GOD & RELIGION ~ From Confusion to Fusion (repost)

"DO YOU BELIEVE IN GOD?" I get asked this question quite often. But it isn't very often that the enquirer has the patience or the time to stay around for my response, which involves deconstructing the unquestioned assumptions of conceptual semantics. As far as I know nobody has ever come up with a definition of "God" acceptable to all.

The notion that the physical universe was created by an all-knowing, all-powerful, ubiquitously existing Maker is fairly common, especially among the more conservative, more traditional - and therefore less adventurous - thinkers.

When I gaze upon any object - be it a butterfly, a banana, or a blossom - it doesn't occur to me that some humanoid with deft hands wielding clever tools actually sat down at a workbench one morning and fabricated  these wondrous forms that are able to self-replicate and perpetuate their own species, ad infinitum.

I'm more inclined to admire the hidden geometries, complex architecture, and ingenious mechanisms underlying these forms which are also discernible in other forms that constitute our physical environment. A healthy appreciation for the miraculous nature of all forms ultimately leads one to focus on the mystery that is oneself.

For each of us is every bit as amazingly designed and constructed as a grasshopper or dungbeetle or seahorse or giraffe or walrus or duckbill platypus or an entire coral reef. The interlocking biochemistries and interwoven electromagnetic patterns that give rise to living forms are at once complex and simple.


Inevitably, one is compelled to marvel at the breakthrough discoveries in recent decades of the fractal nature of the holographic universe - and the curious effect that consciousness appears to have on how it evolves and mutates. It is, indeed, as cutting-edge physicists declare, "an observer-created universe."

Pioneering researchers have detected micro-macro consonances between the subatomic and the supergalactic realms, wherein the essential architecture of a single atom is echoed in that of a galaxy. This fact alone ought to qualify as a theophany that can yield an endless quantity of eureka moments - enough at any rate to induce an ecstatic vision in anyone who spontaneously comprehends the divinity and perfection of all that exists.


You could call this approach to answering the age-old question of God's existence (or otherwise) the way of the mystic-scientist. It's not dependent on culturally or genetically implanted beliefs or on faith. Rather, it is a metaconceptual gestalt formed from free associating a random sequence of sensory inputs with a variety of analogies drawn from personal experience as well as what C.G. Jung called the Collective Unconscious.

Anyone who has, by chance or design, embarked on the quest for meaning and significance must pay attention to signs, omens, auditory, visual and perceptual clues left as a legacy by thousands upon thousands of conscious thinkers who lived and died and whose insights were recorded externally in the form of artefacts - or internally through subtle alterations of the chromosomal data banks.

Each new pilgrim on the journey towards enlightenment will have a unique experience, though universal truths have a habit of recurring like strangely familiar motifs. In effect, any authentic attempt to grapple with the question of God is necessarily an individual process. Other people's narratives of "divine revelation" most certainly constitute a valuable reference - but they can never be a substitute for direct knowing, distilled from unique, personal experience.


This is why at an early age I found myself unsubscribing from prescribed belief systems passed down the generations. All the conflicting doctrines that constitute man-made religion serve merely to anesthetize the masses against the anguish of fully accepting our human limitations, in order that we might ultimately transcend them.


Religions are packaged and processed forms of accumulated mystical insight; and although there will always be precious glimmers of truth to be found in the crude ore of inherited or acquired beliefs, the unthinking and unquestioning acceptance of these dogmas is akin to condemning oneself to a lifelong diet of junk food bought off the shelves of a cosmic convenience store.

To visualize God as an eternal parent figure is to forever infantilize our apprehension of reality in simplistic terms of Good and Evil, Right and Wrong. These opposite polarities represent extreme ends of the moral spectrum; but as the sum-total of all existence, God embodies the entire spectrum of possibilities and is therefore beyond categorization and classification. In analogous terms, God is not just the Father but also the Mother and  the Child borne of their primordial union.

In ancient days when the majority of humans were illiterate, an elite corps of Scribes arose that took it upon themselves to interpret on behalf of the others what was purportedly the Word of God. This special breed of human we call the Priesthood. In India the priests established themselves as the Brahmin caste and exalted themselves above the ordinary folk.

An effective division of labor developed wherein the priestly caste collaborated with the kingly caste to form the earliest governments. The priests took on responsibility for the spiritual affairs of men while the kings ruled over the material domain, as evidenced in the political pact between the Bishop of Rome and the Emperor Constantine.

In the Book of Exodus we saw the same partnership in action with the brothers Aaron and Moses: Aaron took charge of administrative and logistical matters, while Moses played the role of divine visionary, receiving direct instructions from on high.

To this day the Mormon church classifies its membership as either of the Aaronic or the Melchizedek lineage. Those of the Aaronic Order undertake the day-to-day management of church affairs, like the raising of funds and the construction of temples; and those of the Melchizedek Order propagate the spiritual message of the founder, Joseph Smith, who received his revelation through an angelic messenger named Moroni.

What I'm waffling on about, then, is the sheer futility of identifying oneself with any particular religious doctrine. Our understanding of life matures with experience - or, at least, it ought to. It's fine to believe in Santa Claus when you're five years old and thrilled to bits at the prospect of finding a stack of prettily giftwrapped presents under the Christmas tree. However, by the time you're fifteen, you really ought to have realized that the fat guy in a red suit is actually your own dad - or some guy hired by the department store to lure kids and their parents into a ritual shopping spree.

