meditation, Uncategorized

Joseph Campbell’s Soup

On occasion of her birthday just passing (thanks to social media for the notice), a piece by Lila Heasley.
In the next few weeks, we will have up our journal’s inaugural podcast with Lila and her husband Kurt Heasley. Our discussions took many varied directions and turns, the attempt being a long form dialogue that amounts to a sort of “spiritual biography”.
Lila Heasley is certified teacher of Integral Yoga Asana, Pranayama, Philosophy and Theory. Her knowledge and training descends from the deep wisdom of the Saraswati lineage, an ancient tradition that goes back thousands of years. A student of yoga her entire life, as a child she played and studied at the feet of her father’s Guru, Sri Swami Satchidananda, one of the great Yoga Masters of our time. She began teaching in 1987 and has taught regularly at the Satchidananda Ashram in Virginia as well as the Integral Yoga of Pennsylvania where she was Acting Director and served on the Board of directors.
Kurt Heasley is the founder and of Lilys, a singular and unique rock & roll band begun in Washington DC in 1988 who recently performed once more in New York and Philadelphia. 

Joseph Campbell’s Soup
or (A Concert in Upstate NY)
by Lila  Heasley

Driving a rental van picked up in Brooklyn a friend and a friend and a friend oh and that guy the one with the bag or the backpack always by his side. Rolling on by we’re all headed to the same place, man having been summoned light and dark doesn’t matter play it out… Set the stage a festival none of that clown world here but carnival festivus the wedding we never had. Everyone was there, man all of us, shy importance thick in the air ripe with intelligence grab your crowns, boys there’s a pirate in the land and were all headed to the same place

We’re all headed to the same place, man Jedis and Siths there is no such thing as absolutes the horns are blowing for the psychedelic wedding.

Memories now faded chronology lost dirty dancing says everybody whispers in the air it is clear we’re in a time a place unto itself we’re at the right place at the right time. You and I and him and all the rest the entire tribe gathers in celebration of sound vibrations mind expansion recalibration cell tune up or rewiring depending. In our case a joining a blending of tribes a royal wedding from him to us. Let it begin.

It had begun the lobby bar staff shipped in from the city friends of friends an extension of good vibes he is there quiet and soft spoken you, large and loud beautiful and proud he buys us gin and tonics we talk the words are lost only camaraderie and connection remain the vibration rises as we link up things happen as we sync up late night dining in the basement something out of David Lynch please tell me, there was a midget.

The next day I wore yellow… yellow of the sun ruffles and ties hair like a pixie laminates and lanyards tucked away your hair was short then too

Picnic tables outside and all your friends in bands with ironic names of contrast two things put together make something else

David Lynchburg

Marilyn Monroe Institute

I came to think of some of them as vampires but in that first moment with bbq in the air the opportunities seemed endless fresh and open, sunshine and flowers

Performance is perfect images from all sides prove it… it always surprises me heads nodding hearts expanding I am standing by the mixer to the right I watch him watch you

Afterwards an interview a rest in the van hey hey hello no backstage passes here it’s a meet and greet the guys are psyched Joe brings the Tea one sugar cube for you and me

Jungian Dreaming

Joseph Campbell’s Soup

We are hiding under blankets playing peek-a-boo in the van energetically knitting our ropes linking up syncing up for the big event we are players on the chessboard time to move

You are pulling me to the now people migrating I am swinging behind the music is making me sick like it’s grabbing my ovaries and squeezing elves and fairies playing with pedals these must be woodelves I have to leave.

We find the camp counselors who take us to the playground where the first downloads begin

no to beer

yes to water

sex is ok

so is pee

I lay down to the end of the world sirens and masks white paper zip ups I can’t breathe I am dying but no they tell me to breathe the people in masks it is foggy and wet and all I know in slow motion lying on a cool marble floor he is there with my Guru they teach me to meditate activate the signal pituitary decalcification program begins the vibration of truth of love permeates.

dark curls and orange robes

I come to on the ground snapped to a choice stay here in the cold in the wet, outdoors, in the mud or go into where it’s warm and dry we have the penthouse, waiting strains of “What Would You Say?” play over and over in the background

 We have a choice, goddamn it!

Get up!

Get to the penthouse!

Rivers part our paths upwards passes flashed before the escalator large dark men let us through we have a room with a table, overflowing I only want water being sucked down the stairs where that man in the door there will rape me

Your cord tightens and you call me back to the present to your drummer who opens the curtains who shows me the crowd thousands of people, shoulder to shoulder bathed in pink and purple cheering as they wait a lifetime of waiting still they are patient as hell as the energy builds and the crowd sounds grow louder the lights shift igniting a flurry of it’s begun false starts and your drummer pulls back the curtain again and says are you ready they’re waiting for you are you ready?

And in that moment I learn that I am not yet ready to walk out on that stage for that crowd of people waiting for me.

But, he is.

And it begins

And each cell responds lifted – lightened  a rollercoaster of sound clearing the way as the frequency builds tuning us to the universe, the divine soundtrack of industrial dreams we are freed the columns are shaking with joy I lean back on your chest and close my eyes as we clasp hands and soak it all in

We understand

Choreographed to the second each opening as much and as little as they can be he married us in that moment the king, the prince stag to stag, god to god a bond is forged in blinding light a massaging bass liquid voices hover

The woodelves have been vanquished the sorcerer king has brewed up a sonic ambrosia seed mantra for the people a bija of truth knowledge bliss Sat-chid-ananda