A New Year's Message from the Boys (Video)

I don't usually channel messages from the Gods, or messages from the Dogs. I only channel my Self. But this year, the Boys from the Kingdom of the Fur need to share a message with you.





Happy New Year from the boys. It's a whole new vibe, a whole new earth. No fifth dimension. No quantum consciousness. Just good old soil, water, wind and fire. No "Oneness" anymore. No "Twoness" either. Just wholeness, the all-pervading Friendship. No "non-duality" either. Aren't you getting tired of That? Just I and Thou, a single radiance self-dazzled in twin mirrors of pure awareness. 

No more clinging to “now." The past and future are the bouquet of presence. No ideologies anymore, just persons. Neither "left" nor "right," neither "liberal" nor "conservative," only the dance. 

Here’s something else we no longer need: spiritual teachers. We learn from falling snow, how it whirls. How a crimson berry holds the whole summer on a frosty morning. Our teacher is the patient hunger of finches waiting their turn at the feeder. We follow 
threads of milkweed bursting into the breeze. The way your face becomes lovelier with age, half-lit, half-shadowed. How crumbs arrange themselves in a sunbeam on the wooden table, buds swell on a plum twig, breath disappears on a windowpane. We rediscover what's been thrown away, the ordinary, glowing with suchness. The light of the one who sees in what is seen.

There's no need to be a rose-scented new-age angel in order to meditate, or visit an ashram in order to meet the Guru.  The Christ dwells in your chest, between breathing. 

No need to sit full lotus and pretend your knees don't hurt. Here's the heresy: there's no one "else" for you to be. The fundamental dis-ease that cripples our culture is the toxic compulsion to be someone better than you are. That's over now. The sign of progress is that you're not as perfect today as you were yesterday.


Don't be a fraction trying to reach the number One. You’re already One. Call off the search. The beginning and end of spiritual practice is to rest your mind in your own broken heart. Align with your jagged edges, that’s how you get polished. Roar out your rough unholy joy. Make room for wrinkles and tears. When you quit seeking the eternal, you'll get washed in the river of time. Your spine a tuning fork, your heart a singing bowl, you’ll never know how many trillions of creatures gather to your hum. This earth doesn't need another Gandhi or Jesus: it needs You. 

The new paradigm? This breath. Enlightenment is more like falling than ascending, more like collapsing than getting it all together. Stop clinging to the raft of someone else’s teaching. Become the sea by sinking into your own wave, even if it's a hot-mess. This is stillness. Stumble into the dance of your own chaos. This is peace.


I did not learn this from the Gods. I learned it from the Dogs.



Photo: The boys, Emerson and Finn


Comments