Pantheism and Taoism

=====I recently became interested in the ideologies that exist within Pantheism, and that research eventually led me to research Taoism. The two ideals are very similar, and they start out, on paper, as very good ideas. However, they both lose sight of some of their own ideals by creating "philosophies," "goals, "and "dogmas." I was enticed by some of the good ideas that can be found in both religions -- a term I am using loosely, though that is essentially what they are as they are suggestions for a way of life -- but ended up being turned off by the same nonsense one comes across in all of the better known religions.
=====The first wrench in the works is distributive organization. I don't really consider something a religion until it becomes organized and shared. That is to say, until more than one person is "striving" to achieve a goal or a principal of an ideology, I consider it to be one individual's natural state of mind. So, to me, the minute such an idea becomes shared, and a following grows, it ceases to be natural, because the only state of mind natural to a being is the one it knows on its own. The only ideologies natural to a person are the ones the person comes to on his or her own. In other words, how a person interprets and processes facts to perceive reality is their only true natural state of mind. The goals built from that perception are their only true natural goals. Those goals may not automatically include methods of suppressing certain emotions or actions. In this way, distributive organization pretty much destroys the "natural order" of any belief system.
=====Both Pantheism and Taoism are built around the idea that a natural order is sacred. Pantheism takes that a step further to say that the "Universe is divine." What they mean by that is that the Universe is the center and cause of all creation and being, and that, because we are all made of the same "star stuff," all things within it are eternally and invariably connected. That's an ideology I share almost to the word, so I was naturally drawn to read more about the ideology; however, the more I read, the more Pantheism went from a simple and unconditionally constructed ideology to a strict and well organized religion. The more pantheism read like a religion, the more it resembled Taoism.
=====There are very many versions of Pantheism, but they all seem to share the same tendency to embrace religious structure. Pantheisms various incarnations most often resemble preexistent Pagan religions and Taoism.
=====My problem with Pantheism and Taoism -- aside from my aforementioned problem with the contradictory 'dogma vs. natural perception' concept -- is the fact that they tend to be very flaky in nature and design. The American Heritage Dictionary defines flaky as "3. Slang Somewhat eccentric; odd," and that's basically what I mean, as well. More specifically, I think the two religions take basic scientific principals and nature and attach them to baseless spiritual fluff. If you claim that your "spirit" is "one with a tree," then you are no longer speaking my language, and you no longer exist within realms of physical science. If you say that your physical make up, as broken down into molecules and elements, connects you to a tree because it is made of all the same materials, and the matter that makes up those materials cannot be created or destroyed, so you are connected by means of your coexistence in the natural state of the Universe and the formation of the Galaxy, then I can appreciate that as a scientific and emotionally moving piece of information. When you start talking about elements of the super natural like "spirits" and "spiritual oneness," then you are removing yourself from a scientific, fact-based approach to understanding. I'm not saying that using flaky fluff to reach an understanding of the world around you is wrong or even unnatural to you; I'm just saying it isn't my thing.
=====Taoism goes much deeper into realms of spirituality, emotional suppression, and dogma. It is, in every sense, a religion. There are those that claim that it isn't a religion or a philosophy, but a way of life. That, of course, makes no conceptual sense, whatsoever. Religion is the means by which one gets people to follow and practice a philosophy. A philosophy is an idealized way of life. So, by that reasoning, to say "Taoism isn't a Religion or a Philosophy, but a way of life," you contradict yourself three times in the same sentence -- impressive, but not in the way I think the ideology is meant to be.
=====The contradictions that riddle both Pantheism and Taoism are so numerous and profound to the philosophies that one could say that the ideologies are basically founded upon them. Both religions call for a deep and necessary connection to nature, the earth, and the "natural order," in the same breath that they present to a practitioner the means by which the practitioner must work to achieving that connection. By telling a person to do something that they have to work to achieve, and so otherwise they would not be naturally inclined to do, you are asking them to fight against their own nature. An individual's nature, as defined by their individual perceptions, is already perpetuated and empowered by the "natural order"; otherwise, their perception wouldn't exist in the first place. With these kinds of contradictions at work, it is hard for me to lend any moral credit to either religion -- every good point is ultimately negated by the existence of dogma or elements of the supernatural.

