Ye Olde Latin American Bus-Ride

Sweating profusely, involuntarily head-banging to the off-tempo rhythm of the chicken bus slamming into potholes, we watched the countryside fly by. As our corn-rowed bus driver swerved in and out of the oncoming lane, dominating all the nearby traffic, we watched cows chewing on 3-foot tall grass and billygoats laughing at children as they stood, baking, tied to coconut trees.

Of all the possible music one might choose to accompany such a journey, our driver had chosen to blast a Christian romance playlist. As I fearfully awaited the inevitable snapping of the bus's axles or popping of its tires, my ears were graced by the suave, unpleasantly soothing voice of a Latino hoping to "lay me down on a bed of roses."

I continued to sweat.

At each stop, peddlers made their way onto the bus hawking homemade banana bread, ice-cold bebidas, and weird-looking things with even weirder names. More than once we drove off before the hustlers had made their way off the bus, leaving them to jump in exasperation from the (slowly) moving vehicle.

The sweating intensified. Air conditioning was a pipe dream.

As the sun set on the emerald countryside, the lush greenery faded away. A canopy of stars occupied my vision instead, and as the heat wandered away towards more Eastern regions, I found myself falling asleep.

Finally, the sweating could stop.

Exploring a Sacrificial Burial Chamber (Actun Tunichil Muknal cave)

The mouth of the cave seemed to yawn, beckoning us in. Water gushed out as if the cave was salivating, eager to consume us as its next meal.

We were already soaked, but we didn't get any less wet as we plunged into the neck-deep water and pulled ourselves towards the first rocky embankment within. A few dozen feet inside and we found ourselves completely cut off from the sunlight. The world was now lit only by our headlamps - a modern twist on the ancient torches the Mayans used to light the same entrance.

The next two hours were spent dog-paddling over abysses, pushing our way upstream past boulders and stalagmites, and sliding through narrow recesses of sharp rock. One particularly threatening crevasse - known affectionately as the Neck Chopper - threatened to leave a gash on both sides of my neck if I wasn't careful.

Fortunately, I'm pretty cautious. No necks were chopped in the writing of this story. We scaled a few looming boulders, hoisted ourselves over a few long drops into boulder-strewn river water, and found ourselves staring at the ancient Mayan sacrificial chamber.

It didn't look ancient, though. Aside from the sheen of crystal and calcite that had grown over the pots, skulls, and skeletons over the last millennia-and-a-half, the place looked like it must have looked when it was still in use.

Smoke stains and carefully arranged boulders marked the spots where the Mayans had balanced bowls of incense over smoldering coals. Stone tools lay next to crushed skulls, an intimidating gesture of times hopefully long-past.

"A Mayan sacrifice had to die slow," I was informed. A series of chills - separate from the cold shivers I was trying to ignore - wracked my body as I stared down at the fleshless body below me. "Because when a person dies slow, they croak. They croak like a frog. The Mayans believe that when the frog croaks, rain comes, so they would make sure their sacrifices died slowly so as to appease the rain gods."

I pulled myself away from the eerie scene and stepped further into the menagerie of gleaming stalactites, quartz deposits, and manganese outcroppings. The whole cave glittered, and if we weren't just a mere mile beneath the sweaty surface of Belize, you could have fooled me into thinking that it was made of ice.

Suddenly, the entire cave became a movie theater.

The Mayans had carved the stalactites and stalagmites into seemingly irrelevant shapes. Peculiar, and obviously not natural, but serving no discernible purpose - until one shines a light onto them.

The result is that perfectly hewn shadows erupt onto the walls of the cave, moving and dancing with the light. The Mayans would use torchlight and fire to project shadows throughout the entire cave, producing rhythmic depictions of sacrifice, journeys to temples, and ritual movements.

As I looked up, I saw the shadow of an elder holding two axes pummelling the face of a victim just beneath him. To the left, the shadows of three Mayan ladies bounced and bobbled as they made their way towards a massive pyramid, holding baskets above their heads.

The river roared beneath us, providing a chilling soundtrack to the violent depictions of Mayan life that were dancing along the cave walls. The melody of the soundtrack was orchestrated by someone banging on a fallen stalagmite. The different spires of the stalagmite had been shaped and formed by the Mayans in such a way that each part plays a different musical note, and I had my first taste of authentic Mayan music.