I'm not going to denounce or deconstruct all the institutionalized religions in our midst. It's generally a waste of breath anyway. Many people cling desperately to their beliefs because they fear the bottomless abyss of uncertainty. Some will violently strike out at or even kill anyone who attempts to shatter their faith or so much as joke about it.

With some folks, loyalty to the faith into which they happened to be born can be even stronger and more fanatical than their loyalty to a favorite soccer team. Just as there are soccer hooligans at every game, you will encounter violent mobs of the religiously intoxicated. Best to stay clear of them rather than attempt to engage them in rational discourse.

These mobs constitute what you might term the bottom rung of consciousness. Everybody goes through such a phase - though many today express their fanatical urges via ardent hero-worship of a particular popstar or screen actor. Left to their own devices, most people eventually outgrow these obsessions.

I'm absolutely convinced that Malaysians of all creeds will co-exist in sweet harmony when jingoistic politicians stop stirring up the shit. Is there any way we can compel them to cease their pseudo-religious rabble-rousing? None that I can think of, short of maintaining some barbaric law like the ISA for exclusive use against those who exploit racial and religious differences for their own political advantage.

Nevertheless, I don't advocate such quick-fix methods. Censorship of any kind is anathema to me. I'm utterly convinced that when people are regularly exposed to all kinds of ideas - no matter how lunatic or extreme - they will swiftly learn to discern what's palatable and what's poisonous in the way of opinions.

So, instead, of cringing at the absurd utterances of rabid religious reactionaries, all we really have to do is ignore them. And, if they refuse to stop after a decent interval, we could simply pull the plug on them, switch off their microphones, so to speak. That harms nobody at all - and they will eventually fall silent when their voices grow hoarse from shouting at the wind.

And in that brief silence the first seeds of wisdom just might germinate.


[First posted as "Where Malaysia Is Headed (Part 5)" on 18 April 2009; reposted 14 June 2014 & 3 June 2020]

The negative karma of ill-gotten gains (updated)

My blogger friend Donplaypuks requested that I help publicize the despicable show trial wherein the Malaysian Association of Chinese Comedians aka MACC has been trying to inflict pain and confusion on Rosli Dahlan (right) - a lawyer who got sucked into this mess simply for acting as legal counsel for former CCID chief Ramli Yusoff, who happens to be former IGP Musa Hassan's arch-enemy and rival for the post of Top Cop. Din Merican has done a great job of providing a blow-by-blow account of the grotesque proceedings, having diligently attended every session at court.

There appears to be no end to the disgusting shit flying around the political arena.


Almost 13 years later, Teoh Beng Hock's untimely death while in MACC custody remains unexplained - and nobody has been charged with culpable homicide. The inquest plodded along at snail's pace, making a complete mockery of justice. And even after a Royal Commission of Inquiry was convened as a result of public pressure, it turned out to be merely a delay tactic - because not one of the MACC interrogators has been convicted of being an accessory to murder or even for gross abuse of power.

All those mysterious deaths in police custody - not only A. Kugan's which received wide publicity but so many others (including the shocking case of a 14-year-old boy shot in the back of his head in a late-night car chase) - and not a single PDRM head has rolled, only a couple of low-ranking patsies scapegoated (as usual).

The RM13 billion PKFZ scandal is in danger of being completely covered in cobwebs, now that the man who initiated an official investigation has lost his job as MCA president. True, retired warlord Ling Liong Sik is being trotted out to take the rap, but it remains to be seen how his trial proceeds. Will he bare his soul and help bring his fellow criminal conspirators to justice? It would delight me no end to see the Three Tuns audited and behind bars (instead of hanging around in pubs). You know which three Tuns I'm referring to: Mahathir, Daim and Abdullah Badawi. [Since this was written a far bigger scandal has superseded PKFZ, namely the monstrous 1MDB scam that has left a staggering national debt of more than RM42 billion. Money-laundering investigations are underway in at least 6 countries.]

After nearly 16 years, the ghost of Altantuya still haunts Putrajaya - and MACC, as to be expected, chickened out of its commitment to meeting P.I. Balasubramaniam in London. It's clear as day the trail of serious wrongdoing leads directly to Najib Razak's desk. The macabre Altantuya Affair, intimately linked as it is with the disgraceful Scorpene and Agosta submarines scandal, ought to have terminated the present corrupt regime - because they are all implicated in the cover-up.

And, of course, the entire world is still sniggering at Famous Anus jokes and asking why Anwar Ibrahim appears to have been singled out for the dubious honor of being the only Malaysian to be charged with sodomy - TWICE in 10 years! Let's not even mention the disgraceful farce that has passed for a trial - even if his surprise acquittal on 9 January 2012 was an unexpected U-turn, indicative of conflicts within Umno's top leadership.

Meanwhile the defence ministry nonchalantly carries on with the purchase of all kinds of useless and unserviceable ordnance - all at outrageously marked up prices - while RM300,000 jet engines go missing and yet another Indian gets scapegoated.

All this rampant corruption and injustice hogging the headlines leaves me speechless. What can I say (apart from Tak Boleh lah, Bolehland)?