Why I Am Smarter Than the Dalai Lama

=====Recently, someone posted a message to me regarding something possibly quoted by the Dalai Lama. The quote was "Suffering is a state of mind." This quote rather pisses me off. Now, while I could not actually find anywhere -- on the internet -- that the Dalai Lama had ever said this, I did find it sticking all over Buddhist websites and dogma like an unsightly mold.
=====One reason it pisses me off is that it makes no real sense, yet, obviously, there are people who understand this as a reality. It makes no sense because most suffering in the world, mental and physical, is a direct result of physical anguish. Be it starvation, exposure, or unjustifiable violence, some people in the world are forced to experience physical tortures every day of their lives. To say that suffering -- and in such general terms, clearly this means all suffering -- is a state of mind, is to be extremely insensitive and insulting to the daily struggles of these people.
=====For the most part, Buddhists -- well, those who are not forced to practice the religion by its regal monks -- are not impoverished people. Whether they are Tibetan practitioners, who, before China helped to straighten out the economy a little, ruled over the lands, forcing people into their religion and into slavery -- and forcing farmers and starving serfs to pay homage to their temples, Lamas, and monks by handing over 75 percent of all livestock, crops and possession -- while wallowing in lavish lifestyles complete with slaves, jewelry, precious stones, wealth, and unending supplies of clothing, food and warmth, or the modern day yuppie or hippie practitioner, who, in-between trips to the office and Whole Foods, spends thousands of dollars on unnecessary yoga classes, a good number of Buddhists do not live lives of poverty. I mention this to bring up this point: when you have everything you will ever need out of life, for probably the rest of your life, you probably don't know what it is to have no options available to you. So, these people have never actually known suffering. Suffering is three parts physical torture, one part economical hopelessness. Granted, Buddhists like to pretend that they live a life that does not require material possession and wealth, but when someone can show me the Buddhist who needs a cosigner for a car loan, doesn't go to a temple decorated in gold, or doesn't spend countless dollars on books, videos, and other objects in the pursuit of other aspects of the religion, I will stop thinking the entire belief structure is built on hypocrisy. Even Siddhartha Gautama was a prince. The whole religion was founded by the wealthy, and is used today, around the world, to feed the wealthy off the sweat of the poor under the guise of enlightenment and compassion.
=====I pick on Buddhism a lot. This is because -- for New Age goofballs and confused, easily misled college youths -- it is second only to Paganism as the favourite means by which people are made instantly "open minded," "wise," "unique," "cultured," and "spiritual." That, in and of itself, makes it obnoxious enough to draw my attention. There is also the fact that it is, indeed, founded entirely on hypocrisies and the awe-inspiringly ridiculous musings of kings. Thirdly, it is a religion. The fact that it is a religion -- a belief structure based on the stories inside some person's head -- automatically disqualifies it from any race of the profound or intellectual. Discussing Buddhism as one might any other Mythical fiction, like the story of Hercules or the Chinese unicorn the Chi Lin, is fine. It is even fine to draw a moral from some of the stories and anecdotes that make up the religion, like one might draw from Humpty Dumpty. We're talking about a set of dogmas and doctrines that claim that a person comes back to life as other creatures, directly (Please, save the disagreements. Some scholars say "yes" while others say "no." The view Buddhists have on reincarnation varies from discipline to discipline but also depends on who's reading the information or even who Guatama was talking to. Do not tell me that it's not a Buddhist belief, but a Hindu one. The Hindu understanding is often identical to the Buddhist understanding of reincarnation; so, don't fuck with me). To attempt to alter one's behaviour, or mindset, based on this kind of cosmic understanding not only defies nature and reason, but it defies the fragile state of the human psyche. The abilities to feel pain, be sad, and understand loss are all crucial to the survival of any animal, human beings included. If you switch those neurological programs off, which are handpicked by natural selection, you do not achieve a heighten state of being, you simply become less than yourself and less than a human being -- you become a machine. For that alone Buddhism should be ridiculed.
=====So, getting back to the philosophy that "suffering is a state of mind," basically what the Buddhist tradition offers the unfortunate masses of the world is the ability to become an unnatural machine that feels no pain. Once the pain is gone, there can be no more suffering. Well, no. Once the pain is gone, and you erase the concept of reason and understanding from your mind, so you don't realize that without economic stability you will eventually perish, then you will have no more suffering. In essence, if you become the living dead, then it wont matter that your life sucks and will probably end before its time.
I suppose that seems reasonable. It's not helpful in any way, but it does make grammatical sence -- that is, the words make sense together in a sentence. When taken off the page and applied to real life, it's fucking horrible and mind numbing.
=====Basically, these people -- the aforementioned goofballs and youths -- need to realize that there are no good religions. Every religion that still exists on the planet today still exists for a reason. It doesn't exist because it was all such a good idea. It exists because it was created or controlled by people powerful enough to force the ideals onto other people. In the case of Christianity, it was the Romans who rewrote Christianity to fit their preexisting concepts of power and honor. In the case of Buddhism, the thing was started by kings, and handed over to Lamas who ruled an entire country and forced the beliefs, through violence, onto their subjects. They're all just made up shit. None of them are useful beyond their merits as fiction.
=====Don't depend on stories solidifying abstract concepts to control your life, unless you made them up yourself. If you want to pretend that a giant purple dragon named Dingleslor flew out of the sun and vomited forth the planets and the creatures of the Earth after it tripped over the moon, you have my utmost respect and attention. But, for you to select one of the template belief structures as your own, you might as well let me sit down and write you a creation story, and accept that as your own. The ones available to you were made the same way. At least mine would be made with a mind that exists in the 21st century. I'm pretty good at it. I could make you a nice religion -- who doesn't like purple dragons?

