Michael’s Rabbit Hole
The Self-Absorption of Human Consciousness
Odds are, no one will ever be as interested in your world as You are.
It would be an impossible feat for anyone to ever put aside their own.
The Illusion of Perception
Your existence, your world, your universe,
Is but an illusion of perception born of imagination,
Inspired by the five senses, linked to the mind, You call yours.
The reality You are, is so much greater, than the minute shimmer allotted.
A Solitary Wander
To be … the truth … the life … the way …
Is to be in absolute, solitary relationship,
With the moment, with the singularity,
You, awareness, every moment are.
Vanity, Vanity, All is Vanity
All your power, all your prestige, all your wealth, does not make You special.
We all end up, with all our fellow earthlings, in the same grave, sooner or later.
Build all the castles You please, climb every mountain You can, it is all for naught.
The Pie of History
History can be looked at from an infinity of angles and dimensions.
Personal history, group history, world history, natural history, universal history.
There is no end to the myriad ways consciousness can cut the pie, it has in imagination baked.
The Awareness Does Not Care
Infinite or infinitesimal, the awareness does not care.
Spiritual or agnostic, the awareness does not care.
Clean or dirty, the awareness does not care.
Live or die, the awareness does not care.
Wealthy or poor, the awareness does not care.
Alive or dead, the awareness does not care.
Believer or atheist, the awareness does not care.
Subtle or blatant, the awareness does not care.
Kind or cruel, the awareness does not care.
Sane or insane, the awareness does not care.
Straight or gay, the awareness does not care.
Sage or fool, the awareness does not care.
Fast or slow, the awareness does not care.
Do or do not, the awareness does not care.
Long or short, the awareness does not care.
Succeed or fail, the awareness does not care.
Love or hate, the awareness does not care.
Still or moving, the awareness does not care.
Real or unreal, the awareness does not care.
Tit or tat, the awareness does not care.
For or against, the awareness does not care.
Up or down, the awareness does not care.
Around or through, the awareness does not care.
Clear or unclear, the awareness does not care.
Fat or thin, the awareness does not care.
Strong or weak, the awareness does not care.
Gratis or priceless, the awareness does not care.
Hard or soft, the awareness does not care.
Give or take, the awareness does not care.
To or from, the awareness does not care.
Wise or foolish, the awareness does not care.
Beautiful or ugly, the awareness does not care.
Big or small, the awareness does not care.
Known or unknown, the awareness does not care.
Fore or aft, the awareness does not care.
Awake or asleep, the awareness does not care.
Heavy or light, the awareness does not care.
Rich or poor, the awareness does not care.
Awake or asleep, the awareness does not care.
True or false, the awareness does not care.
Ecstasy or agony, the awareness does not care.
First or last, the awareness does not care.
Creative or destructive, the awareness does not care.
Full or empty, the awareness does not care.
Sweet or bitter, the awareness does not care.
Loud or quiet, the awareness does not care.
Straight or rounded, the awareness does not care.
Bright or dim, the awareness does not care.
Well or unwell, the awareness does not care.
Astute or obtuse, the awareness does not care.
Like or unlike, the awareness does not care.
Appealing or revolting, the awareness does not care.
Clear or opaque, the awareness does not care.
Thick or thin, the awareness does not care.
Brave or cowardly, the awareness does not care.
Sweet or sour, the awareness does not care.
Equal or lopsided, the awareness does not care.
King or slave, the awareness does not care.
Queen or whore, the awareness does not care.
Expansive or contractive, the awareness does not care.
Soft or harsh, the awareness does not care.
Young or old, the awareness does not care.
Male or female, the awareness does not care.
Honest or dishonest, the awareness does not care.
Wild or tame, the awareness does not care.
Early or late, the awareness does not care.
Pure or foul, the awareness does not care.
Cautious or reckless, the awareness does not care.
Hit or miss, the awareness does not care.
Lead or follow, the awareness does not care.
High or low, the awareness does not care.
Naive or cynical, the awareness does not care.
Truth or lie, the awareness does not care.
Deep or shallow, the awareness does not care.
Open or closed, the awareness does not care.
Rational or absurd, the awareness does not care.
Near or far, the awareness does not care.
Singular or dual, the awareness does not care.
In or out, the awareness does not care.
Free or imprisoned, the awareness does not care.
Yes or no, the awareness does not care.
Attached or detached, the awareness does not care.
Course or fine, the awareness does not care.
All or none, the awareness does not care.
Shiny or dull, the awareness does not care.
Smart or stupid, the awareness does not care.
Tall or short, the awareness does not care.
Forward or backward, the awareness does not care.
Before or after, the awareness does not care.
Selfless or selfish, the awareness does not care.
One or two, the awareness does not care.
Within or without, the awareness does not care.
Yay or nay, the awareness does not care.
Close or distant, the awareness does not care.
Normal or weird, the awareness does not care.
Wet or dry, the awareness does not care.
Hot or cold, the awareness does not care.
Constant or fickle, the awareness does not care.
Positive or negative, the awareness does not care.
Happy or sad, the awareness does not care.
Fair or unfair, the awareness does not care.
Over or under, the awareness does not care.
Similar or different, the awareness does not care.
Loose or tight, the awareness does not care.
Plus or minus, the awareness does not care.
Above or below, the awareness does not care.
Inside or outside, the awareness does not care.
Simple or complex, the awareness does not care.
Black or white, the awareness does not care.
Smooth or coarse, the awareness does not care.
Wide or narrow, the awareness does not care.
Gentle or cruel, the awareness does not care.
Humble or vain, the awareness does not care.
On or off, the awareness does not care.
Here or there, the awareness does not care.
Have or have not, the awareness does not care.
Sharp or dull, the awareness does not care.
Good or bad, the awareness does not care.
Right or wrong, the awareness does not care.
Everything or nothing, the awareness does not care.
Something or nothing, the awareness does not care.
White or black, the awareness does not care.
Light or dark, the awareness does not care.
This or that, the awareness does not care.
Awareness holds on to nothing; why do You?
Paths Less Traveled
Without doubt, without hesitation, without disbelief,
There is no starting down the path less traveled.
A divergent path, where serendipity rules.
An uncharted path, where insecurity is the norm.
A long and winding path, where spontaneity is a delight.
And in that … no direction known … inexplicable fates are drawn.
Six Words Down a Rabbit Hole
The magical mystery tour of imagination.
Time and space are mind-body illusion.
Five senses contrive a cosmic theater.
The agony, the ecstasy, the absurdity.
All are helpless upshots of mutation.
The genetic lottery casts all askew.
Sand ever falling in the hourglass.
Quantum matrix, the same in all.
The awareness, the same in all.
The sentience, the same in all.
The moment, the same in all.
The mystery, the same in all.
We are stardust, come to life.
Dust to dust, ashes to ashes.
We are cousins of the puddle.
All are molded by their niche.
Who has ever had any choice?
Who has ever seen their face?
Who has ever been like me?
Who has ever been like You?
Who has ever been like him?
Who has ever been like her?
Who has ever been like them?
We are all just prisoners here.
All adrift in labyrinth of mind.
Ever more in common than not.
Belief is but a delusionary fog.
Be and allow, the highest law.
‘Tis but an hour, strutted, fretted.
Vanity and greed rule the world.
A species unable to contain itself.
A cancer devouring our dust ball.
The horror, the horror, no respite.
No one sees their allotted facade.
All wander the same stage, alone.
Nothing is ever the same nothing.
All lives are but imaginary dreams.
All differences are but shell games.
We are cousins of natural selection.
So many trivial things given weight.
All differences share the same grave.
Paradox and irony and absurdity rule.
The sound, the fury, signifying nothing.
The Good News
The good news is there is nothing to believe.
The good news is there is nothing to seek.
The good news is there is nothing to worship.
The good news is there is nothing know.
The good news is there is nothing to follow.
The good news is there is nothing to judge.
The good news is there is nothing to ponder.
The good news is there is nothing to do.
The good news is there is nothing to undo
The good news is there is nothing say.
The good news is there is nothing to be.
The good news is there is nothing accept.
The good news is there is nothing to deny.
The good news is there is nothing to study.
The good news is there is nothing to join.
The good news is there is nothing to create.
The good news is there is nothing to surrender.
The good news is there is nothing to reflect.
The good news is there is nothing to generate.
The good news is there is nothing to consent.
The good news is there is nothing to divide.
The good news is there is nothing to contend.
The good news is there is nothing to refuse.
The good news is there is nothing to permit.
The good news is there is nothing to ignore.
The good news is there is nothing to borrow.
The good news is there is nothing to commit.
The good news is there is nothing to align.
The good news is there is nothing to merge.
The good news is there is nothing to wallow.
The good news is there is nothing to grapple.
The good news is there is nothing to strain.
The good news is there is nothing to solicit.
The good news is there is nothing to negotiate.
The good news is there is nothing to claim.
The good news is there is nothing to assert.
The good news is there is nothing to evaluate.
The good news is there is nothing to moderate.
The good news is there is nothing to regulate.
The good news is there is nothing to barter.
The good news is there is nothing to control.
The good news is there is nothing to tame.
The good news is there is nothing to mediate.
The good news is there is nothing to speculate.
The good news is there is nothing to guess.
The good news is there is nothing to appraise.
The good news is there is nothing to battle.
The good news is there is nothing to tithe.
The good news is there is nothing to promote.
The good news is there is nothing to decide.
The good news is there is nothing to concede.
The good news is there is nothing to bargain.
The good news is there is nothing to yearn.
The good news is there is nothing to shelter.
The good news is there is nothing to appeal.
The good news is there is nothing to summon.
The good news is there is nothing to mediate.
The good news is there is nothing to obligate.
The good news is there is nothing to evaluate.
The good news is there is nothing to calculate.
The good news is there is nothing to achieve.
The good news is there is nothing to build.
The good news is there is nothing to coerce.
The good news is there is nothing to compel.
The good news is there is nothing to measure
The good news is there is nothing to refute.
The good news is there is nothing to grasp.
The good news is there is nothing to protect.
The good news is there is nothing to gauge.
The good news is there is nothing to defend.
The good news is there is nothing to renounce.
The good news is there is nothing to establish.
The good news is there is nothing to dissolve.
The good news is there is nothing to retain.
The good news is there is nothing to embrace.
The good news is there is nothing to reject.
The good news is there is nothing to relinquish.
The good news is there is nothing to conquer.
The good news is there is nothing to subdue.
The good news is there is nothing to expand.
The good news is there is nothing to contract.
The good news is there is nothing to require.
The good news is there is nothing to request.
The good news is there is nothing to possess.
The good news is there is nothing to approve.
The good news is that …
The eternal moment, the eternal awareness, the eternal singularity, the eternal You,
The ineffable You, the indivisible You, the indelible You, the unfathomable You, the indefinable You,
Is free and clear of all trespass, free and clear of any yoke, whatsoever.
You are it, it is You, there is no other.
Be, free.
No Need for Deities
What is it about humankind and its genomic blend, that it is so insecure, that it is so fearful,
That it, across all geographies, has imagined a supreme deity or a gaggle of deities,
To praise or blame for the blessings and misfortunes of this mortal theater?
Surely, existing as gracefully as possible in the given ebb and flow,
Is enough for anyone sensibly abiding the rhythms of nature.
There is no exultant ending to any mortal narrative.
To endure it rationally, stoically, is an admirable achievement.
You Are All of It
You are the timeless awareness.
You are the eternal moment.
You are all the worlds.
You are all the stars,
You are all the stardust.
You are every quantum display.
You are all the space within and without.
You are the entire universe, and beyond all beyonds.
You are the infinitesimal, the infinite, unborn-undying totality.
You are the ineffable, inexplicable mystery, in which all appearances dance.
Entangling Briars
How is it that so many seers of this infinite, indifferent mystery,
Generate so much absurdity, that morphs into so much painful misery?
How much better for the all, it might be, to stay silent, to say little or nothing.
Daito Kokushi, fourteenth century Japanese Zen master of the Rinzai school, wrote:
“Wishing to entice the blind, The Buddha has playfully let words escape his golden mouth.
Heaven and earth are ever since filled with entangling briars.”
Hopefully, these way too many cogitations,
Will find their way to oblivion,
Before wreaking too much mayhem.
One can never discern how noble intentions,
Will be warped and perverted in the theaters of mind.
You, Me, He, She, They, All
All sentience is the awareness.
You are the awareness.
I am the awareness.
He is the awareness.
She is the awareness.
They are the awareness.
The same awareness is in all things.
Despite all imaginary concoctions to the contrary,
There is no other.
Prior to All Things
Prior to consciousness.
Prior to sentience.
Prior to dreams.
Prior to words.
Prior to thought.
Prior to narratives.
Prior to forms, You are.
Call It What You Will
Call it eternity.
Call it God.
Call it awareness.
Call it the moment.
Call it now.
Call it perpetuity.
Call it infinity.
Call it nothing.
Call it everything.
Call it ineffable.
Call it mystery.
Call it whatever.
It is the same nothing, it is the same everything, it is, has ever been, will ever be.
The Limits of Rationality
Science and all related fields, can never grasp the full truth,
Because truth, is prior to all things measurable,
Prior to all things theoretical,
Prior to all things born of consciousness.
It is the indelible, ineffable, intangible indivisibility.
It is the unknowable, inexplicable, unborn-undying mystery, prior to all.
The Abyss of Awareness
What could awareness possibly need?
What could awareness possibly want?
What could awareness possibly fear?
What could awareness possibly dread?
What could awareness possibly love?
What could awareness possibly hate?
What could awareness possibly believe?
What could awareness possibly see?
What could awareness possibly hear?
What could awareness possibly smell?
What could awareness possibly taste?
What could awareness possibly feel?
What could awareness possibly think?
What could awareness possibly know?
What could awareness possibly anything?
As is written in the Sixth Sutra of Manuel Schoch’s
Bitten by the Black Snake translation of the Ashtravaka Gita:
You are not the doer, You are not the enjoyer.
You are pure awareness, the witness of all things.
You are without expectation, free.
Wherever You go, be happy.
A Choiceless Existence
You pose, You pretend, You politic, You participate, as your sensory theater dictates.
To consider yourself free in the winds of this choiceless pattern You play, is absurd.
Naught But Awareness
Awareness is the inherent mystery.
There is no deity to worship.
There is no groupthink.
There is no ministry.
There is no doctrine.
There is but awareness.
And it is free, to any and all,
Who have the insight to fathom it.
The Root of All Things Human
It is imagination that craves, not the awareness.
It is imagination that fears, not the awareness.
