Bien, ya se ha dicho en tiempos antiguos, incluso en el remoto Egipto, que la legislación no es sino yeso para tapar la brecha de un muro. Lo cual signifíca que la política jamás será capaz de conseguir la harmonía entre la gente. Esto se debe a que el verdadero problema, la principal fuente de inquietud humana, tine que ver con la presencia del alma, los misterios del porvenir, las razones cósmicas de la muerte.
En los tiempos antiguos seguramente existió una creencia verdadera, transmitida a la humanidad mediate las enseñanzas herméticas, es decir los misterios de iniciación practicados por los llamados terapéutas helénicos y, al mismo tiempo y aún anteriormente, por los antiguos egipcios. Los libros de los misterios de Hermes Trimegisto, el libro de los muertos de los egipcios
y el de los tibetanos, el Bagdava Gita, el poéma inca de las naves de oro, son todo parte de una religión antigua universal, aunque con las diversidades lógicas otorgadas por la individualidad de cada cultúra. ¿y cual era el propósito de las religiones, por así llamarlas, origínales? Bien, lo que alentaba tras todas ellas era la nostalgia de la atribulada, mortal humanidad por volver a su origen, a su hogar, a la paz del principio. En cada una de esas filosofías del espíritu es pivotal la creencia de que la llama que aníma a la materia proviene de un estado, o lugar, inmaterial. cuanto más se indaga en la historia cercana al origen de las cosas, más obvio parece que aquellos antiguos eran recipientes de alguna sabiduría que nosotros, la gente moderna, hemos perdido, y en la cual, por ser tan distante a nuestras preocupaciones cotidianas, no queremos pensar. Sin embargo, toda nuestra cultúra está influenciada por religiones falsas, por nociones tergiversadas de una verdad perdida en el tiempo. Podría decirse que la causa de todas las guerras, de todos los conflictos que nos castigan a lo largo de los siglos, proceden de las falsas filosofías, o más bien las filosofías maleadas, tergiversadas, que todas las religiones modernas han impuestro sobre nosotros, escondiendo verdades esenciales, para guardar el poder. Nos preguntamos por qué la percepción mística de grandes revolucionarios del espíritu se convierte de pronto en una jerarquía, regida por poderosos que mantienen intelectúal y fisicamente sometidos a sus seguidores. No solo la iglésia católica, sino la musulmana, la judía etc... se ha pasado los últimos siglos elaborando formas de mantener el poder a través de la tergiversación de la verdad teológica-¿ Y cual es es verdad? preguntaréis. Aquí está: la verdadera religión no es un culto necesariamente, sino una serie de ejercicios que deben llevarse a cabo de acuerdo con ciertas fórmulas, en las que uno debe ser iniciado por sabios, sacerdotes, maestros o como queráis llamarlos. Las verdaderas religiones están ahí para liberar al ser humano, y el resultado de sus simbologías y rituales es otorgarle la libertad original de viajar entre el mundo de la materia y el de los espíritus. De eso se tratan los grandes misterios de la pirámides: lugares de iniciación, donde todo propiciaba al ritual del viaje astral, a la visita al más allá. Sí, las religiones verdaderas estan empapadas de fórmulas para que los iniciados experimenten en vida el pasaje entre este mundo y el inmaterial. Y por todo el mundo, como veréis si echais un vistazo a la reciente historía de la arqúeología, hay dispersos lugares donde los rituales pertinentes se oficiaban.
Es muy interesante lo que a raíz de las investigaciones de los rollos del Mar Muerto, hallados en las famosas cuevas de Qúmram por un beduíno que buscaba una oveja perdida, asi como las revelaciones contenidas en otros pergaminos milenarios, del tiempo de los cristianos primitivos, encontrados en remotos lugares de Egipto, Etiopía,etc..
