The Faux Pas Press #169: Honeycomb and Oil

The Faux Pas Press #169

Honeycomb and Oil

By Chambo Fresh

The wise know when to stop. The wise man also knows when to ask for help, plead with his friends for support in times of trial. No man knows the deepths to which the Shadow Witch can take his soul until he has fallen way beyond his ability. And then what? Another round, another drink, another tuning to man's scoffing and their righteous judgements. There is only one woman and her name is Death. Her end is as bitter as wormwood, sharp as a two-edged sword. That is where the Fool's folly finds itself again and again, wanting desperately to find his meaning in her body of honeycomb and her lips as smooth as oil. I've found that the principles Babylon calls foolish are what brings man wisdom, saves him from death and ultimately leads hims to more power which must be wielded carefully - before the narrative makes a Sorcerer of him once again. We all know what happens to the Sorcerer in this life or the next.

Pains and physical trials make for stronger men, those apt to deal with the enticings of time and space, they make for one who understands the depths of greed. One who gives no time to the wayward flings his fellow knows. One who can discover something great - an unquestionable goodness to move mountain and drink fire. All may know that the Christ shines within and around us, giving us focus where others stray. We come to our oracles trembling in weakness - unsure, doubtful, and plain. And miracles surround our movement, all know the well from which we drink. The mind has not even imagined to good prepared for those who serve others. There is resource where others find none. There is substance when projects seem to dwindle. There is potential, infinite potential to do good and bless others. Even when our circumstance are totally out of our control and the gates of destruction await just miles ahead on the most dangerous of highways. Desert Madness so to speak. There is always a way through it. There is always a way through it. Our equipment works, the subconscious mind is unleashed and the earth quakes at our feet.

The Faux Pas Press #168: Dust Cloud Symphony

The Faux Pas Press # 168

Dust Cloud Symphony

By Chambo Fresh

All of us decide, at the intersection of thought and action, what kind of person we aim to be. And we think that we are getting it, getting along just fine on this side of the Golden Veil. Scoping destinations. Checking valleys over the mountain sides of circumstance, holding fast to our beloved ideals. The destinations we've scoped may be the best for our cherished goals but surely they are not the best for humanity. But like most stubborn travelers moving closer to the Fold in the Fabric of Night, we forget. We forget the source of all wisdom, lose sight of the burning of image - that Master of time and space written on our DNA. It is the Fool's most triumphant destination to see it, the reflection of the Master shining back at him, knowing that the whole journey was not his at all.

The journey was not a position of matter, of the material world so alluring to us all. No, it was all of those whom he served, those from whom he learned and those he taught. And in a thousand tomorrows, approaching the Fold in the Fabric of Night, the Fool learns that his journey's purpose has not been to reach the Valleys of Grandeur  but to move onward to the villages and terraces of sorrow where others need him. And to be needed, oh, how he had scorned those who have needed him. Too many tomorrows led to a bewildered today. The Fool, having accepted the nature of his journey and with courage, takes deep breaths of wild country air, looks to his rear one last time and presses forward towards a Dust Cloud Symphony.

The Fold in the Fabric of Night is where we are destined to travel - into the darkness where children cry, where women have lost hope all of pleasant things, where evil men lie and wait to deceive. The Fool has work to do. For them - not for himself. And in all of our organizing, our organizations, our perfections, the ordered chaos of our time, it is the Fool who was chosen - not the Learned. It is not the best parts that need to be displayed - it is the worst. The inventory needs to be taken. And again, you must cross the dreaded intersections of thought and action where most men run away screaming. Take whatever weapons you need. Cultivate the tools that you can not see. They are there. All of your tools - not to find success of failure. But to be good - to find those who need you. And in finding them, the least of all creations, you will discover a greater reward than your towering fortresses, your splendid little goals - you step across the threshold of the Fold in the Fabric of Night, over the peak of mountainous obstacles, over the wincing fears in circumstances, on the other side of veil. You will not see it if you do not go. Beyond the Dust Cloud Symphony, past the Second Oracle, there is he who is mighty to save you. And of all us need you. Take as many of the hopeless across as you can. They need you - we all need you. And isn't it great to be needed.

The Faux Pas Press #167: Like Saints Burning Candles

The Faux Pas Press #167

Like Saints Burning Candles

By Chambo Fresh

Our reasoning converges with instinct at great moments of transformation. And our pride melts into humility at the crossroads of redemption. And like saints burning candles to the New Mecca, our prayers can be seen throughout all of time. Our amends like incense wafting to the human family - making all bad ideas come to light, making all half-opened plans find fulfillment. The magic of everything is our dreams do not whimper at the change of circumstance - and with clear intention our astral visions do, in fact, become material reality. Like saints burning candles to the New Mecca.

When we talk about perfect amends - we are not talking about saying all of the right words. But, in its nature, amends usually requires some words. These words are also usually delivered directly. Our actions and attitudes can change without amends, but the actual course of our life will not. You see, with new attitude comes a new perspective on our wrongs. The fact that we are committing ourselves to the same ole' lot never crosses this new and improved way of being. In time, we will find the same ole' monsters rear their ugly heads. And we will not know what to do except for behave the way our subconscious has always dictated. Making amends requires words. Not the perfect words - the perfect amends with any of the best words we can muster. We've thought an indirect approach would suffice and that we could spare the whole world any humiliation and pain of directly amending our wrongs. This unfortunately, as I've said, will not save you from the same ole' lot. But like saints burning candles to your New Mecca, we can see them, our integral thoughts, words, and actions as they will be. The evasion of such a crossroad will never give us a true breaking with the wrongs we have perpetuated.

There is no use defending the Ivory Fortress, the Large and Spacious Building. For in it are the galleries of our conduct that ought to have been abandoned. The usual reasons for sidestepping, dancing around like crack heads pleading for a fix, is that our direct amends to other members of the human family are blocked by pride; they are blocked by fear. We ought to see know - as the light shines clearly on our paths - that the residual of amends goes directly to your account. Or have you forgotten? Whatsoever you do unto the least of these - you do unto me.

I am sure that rewards of making amends would appeal to the most selfish of us - if the darkness hadn't kept us so far from the glowing light of he who is might to save. We are blinded by thought, seeking amends for the cleansing of our guilt, or to be reinstated after excommunication, or to just flaunt the new and improved 'me'. We are not salesman peddling people-pleasure and more ego-strutting - we have the rights of all of creation. May amends shine to those in darkness, in pride, and sorrow. Like saints burning candles to a New Mecca.

