He sees the things that he knows are his
He sees the bright and hollow sky
He sees the city sleep at night
He sees the stars are out tonight
And all of it is yours and mine
And all of it is yours and mine
So let’s ride and ride and ride and ride

Iggy Pop – The Passenger

I’m feeling particularly Finnish tonight. “A typical Finnish guy” is also the description I’ve heard quite often lately, and why not: as far as I know, my whole family is of Finnish descend up to the ninth generation or so, and I myself was born and bred in the Northern plains. I had lived my whole life within the Finnish borders until last August, when I chose to follow the Mystery and took a ride to Canada.

Now that it’s been six months in exile, so to speak, I think I’ve reached some sort of a critical point. One obvious sign of this is that I booked a one-way flight back to Finland. By then it’ll be altogether nine consecutive months I’ve been away. I’m coming home.

But what is home? What is “my country”, if there’s such? Shouldn’t I be a Sovereign, one able to establish his kingdom wherever he might set his foot on?

Well, yes and no. Living here I’ve yet again noticed how setting oneself outside the comfort zone, or the familiar environment, can transform the self — and living in a foreign part of the world will, for sure, show you how much you are affected by the culture in which you were brought up. I know I’m a freaking Finn when I try to make that tiny piece of a traditional rye bread last for one week!

But these traits go deeper than just one’s taste of bread. My Self has been forever molded by the more subtle currents prevailing in Finland. The heritage that lingers there in the nature, in the language, and in the very blood of the people is thoroughly magical. I feel myself alien in this American soil.¹ It has given me much, but it can’t be my home. I guess it’s a bit like learning a new language. You can have fun with it, you can use expressions that have sprung from a different perspective on life, and it will prove itself useful in mundane life — but you can never call it your own language.

There will be a day when I face the darkness utterly alone, without the bounds of land or culture. But until then, much of what I am will be defined by where I live and even more by what I call my home.

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[1] Not entirely unlike the “imported” gods feel themselves alienated in Neil Gaiman’s excellent novel American Gods.

Fill with mingled cream and amber
I will drain that glass again.
Such hilarious visions clamber
Through the chamber of my brain —
Quaintest thoughts — queerest fancies
Come to life and fade away;
What care I how time advances?
I am drinking ale today.

Edgar Allan Poe: Lines on Ale

]]> http://hiidenkirnu.wordpress.com/2009/10/27/on-life-beyond-death-pt-ii/feed/ 0 hiidenkirnu http://hiidenkirnu.wordpress.com/2009/10/17/on-life-beyond-death/ http://hiidenkirnu.wordpress.com/2009/10/17/on-life-beyond-death/#comments Sat, 17 Oct 2009 03:40:26 +0000 hiidenkirnu http://hiidenkirnu.wordpress.com/?p=209 ]]> …or, rather, the inequivalence of life and existence.

Roughly one and a half year ago, in a middle of a chilly night of April, I was lying on my back in a Swedish cemetery. Not dead was I, yet death was the very thing that drove me there. That night was sort of a beginning to certain considerations I would keep coming back to over and over again, and in a way, rather straightforward continuation to other things that had happened earlier. Now, we are talking about life, death and existence within the bounds of these two.

Ever since dumping the pantheistic mysticism I held on to some extent during my early teens, my attitude towards death and dying has been quite indifferent. Not that I haven’t cared if I lived or died, but that there’s no point in making a big fuzz about the transition. Yet, death is vital. It bounds and defines life as we understand it, even to the point that it’s absurd to speak about “life after death” (zombie movies notwithstanding). How could we, who are bound to the flesh so tightly that the whole modern culture is based on the material (you know, the quality of your life is valued by the things you have), ever understand an immaterial existence and, indeed, the possibility of being without living? In this sense, I quote, it is often a lot more useful to go in depths wondering if there’s life before death, rather than after it. So go on then, indulgence with life and remember to drink one for the good ol’ Anton!

Nevertheless, sooner or later you will hit those cemetery gates. What was it then, that I found in the Swedish cemetery on that night? An axiom old, or rather timeless: the biological life and the individual existence are not equal. Your very being, however attached to the old body in this natural world, is something that may thrive even when the carnal part of your human manifestation fails. Just like the ageless bear of the northern tribes,¹ you are essentially a non-natural being. As the saying goes: “we are not humans having a spiritual experience, we are spiritual beings having a human experience”.² There is something “beyond” the natural world – and Quite A Something it is!

