California Dreaming

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Material life is all about “hope” .. I hope she likes me .. hope I get hired .. hope I win the lottery … so on, so on, and so, dreams sometimes gives us a little bit of that cherished hope, then it’s taken away in a flash! That’s the material world for you! Best to replace flickering hopes with everlasting dreams of eternal loving service to the One who dreams this whole material world on one exhalation, and then breathes it back in, Jai Sri Krishna!

So Far .. and yet so Near!

“I will be the first to touch Krishna!” “No, I will touch Him first!”

 

These crazy bald-headed humans! Their bus breaks down in the middle of the desert, and they're dancing and screaming at the top of their lungs, like they're all happy about it!!

These crazy bald-headed humans! Their bus breaks down in the middle of the desert, and they’re dancing and laughing, singing at the top of their lungs, like they’re all happy about it!!

Last night I dreamed I was a Timagila fish!

Last night I dreamed I was a Timagila fish!

A little to the left! Up a click or two, there! That's the spot! Ahhhh! Material pleasures, you can't beat it!

A little to the left! Up a bit, scratch there! That’s the spot! Ahhhh! Material pleasures, you can’t beat them!

Cook 3 meals, chant 16, change diapers, attend Bhagavatam class, [Hush baby!], clean mess, what more?

Cook 3 meals, chant 16, change diapers, attend Bhagavatam class, [Hush baby!], clean mess, what more do you want?

"What you looking at? We're walking here! You talking to me?

“What you looking at? We’re walking here! You talking to me?

"Last life I was a famous Rock Star ... now look at me! " ... "I think you're kind of cute!"

“Last life I was a famous Rock Star … now look at me! ” … “I think you’re kind of cute!”

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Don’t give me that “I got your back” baloney! You’re just here for the free ride! [Wait a minute … is this what I think it is? Ewww!]

Stop the scary movies! Can't take these nightmares!

Enough with the scary movies! Can’t take these nightmares!

Ah! The wages of fame! Dratted Paparazzi's won't give me a moment of peace!!

Ah! The wages of fame! Dratted Paparazzi’s won’t give me a moment’s peace!!

Come on people! Even with my small brain, I can see an obvious design in all, from DNA on up to galaxies, the Golden Ratio!!

Come on people! Even with my small brain, I can see an obvious design in all, from DNA on up to galaxies, the Golden Ratio!!

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Yamuna said: Swamiji, Janaki-devi wrote me this very nice letter where she had a dream that there was a gigantic platform above the surface of the earth, and all of our devotees, our Godbrothers and sisters and you, were assembled on this gigantic platform for sankirtana. And we had such a thunderous joy, magnificent kirtana, that the whole earth… When you said, “Jaya om param paramahamsa,” the whole earth bowed down to you like this. And we were all crying, so happy. And you said, “Now my Guru Maharaja is satisfied.” That was her dream.

Here's another jnani yogi falling from the sky, straight from the Brahmajyoti!  ["Thus after some time they fall again to this material world"]

Here’s another jnani yogi falling from the sky, straight from the Brahmajyoti! [“Thus after some time they fall again to this material world”]

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Teleporting Across the Ocean

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After Chandra finished his ritual duties, he knows that it is time to teleport across the ocean, back to Sherlock’s domicile … and so his two feet arrives upon the cobble stones of Baker Street, within a wink of an eye, and he drifts through a small crack in the window sill, like a wisp of fog, and he duly appears before Sherlock in a slightly visible ethereal body … and then, sitting opposite Sherlock’s confounded facial expression, Chandra said, “Namaste Lord Sherlock,

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“Take a look at this drop of water,” continued Chandra, as he takes an eyedropper from his coat and squeezes a drop onto the table’s top. “You asked me about man’s eternal soul, well, there are hundreds of thousands of microscopic organisms swimming around in this drop of water, and yes, they too have souls, just as the huge body of an elephant has a similar soul of the same size. Whether the body be huge or infinitesimal, the soul within floods the entire body with consciousness.”

Sherlock reaches for something in a drawer, and Chandra says, “Put away your magnifying glass, Sherlock, it will not allow you to see these souls, nor can you see the bodies of these tiny creatures swimming around in their vast world of liquidity. I have teleported into the far future, and I have looked at specimens through their powerful microscopes, and still the soul is invisible to our eyes, because the soul is one ten-thousandth the tip of a hair, and thus invisible to our eyes.”

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“Sometimes the path can be a little bumpy in the beginning,” whispered Chandra into Sherlock’s ear.

“We can converse person to person, no need for whispers,” said Sherlock.

After a long pause, Chandra continued, “the path most often requires one to discard baggage that prevents the seeker from flying upward into the heavenly realms …”

“And this means that I must discard something … what?” implored Sherlock.

“Let me narrate a story which illustrates this situation of shedding things that hinder,” offered Chandra, and he told a story thus;

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“Once upon a time, on the peripheral edge of the Bermuda Triangle, there rested an exotic bird paradise on a celestial island in the sea.

“Bermuda Triangle?” wondered Sherlock…

“Yes, this triangle was known by men to be a cursed area of the sea, off the coast of Bermuda, and was always a great mystery to man, as many boats and aeroplanes have disappeared after entering it’s domain. The truth is, this area is a conduit, it is like a wormhole, or a portal that teleports whoever enters, and transports them into other dimensions, other lands, other planets, into different eras, into different centuries.

What is on the "other side?"

What is on the “other side?”

