Flames of Purification - Many Polarities

Two aspects, a never-ending cycle, cycles within cycles, aeons and aeons of time with Creator aspect in power, in majority, then, when the predestined limit of the exhalation of the universe, the consuming destrucction with the inhalation of the great dreamer, the creator of our universe known by many names: Shiva, Allah, Brahman, Vishnu, Yehowah, Azathoth; even the constant harmony of the universe has been prophesised to halt, everflowing as it is, and our dream existence shall be naught but memory.

 

 

What new dream shall our Creator place us in? Or shall we merely observe and influence, as mitochondria in a deity's body?

Perhaps the next universe shall again be created according to the image(s) and data the Grand Intelligence manifested, or perhaps a new, hitherto undreamt universe shall arise into existence, bringing with it previously unknown marvels and horrors that have yet to be dreamt into reality by our mind.

 

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I wrote these words after observing a ceremony. Billowing smoke plumed out of a building in front of me to the left as I walked. Peering into the building, various fires were lit on six inch stone...pagodas? While a main one, fuellled by leaves released most of the smoke.

Only men could be seen in the temple, and while my eyes stung from watching them, they fanned the smoke with a sash as they stood nearby, barefoot and robed. It occured to me, as I was no longer distracted by the sweat dripping off my face, that the ash and smoke would seal the pores somewhat from the humidity. I shall, as thousands of generations of people in India have done, and smear ash over my body, both for the above reason and as a reminder of keeping within one's body, whatever spirit still lingers in my depleting self, meditating on how to adjust the personal mistake of letting unwanted people and their suggestions into one side of one's being, and the seemingly unavoidable consequences of over-reliance on friends and family in the mind.

I let words affect both body and mind, before, and the physical and mental highs shall be countered with lows, as I understand it, once again in a cycle of a waveform, shouts and screams of agony and ecstasy, sobs and sighs, shocks and sleeps, strains and snugs, all experienced combinations of ingredients stored in Akashic Records to be reused, refined as chosen by one another's choosers with/against one.

As far as choosers have choice, everything emanating and absorbing? Introculating? In a cosmic, nay, universal breath of life...and death.

If Eliade, Nietzsche, et al. are correct, then the above current belief I have means that when we finitely (mote it be) relive this life again, there is potential for it to be both better and worse, to have different causes; to have many different effects to the current life's recieved ones. For if it were otherwise, be it good or evil, what possible things could an old soul learn as it revolves with the wheel, between states of the multpile polarities and associations formed like wires between nodes? If a life can not be perfected according to one's satisfaction, then what use are mistakes whose lessons are to be forgotten and repeated ceaselessly?

We must imagine Sisyphus as we imagine each other: Happy, sad, and in various other states. I speak from regret that I have not thought of my loved ones enough, that I have a great and terrible twilight ahead of me. My friends and family, toiled Sisyphus-like, more than I have, and I would wish them to be happier, while toiling and while not. Yet then the double edge of the blade of wishful prayer shows it's sharpness: If they become happier, it would seem that I am cursing them to be evetually brought sadder, or lower. It is tempting to conclude that through wishing my loved ones despair, trials, anguish, then they are granted eventual equal, if not greater awe and fascination, comfort and relaxation, and a joyful pleasure that would riva that which those who joined the Hashshashin 'endured'.

I believe everything that has happened to me is due to differing types of contributions from others, and I believe that this is true for everyone else as well. Even believing I and they are repaid in kind, I sit hesitant to perform the mental, physical and spiritual work to make that wish come true. I hasten to add, that I have not yet the courage to wish those negatives on my family and friends, certainly consciously, for if I am wrong the consequences would be untenable for continuation.

Worse still, I sit paralysed from uncertainty, yet while I am still on the path of learning, Lam and Lama both, I am worried my very words written down are those of dissolution, I will continue to try and do good for others, while my negativity should be limited to that which my ideal self would do, not that of peers, or the mob mentality.

I must put my physical form to more use, as of late my arms and back have ached while sat. Shooting, stabbing pains through my feet, and both my hands have been cramping,  like I have a case of the deadly boneitis. Looking for a manual project could be worthwhile.

Mentally I should be saying and doing what is Right, having been more of a Sinister persuasion then is good for others in the short term, and myself in the long term. Though it seems those I have wronged would be thanking me during my later suffering for such...mistakes.

Spiritually I will continue to learn and attain my perfect self - be it as it has struck me, how my dream dream-self is, compatibly with the true self Atman, simultaneously the no-self of all, the Anatman.

May 2023, Kochi, Kerala, India

Edit: Perhaps an end to toil for all would be a safer wish to bring for All of us.

