Kundalini Splendor

Buddha's Dogs

I'm at a day-long meditation retreat, eight hours of watching
      my mind with my mind,
and I already fell asleep twice and nearly fell out of my chair,
      and it's not even noon yet.

In the morning session, I learned to count my thoughts, ten in
      one minute, and the longest
was to leave and go to San Anselmo and shop, then find an
      outdoor cafe and order a glass

of Sancerre, smoked trout with roasted potatoes and baby
      carrots and a bowl of gazpacho.
But I stayed and learned to name my thoughts, so far they are:
      wanting, wanting, wanting,

wanting, wanting, wanting, wanting, wanting, judgment,
      sadness. Don't identify with your
thoughts, the teacher says, you are not your personality, not your
      ego-identification,

then he bangs the gong for lunch. Whoever, whatever I am is
      given instruction
in the walking meditation and the eating meditation and walks
      outside with the other

meditators, and we wobble across the lake like The Night of the
      Living Dead.
I meditate slowly, falling over a few times because I kept my
      foot in the air too long,

towards a bench, sit slowly down, and slowly eat my sandwich,
      noticing the bread,
(sourdough), noticing the taste, (tuna, sourdough), noticing
      the smell, (sourdough, tuna),

thanking the sourdough, the tuna, the ocean, the boat, the
      fisherman, the field, the grain,
the farmer, the Saran Wrap that kept this food fresh for this
      body made of food and desire

and the hope of getting through the rest of this day without
      dying of boredom.
Sun then cloud then sun. I notice a maple leaf on my sandwich.
      It seems awfully large.

Slowly brushing it away, I feel so sad I can hardly stand it, so I
      name my thoughts; they are:
sadness about my mother, judgment about my father, wanting
      the child I never had.

I notice I've been chasing the same thoughts like dogs around
      the same park most of my life,
notice the leaf tumbling gold to the grass. The gong sounds,
      and back in the hall.

I decide to try lying down meditation, and let myself sleep. The
      Buddha in my dream is me,
surrounded by dogs wagging their tails, licking my hands.
      I wake up

for the forgiveness meditation, the teacher saying, never put
      anyone out of your heart,
and the heart opens and knows it won't last and will have to
      open again and again,

chasing those dogs around and around in the sun then cloud
      then sun.

- Susan Browne

(I love this poem.  It reminds us not to take ourselves too seriously.)

(picture from internet)
_______________________________________________

Mark Your Calendar: Our next Lectio Poetica will be Sunday, May 15

Strive melodiously to make it to our next monthly Sunday morning mini-retreat on May 15, from 9:30-11:30 a.m. in Longmont.

Meanwhile, visit our web site for more information: lectio.jayevalusek.com.

Startled by Beauty

“Believe us, they say, it is a serious thing just to be alive on this fresh morning in this broken world.” —Mary Oliver

Walking along the little creek near McIntosh Lake this morning, the air brisk, sky dense with clouds, head down, brow heavy with rumination—I jerked upright suddenly, startled by golden sparks of lightning flashing across my field of vision.

No, I wasn’t having a seizure. A flock of goldfinches chased each other from tree to tree, pausing briefly, little bursts of color, zipping here and there. Such beauty! All thought ceased. I became all eye, all ear, all here.

A smile appeared on my lips, light breaking through the gloom.

And just as unexpectedly, a great blue heron rose from behind the brush beside the creek, its huge wings whisking and beating the silent air. Moving upstream to a less disturbing spot to fish. The smile spread ear to ear.

As I continued, at least a dozen goldfinches, high in the newly budding branches, set up a “musical battle,” as Mary Oliver describes it in her poem “Invitation” (Red Bird, 2008), striving “melodiously . . . for sheer delight and gratitude.” I’d never seen so many in one place before.

What were they saying? “It is a serious thing / just to be alive / on this fresh morning / in this broken world.” Yes, I thought. It is.

Their song, their dazzling flight is an invitation, the poet adds: “Do not walk by / without pausing / to attend to this / rather ridiculous performance. / It could mean something. / It could mean everything.” Yes, I thought. It does.