Now don’t get me wrong. This is not a matter of faith or silly gospels, or even sillier ideas about heavens and hells. It is a thought reasoned, tested and, indeed, experienced. So don’t take just my word for it. Go find it yourself, and you might learn a thing or two on the way that will help you become something you never even dreamed of.

◊

[1] More on the bear later on.
[2] Often attributed to Pierre Teilhard de Chardin.

— to what you have been, to what you are and to what you will be;

— to everything that is hidden and waiting for you to find it;

— to the truths that shall be uncovered;

— to the good days and to the bad days, for without one the other would be meaningless;

— to the remembrance and not-forgetting;

— to the ones that have helped you along the path;

— to the blood that runs in your veins and to the air that whirls in your lungs;

— to the pulse that beats throughout the universe;

— to the One that IS within you and beyond you.

◊ Xepera-Xeper-Xeperu! ◊

“There are no shortcuts. Whatever modality you choose, you’d better be prepared to put in the work. If you apply hard work, consistency, and perseverance to your plan, you will achieve results, regardless of the tools you choose.”

NG p. 14

“Realize that ‘impossible’ is only a word. The only impossible feats in this world are those that you accept. I refuse to believe in the word.”

NG p. 51

“Hard work has a magical way of erasing any so-called genetic limitations.”

NG p. 88

“You must view life as an open book. You have the ability to write your own future. Don’t let anyone put a ceiling on your ability. With hard work and perseverance, you can achieve anything. You may fail several times, but if you stick with it, the time will come when you do succeed.”

NG p. 88

“To develop this ability, you need to bust your ass. There are no secrets. Hard work and consistency will be your best weapons.”

NG p. 158

“Simple plans produce results if you are willing to put in the work. With diligence and determination, you will improve and succeed. Without these attributes, no program will help you.”

NG p. 196

“The tools that you choose are nothing more than a means to an end. Equipment will not change the equation for success, as the most important variable will always be you.“

FTC, p. 3

“You must focus on the big picture. Prepare for the long haul. Champions are not developed overnight. It takes years of hard work and a relentless desire to improve. Do not seek instant gratification, as you will find yourself traveling down a never-ending road of disappointment and failure.”

FTC, p. 43

“The effort that you put forth is up to you.”

FTC, p. 86

“You don’t need anything but your own refusal to accept anything but your best.”

FTC, p. 88

“How bad do you want it?”

Sources: Never Gymless & Full Throttle Conditioning

Some of the things I’ve been pondering lately can be found in the excellent piece of a musical genius called Tears of the Dragon by Bruce Dickinson. If you don’t have a clue how it sounds or need a reminder, spend a moment with this YouTube clip. It’s of a poor quality, but should be enough to give the point. The song is a strange mixture of sorrow and joy, as everything worthy in life seems to be.

Tears of the Dragon is all about Initiation, for me at least. Facing the deep waters of your Self is indeed only for the brave. Fear is always there and must be faced if one wants to get further on the path.

Every one of us has walls built around the core of her Self, walls that hinder the Becoming and protect the Self from breaking apart at the same time. For the pressure of existence is too much to bear if one lays her Self naked into the world as it is. The Self must be both hardened and caressed before this can be done, and it requires a great deal of strength, time and patience. Blood, sweat and tears – but also smile, laugh and love to an equal amount.

The problem is that before we realize this, we have been exposed to the world and we’ve constructed perhaps more hindering walls than those that protect. It’s a tricky business to know which of them need to be torn down and which should stand untouched or be polished.

The waters are ever deep, vast to infinity. The great sorrow is knowing that whatever we do, we are never finished. But something calls us forward, to continue the journey and seek the mysteries beneath the waves. It is our curse and our blessing and the Heart of the game we call Initiation.

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[1] For the rooms of consciousness, see Robert S. de Ropp’s The Master Game. More of that book will be written in this blog at some point in the near future.

The most beautiful and deepest experience a man can have is the sense of the mysterious. It is the underlying principle of religion as well as all serious endeavor in art and science. He who never had this experience seems to me, if not dead, then at least blind. To sense that behind anything that can be experienced there is a something that our mind cannot grasp and whose beauty and sublimity reaches us only indirectly and as a feeble reflection, this is religiousness.

Albert Einstein: My Credo