RUDIMENTS, pt. 1,241
(a long journey, with many turnouts)
Doggerel and dipshit,
crazy stuff and useless
info. Everything abounds.
I'd not know what to make
of any of this were it not
for my own sort of 'spiritual'
director who or which leads
me into and out of things.
Archetypal, as if, yes, all of
everything has existed before,
and I too was part of it: Scoundrels
and motorcars, Crusades and
knights in armor, knife-wielding
murderers and complacent fools.
-
I figured out a long time back
that infinity is always building
outward - which is what makes
it infinite and what gives yet
another reason for our 'living' -
which is otherwise a constant
mystery. There's always a next.
Four always needs a five, and
so on. Men talk of other things,
but to me the entire world, and
all of consciousness, was just
one, large, present. There was
no past, and there is no future -
it's all NOW, and all together.
-
Sometimes it seems all we ever
do is tire. Wear down. Slowly
cease. What we never do is reach
the 'Infinity' we grope for. The
cool thing about NYC, back in
1968 anyway, that era, was how
so much was held within that
single grasp of time - I was
able to walk from the 1700's
to the then-present day, as I
chose. Every time-portal and
option was still present to me,
and all existing right then in
one plane of consciousness,
open to me. As if I'd entered a
grand new library, a great place
that beckoned me in and then
opened itself outward to those
infinities that which were
stretched out before me in
each (ever-expanding) of a
hundred directions, not merely
the four I was used to. Countless
possibilities, and expanding
horizons. It wasn't just me
either, for I communicated the
sense-form to others around
me, and we all lived, not fully
aware of it, within that same
'clump' of silent travelers who'd
come through to 'Earth-time'
together. Representing something;
perhaps at one time, long before,
we were crusaders together, or
primitive nomads crossing
savannahs and deserts, or maybe
we were Dutch burghers who
once shared certain responsibilities.
Or monks. Or scholars. Alchemists
of consciousness and time, or
Charlatans of Charlemagne.
-
I couldn't talk, and I'd never yet
learned to pounce. That was all
yet to come. The only knowledge
my upbringing had given me was
how to get along, follow orders,
and acquiesce. I was sure sick
of all that. The only way I could
convince myself of my own
vitality was by working with
the spontaneous and vital, and
decisive, impulses on the part of
my own unconscious. Archetypal,
tribal, or not. My creative impulse
kept getting stronger and stronger,
as I myself seemed to grow wilder
and wilder, but staying within my
own - nearly perfected - bounds.
It was all very interesting. And it
was still only 1967/1968.
-
Sometimes I thought good and evil,
rather than being decisively apart,
merged into each other; even with
polarities reversed, and beyond
human judgment. I found evil to be
in things thought 'good,' and good
to be found in things considered as
'evil.' Neither had any compunction
to remain in their own place, and
the Devil's very trick was to move
them around on us so we'd get as
confused as the Adam and Eve story
had them then being. None of it
really mattered anyway, because
life wasn't lived by externals, and
all things pass - soon enough.
I decided that most humans were
dumb enough not to see that overlap
and - one way or another - they'd
succumb to those distinctions
even if 'artificial,' as they were
taught them, and it was to the benefit
of any 'rulers' to institute false
designations and distinctions and
enforce them. The individuals
I'd see always seemed to be so
unconscious that they never saw
the potentialities for their own
decision-making, and instead were
always going around looking for
external rules and regulations to
guide him or her through their,
almost unaware, perplexities.
Guidebooks, astrology, star-charts,
birth-lists and chronicles, education,
gross generalizations, and - most
especially - schooling; which
says absolutely nothing about
general human inadequacy nor
the secrets of private experience.
It was not even worth lifting a
finger to do anything or go anywhere
in the quest of bettering any of that.
I stayed mostly alone, and silent,
trying to better my own, secret,
internal star-list. I knew it was
going to be a long journey.
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