I have friends who still earn monthly salaries working for BN-owned media (oh sure, your kids deserve the best education money can buy, so they can get well-paying jobs after they graduate with Apco Worldwide, Halliburton, or BP).

As for Vincent Tan's deal-gone-sour with Najib, frankly I don't give a shit. I have no personal bone to pick with Vincent Tan (left), even though rumors are rife that he was instrumental in financing the defection of Hee Yit Foong and the collapse of the Pakatan Rakyat state government in Perak. Just because Vincent Tan looks like a real tough hombre who drives a hard-nosed bargain doesn't mean he deserves to have his bloodline terminated (although I wouldn't protest too vigorously if Vincent and his fellow money-grubbing moguls like Rupert Murdoch swiftly became an extinct species on this planet).

3 years later a banner protesting the gold mine remains in place

Nor do I have a personal grudge against business tycoon Kam Woon Wah, erstwhile MCA secretary-general, whose son Andrew Kam Tai Yeow (left) is the guy behind the revival of the controversial Raub Australian Gold Mining Sdn Bhd (a subsidiary of London-based Peninsular Gold Ltd).

But I met some of the Bukit Koman residents spearheading the campaign against Andrew Kam's highly polluting gold mine outside Raub and was inspired by their courage and resolve to stop the operations against all odds. For a start, the Pahang royal house has shares in the venture, which might explain why the police saw fit to arrest and detain overnight those leading the protest against the toxic gold mine. However, the Bukit Koman residents remain undaunted, though at a loss as to what to do next. Word has it that there really isn't as much gold to be found as the investors had hoped, which could put them out of business sooner than they expect. One can only wish such sociopathic miscreants a spectacular failure.

Local residents point out the toxic gold mine

It's the same old tiresome scenario. Whether the villain of the piece happens to be Union Carbide in Bhopal, BP-Halliburton in the Gulf of Mexico, the Bakun Hydroelectric Project in Sarawak, the Three Gorges Dam in China, Peninsular Gold in Bukit Koman, Lynas Rare Earth in Gebeng, or bauxite mining near Kuantan - it's invariably a conspiracy of already rich folks trying to get even richer at the expense of ordinary citizens with no financial or political clout.

A beancurd factory is located less than 200 yards from the gold mine

What can I do about it - apart from keeping the story in the public eye? Just as I can't persuade billions of humans to turn their backs on fizzy drinks, commercialized football, and their pathological addiction to newspapers and TV, I doubt I can wean people off their compulsion to find gold and hoard it. especially not if their surname happens to be Kam (which, in Chinese, means "gold"). Who cares if toxic chemicals seep into the groundwater and the air is polluted with rash-inducing particles?

General view of Bukit Koman, a village just outside Raub in Pahang

It's painfully embarrassing that we have to suffer the grandiose extravagance of so many royal households - each with its grubby fingers in multiple business pies. Surely anyone receiving a generous allowance for simply existing would be well satisfied and refrain from soiling their hands with dubious and unsavory business ventures? Alas, this has not been the case - at least not since the Mahathir Era. Everybody wants to be another King Farouk or live in ungodly splendor like the Saudi Royals.

It doesn't matter how the money is obtained, how many are made to suffer the deleterious consequences - or what hideous ruin is inflicted on the environment.

Well, I can envisage a time when the only individuals entitled to royalty claims will be those who can produce works of beauty and enduring truth in the form of artifacts like films, music, literature, stimulating dance performances, inspiring murals, public sculptures, and magnificent buildings.

Raub Australian Gold Mining Sdn Bhd is hidden by the tall trees

Those who have accumulated their wealth through logging, mining, drilling, fracking, manufacturing junk, selling weaponry and accepting bribes will be universally marked as criminals and shunned wherever they go. I hope Taib Mahmud and Najib Razak's family is reading this. So be it.

[First published 29 June 2010, reposted 11 March 2012 & 4 April 2016]

DEPROGRAM YOURSELF (IT'S EASY!)

GOD moves in mysterious ways, the sneaky bastard.

Did I push any buttons? Did someone gasp and call me “extremely rude” or even “blasphemous”? If you responded with a spontaneous guffaw, congratulations, you’re CLEAR! You’re not required to read this - except for the laughs.

Are some of you frowning? What’s bothering you? The word “bastard” or the word “sneaky” or the word “mysterious” or the much-abused three-letter word “God”? Or are you feeling indifferent? Because you worship some concept that goes by the name of Wakan Tanka or Hunab K’u or Ahuramazda or Allah or Avalokiteshvara or Arumugam or Subramanian or Brahma or Vishnu or Shiva or Krishna or Ishwara or Paramapurusha or Sugmad or Sangyang Licin or Sangyang Widi or Pater Omnipotens Aeternae Deus or Tua Pek Kong or Zeus or Caesar or Kaiser or Führer or Pharaoh or Jesus Christ or Buddha or Sai Baba or Babaji or Baal or Marduk or Yahweh or Waheguru or Ptah or Enki or Tiki or Miki or Moto or Quetzalcoatl or Kukulcan or Tlaloc or Tezcatzlipoca or Odin or Votan or Dow Jones or Amex or Forex or GNP or Wang or Wong?