Bound, Bred, and Butchered

Bound, Bred, and Butchered

Inspiration spirals into form and creation.
Creation gives birth to energy.
Energy becomes spirit.

Dancing on the tongues of bluesmen in the Delta,
Or across the lips of Hopi shaman on the Mesas,
Ever-changing with each new generation.

Change and growth keeps life moving.
The spirit is alive.
The unbound spirit is immortal.

But if the spirit is captured
And forced into the flesh of the page
A prison of compressed pulp

The growth ends, change ceases
What was once a spirit becomes an Earthly thing,
Bound by mortal limitations.

Livestock locked in pleather binding
Used to breed new inspiration and future livestock from the minds of a reader
But over time, being slowly drained of relevance and energy.

If the mortal’s secrets are revealed,
If the author betrays the symbols,
Then the trapped livestock becomes cold and rigid.

A dead thing--slaughtered and skinned.
Worn proudly by its former master,
Its head mounted on the mantel next to the heads of other cheated and poached game.

Nothing more than a material trophy,
A symbol of the author’s intelligence, philosophy and articulation.
No more growing, no more breeding.

The penned words, which seemed to promise immortality,
Now, as though carved in marble stone,
Serve as only a permanent reminder of what once lived.

There is no meter or rhyme in this hypocritical verse.
This particular spirit was stillborn into self-explanatory body.The only thought it can breed is self-serving; it’s only inspiration a rejection

Relic Jade

Relic Jade

Cherry Blossom samurai,
Sleeping by the river side,
Petals and leaves, just as his dreams,
Join the flow as down they glide.

Out of sight, but deep in mind,
Into dusk and out of time,
Spiral-bodied dragon flys,
And silhouettes the moon sublime.

Following the celestial beast, which now awaits a mortal feast,
The poet’s journey has been resumed, just in time to be consumed.
And as breath of fire turns to smoke, without withstanding words he spoke,
The dragon’s flint throat echoes fade, throughout halls of relic jade.

From the ash of fiery breath,
Man and serpent rise again
In the tales of life and death,
Intertwining now with then.

You

You

On the day you tasted love, there was
A blanket of black
From the fire in your tracks
As you crossed all those rivers
without ever looking back

The smoke from all those burning bridges
Has spread to your gun
And it's blackened-up your lungs
And you cough and sputter
before you set out to run

From everything thats bigger than you
But theres nowhere to go
And youve got nothing in tow
But you still worry
about what all there is to show

Your eyes water and you taste the tears, but
You only cry through your teeth
You were never much of a thief
Because even a criminal's
got to understand grief

You can only understand your hands
And what they can reach
As you soak them in bleach
Ignoring the other senses and
the pearls they can teach

You've just got no time to listen
Well, that's what you said
As you got ready for bed
Closing your ears on the wounded
so you could leave them for dead

The Nature of Need

The Nature of Need

I watch him struggle along the wall,
By means of clumsy jerks and stretches,
To an awkward corner above the hall,
Where dusty silk hangs posthumously, casting shadows of abstract sketches.