“That island on the edge of this Bermuda wormhole, was populated by exotic birds who happily lived in peace for centuries, because it was protected by the curse of that triangle, and humans feared the reputation of “they who enters nare ever return.” Thus that abode of the exotic birds flourished, until one day a wooden ship appeared like a bad dream, with it’s black flag of skull-and-cross-bones flapping in the wind. The birds turned their colorful necks to observe this ship, full of black-bearded pirates, who then proceeded to do what man does best…”

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And Chandra paused a few moments, as Sherlock’s eye-brows arched, as if to say, “what, pray tell, what is it, that man does best?”

“The very thing that man, the two legged animal, does best … is to kill every living creature that lay within his wicked eyesight…”

“What you say is true, oh sage, please tell me why this is so?” pleaded Sherlock.

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“Why does man delight in killing? This is because he is not in harmony with the creative golden spiral of the universe. He cannot create anything wondrous with his two clumsy hands … therefore he is envious of all that has beauty … envious of all that flows with the magical Fibonacci numbers, he is disharmonious with all that is seen in the golden ratio of the divine proportions of creation,

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and all he can do, is to use his gift of free will, and wrongly choose to kill that which he fears, that which is beyond his comprehension. And thus he thinks his crude murder of life to be a sort of brutish creativity … like it is some kind of esoteric work of art … but it is only his fear and hatred of God’s immaculate creation.”

“And so,” continued Chandra, “the beautiful birds resided in caves etched within the side of a great mountain, and thus Blackbeard and his motley crew of pirates proceeded to fire their man’o-war cannon balls at the near mountain, which decimated the nests of unsuspecting birds, who raised a squalor of protest.”

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The Condor’s only hope of survival from the pirate’s fiery assault was to fly up the sheer walls of the vertical face of the mountain, up to the lofty peaks without hesitation, … but alas, those condors who were attached to their nest and eggs, and tried to secure either nest or eggs held in their talons, they could not make the vertical ascent as quickly, being burdened down’, and they could not escape the cannon balls exploding all about the mountain face, and they fell down to death, while the Condors who flew without a second thought, leaving all behind, only they lived … so, the moral of the story, is that when the house is on fire, rhe survivor exits,  to reach the goal, sometimes he must leave cherished attachments behind. That is what the moral of the story seems to be telling … but then again, things are not always what they seem.”

“There is nothing more deceptive than obvious facts,” said Sherlock, quoting one of his favorite axioms.

After assimilating all of this elaborate elucidation, Sherlock suggested, “Yes, it may seem that the birds that flew off were selfish, just trying to save themselves … and those who tried to save the nest, bore true nobility of heart, possessing a true moral compass.

“But, from another viewpoint, it may be said that in order for one to save himself from imminent danger, the situation may preclude the giving up of one’s attachments, to first save yourself, then go back and save others.”

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To this, Chandra said, “Sometimes you can’t save others until you first save yourself … but that is not what really happened! The most common mistake people make, is to smugly think that our particular species of homo sapiens is more intelligent than animals who live in so-called primitive ages … and so it may come as a shock to our big brains, to discover that primitive animals possess the ability to proffer a challenge to one’s so-called modern intelligence.

“And so, keeping that in mind … this is what really happened:”

Some of the Condors pretended to be dead, laying there still, in the nests … while the other Condors flew upward into the clouds, until they became tiny specks in the sky before merging into the clouds. To which the Pirates laughed loudly, and hurled insults up into the skies, crying out;

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“Run you cowards, fly away and save your own skin, and let your fellow mates and wives die in your nests, trying to protect your eggs, ha ha, big big birds with big big yellow bellies!!!”

The Pirates thought they were gone, until they heard a  faint wailing noise, way up in the sky,

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getting louder and louder … and before they could discern the reality of what was about to happen, a multitude of Condors suddenly materializing out of thin air, and they came swooping down with talons extended, claws eager to dig deep into the backs of the terrified Pirates, who ran here and there, some being picked up in the air with the Condor’s talons so sharp and strong, and firmly embedded into the bleeding backs of hapless pirates, and some were dropped into the ocean, as other terrified pirates ran all about, helter skelter, while the Condors ripped up their sails, tore down their masts, and overturned fires and kegs of oil, which set the ship ablaze.

As the wooden ship became a blazing inferno, more pirates came running out of the bowels of the ship, some jumping into the churning water and swimming ashore, where they lay exhausted on the beach for a long time. After gathering their wits, they looked around, and gazed up into the sky, and they thought that the Condors were gone, and they breathed deeply with great relief and gratitude … and then after a long while, a low and distant growl summoned their attention, and looking towards that alarming sound, they saw small specs on the distant shore, specs that grew larger and larger, until the true shapes began to manifest … and to their utter dismay, the pirates found themselves confronted with a pack of snarling and hungry wolves …

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great grey  wolves much larger than ever seen in Europe. Both pirates and wolves stood there staring at each other, the men frozen, afraid to run, and then the whole pack moved simultaneously, just a mere inch, which set off sheer panic throughout the bodies of the terrified pirates, and they all turned and ran for dear life.”

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Recommended blogs:

Catterwaul cuts the crap – http://wp.me/p4m90U-dY
Is it Pinkish? – http://wp.me/p4m90U-eg
Willy Wanko – http://wp.me/p4m90U-18
Tolkien in Hinterland – http://wp.me/p4m90U-aC
Mandates of the night sky – http://wp.me/p4m90U-1Z
Rory chap 5 father time – http://wp.me/p4m90U-9U
Coronation of Lord Smithy the Third – http://wp.me/p4m90U-bL
Telling the Gents What to Do – http://wp.me/p4m90U-cK
Winter of my Soul- http://wp.me/p4m90U-i2

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Get a copy of Bhagavad Gita at – http://www.asitis.com

Read Bhagavad Gita online – http://www.asitis.com

Read my novel  “Katz of Hinterland” – http://tinyurl.com/Katz-Amazon

 

The Apple draws the Earth

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I noticed a man sitting beneath the tree. I recognized him to be the esteemed nobleman, Sir Isaac Newton. It was then that I accidentally dislodged an apple from it’s branch and it dropped on his head. I heard him exclaim, “Ouch, damn it all!”