It is imagination that dreads, not the awareness.
It is imagination that loves, not the awareness.
It is imagination that hates, not the awareness.
It is imagination that suffers, not the awareness.
It is imagination that delights, not the awareness.
It is imagination that cherishes, not the awareness.
It is imagination that trusts, not the awareness.
It is imagination that believes, not the awareness.
It is imagination that inquires, not the awareness.
It is imagination that explores, not the awareness.
It is imagination that scorns, not the awareness.
It is imagination that lusts, not the awareness.
It is imagination that deceives, not the awareness.
It is imagination that lies, not the awareness.
It is imagination that cheats, not the awareness.
It is imagination that agonizes, not the awareness.
It is imagination that steals, not the awareness.
It is imagination that creates, not the awareness.
It is imagination that preserves, not the awareness.
It is imagination that destroys, not the awareness.
It is imagination that seeks, not the awareness.
It is imagination that finds, not the awareness.
It is imagination that raptures, not the awareness.
The root of everything human, is the stew of imagination.
Staring at Walls
All are mesmerized by the quantum matrix.
A few and far between awaken to that which all truly are,
But even they likely fall into slumber more than they might care admit.
Few can long sit in a cave, staring at a wall, and not be drawn out into the dreamtime,
At least occasionally for short bouts of drinking and whoring and sundry other disreputable respites.
Illusions Beyond Counting
The small have their time, as do the large; all are predators, all are prey.
There are no survivors in this unborn-undying eternal mystery.
Only witnesses born into illusions beyond counting.
The Abyss of Awareness
We all wander in the same ineffable, eternal moment,
With entirely different perceptions, different worlds, different universes.
Pretty tough for imagination, in its never-ending swirl of space-time, to do anything the same.
The Untouchable Awareness
Yes, there is a supreme deity, and it is peering out through your eyes,
As it is through those of every other sentient creature,
Ever fashioned in all of creation.
And it is not that awareness that judges the creation,
But You, and all the other two-leggeds, across the human paradigm,
Who wrought what they see, into heavens and hells of their habituated persuasions.
Like Santa Claus in the Christmas jingle, everyone is keeping their lists, and checking them twice.
So many, wander about, believing what they think so important to some on-high,
But it is never more than the muddled miasma of imagination.
We all come and go; only awareness remains.
Untouched by any of it.
The English Mutt
The fundamental purpose of any language is communication.
To call the English language a bastard is profoundly wrong.
It is a mutt, a mix of lingual coding, that is strong and healthy,
Intelligent, rational, formidable, spirited, robust, stable, fearless,
And serves all well, in whatever way the ineffable moment requires.
The Song of Mystery
The song of mystery has an infinity of verses.
Many universes all making up a vast multiverse.
There is no beginning to it; there is no end to it,
Except the eternal oneness, that is source to all.
What Do You Really Know?
Yes, You have explored so many things.
Your mind is full of every variety of minutiae.
But truthfully, Pilgrim, what do You genuinely know?
You must empty the mind to discern what is, and what is not.
Wisdom is the loftiest mainstay of consciousness,
And even it must yield to oblivion.
The Mystery of Eternity
Another day of beating your head,
Against the illusion, the pretense, the futility,
Of imagining there is more, of imagining You are more.
It is what it is; You are what You are: this very moment, awareness.
An eternal mystery; unfathomable, indivisible, ineffable.
Nothing more, nothing less, nothing but.
What more is there to say?
Quantum All
I, Quantum.
You, Quantum.
He, Quantum.
She, Quantum.
Us, Quantum.
It, Quantum.
All, Quantum.
What More?
What more is there to see?
What more is there to hear?
What more is there to taste?
What more is there to smell?
What more is there to feel?
What more is there to be?
What more is there to say?
What more is there to do?
What more is there to own?
What more is there to want?
What more is there to know?
What more is there to believe?
What more is there to pretend?
What more is there to love?
What more is there to hate?
What more is there to judge?
What more is there to destroy?
What more is there to preserve?
What more is there to create?
And yet, we slog on and on.
The Surreality! The Surreality!
How surreal, the light.
How surreal, the tastes.
How surreal, the smells.
How surreal, the sounds.
How surreal, the textures.
How surreal, the sentience.
How surreal, the dream.
How surreal, the Self.
The Eternity of Time
Analog clocks spin.
Digital clocks emanate.
Calendar pages turn and turn.
Sun and moon go round and round.
Eternity never starts long enough to stop.
Awareness, All
I, Awareness.
You, Awareness.
He, Awareness.
She, Awareness.
Us, Awareness.
It, Awareness.
All, Awareness.
Scar Tissue
Not easy to set aside all the scar tissue of a lifetime.
Consciousness, imagination, has a way of holding on,
To pretty much everything the mind-body has endured.
To be free, one must be very adept at being the moment.
Eternal Witness
There is only the ether of awareness, eternal witness, unborn-undying, tabula rasa, right here, right now.
It has no forward.
It has no backward.
It has no right.
It has no left.
It has no up.
It has no down.
It has no before.
It has no after.
It has no form.
It has no traits.
It has no value.
It has no virtue.
It has no sight.
It has no sound.
It has no taste.
It has no smell.
It has no sense.
It has no voice.
It has no stories.
It has no good.
It has no bad.
It has no vanity.
It has no passion.
It has no hope.
It has no faith.
It has no need.
It has no greed.
It has no power.
It has no renown.
It has no wealth.
It has no ecstasy.
It has no agony.
It has no light.
It has no dark.
It has no birth.
It has no death.
It has no space.
It has no time.
It has no mind.
It has no imagination.
Earth, wind, water, fire, ethereal quantum dancers, eternity’s genesis, ever present, ever kaleidoscoping.
Your Little Part
Why do You torture yourself so, over so many things that can never be changed.
To satisfy another is not necessary; perhaps only rarely possible.
To do your best is all that You can/should ever offer.
So it goes, deal with it, get over it, move on.
Play your little part, as best ye are able.
Just remember Ecclesiastes 1:2
Vanity, vanity, all is vanity.
Change Is
Change is.
Some, You like.
Some, You never will.
Oh well.
So it goes.
Deal with it.
Get over it.
Move on.
All You can really do,
Is play your short little tale,
As best You are able.
Quantum Duplicity
Each of the five sensory organs – eyes, ears nose, tongue, skin –
Translate a different scintilla of the electromagnetic spectrum.
And in the quantum mind, an illusory universe kaleidoscopes eternal,
And imagination makes apparent, the mystery timelessly witnessing all dreams.
All naught but quantum duplicity, seemingly real, to all but those born to see the ineffable.
So many are so adept at examining the illusion in every way, but at some point, what is the point?
To discern that which is real, that which is true, one must set aside the mundane, still the mind,
And simply be the mystery of awareness; the indivisible, indelible, ineffable witness, in all.
An Invention of Natural Selection
What a challenge to realize in daily living, that, that tiny little voice in your head,
That sense of self that gradually came to dominate your existence,
Is an invention of the natural selection of our species,
And that everything it spout's, is delusion.
There is no deity, up in the clouds, watching everything,
Tracking everything our genomic ‘thespian inclination’ has Shakespeared.
Where in the Moment?
Where is the desire in the moment?
Where is the fear in the moment?
Where is the dread in the moment?
Where is the fervor in the moment?
Where is the anger in the moment?
Where is the lust in the moment?
Where is the jealousy in the moment?
Where is the envy in the moment?
Where is the sorrow in the moment?
Where is the suffering in the moment?
Where is the hate in the moment?
Where is the love in the moment?
Where is the vanity in the moment?
Where is the arrogance in the moment?
Where is the futility in the moment?
Where is the persona in the moment?
Where is the imagination in the moment?
Where is any passion, any outburst, any obsession,
But in the ductless glands and viscera of the mind-body,
Ineradicably bound to the quantum illusion of space and time.
Unnamed, Unclaimed, Untamed
You are playful piper, flaming bush, enduring ferryman, ascetic recluse;
A wandering madman journeying a cosmos spun of imagination.
You are all things, You are all spaces, You are all times.
There is nothing that You are not, and nothing that You are.
You are the irony, the paradox; unnamed, unclaimed, untamed.
A False Narrative
The human paradigm is founded upon an entirely false narrative.
The human paradigm is founded upon an entirely untrue narrative.
The human paradigm is founded upon an entirely fake narrative.
The human paradigm is founded upon an entirely incorrect narrative.
The human paradigm is founded upon an entirely bogus narrative.
The human paradigm is founded upon an entirely pretend narrative.
The human paradigm is founded upon an entirely erroneous narrative.
The human paradigm is founded upon an entirely wrong narrative.
The human paradigm is founded upon an entirely sham narrative.
The human paradigm is founded upon an entirely put-on narrative.
The human paradigm is founded upon an entirely fallacious narrative.
The human paradigm is founded upon an entirely dishonest narrative.
The human paradigm is founded upon an entirely phony narrative.
The human paradigm is founded upon an entirely made-up narrative.
The human paradigm is founded upon an entirely deceptive narrative.
The human paradigm is founded upon an entirely deceitful narrative.
The human paradigm is founded upon an entirely forged narrative.
The human paradigm is founded upon an entirely insincere narrative.
The human paradigm is founded upon an entirely mistaken narrative.
The human paradigm is founded upon an entirely made-up narrative.
The human paradigm is founded upon an entirely copied narrative.
The human paradigm is founded upon an entirely deceiving narrative.
The human paradigm is founded upon an entirely insincere narrative.
The human paradigm is founded upon an entirely artificial narrative.
The human paradigm is founded upon an entirely fallacious narrative.
The human paradigm is founded upon an entirely deceptive narrative.
The human paradigm is founded upon an entirely fictitious narrative.
The human paradigm is founded upon an entirely counterfeit narrative.
The human paradigm is founded upon an entirely misleading narrative.
The human paradigm is founded upon an entirely fabricated narrative.
It ain’t true, it ain’t real, it ain’t correct, and it ain’t gonna last for much more forever.
But oh well, so it goes, deal with it, get over it, move on, play your little part, as best ye are able.
The World Wags On
Scientists measure, mathematicians gauge, engineers and architects and craftsmen build,
Businessmen buy and sell, industrialists manufacture, artists create,
Politicians compromise, generals maneuver.
The world wags on.
The True Nature of Intelligent Design
The rock has rock sentience, rock intelligence.
The rose has rose sentience, rose intelligence.
The hawk has hawk sentience, hawk intelligence.
The lizard has lizard sentience, lizard intelligence.
The trout has trout sentience, trout intelligence.
The cactus has cactus sentience, cactus intelligence.
The beetle has beetle sentience, beetle intelligence.
The horse has horse sentience, horse intelligence.
The frog has frog sentience, frog intelligence.
The whale has whale sentience, whale intelligence.
The tree has tree sentience, tree intelligence.
The snake has snake sentience, snake intelligence.
The spider has spider sentience, spider intelligence.
The weed has weed sentience, weed intelligence.
The earth has earth sentience, earth intelligence.
The wind has wind sentience, wind intelligence.
The water has water sentience, water intelligence.
The fire has fire sentience, fire intelligence.
The ether has ether sentience, ether intelligence.
The moon has moon sentience, moon intelligence.
The sun has sun sentience, sun intelligence.
The galaxy has galaxy sentience, galaxy intelligence.
The universe has universe sentience, universe intelligence.
The multiverse has multiverse sentience, multiverse intelligence.
The stardust has stardust sentience, stardust intelligence.
The quantum has quantum sentience, quantum intelligence.
The mystery has mystery sentience, mystery intelligence.
The Make-Believe of Imagination
It is all imagined; it is all make-believe.
Nothing more than a dream of the mind-body.
Nothing more than a thingamajig of quantum design.
Without it, who-what-when-where-why-how would You be?
With it, who-what-when-where-why-how are You?
Nothing more, nothing less, nothing but.
An illusion, so real, it draws You on,
Until death turns off the spigot.
Why? Why? Why?
Why believe anything that is not true?
Why be with people You do not really like?
Why travel someplace You have no need to see?
Why work hard for something You do not really want?
Why expect perfection from something which can never be?
Why try so hard to be something You already are?
Are You Really?
Are You really a who?
Are You really a what?
Are You really a where?
Are You really a when?
Are You really a why?
Are You really a how?
Right Here, Right Now
The awareness,
The moment,
Eternal life,
Right here,
Right now,
All and none.
Human Becomings
We are not human beings; we are human becomings.
The being in human being, was lost with the first word.
Always everywhere else but this right-here-right-now.
Trapsing about some past; contemplating some future.
Imagination at the helm, wandering every distraction,
To avoid its deceits ever being seen for what they are.
The Fall of Eden
Before imagination and language coupled,
Our ancestors were all alone in their clannish consortiums.
Completely unaware, oblivious, to any other version the jungle but their own.
And from the moment sound morphed into the first concept,
The human paradigm departed the garden.
And the world shuddered.
Die! Die! Die!
Die to the world.
Die to the universe.
Die to imagination.
Die to the dream.
Die to the mind.
Die to the body.
Die to the self.
Die to space.
Die to time.
Die to now.
One Moment
There is only one moment.
One moment in which the quantum illusion plays space and time real,
In an infinitesimal speck of eternity.
At Some Point, What Is the Point?
So many are so adept at examining the illusion in every way, but at some point, what is the point?
To discern that which is real, that which is true, one must set aside the mundane, still the mind,
And simply be the mystery of awareness; the indivisible, indelible, ineffable witness, in all.
Things Which Mr. Just-in-Case Collects
Guns & Ammunition
Archery Equipment
Swords, Knives, Spears
Sundry Other Weapons
Martial Arts gear
Tools and Hardware
Chess & Other Strategy Games
Philosophy books
Military books
Weaponry books
History books
Political Science books
Science books
English language books
Spanish language books
Business books
Quote books
Gaming books
Health books
Cooking books
Exercise books
Resource books
Miscellaneous books
Exercise Gear
Kitchen paraphernalia
Coffee-making paraphernalia
The Great Courses DVD’s
Movie & Television DVD’s
Music CD’s
Backpacking gear
Office supplies
Hats
Dust collectors
Bags of every variety
Alcohol and Drugs
Informational websites
Blog posts
Facebook posts
Interesting article links
Non-followers
A material Peter Pan, to be sure.
A Crunchy-Chewy-Gooey Cosmos
It is a god-eat-god cosmos.
It is a cosmos-eat-cosmos cosmos.
It is a quantum-eat-quantum cosmos.
It is a mystery-eat-mystery cosmos.