Wong moves in mysterious ways, the sneaky bastard.

Not quite the same somehow. But let’s take a good look at a few of these potentially troublesome words, beginning with bastard (bas’-tard) n. a child born out of wedlock; an impure, coarse brown refuse product of sugar-refining, used to color beer... (Old French bastard, from fils de bast, son of a pack-saddle). Well, forget about the brown sugar. It’s the “child born out of wedlock” definition that warrants our attention. Jeez, what a fuddy-duddy word “bastard” is! The truth is: anyone with parents feisty and free-spirited and passionate enough to enjoy a bit of societally unsanctioned coitus ought to be called “lucky.”


The way I see it, we are ALL immaculately conceived, regardless of who our parents happen to be - even if Dad came in the form of a dove or a black panther or pollen from outer space. Some women just happen to be kinky - but if the union is genetically sound, it will bear fruit.

Who on earth knows if God’s own parents (Mr & Mrs Prime Cause) were properly wed. Probably not. Which makes Him or Her or It the Bastard of Bastards. So we might as well delete the word “bastard” from the dictionary. No one’s going to miss it - except perhaps as a convenient swear word with no specific meaning.

How about sneaky? To creep around in a suspicious fashion, not wanting to be caught, preferring a degree of privacy? Well, if you had a thing about impregnating virgins, wouldn’t YOU be a master of sneakiness? The cat considers the mouse sneaky. But the mouse is only being careful: survival mechanism. In a safe, friendly environment nobody has to be sneaky.

As for mysterious: the word presents a problem only for obstinately logical types who mistrust anything empirically unprovable, anything in any way “mystical” (and therefore purely “subjective” and statistically unquantifiable under strict laboratory conditions). The rest of us find the mysterious rather alluring: a mystery seeks to be solved, especially if it arises from the mists of antiquity straight out of the realm of myth.

Now for the word God. Humans tend to fall into three broad categories: monotheists who insist on addressing the Supreme Being by just one name; pantheists (who prefer several names for the One and Only Holy Being; and atheists who don’t believe in taking anything on blind faith. Whichever category you think you feel most comfortable in, remember it’s all just names. When it comes down to essentials, the Absolute Tao - the virtually incomprehensible amazing and amusing miraculousness and magnificence of It All - is beyond names.

Calling God a “sneaky bastard” is really a term of endearment, indicating an affectionate intimacy, certainly not FEAR. Who wants to be feared? Only a horrible monster, to be sure. And God couldn’t possibly be as horrid as some folks make Him or Her or It out to be.


My daughters and I could never agree on the naming of our dogs. A black bitch I named Latipa they insisted on calling Smokey. The dog had no problem with any of this: she responded to whatever name we chose to call her, especially if food was involved. Even when “Latipa” evolved into “Tiparipati”, she still wagged her tail ecstatically when she heard any of her names. The point of the opening exercise was to demonstrate how easily we get entangled in semantic snares laid by our linguistic structures. I’m no antisemanticist, mind you, but I’m acutely aware of the limitations to clear perception caused by living exclusively in a reality defined and generated by language. How can one can escape from a mental prison constructed of word bricks? Recently I was re-reading Lila: An Inquiry Into Morals by Robert M. Pirsig and found an illuminating passage (among many) which deserves attention:

Eskimos see sixteen different forms of ice which are as different to them as trees and shrubs are different to us. Hindus, on the other hand, use the same term for both ice and snow. Creek and Natchez Indians do not distinguish yellow from green. Similarly, Choctaw, Tunica, the Keresian Pueblo Indians and many other people make no terminological distinction between blue and green. The Hopis have no word for time.

Pirsig goes on to quote Edward Sapir:

The fact of the matter is that the 'real world’ is to a large extent unconsciously built up on the language habits of the group... Forms and significances which seem obvious to an outsider will be denied outright by those who carry out the patterns; outlines and implications that are perfectly clear to these may be absent to the eye of the onlooker.

Many seekers have tried STILLNESS and SILENCE as therapy, embarking on voluntary programs of non-action and non-verbalization for days or weeks or even twenty or thirty years. I must admit that I have never managed to shut my mouth up for more than 24 hours (due to laryngitis), and as for shutting up the mind - 24 minutes is something to brag about (and after the first 10 minutes, I may have dozed off). Yet I don’t doubt that Stillness and Silence are a powerful way to cut through the crud and crap of our sociocultural conditioning and achieve true seeing, feeling, and knowing.



If ever you have the opportunity - and the determination - to carry out such a program, you will be rewarded with the gift of direct perception: beyond words, beyond personal egoic constraints, and beyond preconceptions. Watch it, though: seeing the halo around your head, people might just laugh at you in their usual vulgar manner. And in that elevated state it would not be an appropriate response to say "Fuck you!”

No, you’d simply have to expand your heart chakra (the glowing dynamic energy field in the middle of your chest that pulses with unconditional love just like ET or popular pin-ups of Jesus) and cherish your detractors to death, resurrection, and ascension.

Take heart. There are MODERN ways to deprogram yourself. But most of these come with a price tag - especially in this “new age” of marketing when even the most arcane teachings of the ancient mystery schools have been streamlined, simplified, updated and cleverly packaged into painless seminars and workshops that run from a single weekend to over a week. Count on paying anything from $100 to $5,000 - but bear in mind that the costlier programs don’t necessarily “work better” than the more affordable ones; they just have slicker brochures and a more professionally organized planetary network.

