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Hi Taomeow, Perhaps I'm misinterpreting only knowing you as I do from your online presence, but let me say this: whoever is writing your posts has an awful lot of Zing! I'm not sure we could handle the unbridled dream alter-ego self. Not that you should let that stop you. Hmmm....on second thought, why not? Bring it on. Liminal

I have this book on dream yoga "The Tibetan Yogas Of Dream and Sleep" that i think some people would be interested in that I want to upload but i don't wanna upload it and have it taken down.

Yes once eyes start to open in the dream ..

Oh, by the way....soon I will become Padmapani...my current big dream me!itely edit: I LOVE being crazy!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! crazy people are on the fast-track to framing artwork in a temple, performing absolutions before Buddha and then eating the string cheese leftovers. 1)Dont waste 2)Take the time to do it right 3)Its an animal planet 4)People should respect the insane, because we are all definitely insane 5)There are people here who like you just as much as I do! Be happy.

Thanks for mention Taomeow. This book gives me a lot to think and to reflect on. I read the book and I think there is the need to see into our society in the moment. Many people now own many different things and also in great variation because of the wealth and the mass consume by making rare stuff avaible to everybody and the result of the different tools to express the individulalty. In addition the possesions (possesive?) have become more information based because of the development of personal computers. Especially I listen attentively when she said that the things we own are filled with our energy and the more we like and use it the more it is filled (german version-my understanding). So a territory we have to look inside is "What is on our PC?" Mostly we have lots of links, bookmarks,musicdata, games, electronic writtings and the things are here and there with lots of pictures and manuscripts and programs. So this would be also a place I would consider to take care about. Especially people who play online games might "forget" their password and leave a game behind and it is useful to formulate a mental command to to let go of the "alter ego" and "the universe of the game" and do a formal ending to the possesion. I think people here have their own ways. Actually I also found after reading a part of this book that I have things I have not touch yet. One are two books about Bagua by Tom Bisio and the other is a set of Bagua Tai Chi and the third is Tai Chi Ruler by Terry Dunn. Arcording my understanding of the books information unfinished and unused stuff or incomplete stuff are draining. I guess I have to read and see the stuff to increase my energy, since it is precious information (which is maybe a trap... that I 'may' need it ) So if one think a bit further it is also ask for more concentration on one theme. Exercising different systems may limit one unconcious. I expirience that if one put a specific amount of effort into whatever it is then I seem to have less for something else. The 100 day Gong as it practise in Zhineng Qigong seem a wise idea. Actually a thing I also ask myself and others. How many things can we remember we have when we close our eyes and 'where' is it? I heard in the past someone said it is best to mediate and practise in a plain room with nothing than the 6 walls having a plain colour - or non colour if one want count white in . The next thing is how much we know the details of the things we have? The thing I understood from reading that book is that the ignoring of something cost energy (especially clutter, things that have to be done) Beside the stuff we have today they have lots of details in form of different fonts. I think be able to remember all the numbers and alphabet on the keyboard you are typing is already difficult. Such Item is an example how complicate things become. This information is back up from some magic book I neither own or know the title but it was about getting an item and observe and then close the eyes and remember as many details as possible, open and seek what was missing and correcting when it was plain wrong. --------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Well I read through chapter 6/22 and have gained such insight until then. Maybe something to add ... I will edit then below the line above. Typing is more time consuming then reading. Update: So I end up reading the whole book yesterday, result in throwing sentimental stuff away, like old video games, cd and mangas and plush and figurines. For videogames I have some word to say. Mostly the theme is "one against all" from the symbolic and for the association it isnt nice to have such theme in life. Also even it is that one start to do things on one own. I read in yesterday something like "being a team isn't just about to protect others getting protected is also a team" quote from a translation in 'Kuroko no Basku'. Shocking was I found even a book I not even remember when I bought it and cds I never listen to. I whole get rid of 40 kilos of stuff in three bags. I found the book until chapter 15 really interesting then it is read like a repetition on 'Simplify My Life'(Good book to organize ones life but has not much of the psychological stuff of space clearing and de-cluttering and its influence on the Feng Shui). So now I look.... Chapter 12 is about Books and this one was hitting me hard. Having Books for substitute for Relationships was said in that chapter. By the idea of to make the book express the momentary development I through some books away. (Imagine someone has in his room 80% free space and still through away 1/2 of the 20%) Well it cut me 4 hour of recompensation sleep from the week, seem to work this decluttering, I had belly ache while throwing the sentimental stuffs away. I have then put all stuff I havent read and listen or experiment with on the same place. I can say its a odd feeling to see such mental distortion when watching it - really pull energy down . Update: Aiya, there where stuff that where so boring I throw them away. Truly one wants a lots things to archieve as it seems to be nice to be able to do that, but well... if one has it and one not use - like drawing Manga. I have a whole set for how to draw Manga, someone who actually draw will inherit them. It was a nice dream.

It would be so grand if we could rejuvenate our soil to higher brix values. Vegetation high in brix value does not get targeted by insects, as they are high in mineral content and are unappealing. These vegetables are brimming with phytochemicals that are vital for good immune function. One of the predatory quality checks held by nature, the low mineral content soil grows vegetation that appeals to insects. The insects clear out the vegetation and things get a chance to recalibrate to a higher mineral content. We'd require far fewer pesticides if we'd grow more in accord with nature and on a smaller scale. That is unfortunately just a pipe dream given the nature of conditions here and now. I've spent some time on water fasts and a couple of various detoxes and can relate to you on the emotional experiences related to various food types. Not to mention the state of intention/mind of the one who prepares what I eat, that can be really profound! I hadn't ever considered the emotional dampening affect of fat deposits. Huge impact on the ability to take in, move and express subtle energy. That really rang the bell for me. Thanks!