It is a You-eat-You cosmos.
The Horrors Ahead
A few lists of all the potential horrors we and our fellow earthlings face:
Climate change
Food
Gender equality
Poverty
Health
Human rights
Water scarcity
Children
Ageing
AIDS
Biodiversity
International law and Justice
Migration
Conflicts
Corruption
Cultural diversity
Environment
Overpopulation
Peace and security
Unemployment
Global Health
Pollution
Education
Nuclear proliferation
Underrated Issues
Whole brain emulation
Wild animal suffering
Safeguarding liberal democracy
Immigration restrictions
Spread of false ideas on social media
Science policy and infrastructure
High-leverage ways to speed up economic growth
Mental health
Top 10 world problems and their solutions
Climate Change
Wars and military conflicts
Water contamination
Human rights violation
Global health issues
Global poverty
Children's poor access to healthcare, education and safety
Access to food and hunger
Our list of the most pressing world problems
Risks from artificial intelligence
Catastrophic pandemics
Nuclear war
Great power war
Climate change
Similarly pressing but less developed areas
Civilization resilience
Suffering risks
Artificial sentience
Promoting positive values
Risks of stable totalitarianism
Space governance
Risks from atomically precise manufacturing
Risks from malevolent actors
Improving individual reasoning and cognition
Problems many of our readers prioritize
Factory farming
Easily preventable or treatable illness
Whole brain emulation
Wild animal suffering
Safeguarding liberal democracy
Immigration restrictions
Spread of false ideas on social media
Science policy and infrastructure
High-leverage ways to speed up economic growth
Mental health
Naught But a Frame of Reference
You can only know your own frame of reference.
And that is but a paltry speck, of all that imagination has created,
To distract (and perchance amuse) the fickle awareness, the source of all eternity,
In any given right-here-right-now, unborn-undying moment,
From its ever-present, blissful quietude.
Imagination v. Awareness
Imagination is a state of becoming; awareness, being.
Imagination is arrogant; awareness, unassuming.
Imagination is effort; awareness, effortless.
Imagination is time; awareness, eternal.
Imagination is binding; awareness, freeing.
No, You Are Not
Whoever,
Whatever,
Whenever,
Wherever,
Whyever,
However,
You imagine your Self to be,
You are not, have never been, will never be.
Supreme Being
What is ‘supreme being’? What does it mean? What does it not mean?
Is it the one and only greatest Supreme Being, ruling over all the Lesser Beings?
Or is it simply … supreme … breathe in … breathe out … being … ?
The True, the False, the Useful
All cultures have mythological stories
That give reason and purpose used to solidify the group identify.
Whether or not they are real, whether or not they are true, does not matter if they connect the herd.
As Seneca wrote: Religion is regarded by the common people as true,
By the wise as false, and by rulers as useful.
A Deaf, Dumb, Blind World
Humanity is mesmerized by all the spiritual fictions devised in its migration across the pale blue dot.
Like the blind men and the elephant, they are unable, unwilling, to fathom the totality of all the partitions.
Thus, they remain bewitched by every variety of tradition, by every conceivable imaginary difference.
Blind to the indelible, ineffable, unquestionable truth, that this mystery is, within and without all.
Regarding Boredom
When next You are whiny-grumbly about how bored stiff You are,
Try to visualize what it was like for your prehistoric ancestors.
Living in the same geography, subsisting with the same tribe.
Hunting and fishing and farming, ingesting the same cuisine.
Sitting around fires, waking, sleeping, as the sun rose and set.
Telling stories, singing songs, beating drums, venerating deities.
Wearing the same garments, sleeping in trees, in caves, in shelters.
Ever tolerating nature’s ebb and flow – hot and cold and wet and dry.
A sharpened stick your only defense in a panorama teeming with predators,
Not yet wary of the human shadow, as it steadily migrated across the pale blue dot.
A Tempest in the Abyss
The human mind, sparked by evolutionary happenstance with sentience, consciousness, imagination,
Has, across this spinning pale blue dot, unleashed an unnatural, irreversible quantum tempest.
A teeny little dust ball, all alone in the abyss, of a mystery oblivious to all its vanities.
A theater jam-packed with idiots, full of sound and fury, signifying nothing.
The Mystery Before Space and Time
The mystery before space and time is mysterious.
The mystery before space and time is ineffable.
The mystery before space and time is tabula rasa.
The mystery before space and time is aware.
The mystery before space and time is still.
The mystery before space and time is indivisible.
The mystery before space and time is momentary.
The mystery before space and time is singular.
The mystery before space and time is indelible.
The mystery before space and time is supreme.
The mystery before space and time is matchless.
The mystery before space and time is now.
The mystery before space and time is sentient.
The mystery before space and time is unfathomable.
The mystery before space and time is inscrutable.
The mystery before space and time is perpetual.
The mystery before space and time is imaginary.
The mystery before space and time is matrix.
The mystery before space and time is flawless.
The mystery before space and time is timeless.
The mystery before space and time is infinite.
The mystery before space and time is infinitesimal.
The mystery before space and time is omnipresent.
The mystery before space and time is serene.
The mystery before space and time is immortal.
The mystery before space and time is pervasive.
The mystery before space and time is omniscient.
The mystery before space and time is mindful.
The mystery before space and time is instantaneous.
The mystery before space and time is quantum.
The mystery before space and time is null.
The mystery before space and time is immaculate.
The mystery before space and time is futile.
The mystery before space and time is everlasting.
The mystery before space and time is unbound.
The mystery before space and time is motionless.
The mystery before space and time is mindless.
The mystery before space and time is clear.
The mystery before space and time is nondualistic.
The mystery before space and time is here.
The mystery before space and time is unbounded.
The mystery before space and time is silent.
The mystery before space and time is graceful.
The mystery before space and time is pure.
The mystery before space and time is unequivocal.
The mystery before space and time is unqualified.
The mystery before space and time is perfect.
The mystery before space and time is nothingness.
The mystery before space and time is total.
The mystery before space and time is complete.
The mystery before space and time is innocent.
The mystery before space and time is truth.
The mystery before space and time is unconditional.
The mystery before space and time is unadulterated.
The mystery before space and time is seamless.
The mystery before space and time is unspoiled.
The mystery before space and time is impeccable.
The mystery before space and time is empty.
The mystery before space and time is entire.
The mystery before space and time is effortless.
The mystery before space and time is first.
The mystery before space and time is oblivion.
The mystery before space and time is last.
The mystery before space and time is whole.
The mystery before space and time is harmonious.
The mystery before space and time is unified.
The mystery before space and time is blameless.
The mystery before space and time is spotless.
The mystery before space and time is sentient.
The mystery before space and time is alert.
The mystery before space and time is void.
The mystery before space and time is unimportant.
The mystery before space and time is all.
The mystery before space and time is none.
The mystery before space and time is inestimable.
The mystery before space and time is indefinable.
The mystery before space and time is extinct.
The mystery before space and time is purposeless.
The mystery before space and time is obscure.
The mystery before space and time is anonymous.
The mystery before space and time is insignificant.
The mystery before space and time is null.
The mystery before space and time is worthless.
The mystery before space and time is unknowable.
The mystery before space and time is naught.
The mystery before space and time is indecipherable.
The mystery before space and time is nameless.
The mystery before space and time is undiscoverable.
The mystery before space and time is useless.
The mystery before space and time is immeasurable.
The mystery before space and time is valueless.
The mystery before space and time is incalculable.
The mystery before space and time is rational.
The mystery before space and time is unutterable.
The mystery before space and time is endless.
The mystery before space and time is impartial.
The mystery before space and time is simple.
The mystery before space and time is straightforward.
The mystery before space and time is natural.
The mystery before space and time is untouched.
The mystery before space and time is imperceptible.
The mystery before space and time is painless.
The mystery before space and time is uncomplicated.
The mystery before space and time is unforced.
The mystery before space and time is untarnished.
The mystery before space and time is ever.
The mystery before space and time is untroubled.
The mystery before space and time is inexplicable.
The mystery before space and time is unstained.
The mystery before space and time is peerless.
The mystery before space and time is emptiness.
The mystery before space and time is indifferent.
The mystery before space and time is ageless.
The mystery before space and time is ineradicable.
The mystery before space and time is irrational.
The mystery before space and time is permanent.
The mystery before space and time is indiscernible.
The mystery before space and time is impalpable.
The mystery before space and time is faultless.
The mystery before space and time is pristine.
The mystery before space and time is mundane.
The mystery before space and time is hollow.
The mystery before space and time is alone.
The mystery before space and time is minimal.
The mystery before space and time is average.
The mystery before space and time is unique.
The mystery before space and time is unspeakable.
The mystery before space and time is unimaginable.
The mystery before space and time is unicity.
The mystery before space and time is whole.
The mystery before space and time is incessant.
The mystery before space and time is inconceivable.
The mystery before space and time is unfastened.
The mystery before space and time is rational.
The mystery before space and time is undeniable.
The mystery before space and time is detached.
The mystery before space and time is unrivaled.
The mystery before space and time is inimitable.
The mystery before space and time is incomparable.
The mystery before space and time is unbiased.
The mystery before space and time is pointless.
The mystery before space and time is unconcerned.
The mystery before space and time is ceaseless.
The mystery before space and time is priceless.
The mystery before space and time is impersonal.
The mystery before space and time is absurd.
The mystery before space and time is aloof.
The mystery before space and time is nonexistent.
The mystery before space and time is interminable.
The mystery before space and time is carefree.
The mystery before space and time is enigmatic.
The mystery before space and time is impenetrable.
The mystery before space and time is unreadable.
The mystery before space and time is incomprehensible.
The mystery before space and time is unintelligible.
The mystery before space and time is meaningless.
The mystery before space and time is inconsequential.
The mystery before space and time is exquisite.
The mystery before space and time is ordinary.
The mystery before space and time is engrained.
The mystery before space and time is intrinsic.
The mystery before space and time is intangible.
The mystery before space and time is solitary.
The mystery before space and time is enduring.
The mystery before space and time is inexpressible.
The mystery before space and time is omnipotent.
The mystery before space and time is tranquil.
The mystery before space and time is free.
The mystery before space and time is sovereign.
The mystery before space and time is unborn.
The mystery before space and time is undying.
The mystery before space and time is absolute.
The mystery before space and time is eternal.
An Imaginary Paradigm
The human paradigm is built upon an imaginary assumption,
Permeated by self-absorption and avarice, that cannot be forever maintained.
All the things it has fathomed and created; all its knowledge, all its linguistics, all its mathematics;
All its histories and politics and traditions and religions and economies and entertainments;
All its scientific and industrial and technological and artistic and athletic spectacles;
And not least, its conception of space-time, usurper of the ethereal moment;
Are but the poof of imagination, believing itself more than imagination;
More than the awareness, the ether, through which all things pass.
Without a relationship with nature, upon which all is rooted,
Humankind is fated to fall into the abyss of its many limitations.
The Problem-Solving-Problem-Making Mind
The mind evolved as a problem-solver,
And when it is without problems,
Endlessly concocts its own.
The challenge is clear.
The Relativity of Individuality
Taste is relative to the individual tongue.
Vision is relative to the individual eye.
Sound is relative to the individual ears.
Smell is relative to the individual nose.
Sensation is relative to the individual skin.
The universe is relative to the individual mind.
This Is It
Nathan Gill nailed it:
This Is It.
This is all there is.
Life appearing as an endless display of changing images,
With no inherent purpose other than this appearance itself.
There is simply life with no one living it.
No Difference Between and Betwixt
Any difference between and betwixt, You and me,
Any difference between and betwixt, You and he,
Any difference between and betwixt, You and she,
Any difference between and betwixt, You and they,
Any difference between and betwixt, You and anything,
Does not ultimately, even for one moment, exist.
Beyond Comprehension
Imagination is ever striving, ever struggling, to be more than it can ever be.
For it to transcend itself, would require an awakening, a wisdom,
Far too unlikely, to even begin to seriously contemplate.
The Make-Believe of Belief
Believing in Santa Claus does not make him real.
Believing in the Great Pumpkin does not make it real.
Believing in the Easter Bunny does not make it real.
Believing in the Tooth Fairy does not make it real.
Believing in Spider Man does not make him real.
Believing in Uncle Sam does not make him real.
Believing in the Calvin does not make him real.
Believing in Peter Pan does not make him real.
Believing in Harvey does not make him real
Believing in the Oz does not make him real.
Believing in Jesus does not make him real.
Believing in God does not make he/she/it real.
A Sea of Moments, All the Same
How long, how short, is a moment?
Is it longer, is it shorter, than a second?
And exactly how much to the left or right,
Of some ever-kaleidoscoping decimal point?
And, are there a sea of them, or the one and only?
Immutable Witness
Places and faces come and go in this ever-kaleidoscoping, mystery-ridden, immutable dreamtime.
There is nothing You can hold onto, nothing You can more than experience, for more than a moment.
All knowledge, and whatever wisdom it gleans, are but wispy clouds passing through the theater of mind.
From birth to death, the unborn-undying awareness You are, is but aloof witness to its eternal passage.
The Ether of Awareness
The awareness is the ether of all intelligence through all creation, all preservation, all destruction.
It is the witness of, the observer of, the watcher of, and participant in, all that is, and all that is not.
That I Am, All Are
I am That I Am.
You are That I Am.
She is That I Am.
He is That I Am.
It is That I Am.
We are That I Am.
They are That I Am.
There is nothing that is not,
That I Am.
The Seven Imaginary Sins
The pride of imagination.
The envy of imagination.
The gluttony of imagination.
The lust of imagination.
The wrath of imagination.
The greed of imagination.
The sloth of imagination.
Seven, count ‘em, seven.
Imaginary from all get-goes.
The Mystery of You
You, alone, are the mystery.
It is your relationship with your Self, which is all.
And what manifests through your mind-body’s sensory input, is the journey.
Chasing Balls
There can be no end to what can be known, before the light sooner or later goes out,
But what point, to the endless pursuit, the endless gathering, of trivia, regarding this illusion?
Is a busy-busy mind, caught up with every distraction, really any different, than a dog chasing a ball?
The Ephemeral Moment
There is no definition, there is no equation, there is no hypothesis, there is no reckoning,
That can encapsulate the mystery of the ever-present timeless moment,
The ever-present timeless mystery of awareness,
To which You, and every other sentient life form, are witness.
Put Them Behind You
Having to choose from a sizable selection of so-called religions,
Concocted by human imagination, and brewed in vanity and avarice, is no choice worth bothering about.
Put them all behind You, and wander alone, as far, as wide, as free, as You dare.