  

The Faux Pas Press #166: Analysis is Absurd

The Faux Pas Press #166

Analysis is Absurd

By Chambo Fresh

Inwardly I am afraid. Afraid of loneliness, and therefore, being afraid of loneliness, I do all kinds of neurotic things. I attach myself to the savior, the guru, the leader. There is that kind of fear. And then there is the fear of not being able to arrive. The expansion of consciousness. We used to be afraid of being left behind which has translated itself to the fear of not arriving. I must identify myself in order to be. It is possible that we made God in our image - not the other way around. Tremendous sense of uncertainty, right? Not being able to be, we must say, "I'm just going to do my own thing." Fears, fears, fears.

How am I able to deal with the obvious fears that I have described? Is there a way to deal with fear from the root up. Each branch would take a lifetime. And I begin to analyze my fear which becomes a form of paralysis. I'm not escaping, I am not rationalizing, I am not analyzing because I see the absurdity of it. No explanations, no running. I am faced with this thing. Simmering beneath the surface are the unconscious fears. When I see this thing, something else comes out. It is important for the mind to be free of fear. I see outwardly what my fears have produced. Now, I consciously invite them to come to the surface. Do you follow? Conscious can only deal with the things that it knows. But it can not observe what is not known.

The mind can see completely these things. What are we doing in relation to what we are saying? Is there real listening? If we were to relate to each other - relationship would flourish. But our reputation is at stake when we listen. The conscious mind can not invite and expose fears very often - our survival is at stake. There is no escape from fear. I can not run off to the psychiatrist. I understand now that I am left with this - this my little baby to cared after. What shall I do? Some action has to be taken. I can not do a thing about fear. But there is the energy which has been gathered when all dissipation of energy has ended. I have tremendous energy because there is no dissipation. What takes place? What has created fear? What has brought it about? You, my neighbor, my country - I have done it. Not the observer I. But the disorder does not require another mind. What has brought this fear? What is the answer? The answer couldn't be academic. What is the answer to this fact of fear which has been sustained, which has carried on from generation to generation? Can the mind observe this fear?

I am afraid of what is being said about me. This is the result of thought. I see the buried ruins of thought, responsible for all creation. Thought is responsible for all of this. I am afraid of the movement of thought. Thought can only function within the field of knowledge. The association of words - can the mind observe this without the interference of thoughts? Can the mind observe without the movement of thought? A living thing must be understood. Yes, we, the Living. Not analyzed with mirrors of thought spiraling downward.

The Faux Pas Press #165: Signs, Symbols, and Self-Indulgence

The Faux Pas Press #165

Signs, Symbols, and Self-Indulgence

By Chambo Fresh

Disclosure. Our cosmic awareness bridled with sensual discipline in the transference of information from one avatar to another. Our heaviest of circumstances, the growth and welfare of others, and liberation of the guilty conscience. We've got the best of motives. We're thinking of you of course when disclosure becomes a "necessary evil". But our relationship to others, the Living, those who may not have chosen wisely or those who may have it all together. Our disclosure of secret information to another is part of rebooting our own systems. These new programs teach us that there is one main consideration we ought to take into account. Will this information we are sharing update positively or negatively the hardware of another soul, avatar, creation, etc.? When we make amends, beginning with our own honest survey of the system, do we consider the growth and welfare of others? This may not be the best way to propagate fear through out but it is the way of consciousness.

We can hardly disclose in great detail the nature of extramarital affairs, for example, on the shoulders of an unsuspecting wife or husband. When we do this, thinking that our disclosure is actually helping the growth of our beloved, we recklessly make the burdens of others heavier - this, in turn, does in no way make our burden lighter. "Telling all" sometimes is a sign of our own self-indulgence, a symbol that we are not as far along the Road Less-Traveled as we thought. In making amends, we ought to consider this - tact, humility, and compassion. Employing the art of listening - really listening to what one is saying. Or, we can simply try to escape the treacherous and unforgiving Terrain of Now and find ourselves even more lost than we have been.

Standing on our own feet, without the approval of anyone else requires that cosmic awareness with sensual discipline. A simplicity so to speak. That old, neurotic self-hatred has nothing to do with helping others. Making our exploits the center piece of the conversational table does not promote growth. It is acting - it is self-indulgence which, as a result, keeps outdated programs running their course. Seek out the guidance of a trusted ally while braving the deep Ocean of Consciousness. Doing so will result in a mature balance with interpersonal relationships - even in the most fragile ones. We are not the heroes of our own grief - we are the heroes that lift the grief of others by being kind to ourselves. Disclosing what a Shit Bird I have been to every, living soul is just plain neurotic.

The Faux Pas Press #164: Courage to Make Progress

 

The Faux Pas Press #163

Courage to Make Progress

By Chambo Fresh

A little bit of courage. It takes just a little bit of infamous and irreverent courage these days to make necessary change. It takes gumption, a little bit of chutzpa, and a lot of Yiddish words I've always wanted to master. To approach an associate with clarity and admit honestly that you're life has become unmanageable is tough - to ignore the jeers and contempt displayed in many forms, perhaps, when cutting off a circle of regular drinking buddies. We have, however, a right to this courage, a God-given birth right to make necessary changes, to honestly reflect on ourselves, and get some help if we need it. It takes a little bit of courage and a whole lot of humility.

Exposing ourselves for who we really are? This is the great quagmire of time. How can we change? Is it that we are becoming something we've always wanted to become? Or can it be viewed, instead, as becoming what we already are? (So deep, I know.) I am convinced that showing ourselves to the world is what we are all trying to do. I just want to remind you that our spiritual progress is not a gift from God - it is a right. To be mature, emotionally, spiritually - these are ours to be had. Not some elusive deer hunt. We are not to meander in the Lone and Dreary World without these sacred endowments. To be around? Others are not suffering while around you unless you are suffering while around you. Being pleasant to yourself is pleasing to others. Not the other way around. We often think, "If I could be pleasing to all of these people then I will be okay with me." Not true.

Another right. I have the right to make amends. Beginning from within, I can begin to right the damage my actions may have caused others. And because I can now accept myself, just as I am, I can joyfully accept others just as they are. For the perfectionist, like myself, spiritual perfection is my right. Not so. I have the right to accept others just the way they are, no more, no less. This is tough. This also takes a little bit of courage and a lot of humility. And for the addictive mind, the super-egoist, this may never happen the way we would like. However, you always have the right to accept or reject others based on your closely held opinions and beliefs.

Finally, it takes balls also to make friend first with God. What does it mean to court the approval of man and what will it later mean when his approval is gone? Having a friend in this power as you understand him is clutch. You will see your friends dwindling away - many of you already have because of your actions, your unwillingness to go deep into consciousness or vice versa. Sometimes when I'm feeling just a little bewildered in the Lone and Dreary World, I say this prayer, of a Quantum Wizard - a computer program. Prayers are programs. At least that is how I see it.