Awake now, I strolled on down to the edge of the lake, reeds rising, filled with red-winged blackbirds, calling to one another. Out on the waves, a cold breeze rippling the water, the slender black-and-white periscopes of Western Grebes, newly arrived, turned this way and that. Disappearing stem to stern beneath the lake’s green surface, torpedoing unsuspecting fish.

Shortly, it began to snow. Light flakes, a shower of petals from the dark sky.

So much beauty, I thought. Just waiting out the door. Flashing, flitting, fishing and falling beneath the heavy clouds of cognition. Calling us back to nature. To our true nature—not separate from, but an intimate part of the earth itself, our true home.

“Nature is our home,” writes Piero Ferrucci in Beauty and the Soul (2009). “To go back to it is to get in touch again with ourselves, to rediscover what we are made of.”

This morning, for a few minutes along the creek and by the lakeside, I was made of air and cloud, birdsong and branches, green buds and damp soil. I had wings, and roots.

I understood what an 11th century Chinese official meant when he posted this inscription on his wall, to remind himself daily: “Heaven is my father and earth is my mother. And even such a small creature as I finds an intimate place in its midst. That which extends throughout the universe, I regard as my body. And that which directs the universe, I regard as my nature. All things are my companion, and all people are my brothers and sisters.” (Earth Prayers, E. Roberts and E. Amidon, eds., 1991)

This, I thought once again, is the religion and poetry of nature. Startled by beauty, I returned home. Glad to be alive on this fresh morning in this broken world.

For now. If only for now.

—Jay E. Valusek

(picture by N. M. Rai)

To hear this interview on YouTube, go to:

The Empire Files: "This  Ship is Sinking"  Lawrence Wilkerson

Published on Dec 11, 2015

Abby Martin interviews retired U.S. Army Colonel Lawrence Wilkerson, former national security advisor to the Reagan administration, who spent years as an assistant to Secretary of State Colin Powell during both Bush administrations. Today, he is honest about the unfixable corruption inside the establishment and the corporate interests driving foreign policy.

Hear a rare insider's view of what interests are behind U.S. wars, the manipulation of intelligence, the intertwining of the military and corporate world, and why the U.S. Empire is doomed. http://multimedia.telesurtv.net/v/the...

Note: I cannot recommend this interview highly enough.  In it, Wilkerson  presents a brilliant analysis of what has gone wrong with America's foreign and domestic policies and how the collusion between big business and the military are driving us ever deeper into constant war and unrestrained arms spending.

T. S. Eliot says in one of his poems, "Humankind can bear only a little reality."  This interview offers a large dose of reality, and lets us know the truth about the powers that are in control of our destiny.  Many of us are already somewhat informed on these issues in a general way, but his is the most compelling in depth presentation I have encountered.

Because of his past service in the military and government, he has seen the problems close at hand.  He knows whereof he speaks––ultimately, he resigned from the governnment when he could bear the truth that was being revealed no longer.  Now he is speaking out in a personal revelation of what he learned (and sometimes participated in) that drove him out.

I am posting this interview on this site because I firmly believe that our world is collapsing and rebuilding from within all at the same time.  Thus I am optimistic, even as evidence of crisis mounts on many fronts.

The day Love was illumined
By Abu-Said Abil-Kheir
(967 - 1049)

English version by Vraje Abrasion
(from Nobody Son of Nobody)

The day Love was illumined,
Lovers learned from You how to burn, Beloved.

The flame was set by the Friend
to give the moth a gate to enter.

Love is a gift from the Beloved to the Lover.

Although this poet lived some 200 years before Rumi, his work focuses on many of the same themes, for these are common to Sufi poets for many generations.  This is a poem about the Lover and the Beloved and the "flame" of longing experienced in the mystical journey.  This heat is often felt by those undergoing Kundalini awakening, which is itself a highly mystical process, often following the stages as described by mystics of all eras.
Ultimately the lover becomes One with the Beloved, consumed in the flame of Love and thus she loses all sense of a separate self, for she is now Nobody Son of Nobody.

Abu-Said was the first Sufi poet to use the language and images of secular love to describe the sacred mystical process.

