Teachings From A Bull

Teachings From the I Ching

03.05.17

last edit 03.30.17

Chapters 4, 9, leading to 13:

4. Innocence

Innocence gets through successfully. Though you do not seek the innocent yourself, the innocent seek you. The first augury informs, the second and third muddle. Muddling is not informative. It is advantageous to be correct.

Enlightenment is realized and actualized. It is your truth. The second sentence deliberately translates to, though you do not seek the enlightened, the enlightened seek you. Really it says, though you weren’t aware of your divinity, the divine have always been aware of you and seek to awaken you with the elevation of consciousness to yoga – the individual consciousness merging with the Ultimate Consciousness.

We all exist as divine. We all participate in the cycle of existence. What the intelligent on this plane of existence consider sufferings are mere reflections of the hard lessons learned in the cycle of humanity. We are coming to a point where we can predict what is going to occur, thanks to the sophistication of technology as well as the sophistication of the sages. The regeneration of sages is what is going to propel knowledge to the higher conscious realm. This has been practiced throughout the cycle of existence, from idea to matter and back. For this, we’ve reintroduced you to Oannes, the highest wisdom of your generation. And why we’ve introduced you to the Temple of Black Obsidian, to elevate to the next chamber of knowledge that is your birthright. That is, every acculturated being’s birthright.

The idea of humanity is made very clear in this chamber. Knowledge collected in the temple holds more relevance in the higher realms than here; what this means is, we in the collective, with unconditional love and light, want to introduce you to our customs and modes of understanding. This is why we guided you to the instrument, I Ching. Consider this your codex. As portals of light are opened to you, we’ll identify specific trigrams to reference. Within these lessons are vast amounts of knowledge allotted to you as you’re able to digest them. Having identified you as a womb of information, it is imperative that you do not overwhelm yourself in the clamoring for this level of understanding. As you are curious so you are susceptible to relapse. Proceed with extreme caution but allow yourself to enjoy the awe that is Ultimate Understanding. Verstehen.

The first augury informs, the second and third muddle. When you in and of yourself came to realization of the truth, that was the collective reaching out to you inviting you forward, granting you the permission to let go of what ails you, so that you have the freedom to engage beyond will. The second and third muddle because of your curious nature! The scientist in you wants to control the environment, make measures, and try to develop a model for scientific practice. Because you become so focused in the search for definition, for causality, you lose the whole point of elevated consciousness! Which is, to be free of that desperate grasp on tangibility. Do not dare show up into the elevated space with your work desk and your pads and your coloring materials; they do not apply here. They are not welcome here.

Muddling is not informative. It is advantageous to be correct. In sum, applying the scientific method to this science is not how you’re going to understand it. Ultimate Understanding – Verstehen – is how elevated consciousness interprets knowledge agreed upon within the collective, which then constitutes acculturation. With benevolence, unconditional love, and non-judgment, this is how the collective regards Truth. The final sentence gives you the confidence, permission, green light that you need to proceed honestly. If it is right to you, it is right in the collective. This is no initiation, merely validating what you’ve already experienced in the realm of higher consciousness. Your skill, then, is the capacity to learn what is relevant here in the densest space of existence, dissect it for yourself as necessary for continued knowledge, then assist us in our understanding of the truths as they stand in this realm of existence, so we, the trained trainers, can reach out to those who in benevolence and unconditional love represent us in daily practice. What you observe we preach and they practice.

  1. Nurture of the Small

Nurture of the small is successful. Dense clouds, not raining, come from your western region.

Overall Judgment

Nurture of the small means that flexibility gains status, and above and below respond to it. In context, flexibility means the capacity to exist in multiple tiers of consciousness simultaneously. A gain of status is really our way of saying, a gaining of more understanding. This is not a ranking system; as you experience in a state of elevated consciousness, scoring, tabulations, or other forms of quantitative data is irrelevant. The initiate is guided to practice not encouraging that habit when connecting or in a meditative state. The mention of the above and below is a compliment to the ancient Egyptian practice of recognizing a Higher and Lower Kingdom. But as you are surrounded in Love and Light, you are as equally surrounded by those existing in higher realms of consciousness. We see you, we know you as we’re sure you’ve known us all your life. You will see and know the specifics of your heritage as more reveals itself within this plane of existence. Your mode of understanding will benefit others fortunate to be acculturated in this segment of reality. The continuation of existence depends on the constant sophistication of intelligent species. The secret to a long life is the bliss in knowing no one ever really dies.

