...But this is THE PAGE:

GOD'S PAGE

Come and help me contain it!

---

In the Hebrew kabbalah.info/" TITLE="THE site for Kabbalah!" TARGET="_new">Kabbalah, EN SOF is the Absolute ALL...
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...and the Absolute ALL is reached through the Ecstasy of CREATION... and this below is its Absolutely Maddening Approach... Be patient and bear with me this spiel of freeword awakening::::you'll be rewarded, I'm sure: Word is Magic, LogoV is Life!
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www.astarx.bookcrossing.com/---/702519" TARGET="_new">The extraordinary experience of ecstasy --- intense, overwhelming, indescribable---is recorded at every time in history and in every place on the globe. In times past, Joan of Arc had such an experience before leading her army into battle: it produced success. St. Paul was knocked off his horse by a flash of light: he became another man, a great man. Jesus apparently had at least two such experiences--at the time of his temptation and on Mount Tabor; the Buddha and Mohammed began their religious preaching after such interludes; the shamans of the Indian tribes of the Central Plains and the dancers of Bali go into mystic trances; Thomas Aquinas, just 700 years ago, described his life work as "straw" after an intense ecstatic experience; Abraham Lincoln may have had an intense mystical experience between the death of his son and the signing of the Emancipation Proclamation; the French philosopher Blaise Pascal converted to Catholicism after such an experience; G.K. Chesterton describes an ecstatic trance in front of a toy-shop; and so on and so forth until today. All great people had ecstasy and...created.

Do normal, everyday people have ecstasy? Yes, sure, but perhaps they do not create much.

The difference may be between "passive" ecstasy and active "creative ecstasy".

But wherever the place and whatever the trigger and whoever the person, there always runs through the accounts of such interludes certain common themes---joy, light, peace, fire, warmth, unity, certainty, confidence, rebirth. Easterner and Westerner, saint and sinner, man and woman, young person and old, all seem to report a virtually identical experience---intense, overpowering joy which seems literally to lift them out of themselves (in some instances the ecstatics think they can actually see themselves from the outside).

Such profoundly sceptical writers as Karl Mannheim, Sigmund Freud and Bertrand Russell have commented on the existence of the "oceanic" feelings with wonder and perplexity. The best known study of ecstasy is still The Varieties of Religious Experience by William James. He characterizes such experiences as "ineffable" (defying expression), "noetic" (providing overwhelming experience of understanding), "transient" (lasting but a short time, although the "afterglow" may persist a lifetime) and "passive" (the person feels "grasped" by some sort of superior power).

Ecstasy, in the www.astarx.bookcrossing.com/---/706730" TITLE="view the Creative Path!" TARGET="_new">Creative Formulation, is an "altered state of consciousness" that produces a peculiar feeling, which we call a sensation of eternity, a feeling as of something limitless, unbounded, something oceanic, engendering a wave of peace and joy as time stands still. In my conception, such a state then produces a "creation", an expression of the Self that others perceive as enlightened thus share its vibrating energy in a psychic communion with the "creator".

And THIS ecstasy is open to all, oh yeah: YOU find the force, the power of the ecstatic interlude in yourself and...BANG!
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Creative Ecstasy is reached through the Six-Step-Path and, once reached, must be shared with the Other (i.e., all the people who wish to be enlightened and creative) in words and inception. There is a "creation". I repeat, there is a CREATION!

CREATIVE Ecstasy is a noetic experience (cf. above James' definition, 'providing an overwhelming experience of understanding') and will always produce:

• a feeling of deep and profound peace

• a certainty that all things will work out for the good

• a sense of your own need to contribute to others

• a conviction that love is at the centre of everything

• a sense of joy and laughter

• an experience of great emotional intensity

• a great increase in your understanding and knowledge

• a sense of unity of everything and your part in it

• a sense of a new life and living in a new psychical dimension

• a sense of tremendous personal expansion

• a sensation of warmth or fire

• a sense that all universe is alive

• your creation!