* Last night my wife and I watched one of the most wonderful documentaries I've ever seen. It struck me this way because it was about someone whom I regard as one of the most heroic champions of every form of living being on our planet that our modern age has ever produced. Who else, but .... David Attenborough. It was the first show in a retrospective of his life's work to bring visual and mental awareness of the phenomenal beauty, (far beyond almost any one person's ability to conceive), of our living planet. Attenborough's growing and constantly evolving dream was to be able to share his discoveries and insights about nature with any person who had access to the medium of television. For me, the film footage of his 60 years of nature programs was touching, heart-warming, and profoundly inspiring. Amongst those scenes was one that unexpectedly re-activated a long-buried memory of the most gripping short story of my early high school days. In English one year we were obliged to read "Leiningen Versus the Ants". In last night's program, one of Attenborough's short clips showed the terrifying reality behind this insect army on the march and led me to search for this old, half-remembered story on Google. Luckily, against any logical expectation, someone had placed a copy of it there. I re-read it, ( found myself once more immediately gripped by the same powerful adrenaline rush of mind-paralysing fear and desperate efforts to survive),.... and decided to paste a copy here for anyone who might not have had the good fortune to be forced by their own teachers to expand their reading experience into this previously unimagined domain. It's a bit long, but what the hell. Cyberspace is limitless, and the thrill is 'intense !' : * * Leiningen Versus the Ants by Carl Stephenson (1893-1954) * "Unless they alter their course, (and there's no reason why they should), they'll reach your plantation in two days at the latest." Leiningen sucked placidly at a cigar about the size of a corncob and for a few seconds gazed without answering at the agitated District Commissioner. Then he took the cigar from his lips, and leaned slightly forward. With his bristling grey hair, bulky nose, and lucid eyes, he had the look of an aging and shabby eagle. "Decent of you," he murmured, "paddling all this way just to give me the tip. But you're pulling my leg of course when you say I must do a bunk. Why, even a herd of saurians couldn't drive me from this plantation of mine." The Brazilian official threw up lean and lanky arms and clawed the air with wildly distended fingers. "Leiningen!" he shouted. "You're insane! They're not creatures you can fight--they're an elemental--an 'act of God!' Ten miles long, two miles wide--ants, nothing but ants! And every single one of them a fiend from hell; before you can spit three times they'll eat a full-grown buffalo to the bones. I tell you if you don't clear out at once there'll he nothing left of you but a skeleton picked as clean as your own plantation." Leiningen grinned. "Act of God, my eye! Anyway, I'm not an old woman; I'm not going to run for it just because an elemental's on the way. And don't think I'm the kind of fathead who tries to fend off lightning with his fists either. I use my intelligence, old man. With me, the brain isn't a second blind gut; I know what it's there for. When I began this model farm and plantation three years ago, I took into account all that could conceivably happen to it. And now I'm ready for anything and everything--including your ants." The Brazilian rose heavily to his feet. "I've done my best," he gasped. "Your obstinacy endangers not only yourself, but the lives of your four hundred workers. You don't know these ants!" Leiningen accompanied him down to the river, where the Government launch was moored. The vessel cast off. As it moved downstream, the exclamation mark neared the rail and began waving its arms frantically. Long after the launch had disappeared round the bend, Leiningen thought he could still hear that dimming imploring voice, "You don't know them, I tell you! You don't know them!" But the reported enemy was by no means unfamiliar to the planter. Before he started work on his settlement, he had lived long enough in the country to see for himself the fearful devastations sometimes wrought by these ravenous insects in their campaigns for food. But since then he had planned measures of defence accordingly, and these, he was convinced were in every way adequate to withstand the approaching peril. Moreover, during his three years as a planter, Leiningen had met and defeated drought, Hood, plague and all other "acts of God" which had come against him-unlike his fellow-settlers in the district, who had made little or no resistance. This unbroken success he attributed solely to the observance of his lifelong motto: The human brain needs only to become fully aware of its powers to conquer even the elements. Dullards reeled senselessly and aimlessly into the abyss; cranks, however brilliant, lost their heads when circumstances suddenly altered or accelerated and ran into stone walls, sluggards drifted with the current until they were caught in whirlpools and dragged under. But such disasters, Leiningen contended, merely strengthened his argument that intelligence, directed aright, invariably makes man the master of his fate. Yes, Leiningen had always known how to grapple with life. Even here, in this Brazilian wilderness, his brain had triumphed over every difficulty and danger it had so far encountered. First he had vanquished primal forces by cunning and organization, then he had enlisted the resources of modern science to increase miraculously the yield of his plantation. And now he was sure he would prove more than a match for the "irresistible" ants. That same evening, however, Leiningen assembled his workers. He had no intention of waiting till the news reached their ears from other sources. Most of them had been born in the district; the cry "The ants are coming!'" was to them an imperative signal for instant, panic-stricken flight, a spring for life itself. But so great was the Indians' trust in Leiningen, in Leiningen's word, and in Leiningen's wisdom, that they received his curt tidings, and his orders for the imminent struggle, with the calmness with which they were given. They waited, unafraid, alert, as if for the beginning of a new game or hunt which he had just described to them. The ants were indeed mighty, but not so mighty as the boss. Let them come! They came at noon the second day. Their approach was announced by the wild unrest of the horses, scarcely controllable now either in stall or under rider, scenting from afar a vapour instinct with horror. It was announced by a stampede of animals, timid and savage, hurtling past each other; jaguars and pumas flashing by nimble stags of the pampas, bulky tapirs, no longer hunters, themselves hunted, outpacing fleet kinkajous, maddened herds of cattle, heads lowered, nostrils snorting, rushing through tribes of loping monkeys, chattering in a dementia of terror; then followed the creeping and springing denizens of bush and steppe, big and little rodents, snakes, and lizards. Pell-mell the rabble swarmed down the hill to the plantation, scattered right and left before the barrier of the water-filled ditch, then sped onwards to the river, where, again hindered, they fled along its bank out of sight. This water-filled ditch was one of the defence measures which Leiningen had long since prepared against the advent of the ants. It encompassed three sides of the plantation like a huge horseshoe. Twelve feet across, but not very deep, when dry it could hardly be described as an obstacle to either man or beast. But the ends of the "horseshoe" ran into the river which formed the northern boundary, and fourth side, of the plantation. And at the end nearer the house and outbuildings in the middle of the plantation, Leiningen had constructed a dam by means of which water from the river could be diverted into the ditch. So now, by opening the dam, he was able to fling an imposing girdle of water, a huge quadrilateral with the river as its base, completely around the plantation, like the moat encircling a medieval city. Unless the ants were clever enough to build rafts. they had no hope of reaching the plantation, Leiningen concluded. The twelve-foot water ditch seemed to afford in itself all the security needed. But while awaiting the arrival of the ants, Leiningen made a further improvement. The western section of the ditch ran along the edge of a tamarind wood, and the branches of some great trees reached over the water. Leiningen now had them lopped so that ants could not descend from them within the "moat." The women and children, then the herds of cattle, were escorted by peons on rafts over the river, to remain on the other side in absolute safety until the plunderers had departed. Leiningen gave this instruction, not because he believed the non-combatants were in any danger, but in order to avoid hampering the efficiency of the defenders. "Critical situations first become crises," he explained to his men, "when oxen or women get excited " Finally, he made a careful inspection of the "inner moat"--a smaller ditch lined with concrete, which extended around the hill on which stood the ranch house, barns, stables and other buildings. Into this concrete ditch emptied the inflow pipes from three great petrol tanks. If by some miracle the ants managed to cross the water and reached the plantation, this "rampart of petrol,' would be an absolutely impassable protection for the besieged and their dwellings and stock. Such, at least, was Leiningen's opinion. He stationed his men at irregular distances along the water ditch, the first line of defence. Then he lay down in his hammock and puffed drowsily away at his pipe until a peon came with the report that the ants had been observed far away in the South. Leiningen mounted his horse, which at the feel of its master seemed to forget its uneasiness, and rode leisurely in the direction of the threatening offensive. The southern stretch of ditch--the upper side of the quadrilateral--was nearly three miles long; from its centre one could survey the entire countryside. This was destined to be the scene of the outbreak of war between Leiningen's brain and twenty square miles of life-destroying ants. It was a sight one could never forget. Over the range of hills, as far as eye could see, crept a darkening hem, ever longer and broader, until the shadow spread across the slope from east to west, then downwards, downwards, uncannily swift, and all the green herbage of that wide vista was being mown as by a giant sickle, leaving only the vast moving shadow, extending, deepening, and moving rapidly nearer. When Leiningen's men, behind their barrier of water, perceived the approach of the long-expected foe, they gave vent to their suspense in screams and imprecations. But as the distance began to lessen between the "sons of hell" and the water ditch, they relapsed into silence. Before the advance of that awe-inspiring throng, their belief in the powers of the boss began to steadily dwindle. Even Leiningen himself, who had ridden up just in time to restore their loss of heart by a display of unshakable calm, even he could not free himself from a qualm of malaise. Yonder were thousands of millions of voracious jaws bearing down upon him and only a suddenly insignificant, narrow ditch lay between him and his men and being gnawed to the bones "before you can spit three times." Hadn't this brain for once taken on more than it could manage? If the blighters decided to rush the ditch, fill it to the brim with their corpses, there'd still be more than enough to destroy every trace of that cranium of his. The planter's chin jutted; they hadn't got him yet, and he'd see to it they never would. While he could think at all, he'd flout both death and the devil. The hostile army was approaching in perfect formation; no human battalions, however well-drilled, could ever hope to rival the precision of that advance. Along a front that moved forward as uniformly as a straight line, the ants drew nearer and nearer to the water ditch. Then, when they learned through their scouts the nature of the obstacle, the two outlying wings of the army detached themselves from the main body and marched down the western and eastern sides of the ditch. This surrounding manoeuvre took rather more than an hour to accomplish; no doubt the ants expected that at some point they would find a crossing. During this outflanking movement by the wings, the army on the centre and southern front remained still. The besieged were therefore able to contemplate at their leisure the thumb-long, reddish black, long-legged insects; some of the Indians believed they could see, too, intent on them, the brilliant, cold eyes, and the razor-edged mandibles, of this host of infinity. It is not easy for the average person to imagine that an animal, not to mention an insect, can think. But now both the European brain of Leiningen and the primitive brains of the Indians began to stir with the unpleasant foreboding that inside every single one of that deluge of insects dwelt a thought. And that thought was: Ditch or no ditch, we'll get to your flesh! * Not until four o'clock did the wings reach the "horseshoe" ends of the ditch, only to find these ran into the great river. Through some kind of secret telegraphy, the report must then have flashed very swiftly indeed along the entire enemy line. And Leiningen, riding--no longer casually--along his side of the ditch, noticed by energetic and widespread movements of troops that for some unknown reason the news of the check had its greatest effect on the southern front, where the main army was massed. Perhaps the failure to find a way over the ditch was persuading the ants to withdraw from the plantation in search of spoils more easily attainable. An immense flood of ants, about a hundred yards in width, was pouring in a glimmering-black cataract down the far slope of the ditch. Many thousands were already drowning in the sluggish creeping flow, but they were followed by troop after troop, who clambered over their sinking comrades, and then themselves served as dying bridges to the reserves hurrying on in their rear. Shoals of ants were being carried away by the current into the middle of the ditch, where gradually they broke asunder and then, exhausted by their struggles, vanished below the surface. Nevertheless, the wavering, floundering hundred-yard front was remorselessly if slowly advancing towards the besieged on the other bank. Leiningen had been wrong when he supposed the enemy would first have to fill the ditch with their bodies before they could cross; instead, they merely needed to act as steppingstones, as they swam and sank, to the hordes ever pressing onwards from behind. Near Leiningen a few mounted herdsmen awaited his orders. He sent one to the weir-the river must be dammed more strongly to increase the speed and power of the water coursing through the ditch. A second peon was dispatched to the outhouses to bring spades and petrol sprinklers. A third rode away to summon to the zone of the offensive all the men, except the observation posts, on the near-by sections of the ditch, which were not yet actively threatened. The ants were getting across far more quickly than Leiningen would have deemed possible. Impelled by the mighty cascade behind them, they struggled nearer and nearer to the inner bank. The momentum of the attack was so great that neither the tardy flow of the stream nor its downward pull could exert its proper force; and into the gap left by every submerging insect, hastened forward a dozen more. When reinforcements reached Leiningen, the invaders were halfway over. The planter had to admit to himself that it was only by a stroke of luck for him that the ants were attempting the crossing on a relatively short front: had they assaulted simultaneously along the entire length of the ditch, the outlook for the defenders would have been black indeed. Even as it was, it could hardly be described as rosy, though the planter seemed quite unaware that death in a gruesome form was drawing closer and closer. As the war between his brain and the "act of God'' reached its climax, the very shadow of annihilation began to pale to Leiningen, who now felt like a champion in a new Olympic game, a gigantic and thrilling contest, from which he was determined to emerge victor. Such, indeed, was his aura of confidence that the Indians forgot their stupefied fear of the peril only a yard or two away; under the planter's supervision, they began fervidly digging up to the edge of the bank and throwing clods of earth and spadefuls of sand into the midst of the hostile fleet. The petrol sprinklers, hitherto used to destroy pests and blights on the plantation, were also brought into action. Streams of evil-reeking oil now soared and fell over an enemy already in disorder through the bombardment of earth and sand. The ants responded to these vigorous and successful measures of defence by further developments of their offensive. Entire clumps of huddling insects began to roll down the opposite bank into the water. At the same time, Leiningen noticed that the ants were now attacking along an ever-widening front. As the numbers both of his men and his petrol sprinklers were severely limited, this rapid extension of the line of battle was becoming an overwhelming danger. To add to his difficulties, the very clods of earth they flung into that black floating carpet often whirled fragments toward the defenders' side, and here and there dark ribbons were already mounting the inner bank. True, wherever a man saw these they could still be driven back into the water by spadefuls of earth or jets of petrol. But the file of defenders was too sparse and scattered to hold off at all points these landing parties, and though the peons toiled like madmen, their plight became momentarily more perilous. One man struck with his spade at an enemy clump, did not draw it back quickly enough from the water; in a trice the wooden shaft swarmed with upward scurrying insects. With a curse, he dropped the spade into the ditch; too late, they were already on his body. They lost no time; wherever they encountered bare flesh they bit deeply; a few, bigger than the rest, carried in their hind-quarters a sting which injected a burning and paralyzing venom. Screaming, frantic with pain, the peon danced and twirled like a dervish. Realizing that another such casualty, yes, perhaps this alone, might plunge his men into confusion and destroy their morale, Leiningen roared in a bellow louder than the yells of the victim: "Into the petrol, idiot! Douse your paws in the petrol!" The dervish ceased his pirouette as if transfixed, then tore of his shirt and plunged his arm and the ants hanging to it up to the shoulder in one of the large open tins of petrol. But even then the fierce mandibles did not slacken; another peon had to help him squash and detach each separate insect. Distracted by the episode, some defenders had turned away from the ditch. And now cries of fury, a thudding of spades, and a wild trampling to and fro, showed that the ants had made full use of the interval, though luckily only a few had managed to get across. The men set to work again desperately with the barrage of earth and sand. Meanwhile an old Indian, who acted as medicine-man to the plantation workers, gave the bitten peon a drink he had prepared some hours before, which, he claimed, possessed the virtue of dissolving and weakening ants' venom. Leiningen surveyed his position. A dispassionate observer would have estimated the odds against him at a thousand to one. But then such an on-looker would have reckoned only by what he saw--the advance of myriad battalions of ants against the futile efforts of a few defenders--and not by the unseen activity that can go on in a man's brain. For Leiningen had not erred when he decided he would fight elemental with elemental. The water in the ditch was beginning to rise; the stronger damming of the river was making itself apparent. Visibly the swiftness and power of the masses of water increased, swirling into quicker and quicker movement its living black surface, dispersing its pattern, carrying away more and more of it on the hastening current. Victory had been snatched from the very jaws of defeat. With a hysterical shout of joy, the peons feverishly intensified their bombardment of earth clods and sand. And now the wide cataract down the opposite bank was thinning and ceasing, as if the ants were becoming aware that they could not attain their aim. They were scurrying back up the slope to safety. All the troops so far hurled into the ditch had been sacrificed in vain. Drowned and floundering insects eddied in thousands along the flow, while Indians running on the bank destroyed every swimmer that reached the side. Not until the ditch curved towards the east did the scattered ranks assemble again in a coherent mass. And now, exhausted and half-numbed, they were in no condition to ascend the bank. Fusillades of clods drove them round the bend towards the mouth of the ditch and then into the river, wherein they vanished without leaving a trace. The news ran swiftly along the entire chain of outposts, and soon a long scattered line of laughing men could be seen hastening along the ditch towards the scene of victory. For once they seemed to have lost all their native reserve, for it was in wild abandon now they celebrated the triumph--as if there were no longer thousands of millions of merciless, cold and hungry eyes watching them from the opposite bank, watching and waiting. The sun sank behind the rim of the tamarind wood and twilight deepened into night. It was not only hoped but expected that the ants would remain quiet until dawn. "But to defeat any forlorn attempt at a crossing, the flow of water through the ditch was powerfully increased by opening the dam still further. In spite of this impregnable barrier, Leiningen was not yet altogether convinced that the ants would not venture another surprise attack. He ordered his men to camp along the bank overnight. He also detailed parties of them to patrol the ditch in two of his motor cars and ceaselessly to illuminate the surface of the water with headlights and electric torches. After having taken all the precautions he deemed necessary, the farmer ate his supper with considerable appetite and went to bed. His slumbers were in no wise disturbed by the memory of the waiting, live, twenty square miles. Dawn found a thoroughly refreshed and active Leiningen riding along the edge of the ditch. The planter saw before him a motionless and unaltered throng of besiegers. He studied the wide belt of water between them and the plantation, and for a moment almost regretted that the fight had ended so soon and so simply. In the comforting, matter-of-fact light of morning, it seemed to him now that the ants hadn't the ghost of a chance to cross the ditch. Even if they plunged headlong into it on all three fronts at once, the force of the now powerful current would inevitably sweep them away. He had got quite a thrill out of the fight--a pity it was already over. He rode along the eastern and southern sections of the ditch and found everything in order. He reached the western section, opposite the tamarind wood, and here, contrary to the other battle fronts, he found the enemy very busy indeed. The trunks and branches of the trees and the creepers of the lianas, on the far bank of the ditch, fairly swarmed with industrious insects. But instead of eating the leaves there and then, they were merely gnawing through the stalks, so that a thick green shower fell steadily to the ground. No doubt they were victualing columns sent out to obtain provender for the rest of the army. The discovery did not surprise Leiningen. He did not need to be told that ants are intelligent, that certain species even use others as milch cows, watchdogs and slaves. He was well aware of their power of adaptation, their sense of discipline, their marvellous talent for organization. His belief that a foray to supply the army was in progress was strengthened when he saw the leaves that fell to the ground being dragged to the troops waiting outside the wood. Then all at once he realized the aim that rain of green was intended to serve. Each single leaf, pulled or pushed by dozens of toiling insects, was borne straight to the edge of the ditch. Even as Macbeth watched the approach of Birnam Wood in the hands of his enemies, Leiningen saw the tamarind wood move nearer and nearer in the mandibles of the ants. Unlike the fey Scot, however, he did not lose his nerve; no witches had prophesied his doom, and if they had he would have slept just as soundly. All the same, he was forced to admit to himself that the situation was far more ominous than that of the day before. He had thought it impossible for the ants to build rafts for themselves--well, here they were, coming in thousands, more than enough to bridge the ditch. Leaves after leaves rustled down the slope into the water, where the current drew them away from the bank and carried them into midstream. And every single leaf carried several ants. This time the farmer did not trust to the alacrity of his messengers. He galloped away, leaning from his saddle