He is starving for the light;
Though, he is born of the night,
And so, not blessed is his sight,
As a savior in his plight.

On the contrary, it doth betray him,
And nothing can belay him,
As he sinks into the mayhem.

A thing he needs so desperately,
Perhaps a soothing, calling beacon,
Which summons him on westerly,
A false prophet to heed inexorably, against whose shine he cannot reason.

If he finds it, what will change?
Is his station all that strange?
Or, is the creature just deranged,
Driven by some mental mange?

It is simpler: he is designed,
With a light burnt in his mind,
As all he'll ever need to find.

He has no choice but to comply,
Be it tamed bulb or wild flame,
The faux-suns call him on to fly,
Without question or equivocality, where the light can only maim.

Forced by nature into this run,
He knows no comfort in the night.
Plunged into pyre of false suns,
He'll find no comfort in the light.

She flowed...

She flowed...

A stillness slept, draped across the settled sands,
Without arousal to the senses of Sound or Sight,
Save for the breeze, which caressed like a gentle hand,
All that it knew there, nestled in the chilling night.
The desert was peaceful.
Precious fluids, reserved for yet another day,
The unborn seed unknowing of its timeless plight.
Humbled thirsts, the yucca plant and tumbling hay,
Subconsciously hoped for the nimbus flight.
The desert was patient.
The choir sung, courtships blossomed with the red dawn sun,
Coyote, Jackrabbit, and Prickly-Pear;
Circular themes, living apart but surviving as one,
Ancient spirits danced across the grains they shared.
The desert was home.

Without a cloud to give warning, or the melting of snow,
A river was born with a nurturing flow.
Like a serpentine lover to the dry burning land,
Her winding body kissed life into dormant sand.
Where once slept a seed, there then stirred a flower,
And all was turned green with her life giving power.

No longer would mouths of the thirsty stay dry.
No longer would hopes be reserved for the sky.
No longer would needle-point winds groan and scratch at the flesh like the angry lost souls of poached pumas.

Through every winding ripple sprang a new blade of grass,
And pussy-willows hung over sparkled, flowing glass,
Which secreted into surrounding earth bleeding life into night-sky petunias.

Spotted moths fluttered, fanning love into the moon's hazy light.
Dragonflies hovered, buzzing luck into the morning bright.
The coyote knelt to drink from this water,
Along side the Jackrabbit, then as a son and a daughter,
Suckling peace and rapture from the river's soothing flow,
That sang back to bright-faced Tawa with a reflective glow.

Every petal, every blade, every leaf and green shade,
Saw its life in that river and the path that she made,
Through the sands, through the hills, through pillars of stone,
A Queen of highest beauty upon a rock-bed throne.

Riding a horse made of all answered prayers,
She flowed through this desert, she flowed through her cares.
A Queen, a Rider, a Mother, this river
The desert reborn from what she delivered,
But the serpentine lover could not kiss forever,
And as her lips dried, all ties had been severed.
As much without warning as the day she had come,
Evaporating into spectral mist, she ended her run.
And as flowers and willows began wilting away
The yucca grew more thirsty with each passing day.

A speckled wind, blows across a thirsty land,
Without acknowledgement to the senses of Touch or Taste,
Except for flame-like heat, that slaps the sand like an angry hand
A bitter reminder of love, loss and waste.
Rocks, Dust, and Bones, are all that remain of former plans,
All green to brown, hope falls from grace.
The desert is dry.
The sun retreats, unable to cope with the tragic scenes,
Leaving all sadness to a waxing moon.
Air like ice, reaching through flesh and torturing dreams,
Exodus of all life back deep in the dunes.
Save for a single Coyote, a tear caught solid before it careens,
Frozen on a long face that laments love-lost too soon.
The desert is cold.
This Prairie-Wolf, weeping out lyrics innate to his songs,
Staring at the ground where once a flower was growing.
White sands shift, beneath the weight of four-toed prongs,
Seeming to sigh with the notion that all life is slowing.
Raising his head, the lone Coyote inhales -- his eyes, with the moon, follow along -- And cries out to the night, "I miss your flowing."
The desert is alone.