Medusa

Medusa was fearsome. She represented Death and to see her face was to die; turning to stone symbolized dying and becoming a funerary statue. […] Medusa is a Holy Hag, not a monster. She is a Wise Woman and a Guardian of the Divine Dark. I feel a strong affinity with Medusa and compassion for her story. Her snakes are not evil. They are a symbol of transformation. She doesn’t fear her divine power. She is a timeless guardian of magic and healing. Medusa is a protector of women’s wisdom, a protector we need now more than ever. I long for her potent, transformative energy to enter our world.

C. Loran Hills
Ancient wisdom for modern times

accept sex totally

Tantra accepts everything. Whatsoever is, is accepted wholeheartedly. That is why Tantra could accept sex totally. For five thousand years Tantra has been the only tradition which has accepted sex totally, the only one all over the world. Why? Because sex is the point where you are, and any movement is going to be from the point where you are.

You are at the sex centre; your energy is at the sex centre. And from that point it has to move up, far beyond. If you reject the centre itself, then you can go on deceiving yourself that you are moving, but you cannot move. Then you are rejecting the only point from where movement is possible. So Tantra accepts the body, accepts sex, accepts everything. And Tantra says, wisdom accepts everything and transforms it; only ignorance rejects. Only ignorance rejects – wisdom accepts everything. Even a poison can become a medicine, but only through wisdom.

The body can become a vehicle to that which is beyond body, and sex energy can become a spiritual force.

Osho
The Book of Secrets, Talk #20

Of dinosaurs and other writers

5th August

Being a writer does not make you more interesting or wiser than others. It doesn’t even make you more eloquent. No, the interesting thing is where a writer puts his or her soul on display for all to see – which is a rare virtue indeed now days, because writers, like everyone else, tend to practice a fake honesty. So much so, honesty has almost become an extinct value in art as in life. We exist in a world of skepticism where people live to consume – wealth is the gauge for all human actions, success or failure is dictated by the cash generated, the profit made. And while we consume, we in turn are consumed by doubt. There is little place left for honesty –

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Should we float now, half in dream, from this house, my prison? Drift through the misty morning over the moor as far as the river? The river curves sleek as a snake. Looking back we will glimpse the roofs of the village, the cottages huddled together in claustrophobic patterns. Here at night no light can penetrate the dark. Here sin and excess live in silent secrecy –