and yelling orders as he rushed past outpost after outpost: "Bring petrol pumps to the southwest front! Issue spades to every man along the line facing the wood!" And arrived at the eastern and southern sections, he dispatched every man except the observation posts to the menaced west. Then, as he rode past the stretch where the ants had failed to cross the day before, he witnessed a brief but impressive scene. Down the slope of the distant hill there came towards him a singular being, writhing rather man running, an animal-like blackened statue with shapeless head and four quivering feet that knuckled under almost ceaselessly. When the creature reached the far bank of the ditch and collapsed opposite Leiningen, he recognized it as a pampas stag, covered over and over with ants. It had strayed near the zone of the army. As usual, they had attacked its eyes first. Blinded, it had reeled in the madness of hideous torment straight into the ranks of its persecutors, and now the beast swayed to and fro in its death agony. With a shot from his rifle Leiningen put it out of its misery. Then he pulled out his watch. He hadn't a second to lose, but for life itself he could not have denied his curiosity the satisfaction of knowing how long the ants would take--for personal reasons, so to speak. After six minutes the white polished bones alone remained. That's how he himself would look before you can--Leiningen spat once, and put spurs to his horse. The sporting zest with which the excitement of the novel contest had inspired him the day before had now vanished; in its place was a cold and violent purpose. He would send these vermin back to the hell where they belonged, somehow, anyhow. Yes, but how was indeed the question; as things stood at present it looked as if the devils would raze him and his men from the earth instead. He had underestimated the might of the enemy; he really would have to bestir himself if he hoped to outwit them. The biggest danger now, he decided, was the point where the western section of the ditch curved southwards. And arrived there, he found his worst expectations justified. The very power of the current had huddled the leaves and their crews of ants so close together at the bend that the bridge was almost ready. True, streams of petrol and clumps of earth still prevented a landing. But the number of floating leaves was increasing ever more swiftly. It could not be long now before a stretch of water a mile in length was decked by a green pontoon over which the ants could rush in millions. Leiningen galloped to the weir. The damming of the river was controlled by a wheel on its bank. The planter ordered the man at the wheel first to lower the water in the ditch almost to vanishing point, next to wait a moment, then suddenly to let the river in again. This manoeuvre of lowering and raising the surface, of decreasing then increasing the flow of water through the ditch was to be repeated over and over again until further notice. This tactic was at first successful. The water in the ditch sank, and with it the film of leaves. The green fleet nearly reached the bed and the troops on the far bank swarmed down the slope to it. Then a violent flow of water at the original depth raced through the ditch, overwhelming leaves and ants, and sweeping them along. This intermittent rapid flushing prevented just in time the almost completed fording of the ditch. But it also flung here and there squads of the enemy vanguard simultaneously up the inner bank. These seemed to know their duty only too well, and lost no time accomplishing it. The air rang with the curses of bitten Indians. They had removed their shirts and pants to detect the quicker the upwards-hastening insects; when they saw one, they crushed it; and fortunately the onslaught as yet was only by skirmishers. Again and again, the water sank and rose, carrying leaves and drowned ants away with it. It lowered once more nearly to its bed; but this time the exhausted defenders waited in vain for the flush of destruction. Leiningen sensed disaster; something must have gone wrong with the machinery of the dam. Then a sweating peon tore up to him-- "They're over!" While the besieged were concentrating upon the defence of the stretch opposite the wood, the seemingly unaffected line beyond the wood had become the theatre of decisive action. Here the defenders' front was sparse and scattered; everyone who could be spared had hurried away to the south. Just as the man at the weir had lowered the water almost to the bed of the ditch, the ants on a wide front began another attempt at a direct crossing like that of the preceding day. Into the emptied bed poured an irresistible throng. Rushing across the ditch, they attained the inner bank before the slow-witted Indians fully grasped the situation. Their frantic screams dumfounded the man at the weir. Before he could direct the river anew into the safeguarding bed he saw himself surrounded by raging ants. He ran like the others, ran for his life. When Leiningen heard this, he knew the plantation was doomed. He wasted no time bemoaning the inevitable. For as long as there was the slightest chance of success, he had stood his ground, and now any further resistance was both useless and dangerous. He fired three revolver shots into the air--the prearranged signal for his men to retreat instantly within the "inner moat." Then he rode towards the ranch house. This was two miles from the point of invasion. There was therefore time enough to prepare the second line of defence against the advent of the ants. Of the three great petrol cisterns near the house, one had already been half emptied by the constant withdrawals needed for the pumps during the fight at the water ditch. The remaining petrol in it was now drawn off through underground pipes into the concrete trench which encircled the ranch house and its outbuildings. And there, drifting in twos and threes, Leiningen's men reached him. Most of them were obviously trying to preserve an air of calm and indifference, belied, however, by their restless glances and knitted brows. One could see their belief in a favourable outcome of the struggle was already considerably shaken. The planter called his peons around him. "Well, lads," he began, "we've lost the first round. But we'll smash the beggars yet, don't you worry. Anyone who thinks otherwise can draw his pay here and now and push off. There are rafts enough to spare on the river and plenty of time still to reach 'em." Not a man stirred. Leiningen acknowledged his silent vote of confidence with a laugh that was half a grunt. "That's the stuff, lads. Too bad if you'd missed the rest of the show, eh? Well, the fun won't start till morning. Once these blighters turn tail, there'll be plenty of work for everyone and higher wages all round. And now run along and get something to eat; you've earned it all right." In the excitement of the fight the greater part of the day had passed without the men once pausing to snatch a bite. Now that the ants were for the time being out of sight, and the "wall of petrol" gave a stronger feeling of security, hungry stomachs began to assert their claims. The bridges over the concrete ditch were removed. Here and there solitary ants had reached the ditch; they gazed at the petrol meditatively, then scurried back again. Apparently they had little interest at the moment for what lay beyond the evil-reeking barrier; the abundant spoils of the plantation were the main attraction. Soon the trees, shrubs and beds for miles around were hulled with ants zealously gobbling the yield of long weary months of strenuous toil. As twilight began to fall, a cordon of ants marched around the petrol trench, but as yet made no move towards its brink. Leiningen posted sentries with headlights and electric torches, then withdrew to his office, and began to reckon up his losses. He estimated these as large, but, in comparison with his bank balance, by no means unbearable. He worked out in some detail a scheme of intensive cultivation which would enable him, before very long, to more than compensate himself for the damage now being wrought to his crops. It was with a contented mind that he finally betook himself to bed where he slept deeply until dawn, undisturbed by any thought that next day little more might be left of him than a glistening skeleton. He rose with the sun and went out on the flat roof of his house. And a scene like one from Dante lay around him; for miles in every direction there was nothing but a black, glittering multitude, a multitude of rested, sated, but none the less voracious ants: yes, look as far as one might, one could see nothing but that rustling black throng, except in the north, where the great river drew a boundary they could not hope to pass. But even the high stone breakwater, along the bank of the river, which Leiningen had built as a defence against inundations, was, like the paths, the shorn trees and shrubs, the ground itself, black with ants. So their greed was not glutted in razing that vast plantation? Not by a long shot; they were all the more eager now on a rich and certain booty--four hundred men, numerous horses, and bursting granaries. At first it seemed that the petrol trench would serve its purpose. The besiegers sensed the peril of swimming it, and made no move to plunge blindly over its brink. Instead they devised a better manoeuvre; they began to collect shreds of bark, twigs and dried leaves and dropped these into the petrol. Everything green, which could have been similarly used, had long since been eaten. After a time, though, a long procession could be seen bringing from the west the tamarind leaves used as rafts the day before. Since the petrol, unlike the water in the outer ditch, was perfectly still, the refuse stayed where it was thrown. It was several hours before the ants succeeded in covering an appreciable part of the surface. At length, however, they were ready to proceed to a direct attack. Their storm troops swarmed down the concrete side, scrambled over the supporting surface of twigs and leaves, and impelled these over the few remaining streaks of open petrol until they reached the other side. Then they began to climb up this to make straight for the helpless garrison. During the entire offensive, the planter sat peacefully, watching them with interest, but not stirring a muscle. Moreover, he had ordered his men not to disturb in any way whatever the advancing horde. So they squatted listlessly along the bank of the ditch and waited for a sign from the boss. The petrol was now covered with ants. A few had climbed the inner concrete wall and were scurrying towards the defenders. "Everyone back from the ditch!" roared Leiningen. The men rushed away, without the slightest idea of his plan. He stooped forward and cautiously dropped into the ditch a stone which split the floating carpet and its living freight, to reveal a gleaming patch of petrol. A match spurted, sank down to the oily surface--Leiningen sprang back; in a flash a towering rampart of fire encompassed the garrison. This spectacular and instant repulse threw the Indians into ecstasy. They applauded, yelled and stamped, like children at a pantomime. Had it not been for the awe in which they held the boss, they would infallibly have carried him shoulder high. It was some time before the petrol burned down to the bed of the ditch, and the wall of smoke and flame began to lower. The ants had retreated in a wide circle from the devastation, and innumerable charred fragments along the outer bank showed that the flames had spread from the holocaust in the ditch well into the ranks beyond, where they had wrought havoc far and wide. Yet the perseverance of the ants was by no means broken; indeed, each setback seemed only to whet it. The concrete cooled, the flicker of the dying flames wavered and vanished, petrol from the second tank poured into the trench--and the ants marched forward anew to the attack. The foregoing scene repeated itself in every detail, except that on this occasion less time was needed to bridge the ditch, for the petrol was now already filmed by a layer of ash. Once again they withdrew; once again petrol flowed into the ditch. Would the creatures never learn that their self-sacrifice was utterly senseless? It really was senseless, wasn't it? Yes, of course it was senseless--provided the defenders had an unlimited supply of petrol. When Leiningen reached this stage of reasoning, he felt for the first time since the arrival of the ants that his confidence was deserting him. His skin began to creep; he loosened his collar. Once the devils were over the trench there wasn't a chance in hell for him and his men. God, what a prospect, to be eaten alive like that! For the third time the flames immolated the attacking troops, and burned down to extinction. Yet the ants were coming on again as if nothing had happened. And meanwhile Leiningen had made a discovery that chilled him to the bone-petrol was no longer flowing into the ditch. Something must be blocking the outflow pipe of the third and last cistern-a snake or a dead rat? Whatever it was, the ants could be held off no longer, unless petrol could by some method be led from the cistern into the ditch. Then Leiningen remembered that in an outhouse nearby were two old disused fire engines. Spry as never before in their lives, the peons dragged them out of the shed, connected their pumps to the cistern, uncoiled and laid the hose. They were just in time to aim a stream of petrol at a column of ants that had already crossed and drive them back down the incline into the ditch. Once more an oily girdle surrounded the garrison, once more it was possible to hold the position--for the moment. It was obvious, however, that this last resource meant only the postponement of defeat and death. A few of the peons fell on their knees and began to pray; others, shrieking insanely, fired their revolvers at the black, advancing masses, as if they felt their despair was pitiful enough to sway fate itself to mercy. At length, two of the men's nerves broke: Leiningen saw a naked Indian leap over the north side of the petrol trench, quickly followed by a second. They sprinted with incredible speed towards the river. But their fleetness did not save them; long before they could attain the rafts, the enemy covered their bodies from head to foot. In the agony of their torment, both sprang blindly into the wide river, where enemies no less sinister awaited them. Wild screams of mortal anguish informed the breathless onlookers that crocodiles and sword-toothed piranhas were no less ravenous than ants, and even nimbler in reaching their prey. In spite of this bloody warning, more and more men showed they were making up their minds to run the blockade. Anything, even a fight midstream against alligators, seemed better than powerlessly waiting for death to come and slowly consume their living bodies. Leiningen flogged his brain till it reeled. Was there nothing on earth could sweep this devil's spawn back into the hell from which it came? Then out of the inferno of his bewilderment rose a terrifying inspiration. Yes, one hope remained, and one alone. It might be possible to dam the great river completely, so that its waters would fill not only the water ditch but overflow into the entire gigantic "saucer" of land in which lay the plantation. The far bank of the river was too high for the waters to escape that way. The stone breakwater ran between the river and the plantation; its only gaps occurred where the "horseshoe" ends of the water ditch passed into the river. So its waters would not only be forced to inundate into the plantation, they would also be held there by the breakwater until they rose to its own high level. In half an hour, perhaps even earlier, the plantation and its hostile army of occupation would be flooded. The ranch house and outbuildings stood upon rising ground. Their foundations were higher than the breakwater, so the flood would not reach them. And any remaining ants trying to ascend the slope could be repulsed by petrol. It was possible--yes, if one could only get to the dam! A distance of nearly two miles lay between the ranch house and the weir--two miles of ants. Those two peons had managed only a fifth of that distance at the cost of their lives. Was there an Indian daring enough after that to run the gauntlet five times as far? Hardly likely; and if there were, his prospect of getting back was almost nil. No, there was only one thing for it, he'd have to make the attempt himself; he might just as well be running as sitting still, anyway, when the ants finally got him. Besides, there was a bit of a chance. Perhaps the ants weren't so almighty, after all; perhaps he had allowed the mass suggestion of that evil black throng to hypnotize him, just as a snake fascinates and overpowers. The ants were building their bridges. Leiningen got up on a chair. "Hey, lads, listen to me!" he cried. Slowly and listlessly, from all sides of the trench, the men began to shuffle towards him, the apathy of death already stamped on their faces. "Listen, lads!" he shouted. "You're frightened of those beggars, but you're a damn sight more frightened of me, and I'm proud of you. There's still a chance to save our lives--by flooding the plantation from the river. Now one of you might manage to get as far as the weir--but he'd never come back. Well, I'm not going to let you try it; if I did I'd be worse than one of those ants. No, I called the tune, and now I'm going to pay the piper. "The moment I'm over the ditch, set fire to the petrol. That'll allow time for the flood to do the trick. Then all you have to do is wait here all snug and quiet till I'm back. Yes, I'm coming back, trust me"--he grinned--"when I've finished my slimming-cure." He pulled on high leather boots, drew heavy gauntlets over his hands, and stuffed the spaces between breeches and boots, gauntlets and arms, shirt and neck, with rags soaked in petrol. With close-fitting mosquito goggles he shielded his eyes, knowing too well the ants' dodge of first robbing their victim of sight. Finally, he plugged his nostrils and ears with cotton-wool, and let the peons drench his clothes with petrol. He was about to set off, when the old Indian medicine man came up to him; he had a wondrous salve, he said, prepared from a species of chafer whose odour was intolerable to ants. Yes, this odour protected these chafers from the attacks of even the most murderous ants. The Indian smeared the boss' boots, his gauntlets, and his face over and over with the extract. Leiningen then remembered the paralyzing effect of ants' venom, and the Indian gave him a gourd full of the medicine he had administered to the bitten peon at the water ditch. The planter drank it down without noticing its bitter taste; his mind was already at the weir. He started of towards the northwest corner of the trench. With a bound he was over--and among the ants. The beleaguered garrison had no opportunity to watch Leiningen's race against death. The ants were climbing the inner bank again-the lurid ring of petrol blazed aloft. For the fourth time that day the reflection from the fire shone on the sweating faces of the imprisoned men, and on the reddish-black cuirasses of their oppressors. The red and blue, dark-edged flames leaped vividly now, celebrating what? The funeral pyre of the four hundred, or of the hosts of destruction? Leiningen ran. He ran in long, equal strides, with only one thought, one sensation, in his being--he must get through. He dodged all trees and shrubs; except for the split seconds his soles touched the ground the ants should have no opportunity to alight on him. That they would get to him soon, despite the salve on his boots, the petrol in his clothes, he realized only too well, but he knew even more surely that he must, and that he would, get to the weir. Apparently the salve was some use after all; not until he reached halfway did he feel ants under his clothes, and a few on his face. Mechanically, in his stride, he struck at them, scarcely conscious of their bites. He saw he was drawing appreciably nearer the weir--the distance grew less and less--sank to five hundred--three--two--one hundred yards. Then he was at the weir and gripping the ant-hulled wheel. Hardly had he seized it when a horde of infuriated ants flowed over his hands, arms and shoulders. He started the wheel--before it turned once on its axis the swarm covered his face. Leiningen strained like a madman, his lips pressed tight; if he opened them to draw breath. . . . He turned and turned; slowly the dam lowered until it reached the bed of the river. Already the water was overflowing the ditch. Another minute, and the river was pouring through the near-by gap in the breakwater. The flooding of the plantation had begun. Leiningen let go the wheel. Now, for the first time, he realized he was coated from head to foot with a layer of ants. In spite of the petrol his clothes were full of them, several had got to his body or were clinging to his face. Now that he had completed his task, he felt the smart raging over his flesh from the bites of sawing and piercing insects. Frantic with pain, he almost plunged into the river. To be ripped and splashed to shreds by piranhas? Already he was running the return journey, knocking ants from his gloves and jacket, brushing them from his bloodied face, squashing them to death under his clothes. One of the creatures bit him just below the rim of his goggles; he managed to tear it away, but the agony of the bite and its etching acid drilled into the eye nerves; he saw now through circles of fire into a milky mist, then he ran for a time almost blinded, knowing that if he once tripped and fell.... The old Indian's brew didn't seem much good; it weakened the poison a bit, but didn't get rid of it. His heart pounded as if it would burst; blood roared in his ears; a giant's fist battered his lungs. Then he could see again, but the burning girdle of petrol appeared infinitely far away; he could not last half that distance. Swift-changing pictures flashed through his head, episodes in his life, while in another part of his brain a cool and impartial onlooker informed this ant-blurred, gasping, exhausted bundle named Leiningen that such a rushing panorama of scenes from one's past is seen only in the moment before death. A stone in the path . . . to weak to avoid it . . . the planter stumbled and collapsed. He tried to rise . . . he must be pinned under a rock . . . it was impossible . . . the slightest movement was impossible . . . . Then all at once he saw, starkly clear and huge, and, right before his eyes, furred with ants, towering and swaying in its death agony, the pampas stag. In six minutes--gnawed to the bones. God, he couldn't die like that! And something outside him seemed to drag him to his feet. He tottered. He began to stagger forward again. Through the blazing ring hurtled an apparition which, as soon as it reached the ground on the inner side, fell full length and did not move. Leiningen, at the moment he made that leap through the flames, lost consciousness for the first time in his life. As he lay there, with glazing eyes and lacerated face, he appeared a man returned from the grave. The peons rushed to him, stripped off his clothes, tore away the ants from a body that seemed almost one open wound; in some paces the bones were showing. They carried him into the ranch house. As the curtain of flames lowered, one could see in place of the illimitable host of ants an extensive vista of water. The thwarted river had swept over the plantation, carrying with it the entire army. The water had collected and mounted in the great "saucer," while the ants had in vain attempted to reach the hill on which stood the ranch house. The girdle of flames held them back. And so imprisoned between water and fire, they had been delivered into the annihilation that was their god. And near the farther mouth of the water ditch, where the stone mole had its second gap, the ocean swept the lost battalions into the river, to vanish forever. The ring of fire dwindled as the water mounted to the petrol trench, and quenched the dimming flames. The inundation rose higher and higher: because its outflow was impeded by the timber and underbrush it had carried along with it, its surface required some time to reach the top of the high stone breakwater and discharge over it the rest of the shattered army. It swelled over ant-stippled shrubs and bushes, until it washed against the foot of the knoll whereon the besieged had taken refuge. For a while an alluvial of ants tried again and again to attain this dry land, only to be repulsed by streams of petrol back into the merciless flood. Leiningen lay on his bed, his body swathed from head to foot in bandages. With fomentations and salves, they had managed to stop the bleeding, and had dressed his many wounds. Now they thronged around him, one question in every face. Would he recover? "He won't die," said the old man who had bandaged him, "if he doesn't want to.'' The planter opened his eyes. "Everything in order?'' he asked. "They're gone,'' said his nurse. "To hell." He held out to his master a gourd full of a powerful sleeping draught. Leiningen gulped it down. "I told you I'd come back," he murmured, "even if I am a bit streamlined." He grinned and shut his eyes. He slept. *