Tapping Into the Inner Eye
Hallucinations and other consciousness-altering substances,
Can be useful in kick-starting the inner eye – That to which all have equal access –
But they are not at all necessary once You have awakened to the unborn-undying, You truly are, are not.
Toying With Endorphins
Life's nature-nurture patterning, is every moment, conditioning itself anew,
With programing of the on-off-plus-minus-positive-negative-attached-detached category.
To consciously manipulate those endorphin mechanisms, is an art, a dance, a whimsy, for those inclined.
The Momentary Awareness
The eternal moment is right here, right now; the eternal awareness is right here, right now.
Imagination is the creator of space and time, and flows through the moment, through the awareness;
Unable to ever grasp anything, as more than a memory, as more than an ephemeral concept.
You are the moment, You are the awareness, You are the totality, You are eternity.
Everything seen and heard and touched and tasted and felt, is but illusion.
Who is the Who?
Who is the who, who sees, or sees not?
Who is the who, who hears, or hears not?
Who is the who, who tastes, or tastes not?
Who is the who, who smells, or smells not?
Who is the who, who feels, or feels not?
Who is the who, who does, or does not?
Who is the who, who thinks, or thinks not?
Who is the who, who is reading this?
The One and Only Moment
Now the one-and-only right-here-right-now moment there is.
There never was a before, and there will never be an after.
The unborn-undying moment is the ever-present verity.
It is an ineffable, unfathomable, indivisible mystery,
In neither need nor want of a mind-made solution.
The Great Jester in the Wings
Imagination is the Great Jester; ever lingering in the wings, for inattention to teleport it centerstage.
The embers of mind gorp, all things absurd, always ready to be fired up, in the furnace of imagination.
Ants on a Dragon
It was not we who were kicked out of Eden, by that deity known by some as God All-Fucking-Mighty.
It was we who abandoned her, manipulated her, abused her, polluted her, scarred her.
For all that we have unremittingly, carelessly, selfishly, imagined.
But we are no more than ants riding a dragon.
Mother Nature, Eden, Gaia, the Cosmos, is still very much in charge.
Awareness Witnessing a Dream
Now the eyes are watching a play.
Now the fingers are feeling an edge.
Now the tongue is tasting a pastry.
Now the ears are hearing a crash.
Now the nose is smelling a rose.
You are not the eyes.
You are not the fingers.
You are not the tongue.
You are not the ears.
You are not the nose.
You are the witness to all.
Bam!
You are the awareness, You are the unborn-undying, You are the ineffable mystery, You are eternity.
Bam!
The Ineffable Moment
You are the infinite, timeless, ineffable moment, stretching across all creation; there is no other.
Mind is creation, mind is preservation, mind is destruction, mind is everything, mind is nothing.
The Worldly Existence v. The Indivisible Reality
The more You involve your imaginary, time-bound, mortal little self, in the mundane world;
The less right-here-right-now moment, for your indivisible Self in the unborn-undying one.
Every moment, a choice.
Only Imagination
Only imagination thinks.
Only imagination reasons.
Only imagination believes.
Only imagination remembers.
Only imagination cogitates.
Only imagination opines.
Only imagination speaks.
Only imagination hears.
Only imagination smells.
Only imagination tastes.
Only imagination touches.
Only imagination organizes.
Only imagination negotiates.
Only imagination governs.
Only imagination follows.
Only imagination composes.
Only imagination counts.
Only imagination draws.
Only imagination paints.
Only imagination sculpts.
Only imagination builds.
Only imagination shapes.
Only imagination constructs.
Only imagination develops.
Only imagination creates.
Only imagination preserves.
Only imagination destroys.
Only imagination does anything.
Only imagination does everything.
Despite the fact, that time is not real,
There is no human paradigm without it.
The Rabbit Hole of Fate
It is natural selection, not free will.
Since Creation’s unknowable beginning, there has never been any such thing as free will in the algorithm.
A right or left turn, naturally-selects the next turn, and that the next, and that the next.
You naturally-select your Self down the rabbit hole of your fate.
Every organism naturally-selects its Self, down the rabbit hole of its fate.
An eternal dance, across an infinite quantum matrix, ever and ever kaleidoscoping.
And through it all, the awareness You are, is eternal witness, to all that sentience has designed.
Impunity
Spouting this sort of drivel is what got he-who-shall-not-be-named hung out to die way back when.
How fortunate we of current issue are, who speak out with impunity, with little dread of consequence,
In this relatively freer moment, in those all too rare geographies, that, oft-times regretfully allow it.
You, Its Dreamer
You do not have to like someone, to sit by them, or walk beside them,
Or work with them, or be in the same friggin’ cosmos with them.
Nobody is at all like You, nor will anyone likely ever want to be like You.
You are on your own – five senses, a brain, and the theater– kaleidoscoping ever on.
Eternal awareness, in what seems an impromptu walkabout-wander, through space, through time.
Through your unfathomable, indivisible, indelible, ineffable, eternal matrix.
It is but a temporal dream, and You, its dreaming.
Imagine your Self, in all.
Life Skills 101
Attitude is all.
Learn to naturally release the hormones.
The happy chemistry – dopamine, serotonin, endorphins, oxytocin.
Simple lifestyle changes – diet, exercise, meditation – are conscious means to a more bearable existence.
It is not always a beautiful world, but the mind-body need not suffer for it.
God’s Wrath Personified
You just threatened to send me to Hell, for not believing in your absurd bullshit, thanks.
Yup, yup, yup, we sure know what kind of supreme-deity horror show You would paint.
Sweet Surrender
Surrender to the unknowable.
Surrender to the indivisible.
Surrender to the nameless.
Surrender to the spaceless.
Surrender to the timeless.
Surrender to the moment.
Surrender to the totality.
Surrender to the infinite.
Surrender to the indelible.
Surrender to the ineffable.
Surrender to the inexplicable.
Surrender to the unborn-undying.
And know You are That I Am, You are the One.
Superstitious Absurdity
How did such superstitious absurdity become our limiting factor?
How did our quest for food and water and shelter and space,
How did natural selection’s tack into the realm of imagination,
Become so sullied, so pathetic, in our conquest of the pale blue dot.
Touching God
Touch that which is God, by immersing into the infinite beingness within.
Into the spacelessness, into the timelessness, permeating all.
Into the unfathomable mystery, You are.
Bokononism
Bokononism: A religion built on lies and absurdity and irony.
Finally, a no-card-no-dogma-no-congregation faith that makes sense.
scratches made in a black, gummy impasto.
[o]ne of the oldest games there is.
It means whatever it means.
'See the cat? […] See the cradle?'
~ Newt Hoenikker ~
Cat’s Cradle, Kurt Vonnegut
* * * * * * * * * *
So it goes.
~ Tralfamadorian Proverb ~
Poo-tee-weet?
~The Bird ~
Slaughterhouse Five, Kurt Vonnegut
Hollow Speculation
God may have created this théâtre de l’absurde dreamtime,
But who or what created that omnipresent-omnipotent-omniscient being?
Call it genesis, call it creation, call it big bang, call it turtles-all-the-way-up-all-the-way-down,
It all started somewhere, somehow, but can any claim, any assertion,
Really be more than hollow speculation?
A Particle of Dust
Mother Earth, is just another spinning particle of dust, in the vastness of your imagination.
Stay Strong, Rotsa Ruck
My gift to the dystopian future-slash-debacle, that I envision, with a shudder.
Do with it whatever You will; do with it whatever You can.
Sadly, better You than me, is all I gotta say.
Stay strong, rotsa ruck.
The Ineffable Moment
This moment is ineffable, so very ineffable.
By definition, what is unknowable, can never be known.
An agreeable breath, is as good as it gets, so, breathe, kiddo, breathe.
Transcending Space and Time
The finite mind transcends space and time whenever it yields itself to awareness.
The Microsoft Word thesaurus suggests words like effortlessness, simplicity,
Naturalness, smoothness, facility, ease, confidence, grace, to illustrate it.
To be the moment, is to be what You truly are, what You truly are not.
A Singular Kind of Faith
The truest, most eloquent faith, is a singular kind of faith.
It is a faith that accepts what the moment offers.
It is a faith that engages the moment fully.
It is a faith that values the intuitive.
It is a faith that has no bounds.
It is a faith that withstands one’s fate.
It is a faith that embraces the eternal mystery.
A spaceless faith.
A timeless faith.
An intelligent faith.
A perceptive faith.
A fearless faith.
A relative faith.
A stoic faith.
A moderate faith.
A harmless faith.
An instinctual faith.
A frugal faith.
A resilient faith.
An insightful faith.
A lawless faith.
A penetrating faith.
A shrewd faith.
A flexible faith.
A benevolent faith.
A rational faith.
A boundless faith.
A natural faith.
An abiding faith.
An enduring faith.
An austere faith.
A freeing faith.
An independent faith.
A sharing faith.
A scientific faith.
An agnostic faith.
A discerning faith.
A spontaneous faith.
A watchful faith.
A virtuous faith.
An eternal faith.
An inquiring faith.
A giving faith.
A clear faith.
A grateful faith.
A responsive faith.
A sensible faith.
A reasonable faith.
A forgiving faith.
An innocent faith.
An ironic faith.
A paradoxical faith.
A sane faith.
A mindful faith.
A balanced faith.
A wise faith.
A healthy faith.
A lucid faith.
An astute faith.
A prudent faith.
A judicious faith.
A sagacious faith.
An erudite faith.
A mu faith.
An unknowable faith.
A gnostic faith.
An esoteric faith.
A mystical faith.
A spiritual faith.
A real faith.
A hidden faith.
A soul faith.
An allegorical faith.
A symbolic faith.
An amoral faith.
A fortuitous faith.
A casual faith.
An impromptu faith.
An unprincipled faith.
An elegant faith.
A chaste faith.
A refined faith.
An essential faith.
A faithful faith.
A gentle faith.
A quiet faith.
A solitary faith.
A calm faith.
A placid faith.
A humble faith.
A modest faith.
An unpretentious faith.
An ordinary faith.
An unassuming faith.
A deep faith.
A kind faith.
A godless faith.
A wholistic faith.
A diverse faith.
An atypical faith.
A sightless faith.
A tasteless faith.
An odorless faith.
A soundless faith.
A touchless faith.
A faith beyond all bounds.
Awakening to the Eternal Fact
When would I … Why should I … How could I …
Ever convince You, who-what-why-when-where-how, I am,
But through your own awakening to the eternal fact.
A Placid Dream
The last desire is craving nothing, so badly, You can no longer taste it.
The pond, unruffled by wind or ripple, is a solitary, placid dream, indeed.
Thoughts A-Bubbling Away
Have always had a relativistic aptitude for relishing process.
For accepting things as they are, for accepting things as they come.
Perhaps because I was raised in a rural setting, in tune with nature’s fluidity.
Came from modest roots that never really expected or wanted that much out of life.
Tried to fan the fire in the belly as a business major out of college, but the spark never took.
The path of least resistance blew into my sail, and here I am, pondering the show.
Attentively writing down the so-many thoughts that bubble into mind.
Turtles-All-the-Way-Up-Turtles-All-the-Way-Down
Call it genesis, call it creation., call it big bang.
Call it a wall, a spear, a snake, a tree, a fan, a rope.
Call it turtles-all-the-way-up-turtles-all-the-way-down.
All are equally magical, equally fantastical, equally hypothetical, equally speculative,
And only demonstrate again and again, no one can ever know,
More than what imagination imagines.
Call It Whatever You Will
Some brand it, Brahman; some brand it, God.
Others, Buddha or Tao or Jehovah or Great Spirit or Whatever.
I call it the Mystery; the Mystery of the all in one, the Mystery of the one in all.
And no one need suffer any consequence, any punishment, any forfeit,
For granting it whatever name, or no-name, they are inclined.
No need for absurdity steeped in imaginary notion.
None can know how all this is happening.
Even the rumored supreme deity,
Witnesses in ignorance.
Agnostics, Atheists, True-Believers
Agnosticism – doubt, nonbelief – is the most pragmatic stance.
Atheists waste their time quarreling with true-believers,
About imaginary notions neither can never know.
Abiding in momentary stasis is the most intangible way.
A Little Dab’ll Do Ya
Do not feel like You must spend a lot of time deciphering all these thoughts.
Have used my website and Facebook and Blogger and other online tools and toys,
As scrapbooks to record all the wanders and thoughts, and other creations and memories.
Way too much, for anyone with anything better to do, with any sort of life, to even bother about.
An Everything-Eat-Everything Cosmos
It is a god-eat-god cosmos.
It is a cosmos-eat-cosmos cosmos.
It is a quantum-eat-quantum cosmos.
It is a mystery-eat-mystery cosmos.
It is a You-eat-You cosmos.
It is a radio waves-eat-radio waves cosmos.
It is a microwaves-eat-microwaves cosmos.
It is an infrared-eat-infrared cosmos.
It is a visible light-eat-visible light spectrum cosmos.
It is an ultraviolet-eat-ultraviolet cosmos.
It is an X-rays-eat-X-rays cosmos.
It is a gamma rays-eat-gamma rays cosmos.
It is an electromagnetic spectrum-eat-electromagnetic spectrum cosmos.
It is an everything-eat-everything cosmos; abide as best ye may in the crunchy-chewy-gooey.
Know Your Limits
Imagination imagines time.
Imagination imagines forever.
Imagination imagines it is forever.
Imagination has a lot to realize.
The Moment’s Illusion Delusion
The You, You think You are; the self, You pretend to be, is nothing more than ephemeral trickery.
Nothing more than a neural network’s capricious collection of sensory-induced perceptions.
An imaginary fiction, that is but the quantum matrix, kaleidoscoping every given moment.
Nothing more than a vast illusion; the electromagnetic spectrum’s evolutionary deception.
Biological happenstance meandering a touchy-feely dreamtime of naturally selected design.
All played out in the unfathomable awareness; the spaceless, the timeless, the ineffable totality.
The unseeing, who ever quarrel over the elephant, see only walls, spears, snakes, trees, fans, ropes.
Some call it, God; some, Brahman; some, Tao; some, Allah; some, Great Spirit; all, the same mystery.
So, the human paradigm duels towards its destiny, battling over differences, chiseled only in imagination.
The Rise, the Decline, the Fall
The geeks and their minions have played central role,
In the rise, the decline, the fall, of the anthropoid paradigm.
From the first fire, to unleashing the power of the quantum cosmos.
They have pushed, have pulled, the planet of the apes through a dreamtime,
The likes of which this pale blue dot, this spinning speck, will never witness again.