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“Sreejinn, what about you interacting with big historical figures, and maybe doing things that might have changed history? Like being Hitler’s gardener and cook? Could you have changed history through some kind of intervention? Could that have been the right thing to do? You may have had an opportunity to change events that would have turned history upside down?

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“Well Jeb, yes, I intervened in one instance, for the sake of friends. The past, present, and future’s like an open book to me, I saw what was coming, what needed to be done. Yes, maybe I could have done something more drastic, could have changed history, but that’s like on your TV show, Star Trek, Kirk had to follow the prime directive, and not to mess with the natural events of the alien world, or the change could be worse than the original events. It’s very tacky, very dangerous to mess with time-lines. I did that a few times, but got very bad dreams about it. So I stopped thinking that way. Like the time I tripped Charlemagne and he dropped the spear of destiny. And so he lost the war, and I had to do a quick identity change to escape punishment, I quickly morphed into a filthy beggar on the street — that one always worked. I had nightmares for weeks after that little episode.

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Another time, I was running from an angry mob, because I was caught up in a Royal scandal with the wife of a Duke, which wasn’t my doing. Again, I was innocent, in the wrong place at the wrong time. So, I ran up this gangplank and hid in some empty cargo box, on this ship. It turned out to be the Santa Maria, and we all set off to sea, our captain was Christopher Columbus. The Nina and Pinta followed right behind. I became a regular deck hand, and fortunately they never detected that I was a stowaway. Good thing too, or they would have thrown me overboard. Of course I couldn’t die, I would have had to swim for days, or weeks, to get back to land or some island. I would not have enjoyed that very much, you know, fighting off sharks and electric eels and stingrays and so on, there’s no way I could die, it wasn’t possible. So, we sailed into the western horizon for weeks, and food and water were starting to get scarce, and the men were grumbling, and were on the verge of mutiny. Columbus was confronted with a mutinous party of desperate crew men, and he was just about to turn back, when I told him to keep going. I assured him that we were almost there, land was just a short hop and skip away, and so I stopped the mutiny. How did I know? I knew, because I sailed to the Americas before, with the Vikings. I could navigate by the stars, and calculated that we were very near to land. Within a few minutes, we heard a loud “land ahoy!!” from the crow’s nest above, and we made land in small boats, and Columbus fell to the ground and kissed the soil with tears streaming from his eyes. We made friends with the Indians, and Pocahontas took a liking to me, and Columbus got jealous — it got a little nasty. My youthful and handsome looks were always getting me in trouble with love triangles, and jealous noblemen, no matter how much I tried to avoid it. I had to run off and live incognito with the Indians for a while.

There was another time; I was running from a jealous Lord, once again a noble’s wife got inebriated at some party and flirted with me, and so I had to run from the Lord and his men. And so I swiftly climbed a large tree to hide, and they ran by, shouting and cursing. After many hours in the camouflage of the tree leaves, I noticed a man sitting beneath the tree. I recognized him to be the esteemed nobleman, Sir Isaac Newton. It was then that I accidentally dislodged an apple from it’s branch and it dropped on his head. I heard him exclaim, “Ouch, damn it all!”

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Then I said in a low tone that he could barely hear, “Why does the apple fall in a straight line to the ground? Why does it not go sideways or upwards, but to the Earth’s centre? Because the Earth draws it. Yeah, that’s why. There is a drawing power in matter. And matter draws matter in proportion of its quantity. The apple draws the Earth, and the Earth draws the apple. Oh yeah, that is what’s called a law of nature.” He must have thought this was his intuitive mind formulating this brilliant concept. He then ran off to his study to write down this flash of genius. The rest is history.

from “Katz of Hinterland,” a novel – http://tinyurl.com/Katz-Amazon

“Katz of Hinterland” is mostly about how Hitler commissioned a yogi to follow him into the “other side” of his next life, and such yogi has the power to reinstate Hitler into his former human body, mustache and all, so that he can start his nazi mission once again. Well, big surprise … 🙂

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Recommended blogs:
Catterwaul cuts the crap – http://wp.me/p4m90U-dY
Is it Pinkish? – http://wp.me/p4m90U-eg
Willy Wanko – http://wp.me/p4m90U-18
Tolkien in Hinterland – http://wp.me/p4m90U-aC
Mandates of the night sky – http://wp.me/p4m90U-1Z
Rory chap 5 father time – http://wp.me/p4m90U-9U
Coronation of Lord Smithy the Third – http://wp.me/p4m90U-bL
Telling the Gents What to Do – http://wp.me/p4m90U-cK
Sherlock  chap 1 – http://wp.me/p4m90U-R
Sherlock  chap 1 pt 2 – http://wp.me/p4m90U-1B
Sherlock  chap 1 pt 3 – http://wp.me/p4m90U-56
Sherlock chap 2 – http://wp.me/p4m90U-6g
Sherlock chap 4 – http://wp.me/p4m90U-aW
Rory chap 1 – Einstein & golden Ratio http://wp.me/p4m90U-4p
Rory chap 2, the law of confusion – http://wp.me/p4m90U-7z
Mind over matter – http://wp.me/p4m90U-2m
Beehive of devotion: http://wp.me/p4m90U-3d
Even children can take part: http://wp.me/p4m90U-5E
Exhortations of Humble Love – http://wp.me/p4m90U-9p
Real Happiness – http://wp.me/p4m90U-ca
Boy Wonder Sacrificed by Guardians- http://wp.me/p4m90U-dx