The shadows were uncanny, the music was timeless, and the ingenuity of Mayan creativity made a serious impression on me. I was in a fully immersive, Imax-sized movie theater, echoing with surround-sound that had all been made with nothing but stone tools and an unmatched affinity for natural material.

The movie stopped as soon as it started, and we moved on. Along the way we saw skeletons that had lain still for more than a thousand years, bound in the same positions that they were sacrificed in. Bundles of bones and skulls lay in holes surrounded by fire pits and broken pots.

We turned back towards the cave entrance, though it was shielded by two kilometers of solid rock. This time, though, the river was on our side. We swam, stumbled, and banged elbows on rocks as the river propelled us back towards the sunlight. At times, the eroded rock was so smooth and slippery that we could slide down it like an ancient Mayan waterslide.

When the sun found our eyes, we all took a deep breath. We were glad to have made it out of the sacrificial chamber. It was obvious that not everyone who entered the cave had come back out.

The Tale of Squiggles' Thoughts

Squiggles was a man who had a great deal of trouble thinking. His train of thought would careen off the track before it even left the station. If Squiggles' thoughts jumped off a boat into a lake, they'd bypass the water and get stuck in the mud beneath.

Conveniently, that was where Squiggles now found himself: sitting on a dock at the edge of a small lake, his legs dipped into the water.

Here, he pondered things. Many things. An absurd amount of things, really, considering that he never drew any conclusions from any of them. Nay, he was not even aware of them: within the torrent of his mind, a hundred discombobulated thoughts struggled for the seat of his awareness, and yet none could ever grab hold of the steering wheel.

It was as it always was.

Squiggles, of course, was aware of none of this. His thoughts generally stayed on the back burner of his mind, where they were frivolously being evaporated into the ether.

At the moment, his focus was certainly not on his thoughts. It was on the sand and dirt swirling around his feet as he kicked about the lake bottom, wiggling his toes in a bemused stupor.

As he continued wiggling, a huge, bald-headed man approached and sat down next to him. A string of wooden beads hung 'round his neck, and the sun reflected dutifully off his shiny, bald head. His eyes glistened with an inner smile that spoke truer than the broad grin he wore on his face.

He hiked up the hem of a silken, orange robe as he dipped his feet into the water next to Squiggles.

Squiggles, of course, noticed none of this. He was watching the storm of sand he had kicked up from the lake bottom,  However, when a third foot probed its way into the swarm of dirt and dust he'd created underwater, and then a fourth, he was quite taken aback.

"There's a lot going on in there," the man rumbled.

Squiggles looked down at the muddled waters he'd created. "I guess so."

"Not down there," the hulking bald man replied, pointing a finger at Squiggles' forehead, "in here."

Squiggles gave a nervous laugh. "I mean, not really... I mean, most of the time I hardly think at all. Y'know?"

The man grinned and leaned back, letting his palms sink into the beach sand.

"Not thinking at all?" he murmured. "Must be nice."

"I don't know, I guess. I mean, I don't really think about what I'm thinking, y'know?"

"Then," replied the round man, "how can you be so sure that you're not thinking?"

Squiggles gave pause. "I'd just know. Wouldn't I? I mean, I'm speaking these thoughts."

The orange-robed man barked a laugh. "There are a great many people who speak without thinking, my boy."

"I guess so."

The man reached out a fleshy hand and rested it atop the brown scraggles of Squiggles' hair. "Behold."

Squiggles was suddenly bombarded by such an overwhelming array of inconnected irrelevance that the world in front of him lost its shape. The lake was assailed by thoughts of the evening's dinner, anxieties over the weird smile he gave the girl when she held open the door for him, musings about his an infinitesimally small place in the universe, memories about his old dog that died when he was twelve...

Squiggles gave a great cough as if he was expelling lake water from his lungs. The cacophony of thoughts ceased.

"What was that?" he gasped.

"That, my friend, was your mind. Those are the thoughts that you carry with you everywhere, every day. You just don't pay attention."

Squiggles was massaging his temples, gazing across the lake through squinted eyes.

"So... where are they now?"

The bald man pointed at the water. Squiggles had ceased waving his feet and the water had become crystal clear. He could now see all the way to the lake bottom, where the sand had settled.

"They are still there, like the sand that has fallen back to its place at the bottom of this lake. You have been looking through muddy waters this whole time, friend.  Now that the glass is polished, it is your duty to keep the windows clean."

The man smiled, and Squiggles saw for the first time the lines around his eyes. This man had lived a lot of years, smiled a lot of smiles. He waved and turned away, leaving footprints on the wet beach as he walked.