As I read more about the relationship of Kundalini and migraines, I discovered that there is in fact something called "pre-orgasm" which can trigger a migraine.  This state can arouse excitement and Kundalini itself is exciting when it involves  rapture.  Although it does not lead to orgasm (at least, not for me), it definitely has an erotic tone which I have often thought of as similar to feelings before but not during sex (don't do this any more, anyway).

This excitement in fact stems from increased levels of dopamine and serotonin in the brain.  A nurse friend suggested that it might even increase adrenalin levels in the system.
Thus, when the excitement subsides and we "come down" to normal, we can no longer sustain the high energies.

I think that this explanation accounts for why I had a migraine next day after the intense pleasure I experienced at the Mozart concert I described before.  Although I now often feel gentle bliss when doing my morning energy practice, I do not have headaches afterward.  I now believe my latest episode of migraine was indeed brought on by the extreme rapture I felt during the concert.

So, I will have to be more cautious in this area in future.  Darn!

But I am grateful to have found an explanation that makes sense.

P.S.  When I had called about another matter, I also told the nurse about the "Mozart Effect" and the headache that followed, and she recognized what rapture was and was not shocked when I spoke of Kundalini.  She said her father also often responded with rapture and tears listening to classical music, though he did not call it Kundalini.  I was astonished that she was so accepting of my description, for often we are afraid to mention Kundalini to medics of any kind, since they will sometimes decide we suffer from some sort of mental or psychological disorder.

John Gray published the above book several years ago.  Here is an excerpt from that book.  Here he is speaking about romance between heterosexual couples.  However, I think this description might also apply to the love between human and the Beloved Within (Kundalini).  It may well arise.  

In addition, I wonder if the increase in both  dopamine and serotonin then are often followed by a "letdown," as these chemicals are now diminished in the brain.  This same sadness and even migraines can occur after intercourse.

After I experienced intense rapture recently while I wad listening to Mozart, I had a terrible migraine next day (after 30 years free of such) and similar headaches continued (in lesser form) for many days.

This link with a physical cause in no way invalidates the connection with the divine that is part of Kundalini bliss.  The divine does not operate in a vacuum, but goes within to embody this mystical union.  The ecstasy of union is not a "nothing but" experience even though it has a physical basis.

Here is the excerpt from Gray's book:


The best way to increase romance and ecstasy in a relationship is trying new things. I don’t mean in the bedroom, although that can certainly help. I mean new activities, planning dates to new places, enjoying new conversations or new experiences together as a couple.

It’s easier to bring back the newness in a relationship when you understand the brain chemicals associated with falling in love. One of the things that happen when we fall in love is the dopamine levels in your brain skyrocket. Dopamine creates the feelings of pleasure. Another thing that happens is serotonin levels rise in your brain. Serotonin creates the feelings of optimism and helps you think positive.

So the newness of a relationship stimulates the feelings of pleasure (dopamine) and optimism (serotonin). When you have a balanced production of dopamine and serotonin, your brain creates GABA. GABA makes you feel happy and ecstatic. These are the three brain chemicals that get created when we are experiencing romance and ecstasy in a relationship: dopamine, serotonin and GABA.

Certainly alcohol, MDMA and other drugs can cause you to feel ecstasy and romantic, but these are not good for your brain, body or relationship. Fortunately, there are natural supplements on the market today that can help stimulate these brain chemicals and cause you to feel more romantic without the negative side effects. Watch my video to hear what products will help you and your partner feel more romantic this Friday night.

John Bray, Men are from Mars, Women are from Venus

DESPAIR
takes us in when we have nowhere else to go; when we feel the heart cannot break anymore, when our world or our loved ones disappear, when we feel we cannot be loved or do not deserve to be loved, when our God disappoints, or when our body is carrying profound pain in a way that does not seem to go away.

Despair is a haven with its own temporary form of beauty and of self compassion, it is the invitation we accept when we want to remove ourselves from hurt. Despair is a last protection. To disappear through despair, is to seek a temporary but necessary illusion, a place where we hope nothing can ever find us in the same way again.