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Fuehrer-ocious Inferno

 

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“Katz of Hinterland” is mostly about how Hitler commissioned a yogi to follow him into the “other side” of his next life, and such yogi has the power to reinstate Hitler into his former human body, mustache and all, so that he can start his nazi mission once again. Well, big surprise … 🙂 for better view than email, click here – http://wp.me/p4m90U-io

God is an equal karma opportunity employer

“So who is the real primal cause of WW2?, it’s the investors who made money off the war, and Hitler and his cronies were just pawns, and so why is history silent on the daddy warbucks? Because they controlled the newspapers, the media of lies and propaganda and cover-ups. But, karma got them in the end, and the toll was much higher … as God is an equal karma opportunity employer. He is the biggest kid on the block, and nobody gets away with anything, there is no hiding or subterfuge or cover-up in the afterlife, the ways of karma knows all.”

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Jeb and the fellowship sat around dreamland campfire, as moonshine shimmered across silver flatlands of the dreamscape-sea. Gulls flew in symmetrical synchronicity around the fire. Aristo surfed the thick ocean air like a flying caricature pig on a pink-floyd album cover. And then Hans suddenly popped through the psycho-relic wall to join the fireside party, and he began to relate his preternatural news…

Hans story-told, “This foreboding spirit, I call him “the blackman,” well, he’s been trampling all over my dreams. It’s a perpetual horrid nightmare, he’s so dark, full of evil and rage, demanding some payback from me. I’m always terrified at his sight. And then something really weird happened one night dream, he appeared in a grayish robe, the darkness replaced by a glimmer of light, a benefic glow in his eyes and demeanor. The rage was all gone, he appeared tranquil and equipoised, not like his old self at all. A grayish cloth wrapped round his torso and around his neck hung a necklace with a peace symbol pendant dangling thereon, and he was gibbering about the songs of whales, and sputtering green-peace catch-phrases like ‘save the whales,’ … trite things like that.”

“So I asked him, why the sudden ethical overhaul? He said that he’d been talking to other spirits who were enlightened and they were telling him some very heavy things, and he was remembering his past lives, and he had seen the extent of his punishment in clearer light now, that it’s possible for entities to attain redemption …. to change their destructive path, for it’s never too late.

“He told me his sordid ghost history of all these odious things that befell him. He told how his astral body sometimes hovered over some trees and detested a colony of wild cats, especially this black cat residing out in the woods. And sometimes his astral body would wander around the spirit world, in this shape of this black person … and sometimes he remembered his past lives.

Then I asked, “well, who were you before all this kitty-poop hit the proverbial fan?” He said, with reluctance, that he remembered his uniform and arm insignia, it seems he was a military officer in his former life. After swallowing several lumps in my throat, it occurred to me …I got an inkling that perhaps this was my master coming back into flesh, though I didn’t want to believe it. I told myself it was only a dream, don’t let a dream get you down. I was thinking that he didn’t want to believe it either, and he was grabbling with the reality for a long time, or else he wasn’t inclined to tell me the truth all at once. Well, he finally came clean with me and told me he was pretty much the Fuehrer reincarnate, in some weird flesh casing, and also this ghostly apparition … but he told me not to worry, even though it was a bitter pill to swallow. It didn’t seem to me like the grandest re-entry of my master, back from the dead, but I came to grips with it in a while, thinking maybe still everything would continue as planned. Then he told me about the hell part….”

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“Hans took a moment’s pause, as his audience sat with ear antennas tuned in, and Hans continued…

“It seems that blackman had to pay for the bad things he did, before getting anything good, if there was any good. They explained it like that. He had to pay, just like everybody has to pay. The afterlife spirits told him, that’s how things work. They said that every departed soul must reap karma for the number of other souls vanquished in his earthly life, he must pay for the lives taken before their time, if he was in any way responsible for their early demise, including animals and other living things, not just humans, he must pay … and often it involves a stint in hell, temporary hellish punishments. Then he described all the sordid details of how he went to hell …the road he traversed to the destiny of hell, and how long it went on.”

“I was under the impression,” said Jeb, “that hell wasn’t a temporary arrangement, or at least this is the common belief.”

“Oh, I know, but it gets real complicated,” said Hans, “they told him that hell wasn’t eternal, but in another way it’s eternal, or it that it seems eternal. I know it sounds nuts, and I trying to get a handle on it too…”

“So, the blackman recounted all the revolting details to my ears,” continued Hans, “as he said that he was in a great darkness, there was a pitch blackness in all directions, like he was floating in outer space with no stars or moon. And then a road appeared before him that faded off into infinity. There appeared some ghastly characters with bright red hair that sprouted out of their heads like these spiked-hair geeks you see in the city. Their facial features were contorted into grisly masks of horror, worse than those Freddy Kruggar movies.

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“The miscreants grabbed him from all sides as they emitted loud shrieks, and he fought them in vain as they yanked and dragged him down the road at a unrelenting pace, as ferocious hounds of hell appeared from the shadows, barking through wicked canines. They tore at his flesh with maws of steel, again and again …and he stumbled and fell again and again, crying out pitiably, losing consciousness from the pain, then jolting out of comatose to a searing pain again. There upon the snarling hounds of hell tore him apart, again and again, a perpetual horror upon horrors, and he could not die though he desired to.