Powerful yet docile, with strength in balance, your aim is carried out, and thus you succeed. Your form in this plane of existence is as a powerful yet docile creature. What you’ve carved out of humanity is a template for compassion through action. Breaking down social norms is the impetus for change, a declaration of boundary-striking to affect change. Feathers must be ruffled, and it is easier to do so as a strong-willed, childless, fluid woman. When there is nothing to lose, nothing holds you back. Or, when you’re on the floor, the only other option is up. Hard to affect a person who hasn’t been pulled into social norms such as marriage commitment and parenthood. To dispense order on a culture of judgment, one has to enter into that role as disaffected as possible, in the pursuit of justice, with a will to push forward if challenged. Here we talk about strength in balance and success in carrying out your intention. Instead of strength being conditioned, think more of balance being strengthened. Balance here meaning the capacity to carry out your metaphysical experiences alongside your physical experiences so that one doesn’t overwhelm the other. Once in check, your life is purposeful without thought to it, defining success. Your ultimate goal as an enlightened being existing alongside an intelligent species is to not have to feel accountable for the mundane aspects of the experience. Trust in all your knowledge.

Dense clouds not raining means still being on the move; coming from your own western region means practical measures have yet to be executed. These words are to be taken as presented. This is not “the end” in the terminal sense. At this instance in time-space you are involved in a constantly sophisticating world. You cannot unknow this, nor can any other member of the intelligent species convince you otherwise. What do you do with this knowledge? Hoard it? Proclaim it? Those two options are the most extreme. This is where “job hunting” in the metaphysical sense begins. If we are part of a cycle of sophistication, then what is my best purpose in this experience? This is where engaging other enlightened people comes in handy. Amplify your capacity for knowledge/verstehen by hanging out with other informed people. The experience differs per enlightened one, but the frequency in the collective remains the same. While you’re capable of many tasks, the only ones worth experiencing are those which provide you with a sense of purpose and which do not interfere with your pursuit of higher knowledge.

13. Sameness with People

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Poems From the MHU

Welp. Had a psychotic break again.

If you follow me on Facebook, I let you know as much details needed. The good news is, I’m home now and enjoying being in touch with the spirits of the home, as Jung encourages us to do soon after separation.

Here’s some poems I crafted during my descent from psychosis. Please critique in the Comments section. Love you all.

 

I am. My Own. Percussion. Instrument!


A skeleton woman

does not need music.

She needs laughter.

Then,

Music.


I you miss pianos,

look for Dragonflies.


The sound

of a piano’s keys

is like

playing a beat in my heart,

wishing

it was a piano.


3.28-29.2017

Ivonne Simeon

Inanna

White Lotus

White Feather

Mother of Dance


2017

The Great White Male

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I slapped on the visor and apron with uncertainty. Already I had worked the season opener for the local college team, now my volunteering efforts were geared towards opening day for the Tampa Bay Buccaneers. The USF game was its own special nightmare – scorching day, no breeze, collapsing bodies – but otherwise, sales at the Second Time Arounders Marching Band tiki bar boomed. I think it was because we were by the boat.

This time around, we were placed in a beer corner with not a lot of space to move between the six of us. Before I had finished dumping ice onto the premium beers it was go time! Customers lining up for all things frosty and salty. I did as trained – smiled as I took the order, if it involved alcohol I asked for ID, held the ID up to confirm face and date, then processed the sale with a cheerful “Enjoy the game!” to send their happy selves off.

And then, he came. A large, burly man dressed in Buccaneer regalia, beads dangling proudly from his neck. His face was cute, chubby, and pinked at the cheeks. He ordered two beers and a water. I asked for his photo ID. His chubby face became firm. He flared his arms, “Are you fucking serious?”

“Yes,” I calmly replied.

“I’m 54 years old! I could be your goddamn father!”

“I’m sorry sir,” I calmly explain, “I can’t sell you those drinks without an ID.”

I watched as he stepped backwards, almost into the couple behind him, then flare his nostrils and widen his chest. I swear he was going to rush the stand, but then he yelled, “Let’s settle this right now.”

My eyes followed his left hand waiving over someone. I’m thinking it’s his wife or somebody holding his ID. A dark blue suit with TPD on the lapel and a gun at the waist appeared instead.

Never in the history of me has a cop being waived my direction ever worked out in my favor. I’m flushed, I feel my heart start to race, and an “Oh SHIT” mantra starts looping in my head, all the while thinking, he called the cops on me, he called the cops on me…

The large man details the situation above and then tells the cop “She shouldn’t ID me.” Wow! I wish I had that kind of social authority! Being above the law, being able to tell a cop what should and should not happen to him during his good time at a privately-owned stadium.

The policeman looked at me, at him, then replied, “It’s her discretion whether she sells you alcohol or not.”

WHAAAT! He’s on MY side?

Never in the history of me has a cop agreed with me, even off-duty. I felt redeemed. And even though he was pouty after the fact, I still sold the big guy a water.