Jesús, aparentement críado por zelotes, o judios ortodoxos dispuestos a deshacerse del yugo de Roma por medio de la violencia, fué llevado a egipto por su familia a raíz de violentas persecuciones llevadas a cabo por Roma contra esos revolucionarios hebreos, que acabarían en la masacre de Masada. Aquellos años pasados en egipto, de los cuales los Evangelios lo omiten todo, probablemente los pasó en un casi desconocido templo del Delta del Nilo, construido por el sacerdote exiliado Onias III, o su hijo, Onías IV. Este monasterio era muy especial, pues su razón de ser era reemplazaral de Jerusalén que había sido arrasado. Sin embargo, la proximidad con los viejos cultos egipcios había influeciado mucho a este enclave judío, y existías unas enormes diferencias entre los ritos que allí se llevaban a cabo y los típicos impuestos por la Tora de losmjudios de la época. Para empezar, las mujeres eran iguales a los hombres en la busqueda del reíno de Dios. La naturaleza de dicho reíno fue lo que causó eventualmente la muerte de Jesús, ya que su mandato era iniciar a sus seguidores en los ritos herméticos de las religiones antiguas, por medio de los cuales un ser aún vivo puede reconocer y visitar el más allá, el reino de dios, o la verdadera vida. Los zelotes esperaban que el mesías les deparar libertad de roma y poder propio, pero Jesús era un revolucionario del espíritu, que predicaba cómo entrar en el más allá y comunicarse con la esencia de la creación, de la divinidad. Por eso precisamente el vaticano mantiene en absoluto secreto la información contenida en estos pergaminos que datan de la época de Cristo, y hacen lo posible para que los pilares de la religión cristiana sigan siendo cuatro escritos muy posteriores a Jesús, y manipulados a lo largo del tiempo.
viernes, 29 de octubre de 2010
domingo, 8 de agosto de 2010
ONION
I could try to find me
in the deepest of things.
For instance, in an onion:
How I go about cutting it.
No one slices an onion
like anyone. The way
of moving the knife, the pressure
applied to the blade.
What one thinks
while dividing its form
into thin wheels:
that the onion does not bleed.
that it looks just like ice.
That everyone, since people cook,
has cut onions.
The onion is a moon- the moon
may be an onion.
Somehow the world would be
something else without onions.
And onions reflect us
inescapably.
Did you ever bother placing
an onion, having peeled it,
upon a black table
with nothing else,
in tne middle of a dusky room?
Then you have understood
that an onion is a brief
sphere of white light,
a strange organism
more beautiful perhaps
than a woman´s face or a flower.
If you have contemplated
the snowy sheen of an onion
in the dark,
then you know that, within it,
there are half seen worlds,
lakes under mist,
remote hamlets, where
live people of minute size.
You also know that some onions
are sad as the unattainable
or tombs
for beautiful dead midgets,
or wintry woods,
intricate kaleidoscopes
of black branches and icicles
about which the blue ravens
draw their circular flight.
in the deepest of things.
For instance, in an onion:
How I go about cutting it.
No one slices an onion
like anyone. The way
of moving the knife, the pressure
applied to the blade.
What one thinks
while dividing its form
into thin wheels:
that the onion does not bleed.
that it looks just like ice.
That everyone, since people cook,
has cut onions.
The onion is a moon- the moon
may be an onion.
Somehow the world would be
something else without onions.
And onions reflect us
inescapably.
Did you ever bother placing
an onion, having peeled it,
upon a black table
with nothing else,
in tne middle of a dusky room?
Then you have understood
that an onion is a brief
sphere of white light,
a strange organism
more beautiful perhaps
than a woman´s face or a flower.
If you have contemplated
the snowy sheen of an onion
in the dark,
then you know that, within it,
there are half seen worlds,
lakes under mist,
remote hamlets, where
live people of minute size.
You also know that some onions
are sad as the unattainable
or tombs
for beautiful dead midgets,
or wintry woods,
intricate kaleidoscopes
of black branches and icicles
about which the blue ravens
draw their circular flight.
lunes, 31 de mayo de 2010
sight
Give the fear back
to the sun
give the fear back to the man,
to the earth and to the god,
give the fear back
to the teacher
to the doctor
and the shrink
back to whom put it in you.
to the father, to the mother
and the door you could not open,
and the house of the suicide
and the dog
foaming at the mouth
hold nobody´s hand when walking,
love no one and hate nobody.
be alone.