Squiggles looked down at the clear water and began, again, to stir the sand with his feet.

Power of Will & Thought

It occurs to me that the New Age clamoring towards the spiritual may not be the most effective way to achieve harmony on our humble planet.

Many of the meditational practices for which we strive were developed in the Orient, many thousands of years ago. These practices were fantastic for the time that they were developed, and can certainly still be useful today. However, it becomes apparent that new techniques and tools for psycho-spiritual advancement are necessary given the developments that have occurred in the last millennia, and particularly in the last century.

Trying to adapt a practice for the 20th century that is solely based upon ancient Eastern traditions is like trying to jam a square peg into a round hole. Don't get me wrong - practicing mindfulness, clearing the mind, and working with Chi can be invaluable tools - but it's becoming increasingly obvious that we must develop other faculties in order to engage with the nuances of modern life.

Of these faculties, willpower and the power of thought are of paramount importance.

Meditation without willpower can create passivity or indifference and can lead to the "none of this really matters, since it's all an illusion" syndrome. One achieves a passive and equanimous state of mind, believing themselves to have reached 'the goal,' and proceeds to sever their proactive engagement with the rest of society.

The world is increasingly coming to be a reflection of human thought: technology, society, warfare, space travel, and many more things are, by and large, manifestations of human thoughts and ideas. If we do not exercise our mental faculties to keep up with the increasing demands of a society which itself has emerged from the seed of human thought, then that society will leave us behind.

Life without the clarity and strength of thought can lead to diversion, confusion, and disillusionment.

Strengthening the power of individual thought allows for us to produce or to grasp ideas without the befuddlement of judgments, illusions, and bias. Strengthening the power of will allows us to work with these ideas and bring them into being as a part of physical reality.

Thirdly - and this is something which Eastern spiritual traditions have advocated for millennia, which is just as relevant (if not more so) today - one must exercise the faculty of love, for if one exercises either willpower or thoughtpower without forethought to love, their deeds may become tainted and impure.

However, exercising the faculty of Love on its own would be folly. This is what many New Age practices propose, preferring to focus solely on "love and light." Yet this is precisely where they fail, because without recognizing the Will or the Mind, Love can fall short.

Exercising love without willpower can become an entrapment, encouraging people to sacrifice their passions or purpose so that they can remain comfortably soothed in the blanket of love. Exercising love without clear thought can lead to misguided compassions and enabling of the self or others.

It is only as we learn to develop our power of will, clarity of thought, and freedom of love that we can bring about the changes that this world and our fellow humans are in need of.

Emotions, Mental Processes & The Elements

I noticed there seems to be some correspondences between different emotional & mental processes and the 5 elements.

For example, whenever I became angry last night (which was very often) I became increasingly aware of an aggravated element of fire, which makes sense. Fire seems to also be associated with passion, lust, etc.

By focusing on the primary element instead of the feeling/thought itself I found I was able to actually soothe the anger without reacting to it.

Expanding further I also came to realize that air often governs my mental process. I'm a vata, so I'm naturally imbalanced in the elements of air and ether, and my mind is always racing. When I can counterbalance air and ether with something more earthy and grounding, it's easier to slow the thought process.

Water seems to be related to an intuitive flowstate; earth to solid thoughts which are hard to adjust or reconsider, as well as to objective awareness.

Anyone have similar experiences and/or have any resources related to how the elements interact with our thought processes?

Should We Observe Natural Law?

Observance of natural law.

Natural law is brutal and often seems unfair, though it's clearly just a demonstration of heredity and education contributing to a drive to survive. If a parent passes on good genes and educates their offspring well, then they are more likely to survive in the natural world to further pass on this knowledge and genetic information.

Over time, this creates a strong bloodline, leading consistently to offspring which are more educated and genetically superior to their competition.

So to what degree should humanity recognize natural law? We seem to pretend that nature is something other than ourselves. Depending on our origins, this may or may not be the case.

There seem to be both a 'light' and  'dark' perspective for consideration, here.

The light perspective would liken us to dogs. Dogs have been entirely domesticated by humans and have traded their freedom for food and shelter. All they have to do is be dogs - expressing gratitude and love for the gifts that we provide them.

Are humans like dogs? Domesticated by our Creator, having sacrificed our freedom for the gifts of this entity as we express gratitude and love towards them and their subjects? Having chosen to expend our Free Will in the service of the Creator in exchange for safety and self-assurance?

