Trackback to May 29, 2008. To read about it, go to this link: http://xn3cts.com/one-sorry-horse/
One Sorry Horse, a.k.a. Balinguyngoy
Archive for the ‘spirituality’ Category
Notes on a Nude Sketching
2010
09.11
09.11
Here’s a poem drawn by poet/writer Richard Gappi:
>
*Talababa sa Isang Nude Sketching
>
Ipinapako ako ngayon
sa krus ng aking pagkatao.
>
Mantel sa pisngi ng aking pwet
at sinag-araw-alas-tres ng hapon na nakabalabal
sa hubad kong anino.
>
Nagsasa-Veronica ako
sa puting tela.
>
Guhit ito na pinihit ng totoo
kung saan naroon
ang nakasilip na puwang ng naikandado—!
>
Palayain siya!
Palayain siya!
>
Sa apat na sulok
inuutusan niyang lumayas
ang inaalihan
ng kampon ni Satanas!
>
Lalayas ako!
Lalayas ka!
>
At magkakapit-kamay
tayong magsasa-Lazarus
habang dama natin ang hapdi
ng bigat ng batong ipinukol
ng sumang-ayon sa hatol.
>
Puta!
Nakikiapid!
Malibog!
Pera-pera!
Magdalena!
>
Hindi Magdalena
ang isang putik
kundi nagiging
eskultura sa pilantik
ng canvas
ng
isang
artist.
>
- Richard Gappi, Oct. 1, 2005
>
My English translation:
Notes on a Nude Sketching
>
To the cross of my humanity
I am being nailed.
>
Mantle on the cheek of my butt
and the rays of the sun at three in the afternoon
cloaking my naked shadow.
>
I become Veronica
in the white cloth.
>
This is drawn
by the truth
where the imprisoned space
that peeps lies—!
>
Liberate her!
Liberate him!
>
In the four corners of the world
he commands the ones possessed
by the minions of Satan
to leave!
>
I shall leave!
You shall leave!
>
And holding hands
we shall become Lazarus
Living the pain
of the crushing weight
of the stone
thrown by the ones
who consented to
the verdict–
>
Fucking whore!
Adulterer!
Wanton!
Prostitute!
Magdalen!
>
Magdalen is not the mud.
Sculpture in the graceful waves
of the canvas
of an artist
>
She Becomes.
>
- Richard Gappi (Eng. trans. Ian Lomongo, Oct. 3, 2005)
>
best regards,
artes-ian, well!
In the Arc of Your Mallet
2010
05.25
05.25
In The Arc Of Your Mallet
by Rumi
Don’t go anywhere without me.
Let nothing happen in the sky apart from me,
or on the ground, in this world or that world,
without my being in its happening.
Vision, see nothing I don’t see.
Language, say nothing.
The way the night knows itself with the moon,
be that with me. Be the rose
nearest to the thorn that I am.
I want to feel myself in you when you taste food,
in the arc of your mallet when you work,
when you visit friends, when you go
up on the roof by yourself at night.
There’s nothing worse than to walk out along the
street without you. I don’t know where I’m going.
You’re the road, and the knower of roads,
more than maps, more than love.
-Rumi
On Deliberately Ignoring Something Because of the Hype
2009
08.15
08.15
I loved the Matrix and Moulin Rouge, despite their being hyped. On the other hand, I did watch Lord of the Rings 1 & 2, but stayed away from 3. Tried reading book 1, but just managed a few paragraphs, and then stopped… (Well, perhaps someday…)
Did “The Unbearable Lightness of Being” have that much hype? I love that novel, have read it twice, and think of it as the kind/type of novel I’d love to write if I ever get the chance of writing one. (Haven’t seen the film adaptation with Daniel Day-Lewis…)
As for “The Da Vinci Code,” if you find a copy lying around, it’s worth reading din naman. For one thing, I do subscribe to the recuperation/rehabilitation of the “sacred feminine.”
One other reason why I stayed away from Dan Brown’s novel is that I’ve read Umberto Eco’s “Foucault’s Pendulum” and from what I had heard about “The Da Vinci Code,” it seemed to me to be a “Foucault’s Pendulum”-wanna-be.
I’m currently re-reading Eco’s novel. (I read it years ago, mistakenly thinking that it’d help me write a paper on Michel Foucault. Wala palang connect. Ibang Foucault ‘to… Or, meron din, if one looks at the obsession for power and techniques of power…)
What Does It Matter! (On the Da Vinci Code, Foucault’s Pendulum & Other Matters)
2009
08.13
08.13
Read “The Da Vinci Code” in 2005, after deliberately ignoring it for quite some time because of the hype. And then saw the movie later.
Well, the wealth of information (esp. regarding symbols) is generally sound. But it doesn’t hold a candle to the erudition of Umberto Eco’s “Foucalt’s Pendulum.” (I have yet to understand the elaborate explanation of how Foucault’s Pendulum works…)
One thing I liked in the novel is the rather sympathetic portrayal of the head of the Opus Dei, Bishop Aringarosa. (Not so in the movie.) I’ve heard a lot of negative publicity regarding the Opus Dei and their founder Jose Ma. Escriva. (From the late Larry Henares, in his TV show and Philippine Daily Inquirer column, as well as from a Filipino priest who studied in a university run by the Opus Dei…) Bishop Aringarosa may be ultra-conservative in his theology but in the end, when the time came for his faith to be tested, his heart proved to be ultimately in the right place.
