Verbalized, It Becomes an Ethical Problem (Warrior Poet Mental Yoga 236)

“Words, words, words.” And what’s in a word? Answer: corpses, millions of corpses. And the moral of that is, Keep Your Trap Shut; or if you must open it, never take what comes out of it too seriously. Katy kept our traps firmly shut. She had the instinctive wisdom that taboos the four-letter words (and a fortiori the scientific polysyllables), while tacitly taking for granted the daily and nightly four-letter acts to which they refer. In silence, an act is an act is an act. Verbalized and discussed, it becomes an ethical problem, a casus belli, the source of a neurosis.

The Genius & The Goddess

Aldous Huxley          1955

Cribb Comment: Keeping within the context of the entire novel, it appears that Huxley is illustrating the difficulty of resolving and unifying the antagonistic paradox he feels exists between spiritual grace (verbally expressed awareness and contemplation) and animal grace (instinctual physical behavior) in a union between two souls that each originate out of opposite ends of this spectrum. Elsewhere in the novel, he appears to suggest that “human grace” is also a part of this dynamic and that the complete spectrum must be incorporated together in unison if an individual is to attain the highest level of awareness and transcendence possible in our existence.

Cribb          2018

No Hell (Warrior Poet Mental Yoga 218)

Mama said the stars are the universe’s eyes.
I can feel them watching over me most of the time.
We grew up believing we could learn how to fly.
We came from the earth, but we belong to the sky.
I saw your soul without the skin attached,
and you’ve got the guts of a coyote pack.
We’ve been kissed, we’ve been cut, but we do what needs the doing.
We’re just rainbows dreaming we are human.
Please excuse the lights shooting out of my head.
I keep them in a cage, but they come out when they see a friend (you must be a friend).
You’re never really gonna have control of it all,
so you best get cool with where your chips gonna fall.
We are the sun and mother’s milk and cuss words and poetry.

There’s no use in running, unless you run like heck.
The best things we’ve learned, we learned from the wreck.
Jesus coming back as a woman this time,
handing out hugs in the clinic line.
Someone tell the devil we don’t need no hell.
We’re all pretty good at beating up ourselves.

As kids we believed that the angels talked.
Everything is magic, til you think it’s not.
It’s easy to be thankful for the things you’ve got.
It takes guts to give thanks for the things you’ve lost
We grew up believing good wins over bad,
So you gave away your heart but the wolves attacked.
(But then a bigger heart grew back)
Please excuse the words coming out of my mouth,
I’m a happy man, but there are some things I need to get out…

There’s no use in running, unless you run like heck.
The best things we’ve learned, we learned from the wreck.
Jesus coming back as a woman this time,
handing out hugs in the clinic line.
Someone tell the devil we don’t need no hell.
We’re all pretty good at beating up ourselves.

Cloud Cult – Lyrics*

*You should check out the song if you are not familiar with it.

Looking in the Light (Warrior Poet Mental Yoga 192)

One night some of Nasruddin’s friends came upon him crawling around on his hands and knees searching for something beneath a lamppost. When they asked him what he was looking for, he told them that he had lost the key to his house. They all got down to help him look, but without any success. Finally, one of them asked Nasruddin where exactly he had lost the key. Nasruddin replied, “In the house.”

“Then why,” his friends asked, “are you looking under the lamppost?”

Nasruddin replied, “Because there’s more light here.”

Seeking the Heart of Wisdom: The Path of Insight Meditation

Goldstein and Kornfield          1987

Visceral Empathy (Warrior Poet Mental Yoga 172)

If

your exuberant empathy

for one

is

guarded

by

vehement anger and resentment

towards another,

you are likely

hypnotizing yourself

into believing

that you are

much more

caring,

understanding,

and

loving,

than you truly happen

to

viscerally be;

you are drawing

 a line

in the sand

 with

your empathy

 where no line

should exist.

To limit

empathy

is to fake

such a grace

or

taint it with darkness

and

turn all of its light

into

a murky bastardized force

of

schizophrenic relativity and antithesis.

In

the highest spiritual elevation,

it

is

an

all or nothing

state

of

consciousness and being.

Cribb

2017

Such Inertia (Warrior Poet Mental Yoga 166)

Existence

is only a dance

of

patterns (pattern recognition) and drive.

This

tempo and melody

allow for

the identification of

truth

and the birth

of

contemplation, dedication, integrity,

and

ultimately

of

love.

It is about

primordial energy

taking structured forms

of independence

which then

seek interconnectivity

with other independent forms

and

express their desire

through the intensity and the tenacity

of

their focus.

It is the ebb and flow of energy and intensity,

of patterns and drive,

of separation and union,

and the appreciation of such inertia.

Chaos

ushered forever forth

by

its constant distractive and nullifying consumption

on the aegis

of

its own godforsaken tentacles

of apathy and fear,

swirls endlessly in motion as well,

but only

in the stagnant agitation of entropy,

in the refusal

to

acknowledge and actualize

meaningful

inertia.

The negation of existence

is thus fundamentally

a static acquiescence

of isolating denial and of plausible delusion

regarding the remainder of the universe

which is not engaged.

The agitation of entropy

is

only

a dark and woefully cracked mirror

to the meaningful inertia

of focus,

but lost souls

will often be charmed and bedazzled

by its excitable and nervous oscillations,

drawn and lured closer

to that

which was before beginning

rather than towards

that which is meant to become.

Existence is meant to move forward.

We are meant to become.

That becoming occurs

via

a

dance

of

patterns and drive.

Cribb

2017

Warrior Poet Mental Yoga 52

“At the point when you agree to take on death, you gain an extraordinary capacity. A special power, you could call it. Perceiving the colors that people emit is merely one function of that power, but at the root of it all is an ability to expand your consciousness. You’re able to push open what Aldous Huxley (Warrior Poet Saint, in my mind – Cribb comment) calls the ‘doors of perception.’ Your perception becomes pure and unadulterated. Everything around you becomes clear, like fog lifting. You have an omniscient view of the world and see things you’ve never seen before.”

“Is your performance the other day a result of that ability?”

Midorikawa gave a short shake of the head. “No, that was just what I’ve always been capable of. I’ve played like that for years. Perception is complete in and of itself; it doesn’t reveal itself in an outward, concrete manifestation. There are no tangible benefits to it either. It’s not easy to explain in words. You have to experience it to understand. One thing I can say, though, is that once you see that true sight with your own eyes, the world you’ve lived in up till now will look flat and insipid. There’s no logic or illogic in that scene. No good or evil. Everything is merged into one. And you are one part of that merging. You leave the boundary of your physical body behind to become a metaphysical being. You become intuition. It’s at once a wonderful sensation and a hopeless one, because, almost at the last minute, you realize how shallow and superficial your life has been. And you shudder at the fact that up to that point you’ve been able to stand such a life.”

“And you think it’s worth experiencing this sensation, even if it means taking on death? And you only have it for a little while?”

Midorikawa nodded. “Absolutely. It’s that valuable. I guarantee it.”

Colorless Tsukuru Tazaki and his Years of Pilgrimage

Haruki Murakami          2014