So says Arthur C Clarke, and I have to agree.
I'm of an era: there was this charming film, that really doesn't hold up to re-watching, so don't, but if you haven't seen it, do watch it and have a giggle. Anyway, The Gods Must Be Crazy... the premise of the film is that a bush pilot flying over the Kalahari drops out an empty Coke bottle. A Sho (one of those isolated bushmen who talk in the clicks and throat-noises languages) discovers this object that he saw fall from the sky - the Gods - and he now has the first piece of real technology.
It's one of the hardest things around, so it can crush. It can contain water (pretty sweet deal in the desert) - it's simply magic to them. Because they haven't encountered the technology before, it's sufficiently advanced. Because it's not mundane, it's supernatural. Because it carries all these traits, we can consider it magic.
Not Doug Henning (remember the goofy guy with the suspenders?), not David Copperfield or the modern conclusion of Criss Angel. Real magic, like a deeper knowledge or a higher purpose is being served. Not laying around on a bearskin rug having your paunchy belly oiled coven of shithead's magic. White wizard, white witch, taking what is, using natural sublime force and manifesting.
I offer to you - Yoga. It's startling simple yet mind-scramblingly complex; it's therapeutic and restorative and inspirational; it involves using vocalization at times to create space and experience. We use our hands in mudras like organic living wands. We create space where there was none, we slow down time, we tame that which is wild, we invigorate that which has diminished.
Be you, with you. That is the practice and I suggest, the Magic. You, done for you, by you, in you. You are the alchemist, the White Witch, Wizard or Warlock, the one who comes to the experience with the desire to know self, and to refine experience. Of course, do no harm, first to self, then to all, then to both because they are same.
Give thanks and praise.
I'm of an era: there was this charming film, that really doesn't hold up to re-watching, so don't, but if you haven't seen it, do watch it and have a giggle. Anyway, The Gods Must Be Crazy... the premise of the film is that a bush pilot flying over the Kalahari drops out an empty Coke bottle. A Sho (one of those isolated bushmen who talk in the clicks and throat-noises languages) discovers this object that he saw fall from the sky - the Gods - and he now has the first piece of real technology.
It's one of the hardest things around, so it can crush. It can contain water (pretty sweet deal in the desert) - it's simply magic to them. Because they haven't encountered the technology before, it's sufficiently advanced. Because it's not mundane, it's supernatural. Because it carries all these traits, we can consider it magic.
Not Doug Henning (remember the goofy guy with the suspenders?), not David Copperfield or the modern conclusion of Criss Angel. Real magic, like a deeper knowledge or a higher purpose is being served. Not laying around on a bearskin rug having your paunchy belly oiled coven of shithead's magic. White wizard, white witch, taking what is, using natural sublime force and manifesting.
I offer to you - Yoga. It's startling simple yet mind-scramblingly complex; it's therapeutic and restorative and inspirational; it involves using vocalization at times to create space and experience. We use our hands in mudras like organic living wands. We create space where there was none, we slow down time, we tame that which is wild, we invigorate that which has diminished.
Be you, with you. That is the practice and I suggest, the Magic. You, done for you, by you, in you. You are the alchemist, the White Witch, Wizard or Warlock, the one who comes to the experience with the desire to know self, and to refine experience. Of course, do no harm, first to self, then to all, then to both because they are same.
Give thanks and praise.
