The Poetry and Prose of John Omniadeo

The Poetry and Prose of John Omniadeo

Saturday, December 10, 2011

The Secret Female Place

I write this under a setting Full Moon but I am three thousand miles and three lunar months away from that night in San Francisco when the Full Moon of Mind lit up the brilliant dark background of non-Mind, which is non-experience, whatever that isn't.

This will be my last post in my series on my prostration retreat on the streets of San Francisco. (You can read the other posts in order listed to the right.) Though there were a few days and nights of the retreat after that Tuesday when I stayed out all night under the Full Moon in downtown San Francisco to penetrate the Secret Female Place, they were boring, anti-climactic, and this post will be too.

I hate to disappoint you. But, if you are looking for something, everything will disappoint you eventually.

Tears form in my eyes and sobbing convulses my heart and throat as I write this, for I too am still looking for something—we are in this together, I assure you—but that's just the way it works. I am terribly sorry.

When I asked Tara for help with the Secret Female Place I heard her answer: “She's all yours, John.” But immediately I began to doubt my interior hearing. It was possible she said, “He's all yours, Hon.”

I asked My Love for clarification and I was told:

“John, you can never penetrate the Secret Female Place. Nor can you escape Her, Diotima's Mystery. When you stand up straight into the Sky, it is there. When you fall prostrate on the Earth, it is there. In between before and after, bitter tears and joyous laughter, it is there:

In the natty mumbo jumbo
lives the never ending pun
deep above the humble mumble
two is two and one are one
but AH! this wicky wacky moment
two makes one make one make two
oh out of nowherever foment!
oh elemental duum do!
nonsense-I-call yer gyres and gimbles
what 'em hocus pocus HO!
plulp 'em past 'em pretty symbols
how 'em duum so am so.”


Love to All,

John O.

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