"**41. Then the bird desired exceedingly this bliss, and laying down its wings became a faun of the forest.

42. The harper also laid down his Pan-pipe, and with the human voice sang his infinite tunes.**"

Desire is like a bridge,
To want
Is so much different then to have.....

Harps are bridges as well
Ancient symbols of the harmonic
Nature of this world manifest

Most beloved of the wooded glades
is another bridge for us to travel across

This meditation reminds me of a game
I used to play
You can go up up up
The ladder
Or
Down down down the shoot.....

Desire.

I recall that the last thing Elena DeJoya ever said to me was: "...you wanted it once Robert, you might want it again someday!"

Her words sounded in my ears as a complaint, but truth was, she was simply stating fact. She was right. I did, and I did. In fact, I never stopped wanting it, I was just confused for a time about this desire; and there were other desires to contend with. I had to grow into an appreciation of desire in the broadest sense—not desire for individual things, but desire itself. This growth has brought me back. Elena, you were right, I do want it.

Who is Elena? She was my Crowley—a very scary and potent person who represented that absolute and uncompromising alignment with ones spiritual core and purpose. She freaked me out because there was no such thing as compromise in her presence. You could feel her energy as a thing that was hell bent on destroying all of your illusions—those other, smaller desires. I ran away from that. Her followers, for want of a better term, claimed she was a master. 'Master' is my term. They occasionally related her to what in the far east is termed a Buddha. I could never quite accept this, but then I never rejected it either. To sit in her presence was to feel more naked than you can imagine.

Today's selection speaks of a bird, a faun, and a harper and pan pipes, songs sung with the human voice, and a forest. My meditation cannot touch these things—nothing sticks. But desire, this I understand. These transformations are gradual liberations of this one thing! It tends to that state where nothing will be able to contain it—all ache and ecstasy. To want small things, anyone of which is absolute blindness, is to rehearse the absolute vision of pan. As such, 'all' desire is sacred.

Elena, I would gladly return and sit beneath your withering gaze—all my raw and ragged human psychology flapping in the wind.

Love and Will