Year Beginnings

The very first sentence of the above has informed many things for me in this life. It has been a kind of a mantram for me. When I used to do team and personal development courses I found that detailed and impeccable attention to the start impacted outcome. When the balance was right things flowed well. On the occasions that someone messed with this preparation the course “went wrong”. A simple thing unbalanced at the start unleashed a chaos. People failed to appreciate this…The idea was to start “tight” and then allow things to unfold and expand. A natural flow, a natural mystic.

This year has started with a dream of an end, a death, my death. It has pointed at ancient Tibetan anthropology and legend. Of mild interest yes. Of real current world applicability to me, probably not. I do not move in circles where anything might be propagated. It is like a hint from an otherworld. It is very unlikely that Macron and the Dalai Lama have been discussing my future. Life on the compound will continue much as is. No biggie…

The surgeon was satisfied with his handiwork and I am due a follow up appointment with a different surgeon in March to discuss the cut and splice of my other leg. I have some ongoing physiotherapy. Aside from that currently the number density of medical appointments has fallen to a low. A bit of relative peace and quiet looks on the cards.

We have started the DIY tasks around the house and I have an exhortation to walk to help improve the use of my “new” bionic hip.

Maybe today I’ll try to use the sit on mower. This was prohibitively painful before the operation. If that works then we can save on the gardening fees…

The dreaming rate seems to have fallen from one every three days…to much a more sparse occurrence.

During the night I had a question:

“Is dreaming unidirectional? If I dream of someone do they dream of me?”

If you look on the internet you can find stoner questions. They ask things like:

“What do teeth taste like? Do everyone’s teeth taste differently?”

“If you have a Ph.D., does every meeting you go to become a doctor’s appointment?”

Far out man…

All that highfalutin stuff looks to be a simple curiosity to have a brief gander at and then move on…

The Not Invented Here Syndrome

I’ll kick this off with a statement

People are evangelical about the comprehensive nature of their self-diagnosed omniscience.

They are convinced that they know best and seek to promote and otherwise sell their approach(es). After all education is a business and bums on seats keep the pennies flowing into coffers. Religion too is a business and the treasuries must be kept full. Politics too is a business. In all of these cash flow is important. Self-marketing is important for livelihood. One must strive for supremacy and market domination.

I have encountered and been repulsed by the not invented here syndrome many times which can be paraphrased,

“We know best, fuck off with your strange and foreign ideas!! We love Status Quo.”

I once met a young man who tried to persuade me that Vajrayana practice was very difficult, like scaling a cliff. It was very hard but promised high gain yet the risks of falling and getting very badly hurt were high. He was showing off a little. I thought to myself, “try the warrior’s path sunshine and that might change your attitude…”

It is all a bit cock wavy. “My path is harder and more macho than yours!”

If you read and consider deeply the aphorism from the rule of the three pronged nagal above you can see that it is not facile or shallow. This insight comes from direct experiential contact with The VOID. It is a part of the inner subjective teachings of the Toltec schema. Perhaps akin by extrapolation to inner Kalachakra.

I have joked that I am a quantum yogi, in a geek-yogi superposition state. As such I am suspected by scientists and suspected by yogis because I not one thing or the other. I am not pure. Like the driven snow I am tainted by other thought forms. Yuk!!

I probably am quite well placed to do a balanced compare and contrast for many different ways of thinking.

Sometimes one needs more than verbatim translation to carry across meaning. People can argue when in fact they are in agreement.

They are just not willing to listen with an open mind and a willingness to find common ground…

The call of the soap box can be irresistible…

Cockney have name like Treey, Arthur and Del-boy
We have name like Winston, Lloyd and Leroy
We bawl out YOW! While cockneys say OI!
What cockney call a Jack’s we call a Blue Bwoy
Say cockney have mates while we have spar
Cockney live in a drum while we live in a yard
Say we nyam while cockney get capture
Cockney say guv’nor. We say Big Bout ya
In a de Cockney Translation!
In a de Cockney Translation!

Smiley Culture

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Two Babies – Lingpa – Dream Snippet – 15-01-2026

Here is last night’s dream snippet had around 2 AM. It was somehow important to retain and I wrote the word lingpa down on a yellow post it note before taking my medication and putting the coffee on. The idea being that I would ask Google later.

The dream starts in a poorly lit dwelling. The ceiling is not high and I can smell smoke from a fire at the far end of the room. There are a mother and family there. They are dressed in heavy dark coloured clothes. Standing there in an animal fur jacket and with a hat with ear flaps is a taller man who has a presence of some power. He is armed.

He is looking down onto a roughly hewn crib in which are two babies swaddled in cloth and wrapped tightly up like an envelope. Their heads are also tightly wrapped. They have ruddy cheeks and dark eyes. The woman says to the man, “here are the babies, the twins”. I can see the man from the cot and the babies from the man.

