Just in…

*Ron Gasparri*, founder of MSI – Modern Scientific Illuminism, colleague, co-conspirator and friend has been so kind and generous to have written and posted a terribly good review for the book “Dreams of the Magus – Where Angels Fear to Tread.” It is as follows –

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Indirect Prose, Profoundly Enlightening, Esoteric & Kabbalistic Revelation

“Some books are well-written. Some books have relevant information. Some books are filed with grand, meaningless rhetoric. G. Peter Madstone’s “Dreams of the Magus” is well-written, contains relevant information and has meaning throughout its easily readable, flowing style that is reminiscent of Robert Anton Wilson’s style, as found in his masterpiece, “Quantum Psychology.” Before I go on, I have to proudly disclose that Pete is a good friend of mine and rather than assume that would skew this review in a positive direction, it actually made me read it with a more critical eye. That’s the point; as near and dear as the Western Esoteric Tradition is to me, I would never actively promote anything that claims to be a device for illumination that didn’t provide any light at all.

I read “Dreams of the Magus” in one sitting and that’s how I recommend everyone reads it. There are obvious Kabbalistic allusions throughout this book and in this context, both the new aspirant and seasoned Esotericist alike will appreciate, and receive. Many have the perception that Magick is just something that Harry Potter does with his wand in hand. After reading this book, not only will that misconception be erased, it will be exceedingly clear that there is far less “hocus pocus” involved at all. The overall implication I took away from this lucid, well written guide is that Magick is a lifestyle that empowers one to take responsibility for every aspect of his or her life. It is a proactive approach that leaves Chaos as little room as possible to meddle, and that is not paranormal at all. That shouldn’t diminish the importance of active ritual, but it should put it in context. Universal energy made use of to manifest a desired reality works best when one ensures it can augment self under the best possible conditions.

There a few typos that made into the final draft, but they do nothing to take away from the value of this guide that should be in every serious student’s collection.”

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Added to this review comes another 5 star rating! Of course, as author of this book, I will take a shameless moment to also blow the same horn. This is an extremely valuable book which can benefit anyone who reads it in some unimaginable ways. That’s it…

You can buy this book anywhere online or order it from you local independent booksellers if you prefer to support the  smaller entrepreneurial spirits that drive our culture in non-homogenized ways. For now, here’s a link to my Amazon book page –

http://www.amazon.com/dp/1449547419/

My “First” Enlightenment

Many, many years ago…

So long ago it seems as if it is a past life. So many chapters in my life have been read, re-read, read again and forgotten. This is one of those chapters in my life that I forgot existed. You might expect that the moment of one’s enlightenment would be never forgotten, but remembering such a moment is contrary that moment’s essence, and its life is lost in the annals of a memory replayed over and over. I had never re-read this chapter in my life (like I have so many others), but I stumbled upon it this morning while doing some preliminary plastering on my home’s exterior.

And so it begins –

I find myself sitting at the feet of a nameless master. But wait, I must step back a bit to explain how I got here.

I have always sought the most serious answers to life’s puzzling questions – serious answers to this joke we call life, and so, before entering college I decided to go to India to seek out those who knew. I travelled the countryside for months. I had meditated and sat satsang with yogis, sages and fakirs. I had seen it all, and yet still had not found what I was looking for.

I spent weeks at an Ashram waiting for Sai Baba to appear, hopeful that this God could answer my questions. When he arrived, I was granted private audience with him. While he explained to me that he was not the one for me, he said the One was calling and that I must go back on the road. I must continue my journey. Before I left, and in the typical nature of wise ones, Sai Baba muttered something so cryptic (I was rather young and naive) to me that had me wondering as I walked out the door, “Is this God bisexual?” This, in and of itself held no import to me whatsoever, as I had met bisexual Gods before, I just never quite understood them. Gods and men all have choices to make, and it is far from me to judge another. I later learned that this God has controversy follow him like flies follow un-showered Frenchmen (of which there are many – flies and un-showered Frenchmen).

I encountered Babaji some weeks later, and he, too, said he was not the one. I had to ask him in reply, “If all are one, how can you  not be the one?”

He smiled some cryptic smile as his sparkling eyes bored deep into my soul and I ended up with the biggest headache I ever had. He told me to go to the Ganges and bath so I would be clean for my meeting with the one True One. I went to the Ganges, high in the foothills of northern India, and bathed in the holiest of earthy waters. I ended up with dysentery.

After this, I continued on my journey, asking many where I might find the one. People would say, “Ahhh, you seek the Silent One! Continue on your path, young man – he awaits you.”