Also, it had a more hopeful, happy ending than “Foucault’s Pendulum,” which was darker and more poignant. Eco’s novel bewails the lack of understanding that so-called believers/enlightened ones have. Parang si Elsa sa Himala: “Walang himala! Ang himala ay nasa puso ng tao!”
Because I Cannot Sleep by Rumi
2009
08.11
08.11
A poem by Rumi:
Because I Cannot Sleep
Because I cannot sleep
I make music at night.
I am troubled by the one whose face has the color of spring flowers.
I have neither sleep nor patience,
neither a good reputation nor disgrace.
A thousand robes of wisdom are gone.
All my good manners have run a thousand miles away.
The heart and the mind are left angry with each other.
The stars and the moon are envious of each other.
Because of this alienation the physical universe is getting tighter and tighter.
The moon says, “How long will I remain suspended without a sun?”
Without Love’s jewel inside of me, let the bazaar of my existence be destroyed stone by stone.
O Love, You who have been called by a thousand names,
You who know how to pour the wine into the chalice of the body,
You who give culture to a thousand cultures,
You who are faceless but have a thousand faces.
O Love, You who shape the faces of Turks, Europeans, and Zanzibaris, give me a glass from Your bottle, or a handful of bheng from your branch.
Remove the cork once more.
Then we’ll see a thousand chiefs prostrate, and a circle of ecstatic troubadours will play.
The the addict will be freed of craving and will be resurrected, and stand in awe till Judgment Day.
(translation by Kabir Helminski and Lail Fouladvend)
Vipassana for Nietzscheans?
2009
07.13
07.13
“He remembered his sadness well, but he could no longer remember what had made him so sad. It was that way with everything: even sadness passed, even pain and despair, as well as the joys. Everything passed, faded, lost its depth, its value, and finally there came a time when one could no longer remember what had pained one so. Pains, too, wilted and faded… Yes, doubtless this pain, this bitter need would also grow old and tired. It too would be forgotten. Nothing had permanence, and he regretted that, too.”
- Herman Hesse, “Narcissus and Goldmund”
—
Am continuing my reflections on the possibility of a “Nietzschean Buddhism”…
Would like to sit again…
I’ve found something valuable in my practice. Hey, I may have not changed much but I detect a glimmer of hope… the possibility of overcoming deeply-ingrained bad habits of old. I’m no superman but like him, “I’m just out to find a better part of me.”
I came to Vipassana as a pantheist with Nietzschean leanings. I had strayed away from the Catholic Christian Church in the mid-1990′s. It was meeting Nietzsche (through his books, of course) that brought about my “conversion.” I found quite a number of my very deepest feelings and thoughts verbalized by this “madman.”
Excerpt from “It’s Here Now: Are You?” by Bhagavan Das
2009
07.09
07.09
From “It’s Here Now: Are You?” by Bhagavan Das, pp.82-83:
The spiritual path gives you a choice to use your power for either good or evil. Many are tempted to use it for evil — that’s human nature. We must overcome this temptation. This is why the spiritual life is called the razor’s edge. The more realization you receive, the more power you’re given. But if you don’t remain humble and compassionate, you may find yourself slipping into some very deep, dark spaces. And kindness is essential.
The Lord’s Prayer says, “Forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against us.” Jesus wouldn’t have put that into the most famous prayer in the world if he hadn’t known that a hundred times a day we need to let go, we need to forgive. When we do, the next moment arises fresh and clean. There’s no victim; no one did anything to anyone. And most important of all, one must forgive oneself, too.
Tantric Sex
2009
07.02
07.02
Tantric Sex
Tantrayana… Vajrayana…
And all we ever notice is the sex! (Just look at how our Christian conditioning has warped our minds…)
What’s so special about tantric sex?
Nothing much.
It’s just that it becomes a sacred/holy activity. A prayer. A rite/ritual (not in its pejorative sense).
So, it’s pretty much how all sexual encounters should be. What’s the diff then?
It’s all in our minds.
Vajrayana/Tantrayana Buddhism is said to be the quickest path to Nirvana because it transforms (transfigures!) every activity into a sacred/holy path. Everything is holy! Everything is divine! Pan-theism!
If everything is holy, then even fucking is holy! Heck, even shitting is holy!
The Theravadin (sometimes pejoratively called “hinayana”) tradition of Buddhism presents a much more stern/disciplined, almost ascetic/atheistic/scientific face of Buddhism.
At least, that’s how it looks to me.
best regards,
ian
Drunk, Stoned, And In Love (with An Orange)
2009
06.19
06.19
Drugs and alcohol can open up a spiritual experience. But, as Bhagavan Das pointed out, it’s a dark (tamasic) path and the danger is in being eaten up or swallowed by the substance, instead of the other way around.
I haven’t taken hallucinogens. (I’d like to, someday, with reformed drug addict Rudy as a “guide.” To make sure I don’t harm myself or another…)
I think my first experience of “psychedelia” was Sesame Street. (“1,2,3,4,5…6,7,8,9,10…11,12… doodoodoodoo…,” among others…) My parents were not hippies. They listened to Bread, middle-of-the-road stuff…
But I had a cool uncle and aunt. My Uncle Boyet brought me to an open-field rock concert when I was maybe 6… where I think I first heard Pepe Smith. This uncle would show me his psychedelic paintings and taught me my first cool words: “Hayuup!” “Haneeeep!”