Ummm... Do you know anything about physicalism? The phrase "physicalist science" is an oxymoron of the highest order. Physicalism is a philosophy. It is predicated on the supposition that nothing exists beyond the current understanding of science. One of the modifications employed to avoid the obvious pitfall is to postulate some idealized future understanding of science and then arbitrarily & subjectively state which phenomena or classes of phenomena would be within this "future physics." Physicalism is an ego-protecting construct at odds with the principles of rationality. There is nothing scientific about it and most scientists I have spoken with over the years find it laughable, regardless of their personal beliefs. Are there some in academia and voicing their opinions in the media who have scientific credentials and who also espouse the philosophy of physicalism? Absolutely! They are, unfortunately, adrift in their own self-congratulatory dream. The three most important words in any scientist's vocabulary are "I don't know." Let me tell you a short story... In my senior year as a physics undergrad, the entire senior class was required to participate in a program of study called "senior seminar" -- in addition to all our other classes. Theoretical physicists, applied physicists, astrophysicists and astronomers alike were drawn together for a year-long lesson in humility. The entire physics & astronomy faculty body was involved. On a weekly basis, the students would be split into new teams and assigned a problem. Some were decidedly abstract while others seemed deceptively simple. Some which come to mind include "using Archimedes' method to determine the density of water as a function of temperature" and "determining the circular polarization of light as a function of aqueous sucrose concentration" and "identifying an unknown metal using Hooke's law." In each weekly experiment, we were given a single-sentence definition of the problem -- a problem which the overseeing faculty knew well -- and we then had to devise an experimental approach, identify needed equipment & supplies, ask permission to use those equipment and supplies (sometime the answer would be, "no, you need to find another way"), conduct the experiment as a team and then submit an individually prepared written report. Each Monday morning began with a debrief of the previous week's project and a new assignment. It was Friday, though, which was really interesting... Late Friday afternoon, the entire class met, in business attire, and the members of each team were separated. One member from each team went into a room with a member from every other team, and a panel of faculty members. One by one, the students had to stand before the room and give a formal presentation of this or her research. This was intentionally complicated by things like sometimes finding all the chalk had been removed or that the projector was missing, but the real complication was the question & answer period at the end. Each professor, knowing the experiment, knew the likely mistakes, challenges and misunderstandings, and intentionally raked us over the coals. Questions like, "did you account for the buoyancy caused by air when measuring the mass of that aluminum block?" (a critical detail in that Archimedes' method experiment, BTW) or "explain to us how you calibrated the thermometer you used for measuring temperature." We quickly learned that the absolute WORST thing you could do was not say "I don't know" (or "we didn't think about that" or some variation thereof). This senior seminar had three objectives. It cured us all of stage-fright (may surprise you to learn that not all physicists are extroverted social butterflies), it gave us confidence in our abilities to apply our knowledge to a vast array of situations AND (most importantly) it drove home to each of us how little we really comprehend & how critical it is to approach each new challenge with an open mind. I learned that lesson well, and many years later came to understand that the empty cup is to spiritual cultivation what the open mind is to intellectual cultivation.