“The torturous road stretched out into space, shrouded in darkness, as raging bon fires consumed the path on all sides, making flesh bake. The conflagration roared on all sides of the road, baking the hot sand and burning feet, and he stumbled and fell again and again from the extreme heat, losing consciousness, just to re-awaken to fresh torture from the ripping teeth of the hell hounds. The copper-haired freaks dragged him down this burning road of perdition, as the road stretched out forever … into a darkness of oblivion…

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“It seemed like hell went on for forever, but in reality, it was only a few minutes. Things are not what they seem in the afterworld. Time is a tricky concept there. A few moments might seem like years. And besides, the torture part of hell is a bit redundant, and the true lessons of karma are more effectively learned in the future lives to come, where every tooth for tooth is well reckoned, where the soul lives out the injustices that he impinged upon others. So, after a while, the torture ebbed away, and the blackman’s ravaged subtle body was dragged the nape of his ghostly neck to a regal looking person sitting on a high throne, who lectured him about his karma and suffering and gave advise of how to change it.”

Then, the blackman passed into a spirit limbo world were disembodied spirits loitered about, in all kinds of shapes. They are everywhere in the regular world, but people can’t see them. Blackman avoided them at first, but he seemed to have all the time in the world, and after an in terminal period of boredom, he accosted some spirits, and they shared their past.

Some spirits were evolved in wisdom and they told him the truth of hell and karma. It seems that hell is not eternal as men seem to think, and in a way it seems eternal. All souls are like diamonds embedded within a hard covering of coal, for a very long time. But after a certain span of time the coal covering may be chipped away and broken off, by flickers of spirit illuminations, and the brilliant diamond of the soul comes out. Blackman saw that perhaps he would get another chance, for the soul pays for past karma for a certain time in extreme hell, and then comes back to the world of flesh, or the limbo spirit side, and then he goes up or down on the suffering scale, depending on his actions of doing good or bad. He finally saw the suffering in the ether world and the physical world; he had a change of heart. The spirits convinced him to change his karma and do well for others, because it’s never too late to change and make right to one’s past and change the future. This is what he was telling me.”

Jeb said, “I don’t think the world is going to change it’s opinion about him, no matter how much he changes. He is a condemned person.”

“True, and his subtle body and mind will carry his karma to his next life,” said Sreejinn, “and he could be the same kind of person, if he maintains that mentality. But, if this is true what Hans is saying, if hell and the spirits could change him, then he can have redemption, just like all other souls in the material world. No one soul is condemned for some eternal punishment, all souls can be redeemed eventually. Otherwise, what is the point? If everyone is cemented by fate, if nobody can change, then what is the meaning of free will or being human? Perhaps the severe hell jail time is over for him, but the karma and suffering comes in other ways, going on life after life. So it’s like a perpetual hell in a way. It goes on for him, like it does for everyone else, until he decides to change his ways.

“However, it is normal for souls in ethereal bodies, or in the womb, to have profound spiritual realizations, and then to forget what they learned as soon as they are cast out of the womb and enter the world. They mostly forget all they learned and revert back to their former karmic consciousness.”

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“Besides that,” said Jehrom, “this claim that he is the most evil person in history? Well, history is relative to geography, there were other persons who are more despised in other parts of the world, who’s wreaked more death than Hitler, like Stalin, who silenced 50 million, and Mao Tse-tung who caped a 100 mill, and so many holocausts which soaked the earth with blood. And there are those in the background, the financial backers of Hitler, the ones who financed the war, they are also culpable for crimes to humanity. If not for them, it couldn’t have happened. There were many revolutionary types in history, who did nothing because they didn’t have capital for war machines. Hitler couldn’t have done squat without the big bankrollers, like all those tanks and guns and ammunition don’t appear out of thin air, so who is the real primal cause of WW2?, it’s the investors who made money off the war, and Hitler and his cronies were just pawns, and so why is history silent on the daddy warbucks? Because they controlled the newspapers, the media of lies and propaganda and cover-ups. But, karma got them in the end, and the toll was much higher … as God is an equal karma opportunity employer. He is the biggest kid on the block, and nobody gets away with anything, there is no hiding or subterfuge or cover-up in the afterlife, the ways of karma knows all.”

from “Katz of Hinterland,” a novel – http://tinyurl.com/Katz-Amazon

“Katz of Hinterland” is mostly about how Hitler commissioned a yogi to follow him into the “other side” of his next life, and such yogi has the power to reinstate Hitler into his former human body, mustache and all, so that he can start his nazi mission once again. Well, big surprise … 🙂

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Recommended blogs:
Catterwaul cuts the crap – http://wp.me/p4m90U-dY
Is it Pinkish? – http://wp.me/p4m90U-eg
Willy Wanko – http://wp.me/p4m90U-18
Tolkien in Hinterland – http://wp.me/p4m90U-aC
Mandates of the night sky – http://wp.me/p4m90U-1Z
Rory chap 5 father time – http://wp.me/p4m90U-9U
Coronation of Lord Smithy the Third – http://wp.me/p4m90U-bL
Telling the Gents What to Do – http://wp.me/p4m90U-cK
Sherlock  chap 1 – http://wp.me/p4m90U-R
Sherlock  chap 1 pt 2 – http://wp.me/p4m90U-1B
Sherlock  chap 1 pt 3 – http://wp.me/p4m90U-56
Sherlock chap 2 – http://wp.me/p4m90U-6g
Sherlock chap 4 – http://wp.me/p4m90U-aW
Rory chap 1 – Einstein & golden Ratio http://wp.me/p4m90U-4p
Rory chap 2, the law of confusion – http://wp.me/p4m90U-7z
Mind over matter – http://wp.me/p4m90U-2m
Beehive of devotion: http://wp.me/p4m90U-3d
Even children can take part: http://wp.me/p4m90U-5E
Exhortations of Humble Love – http://wp.me/p4m90U-9p
Real Happiness – http://wp.me/p4m90U-ca
Boy Wonder Sacrificed by Guardians- http://wp.me/p4m90U-dx

Books and Stones Telltale the Past

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Books and Stones telltale the past

What best endures the ravages of time? The written word or architecture? What gives us the real picture about our past? Was it written manuscripts on parchment and palm leaves that had more impact on history, or was it those great and enigmatic edifices of stone left behind by vanished civilizations?

