Talking Shit

Let me say, first of all, without any hesitation whatsoever, fuck you. You who think that I need to, or will, sit passively before you and be dazzled into a stupor by your mumbo jumbo. You who think that I am so asleep that if you use words strange enough, words big enough, or abstract enough, I will submissively assume that I am the one who does not understand your higher teaching rather than standing up and saying,
"Eh, this cocksucker is full of shit. He hasn’t said anything at all. "
All of you new age douche bag peddlers of righteous and loving blah blah and blah can go and suck the baphomet's big erect cock, although I’m sure you wouldn’t. I would though, I would do that in an instant. What I will not however do is stand by and watch as you shear holes in the spirits of your followers the way moths eat through old unprotected gowns hanging dusty in a forgotten armoire without having my rant, without raising my fist and shouting,
"Charlatans!"
Some of you know it, and worse yet, some of you don’t know what evil magick you make with your endless dribble of love and light , your 99 days of 99 channels. Some of you recklessly think that maybe you are helping someone else or yourself by saying things which make everyone feel good, comfortable, safe, loved, and inherently beautiful. We are not as you would assert, all beings of light. We are worms, pale and filthy, crawling about the globe waiting to be gobbled up by something bigger and filthier than ourselves. To be more than a worm special efforts are required, a heavy dose of real activity. Caterpillars do not crawl around saying to themselves,
"Oh we are all lovely butterflies, such lovely dear ones, ah so beautiful and spiritual."
They eat and gather up the necessary store of energy they will need for their labors and then they begin to work and build. It is a real doing. They build. They create. They do. They construct a cocoon about themselves. It is not a metaphor. They actually build something around themselves. Within that construct which they labored their whole creepy crawly lives to erect, they begin to change, mutate, transform. They become beautiful butterflies. Not by sitting around comforting each other and saying how good and worthy and beautiful they already are. Not by having potlucks and hugging and discussing ideas. They do it by laboring away towards the end of becoming something other than what they are.
Suppose they don’t even know how things will turn out in the end. Suppose they only know that it is not good enough to go crawling about as a fat worm waiting to be eaten by something more grotesque like a big white catfish or an oompa loompa, or even a nice little birdie. Suppose that they feel in their ooey gooey green depths that they were made to be something more than they are, but they do not yet know what, so they begin to accumulate energy/ They eat. They take everything in, but not so that they may be fat caterpillars that sit around encouraging others to be fat. To take in the necessary packet of vital life force is not enough. Suppose that they feel this. Suppose that they begin to build their cocoons without ever dreaming of what will become of them after some time has passed.
They build something without knowing why they build. They build it without knowing what they are building. They build it without naming it, without encouraging others to do the same. They build it and then they find themselves within a world which they have painstakingly pieced together, and, once inside, something strange happens to them.
Suppose that it is frightening. Suppose that at some points they doubt themselves and think, my God, what have I done? I’m becoming a monster. Suppose they weep because their queer efforts have left them without their caterpillar friends. Suppose the dark within the cocoon frightens them, they feel powerless, they feel blind. Then one day they break through their world’s shell and fly away.
Do butterflies remember being caterpillars? Suppose they think it was just a crazy dream? Like that dream I had where I was human and had to listen to pasty faced bastards drone on about spiritual enlightenment without having had any practical knowledge of it. There are some buggers out there who know something, but they aren’t likely to take up hours of your life lisping about it at a social gathering after yoga class.
Let me close by saying, once again, fuck you, to all of you who steal breath and strip meaning from precious teachings, making perfectly good words unusable in impolite society by printing them all over tea bags. Fuck you who take away the power to transform by subduing and mesmerizing sleeping machines with soft voices and silver tongues. Fuck you who think you do good by sharing your wonderful ideas.
As for you, the one who is still reading this and does not feel at all offended, here is something for you to do.
Write all of the spiritual words you know and use on little strips of paper. Anything you have ever uttered or heard uttered in a conversation about God, the universe, the destiny of mankind, etc. Even and especially write the words you like, the ones you prefer to use, the ones you think mean something. For example, your list of words could be something like this:

Enlightenment
Rapture
Christ light
Satori
Cosmic convergence
Love
Peace
Hope
Prayer
Ritual
Sacrifice

And so on. Go crazy. Put them all down, the terms used by you in the past as well as in the present. Do not hesitate to include the ones that seem potent and important to you now. When you have written your words, go out and find yourself some fertilizer, compost, or pure cow shit. Select a suitable location and bury your words along with the fertilizer. Now comes the difficult part. Put all of the passion that you had associated with the ideas expressed by those words into silence. Do not use them for a month. Act as if you have taken a vow of silence which only applies to those words you buried. Avoid others that use them when possible, and even when you are in the company of those that do, keep your silence. Let them rest. For now, they have done enough.