It is a sigh of an anecdote the abyss will have long forgotten by the time nobody reads this.
Not Long Ago
Not long ago, there was no imagination.
Not long ago, there was no beginning.
Not long ago, there was no ending.
Not long ago, there was no language.
Not long ago, there was no knowledge.
Not long ago, there was no education.
Not long ago, there was no tribe.
Not long ago, there was no identity.
Not long ago, there was no culture.
Not long ago, there was no tradition.
Not long ago, there was no politics.
Not long ago, there was no religion.
Not long ago, there was no art.
Not long ago, there was no music.
Not long ago, there was no history.
Not long ago, there was no philosophy.
Not long ago, there was no agriculture.
Not long ago, there was no industry.
Not long ago, there was no technology.
Not long ago, there was no commerce.
Not long ago, there was no mathematics,
Not long ago, there was no science.
Not long ago, there was no medicine.
Not long ago, there was no architecture.
Not long ago, there was no civilization.
Not long ago, there was no human paradigm.
Not long ago, there was nothing but a garden flowering.
Not long ago, there was nothing but an abyss, an awareness, a serenity.
It is still there, in the You, You are.
A Sheep by Any Other Name Would Baa the Same
Why in any deity’s name, would You feel compelled,
To be a follower, to be a sheep, in some charlatan’s flock?
How absurd to allow any middleman dominion over your true Self.
Take a Sit, Take a Walk
Seek out a bodhi tree,
Go out into some desert,
Climb up to a mountain peak,
Sit in corner in your living room,
Or take long ambles around the world,
And do whatever comes to mind,
Until You maybe figure it out.
There are no guarantees,
Only a mystery in all.
Burn, Baby, Burn
Let the cosmos,
Let the matrix,
Let the mystery,
Burn within You.
Slaving Away
Slave to the man.
Slave to the system.
Slave to the world.
Slave to the universe.
Slave to the matrix.
Slave to the mystery.
Long live Sisyphus.
Ethereal Perceptions
What You call your life is really nothing more,
Than an ethereal array of chemically-induced perceptions.
A frame of reference, from which imagination gauges a quantum illusion,
Born of merely five senses – sight, smell, hearing, taste, touch –
Plugged into a gooey vat of neurons, encased in a skull.
Assumptions beyond counting, are requisite.
Keeps imagination very busy, indeed.
God’s Chosen
You imagined God,
And he/she/it in all his/her/its divine mercy and wisdom,
Chose You and your tribe in return.
How providential.
How convenient.
How ridiculous.
How so it goes.
Easter Island Redux
Just another Easter Island.
This round on a global scale.
A bit longer timetable, to be sure,
But all too predictable, nonetheless.
Be happy You will not have to endure it.
Oh, for a Rewind Button
Do You not wish You could advise your younger self,
To slow down a bit, or even hold off completely,
On some of the choices You were making?
Where is that fucking rewind button?
The Whys and Wherefores of Natural Selection
Memory evolved because awareness could not remember anything,
And that was a bit dangerous for critters naturally-selecting survival.
Slow Night in a Bar
A tortoise, a snail, and a sloth, were sitting in a bar ...
Who Judges Who?
In the spectrum, right to wrong,
Who is right? Who is wrong?
And who does the judging?
Inner Death, Eternal Life
From inner death, springs eternal life.
The Boundaries of Imagination
No one can ever know more than what imagination imagines.
Prior to Pyramid Schemes
The rural class, the working class – and any other classes in the pyramid schemes of caste systems –
Have a lot to learn from the upper class, and the upper class, a great deal to realize about its foundation.
A Shakespearian World
A world of dreams, an impromptu play, a Shakespearian festival,
Playing upon all stages, in all times, across this spinning pale blue dot.
A ceaseless, ever-mutating reverie, since the origin of language, so long ago.
In every mind, in every body, no matter the naturally-selected, nature-nurture role,
An award-winning thespian, playing their imaginary part, so earnestly, so believably well.
The Illusory Other
What dreamtime could there be, without the illusory other, and all its forms and functions?
Just Reward
Relying on absurdity for your worldview will get You the charlatan You deserve.
Be Wary of the Man of One Book
Thomas Aquinas … hominem unius libri timeo … I fear the man of a single book.
How easy to imagine your book the greatest story ever told, when it is the only one You have ever read.
The Irony of the Spiritual Quest
Every sentient life form has its own version of a world, of a universe; none the same.
The spiritual quest is ultimately a nonsensical nonissue, inspired by fear of the unknowable.
What a different pale blue dot it might well be, if the young were raised to be one with all things.
It might have lent a pause to the absurd destruction and mayhem our kind has wreaked across the world.
Alas that narcissism and hedonism have such a callous grip upon this imaginary-laden moment.
This quantum matrix, permeated by awareness; consciousness nothing more than noise.
A Well-Waxed Slide
Covid-19 rocked this our modern world, and has spun the human paradigm into a new phase.
We have passed through the apex as far as the masses go; it will be down the bell curve from here on out.
Factor in all the other Petri dish Earth issues, and add in perpetual proxy wars, trade wars,
Beyond-the-pale technologies, artificial intelligence, and the slide waxes itself.
What to do, where to live, who to align with, are anybody's guess.
Oh, for a time machine to witness the decline and fall.
Oblivion calls, each and every moment.
The Moment’s Grace
Freedom.
Redemption.
Salvation.
Deliverance.
Rescue.
Liberation.
Emancipation.
Recovery.
Abandon.
Apology.
Acceptance.
Gratitude.
Benevolence.
Escape.
Discharge.
Release.
Grace.
Are the moment.
A Fabrication of Imagination
Identity is an imaginary construct.
A dream of awareness, of streaming reality.
A fabrication to which imagination resolutely fastens.
It requires the greatest courage of spirit to fathom the moment.
The No-Rewind of Regret
There are different levels, different intensities of regret, that take place in any given life.
There are the ones that come about because You somehow said or did something that ruined a relationship.
Or the unavoidable accidents that irrevocably change or impact your health and wellbeing.
But if we are talking about the large choices that are about one’s final destiny,
In that, life’s great challenge is to have no regrets, whatsoever.
To depart content, is the brass ring of dreamtime.
I, Rebel
I seem to have been chosen by the Fates to pen this aphoristic work.
And without thought, without hesitation, I accepted the task.
And have kaleidoscoped this imaginary dreamtime,
Ever soaking up, the reference to scribe it.
This vocation, is a very ubiquitous,
Long ‘n wearing ‘n slogging,
Ever-on-and-on-and-on,
Naturally-selected,
Nature-nurtured,
Very laid-back,
Damn the torpedoes,
Full speed ahead, approach.
All just to fathom the mystery in all.
A Long and Winding Road
Imagination most certainly has conveyed our kind,
And the entire world about us, and every diversity of creature,
Down a long and winding road of profound ecstasy and merciless agony.
Game Theory
Not a good idea to play any game, unless You really know the rules, and are really paying attention.
The Nebulous Mind
… Another day in the nebulous …
… Unclear, vague, imprecise, hazy, unformulated, tenuous, indefinable …
… me-myself-and-I of mind …
Facing the Moment
Sometimes, You tip-toe-through-the-tulips, through it.
Sometimes, You chop-chop-slice-dice, through it,
Fast or slow, as the given moment subscribes,
In all born into this imagined dreamtime.
Contentment: The Brass Ring
Have had more than plethora of adventures.
Plenty of fine dining and sundry other.
Much easier to stay home anymore.
Have far more things than I need, debt-free.
Contentment is the brass ring, and it is on the mantle.
You Only Know Now
You only are now, not the imaginary who.
You only are now, not the imaginary what.
You only are now, not the imaginary when.
You only are now, not the imaginary where.
You only are now, not the imaginary why.
You only are now, not the imaginary how.
You only are now, not the imaginary you.
You are now … You are awareness … You are mystery … You are eternity.
Or so You imagine.
The Wiley Chameleon
All the mistakes, all the blunders, that You have made! How is it, that You are still alive?
How is it, that none seem to have had raison d'être enough, to pursue revenge?
To walk freely, without dread of the knife twisting in the back,
Is surely the triumph of any wily chameleon.
Contrary to All Imaginary Notion
All imaginary notion to the contrary, You are not your frame of reference.
The Crystal Ball
A lot of humans, in a lot of arenas, in whatever timeless remains,
Are going to be living in tents, or on pieces of cardboard,
Pushing carts, collecting treasure, for sale or barter.
The Illusion of Space and Time
Monday’s started, Monday’s done.
Tuesday’s started, Tuesday’s done.
Wednesday’s started, Wednesday’s done.
Thursday’s started, Thursday’s done.
Friday’s started, Friday’s done.
Saturday’s started, Saturday’s done.
Sunday’s started, Sunday’s done.
On and on, the calendar pages turn and turn again.
… seconds, minutes, hours, days, months, years, decades, centuries, millennia, epochs …
Ever tick-tick-ticking the kaleidoscoping cycles of sun and moon and cosmos.
Concepts of space and time, that are not, and have never been real.
All nothing more than the illusion of the mind-body,
Sculpted by the play of natural selection,
Born of a magical mystery.
The Ultimate Answer
When it comes to answering the ultimate questions, when it comes to answering the ultimate question,
Science is as blind and deaf and dumb as any other philosophy imagination has ever conceived.
Though it can endlessly observe and experiment, and forever hypothesize and theorize,
It is all the same old hearsay; there is no knowing how this mystery came to be.
One must lucidly scrutinize the awareness, until they are the awareness.
And with that agnostic state, they will simply have to be satisfied.
The unknown is unknowable, and that is just the way it is.
Oh well, so it goes, deal with it, get over it, move on.
Play your imaginary little part, as best ye are able,
And die, alone and ignorant, same as everything else.
The existential morass, will ever be an existential morass.
What It Boils Down To
The human paradigm all boils down to vanity and greed.
A cancer chewing on its mother and each other
Until there is nothing left to chew on.
It is all how and when, not if.
The Sword of Discernment
There are plusses and minuses to any given scenario, any given plan.
Any given idea, strategy, proposal, plot, design, blueprint, scheme, sketch.
It is in how they are gauged, that the sword pares the final discernment.
And in that discernment, destiny scribes itself in the quantum sands.
What is Love?
Is the love, that that so easily turns to hatred, ever really love?
Is it ever really anything more than imagination given over to enchantment?
Is it really anything more than another round of the mind bent toward tribalistic notion?
Is the ideal we label love, anything more than feel-good chemistry, slathered with imaginary notion?
A Drop in the Boundless Ocean
You are but a drop of indivisible awareness in the immeasurable ocean of this ineffable mystery.
The ultimate nature that all manifestation is, is eternally spaceless, eternally timeless.
Without attributes, without direction, without purpose, without meaning, without contradiction.
Savor and endure the ecstasies and agonies of your ephemeral existence while breath allows the synthesis.
Hammering Away
This is how the American-English language uses me to hammer at its forge.
All You Are Not
You are not your ever-morphing container,
Nor anything it has ever thought or done.
You are not your video of life experiences.
You are not your trainload of vague memories.
You are not your vocation or hobbies or opinions.
You are not your bulky encyclopedia of trivial pursuits.
You are not your unwieldy bag of values, a.k.a., judgments.
And neither, despite all appearances to the contrary, is anyone else.
A Corollary of Yaj Ekim
René Descartes:
I think, therefore I am.
Yaj Ekim's Corollary:
I think, therefore I think I am.
I imagine, therefore I imagine I am.
You imagine, therefore You imagine You are.
And right-here-right-now, we all are, imagining we all, in space-time are.
An unborn-undying, unrehearsed, Shakespearian theater,
For as long as imagination draws breath.
Your Little Window
You got a good roll out of your little window of illusion.
And what happens after You are departed, after You are again ashes and dust,
Is nothing You can do anything about, any more than You could while You were here a-breathing.
Nature-Nurturing the Tabula Rasa
What would that tabula-rasa infant-child-adult be,
If no sense of self was – engrained, imbedded, ensconced, rooted –
By the nature-nurture world, in which it was niched.
What It Is, What It Is Not
It is whatever it is; it is whatever it is not.
You are whatever it is; You are whatever it is not.
The game is not letting imagination get the better of You.
The Irony, the Paradox
Try not to confuse who You think You are,
With what You are, have ever been, will ever be.
With what You are not, have never been, will never be.
My Contribution
This is this lifetime’s contribution to the human paradigm.
Take it or leave it; please try not to hurt or kill anyone over it.
Please do not make it into some creed, it was never meant to be.
You can thank me, or scourge me, as befits the endgame’s narration.
The Point and Purpose
Is a blow job really a form of eating-your-young cannibalism?
And not necessarily a bad thing for the big bang it gives the lucky recipient.
But not something that will continue naturally-selecting away,
The point and purpose of the sexual act itself.
You are not here, dreaming away,
Because other options were not available.
The Storytellers
First story.
His story.
Her story.
Its story.
My story.
Your story.
Their story.
Our story.
A story.
The story.
Null story.
Mu story.
All stories.
Last story.
No stories.
My View of Punctuation
A period is a stop.
A comma, a pause.
A hyphen, a connector.
A semi-colon, a deviation.
A question mark, an uncertainty.
An exclamation mark, an interruption.
A parenthesis, an enclosure.
A bracket, a cell.
The Fall of Eden
Before imagination and language coupled,
Our ancestors were all alone in their clannish consortiums.
Completely unaware, oblivious, to any other version the jungle but their own.
And from the moment sound morphed into the first concept,
The human paradigm departed the garden.
And the world shuddered.
God, in a Nutshell
How could God create all this, without being all of it, all the while?
Pay Close Attention
Look at a clock.
Notice how the hands move.
And You do not.
Eyes and Ears
Me and all the other seers,
Churning out the same memorandum,
To the rare few fated with eyes to see, ears to hear.
A Good Roll
Got a good roll out of my little window of illusion.
And what happens after I am departed, after I am ashes and dust,
Is nothing I can do anything about, any more than I could while in the flesh.
What Need for Worship?
The so-called spiritual quest is ultimately a nonsensical nonissue,
Inspired by imagination’s fear of, and curiosity about, the unknowable unknown.
The right here, the right now –now-ing away –in this very timeless moment.
The same awareness in every sentient being’s mystery-born creation.
No need to worship what You already are.
You honor it by being it.
A higher state of worship cannot be known.
You Are Prior to All
You are the mystery.
You are the awareness.
You are prior to consciousness.
You are prior to the quantum matrix.
You are prior to the moment.