I’m not about to endorse any specific deprogramming approach (“belief management technologies” is what a few of these systems call themselves) - though I would encourage you to go for it if you find yourself in urgent need of "ontological refocusing" and some quick positive reinforcement - and if you’re one of those who normally wouldn’t think twice about a $150 hair restyling exercise or an impulsive visit to an Italian boutique. For sure you’ll come out feeling as good as if you’d just bought yourself a $2,000 Zegna suit (I wouldn’t know, I’ve only ever worn a second-hand pair of fancy Italian shoes and driven a fourth-hand Alfa Romeo - but even those tiny indulgences perked me up considerably.)

Those who are too cheap to consider spending wads of cash on any sort of therapy - not even getting your car fitted with genuine eelskin upholstery or treating yourself to ten sessions in a samadhi tank - good stuff, you’re just like me! So you’ll just have to trust your native intuition and follow your nose (or gnose) wherever it leads you. I did. And I can promise you one thing - the universe always looks after one of its own, regardless of your bank balance or reputation. Don’t expect me to compress 50 years of private research into a 2500-word blogpost. I only want to drop enough hints to get you going - or at least confirm that you’re doing perfectly fine just the way you are. But did I hear someone ask:

What’s the purpose of “deprogramming” yourself?


Boy, do we really have to go all the way back to basics? Well, why not? It’s a pretty good place to start. When was the last time you sat back and said to yourself: “There MUST be more to life than the mind-numbing, soul-dehydrating daily routine I’m caught up in!”? Not too long ago, right? THIS IS A POSITIVE SIGN THAT YOU’VE BECOME A PASSIVE CONSUMER OF REALITY. Which means: you believe that there’s someone “out there” who’s running the whole show and who decides everyone else’s “destiny.”

Don’t feel too bad about it. Most of us probably feel this way most of the time. It’s really just a bad case of overprogramming you’ve got. We inherit two sets of “hardwired” beliefs from our parents - who got theirs from their parents and so on - and some of these beliefs work in our favor, and some used to but don’t anymore. Dig around your so-called subconscious and you’ll uncover a whole lot of rotting furniture and other junk that would make a beautiful bonfire in the backyard of your being. You don’t want all that “karmic baggage” impeding your further evolution. It’s a good idea to travel light if you want to reach insights you’ve never had before.

Approximately 95% of this “junk programming” serves as Inhibitions. Society doesn’t want you behaving too differently from your neighbors. In the Industrial Age it has been very convenient to keep entire populations happily and mindlessly conforming to statistical “norms.” It makes marketing all kinds of energy-depleting stuff a lot easier. If you’re someone who believes that everything is simply hunky-dory the way it is, it’s perfectly okay. On another level, you’re absolutely right. But be sure you’ve taken the cellophane wrapping off your Reality Sandwich before you sink your teeth into it.

Sooner or later everybody gets the urge to deprogram himself or herself. It’s inevitable. You can’t stop water from flowing just by throwing a heap of rubbish in the drains. Eventually a major downpour will occur, causing a huge flood that will blast away the debris and sweep it all out to the ocean (the “ultimate solution” as Frank Zappa called it). In a single glorious moment, your vital force will break through the layers of encrusted ego programming - and you’ll be absolutely perfectly okay, the way we were all intended to be. Meanwhile, I suggest you attempt this simple visualization:


Picture yourself in front of your computer. On the monitor screen is a series of icons....

(a) a stern-faced, white-bearded patriarch, looking like some kind of judge

(b) a voluptuous Venus emerging from the sea, stark naked

(c) a ferocious-looking martial-type in full military regalia

(d) a Dick Cheney clone in a dark suit sporting a red tie and a cold-blooded grimace

(e) a cherubic woolly-haired old lady with a merry twinkle in her eyes

(f) a grinning juju-man, black as the night sky, togged up like a Zulu chief

(g) a serene old sage blissed out in lotus posture

(h) a thick book full of incomprehensible utterances and sonorous exhortations

(i) a chubby child of three, smiling as in a cereal ad

(j) an extremely compassionate, white-robed, maternal figure smiling benignly upon you

(k) a brilliant ball of neon blue light, pulsating with vitality and intelligence

(l) a gruesome giant reptile, velociraptor or tyrannosaurus rex, ready to snap your head off

(m) a life-sized bust of Marx - Karl or Groucho

(n) a wild-haired scientist pointing at a flipchart covered with algebraic workings

(o) a dazzling, energetic/synergetic, everchanging, kaleidoscopic, mandala pattern that represents perfect geometric integrity

(p) a glossy poster of Elvis Presley, Bob Marley, Jim Morrison, Madonna, Marilyn Monroe, Michael Jackson, James Dean, or the artist formerly known as Prince

(q) a monumental tree that seems to tower endlessly into the heavens

(r) a gargoyle-like stone statue weighing 850 tons

(s) a fairytale treasure chest overflowing with precious stones

(t) an archaic torture device with a pathetically bony and very nearly expired person nailed to it

(u) a flotilla of disc-shaped lifeforms radiating an other-worldly light

(v) a sleek seladang or cape buffalo, muscular torso glistening with sweat

(w) diamond-like galaxies orbiting one another eternally

(x) your grandparents in a formal portrait

(y) your favorite photo of yourself

(z) a bold question mark

NOW...Select your image of God. Move the mouse around till you find an icon you favor and click.