be alone through life and death
and fear nothing
give the fear back to your blood,
give the fear back to your mind,
to the man who gave it to you
long ago
give the fear back to the book
to the knowledge in the book
which is nothing,
to the temple and the truth
which is a lie, give the fear
back,
and remain empty,
empty of thought or expectation,
empty of guilt and of redemption,
turn away from shades of angels
and be alone,
be alone until the wind
that comes out of the great sea
may for nothingness mistake you
and upon its currents take you
to the End
give your fear away forever
today
to the sun
give the fear back to the man,
to the earth and to the god,
give the fear back
to the teacher
to the doctor
and the shrink
back to whom put it in you.
to the father, to the mother
and the door you could not open,
and the house of the suicide
and the dog
foaming at the mouth
hold nobody´s hand when walking,
love no one and hate nobody.
be alone.
be alone through life and death
and fear nothing
give the fear back to your blood,
give the fear back to your mind,
to the man who gave it to you
long ago
give the fear back to the book
to the knowledge in the book
which is nothing,
to the temple and the truth
which is a lie, give the fear
back,
and remain empty,
empty of thought or expectation,
empty of guilt and of redemption,
turn away from shades of angels
and be alone,
be alone until the wind
that comes out of the great sea
may for nothingness mistake you
and upon its currents take you
to the End
give your fear away forever
today
domingo, 30 de mayo de 2010
A step this side of the light
When you are on dialysis you live a double life. You are like a bat who goes flying around for a while and then you return to the dark quiet cave where your blood is recycled, away from the eyes of those who know you. It is like keeping a secret. Some people regard you as a mysterious entity, not quiet human, because you spend a lot of time hooked to a machine in order to survive, and that makes you a little subterranean: a little subaquatic, rather. Those on dialysis are like a school of fish, emerging into the light after a stay in the cold chill water at bottom of the sea.
When I lay in the metal bed with the tubes driving the blood slowly into and out of my veins through long needles, the deep, monotonous gargling sound of the machine cleansing the blood in my ears, I fall into a sort of trance. My mind wanders. It frees itself from the flesh, somehow, and travels places and sees things from the past, and sometimes from the future. People like to think of disease as a physical state, yet it is largely a journey of the mind, the spirit. At all times the mind dances on the tight rope and senses the possibility of death. It is not impossible to perceive, as if out of the corner of one´s eye, flowing of spectres nearby.
The supernatural is involved in everything that happens to a person. We refuse to admit it, for the sake of solidity in life, for the sake of sanity, but then there are those moments when a fleeting shadow crosses before our eyes and leaves us trembling with an ,undefinable sadness, a fear, because we have been tapped on the shoulder by a cold hand, the hand of someone no longer in the physical world, or when we have dream which cannot be explained by any form of reasoning.For some weeks before I was diagnosed witn end stage kidney failure, I had a reocurring dream, in which I saw a large, very healthy looking vampire bat sucking the blood from a cow with a sort of dumb relish. Its fur had an amazing copper lustre. I know now that the beast was a symbol for the machine which would soon be ingesting and regurgitating my altered blood, my treacherous blood.
When I lay in the metal bed with the tubes driving the blood slowly into and out of my veins through long needles, the deep, monotonous gargling sound of the machine cleansing the blood in my ears, I fall into a sort of trance. My mind wanders. It frees itself from the flesh, somehow, and travels places and sees things from the past, and sometimes from the future. People like to think of disease as a physical state, yet it is largely a journey of the mind, the spirit. At all times the mind dances on the tight rope and senses the possibility of death. It is not impossible to perceive, as if out of the corner of one´s eye, flowing of spectres nearby.
The supernatural is involved in everything that happens to a person. We refuse to admit it, for the sake of solidity in life, for the sake of sanity, but then there are those moments when a fleeting shadow crosses before our eyes and leaves us trembling with an ,undefinable sadness, a fear, because we have been tapped on the shoulder by a cold hand, the hand of someone no longer in the physical world, or when we have dream which cannot be explained by any form of reasoning.For some weeks before I was diagnosed witn end stage kidney failure, I had a reocurring dream, in which I saw a large, very healthy looking vampire bat sucking the blood from a cow with a sort of dumb relish. Its fur had an amazing copper lustre. I know now that the beast was a symbol for the machine which would soon be ingesting and regurgitating my altered blood, my treacherous blood.
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