 He says that they are Lingpa, ling-pa. That he will take one to the monastery and one to be raised normally. I know in the dream as a baby that he is talking about me-us. I know that the dream is ago. I know that even if we are separated we are two sides of the same. We are connected intimately.

The woman is a little in awe of him. He says that he will return and that for now nothing must be said.

As I am coming to I know that I have to remember the word Lingpa. I do not know what it means and wonder if it is one of the various schools of Tibetan Buddhism. It seems familiar but not.

I wake and drift off again.

Several times during the night and in the dreaming I recall the word and sound Lingpa.

——————–

gling pa

གླིང་པ
Lingpa (title of great tertons, person on a continent/ island, sanctuary [IW]

1) usual title of great tertons. 2) people on a continent. 3) sanctuary. 4) Lingpa [RY]

Lingpa. A title usually appended to the name of a terton, revealer of concealed treasures. Literally, it means ‘sanctuary’ of peace and happiness for beings [RY]

Source – https//rywiki.tsadra.org/index.php/gling_pa

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Impermanence – Cop Out or Motivation?

The trouble is you think you have time...

Siddhartha Gautama

I have paraphrased here something I read in the Dhammapada. In this the notion that there is always tomorrow or mañana and demain is hinted at. People can put things off over and over. This especially  true of anything which is inconvenient. Even though they know that they need to address something they put it off. People can justify inaction to themselves rather than put themselves out or do something positive perhaps transformative. The safety of the unpleasant status quo of life is so tempting; the inertia of sameness is like a duvet. The fear of risk forbids any reward for courage.

It is evident that life is impermanent. Everyone without exception dies. Which means that allotted time is finite.

It is easy to fall into the trap of “hey man all is impermanent” and use that as a cop out for not doing anything. If nothing lasts, nothing matters, so why bother? If  all of life is an illusion then why interact, why take part?

It is easy to take an overly passive view on karma. If everything is pre-ordained and fated because of past actions why try to ameliorate? That is a gist of karma. At some stage you have to interact in a meaningful way to work with your karma and acquire karmic merit. You have to learn the lessons that karma has in store and which you have selected for yourself by your actions. Karma is there to teach. You need to learn your lessons otherwise you repeat your folly ad infinitum.

Impermanence teaches that you have little or no time in which to act and yet you must not be obsessed about result or outcome because these are not permanent or real.

It is easy to get the balance wrong and be overly dismissive and fatalistic or to try to force things to fit how you want them to be and thereby create more karma. If you put things off you are deciding so to do. Procrastination cannot work on karma.

You have no time, much less leisure than you imagine, so get busy but do so without obsession or desire for guarantee. Impermanence teaches that all forms of obsession are folly. It also teaches that you have little time to figure out what it is you need to learn and then to seek out those lessons.

In any given life, time is not a luxury which one in reality has.

Copping out because things are impermanent is copping out, it is a form or “reasoned” and “excused” inertia and avoidance.

Whereas impermanence might encourage you not to waste a single second of your allotted time.

Working with impermanence as a fact to acquire skill and discernment is a very profound and meaningful practice.

Impermanece teaches balance and the middle way.

Gateway to the Nagual’s World – South the place of Dreaming

In my case, don Juan wanted an omen before he taught me the ritual. That omen came when don Juan and I were driving through a border town in Arizona and a policeman stopped me. The policeman thought I was an illegal alien. Only after I had shown him my passport, which he suspected of being a forgery, and other documents, did he let me go. Don Juan had been in the front seat next to me all the time, and the policeman had not given him a second glance. He had focused solely on me. Don Juan thought the incident was the omen he was waiting for.

His interpretation of it was that it would be very dangerous for me to call attention to myself, and he concluded that my world had to be one of utter simplicity and candor – elaborate ritual and pomp were out of character for me. He conceded, however, that a minimal observance of ritualistic patterns was in order when I made my acquaintance with his warriors. I had to begin by approaching them from the south, because that is the direction that power follows in its ceaseless flux. Life force flows to us from the south, and leaves us flowing toward the north. He said that the only opening to a Nagual’s world was through the south, and that the gate was made by two female warriors, who would have to greet me and would let me go through if they so decided.

He took me to a town in central Mexico, to a house in the countryside. As we approached it on foot from a southerly direction, I saw two massive Indian women standing four feet apart, facing each other. They were about thirty or forty feet away from the main door of the house, in an area where the dirt was hard-packed. The two women were extraordinarily muscular and stern. Both had long, jet-black hair held together in a single thick braid. They looked like sisters. They were about the same height and weight – I figured that they must have been around five feet four, and weighed 150 pounds. One of them was extremely dark, almost black, the other much lighter. They were dressed like typical Indian women from central Mexico – long, full dresses and shawls, homemade sandals.