Weeks had passed as the blisters on my feet grew into slathering, oozing , puss-filled monstrosities fusing with the cotton fibers of my socks. Weeks of doubts, wishes to be elsewhere, hunger I had never known, and sights to behold unfolded before me. I knew I would soon be dead if I could not find the One.

One morning I entered a small village ready to give up on my dreams of understanding all there was to be understood. I asked an old man about the One. He pointed. There was a door. I went through the door. My eyes fell upon a not so unusual sight of a man in robes meditating on a cushion. Could this be the One I sought? Could this be the One that awaited me – that One who knew I was coming to see him? I sat down silently before him and waited.

Silence.

Hours pass – he begins to snore.

More hours pass – he stirs.

A little movement under the folds of cloth that covered this wise one, and some low moaning begins. Chanting, or maybe only the response of one whose legs are stiff from having not moved from the typically uncomfortable full-lotus position?

I could take it no longer, and so I spoke as this moaning (chanting?) continued getting louder. I asked expectantly and abruptly, “Are you the One I seek?”

His reply?

“Shhhh…. I am Master Bei Ting.”

I knew I had found the One.

Imbalance and the Tree – Part 2

So to continue, in this microcosm of what is always “running and returning”, I am back to elaborate from where I left off. Imbalance, of course, is always a risk, and plays a divine (for lack of a better term) role in our course. This imbalance exists so that we may find balance through correctional activities that compensate for vibrational (habitual or otherwise) shifts that we so relish (while, of course, denying them). The desire for balance teaches us our mobility – it teaches us to walk, and will teach us to recognize when we are faltering on our path. It is a good system.

The risks on the straight and narrow can all be sourced from one thing, and this is mistaking it for a short-cut, or a fast track. This path is actually more demanding, requiring a discipline hard to come by. By not exploring the branches of one’s potential through direct experience, the fruit on those branches could be said to be studied from a distance. This is, however, a relatively short-term condition (in the greater scheme of things), for as one reaches the central point of the tree, s/he is availed all that exists to the right and the left in a direct way, and can be willingly, albeit momentarily, in these realities as s/he chooses, knowing the price to be paid if this existence, or pole, is not balanced by its opposite, or mate.

Suffice it to say, whatever path one finds themselves on, it is one that leads somewhere – it is always one that leads to new realities, and new ways of thought and existence. Pitfalls are essentially irrelevant if seen as negative experience. Duality reveals itself as an illusion, and the journey is one that takes us to the place we find ourselves in, in each and every moment. If we cannot be where we are, we have failed, forsaking the present moment by a future moment that does not exist, and will only arrive malformed due to our own neglect of taking notice of where we are in this moment. We cheapen our own existence by thinking of it as less important, even mundane, in comparison to what we believe to be a positive trait – that called hope of a better future.

Hope is superficial, and sitting on a chair, wishing things were different. If you get up out of that chair, you are no longer hoping, you are creating. If you are totally within this creative activity without thought of its outcome, you are in the moment, and assured that all subsequent moments will unfold perfectly. This reality transcends all hope, and you stand as being the one responsible for your creation.

Corean Injections and Pushing the Word

Cover me, when I sleep
Cover me, when I breathe
You throw your pearls before the swine
Make the monkey blind
Cover me, darling please  

Shock the Monkey – Peter Gabriel 

 

Like a good song, the word will always start having you think you know where you are — where you think you’re comfortable. Even the experienced and jaded would admit that, but, like a junkie wanting to shock the monkey, you want that jolt of adrenaline, that push (or pull) that takes you over the edge. You want to be challenged, but you keep this dirty little secret buried in the depths of that sponge-like matter called your brain. 

All your most bland desires would have you believe this little lie of comfort and calm, and so you would visit grassy, tree-lined fields where birds are singing. A lazy brook bubbles in the near distance accompanied by a sleeping frog’s croak and the drone of a non-existent chicada. Mushrooms open their caps in the glory of the morning gaining sustenance from essential alchemical elements — the clarified dews, dappled sunlight and cozy cowpies that have brought them here only as potential. They blacken before your eyes in response to your presence, while not so far away, but across the great water, lies a city of roses where color abounds by the dictates of man who attempts rather successfully the governing of nature. 

What is this that man does? 

You are tossed far to the south, quickly and not so gently, into a world bursting with chaos, motion and noise. Freeways, traffic and the stench of fumes spewed from tailpipes — everything here is attached to wheels and geared for activity, for the wicked cannot be allowed to rest. Panic, fear and aggression unheard of goes unnoticed by those who live in this arena, their senses dulled into a sleepy apathy when a gunshot sounds, and now, 

You are in the stars, behind and beyond the glittering sparks that you have dreamt of in your reverie for better things. This is the deepest, darkest and coldest reaches of space, and yet you feel no cold, and the light shines beyond all things. What is this, but vaguely familiar? All is indistinguishable here — unnamable, ineffable. Suddenly there is a form — a middle-aged troubadour skips by you singing a song of times coming by. He skips onward towards his inevitable demise while a small dog nips at his heels, warning him of his doom, but this is a jump, a jump into an abyss that does not kill — it is a jump that can only liberate. Fear is no more, and the wheel of fortune spins on….