* I've suddenly realised that Christmas time is fast approaching. Very soon all our London relations will be arriving and all the socialising and celebrations will quickly put paid to any communication here for quite some time. Before then, however, I will undoubtedly have finished my wonderful sunny sojourn in Corfu where I've been living over the last few weeks inside the pages of "My Family and Other Animals". Unfortunately, as the visible end of the book rapidly approaches, it seems like this will probably be my last chance to share some of the simple 'pleasures of living' that filled Gerald Durrell's magical childhood. I didn't want to leave 2013 on a spiritual story such as the one I added above. All of us have widely differing experiences and thoughts about what this invisible thing called "spirituality" actually is, (Or even, ‘IF’ there is such a thing at all). But there simply can’t be anyone who doesn’t love the simple, unadulterated release of shared laughter. Fortunately for us, alongside its unimaginable sufferings, life also seems to produce an inexhaustible supply of quirky and outrageous bubblings. Choosing an extract from literature's catalogue of the latter, (since it IS Christmas time, after all), last night I finished reading the heart-warming anecdote below. I found myself laughing so often throughout this passage that afterwards I thought it would make a wonderful pre-Christmas addition to the Tao Bums Chat Room as a kind of ‘spirit-lifter’ to top up the reader’s energies for this fast-approaching, annual onslaught of relatives. My yesterday’s reading suddenly seemed a charming serendipity. Shelter from the storm. * * Gerald Durrell wrote : SPRING had arrived and the island was sparkling with flowers. Lambs with flapping tails gambolled under the olives, crushing the yellow crocuses under their tiny hooves. Baby donkeys with bulbous and uncertain legs munched among the asphodels. The ponds and streams and ditches were tangled in chains of spotted toads' spawn, the tortoises were heaving aside their winter bedclothes of leaves and earth, and the first butterflies, winter-faded and frayed, were flitting wanly among the flowers. In the crisp, heady weather the family spent most of its time on the veranda, eating, sleeping, reading, or just simply arguing. It was here, once a week, that we used to congregate to read our mail which Spiro had brought out to us. The bulk of it consisted of gun catalogues for Leslie, fashion magazines for Margo, and animal journals for myself. Larry's post generally contained books and interminable letters from authors, artists, and musicians, about authors, artists, and musicians. Mother's contained a wedge of mail from various relatives, sprinkled with a few seed catalogues. As we browsed we would frequently pass remarks to one another, or read bits aloud. This was not done with any motive of sociability (for no other member of the family would listen, anyway), but merely because we seemed unable to extract the full flavour of our letters and magazines unless they were shared. Occasionally, however, an item of news would be sufficiently startling to rivet the family's attention on it, and this happened one day in spring when the sky was like blue glass, and we sat in the dappled shade of the vine, devouring our mail. 'Oh, this is nice Look... organdie with puffed sleeves ... I think I would prefer it in velvet, though ... or maybe a brocade top with a flared skirt. Now, that's nice... it would look good with long white gloves and one of those sort of summery hats, wouldn't it?’ A pause, the faint sound of Lugaretzia moaning in the dining-room, mingled with the rustle of paper. Roger yawned loudly, followed in succession by Puke and Widdle. 'God! What a beauty!. . . Just look at her . . . telescopic sight, bolt action.. .. What a beaut! Um ... a hundred and fifty . . . not really expensive, I suppose. . . . Now this is good value.... Let's see ... double-barrelled ... choke.... Yes ... I suppose one really needs something a bit heavier for ducks.' Roger scratched his ears in turn, twisting his head on one side, a look of bliss on his face, groaning gently with pleasure. Widdle lay down and closed his eyes. Puke vainly tried to catch a fly, his jaws clopping as he snapped at it. 'Ah! Antoine's had a poem accepted at last I Real talent there, if he can only dig down to it. Varlaine's starting a printing press in a stable. . . . Pah!... limited editions of his own works. Oh, God, George Bullock's trying his hand at portraits ... portraits, I ask you I He couldn't paint a candlestick. Good book here you should read, Mother: The Elizabethan Dramatists ... a wonderful piece of work . . . some fine stuff in it.... “ Roger worked his way over his hind-quarters in search of a flea, using his front teeth like a pair of hair-clippers, snuffling noisily to himself. Widdle twitched his legs and tail minutely, his ginger eyebrows going up and down in astonishment at his own dream. Puke lay down and pretended to be asleep, keeping an eye cocked for the fly to settle. 'Aunt Mabel's moved to Sussex. . . . She says Henry's passed all his exams and is going into a bank ... at least, I think it's a bank... her writing really is awful, in spite of that expensive education she's always boasting about.... Uncle Stephen's broken his leg, poor old dear . . . and done something to his bladder? . . . Oh, no, I see . . . really this writing ... he broke his leg falling off a ladder. . . . You'd think he'd have more sense than to go up a ladder at his age ... ridiculous.... Tom's married... one of the Garnet girls' Mother always left until the last a fat letter, addressed in large, firm, well-rounded handwriting, which was the monthly instalment from Great-aunt Hermione. Her letters invariably created an indignant uproar among the family, so we all put aside our mail and concentrated when Mother, with a sigh of resignation, unfurled the twenty odd pages, settled herself comfortably and began to read. 'She says that the doctors don't hold out much hope for her,' observed Mother. 'They haven't held out any hope for her for the last forty years and she's still as strong as an ox,' said Larry. 'She says she always thought it a little peculiar of us, rushing off to Greece like that, but they've just had a bad winter and she thinks that perhaps it was wise of us to choose such a salubrious climate.' 'Salubrious! What a word to use!' 'Oh, heavens!... oh, no... oh, Lord!...' 'What's the matter?' 'She says she wants to come and stay... the doctors have advised a warm climate!' 'No, I refuse! I couldn't bear it,' shouted Larry, leaping to his feet; 'it's bad enough being shown Lugaretzia's gums every morning, without having Great-aunt Hermione dying by inches all over the place. You'll have to put her off, Mother . . . tell her there's no room.' 'But I can't, dear; I told her in the last letter what a big villa we had.' 'She's probably forgotten,' said Leslie hopefully. 'She hasn't. She mentions it here . . . where is it? ... oh, yes, here you are: "As you now seem able to afford such an extensive establishment, I am sure, Louie dear, that you would not begrudge a small corner to an old woman who has not much longer to live." There you are! What on earth can we do?’ 'Write and tell her we've got an epidemic of smallpox raging out here, and send her a photograph of Margo's acne,' suggested Larry. 'Don't be silly, dear. Besides, I told her how healthy it is here.' 'Really, Mother, you are impossible!' exclaimed Larry angrily. 'I was looking forward to a nice quiet summer's work, with just a few select friends, and now we're going to be invaded by that evil old camel, smelling of mothballs and singing hymns in the lavatory.' 'Really, dear, you do exaggerate. And I don't know why you have to bring lavatories into it - I've never heard her sing hymns anywhere.' 'She does nothing else but sing hymns ... "Lead, Kindly Light", while everyone queues on the landing.' 'Well, anyway, we've got to think of a good excuse. I can't write and tell her we don't want her because she sings hymns.' 'Why not?' 'Don't be unreasonable, dear; after all, she is a relation.' 'What on earth's that got to do with it? Why should we have to fawn all over the old hag because she's a relation, when the really sensible thing to do would be to burn her at the stake.' 'She's not as bad as that,* protested Mother half-heartedly. 'My dear Mother, of all the foul relatives with which we are cluttered, she is definitely the worst. Why you keep in touch with her I cannot, for the life of me, imagine.' 'Well, I've got to answer her letters, haven't I?’ ‘Why? Just write "Gone Away" across them and send them back.' 'I couldn't do that, dear; they'd recognize my handwriting,' said Mother vaguely; 'besides, I've opened this now.' 'Can't one of us write and say you're ill?' suggested Margo. 'Yes, we'll say the doctors have given up hope,' said Leslie. ‘I’ll write the letter,' said Larry with relish. I'll get one of those lovely black-edged envelopes... that will add an air of verisimilitude to the whole thing.' 'You'll do nothing of the sort,' said Mother firmly. 'If you did that she'd come straight out to nurse me. You know what she is.' 'Why keep in touch with them; that's what I want to know,' asked Larry despairingly. 'What satisfaction does it give you? They're all either fossilized or mental.' 'Indeed, they're not mental,' said Mother indignantly. 'Nonsense, Mother. . . . Look at Aunt Bertha, keeping flocks of imaginary cats ... and there's Great Uncle Patrick, who wanders about nude and tells complete strangers how he killed whales with a pen-knife .... They're 'bats.' 'Well, they're queer; but they're all very old, and so they're bound to be. But they're not mental,’ explained Mother; adding candidly, 'Anyway, not enough to be put away.' 'Well, if we're going to be invaded by relations, there's only one thing to do,' said Larry resignedly. 'What's that?' inquired Mother, peering over her spectacles expectantly. 'We must move, of course.' ‘Move? Move where?' asked Mother, bewildered. 'Move to a smaller villa. Then you can write to all these zombies and tell them we haven't any room.' 'But don't be stupid, Larry. We can't keep moving. We moved here in order to cope with your friends.' 'Well, now we'll have to move to cope with the relations.' 'But we can't keep rushing to and fro about the island ... people will think we've gone mad.' 'They'll think we're even madder if that old harpy turns up. Honestly, Mother, I couldn't stand it if she came. I should probably borrow one of Leslie's guns and blow a hole in her corsets.' 'Larry! I do wish you wouldn't say things like that in front of Gerry.' 'I'm just warning you.' There was a pause, while Mother polished her spectacles feverishly. 'But it seems so ... so... eccentric to keep changing villas like that, dear,' she said at last. 'There's nothing eccentric about it,' said Larry, surprised; 'it's a perfectly logical thing to do.' 'Of course it is,' agreed Leslie; 'it's a sort of self-defence, anyway.' 'Do be sensible, Mother,' said Margo; 'after all, a change is as good as a feast.' So, bearing that novel proverb in mind, we moved. *

