ARCHITEXTU(R)AL INFRASTRUCTION
Missive #31 - Transcribed Poetic Dictation
[Wherever you are is the entry point, says Kabir. “Be quiet in your mind, quiet in your senses, and also quiet in your body. Then, when all these are quiet, don’t do anything. In that state truth will reveal itself to you.” —Kabir | And yet, the entry point in that ‘wherever-we-are’ is rarely what we think it is. This missive sent me into a new spiral of timing agony, thinking—as I so often treacherously do—that I knew what timing was necessary for its delivery. Of course, the way of the world has different ideas. The best key I have right now for recognizing improper timing is the difficulty of recording my recitations. Each day I tried to record this missive, and each time some great interruption, some mysterious coughing, some vast switching up of words would occur. I would try again, and again. I became frustrated, and then angry. I paced back and forth, and walked around the house. I lit a candle, burned some cedar, slowed my racing heart. Alas, there was no cure but time. Tonight, after assembling a bed in celebration-divination of the year ahead, I sat down again to record a recitation. As I thought might happen, I read through the entire piece flawlessly. One read-through, without interruption, without frustration. Ahhh… how nice! How nice when time and timing align, and behave accordingly. Kairos. The full satisfaction and satiation of accomplishing the right thing at the right time. Heavenly bliss. And so, I offer this little blessing to you all, as you celebrate, as you grieve, as you mourn, as you sit still, or silent, or in raucous company. However you might be, wherever you are. I am with you in all of it. 2023 was an onerous, ominous year, with no shortage of tears, of weight and levity and glory. 2024 is my wedding year, the year of the total solar eclipse which crosses the path of the 2017 eclipse. X marks the spot! May it be a good one. The best one yet. With love, always—and joy~ ] Received 12/28/2023 | ~5-6:30pm
Listen to the Recitation:
ARCHITEXTU(R)AL INFRASTRUCTION
The key word is Evolution |
Undines, Sylphs, Gnomes, and Salamanders
Water, Air, Earth, and Fire spirits all
Instruction Destruction Archistructionals
Destructing Instructing Archestrictives
I am wired for the weird and it's about to get
Much weirder soon. Paradigmatic idiomatic
Shifts in serials and cereals
Sour Bitter Sweet Pungent Salty
Wheat BrownRice Millet WhiteRice Beans
Wheat Barley Oats Rye Spelt
Soybeans Wheat ProsoMillet FoxtailMillet Rice
Liver Heart Spleen Lungs Kidneys
Five farmed crops from supernatural sources
The Five Grains are synechdocally All Grains
5 grains of gold in an amalgam of Mercury
120 tonic noble herbs
120 human middle herbs
125 toxic medicinal low herbs
The peaches of the immortals are low, and
The Low is the Highest, most noble, like Rhubarb;
Sesame, Barley, Oats, Peas, and Hemp, Sorghum;
Flowering lotus, mallow, herons, scrolled leaves,
and magical fungi of eternity. Elixir of Reishi
and Maitake, Hen of the Woods and the luscious
red Toadstool Amanita of Carpathia, seat of the fae
Sea of red lights, serpentine, seminal. Attention
Pay attention. High definition attention, AD-HD
We are entering the high definition period of AD,
Anno Domini HD. Plug in and sit down, insettled
And in-settling, circumambulating lingam stupas
Stupifying stalactites of earthen time, eurekas
Frozen in pace, keeping pace with echelons and
Aions, aimed Artemis with bowstring elongated
Elated aims from the centaur's back, capacious
And capitulating. These infrastructions are
To be received, irrationally, and lovingly. The dose
Is no longer to be rationed out, dispersed
In queues to wanting hands. It is en force
And without compromise. Receive.
The Goddess, embarrassed, turns Actaeon to stag
Who is then devoured by his own dogs, unnoticing;
Athena and Hestia keep her virginity in company
Kourotrophic, protectress of the innocent young;
Protection is not always the preservation of life
Nor is it always noble, nor gracious, nor patient.
Take careful aim and fire through twelve axeheads
The bow of Shiva, destiny of Rama
Who strides like a tiger, broad shouldered
With powerful long arms, hands strong as diamonds
Skin sky blue like Vishnu, who too is a part of him.
Heroic figures are the seed
Of divine psychic stew and story. Shiva's indignation
Could only be soothed by singing hymns
In praise of him. And so great Shiva lays down
His mighty bow, given now to the King of Mithila
The ancestor of King Janaka, who challenged
Rama to string the unstringable bow.
Many before him had tried to pull this blade
And all had failed, until lotus-eyed Rama
Arrived before the eight-wheeled chest covered
With garlands, mightily perfumed holder of Shiva's
Bow. Many men were required to roll it out
While musicians sang and women danced.
Casually Rama strolls to the open chest and lifts
The bow, light as a feather reed, the room silent
As he begins to bend the bow down, propped
By his foot, as if to string it. And so the bow bends
Until, with a crack as loud as thunder, the bow breaks!
