Sunday, 31 October 2021

Three Dependencies

 

But know, o Miro'ann, thou knowest thyself and the people, but never shall the people know thee or themselves. (Aviilokín K'shi, The Fables of Lokaii)

 In order to be balanced and strong, the human chakra system needs to be nourished  by the energies of social-emotional and romantic-sexual harmony, and by a moral form of material self-sufficiency. I perceive these are the three main dependencies of a human being. When one begins to grow spiritually, one must take in consideration that one will have increasing difficulty fulfilling these three dependencies. This is because we can only get these three dependencies fulfilled through other human beings. It is an unfortunate fact that human beings reject (and become biased towards) people who are different than themselves and who they cannot understand. Human beings have an innate fear of the dark, stemming from the time in which humanity still lived in its primitive state. In the dark of night, it is only too easy to envision all sorts of scary predators, or members of hostile tribes desiring to harm you. It can be compared to the dark alley of our modern day.  A spiritual person whom via his mystical self-cultivation transcends the human standard inevitably becomes understood less and less, and so it is that for his growing Light, people will see darkness in him more and more. The pre-anticipating, primitive mortal phobia that lives within all human beings makes all sorts of negative projections upon the spiritual person, just like people project all sorts of malice upon the inimical image of a looming, dark alley. This is an important facet of "consciousness discrimination". Unfortunately this principle continues unabated among spiritual people themselves; those with actual mystical achievement are not understood and are persecuted.

One enters upon a seeming paradox, one might grow spiritually but one will be able to answer one's three dependencies less and less. This causes the chakra system to become imbalanced, weak and vulnerable. Like this, your spiritual growth will first elevate you but very quickly will then also bring you down. It is inevitable that this requires a degree of detachment and emotional emancipation. One might need to pursue self-respect or self-love  in order to have less emotional dependency upon one's environment. One may also ask the harmonizing powers of Tao/the universe for suiting companionship and a fitting societal position for one's material needs. Concerning answering the three dependencies while transcending the general human standard, I believe it is difficult to provide a universal answer for every individual. Rather, looking at my own experience in life, it is best to advice people to work with the harmonizing powers of Tao to Manifest a solution that fits their own individual circumstances best. When I was younger, I had the dream of purchasing a piece of land in which people would have the social freedom to live in Stillness, while respecting individuality and every walk of life. Unfortunately, as the years increased my life experience, I noticed how quickly and naturally spiritual communities become sectarian and seek to enforce uniformity upon its members. My increasing life experience also revealed that almost no spiritual people actually experience Stillness, nor understand its meaning or value, which leads to persecution and discrimination all in itself. I always like to be very honoust with my audience; Tao cultivation in this world is very, very difficult. The Stillness, which is so fundamental for Tao cultivation, is simply understood no-where. Not in temples, not in mainstream society, not in spiritual communities. My humble advice therefore remains to work with the harmonizing powers of Tao to find your own Way.


Aviilokín K'shi
www.aviilokinkshi.net

Sunday, 24 October 2021

Primal Denial

Our primitive nature seeks to form a herd to survive the environment. The herd is stabilized by enforcing uniformity of mind, body, and speech upon its members. Whether we call the enforced standard a paradigm, institution, culture, religion, or cult, this primitive quality is fundamentally sectarian. It is in this regard interesting to note that the words "cult" and "culture" are etymologically entwined. This fundamental sectarian quality of the innate, primal group-based survival instinct was what underlay the violent, persecuting Christian church, but is also fully active within the academical paradigm. In the words of the persecuted scientist Robert O. Becker in "The Body Electric" (William Morrow Paperbacks):

"I've taken the trouble to recount my experience in detail for two reasons. Obviously, I want to tell people about it because it makes me furious. More important, I want the general public to know that science isn't run the way they read about it in the newspapers and magazines. I want lay people to understand that they cannot automatically accept scientists' pronouncements at face value, for too often they're self-serving and misleading. I want our citizens, nonscientists as well as investigators, to work to change the way research is administered. The way it's currently funded and evaluated, we're learning more and more about less and less, and science is becoming our enemy instead of our friend... The present system is in effect a dogmatic religion with a self-perpetuating priesthood dedicated only to preserving the current orthodoxies. The system rewards the sycophant and punishes the visionary to a degree unparalleled in the four-hundred-year history of modern science."

Academics suffer from intelligent ignorance, with which this primitive sectarian quality practices sophisticated, automatic denial towards everything and everyone that affects the standards of academical orthodoxy. This is in effect just parochial, primitive territorialism extended into the realm of the intellect. This enforces tremendous censorship upon our authentic human self-awareness, upon our awareness of history and of the universe.

Aviilokín K'shi
www.aviilokinkshi.net


About My Translation of Dao De Jing

The Chinese language is inherently suggestive and what one may call ambiguous. It is like a river with many turns that can never become absolutely concrete in its direction, yet those who learn to surrender to its flow are taken on a journey full of meaning. A Chinese word has many simultaneous meanings. Though the English language is more precise, it too has words that have multiple, diverging meanings. For instance, the word deep. It can mean a certain altitude below a given surface area, it may mean profundity, it may also imply a certain intensity of mood. Let’s take the following English sentence as an example: John’s heart is not well. This may either mean John has a medical condition with his heart; it may also mean he is not feeling happy. Every Chinese word, phrase and sentence fundamentally has this quality. We may say that English is precise and intellectual, whereas Chinese is suggestive and intuitive. This typically allowed Chinese mystics to write on several levels at the same time, making their communications multidimensional. For this reason I like to compare their words to a seed; when planted in the soils of ever growing mystical experience, their meaning sprouts and unfolds like a tree with many branches and leaves. If one’s mystical cultivation is still young, however, one’s apprehension of these texts can be compared to a nascent sapling with only few branches and leaves. Due to the nature of the Chinese language, and indeed the nature of Taoist mysticism itself, the ancient sages did not necessarily write with intellectual precision as if drawing a roadmap with words. Rather their language was suggestive and inherently poetic, hinting unto that river down which they journeyed; a river that is certainly, concretely there, and yet its way is indistinct and diverse. It may be said that in this way the Chinese mystic sensitizes you to the cosmic currents of Tao. They did not seek to create an intellectual model in your head, which is something that our Western mindset fundamentally seeks from an explanatory text, but rather guided their readers’ minds towards the intuitive experience of Tao. Ironically enough, this is perhaps as concrete language can ever get when it comes down to expressing the meaning of life. An English text would seek to explain things in intellectual concepts, a Chinese Taoist text seeks to induce intuitive experience. Not wishing to invalidate the work of others, academical translations of Dao De Jing that try to present the text as a literal, word for word transition to the English language never conveyed much mystical meaning to me. A one on one translation does not work, because English words are not as pregnant in meaning as their Chinese counterparts. English words cannot fulfil the same seed function as Chinese words. I therefore found it important not to put words to the seeds but to the branches and the leaves, which means I give meaning to what these seeds suggestively imply. In this I allowed myself to be guided by my humble mystical experience. Due to my inherently different approach, the erudite members of the Taoist community advised me that in our Western culture of rigid classification, it is important that I clarify that my version of Dao De Jing is not based upon trying to produce a literal translation, for indeed it seems to me that such a thing is a fallacy. Instead, I should classify my version of the text as an English interpretation, based on mystical experience; I do keep as close to the original wording as much as possible.


Aviilokín K'shi

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