There is something antic about creating, although the enterprise be serious. And there is a matching antic spirit that goes with writing about it, for if ever there were a silent process it is the creative one. Antic and serious and silent. Yet there is good reason to inquire about creativity, a reason beyond practicality, for practicality is not a reason but a justification after the fact. The reason is the ancient search of the humanist for the excellence of man: the next creative act may bring man to a new Universe....

The artist, the writer, and to a new degree the scientist....create or they seek to create, and this in itself endows the process with energy, power. The creative enterprise is produced via an effective state of altered consciousness ---- a superconsciousness --- that engenders the great spark of creativeness. The state of superconsciousness is achieved through meditation and the attainment of ecstasy, that noetic creative ecstasy necessary to fire up creation.

Following the www.astarx.bookcrossing.com/---/715128" TITLE="check now the FIRST STEP!">Six-Steps-Path and other appropriate guidance, the meditator goes through successive moments of awareness and clarity of perception, gradually reaching the peak state and thus the superconsciousness of ecstasy. With this altered state, the meditator may experience:

• the vision of a brilliant light or luminous form;
• rapturous feelings that cause goose flesh, tremor in the limbs, the sensation of levitation, and other attributes of rapture;
• tranquillity in mind and body, making them light, plastic, and wieldy;
• feelings of belonging , accompanied by joyous confidence in the virtues of meditation and the desire to advise friends and relatives to practice it;
• vigour in meditating, with a steady energy neither too lax nor too tense;
• sublime happiness suffusing the meditator's body, an unprecedented bliss that seems never-ending and motivates the meditator to tell others of this extraordinary experience;
• quick and clear perception of each moment of awareness and one's own creative capability
• a sudden spark of creative realization, engendering a mental projection of the future creation
• a subtle attachment to the Light of Creativeness, and pleasure in its contemplation.

Ecstatic interludes are glorious when they happen, and they are critically important to those who have them, but they are disconcerting too, disruptive, disturbing --- therefore, we ought to share these interludes with the whole community (i.e., kindred spirits) in order to find support and strength, while simultaneously suffusing the others with the Light of the "afterglow" and, finally, their achieved creation. To cope with the intensity of creative ecstasy requires a fair amount of ego strength and support from those around you. So, share! Your ecstasy may change your life for ever: make it a communing event. Make it an ecstatic communion of minds!

Hey, make it our ecstasy!

Make it the perfect ecstasy!!! www.astarx.bookcrossing.com/---/702519" TARGET="_new">SHARE IT!

Around you the invisible. But your sight sees.
The eye is replaced by the sight.
Ah, to perceive, to perceive the infinite.

A sound--uttered by whom?---and then nothing.
A word---written by whom?--and then blank.
To listen to this nothingness. To read this blankness.

To be tied by nothing but a flutter of wings.
Infidelity.
From the very moment thought is transparent and projects no shadow,
neither sky nor earth could detain it.

No things, but a luminescence in the void. Meaning is a continuous creation, out of nothing and returning to nothingness. If it is not evanescent it is not alive. Everything is symbolic, is transitory; is unstable. The consolidation of meaning makes idols; established meanings have turned to stone.

Meaning is in the play, or interplay, of light. As in schizophrenia, all things lose their boundaries, become luminescent with many-coloured significances. No things, but an enlightenment, an aura effect. Am farbigen Abglanz haben wir das Leben. An indirect reflection; or refraction; broken light, or enigma.

Creative Ecstasy: the enigmatic form. Enigmatic form is living form; like life, a phosphorescence; an invitation to the dance; a temptation, or irritation. No satisfying solutions; nothing to rest in; nothing to weigh us down. My Self and its implication of meaning into the enigma. The Self and the meaning of ecstasy, the meaning of creative genius, noetic neoteric of Self.

Meaning therefore is not in things but in between; in the luminescence, the interplay; in the interconnections; at the intersections, at the crossroads. Meaning is transitional as it is transitory; in the puns or bridges, the correspondence, the illumination and symbolism of my Creation.

In the luminescence is flux, enlightenment is fusion, subverting the boundaries between things; all things flow. Panta rei. Meaning is new, or not at all; a new creation, or not at all; poetry or not at all. The newness is the metaphor, or nonsense----saying one thing and meaning another. It is the legal fiction, which liberates from the letter of the law and from the tyranny of literal meaning.