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Lately there’s been talk about these structures on Mars, especially a face visible from space. There’s been fear and wonder about what this implicates. The imagination can go wild and think of amazing implications that will challenge the reality of a worldview we’ve embraced, very challenging indeed. That’s why it is so secretive and controversial with NASA. It seems that people are very afraid to think of things that might change their view of the world. Recently the movie of going to Mars came out, and the structure was in the movie, and some speculate that NASA wasn’t very happy with it.

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Such a vision on the surface of Mars sets the senses of man agog, his mind races in lightspeed, reeling in wonder … but what about structures on the earth? Have we really understood the ruins left on earth?, and what they implicate? Denial and secrecy may be more of an issue here than the face on Mars. Have we unlocked the secrets of the pyramids? Have we a clue of the Easter island faces staring out in space? Have we fathomed the enigmas of Machu Pichu? The Mayan temples? What’s the story behind the vast labyrinths of Angkor Vat? Who built these mind boggling conundrums and how? A replication of such construction is impossible in our modern day. We sometimes pride ourselves as being so greatly scientifically advanced, but what do we really know what is really going on … on this earth? What to speak of a face on Mars, have we even barely scratched the surface of the meanings of the astounding puzzles on the face of this earth?

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The following information will never be aired in mainstream media and newspapers, because the implications are just too mind boggling, it sticks in the throat, just too hard to swallow for modern man to neatly fit into his preconcieved notions of his world and human history. It beggars the historians to re-think, to re-write, but they are unwilling. Despite resistance and denial, the plain evidence stares us in the face, clear cut and excutiatingly verifiable … a relentless and obdurate statement about the mysterious past of humankind.

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Thousands of years ago, we had no archives, no microfiche machines, no libraries, and so the only method of leaving clues for the future was to leave embedded messages in architecture, or give the written story on palm leaves and parchments. Books and stones – and so what do they tell of the past? Man was always leaving his mark in history in the form of architectureal monuments and the written word. What paints a most vivid picture of the true story of our past? Victor Hugo raises this question in his “Hunchback,” when he talks about the Gutenberg press, 1450, and how this event changed the history of man.

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Before the ink and plates of the Gutenberg press, long before the printing press, a large body of books were kept well in stock for many thousands of years, in the land of India, written on palm leafs. These ancient books of India are known as the Vedas, which date 5,000 years back into antiquity. It is said there are enough books of Vedic literature to fill a basketball stadium. But most are lost (many distroyed by envaders) and yet there is still a large canon of literature of the Vedas in existence. Still, many people in the world do not know of the Vedas, nor believe in the Vedas. The Indologists from the British empire were especially intent upon discrediting the Vedas. They portrayed the Vedas to be somewhat like old comic books, old fables and myths made up by fertile imagination. The ancient scripts even tell of how a Vedic civilization once existed all over the globe! Scoffers beware … restrain your verdict for a minute, and give the following information a chance for digestion.

http://www.hinduismtoday.com/modules/smartsection/item.php?itemid=3433

 

Cruising at Warp 9

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Harrison sits in his propitious literati chair, which is replete with unique cushions and arm-rests — it makes him feel like he’s on the bridge of the Enterprise, cruising at warp 9 in deep space, with the stars flying by on all sides. As he tugs on his red Starfleet uniform, which somehow never feels comfortable, his inner voice whispers, “let the words melt down onto the page, no inhibitions.” And he aims his trusty Excalibur towards the stars in outer space, and with a comical tone of exaggerated authority, he reiterates the proverbial command … “make it so!”

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Am I channeling some spirit? How does one account for inexplicable and grotesque images surfacing from the lagoon of one’s mind? Mutilated cats hung in effigy? Explosions in the sky in time with baroque concertos? Fefe asks the cats about the torture going on in the woods, things that Merle was telling Jeb about, and the cats says it was some transit cats who are demented … a bunch of batty cats who keep to themselves, when not murdering on the sly …

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as they hang out around the northern perimeter of the woods, and render mayhem in the dead of night. I see zany things in my dreams — a man sees a gold hoop affixed to his earlobe — a hawk converses with wildcats, and commiserates over the horrors of body parts strewn all over the woods — and Jeb boy hitches a ride with a hippie on a magical mystery tour bus, and so … what is all that? And there’s a crucified cat hanging in a tree with frenzied guitar solos blaring in tune to fireworks exploding over the Pacific!

But, ya know, I tend to think these things are cool, and I can think that way because it’s not really real, it’s all just a dream. It’s like the Praying Mantis, who is totally creepy, yet way cool at the same time. He’s like a little monster-monk-like insect in a nightmarish cheesy horror movie, where he is a demonic alien descending from the stars, ransacking cities and gorging on the flesh of human carcasses,

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and other times he appears like a monastic priest offering prayers to the heavens. Wanda, she does not like the horror genre kind of flicks, and I look at them once in a while, cause they are not really real — just like the crucified cat in the tree, I think the imagery is cool, cause it’s like the movies, it ain’t real!! It’s all a grand hallucination!