Don Juan made me stop three feet from them. He turned to the woman on our left and made me face her. He said that her name was Cecilia and that she was a dreamer. He then turned abruptly, without giving me time to say anything, and made me face the darker woman, to our right. He said that her name was Delia and that she was a stalker. The women nodded at me. They did not smile or move to shake hands with me, or make any gesture of welcome. Don Juan walked between them as if they were two columns marking a gate. He took a couple of steps and turned as if waiting for the women to invite me to go through. The women stared at me calmly for a moment. Then Cecilia asked me to come in, as if I were at the threshold of an actual door.

Don Juan led the way to the house. At the front door we found a man. He was very slender. At first sight he looked extremely young, but on closer examination he appeared to be in his late fifties. He gave me the impression of being an old child: small, wiry, with penetrating dark eyes. He was like an elfish apparition, a shadow. Don Juan introduced him to me as Emilito, and said that he was his courier and all-around helper, who would welcome me on his behalf.

It seemed to me that Emilito was indeed the most appropriate being to welcome anyone. His smile was radiant; his small teeth were perfectly even. He shook hands with me, or rather he crossed his forearms and clasped both my hands. He seemed to be exuding enjoyment; anyone would have sworn that he was ecstatic in meeting me. His voice was very soft and his eyes sparkled.

We walked into a large room. There was another woman there. Don Juan said that her name was Teresa and that she was Cecilia’s and Delia’s courier. She was perhaps in her early thirties, and she definitely looked like Cecilia’s daughter. She was very quiet but very friendly. We followed don Juan to the back of the house, where there was a roofed porch.

It was a warm day. We sat there around a table, and after a frugal dinner we talked until after midnight. Emilito was the host. He charmed and delighted everyone with his exotic stories. The women opened up. They were a great audience for him. To hear the women’s laughter was an exquisite pleasure. They were tremendously muscular, bold, and physical. At one point, when Emilito said that Cecilia and Delia were like two mothers to him, and Teresa like a daughter, they picked him up and tossed him in the air like a child.

Of the two women, Delia seemed the more rational, down- to-earth. Cecilia was perhaps more aloof, but appeared to have greater inner strength. She gave me the impression of being more intolerant, or more impatient; she seemed to get annoyed with some of Emilito’s stories. Nonetheless, she was definitely on the edge of her chair when he would tell what he called his “tales of eternity.” He would preface every story with the phrase, ‘Do you, dear friends, know that. . . ?’

The story that impressed me most was about some creatures that he said existed in the universe, who were the closest thing to human beings without being human; creatures who were obsessed with movement and capable of detecting the slightest fluctuation inside themselves or around them. These creatures were so sensitive to motion that it was a curse to them. It gave them such pain that their ultimate ambition was to find quietude. Emilito would intersperse his tales of eternity with the most outrageous dirty jokes. Because of his incredible gifts as a raconteur, I understood every one of his stories as a metaphor, a parable, with which he was teaching us something.

 Don Juan said that Emilito was merely reporting about things he had witnessed in his journeys through eternity. The role of a courier was to travel ahead of the Nagual, like a scout in a military operation. Emilito went to the limits of the second attention, and whatever he witnessed he passed on to the others.

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From “The Eagle’s Gift” by Carlos Castaneda, Part Three.

  • The gate to our property is in the South. Currently there is a beat up Citroen there…

Third Omen – Not Coincidence…Dreaming Symbol

Last night just after dusk around 18:30 there was a large thud and a bang.  In the drive there was a small silver Citroen facing horizontally across. The car had hit the crash barrier and spun skidding over the verge and dropping about 1.5 metres THUD into our drive. The car was facing the steep slope and must have gone over the edge backwards. There was an animated young woman with dark hair and glasses talking to her mother on the ‘phone. She had a major fright.

It was getting a bit icy.

This is the third crash directly outside our property in a tad over six weeks!!

The odds on this are not likely.

It gets safer to conclude that this is NO coincidence.

She was unharmed and the air bags had failed to deploy. After a while her mother and another woman turned up. She was able to manoeuvre the car down the drive and onto some hard standing grass. It is there now iced up. Someone will come and pick up the abandoned car which is at least partially functional later today.

The sloping drive will be ice-rink-slippy until midday.

Three times now somebody else’s vehicle, state of awareness, has crashed outside our house, our view of the world.

This as dreaming symbols is suggesting that for person or persons unknown to us, their awareness, the way they perceive and align the word, has come to a sudden halt and crashed. Outside and near our house.

It was a bit of a car crash…

As the saying goes…