Despair is a necessary and seasonal state of repair, a temporary healing absence, an internal physiological and psychological winter when our previous forms of participation in the world take a rest; it is a loss of horizon, it is the place we go when we do not want to be found in the same way anymore. We give up hope when certain particular wishes are no longer able to come true and despair is the time in which we both endure and heal, even when we have not yet found the new form of hope.

Despair is strangely, the last bastion of hope; the wish being, that if we cannot be found in the old way we cannot ever be touched or hurt in that way again. Despair is the sweet but illusory abstraction of leaving the body while still inhabiting it, so we can stop the body from feeling anymore. Despair is the place we go when we no longer want to make a home in the world and where we feel, with a beautifully cruel form of satisfaction, that we may never have deserved that home in the first place. Despair, strangely, has its own sense of achievement, and despair, even more strangely, needs despair to keep it alive.

Despair turns to depression and abstraction when we try to make it stay beyond its appointed season and start to shape our identity around its frozen disappointments. But despair can only stay beyond its appointed time through the forced artificiality of created distance, by abstracting ourselves from bodily feeling, by trapping ourselves in the disappointed mind, by convincing ourselves that the seasons have stopped and can never turn again, and perhaps, most simply and importantly, by refusing to let the body breathe by its self, fully and deeply. Despair is kept alive by freezing our sense of time and the rhythms of time; when we no longer feel imprisoned by time, and when the season is allowed to turn, despair cannot survive.

To keep despair alive we have to abstract and immobilize our bodies, our faculties of hearing, touch and smell, and keep the surrounding springtime of the world at a distance. Despair needs a certain tending, a reinforcing, and isolation, but the body left to itself will breathe, the ears will hear the first birdsong of morning or catch the leaves being touched by the wind in the trees, and the wind will blow away even the grayest cloud; will move even the most immovable season; the heart will continue to beat and the world, we realize, will never stop or go away.

The antidote to despair is not to be found in the brave attempt to cheer ourselves up with happy abstracts, but in paying a profound and courageous attention to the body and the breath, independent of our imprisoning thoughts and stories, even strangely, in paying attention to despair itself, and the way we hold it, and which we realize, was never ours to own and to hold in the first place. To see and experience despair fully in our body is to begin to see it as a necessary, seasonal visitation, and the first step in letting it have its own life, neither holding it nor moving it on before its time.

We take the first steps out of despair by taking on its full weight and coming fully to ground in our wish not to be here. We let our bodies and we let our world breathe again. In that place, strangely, despair cannot do anything but change into something else, into some other season, as it was meant to do, from the beginning.

Despair is a difficult, beautiful necessary, a binding understanding between human beings caught in a fierce and difficult world where half of our experience is mediated by loss, but it is a season, a wave form passing through the body, not a prison surrounding us. A season left to itself will always move, however slowly, under its own patience, power and volition.

Refusing to despair about despair itself, we can let despair have its own natural life and take a first step onto the foundational ground of human compassion, the ability to see and understand and touch and even speak, the heartfelt grief of another.
...

David Whyte

‘DESPAIR’ From CONSOLATIONS:
The Solace, Nourishment and Underlying Meaning of Everyday Words

from Dorothy:

Indeed, despair, like rapture, is seasonal.  Both come and go, now here, now dissolved in their opposite.  However, those of us inclined to chronic depression and despair may discover through the awakening of the inner bliss of Kundalini, that depression is not a necessary state of being, that there are other and more abundant possibilities in our lives, and that there is, in fact, a "bright side" as well as a shadow available to us.

Even the saints had spells of depression, when they felt that God no longer loved them and that they had, in some way, failed the test of being worthy recipients of the divine embrace.

He desired me so I came close.

No one can near God unless he has
prepared a bed for
  you.

A thousand souls hear his call every
second,
but most every one then looks into their
  life's mirror and
says, "I am not worthy to leave this
sadness."

When I first heard his courting song, I
   too
looked at all I had done in my life
and said,

"How can I gaze into His omnipresent
eyes?"
I spoke those words with all
my heart,

but then He sang again, a song even
sweeter,
and when I tried to shame myself once
more from his presence
God showed me His compassion and
spoke a divine truth.