The newness of Ecstatic Creativeness and its symbolism. Symbolism is polymorphous communion, the translation of all of our senses into one another, the interplay between the senses, the metaphor, the free translation, the random association of Logos. The separation of the senses, their mutual isolation, is sensuality, is seXual organization, and is bondage to the tyranny of one partial impulse, leading to the absolute and exclusive concentration of the life of the body in the representative person.

我是 I<---ME---MYSELF---EGO---EU---IO---JE---ICH---YO--->I 私はある
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Knowledge is carnal knowledge, a copulation of subject and object, making these one. Mind and Body.

Knowledge is carnal knowledge. A subterranean passage between mind and body underlies all analogy; no word is metaphysical without its first being physical; and the body that is the measure of all things is sexual. All metaphors are sexual---to paraphrase Ferenczi: "A penis in every convex object and a vagina in every concave one."

Psychical and physical. My returning refrain. Poetic and prosaic.
We go on Pindaric flights and on the toilet bowl in the same day.
Mind and Body. And Creation is born. Convex and concave simultaneously.

Speech resexualized.

Goethe:
Sei das Wort die Braut genannt
Bräutigam der Geist.

(Let the Word be named the bride, and the Spirit the bridegroom)

The tongue made potent again, out of his mouth goeth a sharp sword. The spermatic word, the word as seed; the Sower Soweth The Word.

Annunciations, messages, messengers, angels, having intercourse with the daughters of men, making pregnant through the ear; angel or birds, winged words or doves of the spirit.

Sexual potency, linguistic power, abolished at Babel and restored in my Self. In Self, tongues of fire, a flame in the shape of a Universal Mind, a firebird or phoenix, a luminescent fiery speech. No lexical Onanism, but expressive copulation. Creativeness, indeed.

Thought and speech resexualized into my Self. Symbolic correspondence is a marriage. The things beneath are related to the things above as Man and Wife. Bring them together in a new conjunction, a lyrical couplet or psychical copulation. No Onanism, I affirm. No waste of seed, but creation from Logos copulation.

Intercourse is what goes on in the sentence. In every sentence the little word "is" is the copula, the penis or bridge; in every sentence magically, with a word, making the two one flesh. The little word "is" is the hallmark of Eros, even as Freud said: the little word "no" is the hallmark of Death. Every sentence is dialectics, an act of love.

ecstasy= love = mind communion = creative ecstasy
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The rest is silence; after the last judgement, the silence.

Enter the Self and know how to be silent.

How to be silent. In a dialectical view: silence and speech, these two are one. Apollonius of Tyana said silence is Logos. And words do not spoil the silence for those who have ears to hear what is left unsaid. Apollonius said, do not wonder that I know all languages since I know what men do not say. And Freud says, "He that has eyes to see and ears to hear may convince himself that no mortal man can keep a secret. If his lips are silent, he chatters with his finger-tips; betrayal oozes out of him at every pore. And thus the task of making conscious the most hidden recesses of the mind is one which it is quite possible to accomplish."

And Freud knows that even if there were no censor, we would still have symbolism. The doctrine of the unconscious, properly understood, is a doctrine of the falseness of all words, taken literally, at their face value, at the level of consciousness. The true psychic reality, which is the unconscious, cannot ever be put into words, cannot ever be translated from the silence into words. The unconscious is and will remain forever ineffable: therein, precisely, lies the distinction between unconscious and pre-conscious.

To reconnect consciousness with the unconscious, to make consciousness symbolical, is to reconnect words with silence; to let the silence in. If consciousness is all words and no silence, the unconscious remains unconscious.

Speech, as symbolism, points beyond itself to the silence, to the word within the word, the language buried in language; the universal language of mind communion, the true Esperanto; the primordial language, from before the Flood or the Tower of Babel; lost yet ready to hand, perfect for all time; present in all our words, unspoken. The A into the X. The X contained in A. The full significance, the etymology, the subterranean original meaning.

Be creative -- Be ecstatic -- Be ecstatically creative!