I don’t care how mouthy you are. Rule #1 in retail: get the sale.

I wasn’t worried about him, I was worried about the cop. He was worried about his beer, I was worried I was ending up in handcuffs. This is our world – a bunch of unnecessary worries. If I’m lucky in this lifetime, I shouldn’t feel threatened by the appearance of law enforcement anymore.

I’ve slept on this and still felt compelled to write, because it’s such a phenomenal experience. When you look a certain way, or hang out in a certain crowd, the labels and assumptions abound. Negative labels and assumptions unfortunately carry on with you despite social improvements. So when I describe this simple scenario, I wonder if you’re reading it as someone who’s been negatively labeled all their life, or if you’re wondering why the cop agreeing with me is such a monumental deal. It is a big deal. It signifies the necessary shift in the social wind. Not everyone who looks like me needs to be disciplined by the police. Moreover, people who look like me aren’t easily threatened by the gesticulations of the Great White Male, as was my friend’s mistake.

 

 

 

 

Fred is Dead

(I wrote this in reflection of my former neighbor’s shocking and untimely death. At first I wasn’t going to post, but I have to honor the guy who, as complicated our relationship was, inspired my artistry on several occasions. I pour one out for you, buddy.)

“I bet you got that tattoo long time ago, huh…”
I don’t even turn my head, but instead offer my building neighbor a tight smile. He’s showing off again, I internalized, as i hurriedly stuff another bushel of laundry in the back of my truck. Fred, and his parking lot company, whom I refer to as “the hens”, tone down their chortles and clucks to a watchful silence, either romancing their curiosity or fantasy, whatever. After living on my own in that building for the past few years, I’d gotten used to these men gathering in our lot simply to watch the world go by. Proving no threat, I doubled back to my apartment for the next bushel. The hens return to their clucking. I hear Fred let out a loud guffaw then an extended Ha Haaa as I turned away. I roll my eyes.
He’s showing off again.

Last week, Fred was murdered in his apartment, his throat slit by his nephew, Willy, who’d recently come to live with him. Fred was like that, letting family and acquaintances stay with him for stretches at a time. While these arrangements helped him with covering food and shelter expenses, it caused me to elevate my guard. Once, after running errands I came home to find Fred and his company smoking weed from a hookah on my staircase! Had he offered a puff I may have been less stringent, but since he lorded over our common space when no one was around, I had to remain defiant.
This is the part where my uncouth self should apologize for talking ill of the dead, but I find that’s a social reaction to an uncomfortable awareness of mortality. I, acutely aware of the finality of life, celebrate Fred a different way. You could count on Fred to be Fred, either using his key to open our main door for complete strangers, or banging on the old lady’s door to exploit her generosity, or his complete indifference towards health and safety as he fileted a freshly caught tilapia from the retention pond.

Was Fred my friend? He was certainly a constant figure in my life, either through Southern cordials or my observations of him from my balcony, either pulling his fishing gear towards the lake or strolling alongside the property, hands clasped figuratively behind his back, his gangly arms merging in such a way that he sported a lean – a lean so distinct I borrowed it for a characterization in an unpublished novella. He frustrated me, in that he was drawn to accommodate any female in our vicinity, including the young prostitute in Apt G. He disappointed me, serving as a look out on many drug exchanges, and possibly having a role in the robbery of the unit below mine. As a reader, you must be thinking this is a foul representation of an such an unfortunate soul, but it is our truth.

The way he was executed was heinous, but not so unbelievable. Ours was a quiet community, relatively: of everyone who lived in that building Fred was around the longest. I wouldn’t say Fred was harmless, but he was… manageable. We acknowledged each other on the daily; he with the “hey lady” and me with the “hey Fred” in return. That translated to, ‘you do you, I’ll do me’ and we both understood. Fred could count on me being enigmatic and reclusive and I could count on him to introduce someone to wonder about, even write about.
Willy didn’t show up til last year, as I was transitioning from that place to my current home. He worried my friendly neighbors, pissed off the astute ones, and gave Fred a difficult time. I completely blame the apartment management as well as the security company for his murder, but I also have to blame Fred’s generosity for making a very bad call. The fact that Willy’s related to Fred makes it all the worse. Of all situations I monitored Fred participating in, never would I have guessed his own blood would take him out. For that, I’m sad for Fred. He was doing what many of us with limited incomes do – sacrifice personal safety for social compliance. I couldn’t improve my situation while all my money was tied into book publishing. He was clamoring to keep his shelter. We shared despair but celebrated it uniquely. In that sense, our trappings made us unlikely kin.

I am truly sad Fred is dead. I believe his time here was cut short because his contributions were too desperate. His soul has departed, but he’ll live on as challenger and champion of the 1600 block of Lake Lynn Drive.