 I say this one: God, show me that it is okay to like myself even while trying to repair old wrongs. May I keep telling myself that I am different now. That I have changed. I am a better, healthier, wiser person that I ever was before. I have made some good choices and made some no-good choices. Grant me the right to spiritual progress so that I can fly higher than ever before.

Without first acknowledging a wrong - amends is useless. We are working together within a frame work of hope, courage to make progress. To be emotionally and spiritually whole is our birth right.

The Faux Pas Press #163: Under the Pi of Heaven

The Faux Pas Press #163

Under the Pi of Heaven

By Chambo Fresh

There are moments in my life that are inexplicable. I'm sure if it is the world that needs me or Chambo that needs it. Messengers appear at every turn, those I've shunned before, those who seem to have infinite patience for me and my antics. Sure, it is fun to sit on a throne of self-righteousness, pointing out flaw after flaw of those in the world. But things could always be worse and I have so much. Messages seem to reflect off of matter, bouncing in every direction, landing perfectly into my path with so much meaning and pertinence. I don't get it. I guess there must be a readiness in the heart. I can tell you that my pineal gland is active - just about as active as a prayerful mind can get. Calling on help, receiving help and then forgetting that I got it, and then apologizing. I don't know how long this cycle will continue. For the rest of my days perhaps.

A grid is plotted, even just close enough to a destination, when we think thought and speak words. But there are so many jewels to gather along the way. Maybe there is not enough room for them because of the worthless rocks we carry in our pack. Our grid is plotted close enough to our intention for us to feel the fabric of our dreams. Close to this plotted point must also be a readiness to accept the full consequences of our past acts. The kicker for me - the thing that keeps me away from that exact grid - I don't want to take on the responsibility for the well-being of others at the same time. I feel that this is the nature of healing though. I mean, just to make a casual apology seems like a good enough start for me. But I don't think is. A true and relentless change in attitude, however, can do wonders to make up for past unkindness. I pay my debts when I owe - I do this as soon as I am able without justifying a thing. Can we swallow that pill? Our irreconcilable pride? The first overture to the symphony of your conscious life, the first terrain feature recognizable to a dreamed intention is reconciliation. More belongings will not suffice.

Divine help is needed to make direct amends sometimes. I've learned this the hard way and am still going through it. But I can see the grid points on the map, all those intentions placed out there for renewed vigor. Unloading our guilt and admitting our mistakes sometimes does the trick. Other times, we have to use our creativity. I don't feel that we can really make restitution without developing some care, some real concern about others. I am not talking about an unhealthy co-dependence, the chains of emotional torture that others hold. Changing my behavior. An awareness, a consciousness for others - to care and then apologize if need be. Doing this brings down a symphony of perfect into our lives. Pi - the perfect number moving into infinite space.

The Faux Pas Press #162: Travel on this Storm

The Faux Pas Press #162

Travel on this Storm

By Chambo Fresh

I felt bronze chains shackle my legs to attitude and the tempest tearing me down. But the open fields, not abysmal fate, my feet upon this ground. I wander far on hills of fire and pray for Odin's might, and yield my will to one knows, no battles left to fight. Returning new to a future grand and wings upon my back, forsaken all the dreary rains forgotten times of lack. Apologized for the what I've been and tried to brave the norm, to play the part you've asked of me, been willing to conform. It seems this life is not for me but for everyone else instead, seems that others wished me theirs or else they've wished me dead.

I wander dark upon the storm, the only place I'm free, where savior, family, king, and throne won't come to ransom me. Am I afraid? Not a day goes by that I don't feel that burn, but a voice that still whispers right, I know I'll have my turn. Of all those voices chiming in and commenting on my choice, there is always he who is might to save, a calm and cheerful voice. I return from foreign lands anew, I've traveled on the storm. Okay to sing along with her, my spirit to transform. My will and his together now, the times that we will share, I'll teach the power of these words and hide from tempests' snare.

My time won't be like yesterday, I'm born again in rays. And walk to North Park's healing grounds, and mold the future's clay. I've loved you deeply, all of you. And shot blindly towards the dew, to prove herewith that dreams are real, all old things will turn new. And Monterey where I proved it once will be mine once again. I write the ledger on open fields, the future with this pen. Lift the weight of Atlas fame and break the silly norm, okay to sing along with her, okay to ride the storm.

The Faux Pas Press #161: A Blade of Grass Vibrates

The Faux Pas Press #161

A Blade of Grass Vibrates

By Chambo Fresh

There is a perfect circle of sound and the Sun is beaming a frequency of 528 Hz. There are nine creative frequencies, just like the nine steps on a scale - though the original scale was six, which really constitutes the ground work for a free energy system amongst all of humanity. Because there is a perfect circle of creation through out the Universe, all the tools that we need for healing are here, and there is a frequency which vibrates, on all main radio broadcasts, in dissonance to the frequency of love - 528 Hz. Why not vibrate in harmony with the sacred creative frequency? Music must be then the universal language. Sounds heal. Your radio does not.

When you sigh, when you chant, when you laugh - you are actually vibrating on these same frequency as a blade of grass. Words, sounds, frequency - let there be light. Son luminescence - we are talking about a mathematical formula by which to understand the Universe. If you really want to understand this technology - you must understand that your lips become the most powerful tools of destruction that exist. To say words, "I am successful." To bless others, "You are successful." You are oscillating in tune with frequency as do all creations in the Universe - even a blade of grass. Agree? Disagree? This arpeggio of nine creative frequencies are tools that can be used to do miracles. For example, let us say words of amends directly to those we have harmed wherever possible unless it would even more harmful to try and do this. Why is it so difficult to muster up the courage? Ego. It batters our hearty little egos to make real  restitution and entropy is the natural slant of evil. The sounds that our amending words make do, in fact, interact with physiology and do, in fact, change the primary set frequency of a living field (i.e. a human). Better yet - sing your apologies! The battering of our heavy pride is actually a reward in itself. Restitution will bring even greater rewards down the line. A reaction is almost invariably positive when we make amends. It does take some balls. The results are always good. Have we, the Living, really done the best we can to make restitution for all of our wrongs. Really - spoken words to those we have harmed? Written the words out and rehearsed them over and over again so that they also resonant within, allowing for self-acceptance.

Now, we can always count on divine providence to help if we start crawling under rocks. Words spoken audibly to a Creator who is always vibrating on that same frequency. Call it prayer if you want. I do. There is a new and liberating feeling that washes over, a feeling of relief, when we say to someone else, "Hey, Broseph Smith, Jr., I was wrong, man. And I am really sorry about those words I spoke and the way I treated you." There is no need to worry about cracking that old, brittle crust of an ego. We are making it easier to tune in. There is a perfect circle of sound and the Sun is beaming a frequency of 528 Hz. And restitution is always blessed.