The fear is pervasive in this place. It is persuasive in this place of final release. You have suffered here too long — for ages and eons of time. You have suffered with those of your tribe, with those you never knew until the suffering began. Uniforms have pushed you beyond abuse, starving and torture until they pushed you into this heartless and demeaning process of death. There is only pain and the taste of choking, putrid gas and vomit coming up your throat from the depths of hell and you explode into countless sparks of the brightest light you have ever known, and it has begun. 

You’re standing in that grassy field once again, but time has passed. The sun has gone low into the evening haze of the diminishing day. It is the crack between the worlds — and you know you have lived many lives. You have experienced all things and you are expelled again, 

Expelled into a world where image exists as song, a song which is built upon word. You have been taken away to places where only life, dream and mind can take you. You have been safely delivered back into what is your place. This is your good place — your safe place. This is the place where you think you know what is going on, and while worlds and realities continue to spin around you in eternal existence, you have important things to do, and your diversions fade away into the reality of  work, chore and responsibilities. We must be realistic…. 

Time and time again you have been given a gift. Time and time again you have taken these journeys and become one with all that is, one with the jazz of words and the jazz of life itself. 

The jazz of your mind…. 

And while Chick plays on, you obsessively shock the monkey back into its sleep once again. 

Sleep, little darling. Sleep.

 

Nick Myers Speaks

When I first encountered Nick Myers, I was cruising the web for interesting things, people, blogs, etc., and I came across this site called Atomic Potential (Liberated Self). I seem to remember, in a short description found on a back-page, that the writer of this Blog, Nick, desired most deeply to make a masterful cup of tea. Now this caught my attention, being I was raised by an English mother, but I soon realized Nick was speaking of something much deeper. It was evident that he was coming from directions eastward (and inward) and was dwelling in an arena of non-duality, non-identity, non-self, non-sense and non-such (most simply described as a beautiful “place” to be). Nick responded to my invite in the typical fashion of many writers when asked to do a bio.

To look objectively at your path and what helped create what you have become is not an easy thing. To speak of your passion is one thing, but to speak of your self has most of us wondering where to begin. “What could be so interesting about me?” “Why would anyone be entertained or stimulated by such an ordinary thing called my life?” No question could be harder to one who seeks the nameless, but in looking at his past, Nick realized how remarkable the ordinary can be, and how gifts that are given can also be shared. This is his story….

When I was initially asked to do a biography, I had thought of the many things in my past that I would be able to talk about but none of them seemed out of the ordinary. I actually don’t really remember a lot of my childhood, but looking deeper into it, from where I am now, I realize that there is absolutely no other way I could have become other than what I am. As a little guy, I was quite the curious fellow. I was always getting into mischief with friends (not the bad kind, not the good kind, just the kind). I do remember having a broad imagination and that I could play for hours outdoors until the soles of my feet were black from asphalt and the sun went down. I remember hearing the pleasant voice of my mother calling me back home.

I was unstoppable at this young age, climbing trees, watching the world from my lofty perch, and just taking in the gentle breeze for hours. There was always this re-occurring theme of wind or water in my life, as I was always playing in nature and the wind was at my disposal — whether it was at home in a tree, or at the local park that was an easy walking-distance away. I couldn’t get away from the tranquility that surrounded me. I had taken to tree-climbing with my friend Hrant and we could talk for hours — we shared young-boy’s insights, probably goofy ones at best, but you know, sometimes words of the innocent tend to ring more true than words we use after we’ve grown.

I was entering a very important part of my life, for I had found religion. A friend had taken me to his church (Christian) and I was eating it up, taking in all that was being said to be truth. After all, what can we do at this ripe, young and innocent age but listen to our superiors? The Christian faith is a beautiful faith to have, so for awhile I sought refuge in it. It was important in my growth that I experienced it as I transitioned into high school for it gave me something to stand upon.

In high school there are two distinct feelings that come to mind, “oblivious” and “Buddhism.” I was oblivious because not only did I not see what was going on around me at the time — there is surprisingly a lot of drug and alcohol use in high school which I was ignorant of — but I was also ignorant to the mass amount of separation between people. There was separation everywhere. This attitude seems to originate in those years that that we begin to develop “the High School teen identity.” Now, I wasn’t exactly a part of any one group – it seemed that I could mingle with almost any group I wanted (like I said, I was ignorant to certain trends).

