From: "Sterling Hart" <Pravritti-AT-email.msn.com> Subject: Ranja 4 Date: Thu, 25 May 2000 09:05:57 +0100 This is a multi-part message in MIME format. 4 Ranja Quietly driving watching the petty angers The odd kinship of a shared situation. Sometime one, sometimes the other As if a switch were throne. Within my body's protection Or in the subtle state directly perceived Wave after wave of hatred came Into the golden light of Kali's smile. Undisturbed it shined compassionately Insecurities, angers and arguments, Depressions, sadnesses, I felt in the distance, Heard their voices on the edges of my mind. The abysmal the black The failure It was the poem Of the quadriplegic triple amputee Who returned from the eastern front Homeless Family dead To Germany. I strode in a plane of distant mountains Taller than mountains can be With a grove of single leafed trees Umbrella palms In the hanging gardens of the Mother Her force flew me in to the white temple Snow blinded by stones. The flowers held knowledge. Each a spiritual aspiration they were the expression of karmic events manifesting the history of the earth. In splendorous colors unsensored Too vast for my comprehension The glimpses were feelings, notes Of vast symphonies in harmony. All the worlds music in a many petaled bliss. Nada. Bindu. Here a green circle of moss translated me to times past A sun compass of life A temporal intervention The transcendent, universal, individual Changed your fate. Kali's ray Continuum of manifestation The soul touch of Ranja Universalized beyond time The changes divine Like a rewritten memory. The book of the prophets appeared facing me on a shelf. Its spine to the front It had turned its back on me Showing me its cover It was a pineapple beaver On a deep desert dune. An enslaver from a forgotten novel. It was the truth of a falsehood Recognition of God in the falsehood The working of truth that was wrong. Shiva's trident held a house plant upright, But it had grown free and reached out for the light. Jai Guru Devi! Jai Maheshwari! Prophetic modalities in times past and future shaping The past written with the future known as an original unfolding. It was is will. There was the power of the full vision worked into a limited Maya of a moment. The technology of consciousness held in living organisms The ones of conscious adaptation of the biosphere on earth. Self-consciousness nature expressing itself through the new species. It held itself with a harmony and spoke to each life Each life contributing to the self-conscious whole As one body of the earth. Not a nature preserve regulated by mentalities Not a lawn mowed or a pretty garden sowed. It knew and spoke with roots to bacteria It organized the ants and the wildflowers Found the atmosphere incense and prana An instrument of the truth light, No longer simply grasping at the sun. It illuminated all things Even bringing forth the darkness. There was the active expression towards a specific end. The mask of influence given domain. The masked scales could do no justice for the murdered self. An expression that created not a purpose, That held no truth in its own light An unconscious crucible for other to say. It created the space where others found their power. She had never known spiritual love Only an affection and possession. Possessed by it. She had sought but not discovered her spiritual wealth A mirror of her being not a vanity of her ego. For a week in England she talked about her past She Said, Vajrayogini Understanding the rising image of herself Through the feedback And strangled it with the same theme Of non acceptance. Her mother looming large in the shadow of her death. For years you wrote to me For years I helped your mother Supporting you When I rested you hospitalized her. I tired in the black image of you that arose. You were no longer giving. You had become like her. I saw you come shortly after you died The body of you with the expression of horror. The horror came many times only to meet the loving eyes. I could see the rotting pig head on the mantel above the fire. The sheaths, vital and physical losing form The hold on people was gone. They began to adapt to a fallen tree An untended meadow. Agni was within me Keeping me warm and passionate. My own image of you in which I carried The light, threading lines of forces, Now dimmed and distorted Reflected the concentration. The identity displayed elements that decayed. My heart released energies. I called and they returned >From the stage as it was torn down. He had given the teachings For protection to those who healing. I had sought evolution, Sita protected me. My first sign was the owl of death. The one who had physically appeared so many times Only now was a picture on a pop machine In the Minneapolis airport. A sign. She kept him after the affair to be useful And ignored his frequent advances. She watched him schedule his wife around her. She was not interested in him, in that, In seeing him at his flat, She was interested in him doing things to help her. She kept him. She mothered him as herself. Was I there to see her? She by passed the boyfriend To create the space for me. Was he an anchor to a life away from India Unseen for months? You did not go to him when he returned. You said it was over before I left. A stable point of disapproval To her mother's racist issues of social acceptance That is the reality. I disbelieved not unlike Orpheus. She couldn't see in my eyes. My digital picture shows a wrinkle line Prominent around her neck. Following a trail of spent lightening bolts I found Ram's quiver. To the deer of the forest And the women of tomorrow The dance was a blinding. The God triumphant glory Was experienced in its degrees As individual truths realized themselves One by one. It was no God that approached her but a vanity Of brilliant mental illumination. Vivek turned to the task of pecking The wounded chickens of the self. Critical Mass of mentality Worse then the Pope of science edicting the influence of the stars In the genetic profiles of diet habits and exercises. Dispositions to be dispossessed Gaveled rhythms in the sky. Knowledge had no place when the world is false. Energy had no call unless the full knowledge is realized. It was a