You are prior to all.
No Touching the Awareness
You can explore and dance the quantum theater,
As much as You please, for as long as the mind-body allows,
But You will never touch, not even once, the awareness permeating all.
The Awakeness of All Sentience
Awareness is the ‘awakeness’ of all sentience, of all creation, small to great.
The ‘awakeness’ of the indelible, indivisible quantum matrix; of stardust, come unto ‘life’.
It is the eternal eye of the unknown, prior to all manifestation ever-changing,
And whatever dreams, they in spontaneous combustion, inspire.
The Point of All This Chitchat
All this philosophical chitchat, is not at all about yet another absurd, idolatrous belief system.
It is about the very real, very much in the moment, prior-to-consciousness awareness, You truly are.
There is nobody to follow, there is no confining dogmatic groupthink, there is no transaction fee.
All any need do, is pay attention to the given moment, as the mystery kaleidoscopes ever on.
It is very much a solitary mosey for those who have the wit and strength to stand alone.
It is very much an agnostic, existential stance, requiring no fallacious conclusions.
All one needs do, is be as free as the imaginary mind and mortal vessel allow.
Where Oh Where?
Where in the moment does time reside?
Where in the moment does existence reside?
Where in the moment does knowledge reside?
Where in the moment does imagination reside?
Where in the moment does the cosmos reside?
Where in the moment does quantum reside?
Where in the moment does mind reside?
Where in the moment do You reside?
Beyond All Comprehension
Whether or not, there was a beginning to all beginnings,
Whether or not, there will be an end to all ends,
Even deities-on-high vainly wonder.
That Mystery Which You Are
There is only one dimension, only one matrix, only one quantum sea.
And who knows how many universes, envisioned by how many sentient creations.
Indelible, indivisible, unfathomable, ineffable, within that infinity, which herein is called mystery.
That awareness, which is harbor to all potentials, that which is witness to all eternity.
That which is eternity; that which is You, prior to all things quantum.
The World is Your Pearl
What in your cosmos, in your lifetime walkabout,
Has not taught You many somethings about this mystery?
Has not brought You to this singular moment of eternal reflection?
You are reading this, because the seeds of Self were planted in your destiny.
What more is there to do, but wander aimlessly for whatever dreamtime is proffered.
Fulfilling your moment, with whatever calls, in the serendipity ahead.
Be Here, Be Now
You are the mystery.
You are the sentience.
You are the awareness.
You are the infinite.
You are the infinitesimal.
You are the indivisible.
You are the ineffable.
You are the indelible.
You are the ineffaceable.
You are the immaculate.
You are the unfathomable.
You are the spaceless.
You are the timeless.
You are the totality.
You are the absolute.
You are the omniscient.
You are the omnipresent.
You are the omnipotent.
You are the creator.
You are the preserver.
You are the destroyer.
You are the witness.
You are the matrix.
You are this right here.
You are this right now.
You are the moment.
You are the eternal.
You were never born.
You will never die.
Be here, be now.
The Unifying Principal
The totality is very much entirely awake, within and without, prior to all priors, beyond all beyonds.
All physics theories only vainly attempt to encapsulate the illusory quantum matrix.
The unifying principal is not some scholarly chalkboard equation.
Nor is it a symbol; nor is it a pithy statement.
It is the one and only moment.
It is the indefinable, ineffable mystery.
It is the timeless awareness, the right-here-right-now.
It is the sentience, the wakefulness, the alertness, the attentiveness,
Pervading the ether through which earth-wind-water-fire every moment kaleidoscope.
The Seed of Doubt
None can point the way to those who lack the seed of doubt.
The One in All, the All in One
It is not your mystery, or my mystery.
It is not your awareness, or my awareness.
It is not your moment, or my moment.
It is not your dream, or my dream.
It is not your Gaia, or my Gaia.
It is our mystery, our awareness, our moment, our dream, our Gaia.
An Agnostic Stance
Vain collusions aside, how can anyone truly know,
Whether or not there is some supreme deity or deities on high?
Truly, an agnostic stance is the most rational any mind can hope to achieve.
If there is more to it than meets the sensory field, fine; if it is just a one-trick pony, fine.
The challenge before all, is to play out their given dreamtime, as well as their temporal destinies allow.
If there is more to it, You will know soon enough; if not, so it goes, ta-ta forever more.
Discerning the Moment
When You truly discern that none of it ultimately real or lasting,
You will find desire and fear and dread, no longer govern the day-to-day.
That the dreamtime of the prior-to-consciousness awareness is timeless, changeless.
The You saturated in every variety of limitation born of the given nature-nurture conditioning,
Becomes the indivisible, unborn-undying You; that which is prior to all conception.
Not necessarily an easier dream, but one that offers greater detachment.
Nothing Has Ever Been the Same
This moment is no different than it has ever been, in any ever then.
Nor will it ever be at all different in any ever future when.
In truth, nothing has ever been, exactly the same.
Vanish into the awareness, the sentience,
And be the You, You truly are.
Be Right Here, Be Right Now
You are the mystery.
You are the moment.
You are the sentience.
You are the awareness.
You are the indivisible.
You are this right here.
You are this right now.
You are the ineffable.
You were never born.
You will never die.
Be here, be now.
The Awareness of the Totality
The cosmos is very much aware, within and without, prior to all priors, beyond all beyonds.
We Got It Covered
No doubt there is more than likely-probably some sound or two for that thingamajig, too.
You see it, You hear it, You taste it, You smell it, You feel it, You imagine it – we got it covered.
No thingamabob, gizmo, doodad, doohickey, widget, whatsit, thingummy, hoojamaflip, goes without.
The True Church
Awareness is the true church.
In its temple, its chapel, its cathedral, its basilica, its minster, its synagogue, its mosque, its cave;
In the rectory of the mystery’s eternal solitude,
You are.
The Choiceless Choice
The choiceless choice is yours to compose, yours to marshal.
Persevere according to your own self-absorbed volition,
With all the afflictions consciousness encompasses.
Or give yourself over to the dimensionless presence of Self,
Your true nature, the inexplicable essence of all that is, of all that is not.
The Indifferent Moment
Eternity, the moment, the timeless now, is indifferent to your imaginary absurdities.
How It All Seems to Moi
How it all seems to moi, is what these many thoughts, these many titles, are about.
Whether or not, they are anything the dreamtime’s future, will be in any way interested,
Is nothing this mind’s vanity, can more than pipe-smoking speculate, in its dystopian musings.
Martyrdom’s Futility
Martyrdom is something for which most are likely ill-suited.
Rest assured, when it gets down to the brassiest of tacks,
When it gets down to a choice between You and them,
Few people will give a rat’s furred ass about You,
Any more than You do about most all of them.
True selflessness, without a hint of vanity;
How rare is that, upon this Planet of the Apes?
What is Freedom?
What are the attributes of freedom?
The freedom to do what You please.
The freedom to say what You please.
The freedom to view what You please.
The freedom to think what You please.
The freedom to explore what You please.
The freedom to wander where You please.
The freedom to allow what You please.
The freedom to be what You please.
The freedom to be full.
The freedom to be empty.
The freedom to not be at all.
The Incorruptible Awareness
When You see what You truly are, what You truly are not,
What remains but the ineffable awareness,
Untainted by dreamtime.
An Imaginary Existence
The awareness of existence, the moment, is too ethereal to be more than imagined.
The Stillborn of Duality
No word, no symbol, no ritual, no tradition, no prophet, no deity, is sacred to the ultimate.
Self-interest breeds a logic screened through too many filters to be at all predictable.
Avoid moral dilemmas and quagmires; good and evil are the stillborn of duality.
Eternal Freedom
Nature-nurture frames every mind to play out one dream-identity or another.
In discerning this truth, the secular mind can be recalibrated,
Into the eternal mind, into the eternal life.
Eternal freedom is an ageless walkabout unto thy Self.
Forbidden Fruit
The fruit of knowledge was never forbidden by any supreme deity.
It is just humankind’s naturally-selected choiceless destiny,
To imagine its way to its inevitable self-destruction.
The Unbidden Fate
Though all that is, is the indivisibility of the quantum dreamtime,
Few clearly discern the ever-present, unborn-undying state.
Many are called, few are chosen, fewer still volunteer.
Marooned in Illusion
It is but a world-wide collusion of imagination.
Every mind a unique spin of its nature-nurtured frame of reference.
All hypnotized, all mesmerized, by a dreamtime reality, only the rarest minds can discern,
And even they are swept up in this delusional, Shakespearian, théâtre de l’absurde.
This whirling-twirling pale blue dot, upon which we all are marooned.
The Daily Wander
Another day of rambling the quantum fever.
Bantering with your Self in whatever nooks and crannies are wandered.
Talking about, kicking around, hashing out, thrashing out, chewing over, every variety of this and that,
Learning and unlearning every rank of mind gorp, that death will someday wash away,
No matter how profound or clever, no matter how astute or shrewd.
The Clarity of Awareness
Toss out the watches and clocks and calendars, and digital displays, from your mind.
Dwell in the clarity of the timeless awareness of the ineffable unborn-undying moment.
Dusty Puffery
To believe this dusty cosmos really matters, is but ironic delusion,
In the paradoxical puffery of the quantum matrix’s théâtre de l’absurde.
The Sons and Daughters of God
Why believe only one son of God ever walked on earth,
When so many sons, and daughters, are wandering about.
The Pathless Trek
Human consciousness is always imagining itself more than it can ever be.
It is not through words, through labels, through descriptions,
That kinks in any given mind will be worked out.
Meditation of the zen-ish sort, is the only real therapy,
For those who would be free of imagination’s unrelenting tyranny.
Contemplation, reflection, consideration, introspection, rumination, concentration,
Deliberation, pondering, musing, are the ways and means, along the earnest seeker’s pathless trek.
A Gift to the Future
I have done my best with this work,
To leave something that is as great a vision,
As this mind-body and linguistic aptitude can muster.
As great a revelation as technology and times for a time allow.
Attempting in so many ways to fashion it nondualistically all-inclusive.
Something that will worm its way through the harsh age ahead,
Into a more rational, equitable, notion of humankind,
And its relationship with the natural world,
And the mystery that is source to all.
And to always try to remember,
That it is not at all about,
The little me who put it into play.
Rather, the big me, who is the You in all.
Best wishes, rotsa ruck, and apologies for the world we left You.
Eternity, Centerstage
A Shakespearian theater.
You, perpetuity's ineffable thespian.
Intangible, indelible, indivisible, unborn-undying.
Playing every part, every moment, to incomparable perfection.
On every impromptu centerstage, no matter the exterior, no matter the interior,
It is all about the same You.
False Expectations
If You expect someone who abides in a boundless state,
To behave in some prescribed manner, some ordained fashion,
That is your own assumption, your own projection, your own delusion.
And You may well be disappointed, frustrated, annoyed, seething, even enraged,
Or worse yet, succumb to yet another mesmerizing, nonsensical groupthink.
Another inconsequential bottleneck created by timebound imagination.
Is it any wonder, really, why so many seers disappear into caves,
Very much alone, very much at home, very much at peace.
True Believers, All
We are all are true believers.
Each in our own personalized mind-body-spirit ways.
Conditioned, persuaded, convinced, programmed, brainwashed, indoctrinated, molded.
Hypnotized, mesmerized, spellbound, captivated, enthralled, absorbed,
By whatever nature-nurture has spawned and cultivated us.
The senses crafting our imaginary universes,
Every kaleidoscoping moment.
Only in pure, unsullied awareness, can You be free.
Yes, We Are All the Same You
Yes, we are all the same witness.
Yes, we are all the same sentience.
Yes, we are all the same awareness.
Yes, we are all the same alertness.
Yes, we are all the same omnipresence.
Yes, we are all the same cosmos.
Yes, we are all the same world.
Yes, we are all the same quantum.
Yes, we are all the same indivisible.
Yes, we are all the same ocean.
Yes, we are all the same nature.
Yes, we are all the same omniscience.
Yes, we are all the same eternity.
Yes, we are all the same here.
Yes, we are all the same now.
Yes, we are all the same moment.
Yes, we are all the same perpetuity.
Yes, we are all the same indelibility.
Yes, we are all the same infinity.
Yes, we are all the same soul.
Yes, we are all the same oneness.
Yes, we are all the same spirit.
Yes, we are all the same divinity.
Yes, we are all the same illusion.
Yes, we are all the same omnipotence.
Yes, we are all the same mystery.
Yes, we are all the same You.
Entitlement v. Darwin
How can anyone ever be totally prepared for chaos?
Especially rough for those domesticated by entitlement.
Gaia always boils down to Darwin 101: Adapt or succumb.
And spin into that unforgiving, pitiless equation,
A pale blue dot slathered with apes,
Vying for supremacy.
Vanity
Greed
Imagination unleashed.
Seekers All
Life seeks life.
Strength seeks strength.
Weakness seeks weakness.
Comedy seeks comedy.
Tragedy seeks tragedy.
Intelligence seeks intelligence.
Absurdity seeks absurdity.
Futility seeks futility.
Paradox seeks paradox.
Irony seeks irony.
Ecstasy seeks ecstasy.
Agony seeks agony.
Love seeks love.
Hate seeks hate.
Wisdom seeks wisdom.
Bliss seeks bliss.
Death seeks all.
Perpetual War Since the Beginning
Humankind has always been at war, has always competed full-tilt, and we always will.
You can take the monkey out of the jungle, but You cannot take the jungle out of the monkey.
Four billion-year-old, naturally-selected, nature-nurtured software, for which no update is possible.
The Illusion of All Boundaries
Where exactly is the defining edge of the drop that You think, You believe, You are,
That is at all separate from the cosmos, the electromagnetic spectrum,
The quantum ground, the matrix, the ether, the awareness,
The ineffable mystery, that You truly are.
Too Boggling for Words
Every quantum across this mystery, is exactly where it is,
To play out its timeless, indivisible role in the theater,
You and every other sentient being is perceiving.
The Same in All
The dimensions may be different,
But the sentience, the awareness, the totality, the mystery,
Is the same in all.
This Fine Day
The awareness of existence is too ethereal to be more than imagined.
So, what will your ethereal imagination do through You, this fine day?
A Once-Upon-A-Time Mirage
Your existence is a mind-built dream,
An imaginary projection of desire and fear and dread.
Discern and embrace the ineffable, prior-to-consciousness awareness,
And know that You are the mystery, centerstage, in a temporal once-upon-a-time mirage.
The Illusion of Permanence
The illusion of permanence is a delusional weaving born of timebound imagination.