The word within the word, the unheard melody, the spirit ditties of no tone. The spiritualization of the senses, a restoration of the unsullied sense-activity of man in paradise. The word in ecstasy, the void in creation, the ecstasy of nothingness, the creative word.

Get the nothingness back into words. The aim is words with nothing to them; words that point beyond themselves rather then to themselves; transparencies, translucencies, empty words. An ultimate Word constricted as a Black Hole, with infinite gravity, attracting time light and speech, corresponding to the void in things.

Look into this message, not at the text but through it; see in it, between the lines; see in it language as lace, black on white; or white on black, as in the sky at night, or in the space on which our dreams are traced. Taste the images...

My ecstasy. That I give unto you, to share.
Have YOUR ecstasy now. You can do it, come on ---------- follow the Path!
Create your expressive Object, the image of your Self.

Through the word of words, to dissolve the solid meanings, and find the true significance. To dissipate the empty gravity and enter the total gravity, to let the light not on but in. To illuminate and ventilate, let words be filled with Light and Air: Spirit of Self. Let there be Light, let there be Self-Fulfilment, superconsciousness through creative ecstasy, the spiritual, noetic, pneumatic, airy body, filled with nothing but ecstasy; takes flight, for heaven, for the Universe. A pregnant emptiness. Object-loss, world-loss, is the precondition for all creation. Creation is in or out of the void; ex nihilo.

Creation is out of nothing: the unreal awakens me out of the sleep of reality. Imagination is a better artist than imitation; for where one craves only what she has seen, the other craves what she has not seen.

Creation out of nothing. Creation as a mind's surprise. Creation in Self. Time and space are integrated into that ultimate unity of the A and the X.

Fire is not fire until it burns us. It is the deceiving image of fire.
Creation is not Creation until it has shined into our Mind's heart. It is the essential image of Self:


I am the wind that blows o'er the sea;
I am the wave of the deep;
I am the bull of seven battles;
I am the eagle on the rock;
I am the tear of the sun;
I am the fairest of plants;
I am a boar for courage;
I am a salmon in the water;
I am a lake in the plain;
I am the word of knowledge;
I am the head of the battle-dealing spear;
I am the god who fashions fire in the head.
I am the thought.
(Amarigen, a poet of the Goidelic Celts)

When you expand and become large in yourself, and large in your soul, and know that you are a large entity that reaches out a long way....you have to reach for Self, you have to make the first reach...and if you reach out, you can tap in to the universal spirit...to the great spirit...to the divine ground of all being...to the one Mind in which all of this is an illusion and a dream, but for its higher reality, that of your Self.
The Spirit of Creation....

The Spirit....
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My ecstasy on Spirit
::::::::::::::::::::::::::
I come into being as a slight thickening at the end of a long thread. Cells proliferate, become an eXcrescence, and assume the shape of a man. The end of the thread now lies buried within, shielded, inviolate. My task is to bear it forward, pass it on. I flourish for a moment, achieve a bit of singing and dancing, a few memories I would carve on stone, then I wither, twist out of shape. The end of the thread lies now in my children, extends back through me, unbroken, unfathomable into the past. Numberless thickenings have appeared on it, have flourished and have fallen away as I now fall away. Nothing remains but the germ-line. What changes to produce new structures as life evolves is not the momentary excrescence but the hereditary arrangements within the thread.

But I am the carrier of spirit. I know not how nor why nor where. On my shoulders, in my eyes, in anguished hands through unclear realm, into future unknown, unknowable, and in continual creation, I bear its full weight. Depends it on me utterly, yet I know it not. I inch it forward with each beat of heart, give it the work of hand, of mind. I falter, pass it on to my children, lay out my bones, fall away, am lost, forgotten. Spirit passes on, enlarged, enriched, stranger, and complex.

I am being used. Should not I know in whose service? To whom, to what, give I unwitting loyalty? What is this quest? Beyond that which I have what could I want? What is spirit?

Spirit rises, matter falls. Spirit reaches like a flame, a leap of a dancer. Out of the void it creates form like a god, is god. Spirit was from the start, though even that beginning may have been an ending of some earlier start. If I look back far enough I arrive at a primal mist wherein spirit is but a restlessness of atoms, a trembling of something there that will not stay in stillness and in cold.