Other; It isn't that I 'don't know', but at the same time I do it because it is who I am. I started young with dream and shamanic work (not that I called it that or understood it as that at the time). Then I spent years ignoring it all. But somethings just don't leave you alone. It doesn't matter how many different directions you go in, its like a maze that keeps leading you to the same place despite the routes taken. My first esoteric teacher looked at me when we first met, and smiled, when I enquired they told me what they saw of a past life/lives of mine. So on the one hand I don't feel I have a choice. It is, er inevitable Best,

I've been following a Poll/Thread about "The Big Draw," desire, sexual energy & etc with interest and some amusement. I even jumped in with a couple questions, a silly comment, and a bit of topic obfuscation. In the thread there's a lot of discussion about controlling sexual energy, controlling orgasm, the meaning of desire and etc. http://www.thetaobums.com/index.php?showto...amp;#entry31417 My feeling about dreams is that they are very organic and closer to our natural beingness than our waking experiences. Though influenced by our waking states, dreams are not necessarily relevant to them. Of course I might be wrong about this. This morning I had a dream. A very pleasant dream. Later as I'm showering to prepare for work a thought pops into my huge, empty, cavernous head. The thought condensed into a question (questions actually) - questions that I don't have an answer for. What if you practice something like sexuality in one way in your waking life to cultivate a given end, yet in your dreams it gets done differently? Is there a dichotomy here? I'm curious to know people's thoughts about this, and the related questions: - Is the un-reined process in dreaming states a balance to the "cultivation" process in waking states? - If something gets done differently in dreams than the way it's done in waking states, does it mess with our holistic path? - Is what does on in dreams interesting, but really not greatly impactful on our whole being? I am asking largely in the context of sexuality and sexual energy. But answers in any context are appreciated because they all have relevance (at least to me at this point in time). Besides, I'm not a topic cop. I realize my vocabulary is a bit unorthodox, but I hope you get the gist of my question. Thanks for your thoughts.

Dogs are messengers of God. There are 40 references in The Bible or citations in Scripture to dogs. God's word is not accidental or happenstance. The writers God chose to communicate His message were inspired divinely to write what they wrote, as they wrote it. It is no accident there are 40 references in The Bible to dogs. Dogs are messengers of God in that "dog" specifically and purposefully was selected through divine inspiration to communicate the full measure of God through the context of the 40 Scriptural references or citations in The Bible. Whether Hebrew (kelev), Greek (kuōn), or Aramaic (kalbā), whether literal, metaphorical, or allegorical in syntax, in the context of communicating God's word, dogs are messengers of God. From Biblegateway, below are the 40 citations of dogs in The Bible. For the verse in textual context and the whole chapter of the respective book of The Bible, go to Biblegateway, enter "dog" in Keyword Search, and follow the links to the specific verse, the verse in textual context, and the verse in terms of the whole, respective book of The Bible. 1. Exodus 11:7 But among the Israelites not a dog will bark at any man or animal.' Then you will know that the LORD makes a distinction between Egypt and Israel. 2. Exodus 22:31 "You are to be my holy people. So do not eat the meat of an animal torn by wild beasts; throw it to the dogs. 3. Judges 7:5 So Gideon took the men down to the water. There the LORD told him, "Separate those who lap the water with their tongues like a dog from those who kneel down to drink." 4. 1 Samuel 17:43 He said to David, "Am I a dog, that you come at me with sticks?" And the Philistine cursed David by his gods. 5. 1 Samuel 24:14 "Against whom has the king of Israel come out? Whom are you pursuing? A dead dog? A flea? 6. 2 Samuel 3:8 Abner was very angry because of what Ish-Bosheth said and he answered, "Am I a dog's head-on Judah's side? This very day I am loyal to the house of your father Saul and to his family and friends. I haven't handed you over to David. Yet now you accuse me of an offense involving this woman! 7. 2 Samuel 9:8 Mephibosheth bowed down and said, "What is your servant, that you should notice a dead dog like me?" 8. 2 Samuel 16:9 Then Abishai son of Zeruiah said to the king, "Why should this dead dog curse my lord the king? Let me go over and cut off his head." 9. 1 Kings 14:11 Dogs will eat those belonging to Jeroboam who die in the city, and the birds of the air will feed on those who die in the country. The LORD has spoken!' 10. 1 Kings 16:4 Dogs will eat those belonging to Baasha who die in the city, and the birds of the air will feed on those who die in the country." 11. 1 Kings 21:19 Say to him, 'This is what the LORD says: Have you not murdered a man and seized his property?' Then say to him, 'This is what the LORD says: In the place where dogs licked up Naboth's blood, dogs will lick up your blood-yes, yours!' " 12. 1 Kings 21:23 "And also concerning Jezebel the LORD says: 'Dogs will devour Jezebel by the wall of Jezreel.' 13. 1 Kings 21:24 "Dogs will eat those belonging to Ahab who die in the city, and the birds of the air will feed on those who die in the country." 14. 1 Kings 22:38 They washed the chariot at a pool in Samaria (where the prostitutes bathed), and the dogs licked up his blood, as the word of the LORD had declared. 15. 2 Kings 8:13 Hazael said, "How could your servant, a mere dog, accomplish such a feat?" "The LORD has shown me that you will become king of Aram," answered Elisha. 16. 2 Kings 9:10 As for Jezebel, dogs will devour her on the plot of ground at Jezreel, and no one will bury her.' " Then he opened the door and ran. 17. 2 Kings 9:36 They went back and told Jehu, who said, "This is the word of the LORD that he spoke through his servant Elijah the Tishbite: On the plot of ground at Jezreel dogs will devour Jezebel's flesh. 18. Job 18:11 Terrors startle him on every side and dog his every step. 19. Job 30:1 "But now they mock me, men younger than I, whose fathers I would have disdained to put with my sheep dogs. 20. Psalm 22:16 Dogs have surrounded me; a band of evil men has encircled me, they have pierced my hands and my feet. 21. Psalm 22:20 Deliver my life from the sword, my precious life from the power of the dogs. 22. Psalm 59:6 They return at evening, snarling like dogs, and prowl about the city. 23. Psalm 59:14 They return at evening, snarling like dogs, and prowl about the city. 24. Psalm 68:23 that you may plunge your feet in the blood of your foes, while the tongues of your dogs have their share." 25. Proverbs 26:11 As a dog returns to its vomit, so a fool repeats his folly. 26. Proverbs 26:17 Like one who seizes a dog by the ears is a passer-by who meddles in a quarrel not his own. 27. Ecclesiastes 9:4 Anyone who is among the living has hope -even a live dog is better off than a dead lion! 28. Isaiah 56:10 Israel's watchmen are blind, they all lack knowledge; they are all mute dogs, they cannot bark; they lie around and dream, they love to sleep. 29. Isaiah 56:11 They are dogs with mighty appetites; they never have enough. They are shepherds who lack understanding; they all turn to their own way, each seeks his own gain. 30. Isaiah 66:3 But whoever sacrifices a bull is like one who kills a man, and whoever offers a lamb, like one who breaks a dog's neck; whoever makes a grain offering is like one who presents pig's blood, and whoever burns memorial incense, like one who worships an idol. They have chosen their own ways, and their souls delight in their abominations; 31. Jeremiah 15:3 "I will send four kinds of destroyers against them," declares the LORD, "the sword to kill and the dogs to drag away and the birds of the air and the beasts of the earth to devour and destroy. 32. Matthew 7:6 "Do not give dogs what is sacred; do not throw your pearls to pigs. If you do, they may trample them under their feet, and then turn and tear you to pieces. 33. Matthew 15:26 He replied, "It is not right to take the children's bread and toss it to their dogs." 34. Matthew 15:27 "Yes, Lord," she said, "but even the dogs eat the crumbs that fall from their masters' table." 35. Mark 7:27 "First let the children eat all they want," he told her, "for it is not right to take the children's bread and toss it to their dogs." 36. Mark 7:28 "Yes, Lord," she replied, "but even the dogs under the table eat the children's crumbs." 37. Luke 16:21 and longing to eat what fell from the rich man's table. Even the dogs came and licked his sores. 38. Philippians 3:2 Watch out for those dogs, those men who do evil, those mutilators of the flesh. 39. 2 Peter 2:22 Of them the proverbs are true: "A dog returns to its vomit," and, "A sow that is washed goes back to her wallowing in the mud." 40. Revelation 22:15 Outside are the dogs, those who practice magic arts, the sexually immoral, the murderers, the idolaters and everyone who loves and practices falsehood. Etymologically differentiated from the wolf (there are five references to "wolf" in The Bible), the domesticated dog is a messenger of God. http://voices.yahoo.com/dogs-bible-messengers-god-4139323.html