REALITY WILL IMMEDIATELY CONFORM TO WHICHEVER CONCEPT OF DIVINITY YOU CHOOSE!

If you later decide to alter your concept of God, you must first exit the current paradigm before repeating the procedure. You are free to change icons as often as you wish. Whichever icon you pick will prove completely valid.

If you clicked on the Question Mark, it means you’re always seeking new inputs and keeping your mind open, which is lovely.

If you clicked on your own image, that’s excellent too. But please remember at all times and places that there might be a couple billion other individuals on this planet who did exactly the same. So don’t get too bloody bigheaded.

This piece was written in 1996. It was published in JOURNAL ONE, and uploaded on this blog on 7 March 2007 at a time when I probably had no more than 50 readers a day. I reposted on 18 October 2013 & again on 9 October 2015 & 17 September 2019 with an enhanced layout because (i) it's still topical and relates to a recent piece I posted by Bob Wilson; (ii) I feel more humans have experienced a profound shift in perceptions since The Matrix was released in 1999 and (iii) I'm tired of saying the same old things about the same old stupid, irritating politicians, priests and panjandrums who stubbornly refuse to wise up, lighten up or resign and are just waiting to be unceremoniously booted out as soon as possible.

RELIGION, SPIRITUALITY, AND TRUTH (repost)

The etymology of words reveals a great deal. Take religion, for example: in Latin ligare means to tie together, to bind or connect; and religare means to rejoin what was separated. Therefore, religion is what ties together, reunites or reconnects us... but with what? Our unknown origins? The mysterious source of our being? With our tribe? Certainly religion is what reconnects us with the Godhead, or Divine Nature.

Along the way, the word “religion” becomes defined as “obligation” – and the idea of tying together or reconnecting somehow devolves into being tied up, bound by God’s Laws, imprisoned by rigid rules. And thus the joy of an ultimate homecoming gets twisted into an ingrained and unquestioning obedience, a sheeplike submission to restrictions externally imposed by “expert authorities.”

So let us redeem religion by defining it as a means to realign with and rejoin our sovereign self, the nucleus of our cellular awareness. Call it God or Goddess, Prime Creator or Source, Great Spirit or All That Is... religion has no purpose other than to get us reconnected, in order that our soul can reintegrate with the Cosmic Oversoul. Religion is a safe route from confusion to fusion with the many facets of the One.

Where does fundamentalism fit in with this definition of religion? The written word hasn’t been around very long: the oldest writings we know of are the Sumerian cuneiform tablets dating back a mere 6,000 years.

Fundamentalists cling tenaciously to the literal truth of their scriptures. They worship the written word as divine memos from On High. That’s why it takes a book religion to produce a fundamentalist – and the three best-selling book religions are Judaism, Christianity, and Islam. I don’t know what form Jewish fundamentalism takes, but you can be sure that in its extreme manifestation, it’s not particularly friendly towards non-Jews - just as Christian and Muslim fundamentalists don’t admit “infidels” into their paradise, and certainly not into their hearts.

Reading and writing are mostly left-brain activities engaging a “logical” masculine bias. Thus, the worship of the written word is of necessity a linear approach to non-linear reality: it perceives the divine as an Almighty Father and gives rise to a patriarchal, polarized social order that separates good from evil, light from dark, right from wrong, the sheep from the goats.

It’s easy to see how, in a pastoral community where illiteracy is the norm, the literate few can wield enormous influence over the many simply by monopolizing the interpretation and perpetuation of scriptures.

Now let’s take a look at what spirituality is all about. Spirit has been set apart from Matter as if the twain should never meet. Yet when we approach both Spirit and Matter from a scientific perspective, we find that the difference seems to be essentially vibrational: that is to say, Matter is what happens to Spirit when it slows itself down to a lesser frequency. Albert Einstein’s famous equation, E=MC2, suggests that mass and energy are interchangeable under certain conditions determined by velocity.

Another 20th century genius, R. Buckminster Fuller, postulated that 99.9% of the electromagnetic spectrum is metaphysical, that is, beyond the range of our sense organs and even our most sophisticated instruments. This means the physical world experienced through our senses and our scientific tools actually constitutes less than 0.1% of “reality.”

However, it’s possible to evolve to the point where 100% of the reality spectrum becomes accessible – by becoming, literally, All That Is! In a holographic universe, the difference between what’s micro and what’s macro is merely a question of scale. The Master Jesus is quoted as saying: “My Father and I are One.” Was he implying that he had attained a fractal awareness of the Godhead, of the Totality of Being? As a Son of God, he was divine; and as a Son of Man, human. This fulfils Meister Eckhardt’s mystical dictum that God must become Man, so that Man can become God.

In other words, the separation between Spirit and Matter is only apparent. But we have people at both ends of the reality spectrum, each claiming their end is superior or more important - a bit like the long-running feud between the Little Enders and the Big Enders in Gulliver’s Travels, wherein perpetual war is waged to decide which end of the egg should be regarded as the top.