I made you, dear, and all I make is
perfect.
Please come close, for I
desire
 you.

Teresa of Avila 1515-1582

(Teresa of Avila was one of the greatest mystics of all time.  For about five years she experienced rapture almost daily.  These states reveal a close correspondence with what we call Kundalini itself, at least in its purest form, when it can bring indescribable bliss.  Notice also that in this poem she uses the traditional language of lover and beloved: "He desired me"; "unless he has prepared a bed for you"; his "courting song"; "Please come close, for I/desire/you.")

The famous sculpture by Bernini in Rome depicts Teresa in ecstasy as the angel pierces her heart with his lance and she is being ravished by the divine lover:

ALLOW

Danna Faulds

There is no controlling life.
Try corralling a lightning bolt,
containing a tornado. Dam a
stream, and it will create a new
channel. Resist, and the tide
will sweep you off your feet.
Allow, and grace will carry
you to higher ground. The only
safety lies in letting it all in—
the wild with the weak; fear,
fantasies, failures and success.
When loss rips off the doors of
the heart, or sadness veils your
vision with despair, practice
becomes simply bearing the truth.
In the choice to let go of your
known way of being, the whole
world is revealed to your new eyes.

On the New Dimensions talk that I described in the previous post, Andrew Harvey spoken a riveting way about the life and work of Seymour Bernstein,  remarkable 88 year old piano teacher and composers who lives in New York City in an apartment he has occupied for some 45 years.  Seymour does more than focus on technique (though he is a demanding teacher.)  But unlike many teachers and performers today, he himself proceeds from a deep commitment  to the spiritual aspect of the music. He himself communicates with the spirits of various great composers in the past to receive inspiration and guidance. Thus his work and teaching display a sacred quality lacking in most of today's music.  Andrew has just completed a book of conversations with Seymour called:

Play Life More Beautifully: Conversations with Seymour by Andrew Harvey & Seymour Bernstein.  I recommend it highly.

Here is a fuller description of this man and the book, taken from Andrew's website:

It started with a dinner party. When 86-year-old pianist and teacher Seymour Bernstein met Ethan Hawke, international film star, the two quickly discovered they shared a common malady: stage fright. Based on his familiarity with nervousness prior to concerts, Seymour was able to provide Ethan with invaluable insight and advice. That was the beginning of a deep friendship.

Renowned spiritual scholar and activist Andrew Harvey was a fellow dinner guest that auspicious night and contributed to the decision to create a documentary about Seymour exploring his unique combination of accomplished musician, teacher, and seasoned elder. The film, Seymour: An Introduction, directed by Ethan Hawke, has received enthusiastic critical acclaim and is an inspiration to all who see it.

Seymour and Andrew’s friendship has continued to thrive with a shared curiosity and appreciation for the intersection of life and art. The trusting conversations captured in this book between these two dear friends reveal key truths about passion and creativity through an exploration of music, difficult childhoods, the friendship of animals, and journeys of the spirit.

Memories meld with philosophy, and observations with reflections, dissolving the line between teacher and pupil. With equal parts candor and generosity, Seymour and Andrew offer a master class in playing life with our fullest, most gracious selves.

About the Author

Andrew Harvey is an internationally acclaimed poet, novelist, translator, mystical scholar, and spiritual teacher. He has written and edited more than 30 books—including the best-selling titles The Hope and The Tibetan Book of Living and Dying. He has taught at Oxford University, Cornell University, Hobart and William Smith Colleges, the California Institute of Integral Studies, and the University of Creation Spirituality as well as at various spiritual centers throughout the United States. He is the founder and director of the Institute of Sacred Activism. www.andrewharvey.net

Seymour Bernstein is an American pianist, composer, and teacher. He is the subject of the documentary Seymour: An Introduction, directed by the actor Ethan Hawke. One of the most sought-after workshop leaders and piano instructors in the United States and abroad, Mr. Bernstein is also a prolific composer. His compositions range from teaching material for students of all levels to the most sophisticated concert pieces. He continues to perform as a guest artist with chamber ensembles and serves regularly on the juries of a number of international competitions. He maintains a private studio in New York City and is also an Adjunct Associate Professor of Music and Music Education at New York University. He was awarded an honorary doctorate from Shenandoah University. www.seymourbernstein.com

(what I saw from my window this morning)


I just listened to an interview by Andrew Harvey from the New Dimensions site.  It was a real blockbuster.  He spoke on several topics that were new from Andrew (such as the passion of the artist, the need for each of us to spend time alone, the need for forgiving those who have wounded us, and more.)

