Now and then, as a thought imperiment, I like to pretend what would kick if old school spiritual adepts were born in different events and circumstances. You know, like Jesus stepping in when robosex was the thing and everyone is set adrift on techno bliss due to being born plugged in with chip in head that modulates their consciousness, perfect. Or Moses incarnating as a poor African American whilst Pharaoh Reagan COINTELPRO’d the hell out of him by dropping crack on the jects to keep the chosen suppressed and prevent rebellion as well. Would he have started busting rhymes over phat beats instead as he yelled:
“Let my people go!” from the depths of his abdomen with a Forty Five in his grip and tatts inked on his flesh? You’ve got to wonder, eh? There are the times and what they create and we, generally, are reffing dudes from way back when when the sketch was so different… In todays text I’ll share my perspect of what I think would kick if Buddha had been an Eighties jit instead. The book states his folks were rich and thus could afford to build a Matrix around him but seeing as the Game changed we’ll make them poor as hell and addicts as well. Same illusion, different confusion. Off rip he’d have felt that he didn’t fit in because of the whole Soul Ages thing and thus would have looked at the world with a “WTF?” on his lips. No sitting under a tree as he’d get warned about vagrancy as nothing in these times is free so that option is nil as everyone owns something and thus each step brings a bill as there is no more land to till or common ground as well. What next? Panhandling under a lamppost or something else? See, he would have had to go to school as there is no option to exit this form of training that teaches one to fit in.
I don’t think he’d have gelled with the curriculum as such an intellect would rebel at the thought of playing Simon Says ergo no teachers pet for him. Instead he would ask questions that were, to them, difficult as he looked around at a world filled with suffering in which children step in laced with Inner Sense that is swiftly Adulterated. Once again, a “WTF?” would cross his lips. When a boy has no options in a scene, hopeless, the streets inevitably call to them for they are filled with people who the System also rejects and among the so called untermensch he’d find some kindred spirits that also think such things. Many would probably be under the influence of something as the edge on the bottom line is as sharp as thin so I don’t think it would be a stretch to guess he may ingest a hallucinogen or spliff at some point in his adventuring in the urban terrain and what it brings.
After all, that is exactly what was in the Bon tradition before they excised it from the rec, officially, and this movement went underground instead. Actually, thats a fascinating blip, my friend, as they have some really dark practices designed to elicit who knows what states of consciousness and, in that respect, the modern dish the serve to the plebs is the equivalent of Taco Bell to a Mexican. Look into it. Its third eye opening, for certain, as there are a lot of links with the Aghoris as well. Anywhen, Budes is that dude so he’d most certainly have a clue about the code of the Matrix and now he’s had a taste of Gnosis those training wheels would be ditched and he’d sit and quietly reflect instead. Maybe a job as a security guard or something else isolated and menial so he could get congenial with the shadows depth? Yes, I suspect that fits pretty well. Or it may be the opposite in which he’s the meet and greet type to truly see whats happening with the peeps as he check their barometer of misery before finding some place else where he is alone, by his Self, to test the sketch of this outer realm and what his heart says, within:
“There is something very wrong here and its the people that are the problem. To be specific, how they think. But, how to convince them to glimpse different when everyone else simply accepts the script they are handed?”. His mind runs to his conversations with addicts as well as his own parents who were lost in the sauce of chasing the dragon for a hit and thus had very little time for him, whilst developing. He didn’t mind this as it afforded him a liberty that most cannot purchase in this realm and thus he ran, wild and free, as he tore up the streets and pushed every single limit to see which ones were solid as the others bent. One doesn’t simply wake up and start shattering rules on a whim after decades of fitting in – The Spirit is within from the moment you step in. Time has passed since then and the boy is now a man who can be found, frequent, under a rusty street lamp where he sits for, in the bricks, the nights are the time which is quiet and, paradoxically, noisy as well. But, its a different type of flex and the people know him well ergo they don’t pay him no mind and leave him to what he does then at the place he has chosen which is off the main strip and thus as close to isolation as one can get in an urban environment. Now and then a passer-by may comment:
“He always was a curious one, that Budes” they said as, night after night, he’d sit in quiet communion with something they could neither hear nor comprehend. “Why not in the house?” you may question. Well, the reason is because his parents are addicts and thus he cannot sanctify the environment nor will they let him rest without incessant requests but the paradox of the pavement is he, by force of repetition, carved himself a niche in the din that both nature and the people respect due to his dedicated intent and a little help from beyond this realm. He slept very little and ate even less. Soon he was withering away due to his neglect of the flesh but in a place filled to the gills with zombie like skeletons nobody really noticed and those who did cared even less. Then it hits him. A natural rush of dimethyltriptamine pours in from his incessant sojourns to the shadows depth and he gains his first glimpse of enlightenment. From that moment on, everything is different. A lot about a little starts to make perfect sense and he starts to intuit an outline of the sketch in which those who are blessed steal from those with less and call it good business whilst the rest strive to get ahead because that is what the voice in their head tells them will bring the solution to the confusion called being human in this realm.