And the whole palace and pavilions trembled
And the people trembled, and hid, and fainted,
Save the King, and Viśvāmitra, and Lakṣmaṇa
And Rama himself, who all were unfazed, unflinching.
After the earth ceased in its shaking, the heavens
No longer echoing the awful feat in all directions,
The chariots were sent out racing and word with them
Of a marriage, the fated joining of Sita and Rama.
Rich treasures were freely exchanged, the streets
Filled with sweet song, charmingly sung, tears
Flowing freely alongside cheers of ecstasy, of evolution
As the mighty bow which could, with one arrow,
Destruct a city, was now destroyed by semi-human
Hands, though blue and blessed with Vishnu.
Celestial drums sound from on high and
Blossoms rain down too, pink and orange and gold
Mingling and dancing with the music of every
Wedding band. The land is encircled, bound up
In binding contract as myth writes itself in epic
Hues, purple robes and red and celadon and
Cerulean and fiery orange, fuchsia, crimson
Every bright and charged color, fully charged,
Ready to release, to debut, into the world of
Works which shall define the labors and loves
Of a whole people who come "after" them.
The people are made with them, written by them,
Married as them. From the first wedding bells
To the last leap into the fires, fully immolated
With Her, her love, her grace, her trust, her faith;
The Goddess did not come to play. She came to
Win. And she has already won. The Goddess and
God are One. GD.S.X. The Third transforms
And transcends. The Transcension is well underway
And already complete, and almost done, with many
Years to go yet. Build the temple. Lay your holy deed
Brick seeds. Cement them with the mortar of your
Dew, shining effervescence of a soul's labors
Mana radiating stalactitial, like a macrophage
Giving through consuming; intaking, transgressing,
Eliminating what must be wiped away, cleared
Out of the way of what is here now, this newold
Way being remembered through our forgetting
States falling and collapsing, others renewing
States of being, nation states, states of mind
Clearing, 9-rayed heavenly spheres, stars emitting
Hot plasma radiation in flares, corrupting
Structures and constructions hurtling through space
Through the empty voids between our intermingling
Cells, endocychotic as they evolve, integrating
New information as it comes in, releasing old ways
And emerging in unexpected forms and formats,
Formaterials for the unfolding festival of delights
Carnal and up for review, always looking forward
The only law right now is evolution.
When something is picked up, it cannot be put back down,
Only placed. Everything in its place. Nothing can be
Out of it. Their placement is all around them, and
Unseen, invisible, an infinite veil, a corridor of doors
All swung wide open to let the air move, to reveal
More doors, shut, many manies of them behind each
Waiting too to be opened, in a string of opening
Slamming swinging shutting down the computer,
The phone screen going black and blue, error
Messages playing across the screen, children
In the playground, laughing and swinging, monkeys
Scratching themselves and smiling, laughing what
Sounds like shrieking, howling, of wolves in the sloping
Forested hills at the foot of mountains, Zalmoxian
Cthonic deities who dwell in holy mountains
With faint and mysterious links to Pythagoras, to
The Great Mysteries which surrounded and circluded
The notorious fear of death, until it became a glory,
A praise of death, of dying, as the caterpillar to
The butterfly, as viewed by those outside and looking
In, we are looking in, facing inward, into the transformation
Of the world we have known and loved, loathed
As it writhes and wriggles and lingers and lulls
In the various states which precede and proceed from
One great mystery, of time, of temporarity, of material
Impermanence. Clutching unclutching, clasping
Unclasping the chest of our divine ancestors,
Rama and Houji and Shennong and Artemis and
Even low, perverted Actaeon, devoured by his own
Hunting dogs. We too shall be devoured by our hunting
Dogs before long. And thank goodness for it! For the low
Is the most noble, the most high, and the perversion
Of what we have come to know as truth must too
Occur in time, and out of it. The Great unstringable
Mighty Bow of Shiva shall bend and break, and the
Earth shall shake, and the heavens echo the sound
And this all shall then go silent, and the Millet
Shall rain from above, and its seeds shall be planted
At the foot of peach trees, in immortal gardens, to be
Grown, to be harvested, to feed an entire people
A nation of musicians and farmers and dancers
Throwing gold like grains of rice, over the heads
Of every semi-human divinity born being in and through
Us, our labors, our humble and rustic efforts
To put on the greatest marriage feast, the greatest
Dance party, in honor of the one holy couple, the one
Sacred union, which itself is nothing but a ritual
Remembrance of oneness, of the true meaning
Of differentiation, of creation, of consumption,
Of coming together and growing apart.
Come now, take my hand, and join the rest of us
In this great wedding game;
An alchemical f(e)ast,
And oikoumenikal de~light.
High Def Anno Domini, yes please.
and inspired to finally read the Ramayana.