To the scientific materialist, Matter is all that matters; while the mystic argues that Spirit permeates all space and time, and must therefore precede and prevail over Matter.

If Spirit and Matter are two sides of the proverbial coin, what does it mean to be a “spiritual” person? Superficially, one who shows less interest in material comforts could be described as “spiritual” – but does that indicate a more “correct” lifepath than someone who pays greater attention to materiality? If Spirit and Matter are indeed complementary, just like Yin and Yang, doesn’t it make sense for us to seek a dynamic equilibrium between these polarities. “X” marks the spot where Spirit and Matter intersect, where the horizontal meets the vertical, and what was once separate becomes whole... and holy! The Christ, instead of being seen as Spirit crucified on the Cross of Matter, is said to be simply on axis, and thereby freed forever from all suffering, real or imaginary. And as we uncrucify Jesus the Christ – who represents the Omega point of our evolutionary destiny – so, too, do we release ourselves from endless cycles of unnecessary grief and pain and guilt.

Pontius Pilate’s claim to fame, as recorded in the New testament, is the rhetorical question he posed during the trial of Jesus: WHAT IS TRUTH? Indeed, how do we define truth? Is it not an everchanging circumstance, always mutable? For instance, on a rainy day, it’s true to describe the streets as wet. But when the sun shines again, this condition is no longer true. Is there anything that can pass as “immutable truth”? I honestly doubt it. Perhaps we’re better off just being HONEST, rather than perpetually seeking some sort of immutable truth. At least, with honesty, one can conclude that the truth means different things to different perceptions – and all perceptions are, to a certain degree, valid.

What we’re dealing with here is a problem of semantics. Concepts that were in vogue hundreds, or even thousands of years ago, have influenced the way we define words and apply them in our everyday language, which in turn determines how we interpret our sensory perceptions.

The “rugged look” is viewed as “scruffy” by unsympathetic eyes. What’s “sexy” to one person comes across as “obscene” to another. So do we really want to commit genocide – and, ultimately, nuclear suicide - over a mere linguistic misunderstanding? Yet, that’s how bloody wars have erupted throughout history and, sadly, this continues to be the case.

All I’m saying is: IT DOESN’T HAVE TO BE!

Arthur C. Clarke, the visionary writer, once remarked that all human problems can be resolved with a little intelligence. I think it would do no harm to add a generous dash of love and a measure of genuine goodwill.


[Extracted from an unpublished manuscript, THE (UNFINISHED) BOOK OF JOHN: Confessions of a former Christian fundamentalist. First posted 16 February 2007, reposted 10 January 2014 & 20 July 2017]

The suspense is almost unbearable... (repost)

Which side will win? Will they declare a permanent truce and get on with living? Can there be an easy truce when justice has been denied so long, and so many heinous crimes committed against the powerless?

Long-buried fears return to haunt us... and hunt us! Do we seriously want change... or is the prospect of real change too frightening?

Only the ego fears non-existence. I am Existence Itself. And Non-Existence is the shadow I cast.

[First posted 21 February 2011]

TURN YOURSELVES IN NOW, PEOPLE! (reprise)

If you've ever indulged in anal or oral sex, know that you have committed a grave offence under Malaysian laws, and it's punishable by up to 20 years in prison and possibly a few strokes of the rotan. I suggest you turn yourself in immediately. Has your husband or boyfriend performed cunnilingus on you? Report him at once to the Royal Malaysian Police!

Imagine what would happen if 13,000,000 law-abiding Malaysians were to queue up in front of every Balai Polis throughout the country, waiting to lodge a report against themselves or their sex partners for committing the heinous crime of butt-fucking, cock-sucking and/or cunt-licking... think the home minister can handle such a situation?

Now ask yourself why only 1 Malaysian has ever been charged with sodomy? Is this not a blatant case of selective prosecution?

Come on, Jibby... drop the case and pack your bags. It's hopeless, you will never win this battle. Even if you do get a few punches in before you go down, you will lose the war for sure. 

We know you married a real battleship - a diesel-powered submarine, some snigger - but when she springs a leak.... uh-oh... it's gonna be blub-blub-blub-blub-blub for both of you all the way down.

[First posted 17 February 2010]

CONFERENCE OF THE NATURE GODS (revisited)

A lot goes on in Bangkok, the City of Angels. I was there eight years ago and met a reincarnated god named Pangu.

Not many today know about Pangu, unless they are familiar with Chinese mythology. This is the legend of Pangu, according to Wikipedia:

In the beginning there was nothing in the universe except a formless chaos. However this chaos coalesced into a cosmic egg for about 18,000 years. Within it, the perfectly opposed principles of Yin and Yang became balanced and Pangu emerged (or woke up) from the egg. Pangu is usually depicted as a primitive, hairy giant with horns on his head and clad in furs. Pangu set about the task of creating the world: he separated Yin from Yang with a swing of his giant axe, creating the Earth (murky Yin) and the Sky (clear Yang). To keep them separated, Pangu stood between them and pushed up the Sky. This task took 18,000 years; with each day the sky grew ten feet (3 meters) higher, the Earth ten feet wider, and Pangu ten feet taller.

