people to check out

Teorema
interesting this film- was just released into the us, despite being made in 1968 or something. the director- has interesting take on sexuality- as passion. he was also homosexual.

Visitor Q Takashii Mike film

she is my hearts faintest touch
like ancient rivers drybed across the brown tierra
somewhere in my heart sleeps the closing of her eyes

the betal leaf across her forehead

she passes like an arrow through my heart

memories

it would be nice to have one of those balconies with a long scape over the top, like a canopy but complete so the rain does not get you wet . be nice to smoke a cigarette watching the rain come down all over. i enjoy those car rides when i was a child and would see the rain drops racing across the window.

love inside a woman trembles, that is why when leaving her child, her son- she cries; the stoic silence of man .. it is not greater than her , her mother nature, keep your ear close to the earth as you travel in life. infinite strength swishes inside the feminine power. it is within the man, but it sits like honey inside a rock. a mothers tears holds tremendous energy. men think their physical aptitude is adroitly derived. love is the fabric of creation. it is that the usual mind cannot grasp like the physicist who marvels at time, acceleration, and moving celestial bodies. behind the fabric of this creation is the eternal of love, the Beloved whose will holds the very atoms together. someday science will grasp that even the atom is infinity deep and that vibration energy is more subtle than just magnetic. in true essence, the motherhood of women is more deadly arsenal than bombs and weapons. when it manifests it has tremendous awakening potential. why is that men are prone to heart attacks and in frequency? women are shock-absorbers. inside a being is both aspects feminine and masculine, but when these are divinely touched they produce along side natural harmonious idiosyncrasies. feminine energy is the deep love within the being, that is the root of life,the child if before the age of five, is inflicted under tremendous negativity will have ever lasting effects. these karmic vibrations will last into their youth and adulthood. only the chance meeting of a divine soul, is a complete change in life's path- that is life moving the planets. it is not an exaggeration. the trouble with the lesser learned is that they make complicated choices ,but have vastly simply ideas on the deeper fine movements of life. the author of the Ramayana, is suspect to such intervention, to so call it. he was like commonly, told , a robber or thief who turned into a master prose man, in fact greater than any of the world. These epic tales, are more complex, longer, spiritually insightful than any historical parchment, or religious text. That tells scores about his accomplishment. Buddha too had a disciple who was a bandit. but there are more recent examples, great masters walk the earth, but only a handful have the karmic opportunity and insight to see them. they are not invisible neither glowing like in any depiction. it requires a fair amount - in a person to muster, the will to move spiritually. the heart has to be cleansed, from the age of time- which decays through the vices inherited by living . that is why so few have the subtle aural vibrations to detect great beings. a subtle being will recognize immediately , the great space inside such eyes. spirituality is dead to most of the world. if it is not hurled out to the mass media in new age concept books of old age wisdom, then its flash photography to iconography. that seed of love, lies every dormant inside every man . it does not simply take sprout, but by self-reflection, and mending along the arduous spiritual trek , finds oneself strong, from deep meditation, full of softness , [from the touch of a gentle master], and like fire, from association or satsang. the lion of the outside, and the flower on the inside has deeper connotations. by spiritual grace, the grace, of divine love- one achieves from effort and perspiration , the softness, the nectar of the Eternal Beloved, that is why most people do not know god as Beloved. they simply know or say a god. or this and that. in sufi poetry, in the hindu continent, you see the poetry and madness of divine ardour. these descriptions, these people are the only ones to have truly kissed the lips of the Divine Mother. they are not illusions or parables, trying to tell a story. they are trying to tell the divine through human interaction; that is why in the seven types of relationships all are expressed in their poertry. Sultan Bahu, from the punjab region, a great sufi saint, had such passionate and vivid lines. the blood that stains such a heart ! how few understand the tears that leave such eyes. how graced is the world, by such vibrations. A great master once said, it is the vibrations of all those people in the world, living simple lives spiritually, giving more than receiving, and loving all those who come in their path, those performing deep meditation and practices, giving alms , and having little to onself while in full radiance and happiness, it is these simple pure souls that hold the world together. their spiritual vibrations invigorate the atmosphere. this is not an elaborate construction . rain, moisture, air, these things are all affected by mantras- and all words, actions. mantras have to be careful about. out of context it is not beneficial. spirituality is a deep ocean of a subject. there are many things, while you travel, and only when you are traveling can you understand them. sitting at the post, wondering about the sights and reading about them, cannot give you the same experience nor does it elevate you. no one who as meet a true master, will openly tell you about them. that relationship is deep, an ever current in the divine lake, the pathway toward enlightenment. it must be gently prod from them for inside such a soul is a deep flower whose stalks grow the Master's name, and fondness that rides into the blood and moves out toxins. yogi's have been seen who are immaculately clean but have never bathes, whose teeth have not stained due to lack of harsh foods. the average person does meet them. would a great mathematician be excited to meet children who simply want to awe but not understand the subject he adores. no. that is why great beings are said to be shy. not of themselves, but the others. but like honey, they attract those who want to drink from her lake.

story part ii


the waves seemed to go on. blue after sky is all my blurry holes could peer out. a knife had pressed into my back. the third goon, the lesser of the uglier ones- he still had strange gashes and what looked the upkeep of a sailor lost at sea, without need for grooming. we still made metal shillets at the monastery i was at. a host of activity, soaps , brushes, metal tools, fillings, teeth, were crafted by men who spent means by such acquired to entertain themselves. and as i was thinking of the last hot meal, which had bubbled its last strength into that searing red gush across my shoulder, made clearly apparent in the golden light, that nothing was escaping that day. i gave out a large gulp of pain, as miserable teeth grinned in all lost recognition at me. only thing i knew that saved me, was the large black paladin cross across my neck. when the pirate saw that, all i remember was a loud clud from a black iron handle swing across my face and make a nasty sound. i woke up on the southeastern shore of what seemed to be quite piece and parcel of sand and tree. the bruises seemed to bathe in the sand filling cracks in between as i lay still watching the wind push a jetty far out into the fading sun. that cross which i had received from a black slave, was very unique. he said he got it on a pilgrimage to a very large space. space is what he said. he drew in the sand , a quick sketch of a temple, with a big steps leading down to the sanctorum. i had never seen it. but somehow i knew where it was. why it was represented on the swinging t on his neck. he said it was the true savior, that he found, and like the darkened skin that gave dawn to his eyes, was the same of he who born out the suffering . it was all very strange. when your drugged, beaten, and lack of hunger , what stories they tell to keep alive; i never did. never spoke much. had my tongue stabbed when i was eight by a rough muslim officer in the army passing through our town. it was a small town. but i had that day , had an incident.. which rioted the long beared man to act hastily, something i remembered.. for a long time.

we were sold on to that island has slaves. but for profit or flesh, most of those who they towed away did not make it to where they were meant to go. by my cross, i was made to be some red blood priest mixed up . mesquito i call it. the empires i would visit in later years will give testimony to this in the future. the knife that had come into my back now stepped forward into my thoughts. i had stabbed the large ugly scarred man with a long filing pole used to beat fish left in the boat , it had lent the hand free from her neck, and dive hard .

what does it mean when intelligence hits a certain affinity. for example takashi miike. his films are talked about, his style called subtle, deep whatever other horse of adjectives boqued. but his style has given something, talked about- because it has originated an art of personality and intense interest. i hope to give to art in some manner. to become accomplished for ones own satisfaction is a great regard, to get lost into the quagmire of this illusion upsets the talents.