Andrew's great friend and mentor was Father Bede Griffith, an Anglican monk who set up an Ashram in India with the intent of founding a "Christian Yoga."  He lived a very austere life and attracted many followers.  As he neared the end of his life he had an extreme transformation in which he felt divine light pour into his head and then travel through his body all the way to his root chakra.  Even his sexual centers were reawakened.

For Bede, this was a transfiguration experience, akin to those of various saints in the past. Many of these had "sanctified bodies."  When their remains were dug up years later, they were perfectly preserved.

I believe that Bede's own transformation experience was classic Kundalini awakening, beginning with the crown and then moving down his chakras all the way to his root.  Whatever terminology you use, Kundalini itself (the great goddess of all goddesses) is the central life force, the creative energy of the universe itself.  We all carry it in its dormant form but more and more people are having spontaneous arousal of these incredible ecstatic energies within.  Kundalini is a supreme sacred experience.  It is bringing us to our next step in the evolution of the race.  It is the unexpected "wild card" that could
save our planet and our species.

But such transformation is for most of us not an easy process.   We must move ahead incrementally, slowly building bodies that can carry these new energies.  This can be a difficult and even painful process but as we move forward we are becoming the divine human that many have predicted.

Andrew has just published a book with Haye Press called "Seymour: Play Life More Beautifully."  I strongly recommend it and will discuss it in a future post.  In the meantime, listen to the interview on New Dimensions (I think it is on KGNU.)

Hi, everyone.  Finally back online.  Will start regular posting tomorrow.

In the meantime, here is one I could not resist putting up:

From the last wishes of a man who died:

"In lieu of flowers, please do not vote for Donald Trump."

THIS MUSIC OF LIGHT

Imagine a Buddha
with light around
her head.
Her ear, the one
you are sleeping in.

Her breath,
the rhythm of your sleep,
your body her sounding board.

You are the one she has come for.
Now is your moment of honey and fire.

You sit in the midst of your silence.

The world tide recedes, taking even your name.

You cry out as the light enters your heart.

Dorothy Walters
from "Unmasking the Rose: A Record of a Kundalini Initiation"
Also included in "Some Kiss We Want" (forthcoming)

After Kundalini awakening, when one is in proper alignment, music becomes a truly transcendent experience.  It no longer appears to arise from outside your body, but rather seems to emanate from within.  Indeed, your body becomes a sounding board, resonating in bliss with each note and tone.

Such was my experience recently as I listened to a live performance of Mozart's "Requiem," composed literally as he himself lay dying.  Such experiences are, of course, ineffable, but to listen is to feel that one should drop to her knees before such majesty.

This is the music I would like to leave by.

However, Kundalini is unpredictable.  Next day I did not feel well at all.  I guess that when one experiences such high frequencies, it is hard to go down to the normal range again.

Painting by Jan Elvee named "Jesus"

We Awaken in Christ's Body
by Symeon the New Theologian (949-1022)

We awaken in Christ’s body
As Christ awakens in our bodies,
And my poor hand is Christ.  He enters
My foot and is infinitely me.

I move my hand, and wonderfully
my hand becomes Christ, becomes all of Him.
I move my foot, and at once
He appears like a flash of lightning.
Do my words seem blasphemous?  Then
Open your heart to Him!

And let yourself receive the one
Who is opening to you so deeply.
For if we genuinely love Him,
we wake up inside Christ’s body

where all our body, all over,
every most hidden part of it,
is realized in joy as Him,
and He makes us, utterly real,

and everything that is hurt, everything
that seemed to us dark, harsh, shameful,
maimed, ugly, irreparably
damaged, is in Him transformed
and recognized as whole, as lovely,
and radiant in His light
we awaken as the Beloved
in every last part of our body.

