kneel and pray
humanity
sit in lotus
on the highways
fill the fields with prostrated bodies
till perception becomes only vibration
cease action
we’ll go extinct
but in exchange
we would have the supreme reality, bliss, timelessness –
these no longer words
but palpable facts,
enough calm to abolish the despair
of another millennium
of 20th centuries;
decay in silence
till there is a pure core of beauty
the entire cosmos
as the tingling of an approaching
eternal orgasm
Pasos, pasos
y una furtiva mirada
tal vez,
entre ojos y ojos
horas y horas
extrañando los nombres
que nunca tuve
perdiendo las vidas
que no fueron mías
pasos lentos
una nota de piano
como esa nieve
lejos de todo,
mi alma cósmica
entre reojos
entre horas
tan lejos de todo.
Estrellas son innumerables silencios,
tan mudas,
historias distantes envueltas en silencio
una grandeza inhumana
sin propósito…
llegamos hasta este instante en el flujo
a través de milenios
murieron los hombres por una causa mayor
una fe intratable
como si su misión se cumpliera en el futuro
un momento culminante para el que todos vivimos
pero anoche me senté a mirar las estrellas
tantas de ellas, tantas como los deseos inacabables del humano
y el mundo sigue persiguiendo ese apogeo histórico
el momento donde todo el sufrimiento, la agonía, la locura
se justifica con un orgasmo divino
nuestras oscuras vidas iluminadas con ilusión de un propósito
¿Dónde?
¿Por qué proyectar al futuro ese infantil capricho?
Queremos gozar de una trascendencia, un sentido
un porvenir decisivo
pero no existe ninguno, nada: excepto el vasto vacío del espacio
nada, excepto el proceso interminable de este mismo instante,
nada, pero esas lucecitas voraces denominadas: estrellas.
El miedo y la inseguridad pueden ocultar la inspiración
construyen murallas alrededor de pequeñas alegrías
y cuando la rutina se une a sus fechorías
regresamos al lodo, nos revolcamos como lombrices
dejamos el devenir correr,
nace la servidumbre al olvido – conocemos la sombra del silencio
hace tantos años inventamos el milagro del asombro
ilimitadas realidades habían en un juguete o el vuelo de una ave
cuando la vibración de cada percepción nos revelaba
la divinidad no-escrita de cada segundo, como discípulos del encanto
antes que el aprendizaje aburrido, la brutal repetición
nos convirtió la existencia en algo trivial,
común entre hordas de humanos,
indiferentes a la poesía de la piel,
indolentes al brillo de los astros
apáticos al arte de la respiración
inasible vapor de la imaginación
exploradores incansables de riquezas perecederas
incapaces en la producción de una sola lucidez
al nunca trasmutar el bullicio de los días
al tacto embriagado de un poema:
mucho menos al éctasis insensato
del un baile enloquecido y solitario ante el domo del cosmos.
It seems to be I am locked inside this excessive silence. That while I look up into the hazy azure of the sky or into the windy skies of night I discover an impenetrable void, a silence that cannot be breached, a solitude that is here to stay. My arms plead with desperation for a sign, my ears are on a pilgrimage in search of a sacred word – a confirmation that life can be trusted. A revelation or miracle that can transform these wild gyrations of nonsense into a lively and trustworthy universe. Long tunnels of agony and atrophy seem to be the destiny of those that aspire to awaken and revive human life from its muddled lethargy. But being trapped inside an inescapable chasm, I have only the ignoble expanse of space to address and all of creation turns its back on me and answers back in SILENCE. I am not insightful enough to interpret my own frustrations, I cannot tell if it is a general trend in this new age or if I stand alone in this inexplicable confusion. Furthermore, the only remedy comes in strings of lyrical eruptions that at first sight seem vague and meaningless, but are in fact projections of the real ambiguity and hollowness that resides deep within. It is unnecessary to find coherence when one is no longer servant to the tyrant of reason, it is superfluous to propound theories when the intellect is too weak to grasp reality. So, the image is inevitable: floating in cold nothingness, silent solitude. A journey through emptiness, a constant motion through space finding every now and then a naked planet, an aura of beauty and patiently collecting the dust of time in expectation of a glorious sun – surrendering to the all-powerful ground of being.
Scientific-minded people believe themselves to be the most rational minds today. They have associated rationality with one method of inquiry (i.e. scientific method) and have abolished all other sources of data and knowledge. This seems to me more like a limitation than an advantage, precisely because science cannot deal with the whole spectrum of our experience. It works simply on the observable external phenomena and has yet to contribute to an understanding of human consciousness. It pretended for many centuries to get rid of this uncomfortable fact but the shadow of consciousness has crept into modern physics and it is now clear that even basic physical concepts such as mass, distance, velocity, time, are dependent on an observer. In a broader sense, rationality should encompass more than just science and its mother logic, considering that science is narrowly limited by its inability to connect with our whole experience of life. In other words, we are aware of things that the analytic mind cannot formulate. The rational discourse of science is incomplete; it cannot be the entire picture since it lacks insight into our inner life which is as real and undeniable as the external world. For this reason we can learn about life equally as much from a scientific treatise as from a novel, a poem, a kiss or a beautiful landscape.
—
(This is not an attempt to invalidate science but simply a reminder that the powerful mystery of life cannot be grasped from one perspective. Those that are dedicated to the exploration of existence must remember: there are no official paradigms; we alone bestow authority to whatever we choose to believe. We cannot limit the cosmos to certain aspects of itself, it is beyond our attempts to reduce it to one knowable thing.)
If we must submit to the irrationality of following all logic to its end, conclusions may turn shockingly paradoxical. I once heard that we have chosen our life from the very start and that our experience on this planet is simply the revelation of our original choice. If this were true then the absurdity of our suffering would be justified since we have chosen beforehand to experience it. The question that remains would be: why have we forgotten our original choice? Why does life present itself as an unknown unfolding instead of being the realization of one’s desire? By some obscure mechanism our original choice has been obliterated, life remains a permanent surprise. At first this seems like another form of fatalism except for the fact that we have chosen that predetermination. On the other hand, most people believe that the universe is a spontaneous happening and we must choose our way through the hazards of spontaneity. Our life is the result of all our choices, but how do we ever get to choose anything? I sat down the other day to think this one over and I discovered that my choices are really just reactions to whatever is presented to my mind. From the pettiest choices to the most important decisions I simply obey a feeling, logic or a whim. In all of these cases I am subject to what simply happens inside me. Should I buy a black or blue pen? I wait for a moment, experience a certain sensation of pleasure in black and I buy the black pen. Should I live in Costa Rica or in India, I wait for a moment, a logical-emotional labyrinth emerges in my mind and by the end of this involuntary frenzy, I make my decision. Naively speaking, thoughts are like emotions, they arise involuntarily and by a law of their own. Most people are identified with their thoughts, but if you ask them how they fabricate a thought they must inevitably answer: it simply happens. So, if my decisions are nothing but reactions to what is presented to my mind, what is allowing these perceptions? If we submit to modern scientific thinking, to explain a perception in the human mind we must pursue a long path through Psychology, Sociology, Biology, Evolution, Neurology, Chemistry, Physics, and we will end up with an ultimate theory for the universe as seen by man. In very simple terms, what we experience is the result of the whole arrangement of the cosmos, and if we knew every bit of information about this arrangement, we could predict ourselves. Again, we fall into an unremitting fatalism.
But what’s the use of all this reasoning and the contemporary compulsive adoration to logic and reason?
I choose not to know.
“Puppet on a string” by Steve Whitney
Beyond Language 
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