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And if you watch the nature shows once in a while, you will see that the insect kingdom is a much more brutal and horrific in their episodes than human movies — replete with more ghastly murders and dismemberments than the horror reels of these cat dreams. I give special mention to the Praying Mantis and his sometimes fiendish demeanor, and in the next instant he is morphing to monk-like innocence. As the whole world is running here and there in constant struggle for existence, the Mantis cares not for the hustle and bustle of the world, and he moves very slowly and nonchalant and carefree, and self-assured that the world will come to him, with him never lifting a hook-like finger to go to it.

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He assumes a stick-like posture and waits with a smug grin on its face, looking like an monster from outer space, as the unsuspecting food-chain serving steps right into his claws and jaws, which he uses to rip his main course entree asunder. And after dismembering and gorging on the hapless victim — like the religious Mafioso who says grace at the dinner table right after whacking his competitor — the pious Mantis utters a devout prayer with folded hands in supplication and hearty thanks for the bountiful blessings bestowed on him by the almighty Lord of the creepy-crawlies.

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From “Katz of Hinterland,” a novel – http://tinyurl.com/Katz-Amazon

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Recommended blogs:
Catterwaul cuts the crap – http://wp.me/p4m90U-dY
Is it Pinkish? – http://wp.me/p4m90U-eg
Willy Wanko – http://wp.me/p4m90U-18
Tolkien in Hinterland – http://wp.me/p4m90U-aC
Coronation of Lord Smithy the Third – http://wp.me/p4m90U-bL
Telling the Gents What to Do – http://wp.me/p4m90U-cK
Sherlock  chap 1 – http://wp.me/p4m90U-R
Sherlock  chap 1 pt 2 – http://wp.me/p4m90U-1B
Sherlock  chap 1 pt 3 – http://wp.me/p4m90U-56
Sherlock chap 2 – http://wp.me/p4m90U-6g
Sherlock chap 4 – http://wp.me/p4m90U-aW
Mandates of the night sky – http://wp.me/p4m90U-1Z
Rory chap 1 – Einstein & golden Ratio http://wp.me/p4m90U-4p
Rory chap 2, the law of confusion – http://wp.me/p4m90U-7z
Rory chap 5 father time – http://wp.me/p4m90U-9U
Mind over matter – http://wp.me/p4m90U-2m
Beehive of devotion: http://wp.me/p4m90U-3d
Even children can take part: http://wp.me/p4m90U-5E
Exhortations of Humble Love – http://wp.me/p4m90U-9p
Real Happiness – http://wp.me/p4m90U-ca
Boy Wonder Sacrificed by Guardians- http://wp.me/p4m90U-dx

What Irony Fate has Wrought!

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What irony fate has wrought! Our escape is foiled by a drunken sot, passed out and sleeping on the ground!

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Varga wondered how he got included in this whole adventure. He thought back on that day in the forest … yes … it was the cryptic voice within, and he remembered, he acted on the mysterious voice deep within.

“It must be the will of Isvara,” he murmured to himself. “We are puppets in his hands, and he causes us to dance as he wishes.”

The next morning, Varga performed daily rituals and chanted mantras in the stillness of the early morning hours, awaiting the rising sun. He entered the temple and received a garland from the Deity, and gazed upon that brilliant form with shining eyes.

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At sunrise, he watched the fiery globe emerge … and he murmured the Gayatri, and the golden rays chased away the fleeing shadows. He meditated on the light of the radiant sun … only a tiny fraction of the Brahmajyoti effulgence … it had once again banished the night’s darkness.

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He began his journey with several men, and some pack mules. Sri Satram employed his mystic vision to show Varga the location of the gem, which lay within the lair of a tribe of dacoits. It was a few days journey through a rugged land.

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His band journeyed through a mountain pass along trails steep and treacherous. At the end of the second day, they made camp in a moonlit cove of trees. In a short time, one of their trackers spotted the Dacoit’s camp, about six miles away.

In the dead of night, Varga and a few men stealthily crept through some brush to the crest of a low hill and surveyed the camp from a distance. The night darkened as a large cloud veiled the moon, and Varga and his men crept to the edge of camp. They found a sentry who was carelessly falling asleep on his watch. This band of dacoits wore some strange traditional robes with hoods concealing the face.

Varga dexterously circled the unwary man and he detected that the sentry was snoring in a drunken stupor. He quickly bound, gagged, and disrobed him. Varga donned the man’s robe, and instructed his men to wait for further signal, as he skulked into their camp, incognito.

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The camp was a ram-shakle tangle of tents and run down huts. There were two well built buildings in the center of camp. The large one appeared to be a tavern and the small one appeared to be a temple.

He milled about, looking for possible clues or leads, and then entered the tavern, his face well concealed by the draping hood.

It was a raucous tavern, the atmosphere was filled with loud noises and peels of laughter. The mayhem was occasionally accented by sudden brawls, and bursting bottles, flashing fists, cursing, and flying chairs. This only charged the enthusiasm and mirth of the belligerent crowd.

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Varga leaned against the bar and ordered with a muffled voice. He ease-dropped on a nearby conversation. A grotesque ruffian was boasting loudly, slurring and gesturing like a stinking drunk, his tongue unrestrained, bragging about the capture of a man and some gem of mysterious powers.

There was a sudden crash against the bar and Varga turned to see a big bully taunting a smaller man. Nothing ruffles Varga’s feathers more than the ignoble deeds of a bully. Intolerant of such acts, Varga stepped between the cowering man and the thug.

This enraged the brute so, that he swung at Varga with all his might. Being nimble and quick, Varga eluded his fist and doubled him over with a right to the midsection.