 

The Faux Pas Press #160: Living Breathing Fury

The Faux Pas Press #160

Living Breathing Fury

By Chambo Fresh

Listening to the hungry vibrations of your bowels leads to some dark places. But, as I've previously stated, there are always paths to a win here in this experience. Most of these paths have to do with the humble and righteous act of listening - an art form really. So that we can see fears for what they really are. We can also see our opponents for who they really are, perhaps they are the Sorcerers of the Outer Darkness - where our bowels normally take us, to abysmal pits of fear. And we find in ourselves disturbing images of our demise. But from this art of seeing and learning to give perspective to all loss, we can stand with arms raised to the Sun. This clarity, after a while, can be communicated verbally. Without this eternal perspective, this real clarity, our skill in whatever action breeds self-importance - whether this self-importance is identified within ones self or collectively or even on a national level. The real, living, breathing fury of the matter is that this self-importance denies clarity. The real, living, breathing fury of the matter is that with self-importance, which we often confuse as self-confidence, breaks down the very nature of who we are at the core.

Furthermore, you can not have clarity with out compassion. Now, I'm not talking about unhealthy emotional co-dependency masquerading around like compassion. Or spiritual self-importance pretending to be charitable. I'm talking about the willingness to listen, really, without any agenda. Without compassion, our skills have become more important than anything else. Survival of the fittest excusing all of our inhuman and self-serving actions.

Also, this immaculate perspective, clarity, can not dwell in the presence of fear. Most of us, including myself, live with a great deal of fear most days. This, as most spiritual masters of the past have told us, denies true compassion. Do you see the quagmire in which humanity finds itself? A fear in any form excuses all the clarity we borrow from the divine source. There is this looming physiological fear which pretends to be living, breathing fury. The same applies to psychological fear.

Therefore, a person who is afraid in any way has no compassion. Can we go down, honestly, the list of our fears? The fear of growing old, or of loss, we've got these huge fears of not being successful, the fear of others, the fear of being found out. Will they find out what a fraud you are? Fear doesn't need a pretty little decorated invitation. It is there. See it - with true, living, breathing fury.

So, you can look at fear now. It is there simply because you are a living, breathing, furious human being. It is there both consciously and unconsciously. Look at them with living, breathing fury and you will never ever lose. In this state, you will say, "Yes. I  am afraid of losing. I am afraid of looking like the Fool. (Which is right where we start and right where we finish.) I am afraid of handing over my dignity to people who do not appreciate it. I am afraid of not measuring up." If you can listen, if you can see with clarity these items - you can handle this thing. I'm sure of it.

The Faux Pas Press #159: Zarathustra Cries at the Presense of Jesus

The Faux Pas Press #159

Zarathustra Cries at the Presence of Jesus

By Chambo Fresh

They tell you that you are not doing enough, that you are a day late and two dollars short - it doesn't seem to be going the way it was all supposed to go. They denied your application. They wouldn't let you go on the trip. He would not listen while you were so clearly communicating all that you wanted to say. Even in your beautiful home, with all the delicate care you've placed before him, there are some parts of your life that could look more like an article in The New Yorker. The perfection that you've sought all of these days: you're flat in Manhattan, the parties of delight, the great meals you've planned where people of prestige and significance will come to worship at your feet. They don't seem to look like you envisioned. Is it you? Is there some button you are supposed to push? The short answer. Yes.

I am going to postulate new ideas. I pray sincerely that you have the generosity and intention to listen - or at least pretend to read and enjoy The Faux Pas Press. What I am doing is asking you to listen , with compassion, neither agreeing or disagreeing, but rather, read using all of your faculties: logic, sanity, rationale, and just a smidge of humility.

Our skills and abilities have become important. This is how we earn our keep so to speak. Skill means earning a living, it means providing and keeping up. All of our educational institutions - our universities, our colleges, our public schools are directed for the purpose of skill. Got it? Now, when one is totally and exclusively educated for this purpose, the skills we acquire invariably breed a certain sense of power, arrogance, and self-importance. There is a connection - 1) the relationship between skill and clarity and 2) the relationship between clarity and compassion. I talk a lot of horseshit, I know. I have been told this my whole life - mostly from state-sponsored educators. Now, we can talk about the art of listening, the ability to see, and the drive to learn. The art of listening is to listen so that everything goes naturally into its right place. Art is about putting things where they belong. And this whole seeing thing - this is about observing without distortion. You can not really observe a fuzzy image, can you? Really see it. To see clearly, to have great clarity of perception - you just can't have any distortion. Distortion is comes alive with any form of motive, purpose, or direction at all. So, I ask, "Is it you?" Why yes, yes it is.

Learning is not just the accumulation of mountainous knowledge. Hey, this is necessary for skillful action. Trust me. I get it. But what about learning from others, your spouse, your children, your infamous neighbors who go around fucking shit up all day - learning without accumulation. There are two types of learning. You can acquire knowledge through experience, through books, through education. Your hard drive files and stores this for later use. We act upon this data. Sometimes skillfully - sometimes not-so-skillfully. There is yet another type of learning, madam. In this field, you never accumulate. It is to listen - registering not just words from the mouth. But listening - registering what is absolutely necessary and nothing else. In this field, the mind is not cluttered up with the movement and processing of knowledge. This is an art. And you just were not trained up that way in the greatest nation the world has ever known. The mind is too cluttered to send clear signals to the Universal Server, cluttered with all of our knowledge. Sometimes, we must surrender this stuff - sometimes, Zarathustra has no choice but bow down at the presence of the Master - to listen and to worship at his feet.

The Faux Pas Press #158: Who is Running the Show?

The Faux Pas Press #158

Who is Running the Show?

By Chambo Fresh

All of us have programming - subconscious to low-conscious. From an academic point of view, our lives are generally not something to brag about. But applying the New Science, rewriting the subconscious mind, the habitual and ingrained behaviors of our upbringing, we can see ourselves in this experience as literal miracle. A series of programs running that we have co-created, that we have literally commanded the Main Operating System to run. To be the happiest person in the world. What is learning really if no transformation can occur?

Our personal bests continue to progress daily, our limitations smash into pieces and we see the Universe corresponding with the programs we have written. So, there it is - did happen because of our genetics? Did it come about because we were nice? Or did it come about because of how he thought and behaved? Behave as if you were the greatest poker player that ever lived - see if your game doesn't start changing.