After the 18,000 years had elapsed, Pangu was laid to rest. His breath became the wind; his voice the thunder; left eye the sun and right eye the moon; his body became the mountains and extremes of the world; his blood formed rivers; his muscles the fertile lands; his facial hair the stars and milky way; his fur the bushes and forests; his bones the valuable minerals; his bone marrows sacred diamonds; his sweat fell as rain; and the fleas on his fur carried by the wind became the fish and animals throughout the land.


In other words, the planet we inhabit is the transmogrified body of Pangu – literally and metaphorically. Few remember this, however, and humans have long believed that the Earth is theirs to do with as they like – and that is why they keep building sprawling cities and civilizations upon her surface, poisoning and destroying in the process all that is natural and life-sustaining.

This really pisses Pangu off. Indeed, he’s pissed off enough to personally intervene and see what’s to be done about the terrible mess humans have wrought upon the planet.

Pangu with his chaos generator

So, how did my encounter with Pangu come about? Like attracts like, they say. I have always identified strongly with the Arcadian nature god Pan. It was only natural that Pan would someday meet up with Pangu - whether in Pangaea, Pago Pago (also spelt Pango Pango), Pangkor Island or Pangkok.

This time around, Pangu is cleverly disguised as a Punk God named Aobo, born 19 October 1972 in Xingguo, China. He grew up in a place called Longtan, which means Dragon’s Pool. In fact, his human name Aobo can be translated as “Dragon’s Domain” – where dragons spawn and contemplate eternity.


From the realm of myth he stepped into the role of punk shaman. In the early 1990s Aobo bought a $50 guitar and began writing songs – angry, explosive, deeply emotive songs, with lyrics that would send a shiver up the spine of every cold-blooded autocrat, plutocrat, bureaucrat and technocrat in China.


Just as Jim Morrison of The Doors mesmerized an entire generation with the emotional intensity of his performances, Aobo had a radioactive effect on Chinese youngsters everywhere he performed with his band, PUNKGOD.


His raw, primal voice howling the pain of countless generations who have suffered tyranny’s oppression, Aobo sang about freedom – a word blocked on Chinese search engines – and taking action to reclaim the land from institutionalized greed’s ravages. He sang about the hurt in his heart when he heard a loud slap in the night – and realized the sound was from next door. A 17-year-old girl had returned home at 11:30pm to find an angry mother ready to hit her – for doing what nature intended her to do.


Songs charged with feeling, passionate feeling. Songs that evoked in the listener a sense of outrage that life on earth has been so viciously violated and perverted into Civilization As We Know It. More specifically, Aobo’s PUNKGOD project inspired a new wave of alternative bands and pioneered a revolutionary pantheistic consciousness that would ultimately supersede and neutralize traditional power hierarchies.


The overthrow of brute force and state-sponsored violence by people power appears frightening to those who cling to the status quo, but to the rest of us it only means an end to Sauron’s influence and Saruman @ Sharkey’s misrule (and who hasn’t seen the movies or read Tolkien’s books?)

The Chinese government grew nervous at the swiftly spreading PUNKGOD phenomenon and began to harass Aobo. Police would disrupt his concerts and once even attempted to arrest him on stage. As the story goes, Aobo took the police officer aside and spoke with him for a few minutes. That was enough to reactivate the human component in the policeman. He bowed curtly to Aobo and withdrew his men.


Turning robots into humans is considered a threat to national security in China – for that matter in every country where the vampires of industrialization and globalization have feasted. Friends in the force informed him the government was preparing the grounds for Aobo’s arrest and detention as an inciter of hatred towards authority, a dangerous advocate of lawlessness. So he quietly left the country and found political sanctuary in Sweden. After a while he gave up trying to master Swedish and opted to operate from an Asian base instead.

All Aobo desires is that humans will awake from their artificially induced cultural trance and reclaim their glorious destinies as freely evolving beings who know how to have fun and who deeply appreciate nature and everything natural. How dangerous is that?

Dining room studio: Aobo working on his new album

Pangu died in order that the world may live. Now he wants to enjoy the human experience to the max on his own resurrected mythic body - the Earth, the Solar System, the Galaxy, the Whole Universe in fact!

I conducted a brief interview with Aobo through a translator and this is what transpired:

Q: Are you Pangu himself – or just borrowing the name?

A: The politically correct answer is that I am merely an agent of Pangu. But those who know and speak the truth have no need for political correctness.

Q: Now that you’re back in conscious form, do you have any plans you can reveal?

A: It’s very simple. Originally, all that existed was Chaos. I emerged from that Primordial Chaos and became the world of forms; and when humans began to dominate the earth, we had a compulsion to impose our limited concepts of order upon nature, that’s how civilization started. Civilization has thus far been antagonistic to nature; it has grown more and more destructive. There is even talk of introducing a New World Order on this planet. I came back to remind people that Chaos is nothing to fear; it is our original, pure state of innocence, simplicity and spontaneity. It is the wellspring of all Life. Embrace Chaos and the New World Order will fail. Nature – or the Tao – will be reinstated and the Earth will be restored to pristine health and beauty, and all living beings will regain their freedom.

Now listen to some "jungle pig" music by PUNKGOD!

[First posted 14 February 2011, reposted 8 May 2014 & 3 May 2019]