Further and further, the young man delves in and people start to note a glow that surrounds him. Quick to help, he chips in whenever anyone has a problem and thus begins to carve a legend as the man who generates solutions to the problems of living. Plus he has a very calm presence which draws the masses to him as he waxes lyrical. A regular viewer starts livestreaming these things and his rambling observations start generating a slow but steadily increasing following who cannot help but listen in as what he says hit the nail on the head, ten times out of ten, and thus they fill the comment sections whilst sharing his vids with their friends. The man, himself, is unaffected by all of this as its simply a side effect of the immense empathy that swells within. He warns them not to idolize him for he is identical to them in scope but differs only in application:
“The way I found fits me but it may not be for thee so take what works, leave the rest and place not a single thing above your Self as you are the most potent force in this realm that makes all possible”.
Some find his takes curious. Others state he’s blasphemous, in extremis. A few opine that a cult he is building but others counter with the fact that he is selling nothing and only sharing opinions. The larger world starts to take notice and teams are sent to observe and document. Soon he is greeted with an article here and there before the mainstream press dive in and pick up on his message and how he came to be like this. He tells them:
“The problem is, as far as I can tell, you lot don’t think. You simply lumber under the illusion of an identity you invest in, from one life to the next. That is innerstandable because, for many, their lives are quite pleasant or they have distractions as well but, no disrespect to my parents, I sure as hell didn’t want to be like them or whatever someone else said so what were the options then?”.
A Harvard educated man with full credentials and letters that say that and this as some type of spiritual specialist is interviewing him and having his mind blown back in increments as here is someone with an obvious link to the numinous that he, personally, has only studied from a distance via refs of ancient texts and other guys that were notarized as being capable to comprehend the shadows depth and bring enlightenment back for the rest with what they said, did and lived. He asks a simple question:
“Why is there so much suffering?“.
This elicits a grin, almost imperceptible, as he says:
“Because the Game of Souls has you, my friend”.
He outlines an image in which time is cyclical and as it ebbs and shifts the denizens of this realm dip and ascend from solid gold consciousness to one as base as lead:
“They are trapped within this because they believe the voice in their head and what it says even though, ten out of ten, it never, ever delivers on it promises. Worse still is they live to death with desires unmet that keep them pinned and popping in to do the same again. Madness, isn’t it?”.
“What is the solution then?”.
“Disregard everything. Acquire Gnosis. If what people said back when worked ten out of ten then the world would not be like this, yes?”.
He likes this not one bit as the man is too accustomed to his tenured profession and what it brings ergo he packs up his kit and ups sticks, writes his article and then pushes the practices out of mind and goes back to doing what he did – reading anothers lyrics. Its too late though. The fuse is lit. Something is bound to happen as there is a single spark of Gnosis shining in the darkness of artificed illuminance. Many are called but only the chosen choose themselves and dare to look within because the main difference between the time the real deal stepped in and this imaginary retelling is that we live in climes of wholesale ignorance where religion is a business which has co-opted a worldwide model based on pimps that would be faced with the problem of this Self initiated adept making a mockery of what they sell as the one and only true solution.
What happens next? Is it open season on the dude from the bricks who keeps his hair clipped as he can’t afford a barbers appointment or would they try and co-opt him to their own brand of marketing and hail him as the second coming for which they have been awaiting? I don’t know. I’ll let you tell. They tried to do just this with Krishnamurti but he rejected their script and let rip with both barrels instead… Its just one of things I think and felt like sharing to offer you a glimpse of what kicks when you create your own entertainment in your head as Moses the rapper sketch really made me grin as he was such a problem for the System and it highlights, real well, how there has always been an invisible element of suppression that the prophets railed against as they set off on their quest for personal betterment which had the side effect of uplifting the rest but what is most interesting is that, much like any genre of music you can imagine, there is a peak then steady dip before what is left is a caricature, at best, or burnt out hollow shell of the true grit that pushed the pen and dropped the dopest of lyrics to uplift the Spirits of man wearing flesh with tales of street Gnosis and what kicks when one Knows the Ledge, lives one the edge and gives not a single F about the forces aligned against them for what pours through his veins and is displayed on the stage is not of this realm but a message from the Prime who is, at present, the true source of your awareness that you, currently, Thunk is John of House Smith or some other type of BS that is, frankly, laughable as it is akin to accepting a note bearing promise when, in reality, you are the ruler of a kingdom so immense that your very presence in this realm makes the rest possible for no planet would spin without a Soul, observing.
I wonder about these type of things. Truly I do.
Would Buddha have found enlightenment in the modern age?
I have no doubt he would do such things because these skills are part and parcel of when one steps in so the era is what it is – window dressing – and the ones well adjusted know not to look past the Overton whereas the natural mystic rebels against all of this and, come what will, places his chips on Self as he spins the wheel of time with a sole intent:
Get free or thrive trying. Modern Buddha would still become enlightened and looked mighty stylish whilst doing it as no matter what the script, at present, he carries that Prime resonance in his essence which is why even the pavement denizens afford him respect and those who stand against can’t help but offer as well because the Game may change but the Soul remains the same…
I mean, lets pretend Mohamed steps in when man has colonized the farthest planets and wears a disposable shell of freshly printed flesh that his consciousness is uploaded within and thus they are, in a way, immortal beings who never think such things as death are possible as they’re locked in a closed loop of creation that caters to every whim. How in the heck would that adventure have went then? Would tech be the graven idols they worshipped that he smashed to bits as he asked the hard questions whilst standing among the fragments with revelation in his grip as testament to the true sketch? That one I’ll let you ponder, my friend.
Till we meet again