Learning how to orchestrate an attitude like the maestro conducts the strings, leaning how to breathe in harmony, a partnership with the divine and in a fellowship with all of humanity, with the living vessels oscillating in this field of view, can be, and should be, a very fascinating adventure into the unknown. But each one, the citizens of this planet, find that science isn't always the Go-to Man - we find that science is not the leader but the follower. We find that we don't make much headway in trusting only in the hard, right-brained logic. We don't make much headway in our life's adventure. What we must dive into is the pool of wreckage we have caused and take a look. Take some time to do an accurate survey of the harm we have left in our wake. Making amends becomes necessary, not as the solution for righting our Dharma, not simply to get better sleep at night, but as the way to literally reprogram our souls. Make a list of those you have harmed and make restitution if you so inclined - or even if you don't feel so inclined. I promise you will see the residual all around you.

What is really there? The Gardener can give you the tools to look so, so closely at your actions that you can see as an observer not just the subject of your experience. Saying, "God, give me some of this brutal honesty that I so need. I have to look inside myself to discover what my life has really been about. Can I see the ways that my sick and irresponsible behavior has affected the most important people in my life?" Our shortcomings do not thrust us into Outer Darkness for eternity, we don't suffer from some genetic Loner's Disease. I must know that, no matter how alone I felt, my lies, just like all the lies perpetuated in our society, these fabrications of low-consciousness  are circles widening beneath me feet. Circles of hurt. You and God are running this show - always the Magician and the Fool.

The Faux Pas Press #157: Magical Incantations

The Faux Pas Press #157
 
Magical Incantations

By Chambo Fresh

Gratitude seeps in the bones, dripping all over the Fool like syrupy dew from beyond. Nothing, no, nothing can take away what he has learned on the Journey of Infinite Potential. He has influenced and been influenced by countless travelers, all handing out as much gauge as they can, trying to ensure his safe passage or garner for themselves a disciple. Most council given in the material will be based in some kind of trepidation, hierophantic teachings of avoidance and conservation, of worry and security. His basic human needs are met and have always been met by the tender of the Garden, he who is mighty to save. No influence, not anything, can take away the lessons you’ve learned. And like the Fool, you find yourself either in the Tower of Illusion, holding onto its cold, hard iron like a fortress of the Soul. And like the Fool, you may find yourself lost and confused, seeking the next exhilarating trances to soothe your pains. But all of us, in some way, have something to pass along to other travelers. Do we share the fear, the pain, and the watch-out-for-that-cliff?

Somewhere along the line as we have become more and more involved in our daily pursuits, somewhere along the line, we reach a sharp awareness, a consciousness, seeing the value of honesty and candor, of handing out some really important and useful gauge. One of the first things we realize, and have to admit to ourselves and others, is that our past behaviors, our past trepidations, have led to ways of thinking that are far from sane or even basically rational. And you know, as soon as we make this difficult admission, doing so without shame, guilt, or embarrassment, we find yet another dimension, beautiful destinations in the Ocean of Consciousness, vibrant and white, glowing sands of the Infinite. We find ourselves loving and looking forward to everything we have denied ourselves. In our gradual recovery from fear-based living, we can expect that life will become ever richer and ever more serene.

The Fool knows, even as he takes his mighty first leap of faith – it could be the first honest move you make in a long time – honesty and sanity will take a little bit of time. This kind of living takes practice and courage. It takes courage to be honest. The old, delusional, head-tripping self is as different from the Conscious You as night is from the shining day. We need to accept, with reckless abandon, without judgment, that it is going to take some time. It is going to take more than just one grey dawn to change, fundamentally, who I am. This kind of honesty takes a little practice, a few incantations of magik as well. Then, and only then, will others listen to our gauge, our suggestions for the traveler.

The Faux Pas Press #156: Titans Wait Beneath

The Faux Pas Press #156

Titans Wait Beneath

By Chambo Fresh

Ravaging the landscape of our senses, the Illuminati Nefalim have convinced nearly all of humanity that our senses are an accurate portrayal of reality. We now know that this is a lie - we eat the red pill. Government sponsored, systematically programmed teachers, social servants, counselors, doctors, policy makers, and law benders have purchased their wages with work that does not accomplish the aim of its stated intent. Youth are not getting any "better" or more adaptable to social programs because the programs themselves are super outdated and our youth are not, well, outdated. Is it possible that they are just smarter than you, the Golden Ratio displayed in all of creation, most importantly, them. War ravages the landscape because we are all fighting it, the material world, sensing that it is reality. It is not. The material world is not reality.

Love is the vibration of our new programming - it is not a concept of the material struggle for possession and ownership. Our physical senses mislead us into thinking that we love the objects of our obsession, that we can have real ownership over things. Governments sway from side to side in these realms by taking possession of possession and start talking redistribution. What the material world is really is a response to sound wave either oscillating at a high or low rate. Matter changes because it does not exist. It can be proven. And you must accept this also if we are going to enter the new phase of human evolution. We must listen and understand that matter is only a response to our thoughts. We say we love but we send out fear. Do you say, "I love you, son." Do you send out fear, seeing your child as matter to be held and molded. That is why they don't call you. You talk spiritual but you have not understood. Why don't you look up the Sacred Geometry, why don't you look up the Golden Ratio, the Fibonacci Sequence, the writings of one Jiddu Krishnamurti? If you will, you will discover a Titan of Quantum Time lying beneath the surface.

You see, I don't believe that the Journey of Infinite Potential exists and the Ocean of Consciousness works because I read it in a book or because I heard other people say so. I see quantum juniper reflections straying the skies all around my temporal corpus, angels from other dimensions buoying me in weakness, the Four Corners bending together like construction paper in a pre-school classroom. I see Lola running laps around the man she calls father, I see his reflection in the mirror and I am awestruck, I am overcome with the undeniable feeling that our programs of government and state, our population control programs are large conspiracies of fear where everyone is convinced that the material world is real and that they must fear death. I believe this because I am recovering and I see others recovering as well. And a Titan waits beneath the surface.

The Faux Pas Press #155: To Reforgive is to Reboot

 
















The Faux Pas Press #155

To Reforgive is to Reboot

By Chambo Fresh

Reality seems nothing like reality. Forgiveness seems like the weakest thing I've tried. And some days when the Universe isn't corresponding to my boot plan. Something real to me dies. But what does it mean to be a game changer? To thrust when other forces just meander. It means to run only the programs that you desire most. It means to let go, let God? Surely it must mean forgive.

Isles of forgiveness await us in the Ocean of Consciousness. But out in the dreary sea of time the voyager loses hope. He remembers the Shores of Numbness - how real it felt. Good. Bad. Mediocre. At the very least it was real. And regrets his choice - that choice to sail the tempest, to brave the deep and frightening Oceans of Consciousness. The only refuge the Fool finds out there is forgiveness. That is reality. The material world is not. Isles of Forgiveness where we can rest a while before braving the deep. Brave the deep of human consciousness. But we must brave the deep, must brave the deep.