Most practitioners lucid dream though right? Or you probably mean all night every night sort of thing?

(source: http://indiagitasociety.org/uploads/Theory_of_Karma.pdf) Theory of Karma 1. What is Karma? Any action is Karma. An action can be physical, mental, or even verbal. Thinking is also an action. If you decide not to act it is also an action. 2. What are various types of Karma? Kriyaman karma- routine actions. Sanchit karma- accumulative actions. Prarabtha karma- ripe reaction (some call it luck ). How you decide to respond to these fruits is also an action. 3. What is good Karma? There is no such thing as “good” or “bad” in the theory of karma. Both bind you. A Good deed will have good consequences and bad deed will have painful results. 4. Why do good people seem to suffer more? Why do bad people appear luckier? The theory of karma is difficult to understand. “ Gahana karmno gati.” If you understand the theory, everything will make sense. Things happen as they should. 5. What is Nishkam Karma? Karma performed without selfishness is Nishkam karma (one without expection). Akarma is opposite of vikarma. Laziness is not Akarma. Few principles of Karma Theory 1. The karma theory has no exceptions. You cannot escape the consequences. The impact can be reduced or modified. How you respond to the “fruits” of your past action binds you to your next chain of Karma, modern science will interpret as genetic DNA decoding/genetic imprint, example: King Dasharatha and Shravana. 2. Experience of your level of pain/pleasure depends upon your Gunas- inner character. Three major gunas: Satvic (noble), Rajas (undeveloped), Tamas (evil), example: a doctor treats his patients differently. 3. The fruits of your action may bind you in your next birth. Reincarnation goes on until you break the chain or have paid for all your actions: good or bad. 4. You are free to initiate new karma but the result is not in your hand. If you are too anxious about the result, your karma will be less efficient. King manu says; Dharma, Artha, Kama and Moksha are the important goals of life. A: karmanye ave – adhikarastu. B: Ma faleshu kadachan. C: Ma karma fal hetu bhu. 5. Good deeds cannot wipe out bad deeds. Example: Yuthistir saying “ Narova kunjro va. “ 6. Declaration or bragging of the good work reduces its gain, and confession of the sins helps you reduce the impact. Example: King Yayati lost to Indra. Jesal was helped by Toral. 7. Inner thought or motive makes the differences. Exqmple: Shabari and Ram. Arjuna is reluctant to fight but Shri Krishna tells him to kill for good reason. 8. Goal of a wise man is to perform the work without binding himself. Yoga means to unite. Harmony between the inner self and the outer world reduces the conflicts. A balanced link between the mind, speech and action brings inner peace. Yogaha karmashu kaushalum. “ Skillful performance is yoga” 9. A yogi works but remains unattached. How does he do that? Certain Karma does not bind you. For Example: action performed as your duty. Work performed without any selfish motive. If a soldier kills during a war he is not a murderer. Karmayogi works for the sake of his duty. He does the best of what he can do without the selfish motive or anxiety of results. “Unattached “does not mean he does a second class job. He takes victory and defeat in a matured stride. 10. Gyan Yogi: Enlightened one has the spiritual wisdom in anything he does. He/she have fully realized God. All his actions are therefore part of his oneness with God. Hence the fruits or the chain of action does not bind him, e.g. crime and punishment in your dream disappear when you wake up. 11. Bhakti Yoga says if you submit all your actions to your love for God, all your actions are part of your worship. “Yat karosi yada nyasi .. Submit all your action to me, they will purify instantly.” 12. All methods of doing yoga (Karma, Gyana, Bhakti ) ultimately result in Moksha or Nirvana. This is the stage where you are free from all the debts of your actions and you are one with God. You need not to take birth again. Free from birth, death, pain, pleasure. Thus you can reach a state of divine joy forever. In summary, the theory of Karma provides a special insight in how you act and interact with your inner self and outer world. Your perceptions of the things make the difference. Karma does not mean that life has to be dull. In fact, the theory helps you work hard and solve your problem leading to more success and happiness. A Karma Yogi is like a good sportsman. He works hard at practice, plays the game with all his mind, body and heart. He tries to improve his skill in his game as he reaches a higher level. He enjoys the game but does not play just to win the game. In essence, he is a cool guy who does not get upset or unduly happy regardless of the outcome. He looks at the bigger picture and long range goal of his life. Blessings of 'Limitied but Good' Karma :wub: :wub: :wub:

With the same logic (I could sit on both sides of this debate lol) - prove you are now awake and not dreaming. Or, prove you actually exist, and are not just a random android in my dream.

Its a funny reality Harpur lists a set of strange occurances, different places, different people, he doesn't say, just they are different. When we read them they sound like a typical UFO encounter ... no it was a group of tribal people and they say it was a communication from their ancestors. Another scene ... oh that HAS to be about 60 years ago and sound like an Irish folk tale about the little people .... no its a UFO encounter ... and so on. Harpur has defined the experiences and explained them with his theory of Daimonic Reality ... note; not demonic reality! (I had to go back and correct that ??? hmmm ... spellcheck perhaps ?) He also gives an interesting take on the child services abduction cases ; people come around and say there is a report of child abuse and they are taking the children ... the parents nearly comply but don't do it, after they are gone they 'wake up' and report what happened ... they were in a near hypnotic state and nearly handed the kids over, no they didn't even ask to see ID. what did they look like? They cant remember. Then there is another case ... and another. O! there is aging out there, police and community are on alert ... then more and more reports 250 in one week ... obviously police realise its too many ... sometimes there are witnesses other times the report seems false ,,, are people imagining it now ... but by now some people have started doing it themselves; going to a house and saying I am from child protection and your child is in danger and I have to take them (some got caught, they couldn't really explain why they did it. That is an 'outbreak' of Daimonic reality. You might see a pixie, I might be with you and see it too (or not) maybe you can even catch it and put it in a cage ... will it be there in the morning ? No. will the cage be broken? No. Its all about the world of the lost soul as well (as soul was divorced from spirit in our culture long ago) A shaman deals in Daimonic Reality ... they can retrieve lost souls. Its like the dream world or the dreamtime ... its when the subjective unconscious forces break out into the objective world or the objective collective unconscious or the Anima Mundi effecting the physical world ... burns on UFO 'victims' or for the religious; stigmata. It is the otherword between the 'spiritual' world of the religionist and the physical world of the materialist that partakes of and effects both. It can be here and there at the same time and multiply and invert itself in reoccurring themes ( as quantum physics is discovering) ... and of course it is the world of myth ... where themes invert and transpose and play out the same scenarios until we MUST pay attention to soul. When it is suppressed further it mutates and can demand attention in 'monstrous' froms. yes it goes on and on ... like I do. But do check him out 'The Philosoper's Secret Fire - A history of the Imagination.' ' Daimonic Reality - A Field Guide to the Other World.' Mercurius - The Marriage of Heaven and Earth.' I am sure that ' the HGA' and 'HGA experience' are intimately connected with this world ... it might even be a form of ourselves that resides in that world concurrent with our existence in this one. Well I am not that bad ... as 'some' seem to be trying to make out Batman ? Another concept straight out of daimonic reality ! That's why he is so popular ... resonates.