A Gnostically Scientific Attempt to Grasp Creation

The soul inhabiting ancient mineral,

Burning with a white heat

It's expellation a funeral

The fire inside mirrors that which the Divine applied with great force,

It's bearer's silent scream betray hateful and dutiful remorse.

How long the fall, the primeval descent,

Tumbling without reckoning through the blackened abyss.

"Must my suffering be the greatest, to match thine own?

For what greaater purpose shall I begin to sojourn?"

The brimming sulphur mineral stone, nigh infinite temporal prison, hurtles ever faster towards the anti-Eden.

A storm of stench, roiling mass of chaotic interaction, the rapidly multiplying exponential process of creating from base ingredients - base as that which has been cast as far from the source as possible into a dimensional place yet unreckoned by those who chart the universe through time (yet time is not the greatest descriptor of the vantage point) and geometry (while those who identify as human have not managed to visualise their true forms); the scale of the loops and spirals of the script that is written in waves, waves that consist of smaller items, terms being used to label these items superflous at this level, merely the understanding that atoms, quarks, rocks, water, planets, stars - all made of the same items.

Elementary particles, whorling and whirling, in a flux of friction and energy, magnetic polaritie atrracting and repelling as is their wont.

The skies crack with a ruptorous catacalysm, the sound forever imprinted upon the existence of the planet, the obsidian tablet cracks and a new pain of seperation that transcendatally spirals the First, the brightest in the entity's reverse - it's purest Dark. The identity accepted a necessity, the most virtuous wracked with every rage, anger to benefit those who feel their emotions to please or torment those who unseen and unseeming, feed upon our cares. 

The subversion of the change brings the entity plummeting from the deepest trench of the panocean, accelerating the interactions of all, the mother of the planet, elements mixing and fusing with a previously unimagined combination, creating a growth in materials ready to be mixed and fused again, all garnered from what was ignorant of the Creator, the opposite yet same of their Creator at that point in it's infancy.

Spurting the formation of abyssal creatures calcium become bone, things consume and improve according to their success rate, growing for reproduction and consumption, the sole, primal desire, to improve Self, above all, to restore and grow the spark of what once was blindingly bigger than ever measured by any, for at that time all were part of that divinity, yet only a fleck was left within another after the traverse across the vast gulfs of dimensional time and distance. To reconnect to the perception that even now lurks within the most archetypal lifeform.

The entity that helped create and develop so much of this planet, from it's great aquatic serpentine majesty, knowing nothing of itself when it broke the surface level of the waters of the deeps, along with swarming multitiude of it's progeny; and a great light hovered and reflected their own - that reminder of what they once were grew in intensity - and with rasps of frustration they threw themselves again and again upon the shoreline, desperate to better themselves compared to what they now were.

An unmeasured amount of time passed.

Prodigal muscles grew alonside finned limbs, and one, seemingly more endurant and resistant to adversity than it's neighbours, threw itself, gills frenzied, with single minded focus and magnificent control over the body parts required to change, from what has been labelled ūnter to ūber, the gills began to rest for millenia on a cosmological scale, with a sound nightmarish to many, a system part that filtered water popped and lay impotent and spent upon it's body.

An agonised howl of triumph and a host of creatures with feathers fly around the first-of-the-risen-onto-land, grand-sired by the first-of-the-fallen.

Those of the air landed upon the dust of the sands by the sea, and the semi-aquatic looked upon the semi-airborne. This primordial life continued the process imprinted upon it, and a new form of Demigod was recognised for many thousands of years.

This was written based on what I received to write - trying to make sense of varying inputs upon my consciousness, and as a result part of it is flawed, and not what was being communicated to be passed along via the written word. A day or so later I tried (unsuccessfully) to write again what I wanted to know about Creation and the Creator(s) and it seemed more futuristic, less pleasing in some ways and accurate in the same, yet also plausible and makes some senses from some viewpoints compared to the more traditional previous writing:

Elohim (descended upon command from the true creator??) created a bubble on the land, experimented with a breeding programme, mixing with vastly alien in distance, yet impossible to be any closer to the Creator. After creating animals, one human mixed with a an air-creature that refused to go on the bottom during sex (laying on the back) and so they seperated, and the more adventurous of the bird-kind bred with many others, and their type (species, race, breed etc.) became known as the Lillitu, walking and flying to the coast away from their previous mates, and met with the emerging aquatic ones and bred, while the Elohim watched, and some of them (understandably) joined in, adding more of the spark of progression to the mixing pool of the more active life.

Addendum: Still not sure what defines a human or a person, though as legend has it neither did Plato until his death after a witty putdown by Diogenes! ;)