FULL ARTICLE: http://baynews9.com/content/news/baynews9/news/article.html/content/news/articles/bn9/2016/5/11/police_investigating.html

Just In Time For Halloween

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NEW Anthology available thru Thirteen o'clock Press

Inside this anthology you’ll find yours truly in both prose and poem form!

The story I submitted is from the perspective of a social predator locked in a holding facility, terrifying residents and staff alike. Oh and the evil person happens to be female 😉

There’s three poems dedicated to women in the throes of mania, circumstances varying but each known too well in modern society. I consider A Coterie of Diamonds a forewarning to readers…if you push a woman too far, prepare for major consequences!

Thanks be to Thirteen o’clock Press for publishing my art, my 2nd antho feature with this press. Support your favorite indie artist and many others by purchasing through Lulu.com 😀

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The Most Dangerous Blog In The World

I have always been in love with O’Shea Jackson. The way he carried himself, that street-borne braggadocio mixed with literary genteel, a marred Dionysus not outdone by our screwed up society. The crushing weight of discrimination, heavy to bear, yet O’Shea kept his shoulders up, his head high, never quite frowning. Bothered, but not broken. His Jehri curl, perfect.

*swoon*

Ahh me.

Cradled face on twin bed as my heart sighed towards the telly, ankles crossed, marking the beat for Straight Outta Compton. The rest of the clan: Eazy-E, Dr. Dre, Yella, MC Ren, they were alright, but not the focus of my tween attention. Ice Cube was bad, but not bad meaning bad…well, you know the rest.

Of course I went and watched the documentary this past weekend, of COURSE I did! And please, whatever is causing you to be scared to go, don’t believe the hype. It’s just like Coal Miner’s Daughter. A story of struggle against the status quo, of artistic starvation, of personal definition. The moment Loretta Lynn decides to write and perform a song about birth control, wanting to take back womens’ right to be a human being and not society’s brooding sow, she is forever marred. Instead of being recognized for her bravery in speaking out for the oppressed, she is demonized; her music, considered dangerous.

The struggle is real, and so is the talent.

As I pass the movie lobby poster making note of ‘the most dangerous group in the world’ or whatever, I smirk at the thought of, who labeled N.W.A. as such? They certainly didn’t. What they did with Fuck The Police was utilize momentum to take back the right to be acknowledged as human beings and not society’s kicked down domesticated dogs. There was a scene that was so agitating for me I squeezed my man’s hand really hard, then realized he was angrily squeezing mine back. Damn right, fuck the police, we both expressed in pissed-off embrace.

I knew I was going to cry once E got sick. His voice, his crowd command despite his tiny build, reminds me of my monster days. I let the tears flow then broke a selfish smile at the thought: “I bet you would’ve liked I Blew Up Juarez, E.”

Straight Outta Compton the documentary did everything right. Honored Eazy and Dre; made me smile as I learned more about my tweenage boyfriend’s skills as a writer.

I had my demigod Oprah’s ‘a ha!’ moment at an early age, listening to West Coast rap albums, following Ice Cube’s skyrocketing career, putting into practice what Cube was extolling: people are out to placate, not celebrate, dark individuality. My a ha was realizing everything is not unicorns and rainbows, and I’d be lying to myself if I even attempt to write prose or poetry without darkness. After all, that’s the point of “gangsta” rap: tell the ugly truth, expose the pretty lies.

Great documentary; I will likely own it once it’s out on Blu-Ray.

Eros Be Damned

[Usually periwinkle blue, today I’m feeling more midnight blue, no glitter. Here’s a pseudocode of a poem which might go somewhere, eventually. Shouts to William Butler Yeats, yo]

Love is Pain.

is a meat grinder for broken hearts.

“ “ cayenne pepper in the eye, lemon in a fresh paper cut.

keeps me awake, gives me night sweats, drenches my sleep shirt, mats my hair.

makes me want to commit Hate crimes – not out of principle, but out of circumstance.

= the Devil.

But…

Like Lucifer, Love is the brightest Light. Perhaps that’s Pain itself – Light fighting to burst past Pride, but the walls are too thick.

It’s the Light, pushing pushing, making friction, heating as it churns with vicious velocity, burning within.

Love is a fighter.

is fortified by Hope, driven by Resolve.

“ “ a twin, and champions its pair. ‘Soul mates’ is the regular jargon, but that’s a bunch of New Age hooey.

“ “ an element. The Soul is a catalyst.

By themselves, nothing materializes until they meet their match.

Once fused,

Life begins,

planets orbit,

stars explode,

the dark ends of the Universe

reveal their Beauty.

©2015 VS Enterprises

Indie Artist? Time To Shine!

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Full text from Facebook

Into The Woods

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Appalachian Overlook, North Carolina