Can we get back to the main line of reasoning? That everything is illusion? All philosophical and religious positions revolve around only 2 views: Existence and Nonexistence. However its all illusion, like a dream. Phenomena don't arise in the first place. Nagarjuna in ''Mūlamadhyamakakārikā'' 21.12. states: "An existent does not arise from an existent; neither does an existent arise from a non-existent. A non-existent does not arise from a non-existent; neither does a non-existent arise from an existent." http://books.google.com/books?id=38WJRwP3nLgC&pg=PA297&dq=Mulamadhyamakakarika+of+Nagarjuna+An+existent+does+not+arise+from+an+existent;+neither+does+an+existent+arise+from+a+non-existent.&hl=en&sa=X&ei=fnGiUtuWMPPMsQSzkIDwCA&ved=0CDgQuwUwAQ#v=onepage&q=Mulamadhyamakakarika%20of%20Nagarjuna%20An%20existent%20does%20not%20arise%20from%20an%20existent%3B%20neither%20does%20an%20existent%20arise%20from%20a%20non-existent.&f=false Here are some quotations from 2 top books, Nagarjuna's Reason Sixty and Center of the Sunlit Sky: "Nagarjuna taught , "bereft of beginning, middle, and end," meaning that the world is free from creation, duration, and destruction." -Candrakirti "Once one asserts things, one will succumb to the view of seeing such by imagining their beginning, middle and end; hence that grasping at things is the cause of all views." -Candrakirti "the perfectly enlightened buddhas-proclaimed, "What is dependently created is uncreated." -Candrakirti "Likewise, here as well, the Lord Buddha’s pronouncement that "What is dependently created is objectively uncreated," is to counteract insistence on the objectivity of things." -Candrakirti "Since relativity is not objectively created, those who, through this reasoning, accept dependent things as resembling the moon in water and reflections in a mirror, understand them as neither objectively true nor false. Therefore, those who think thus regarding dependent things realize that what is dependently arisen cannot be substantially existent, since what is like a reflection is not real. If it were real, that would entail the absurdity that its transformation would be impossible. Yet neither is it unreal, since it manifests as real within the world." -Candrakirti Nagarjuna said "If I had any position, I thereby would be at fault. Since I have no position, I am not at fault at all." Aryadeva said "Against someone who has no thesis of “existence, nonexistence, or [both] existence and nonexistence,” it is not possible to level a charge, even if [this is tried] for a long time." "I do not say that entities do not exist, because I say that they originate in dependence. “So are you a realist then?” I am not, because I am just a proponent of dependent origination. “What sort of nature is it then that you [propound]?” I propound dependent origination. “What is the meaning of dependent origination?” It has the meaning of the lack of a nature and the meaning of nonarising through a nature [of its own]. It has the meaning of the origination of results with a nature similar to that of illusions, mirages, reflections, cities of scent-eaters, magical creations, and dreams. It has the meaning of emptiness and identitylessness." -Candrakirti Nagarjuna in Mūlamadhyamakakārikā 1.1. states: "Not from themselves, not from something other, Not from both, and not without a cause- At any place and any time, All entities lack arising." Buddhapālita comments (using consequentalist arguments which ultimately snowballs into Tibetan prasangika vs. svatantrika): "Entities do not arise from their own intrinsic nature, because their arising would be pointless and because they would arise endlessly. For entities that [already] exist as their own intrinsic nature, there is no need to arise again. If they were to arise despite existing [already], there would be no time when they do not arise; [but] that is also not asserted [by the Enumerators]. Candrakīrti, in ''Madhyamakāvatāra'' VI.14., comments: "If something were to originate in dependence on something other than it, Well, then utter darkness could spring from flames And everything could arise from everything, Because everything that does not produce [a specific result] is the same in being other [than it]." Candrakīrti, in the ''Prasannapadā'', comments: "Entities also do not arise from something other, because there is nothing other." Nagarjuna in ''Mūlamadhyamakakārikā'' 1.3cd. states: "If an entity in itself does not exist, An entity other [than it] does not exist either." Candrakīrti, in the ''Prasannapadā'', comments: "Nor do entities arise from both [themselves and others], because this would entail [all] the flaws that were stated for both of these theses and because none of these [disproved possibilities] have the capacity to produce [entities]." Nagarjuna, in ''Mūlamadhyamakakārikā'' VII.17., states: "If some nonarisen entity Existed somewhere, It might arise. However, since such does not exist, what would arise?" Nagarjuna, in ''Mūlamadhyamakakārikā'' VII.19cd., states: "If something that lacks arising could arise, Just about anything could arise in this way."

Ok - so last night I went to sleep with the intention of carrying on the meteorite dream - I havent done any kind of dream interpretation before so I wonder what it all means: So the meteorite took me for a little trip - I say little... it was anything but - the only way I can describe it is I went down. This overwelming feeling of going downwards was coupled with the deepest, darkest darkness I've experienced - I'm pretty sure I fell into a very deep sleep after that. Also a funny thing happened during the night - our building was struck by lightning - we have a lot of scaffolding covering it at the moment, so that's probably why, but I didn't hear anything - the surge destroyed my girlfriend's transformer for her laptop, killed my tv reciever, and took out the intercom system for the whole building. It felt really uncomfortable at home today. I live in a church so I'm considering it an act of god

All philosophical and religious positions revolve around only 2 views: Existence and Nonexistence. However its all illusion, like a dream. Phenomena don't arise in the first place. Nagarjuna in ''Mūlamadhyamakakārikā'' 21.12. states: "An existent does not arise from an existent; neither does an existent arise from a non-existent. A non-existent does not arise from a non-existent; neither does a non-existent arise from an existent." http://books.google.com/books?id=38WJRwP3nLgC&pg=PA297&dq=Mulamadhyamakakarika+of+Nagarjuna+An+existent+does+not+arise+from+an+existent;+neither+does+an+existent+arise+from+a+non-existent.&hl=en&sa=X&ei=fnGiUtuWMPPMsQSzkIDwCA&ved=0CDgQuwUwAQ#v=onepage&q=Mulamadhyamakakarika%20of%20Nagarjuna%20An%20existent%20does%20not%20arise%20from%20an%20existent%3B%20neither%20does%20an%20existent%20arise%20from%20a%20non-existent.&f=false Here are some quotations from 2 top books, Nagarjuna's Reason Sixty and Center of the Sunlit Sky: "Nagarjuna taught , "bereft of beginning, middle, and end," meaning that the world is free from creation, duration, and destruction." -Candrakirti "Once one asserts things, one will succumb to the view of seeing such by imagining their beginning, middle and end; hence that grasping at things is the cause of all views." -Candrakirti "the perfectly enlightened buddhas-proclaimed, "What is dependently created is uncreated." -Candrakirti "Likewise, here as well, the Lord Buddha’s pronouncement that "What is dependently created is objectively uncreated," is to counteract insistence on the objectivity of things." -Candrakirti "Since relativity is not objectively created, those who, through this reasoning, accept dependent things as resembling the moon in water and reflections in a mirror, understand them as neither objectively true nor false. Therefore, those who think thus regarding dependent things realize that what is dependently arisen cannot be substantially existent, since what is like a reflection is not real. If it were real, that would entail the absurdity that its transformation would be impossible. Yet neither is it unreal, since it manifests as real within the world." -Candrakirti Nagarjuna said "If I had any position, I thereby would be at fault. Since I have no position, I am not at fault at all." Aryadeva said "Against someone who has no thesis of “existence, nonexistence, or [both] existence and nonexistence,” it is not possible to level a charge, even if [this is tried] for a long time." "I do not say that entities do not exist, because I say that they originate in dependence. “So are you a realist then?” I am not, because I am just a proponent of dependent origination. “What sort of nature is it then that you [propound]?” I propound dependent origination. “What is the meaning of dependent origination?” It has the meaning of the lack of a nature and the meaning of nonarising through a nature [of its own]. It has the meaning of the origination of results with a nature similar to that of illusions, mirages, reflections, cities of scent-eaters, magical creations, and dreams. It has the meaning of emptiness and identitylessness." -Candrakirti Nagarjuna in Mūlamadhyamakakārikā 1.1. states: "Not from themselves, not from something other, Not from both, and not without a cause- At any place and any time, All entities lack arising." Buddhapālita comments (using consequentalist arguments which ultimately snowballs into Tibetan prasangika vs. svatantrika): "Entities do not arise from their own intrinsic nature, because their arising would be pointless and because they would arise endlessly. For entities that [already] exist as their own intrinsic nature, there is no need to arise again. If they were to arise despite existing [already], there would be no time when they do not arise; [but] that is also not asserted [by the Enumerators]. Candrakīrti, in ''Madhyamakāvatāra'' VI.14., comments: "If something were to originate in dependence on something other than it, Well, then utter darkness could spring from flames And everything could arise from everything, Because everything that does not produce [a specific result] is the same in being other [than it]." Candrakīrti, in the ''Prasannapadā'', comments: "Entities also do not arise from something other, because there is nothing other." Nagarjuna in ''Mūlamadhyamakakārikā'' 1.3cd. states: "If an entity in itself does not exist, An entity other [than it] does not exist either." Candrakīrti, in the ''Prasannapadā'', comments: "Nor do entities arise from both [themselves and others], because this would entail [all] the flaws that were stated for both of these theses and because none of these [disproved possibilities] have the capacity to produce [entities]." Nagarjuna, in ''Mūlamadhyamakakārikā'' VII.17., states: "If some nonarisen entity Existed somewhere, It might arise. However, since such does not exist, what would arise?" Nagarjuna, in ''Mūlamadhyamakakārikā'' VII.19cd., states: "If something that lacks arising could arise, Just about anything could arise in this way."

Children??? Please. The topic at hand is: "First off, this universe is completely equivalent with illusion, like a lucid dream. So to speak of a Creator is meaningless. "If you can't fathom that, think about this. There is an ad infinitum regression of cause and effect. Logically the Big Bang has causes, which in itself has causes, which in itself has causes etc. "There is no place for a Creator in an ad infinitum regression of cause and effect."

And, of course, from the tantric perspective, that's absolutely the case. According to Vajrayana, the process of falling asleep and entering the dream state exactly mirrors the process of dying. We first experience the dissolution of the elements, earth into water, water into fire etc., until space dissolves into itself and the clear light manifests. Then, instead of entering dream, we enter the turbulent visions of the bardo which we either recognize for what they are (the product of our minds natural luminosity) and are in that moment self-liberated, or don't, in which case we soon get to enjoy the sun once more. Or at least, thus have I heard 'This day is a special day, it is yours. Yesterday slipped away, it cannot be filled anymore with meaning. About tomorrow nothing is known. But this day, today, is yours, make use of it. Today you can make someone happy. Today you can help another. This day is a special day, it is yours.' (I don't know anything about this poem other than it's supposedly Indian, but it's lovely, and came to mind when I read your post Treena) Peace, ZenB

Its an illusion. Like a dream. Like a mirage.

The universe is completely equivalent to an illusion; not "like an illusion". Everything is completely illusory, since phenomena never arise in the first place. This is a good summary of that reasoning: http://www.dharmawheel.net/viewtopic.php?f=48&t=6185&start=220#p74244 Dream is just a metaphor which is present in Madhyamaka.

Hmnn, If you believe 1>, that the universe is like an illusion, then I don't see how its such a stretch to imagine a god. Also if its like a lucid dream, then who's dreaming? 2>I'm not sure how scientific ad infinitum regression is. Aren't you guessing/supposing its an infinitum regression? Without solid proof you're on ground as shaky as a theist with that argument.

My dream cabin would be like a Hobbit dwelling. Built into the side of a hill, cool in summer, cozy in winter, gardens around and above. Maybe a solar tunnel system to spread daylight inside. Central high efficiency fire place/stove. https://www.google.com/search?hl=en&site=imghp&tbm=isch&source=hp&biw=1414&bih=907&q=hobbit+house&oq=hobbit+house&gs_l=img.3..0l10.2522.4376.0.4609.12.12.0.0.0.0.307.1068.5j4j0j1.10.0....0...1ac.1.32.img..4.8.655.6AdOKR-GBXw#hl=en&q=inside%20hobbit%20house&revid=1883975333&tbm=isch&imgdii=_