Regret can be a slimy kraken in the Ocean of Consciousness, especially inside the mind of an addict, and in continues to lurk patiently while we hoist our sails and plot the course. The kraken can be summoned in many subtle ways; it can be a slimy kraken moving stealthily under the ship, making just enough noise to scare us - to convince us that the ocean is too unforgiving. I must protect myself constantly against guilt, against regret and the self-accusations concerning my past.

If it is necessary, I must constantly reforgive, reboot the system with fresh applications, accepting myself as a mixture of both good as well as bad. Am I braving the deep? Or will I settle for nothing less than the human impossibility of spiritual perfection. I must plunge, searching for any lurking creatures, especially for left over guilt which can, when I am unwary, damage my purpose. To stop kicking myself and pointing out my imperfections - all those lesser qualities which detract from the ideal and conscious me. No longer do I need to be unreachably, inhumanly perfect, but just spiritually whole. When did we allow evil to become stronger than us? Such is the nature of evil. In time all foul things come forth if they are not dealt with - the slimy kraken deep in the Ocean of Consciousness. But we must brave the deep.

The Faux Pas Press #154: The Old Programming Language

The Faux Pas Press #154

The Old Programming Language

By Chambo Fresh

Old encoding leaves our vessels, our avatars prone to viruses and open to cyber attack from the philosophically dead. When we least expect it, the keen, smart, and educated mind will divert us back into the lands of old ideas, into the creeping mossy lands of the dead. My mind, for example, is a freaking expert download machine, downloading, planting, and cultivating negative ideas within the very circuitry of the machine. Affirmations hold come hard when you cultivate such feelings as guilt, envy, fear, anxiety, and worthlessness. The minute I spot any of these poisonous feelings. I have to cast them out by cyber ritual, casting them out of the hardware, reboot the system with new software. If not the more I think about them, the stronger and more persistent they get. I'll be thinking about this shit all day, everyday until I have to die and reincarnate with new hardware.

The Old Programming Languages are still being ran is this realm. But we've been given tools, all kinds of tools: gyms, yoga studios, support groups, health food stores, art galleries, concerts, tea, medicinals, herbs, fungi, and concoctions. Silly to try and list the amount of resources we've been given now to update the coding. You can think about the same old shit, run the same old programs, or you can update and evolve. When negative feelings arise do I name them, claim them, and dump them?"

The surest way to forget about your feelings is pretend that they are not there. Like viral chain malware, our feelings can give life to spoiled offspring. These little bastard children act up when they are ignored. But, hey, like all offspring, they are here, they are mine, and I am responsible for them. No one else is responsible for your children - not the government, not your church, not your spouse, not your parents, not your baby's daddy cousin.  Even if you would rather make-believe that your feelings are not yours. Do a scan of the system. Dump the programs that are not working.

The Faux Pas Press #153: Superstar Sins

The Faux Pas Press #153

Superstar Sins

By Chambo Fresh

Brought out of the abyss, from the doldrums of yesterday, the Fool often makes glimmer what is not really gold. We lure attention, court it, and then forget it. From the Massa Confusa, pain turns to nightmares into dreams; our sweat churns ideas and the like. And we are free to disseminate. Consciousness in the observer makes for a conscious observation though. And separates what is inaccurate with what is eternally true.

Some of us, new on the Journey of Infinite Returns, could not resist telling anyone who would listen just how messed up our thinking had been, just how "bad" shit had gotten for us and our loved ones. (Guilt streaming like Wi-Fi downlink at Gigabytes/second). Just as often, we totally exaggerated even modest accomplishment. (Pride ejaculating like a 19^th-Century oil strike.) We exaggerated our accomplishments and we exaggerated our guilt.

Confessing our wrongs, as we understand them, is necessary. But is it necessary to race about "confessing all"? Can you consider the widespread exposure of your many oh-so-interesting superstar sins as a true form of humility? It is not a great spiritual asset. Only as we grow in the Journey of the Self do we realize that our theatrics and our storytelling are just forms of exhibitionism that fulfill the same needs as sins themselves, our light waving, our strutting and cutting down of others. And with this retrospect, can we find the divine, stellar form of humility. Realizing once and for all that, maybe, just maybe.....we are not so important after all.
 
May I learn, once and for all, that there is a gaping hole between the plateaus of real humility and our dramatized self put-downs? Confrontation has to occur sometimes when we seek center-stage to out-do or out-cool the next ego still in suffering. When do I have to share my adventure stories, starry-eyed listeners oh-so impressed with my recovery? "Yes. I've gone to the abyss, my friends. I really have." My account of addictive misdeeds does not have to take on the epic grandeur of heroic, Homeric exploits.

The Faux Pas Press #152: Choosing Worlds

 

The Faux Pas Press #152

 

Choosing Worlds

 

By Chambo Fresh

 

A fixed thing that you can see and touch. Modern Physics has shown us that the solidity is a mirage. Amplify frequency and the structure of matter will change, corresponding with said electronic propagation. All of matter corresponds, on some level, to oscillations through the unseen world. Radio frequencies affect continents, the earth itself coming into existence, explosions, everything owes its existence completely to sound. Sound is the basis of form and shape. This is how the world began, how creation took shape. Into the great voids of space came a sound - matter then took shape. Guess what all of us have within us? A transmitter and a receiver. The ability to send and receive messages on vibrations.

When we hear, we either accept or reject. Or immediately oppose an idea. Most acts of hearing are not listening. In listening, there is no acceptance or rejection. To attend totally, intensely listening, giving your whole attention to something. In that state of attention, there is the act of listening. And the act of listening puts away the thing that is not true. Listening to the totality of a thing, there are no folders of inattentive barriers waiting to be opened in the cabinets of your mind. Then one can look and then one can listen. With affection, with care, with attention to know what another is saying. This is creation. This is love.

So often, the act of sharing in great detail the nature of our wrongs becomes our obsession - especially on the flipside of pride which is guilt. To experience extreme guilt is the same as pride. It does not allow us to listen, and therefore, does not allow us to create - the sending and receiving of frequencies. Especially those of highest interval and shortest wavelength, those that create without judgment.

A collision of forces is what makes an atom bomb. It is within the realm of scientific possibility that there could be two worlds existing simultaneously. Which world do you tap into? And which world have you clung to? Like all spiritual avatars have spoken.

The Faux Pas Press #151

Should?

By Chambo Fresh

The King has stepped off of his thrown. The empress reigns majestic, Star-being from another dimension, shines on the Fool. He looks back at the canyon's road he has traveled and now sees the Fields of Gold he would not have found if he'd quit. There is always a way through if you look, no road to arduous, no journey to stern. And on the other side, you see it. And you know. Now and forever. There are some things that can never be taken away.

Consciousness is the ocean pushing like pioneer-style churns underneath. In each and every soul, placed here, for this time and purpose, is an ocean of pure consciousness waiting to be traveled. And God could and would if he were sought. Light can and will shine if you will seek it. "Well, I'm better off, it is safer and I am more protected here in the Tower." 