The Buddha’s Two Faces

One is the face of ecstasy.
Familiar friend,
I danced before it
long ago,
felt its sweet tremors flow within.

Who would suppose an image
hanging
on the wall, ancient master,
transcendent one,
would carry
such love waves,
bring such palpable joy?

And then there is the other,
the man of compassion,
 love for the world,
caring for all
who suffer
and bow down.

How can we follow one
and not its twin,
both together complete?

Dorothy Walters

Fabulous Talk by Al Gore on Climate Change and What We are Doing About it

Al Gore has presented an amazing talk on the reality of climate change and all the changes we are making to overcome it through alternative sources of energy.  Not to be missed if you want to get up to date on this issue.  He is optimistic about the future!

See  Al Gore on Ted Talks––2016––Filmed February, 2016

The excerpt below from the distinguished writer Hannah Arendt seems to me to have special application to the situation we find ourselves in today.  However, I do believe that thinking can be taught through education.

We are being inundated these days with examples of people who seem incapable of analytical thought, as evidenced in the current presidential campaign.

Hannah Arendt was one of the major analysts of the causes that led to the rise and subsequent results of the Nazis in power in Europe before and during WWII.  She contended that many participated in myriad horrendous acts not because they were innately evil as such, but because of what she called "the banality of evil."  In other words, they were not evil per se but incapable of thinking about what they were participating in and so became part of a movement that led to devastation in Europe.

Here is an excerpt from Roger Berkowitz's review in the Paris Review of the film entitled
Lonely Thinking: Hannah Arendt on Film (available on Netflix)

"Although Arendt’s work follows numerous byways, one theme is clear: in modern bureaucratic societies, human evil originates from a failure not of goodness but of thinking. ... Struck by the danger of thoughtlessness, Arendt spent her life thinking about thinking. Could thinking, she asked, save us from the willingness of many, if not most, people to participate in bureaucratically regulated evil like the administrative extermination of six million Jews? Thinking, as Arendt imagines it, erects obstacles to oversimplifications, clichés, and conventions. Only thinking, Arendt argued, has the potential to remind us of our human dignity and free us to resist our servility. Such thinking, in Arendt’s view, cannot be taught: it can only be exemplified. We cannot learn thinking through catechism or study. We learn thinking only through experience, when we are inspired by those whose thinking enthralls us—when we encounter someone who stands apart from the crowd."

)

She
(for the Beloved within)

When I live in that woman,
She lives in me.

When I drink wine with that woman,
Her lips touch the glass
I drink from.

When I come home at evening,
She is the one who waits for me.

Even now,
she is brushing Her hair in front of the glass,
laying out her nightclothes,
beckons me to bed.

Dorothy Walters
from "Some Kiss We Want: Poems Selected and New" (coming soon)

JOURNEYS

(for the Beloved Within)

Some went to India and Egypt to seek the wonder.

They met the Sages, entered the pyramids, searching for the hidden treasure.

Not one to travel, I did not explore the sacred centers.

I stayed home and felt the bliss.
You and I, my darling— we made love together
for so many days,
endless nights.

Our journey ended in each other.

Dorothy Walters

This movie is about the life and times of Ram Das and Timothy Leary. The movie traces the the rise of the psychedelic movement as well as the spiritual conversion to Eastern religion of Ram Das. It depicts their close friendship through the years right up to the time of Leary's death and offers their differing thoughts about the nature and implications of death itself.

Leary spend many years in jail for his drug activities, often in solitary confinement for possession of marijuana and experiments with LSD.

Ram Das was one of the main players in bringing Eastern thought to the West. Through it all, they remained close and loving friends, Leary felt death was the end. Ram Das was convinced that consciousness continues long after death, for we are not composed of our material bodies alone
It is extremely well done––one of the best movie experiences I have had in a long time.
I myself do not do drugs, but I am convinced that Kundalini itself stimulates the drugs we already possess within, and thus can provide bliss beyond most "drug" trips. And, for me, the bliss is indeed "God moving through your body." If we can experience this now, why not after we die?