from matutinum, 28 october

(Ps. 3) Dómine, quid multiplicáti sunt qui tríbulant me? 

(Ps. 3) O Lord, how many are my foes!

multi insúrgunt advérsum me.

Many are rising against me; 2. Multi dicunt ánimæ meæ:

2. many are saying to me,

Non est salus ipsi in Deo ejus.

“There is no help for you[a] in God.”

3. Tu autem, Dómine, suscéptor meus es,

3. But you, O Lord, are a shield around me,

glória mea, et exáltans caput meum.

my glory, and the one who lifts up my head.

4. Voce mea ad Dóminum clamávi:

4. I cry aloud to the Lord,

et exaudívit me de monte sancto suo.

and he answers me from his holy hill.

5. Ego dormívi, et soporátus sum:

5. I lie down and sleep;

et exsurréxi, quia Dóminus suscépit me.

I wake again, for the Lord sustains me.

6. Non timébo míllia pópuli circumdántis me:

6. I am not afraid of ten thousands of people

exsúrge, Dómine, salvum me fac, Deus meus.

who have set themselves against me all around.

7. Quóniam tu percussísti omnes adversántes mihi sine causa:

7. Rise up, O Lord! Deliver me, O my God!

dentes peccatórum contrivísti.

For you strike all my enemies on the cheek; you break the teeth of the wicked.

8. Dómini est salus:

8. Deliverance belongs to the Lord;

et super pópulum tuum benedíctio tua.

may your blessing be on your people! 

https://app.neumz.com/listen/matutinum-psalmus-3-in-directum-cum-organo-060205b6-9d36-4ded-80ee-66b82b45cef4/28-10-2025

mu

Trust

 no

one

(Yes)

Trust 

No, 

One

both source and sound

In prison this morning, Lalla Ded. "Lalla, or Lal Ded, was a Kashmiri mystic who lived in the 14th century at the height of Kashmiri Shaivism.” https://poetrysociety.org/poems-essays/old-school/on-lalla

We speak about:

   I'm towing my boat across the ocean with a thread.

   Will He hear me and help me across?

   Or am I seeping away like water from a half baked cup?

   Wander, my poor soul, you're not going home anytime soon.

And:

   He who strikes the Unstruck Sound 

 

   calls space his body and emptiness his home, 

 

   who has neither name nor color nor family nor form, 

 

   who, meditating on Himself, is both Source and Sound

  

    is the god who shall mount and ride this horse. 

Then:

 

    Gluttony gets you the best table in the town of Nowhere, 

 

   fasting gives your ego a boost. 

 

   Slaves of extremes, learn the art of balance

  

    and all the closed doors will open at your touch. 

Finally:

 

    Now sir, make sure you've corralled your ass. 

 

   Or he'll champ his way 

 

   through your neighbors' saffron gardens. 

 

   No one's going to stand proxy

  

    when it's your neck on the block. 

Our conversant there is a devotee of Kashmiri Shaivism and showed great kindness sharing his passion.

These unmatriculated independent open-hearted open-minded conversations done twice weekly at the farm and up the hill at MSP are a fence being painted by thoughtful individuals with generous kindness to elderly pronouncers of the bodhisattva vows.

It is an open practice. 

As is, if you will, prayer.

Thus:

"Let your prayers go drifting into space, you never know what will be coming down.”  (--from "For a Dancer”, song from Jackson Browne's 1974 album Late for the Sky.)

nominalism, a mere spectre

Dystopian states

Of America

Go ahead, tell me

How dystopia is not

Our new

De-nominalism

Replacing

Anything actual

…   …   …

dystopia

noun

dys·​to·​pia (ˌ)dis-ˈtō-pē-ə 

Synonyms of dystopia

1

: an imagined world or society in which people lead wretched, dehumanized, fearful lives

There's almost a flavor of science fiction to the scenes Chilson describes, as though he were giving us a glimpse into a 21st-century dystopia of mad egoism and hurtling hulks of metal.—Adam Goodheart

Over the course of the movie, the late-60's ideal of togetherness turns into a dystopia of violence, revulsion and finally death.—John Leland

2

: ANTI-UTOPIA sense 2

writing a dystopia

… leaping across the century to the 1990's to attempt a dystopia about the disintegration of Australian democracy into startling, irreversible despotism.—Pearl K. Bellhttps://www.merriam-webster.com/dictionary/dystopia

reimagining eden

 I forgive you

For not being me

But can I forgive myself

For not being you

Each falling yellow leaf

Finds itself in the falling

facts of life

I might not see dawn

Momento mori

I might not see midnight

rapture them, why not

 I’m not afraid of Donald Trump

I’m afraid of all the people who

Love him without a shred of sense

There are no christians in America

Just folks who attend church and say

They love Jesus, wouldn’t you know

que dieu nous sauve

 It becomes too difficult 

to read domestic news

so I read myself, skim

the parts where I act like

an ass, mock everyone, go

on to say Va te faire foutre

cut spending that might help folks

bomb boats off foreign countries

call former presidents morons

deny being a sexual assault guy

I skim these parts, they are fake

and I am the savior of the world

as soon as everyone accepts this

we will be great again; what a 

wonderful time to be alive

what a grand person I am

(we interrupt this non-news to

bring you new swag to buy)

but first, a prayer: Que Dieu nous 

sauve des ivrognes et des imbéciles!

one is not; one brings forth

 A psychic channeling Jesus is saying “When one is not enlightened then one brings forth darkness.”

I know, I know... psychics channeling are an acquired taste. I was passing by, and settled to stop a minute here.

Which could easily be a sentence uttered by any of the ascendent masters referenced in her speaking.

We are all passing by in particular forms.

Earlier I walked the mountain with Ensõ. Yellow leaves were falling abundantly as we ascended beyond our two plank bridges over dry forked brook.

It is the final Sunday for ski lift rides to top of Ragged Mountain. Twenty years ago I’d hike the ascent. Today I’m pleased just to remember.

Which is what I feel about Jesus.

It's like an old friendship that has fallen like a leaf from seasons gone by. It was there, then, earth took it back. It still decomposes and reintegrates, deconstructs and reconstitutes into new forms of creative incarnation and unexpected reappearance.

It is through such darkness of understanding that my every night and every morning goes and comes.

It’s a good enough hike.

A good enough lift. 

A good enough changing from my Irish fedora to my Polish watch cap as eggs cook and water heats for chai tea, cat on lap, dog on rug, New York Times on red futon cover.

nada como esto

 Once

Or twice

I was

Fooled

Thinking

The inner

Was

The outer

God

What was

Seen and

Felt

But such

Inner/outer

Outer/inner

Insuperability

Was only

The name of

God, not

You

The failure to

Overcome the

Difficulty with

Which you are

I learned we

Don’t want God

We want to say

We want God

Calling the name

Of God instead of

Looking beyond

Sound to the

Nothing there

Without echo

Lightless listening

Empty emptiness

It seems we don’t 

Want God

We want the echo

Our own voice

Hitting off

Something

Insuperable

Satisfying —

God not being

There

Without a 

Sound

(Call it)

Nothing

Like

This