The thug looked up for a brief moment, only to stare with eyes wide open, in total disbelief. His gaze was put to rest, as Varga belted him up and over the bar, and he slid the full length down the polished wooden top, bowling over everyone’s drink.

This caused a large uproar, followed by intense glares, as everyone turned to stare and grumble. The smaller man quickly bade Varga to follow him outside. The crowd was too drunk to meddle, and turned back to their boisterous activities as Varga and his mate exited discreetly.

They repaired to a secluded spot, and the man said, “My name is Sugosh … thank you for saving my skin. I liked the way you knocked him across that bar … why, nobody else would dare interfere. I see you are a stranger, please tell me who you are and how I may repay you.” Varga then introduced himself, and inquired of his story.

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“I was captured by this band of rogues at when they raided my small village years ago,” Sugosh said. “The King’s army arrived in time to capture many of the dacoits, but many got away, with me included as their slave. And so, I’ve been waiting for my chance to escape, please take me with you.”

“Sure Sugosh, I’ll get you out of here, no problem, but first you might help me with my task at hand. I am looking for a wonderful crystal gem, said to be in the hands of these rogues.”

“Oh yes,” answered Sugosh, “I can help you with that. Over on the eastern side of camp, there’s a guarded cabin. Within is a prisoner by the name Megadut, and the gem. It seems they caught the hapless fool outside the Shrine of Mahadeva. He was boasting of his possession of some powerful gem.”

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Varga and Sugosh set their sights upon that cabin and circled around back through the woods. Varga had to step over several drunks who were passed out and sleeping in the bushes.

Varga thought, what a zest they have for this rot gut brew, how they guzzle it down!

They stealthily made their way to the rear of the cabin. In concealment they heard a conversation of the Guards.

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“When is the journey to crater lake to be?” said the first.

The second replied, “Kergold said we will depart tomorrow at dawn, one day before the eve of the full moon. You know how the Kraken is fond of human offerings on a full moon night!” They both cackled loudly, anticipating the fun to be had.

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Varga then devised a plan. Sugosh lured one of the guards around to the back with promises of strong drink. The guard scratched his head and weighed the pros and consequences of drinking on the job. He quickly discarded the cons and advanced to Sugosh with a grin. Varga stepped out from behind a tree … as the guard started to gasp in surprise, Varga promptly knocked him unconscious. He then went to the front and commanded the other guard to open the door. The guard glanced at the gleaming dagger protruding from Varga’s robe and complied to the order without a peep. They went inside and Varga gagged and tied up the guard.

Megadut squealed in excitement upon presuming his escape, but his smile turned to a frown as Varga ignored him and instead forced open the box holding the gem.

Megadut beckoned him and pleaded for his release in a submissive voice, “Please take me with you and I will vow my loyalty and service to you … oh great sir!”

At that time, Sugosh submitted this advice to Varga, “Be wary of this base person, oh Varga! See how he pleads with feigned submission! Policy is the true substance of dynasties, and thus one should not accept the fake submission of a rogue, this is clearly seen in the story of the snake and the frog.” Sugosh then related the following story:

Once there was a clever snake who was lazy and unable to catch frogs easily and so he remained motionless upon a riverbank. The King of the frogs was curious and asked the snake, from a safe distance, why he was sitting so still, and why he didn’t eat frogs as of old.

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The snake replied, “Once I was at chase of some frog, and by mistake I did bite the finger of a Brahmin’s son by mistake, and he died, and so the Brahmin cursed me to be a bearer of frogs, instead of an eater of frogs, and so here I am, and I cannot eat you, no, I can only carry you on my back.”

And as the King heard this, he became desirous of being carried and so he came out of the water with his minister frogs and they all mounted upon the snake’s back for a ride. After the snake had gained their confidence, he feigned exhaustion and said, “I cannot go a step further without any food, unless you give me food, how can a servant serve without subsistence?”

At this, the King frog said, “alright, I suppose you can eat a few of my followers.” And so the snake ate all the frog followers, and the King tolerated it because of blind pride at being carried about on his back.

“And so,” said Sugosh, “we should not give into false submission or a calamity may befall us for such indiscretion.”

Varga replied, “Oh Sugosh, you give noble advise, and yet I feel compelled to take him in. I remember how Laksmana advised Lord Rama not to accept the brother of Ravana, Vibishana, into his camp. Laksmana said that he was a brother of the enemy and one should never trust an enemy. But Lord Rama said that he never refused anyone who came to him in surrender, and so I shall adopt the same policy, even though I may live to regret it.”

And so the three tried to escape through the back way. They made their way secretly through the woods, with the moon light shimmering about the tree boughs. They were upon the outer limits of the woods and ill fortune fell, as Megadut stumbled over a sleeping drunk in the bushes, and stepped on his head so hard that the stinking lush screamed out in bloody murder. This alarmed a nearby sentry, who alerted his comrades with a loud whistle, and droves of soldiers came from all directions and surrounded them. The odds outweighed Varga as the dacoits were in numbers and were armed with swords and spears.

Being trapped, just as the immortal soul is trapped within the material body, Varga gave a good fight, but they were outnumbered. He opted for discretion instead of valor, on account of the former being the better part of the latter … and he decided to surrender.

They were put into jail, and the dacoits grinned and slapped each other’s backs and shook each other’s grimy hands vigorously, after spitting on them as a token of victory.

As they sat in the cell, Sugosh exclaimed, “What irony fate has wrought! Our escape is foiled by a drunken sot, passed out and sleeping on the ground!”

Varga nodded in sad confirmation and said, “Aye, the devil’s brew has waylayed many a man’s dream.”