time of insidious lies. Does the mudra, rhythm and mantra hold a key To the devotional powers that transform our heart? Create a movement based on classical training. >From the ego display and control Milk of fame Milk of travel and importance. Does it give shape to the consciousness? To the body? The character? The drives of our passions? Anger and desire mixed and fueled by the fires of movements Yet these movements can return as the faithful expression of the body. The locked up imbalances of our memories expressed The soulful lesion denied into cancer. It was no cancer She denied it to me. She denied it to an unborn child To the changes of careers that others were to make. Don't even mention it. She didn't. A clever political manipulation to avoid the stigma? I witnessed my friend fall sick to waves of anger The killing of her self had not found a space in my love. That sailed to the real light of the spirit That I saw within Within us all. The forces struck me as a shadow the sun And crept into weak places Where mother and daughters seanced the dead And stole secrets with the forms enduring for awhile behind the veil. A phone call from an acquaintance the morning she fell sick with the flu Awakened nightmares of Ranja and her whips. To say it was cancer. The message didn't reach me, But it acted on her. To the dead we owe respect, to the living we only owe the truth? Death is the falsehood Past memories its lingers to say no more. It was the attempt to sing Sitaji's praises when she looks up to you in humility. For the truth is my eternal gratitude to the Divine. The ordinary divinity Of the mustard weed Seeded into the light of Christ's New Kingdom. A windup environment told you what it meant to be Indian-American, Stage fancy, Incredible body of desire's movements. Reflections upon the outer call You found the found Critical mental Mass The teaching for the sleeping That everyone denied. The politic infested meditation center Of the Swadistana That asked whether you could use myth In the seminar in Amsterdam. As you found the ego indulged pieces Integrated The token third world dancer On committee Of the modern tradition. You said of your spirit Revealed The threat in the theater of a scary movie Is not a Christian thrown to the lions But Krishna's dishonor in the war. A prophetic modality of time The environmental power of the spirit Intimidating the rivals Attracting mates play. Through the fossilized time We see the display. Seed of the ancestors Spear of the hunter Slave of the past >From body to body mothers. This momentum moved The self-moved prime dancer changed time the soul touched universal dancer. I found it again after you were gone At Anindoji's mastery An echo of you came through Touched me lightly Through the clouded voices Of your spiritual failure And your opera tune Homicide. You projected on me not your teacher (Cassandra] You display your body of moving The compassion and spiritual need In a skin organ Conforming like clothing. On the plane through the window I saw the crude manipulation of the elements And the living growth of the conscious organisms Responsive to the flow of feeling and need. The soul seeks beauty. The soul seeks power. The soul seeks vision. "It was the first time I ever talked about my spirituality in public. I was surprised several women came up and thanked me afterward For saying that." I am asking you to be. Dance expression to be an expression of spirit. To become conscious of the action of the force within you On the audience with the full knowledge. "I am battling the dark forces within me." Kali's freedom came as spontaneous flow. The dancer came without the social trappings With out boxes or flags, But from the awakened heart sprang forth Universalized in a thousands faces, Seen in a million hands, Sounded by delicate feet stamped with God's seal. "You'll die of exposure." As I could see Past Nixon's corn blighted Order for stability against the nuclear fear, The crop looked lost. One seed remained. Pioneer mastered the market For Nixon to decide. Transgenetics spoke to global warming To blight, pestilence It Joeled them into aliens, Joeled them to a new species, And the self-aware Gaia Awakened in the hearts And was felt and recognized. The energy measured and articulated By lesser sciences, Given in flowers The vital joy of Alarmel Valli That beamed from her heart And shook me with the joy of exertion Erotic It shot through my eyes to her And she saw the intensity and smiled. I knew that surgery released the anger And the surgeons had no knowledge of how to direct it. I saw her dance on the leaf of my monitor And directly felt the consciousness. Gone were the symbolic representations, Words, Media players, Fell to harvest shear. The trees danced their energy Sky nadis flowed with rain. The biosphere stretched and flowed into asanas Called rain forest and desert. The world was overgrown with teeming life. Tumble trees rolled over the sprawling cities Densed with growing things in every possible place. In China they planted a hub tree That channeled the energy for miles An organizing consciousness That knew unity as its home, For the superficial 4H Mr. Green genes. The fever lasted for days. Awakening in meditation Your image came and stepped With a deep lunge raising your heart towards the sky With a warrior salute. This symbol rearranged And articulated my aspiration. It slowly was able to make my mental transformation So that I might articulate and make its action felt. It was nearly a year and a half later before The time of intense martial practice I saw you again as living flesh. I knew you existed That you were real A person. I saw you lunge and call upward Ganga descended. The spiritual force leaving me energized with the evolutionary urge >From the white light of involutionary surge I found it within me. You spoke the next day as I sat in the rear. You stopped in the middle and explained how the structure Had lead you to improvise on the stage. "The structure of traditional dance left me with a feeling of these hands pressing on my throat." You gestured while you spoke. Even then you were hanging yourself. Pravritti-AT-msn.com Sterling Hart
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