我是 I<---ME---MYSELF---EGO---EU---IO---JE---ICH---YO--->I 私はある

My eternal restlessness, my ineffable fire.

Matter would have the universe a uniform dispersion, motionless, complete. Spirit would have an earth, a heaven and a hell, whirl and conflict, an incandescent sun to drive away the dark, to illuminate good and evil, would have thought, memory, desire, would build a stairway of forms increasing in complexity, inclusiveness, to a heaven ever receding above, changing always in configuration, becoming when reached but the way to more distant heavens, the last...but there is no last, for spirit tends upward without end, wanders, spirals, dips, but tends ever upward, ruthlessly using lower forms to create higher forms, moving toward ever greater inwardness, consciousness, spontaneity, to an ever greater freedom: ----superconsciousness.

Particles become animate. Spirit leaps aside from matter which tugs forever to pull down, to make it still. Minute creatures writhe in warm oceans. Ever more compleX become the tiny forms which bear for a moment a questing spirit. They come together, touch; spirit is beginning to create love. They touch, something passes. They die, die, and die, endlessly. Who shall know the spawnings in the rivers of my past? Who shall count the waltzing grunion on the shores of ancient seas? Who shall hear the unheard poundings of that surf? Who will mourn the rabbits of the plains, the furry tides of lemmings? They die, die, die, but have touched, and something passes. Spirit leaps away, creates new bodies, endlessly, ever more complex vessels to bear spirit forward, pass it on enlarged to those who follow.

Virus becomes bacteria, becomes algae, becomes fern. Thrust of spirit cracks stone, drives up the balsam fir. Amoeba reaches out soft blunt arms in ceaseless motion to find the world, to know it better, to bring it in, growing larger, questing further, ever more capacious of spirit. Anemone becomes squid, becomes fish; wiggling becomes swimming, becomes crawling; fish becomes slug, becomes lizard; crawling becomes walking, becomes running, becomes flying. Living things reach out to each other, spirit leaps between. Tropism becomes scent, becomes fascination, becomes lust, becomes love. Lizard to fox to monkey to man, in a look, in a word, we come together, touch, die, serve spirit without knowing, carry it forward, pass it on. Ever more winged this spirit, ever greater its leaps. The wings of Self, the spirit of Communion, the leaps of Love.

Self = Spirit
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Viewed closely, the path of Creative Ecstasy is seen to meander, is a glisten of snail's way in night forest; but from a height minor turnings merge into steadiness of course. Man has reached a ledge from which to look back. For thousand of years the view is clear, and beyond, though a haze, for thousand more, we still see quite a bit. The horizon is millions of years behind us. Beyond the vagrant turnings of our last march stretches a www.astarx.bookcrossing.com/---/715272" TITLE="go to the SIX STEPS PATH!">shining path across that vast expanse running straight. Man did not begin it nor will he end it, but makes it now, finds the passes, cuts the channels. Whose way is it we so further? Not man's; for there's our first footprint. Not life's; for there's still the path when life was not yet.

Self is the Spirit, and spirit is the traveller, passes now through the realm of man. We did not create spirit, we just named it Self in in-spiration. We are but the bearers. We take it up from unmourned and forgotten forms, carry it through our span, will pass it on, enlarged to those who follow. Self is the voyager, man is the vessel.

From primal mist of matter to spiralled galaxies and clockwork solar systems, from molten rock to an earth of air and land and water, from heaviness to lightness to life, sensation to perception, memory to consciousness---man now holds a mirror, spirit sees itself in Self. Within the river currents turn back, eddies whirl. The river itself falters, disappears, emerges, moves on. The general course is the growth of form, increasing awareness, matter to mind to consciousness. The harmony of man and nature is to be found in continuing this journey along its ancient course toward greater freedom and higher awareness. Towards the superconsciousness of Creative Ecstasy.

In the deserts of the heart
Let the healing fountain start,
In the prison of his days
Teach the free man how to praise.
Auden, 1939
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En-Sof