In regards to Buddhism, I wasn’t yet a part of that religion, but there was a strange pull to it for some reason. I remember thinking about how it would be just to be a monk. Funny that – I think this idea originated because I had one English teacher in particular that was really willing to stretch our brains. She is the one who introduced me to the old book called “Siddhartha.”

This kind of stuff intrigued me, so much so that I started reading more and more about Christian spirituality. I started learning of angels and demons, and sin. I even had a book on spiritual warfare which I still have. I was really beginning to grow inwardly, and was experiencing dreams which I could not understand at the time. My faith in Christianity continued to grow. (I realized later that it was this growth that would push me further, and allow me to transcend what it was that I was learning at the time).

In entering college, I opened up to all of the possibilities of education and the possibilities of things outside of what everyone was telling me to believe. I enrolled in a Religious Philosophy class and was suddenly exposed to the many different religions of the world. This would rock my world and shook all that I called my foundation, yet I still remained carefree. All through my college life, with all the stress and anxieties of it, there was a kind of stillness within me that I couldn’t quite comprehend (frankly, I still can’t). It’s such a mystery to me, but while pursuing a business major, I sought philosophy as my refuge – specifically religious philosophy. I had started with Christianity, then went to Buddhism, which later gave way to Hinduism and Sufism as well.

I slowly became more open to the ways of the eastern mystics near the end of my college career. A turning point in my life came with my reading Paulo Coelho’s, “The Alchemist.” It opened my heart and I was able to take in what his words were implying, deeply – his message went down into my whole being. Around this time I was introduced to Advaita through Nisargardatta Maharaj and this allowed the questions of “who” or “what” I am to flourish within me, and this “concept” really began to take seed and grow. As I continued to study and read, the body lived a rather typical college person’s life, but inwardly there was (and still is) a revolution happening, a universal happening.

I soon learned the lesson of detachment, for in one class I was presented with the late Christian Mystic Meister Eckhart teachings which were about detachment, and what it meant to cling to worldly things. He taught how attachment can only bring about suffering. This also brought to light within me how it is we who do this to ourselves — it is not outside of us but inside where all this takes place, so my responsibility to self began to grow. Although I began to feel this overwhelming love for the people around me, I was also very distant from “emotional” involvement. I began to realize that the needful attachment to emotion wasn’t necessary to see that love and compassion pervaded everything, but even through this pervasion, it all existed through non-action. I realized that no matter what this growing body was doing, it wasn’t really doing anything at all — that things were working out as they should at every moment. I did feel empty and distant from others, but also had a sense of well being and
a very real compassion towards others.

I began to react less and less to things others would do or say to me, but I was also presented with opportunities for continued growth and healing of things I had repressed for so long – things would continue to bubble up.

These were the trials for me in terms of relating to others (in regards to a love life). By the end of the semester I was deeply rooted in Advaita, but then I discovered Osho and Anthony de Mello, both “mystics” (for lack of a better word) who showed me so much more about myself. My mind couldn’t withstand it, and it was left to only grow outward, more towards others. Although the personality still had its quirks (and it still does — that’s what makes the personal so beautiful) there was still this growing inner silence, peacefulness, and gratitude.

I was releasing my old views of Christianity and what God is and expanded into what is a collective whole. I realized that there is no separation between what we are and what we see as  God/Awareness/Universal Consciousness, each of which is a different word for the same timeless, indescribable thing. However in terms of chronological and psychological time, the journey seemed to take up the whole of the 23 years of my life. Paradoxically, it all manifested spontaneously and perfectly, and at the exact moment that it was suppose to.

Finally, I come to rest between Zen (the connection between who, or what you and I are) and the seemingly material world. I would have to say that Zen and the Tao are the same, and that whatever is used to describe this Tao is not the true Tao (or Zen). It is but rather just a pointer, an indicator of the truth. I will continue to go on pointing at this Tao, but I can never to know it with my intellect. This place I rest is what the Chinese refer to as “Wu-Wei” — the serene reflection. When there is no ripple of thought in the mind, the reflection on this pond reflects a perfect and clear reality. If I stir it up as a storm does, it becomes chaotic, so I stay without word as much as possible. I have learned that to not impose personal thought on reality allows me to see reality for what it is, clearly.

And so, I stay in this gap in silence, and I stay in this gap for guidance. I watch my breath as it guides me to this place — this place of inner silence.

I have become a spiritual being having a human experience.

To spend more time with Nick, visit him at his website:

Atomic Potential