"Have I traveled all this way only to find that the one result it yielded was an ethereal life lesson, leaving me with nothing? Have I done all this work only to find a dry pot at the end of the rainbow?"

Let me tell you something. A lesson costs sweat, it costs blood, it costs tears. And is the most valuable ingredient to fulfilling living. From these lessons come more consciousness, from consciousness comes power, from power comes the ability to command the seas. Real power. Consciousness. Whether we should or should not be here is not the question. I don't know if others can see it - whether we yield any return from an action.

I can't tell you whether you should. All I can tell you is that I should. I should focus on my daily actions and how they impact others. Not what new road I should travel or what new home I should own by now. Not the new and improved attributes that your spouse should possess. What new opportunities should have shown up by now. Life happens on life's terms.

All I know is that I need the lesson. In the lesson comes consciousness. I can, will, and should be here, right here, right now. Whether I have something measurable to show someone else is not my concern. What matters is how I think, speak, and act toward myself and others. And we must choose to surrender all of it.

The King has stepped off of his thrown. The empress reigns majestic, Star-being from another dimension, shines on the Fool. He looks back at the canyon's road he has traveled and now sees the Fields of Gold he would not have found if he'd quit. There is always a way through if you look, no road to arduous, no journey to stern. And on the other side, you see it. And you know. Now and forever. There are some things that can never be taken away.

The Faux Pas Press #150: Fire Breather or Words Have Power

The Faux Pas Press #150

Fire Breather or Words Have Power

By Chambo Fresh

So, I guess a genre of ideas I've tried to explore with The Faux Pas Press, a thing that has always fascinated me is the unreasonable and often times ruthless spinning of words. Tone, inflection, frequency. These have seemed to me through out my life to pay off big dividends or cost me. I wonder if others feel the same. The power of the spoken word. Even just sound, vibration, resonating out from within a tapping into the ocean of consciousness which is the real stuff of the Universe, the real building block. Not money, not material, not position or aesthetic.

Adolf Hitler spoke with such conviction as to tap, like a keg, the dormant goo of consciousness, the consciousness of an entire nation, turning it into a real culture of frenzy, a cornucopia filled with spoiled fruits. It was not just words that Hitler totted but a deep understanding of how they affect the world around him. A quiet artist for a good period, a virtually loner, this insecure impotent brought a nation of his fellows along for the ride. Fire breathing past, future, present, gathering intelligence all the while. That same fire breather is within each of us.

Perhaps, all Hitler wanted was the right woman to tell him he was enough, that he mattered. Or sell a piece of art. But alas, the entropy, the resistance won. His pineal gland was clear. He didn't drink. He didn't smoke. Wasn't even that interested in engaging in love in any form. He used his ascension for the control. That is still going on today. And we remain in chains.

The pineal gland calcifies if left inactive for too long, there is build up and the culprit can be words. But Star-beings and Angels wait for us to speak kind words to ourselves and others before manifestations can occur. Our ascension to the dimensions of love and light depend on it. To be controllable, the vibration of fear that sits on the lowest of frequencies and longest of wavelengths, all the enlightened have to do is be in tune while others are not. Spiritual reality is unavailable to some. But an awakened pineal gland, free of mercury, can prove to be detoxifying to the whole soul. Substances calcify the gland but kind, loving words spoken loudly and often can begin the process, where power is yours. The Fire Breather spits heavy metals, pharmaceutical waste, and produce harming and poisonous chemicals in others. Words, my friends. I just want to caution my readers about their words. And encourage their ascension. Words, sounds, intonation, frequency - these are the tools by which the Quantum Computer is programmed.

The Faux Pas Press #149: Howling Hermits of Chengdu

Abinadi before the wicked King Noah

 

The Faux Pas Press #149
 

Howling Hermits of Chengdu

By Chambo Fresh

Sooner or later, the Fool is led to ask himself the age-old question "Why?" He becomes absorbed with the search for answers, not from an idle curiosity, but out of a deeply felt need to find out why people live, why they want and need love and take from others, if only to suffer and die. The Hermit represents the need to find deeper truth. That truth, an understanding of the Quantum Computer must be understood by ritual thought multiplied by ritual action. Song, dance, powerful visualization, incantation, prayer, programming, writing, and the circulation of ideas into the ether.

The Fool begins to look inward, trying to understand his feelings and motivations. The sensual world holds less attraction for him, and he seeks moments of solitude away from the frantic activity of society. In time he may seek a teacher or guide who can give him advice and direction.

There are a few teachers that have become my howling hermit teachers of Chengdu. We emphatically writes about the number 8 declaring all the programs we spin into the ether. Not just putting it out there. Not just manifesting a desired aim. In the age of Facebook, Twitter, and more and more information, we ought to take time to ritualize our actions, our thoughts, our deeds. Take time to put down on paper the items of our uber-conscious mind, connecting to the 'Master Mind' so to speak. Not just jumping into the newest ideology stipulated by songsters totting Apple's Editors Choice on electronic talismans we carry around. Ideas pop into our head. We say, "Hey. Aren't I the one who supposed to be living that phantasm. Didn't I request that reality before? Didn't ask and why wasn't it given?" Make some time. You will find that you score higher on your Chinese DLPT than ever thought imaginable, you will find that others leave you in peace when you are conducting magic. You will find that others respect you tremendously. You will find that programming is an important part of life. And it didn't start with the geeks in Silicon Valley. It started eons away - way, way out into space-time. My father is a programmer and so am I.

The Faux Pas Press #148: Banishing of the Black Succubus

The Faux Pas Press #148

Banishing of the Black Succubus

By Chambo Fresh

The rulers of this domain do not dwell in bodies mortally stricken with addiction, bound into flesh by Universal Law. We don't battle against the flesh but against a host of energetic principality hell bent on destroying the Warriors of Helaman, dedicated to the aim of the Second Law of Thermodynamics. The can and will visit you in the night if you let them, allow the chakras of the human soul stay stagnant or incommunicative. Pick up your sword and win glory. Find the channels for energy that linger beyond the seen, find the hiding place of all that is good within, find the immortal lost somewhere in the deep and grab him by the hand. Always shown what to do. At your most unforgiving hour, you will be shown what to do - for it is promised. Now and forever. There are no powers so great that they can not be trumped by he who is mighty to save, no Black Succubus that has power over the warrior within.