The dark perspective would pit people like the animals in a slaughterhouse.

We believe that we are free for much of our lives, interacting with other 'sheeple' in a realm where our free will can only be exercised to a certain limit. Regardless of what we think or do, we are imprisoned in a society that marginalizes us, and where the knowledge of our true origin is restricted.

Evidence suggests that humanity has been genetically tampered with millennia ago, that certain genes are deactivated, and that we may never be allowed to experience our full capacity as humans - much like an animal bred for slaughter will never reap the benefits of having a strong and powerful bloodline and good parents or enjoy the freedom of living in nature.

Are we like sheep, being kept stupid and ignorant while being worked for the purpose of a dark creator?

Or have our genes simply remained inactive because we are yet to arrive at an evolutionary point at which we can actually utilize these latent abilities?

One might consider the current leadership status of the world when answering this. The owners of the banking systems rely heavily on natural law, believing that survival of the fittest is the only way to survive.

In example, they are immensely dedicated to the pruning, strengthening, and maintenance of their bloodlines. They are willing to gain resources and power at the expense of others, given that it benefits their own bloodlines. Their capacities for empathy and compassion may be developed, but only in regard to their own families. They tend to view the other as either a threat or a resource to be assimilated.

This is scarcely different than what we see in nature.

If humans truly ARE a part of nature, then one would expect that this is the way in which we should all be behaving.

In fact, altruism and selflessness seem to be an entirely human concept. Nowhere in nature will you see species acting in a selfless or altruistic manner unless it benefits their survival directly. If humans ARE a part of nature, then where did this concept - which doesn't serve the individual or their bloodline - arise from?

Selflessness involves an individual sacrificing their own personal resources to provide for another. In an evolutionary sense, this is sheer stupidity. In nature, one's resources are used to help further their own survival and that of their descendants. Anything other than this directly threatens the survival of the individual and the family.

However, at one point, humans decided that acting in an altruistic basis is a great aspect of what 'being human' is. It became true that the expression gratitude, the recognition of humanity as a Unity instead of a Separation. Instinct becomes replaced by intuition.

Despite the fact that many of us are still raised in an environment and put through a school system that suggests survival of the fittest is still heavily at play.

The question, I suppose, could only be answered by determining who or what are creator was and what purpose we are supposed to fulfill. Are we here to unite as humans, to provide a secure, purified vessel within which the Divine can reside to experience its Creation? Or are we here to fulfill a function similar to livestock, so that our creators and masters can profit from the sweat off of our backs as we provide a harvest of material and energetic resources?

Or is the entirety of existence just a big joke played on its denizens to invoke existential confusion?

Breaking Down the Walls

I'm definitely aware of the difference between intellectually understanding an emotional issue and actually integrating that understanding beyond the mind into the mind-body interface.

The real work comes (for me) from doing enough internal work to crack open the hard shell around my heart to actually allow these insights to penetrate on an emotional level. There is a very distinct feeling to this, one that's not altogether pleasant (and would be better described as difficult and unnerving) but one that certainly draws on experience beyond the conceptual or theoretical.

It begins with a physical sensation of breaking apart or breaking down some hard exterior shell which surrounds my heart. This shell, or 'wall' seems to be some sort of defense mechanism I have in place that prevents me from easily acknowledging these problems (which I would guess is where the term 'breaking down the walls' comes from).

After the wall's broken down, I tend to feel very exposed and vulnerable, even when I'm just in my own company. This period is generally the only time that these insights are able to penetrate deeply into my heart/emotional body/whatever you want to call it. Once they penetrate, there's an initial feeling of sharpness - almost some sort of pain as the new belief structure moves into the heart and prepares to take the place of the other one. This is usually followed by a sensation of loss as the old belief is evicted but before the new one settles in.

Finally there's a great sensation of warmth that generally sparks in the heart center. This spreads further through the body and eventually makes its way to the brain where I can become cognizant of the emotional changes that have been made.

I've only had issues serious enough to require me to perform this type of treatment about 3 or 4 times, but each time the treatment has been quite comprehensive. Meaning that the issues - which are generally long-standing and have affected me for a decade or more - are completely understood, beliefs recognized and replaced, attitudes adjusted, and behaviors modified.

This process usually takes between 3 days to 2 weeks and is certainly deep and transformational, though it may not be understood to be so in the same manner in which you are used to.