No manifestation can withdraw or abstain, from the ever-present, kaleidoscoping quantum matrix.
Only in the sentience of pure awareness, can the eternal mystery be agnostically fathomed.
Remember … Forget … Remember …
… Wake up … remember … go to sleep … forget …
… Wake up … remember … go to sleep … forget …
… Wake up … remember … go to sleep … forget …
… Wake up … remember … go to sleep … forget …
… Wake up … remember … go to sleep … forget …
The Eternal Thespian
A Shakespearian theater.
You, perpetuity's ineffable thespian.
Intangible, indelible, indivisible, unborn-undying.
Playing every role, every single moment, to unrivaled perfection.
Empty Assertions
Whatever You think You know, whatever You think You understand,
Is merely the absurd self-deception of a delusional mind caught in illusion.
The essential nature, the indelible You, is prior to all knowledge and understanding.
All manifestation only exists because You are present to witness the mind-body perceptions.
The dream of space-time is nothing more than impromptu spontaneous combustion.
There is no point asking who or what or where or when or why or how,
Because imagination can only answer with empty assertions,
Having no reality in the timeless quantum matrix.
To give it name or meaning is pointless.
Shakespeare a la extempore,
With a hearty splash of so it goes.
The Magic Carpet of Imagination
Continuity is imagination’s fallacious delusion, over the mind-body’s sensory-born illusion.
The delusion fashioned by its intoxication with the vague perceptions,
The frame of reference, posted on its neuron trails.
It is the deception, the irony and paradox, of consciousness,
In its usurpation of the awareness, its usurpation of the timeless moment,
To seemingly fly through the eternal stillness, upon its magic carpet of space and time.
It is Shakespearian cuisine, upon a quantum stage, whereupon the mystery-born sentience, forges all.
Eternal Speculation
The mystery has never been able to more than speculate how it came to be.
In every venue across whatever dimensions are out there,
No manifestation has ever discerned,
Its origin, nor its end.
So it goes.
Embracing the Mystery
When all purpose and meaning is set aside,
You naturally return to the momentary awareness,
Free of the ball and chain of psychological gamesmanship.
To discern and own this peaceful, dreamlike freedom,
Fosters an inward simplicity, a detached humility,
A modesty, an austerity, a clarity, an integrity,
An embracing of the mystery of beingness.
What Doubt Unleashes
The grand illusion will manifest whatever experiences are fated.
Whatever tempts You into believing space and time real.
Only those with the greatest doubt will not waver,
In their walkabout to discern the unborn-undying totality.
The One-Bookers
The harvests of those subscribing to just one, so-called holy book, are endless waves of absurdity.
Across this dust ball, the one-bookers vie for an imaginary supremacy,
That has no ultimate reality, whatsoever.
What need for any religion, any dogma, any idolatry,
For those who discern the mystery of awareness within and without.
The Centerstage You
On every impromptu centerstage,
No matter the exterior, no matter the interior,
It is all the same You.
The Pathless Less Traveled
Consciousness fabricates space-time,
But is not what You really are,
Nor what You really are not.
To trek prior to consciousness,
To wander the pathless less traveled,
Requires a discerning, a doubting, mettle.
Heaven on Earth
To acutely, profoundly realize:
That You, in truth, do not ‘know’ anything;
That all You think You know, is but imaginary perceptions;
That all You think You know, is but quantum encoding in the neural processor;
Offers liberation into the momentary starkness of eternity.
For those searching for eternal salvation, there it is.
The momentary awareness is the brass ring.
Unborn-undying, indivisible, ineffable.
Heaven on Earth, indeed, indeed.
Purpose and Meaning
Does any other sentient being, on this spinning orb, or any other,
Require meaning and purpose to get through, to endure, its given existence?
The jury has left the building, on whether to gauge the human species illustrious or pathetic.
Imagination is source of all things, that have no harbor in pure sentience.
Awareness has no need of purpose, no need of meaning.
The timeless moment is ever fulfilled.
Just a Moment Away
Despite the fact, that there are no constraints, no binds, no dilemmas, whatsoever,
It is the most challenging thing, in all of this futile, pointless existence,
For the human mind to unstick, to release, to pry, to free,
Its essential Self, from its imaginary self.
The momentary awareness, cannot be grasped.
You Call This a Plan?
Is it intelligent design?
Is it reasoned design?
Is it sensible design?
Is it rational design?
Is it random design?
Is it irrational design?
Is it fallacious design?
Or is it any design at all?
The Unshackled Mind
The mystery is too mysterious, too esoteric, too irrational, too absurd,
To ever make any sense, to minds bent on trying to make sense of it all.
Only those who have given up completely, who have surrendered entirely,
Can harvest the fruit of doubt, and unshackle from their imaginary quandary.
The Mystery in a Drop
Way back when, Rumi etched: You are not a drop in the ocean; You are the entire ocean in a drop.
Yaj Ekim’s corollary: You are not a drop in the mystery; You are the entire mystery in a drop.
One drop is inconsequential, but all together, are omnipotent, omnipresent, omniscient.
Whatever the entirety of this spaceless, timeless, ineffable mystery, You are a centerstage in it.
A space-bound-time-bound, naturally-selected witness, to a Shakespearian theater of imaginary design.
High Order Delusion
To earnestly believe anything You do, have done, or will do,
Is going to change anything, in any meaningful way,
Is fallacious delusion of the highest order.
Witness to the Faceless
If You cannot be paradoxical,
If You cannot be dubious,
If You cannot be incredulous,
If You cannot be skeptical,
If You cannot be agnostic,
If You cannot be enigmatic,
If You cannot be irrational,
If You cannot be nonsensical,
If You cannot be sardonic,
If You cannot be doubtful,
If You cannot be peculiar,
If You cannot be outrageous,
If You cannot be atypical,
If You cannot be unbelieving,
If You cannot be cynical,
If You cannot be absurd,
If You cannot be uncertain,
If You cannot be disbelieving,
If You cannot be ironic,
How can You witness your faceless?
Imagination Cares, Awareness Cares Not
Infinite or infinitesimal, imagination cares, awareness cares not.
Spiritual or agnostic, imagination cares, awareness cares not.
Clean or dirty, imagination cares, awareness cares not.
Live or die, imagination cares, awareness cares not.
Wealthy or poor, imagination cares, awareness cares not.
Alive or dead, imagination cares, awareness cares not.
Believer or atheist, imagination cares, awareness cares not.
Subtle or blatant, imagination cares, awareness cares not.
Kind or cruel, imagination cares, awareness cares not.
Sane or insane, imagination cares, awareness cares not.
Straight or gay, imagination cares, awareness cares not.
Sage or fool, imagination cares, awareness cares not.
Fast or slow, imagination cares, awareness cares not.
Do or do not, imagination cares, awareness cares not.
Long or short, imagination cares, awareness cares not.
Succeed or fail, imagination cares, awareness cares not.
Love or hate, imagination cares, awareness cares not.
Still or moving, imagination cares, awareness cares not.
Real or unreal, imagination cares, awareness cares not.
Tit or tat, imagination cares, awareness cares not.
For or against, imagination cares, awareness cares not.
Up or down, imagination cares, awareness cares not.
Around or through, imagination cares, awareness cares not.
Clear or unclear, imagination cares, awareness cares not.
Fat or thin, imagination cares, awareness cares not.
Strong or weak, imagination cares, awareness cares not.
Gratis or priceless, imagination cares, awareness cares not.
Hard or soft, imagination cares, awareness cares not.
Give or take, imagination cares, awareness cares not.
To or from, imagination cares, awareness cares not.
Wise or foolish, imagination cares, awareness cares not.
Beautiful or ugly, imagination cares, awareness cares not.
Big or small, imagination cares, awareness cares not.
Known or unknown, imagination cares, awareness cares not.
Fore or aft, imagination cares, awareness cares not.
Awake or asleep, imagination cares, awareness cares not.
Heavy or light, imagination cares, awareness cares not.
Rich or poor, imagination cares, awareness cares not.
Awake or asleep, imagination cares, awareness cares not.
True or false, imagination cares, awareness cares not.
Ecstasy or agony, imagination cares, awareness cares not.
First or last, imagination cares, awareness cares not.
Creative or destructive, imagination cares, awareness cares not.
Full or empty, imagination cares, awareness cares not.
Sweet or bitter, imagination cares, awareness cares not.
Loud or quiet, imagination cares, awareness cares not.
Straight or rounded, imagination cares, awareness cares not.
Bright or dim, imagination cares, awareness cares not.
Well or unwell, imagination cares, awareness cares not.
Astute or obtuse, imagination cares, awareness cares not.
Like or unlike, imagination cares, awareness cares not.
Appealing or revolting, imagination cares, awareness cares not.
Clear or opaque, imagination cares, awareness cares not.
Thick or thin, imagination cares, awareness cares not.
Brave or cowardly, imagination cares, awareness cares not.
Sweet or sour, imagination cares, awareness cares not.
Equal or lopsided, imagination cares, awareness cares not.
King or slave, imagination cares, awareness cares not.
Queen or whore, imagination cares, awareness cares not.
Expansive or contractive, imagination cares, awareness cares not.
Soft or harsh, imagination cares, awareness cares not.
Young or old, imagination cares, awareness cares not.
Male or female, imagination cares, awareness cares not.
Honest or dishonest, imagination cares, awareness cares not.
Wild or tame, imagination cares, awareness cares not.
Early or late, imagination cares, awareness cares not.
Pure or foul, imagination cares, awareness cares not.
Cautious or reckless, imagination cares, awareness cares not.
Hit or miss, imagination cares, awareness cares not.
Lead or follow, imagination cares, awareness cares not.
High or low, imagination cares, awareness cares not.
Naive or cynical, imagination cares, awareness cares not.
Truth or lie, imagination cares, awareness cares not.
Deep or shallow, imagination cares, awareness cares not.
Open or closed, imagination cares, awareness cares not.
Rational or absurd, imagination cares, awareness cares not.
Near or far, imagination cares, awareness cares not.
Singular or dual, imagination cares, awareness cares not.
In or out, imagination cares, awareness cares not.
Free or imprisoned, imagination cares, awareness cares not.
Yes or no, imagination cares, awareness cares not.
Attached or detached, imagination cares, awareness cares not.
Course or fine, imagination cares, awareness cares not.
All or none, imagination cares, awareness cares not.
Shiny or dull, imagination cares, awareness cares not.
Smart or stupid, imagination cares, awareness cares not.
Tall or short, imagination cares, awareness cares not.
Forward or backward, imagination cares, awareness cares not.
Before or after, imagination cares, awareness cares not.
Selfless or selfish, imagination cares, awareness cares not.
One or two, imagination cares, awareness cares not.
Within or without, imagination cares, awareness cares not.
Yay or nay, imagination cares, awareness cares not.
Close or distant, imagination cares, awareness cares not.
Normal or weird, imagination cares, awareness cares not.
Wet or dry, imagination cares, awareness cares not.
Hot or cold, imagination cares, awareness cares not.
Constant or fickle, imagination cares, awareness cares not.
Positive or negative, imagination cares, awareness cares not.
Happy or sad, imagination cares, awareness cares not.
Fair or unfair, imagination cares, awareness cares not.
Over or under, imagination cares, awareness cares not.
Similar or different, imagination cares, awareness cares not.
Loose or tight, imagination cares, awareness cares not.
Plus or minus, imagination cares, awareness cares not.
Above or below, imagination cares, awareness cares not.
Inside or outside, imagination cares, awareness cares not.
Simple or complex, imagination cares, awareness cares not.
Black or white, imagination cares, awareness cares not.
Smooth or coarse, imagination cares, awareness cares not.
Wide or narrow, imagination cares, awareness cares not.
Gentle or cruel, imagination cares, awareness cares not.
Humble or vain, imagination cares, awareness cares not.
On or off, imagination cares, awareness cares not.
Here or there, imagination cares, awareness cares not.
Have or have not, imagination cares, awareness cares not.
Sharp or dull, imagination cares, awareness cares not.
Good or bad, imagination cares, awareness cares not.
Right or wrong, imagination cares, awareness cares not.
Everything or nothing, imagination cares, awareness cares not.
Something or nothing, imagination cares, awareness cares not.
White or black, imagination cares, awareness cares not.
Light or dark, imagination cares, awareness cares not.
This or that, imagination cares, awareness cares not.
Awareness holds on to nothing; why do You?
The Clock in the Sky
The clock on-high, in the sky, tick-tick-ticking every day away.
How would we measure time, how would we gauge time,
If not for the consistency of sun and moon and stars?
Would time even pretend to exist without them?
Would we imagine we exist without them?
Could we imagine we exist without them?
Should we imagine we exist with them?
No Assertion Required
At some point there is really no need to even assert “I Am.”
Just being the momentary awareness, just breathing in, breathing out,
Is far more than enough, in a very supercalifragilisticexpialidocious sort of way.
As Near as It Is Far
The awareness is as near as it is far.
The awareness permeates all genesis.
The awareness permeates all oblivion.
The everything and the nothing are one.
The everything and the nothing are You.
Rubs Aplenty
To see what cannot be seen,
To hear what cannot be heard,
To taste what cannot be tasted,
To smell what cannot be smelled,
To touch what cannot be touched,
To think what cannot be thought,
Now there, are a cluster of rubs,
Rubbing away, a rub-less way.
The Solitude of Eternity
It can indeed, be a long and winding,
Oft times lonely walkabout,
This calling to grapple the mystery.
Until one perhaps discerns the indivisible matrix,
Through which all time-bound linear perceptions kaleidoscope,
Is, has ever been, will ever be, the indelible, ineffable solitude, of all eternity.
Which is, of course, the unutterable aloneness of You, this very singular, very timeless moment.
Shakespeare Live
Imagination dominates the human mind; it has usurped the awareness of the sentience.
What do You want to be when You grow up? a question the young are oftentimes asked by adults.
Human conditioning is ever about aspiring to various functions; when naught, is literally all, all really are.
Those with ambition are acclaimed; those who have no purpose, no meaning, are sidelined.
The rare few take the query to its frontiers, and become critical thinkers.
Skeptics, cynics, doubters, nonbelievers, agnostics.
And discern the truth of this mystery.
That they are the mystery.
And meander amongst the bustling masses,
Observing the theatrics – Shakespeare live – detached and free.
It Is All Just Happening
The indivisible entirety is no more responsible for this illusion,
Than any ocean is for its surface, its depths,
Or the play of its waves,
Upon any number of shorelines.
Do Not Be Fooled
To You who yearn for the ultimate freedom,
You are all buddhas, You are all christs.