I dreamt a succubus came to my body and began to torment - like a vagabond slug sent to remind me. There might be habits in life that seem to suit us. Might be towers built on grandiose hills far away, egotistical fortresses built for a safeguard of nothing, but there is one, as I have said before, there is one who to the Garden comes. Find him - that vagabond god within the soul waiting to unleash a storm of good upon this darkened world. And the skies will shake at your presence. The Christ will move through you like vibrant electrical surge. The powers of darkness, the succubus of the deep, the very foundation of the Earth will quake with intention. And there you are. Solid. All else will drift away. And they do. And she does. And he does. And there you are. Unmovable. Standing in the realms of kings, the kings who sit upon curbsides for thrones.

The Faux Pas Press #147: Selfless and Super

The Faux Pas Press #147

Selfless and Super

By Chambo Fresh

Adjusting myself to things as they are and being able to love others as they are? This is a super and selfless thing to do. What if those around me are not willing to do the same? Well, then they will just ideologically and socially crucify you most days. Isolated on behalf of myself. Perhaps, this is the best was to go about life. Regurgitated from Western moral ethos and an idea that the prayerful man is a good man. One who seeks vengeance as a way of life? Not in my house. But I want to drink from the well too. Last time I did not receive a piece of cake. I don't know if doing for others is the right way all the time. I can organize my life so that my actions include a robust mission statement to include them. I don't know. I guess we don't have to figure out every detail out. We don't have to crawl before any man so to speak. But we ought to live with intention.

I have to withdraw. I guess I have to do this to keep myself together. Out into the expanses of my psyche or the psyche (whatever the hell that means). Stop and take some time for the goals that are oh-so important. Nothing I have ever done seems like success. Failure is just oh-so common. And I am oh-so okay with that. Not really.

I have spoken with over 100,000 people about their experience here in mortality. That is not an exaggeration. (Remember. I may have done most of the talking. But in my mind it works. No way to confirm this. So, you'll just have to take my word on this.) Many ways to include them in the experience is to write them right here. I guess I feel good about including people but the world is a fucking vampire. Her statutes may leave no room for the expression of real desire. The ID? Well, I have met men who can not have drinks in public because of social custom. I have met men who have chosen a life of complete drunkenness and disillusion. Selfless and super because you buy a round? Write the future. Don't respond to it. Write the future using all the tools at your disposal. And, I guess, write whoever the hell you want in that future. You got to let some people drink from the well. That is what your water is for - sustain life.

The Faux Pas Press #146: Lone Wolf Extraterrestrial

The Faux Pas Press #146:

Lone Wolf Extraterrestrial

By Chambo Fresh

On this planet erroneous versions of history make their way to the front pages. And on this planet we seek the version that suits us best. But sometimes like a Lone Wolf Extraterrestrial, a mad man writes truth from bowels of his consciousness like pulp fiction memoirs, forging ahead of the wolf pack. You could call him the 'one man wolf pack' if the term were not already saturating the funny bones of the Massa Confusa. But the Mad Man writes and he writes songs to dead princes from other realms, he pricks the finger of Blue Gods sitting on high and drips blood into the drip, circulating Ambien-like ooze into the thought network in perfect ones and zeroes - magicians and fools. He paints the world beyond sensory chaos. He writes the words longing to be written and vaults himself through to the other sides. Waking consciousness in all through his work, foreboding the non-fictional section of the local Barnes and Noble. He's busy building towers to beyond. Not like biblical myths of power. Rather he is actually engaged in the ushering in of the dispensation of the fullness of times. Blockading serpentine creatures from the cinema sphere. Lone Wolf Extraterrestrial works for those who can not yet see the end of days.

Color, pigmentation, and context mean very little to the Mad Man. He treats himself to delights of the flesh without being amused, enlightened, or afraid. Songs of forgotten hierarchies vibrate through the base chakra. Chip away at the layers of smelly onion still sitting on the corporation floors, the temple rooms, and family dinner tables. Preachers run in fear of such a man because when he speaks with fury the whole of humanity listens in fear. Today, I feel like such a man and long to be worthy of his companionship as long as he can pay his own rent and receive his due payment, whatever the house owes him. Lone Wolf Extraterrestrial closes down his bar before the others. He has not room for earthy wines that sell high, He sells a product that will make them mad - a crisp, refreshing beverage that ushers the participant into a new age even. The Age of Aquarius maybe. Our brains work if we use medicinals suited for the real dysfunctions. You'll now when you reach the flaming end and find that your husks have shed and you still go on. I have prayed to many deities  - tonight I pray a blessing to the most productive character of them all - Lone Wolf Extraterestrial.

The Faux Pas Press #145

Darkness Falls At Sunrise

by

Chambo Fresh

Mystery it is how often the sunniest of days can be so dark. Darkness. In the clear of day.

I'm not sure if it is some eternal round of tests developed in a pre-earth life to see how many times we would negate the day, ignore the sun shining brightly before us. And after the many good meals we've enjoyed, how quickly we complain about the way our steak is cooked. Or jump into a comedic fit over a tawdry little issue.

I am convinced that this day is a meal that was made just for me.

And if you place yourself at the center of the universe (like me) then I assume it is gospel for you too. Could it be the fulfilling that age-old adage about assuming? But there it is like a low straight against a flush on diamonds that you probably intellectually hold against me. Mystery how sunny days can be so dark. And will I, one day, actually pass that damned test? Not get the score I was hoping for, but actually acquire the faith of mustard seed. The faith to stop my panting and conniving and just do the work of the vineyard.

Mystery how sunny days can be so dark. I'm influenced by the writings of the great Wilhelm Von Shaft. (Don't look for his writings. They don't exist. Just wanted to quote someone) He wrote, "Our appreciation of today is our appreciation for life itself. (Deep. I know.)
 
The magical part of living is in the surrender. The acceptance of the unknown. I believe it makes for a more enjoyable ride at least. The application of decisions, on a daily basis yield fruit that, perhaps, ripple through the uber-sphere, out into celestial realms maybe. Pink gaseous matter bursting in the sky. Like fabled cloud formations in a science-fiction novel signaling back to us saying, “Hello. Well done thou good and faithful servant.” Maybe there is the Christ smiling upon each intentional action. Maybe there isn’t. But what isn't gained? It is all compounded rip paid into spiritual and eventually material commission. I pray that I may find it. Just live the fucking day with an intentional surrender. Maybe accept that Superman is real. That I see his reflection in each one of us, doing unto others as he would have done unto him. Maybe acting in the margin of what is possible, maybe trumping the flush with Kings, Queens, and Aces calling out hope on man’s little dance. Priests and Priestesses crying from unseen belfries that seal the kingdoms of beyond.

Mystery how the day can look so dark. Evil exists and we must trumpet like angels in the Book of Revelations. We must hold the fabric of the universe in our actions. We must affect the future of karmic brotherhood, prevent the whole program from crashing. Mystery how the brightest, exquisite day could ever be dealt a low straight. Every day is Royal Flush material damn it.  Every day. Act and release, baby. Act and release.