their heads in it.

A flatterer is a pusher of a most addictive and destructive drug;
nothing is so much to be lamented as to be content with one's estate.

However exalted, however great,
it is mediocrity to rest --
while life inflames the breast!

The Lord, in His wisdom,
has coupled loftiness with humility,
and celebrity with servitude.

Actions may serve a particular good,
and words commend a general goodness,
but silence responds to the will of God.

A man may stumble and still progress; no pilgrim ascends like a ghost, gliding over rocks and streams; but lurches, lunges, leaps, and leans upon his staff; seeming the most compromised when scaling the steepest heights.

When anger overtakes you, do not snatch at consolations, anxious for a cheaply gotten peace. First, be humbled by contrition. Confess your double-will. Lament that you hold to anger still, and cannot put it out of you, however much your higher nature tells you to, and however much you would like to want to do. It must repulse you. Only then will you relinquish it, and peace will come upon you as though unbidden.

To become aware of sin in oneself is almost to uproot it.

The soul is buried, as it were, in a tomb of clay,
and must be dug out, for the purposes of resurrection.

All the strength of my life, to be good in this moment.

We seek knowledge, we seek the concrete, not realizing that what is acquired by the mind must serve as heavy blocks, weighing us down, and preventing our ascent towards the wisdom of the Highest. How much more willingly ought we to seek -- nay, to confess -- a humble ignorance; the limitless unknowing of a child? In this ignorance is lightness, spaciousness, and openness to the leadings of Divine Suggestion. Truly, all our knowledge, or all that appears to us as knowledge, is but a reflection of a reflection of reflection of all that we do not know. The plans we fashion, and the paths we imagine for ourselves, can never begin to compare to the blueprints which God has laid out for the development of our souls. We had better forget these anxious attempts at directing our course, and place our utmost trust in the will of the Father, who alone knows what is best, and how to lead.

The prayers we offer on our own behalf are never so effective,
and never so beneficial to ourselves, as the prayers we offer for others.

The Prodigal Atheist

There is not, nor has there ever been, an authentic rejection of God. If we imagine that we, or anyone else, has denied God (or the existence of God), we deal not in realities, but in fictions. The simple fact of the matter is that God is nothing if not the deepest, most undeniable, indivisible part of ourselves. How can we deny or reject God, when the very thing within us which denies and rejects is God? All we can deny, all we can reject, is what we are not. We can push away only what is ancillary, superficial, and superfluous in ourselves. All our efforts to rid ourselves of God, or of the notions of God which we find unsatisfactory, can only draw us closer to the actual reality of God.

Cynicism is only a fortress against those easy answers and flimsy explanations which do not awaken the most authentic, emotional confirmation we seek. It is a symbol and, at the same time, a direct expression of our integrity; our diligence and honesty in seeking answers which do not glance, but strike to the true core of the matter. Bitterness, too, is only the most beautiful impatience with what does not touch upon the ultimate crux of our questioning and confusion. It is merely a confirmation that the seeking within us is genuine. The doubts, which gather like storm clouds, darkening the skies of our soul, convey that part of ourselves which yearns desperately to experience the flood of a substantial cleansing.

It is in our defiance that we approach submission. Only in the fiercest moments of rebellion can we begin to discover the essence of true obedience. Having put away all childish consolations, and cast beneath us all those half-hearted half-truths and partial experiences which do not resonate from the very marrow of our most secret hearts, we may come, by aching, tentative steps, to encounter the genuine mystery of God. We must first possess ourselves entirely, and stand upon the uppermost summit of ourselves, before we can truly sacrifice ourselves in a wholehearted leap of faith.

What we receive from another is not religion. Nobody can give us religion. We must take it. And we must lack it before we can take it. We must shed and renounce every creed which seeks a foothold in our souls, in order to plant our feet firmly in the soil of our own holy ground. This, the atheist is in a unique position to accomplish. But all those who believe in a God who has been given, and not found, claimed in the depths of the most personal and defiant search, stumble blindly in a fog of half-faith. They are furthest from the Kingdom who believe they have found it. They merely rest complacent in some byway, some wild grotto of the soul, while imagining themselves secure within the courtyards of the King. They do not so much as journey thither.

In our loneliness, we affirm the true depth of the love we seek. In isolation, we cry out for an intimacy beyond expressions. Shamefaced, we cover our iniquities, and search out a more authentic countenance. We are the lowest form of pretenders, if we claim to know the Unknowable, or to find the Source which inspires our seeking. In humility, we should seat ourselves at the foot of the atheist, to learn what God is; for it is the one who rejects Him who embraces Him most surely. The one who claims not to know Him, not to believe in Him, not to understand what is said of Him -- is truly the one who approaches. Modesty hides from him the religion which he alone possesses in earnest. But if he were to feel it in his pocket, to hold it up, and offer it to public view, how quickly it would tarnish and turn from gold into tin. It is in his assertion of godlessness that he preserves his innocence, and his God.

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The only problem with seeing too much is that it makes you insane.
~ Phaedrus

Astrology And Free Will

Astra inclinant, non necessitant.
(The stars incline, they do not compel.)

This ancient astrological dictum ought to be understood in accordance with the Hermetic tradition which gave rise to it. The stars, properly interpreted, are not "out there", but "in here". They are the constellations of our own character and temperament, to which they merely correspond. In the strictest terms, they neither incline nor compel, any more than the hands of a clock incline or compel the procession of time.

Always, in the study of astrological factors, we must bear in mind the unknown, or ungiven factor; which is the individual freedom of the person to whom they bear only partial witness. No rumination on what has gone before, however much it penetrates into the nuances of particular instances or expands to encompass the more general principles, can account for the miracle of the present moment. The merest atoms and the vastest galaxies are phantom distractions, if they do not come to a point, and discover their ultimate terminus, in you. What is matters less than what is recognized, and the will is only truly free the instant it is claimed.

The image reflected in a mirror can tell you something of the state of your health, but it can never tell you as much as you can tell yourself, with the choices you make in response to what the image reveals. The first step is to walk away from the mirror, and to claim your life as your own; not to dwell upon the image any longer than is needed to provoke an authentic, personal response.

All the fateful accidents of environment, of parentage, biology, and breeding must bow the knee to the sovereign will. The world cannot anticipate, -- it can neither explain nor can it contain, -- the mysterious capriciousness of that spirit which inflames it. All these things, no doubt, come to bear upon a man, as the karmic substance which surrounds and encumbers his free spirit. Yet, no path, however deeply cut into the wood, can hold back the sword of an individual determined to carve a new way. The instant he has recognized and reclaimed his power, he is invincible; free for any pursuit he resolutely settles upon. He is the undetermined factor. He is yourself, in this instant; in this eternal moment; this lightning flash, which no clock can track.

Have you been blinded in the darkest depths?
You will be blinded in the light, as well!
Look around you now.