You are every mystic seer and master,
This illusory cosmos has ever known.
You are your own timeless companion.
Do not be fooled into believing otherwise.
The Scythians Are Coming!
In his The Unabridged Devil's Dictionary, Ambrose Bierce, defined Cynic,
As a blackguard, whose faulty vision sees things as they are, not as they ought to be.
Oh my god! The Scythians are coming! The Scythians are coming to pluck out your eyeballs!
A Sea of Metaphors
What is what is consciousness, what is imagination, what is Gaia, but a sea of metaphors.
Figures of speech that, for rhetorical effect, directly refer to one thing by mentioning another.
That may provide (or obscure) clarity or identify hidden similarities between two different ideas.
Metaphors paint one concept with the brush of another, revealing hidden connections,
Or sometimes obscuring clarity to create a likeness or a vivid analogy.
Comparable with other types of figurative language,
Such as, antithesis and hyperbole and metonymy and simile.
Figures of speech, figurative expressions, images, tropes, symbols, parables,
Analogies, comparisons, allegories, emblems, word paintings, word pictures, literary conceits.
A Metaphor for All Time: The Seven Ages of Man
All the world's a stage,
And all the men and women merely Players;
They have their exits and their entrances,
And one man in his time plays many parts,
His Acts being seven ages. At first, the infant,
Mewling and puking in the nurse's arms.
Then the whining schoolboy, with his satchel
And shining morning face, creeping like snail
Unwillingly to school. And then the lover,
Sighing like furnace, with a woeful ballad
Made to his mistress' eyebrow. Then a soldier,
Full of strange oaths and bearded like the pard,
Jealous in honor, sudden and quick in quarrel,
Seeking the bubble reputation
Even in the cannon's mouth. And then the justice,
In fair round belly with good capon lined,
With eyes severe and beard of formal cut,
Full of wise saws and modern instances;
And so he plays his part. The sixth age shifts
Into the lean and slippered pantaloon,
With spectacles on nose and pouch on side;
His youthful hose, well saved, a world too wide
For his shrunk shank, and his big manly voice,
Turning again toward childish treble, pipes
And whistles in his sound. Last scene of all,
That ends this strange eventful history,
Is second childishness and mere oblivion,
Sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans everything.
Jaques (a.k.a., William Shakespeare), As You Like It, Act II, Scene VII, Line 139
The Challenge of Letting Go
Consciousness is infused with the desire to have, to hold, to take, to own,
To possess, to enjoy, to keep, to retain, to gather, to collect, to amass, to marshal,
To acquire, to occupy, to control, to dominate, to influence, to muster, to collect, to seize.
To release, to unleash, to unchain, to unfetter, to meander empty,
Is the challenge for any given mind.
Rhetorical Design
The human species, despite all its imaginary rhetoric to the contrary,
Is no different than any other biology this garden world,
Has ever through natural selection devised.
No Time Like the Present
There is no time like present.
World War Darwin
Gaia has always been in World War Darwin.
Every creature has always started any given day not knowing,
Whether or not it would survive, much less thrive.
The Neural Matrix
The neural matrix is but pure, unadulterated awareness …
Nature-nurture – genetically-mutated-hardwired – to be the matrix mystery.
That which is acclaimed, for which, few humans, truly-long-happen, in their imaginary cosmos:
To be the nothingness it is … To be the nothingness You are.
The Abyss of Judgment
The human specter, in all its imaginary quandaries, seems, in large part, to be all about endless judgment.
Endless – opinions, attitudes, appraisals, beliefs, outlooks, feelings – about everyone, everything.
And the consequences of that endlessness, can range from shrug, to destruction and death.
The Planet of the Apes, has always been in conflict with itself, and all things Gaia.
Every mind, a gummy quagmire, filled with every imaginable appraisal,
And there is no way to remedy the naturally-selected Darwinian juggernaut.
The Deceits Parables Weave
All cults, all sects, all religions, kick off with one parable or another,
That some storyteller spins, oral or written, into a mythology,
That entrances, enough true believers, enough sheeples,
To together, groupthink a narrative for the ages.
Those with direct perception, do not require stories.
Discerning Courage Required
Every culture molds individual conformity,
To whatever mythos it prescribes.
It takes discerning courage,
To discover, to be, what You truly are.
There is no freedom, incarnating a prescribed life.
Wielding It All Together
Across this pale blue dot garden, minds cling in every way-shape-form,
To the obliviousness of imagination’s uncountabledivisions.
Witness the many intolerances, great and small,
Rational and irrational, good and evil,
Intelligent and senseless, wise and foolish.
Discern the common essence within all imaginary differences,
And wield them together into the infinite singularity, from which all illusion is created.
A Stoic Detachment
What do all human belief systems seem to be about,
But an innate, naturally-selected, self-absorbed craving,
To believe we truly are – for every rationale under the sun –
Somehow significant, somehow important, somehow cherished,
Somehow precious, by this boundless, timeless, impenetrable cosmos,
That seems to be, for all reasoned observation, indifferent to our existence.
Whether or not, there is some deity out there tracking everything,
Evaluating, judging, our every thought, our every deed,
Is a question that haunts the many if not most,
Unable to realize a stoic detachment.
Always a Step Behind
Everything You perceive,
Everything You think,
Everything You see,
Everything You do,
Everything You know,
Everything You believe,
Everything You hope,
Everything You love,
Everything You hate,
Everything You accept,
Everything You deny,
Everything You give,
Everything You take,
Everything You realize,
Everything You dream,
Everything You recall,
Everything You admire,
Everything You deride,
Everything You possess,
Everything You cherish,
Everything You judge,
Is nothing more than imagination,
Is always but a dreamer shadowing the moment,
Is nothing more than electrical impulses racing along neural pathways.
Only in the stillness of unadorned awareness, can You know, can You be, the timeless eternity You are.
Is the Future Ready?
Self-reliance, grit, gumption, work ethic, critical thinking, the ability to stand alone.
Is what it took for the human paradigm to arrive at this moment in time.
Is the future ready to take over the world we have left it?
What will it be like to be born into a Ponzi scheme forever undone?
The Sands of Time Have No Memory
Any life and its destiny, is but an imaginary dream,
Instantly forgotten in this quantum mirage.
The sands of time have no memory.
What It Is
There is nothing to argue; nothing to prove.
It is what it is; You are what You are.
And it is all one in the same.
How Is That Working for You?
Maintaining an existence,
You no longer care about,
No longer have desire for,
No longer have energy for,
How is that working for You?
The Quantum-Awakened
The quantum-awakened, turn sand into gold, coal into diamonds, water into wine.
The Inner Journey
It is up to any would-be philosopher-mystic, drawn to the great game,
To from podium speak his/her mind – to take up their philosophical gauntlets –
And sally forth every serendipitous thought, their minds have been nature-nurtured to utter.
In any-and-all dimensions, this indelibly ineffable, mystery elephant – called by many names – ordains.
To unveil his/her mind’s eye, to share the reasonings, encapsulating the unveiling of their wander.
The journey, all their many thoughts – the imaginings – their mortal mind’s destiny calls.
The trek through illusion – ever inquiring into the truth of their beingness –
Until fate slides the door open, to the only possible conclusion,
That You are indeed, ineradicably, That I Am.
The Ether of Oblivion
… Earth … Wind … Water … Fire …
Intertwined in every conceivable genre pax.
In the Ether of Nothingness … oblivion’s marrow.
An Imaginary Reality
You are the indescribable, indivisible, indelible, unborn-undying awareness,
Witnessing consciousness frolicking about a quantum matrix.
Stardust shrouded in every imaginable form,
Imagining the ecstasies and agonies of existence real.
The Last Will and Testament
The very serendipitous – day-to-day of random folks – whose paths I crossed,
Were casually given business cards, with website name and address.
And before that, who knows how many pilfered copies,
Through the side door at the Kinko’s in Chico.
There is no knowing how far, how wide, or for what duration,
Future imagination-driven times, will choose to allow, this freely-offered serum,
From a scribe who pretty much made it his last hobby, his last distraction, his last will and testament.
Effing the Ineffable
So many minds, imagining in every way, the mystery into which all are inexplicably cast.
So many minds, investigating their existence; so many minds, effing the ineffable.
Leaving behind so many creations, sharing their revelations of the eternal:
Writings, paintings, sculptures, music, architecture, ad infinitum.
A world of seers, bound by the mundanity of the masses,
Whose unrealized raison d'être, is to secure the ways and means,
For the unborn-undying, ageless witness, to fathom its unfathomability.
The Many Paths to Destiny
Settle for less, and that is what destiny will mete out.
Seek more than fate has assigned, and the dream will tether You.
The passions are ephemeral beasts in this ineffable magical mystery tour.
Moderation is the surest means to a content, peaceful existence,
But even the most sagacious tack offers no guarantees.
To be born is to endure whatever fate is allotted,
And there is no happy end to any story.
The Show Must Go On
Easier to ignore this sort of scribbling.
For vanity and voracity's sake,
The show must go on.
A Quantum Kaleidoscope
There is no space, there is no time.
There is only quantum energy, eternally kaleidoscoping,
In the quantum dreamtime of consciousness, in the quantum perceptions of mind.
And You: pure awareness, untouched; You: sentience, unscathed.
You: ineffable, indelible, unborn-undying witness,
To eternity’s ever-present moment.
Coulda Shoulda Woulda
Coulda-shoulda-woulda, have brought to a halt, to all this nonsense long ago.
So much absurdity, over an elephant that can never been seen.
Coulda-shoulda-woulda, sought out a little cave.
Kept to my Self, Kept my peace,
Lived existence, rationally, serenely.
Free from all the mundanity, all the temporality.
Wait, I have done that! Here I am, ensconced right here now.
In my zennish, collector-hoarder hollow: Studio 101, Lakeside Apartments,
Turlock, California 93382-1016, United States, Gaia, Milky Way, Universe … Mystery …
The Reality of All Stories
Any story, no matter when written, is only as real as your belief in it.
The Harvest of Discernment
Free your Self from the binds and obligations of groupthink,
That often diminishes creativity and individual responsibility.
Stand alone, immersed in the momentary awareness You are.
Free of all doubts, all bothers; be the harvest of discernment.
The Absurdity! The Absurdity!
How is it so many imagine a personal deity to sanction their dream?
How is it so many imagine a personal deity to bestow their wishes?
How is it so many imagine a personal deity to fulfill their desires?
How is it so many imagine a personal deity to bless their ventures?
How is it so many imagine a personal deity to bolster their alliances?
How is it so many imagine a personal deity to vanquish their enemies?
How is it so many imagine a personal deity to judge them auspiciously?
How is it so many imagine a personal deity to bequeath them eternal life?
How is it so many are blind to their endless me-myself-and-I self-absorption?
Despite All Delusions to the Contrary
Despite all delusions to the contrary, we all are animals.
Despite all delusions to the contrary, we are all biological beings.
Despite all delusions to the contrary, we are all connected to the web of life.
Despite all delusions to the contrary, we are all equal participants in the same mystery.
Despite all delusions to the contrary, we are all nameless witnesses to the same quantum dreamtime.
And no amount of twisting nor twirling of the imaginary mind, will ever change that.
The Illusion-Delusion of Free Will
What choices have You ever really had?
What choice did You have in your existence?
What choice did You have in your awareness?
What choice did You have in your nature-nurture?
What choice did You have in your gender?
What choice did You have in your physique?
What choice did You have in your vision?
What choice did You have in your hearing?
What choice did You have in your smelling?
What choice did You have in your tasting?
What choice did You have in your feeling?
What choice did You have in your mind?
What choice did You have in your family?
What choice did You have in your birth order?
What choice did You have in your culture?
What choice did You have in your ethnicity?
What choice did You have in your geography?
What choice did You have in your universe?
What choice did You have in your socioeconomic level?
What choice did You have in your intelligence?
What choice did You have in your language?
What choice did You have in your name?
What choice did You have in your education?
What choice did You have in your interests?
What choice did You have in your beliefs?
What choice did You have in your religion?
What choice did You have in your politics?
Even Your daily movement, Your daily choices,
The every-step-you-take-every-moment believe to be free will,
Are the quantum dictates of every natural selection since the beginning of all beginnings.
How Does It Make Any Sense?
How can it ever make any sense at all,
That You are not a drop of the whole?
That You are not a drop of the entirety?
That You are not a drop of the creation?
That You are not a drop of the sentience?
That You are not a drop of the ineffable?
That You are not a drop of the awareness?
That You are not a drop of the dreamtime?
That You are not a drop of the indelibility?
That You are not a drop of the indivisibility?
That You are not a drop of the unborn-undying?
That You are not a drop of the preservation?
That You are not a drop of the destruction?
That You are not a drop of the spaceless?
That You are not a drop of the timeless?
That You are not a drop of the mystery?
That You are not a drop of the eternal?
That You are not a drop of all that is?
Call it anything You will, You are it.
Deal With It
Short of excessive violence,
It is all but impossible to keep anyone,
From thinking whatever they darned well please,
About You, or anyone or anything else.
So it goes, get over yourself.
An Astounding Waste
Why would it at all matter, how this mystery began?
Here You right-here-right-now are; here we all right-here-right-now are,
How much futility, how much angst, the human species has spent through so much of its history,
Speculating-asserting-battling, over an eternal moment it can never possibly know.
What an astounding squander of spacless-timeless it has all been.
Speculations of a Dystopian Mind
What will be the future of our kind, and life on this pale blue dot, You often wonder.
It is challenging to wrap the timebound mind around the dystopian horror You see coming.
How much longer will the human paradigm persevere after Your cadaver is a dusty pile of bones?
Ahh, but that is indeed a narcissistic-egocentric question, if there ever was one.
So, just toss it into the passing breeze, and expect no answers.
And someday quietly depart, ever agnostic.
How Like Us
Curious, how like us, all our deities, across the world, across time, have always been.
Willful, jealous, vindictive, judgmental, malicious, pitiless, vengeful.
And sometime kind and just, and perhaps even loving,
When it suits the undisclosed schemes.
Is there any limit to our affinity for absurdity?
And Who Decides?
How good is good? How bad is bad?
How right is right? How wrong is wrong?
How known is known? How unknown is unknown?
How infinite is infinite? How infinitesimal is infinitesimal?
How true is true? How false is false?
And who decides?
The Way of Awareness
Regarding the way of awareness, the way of the moment,
The way of the right-here-right-now, the way of the spaceless-timeless eternal,
It is, as Minch Yoda astutely said to Luke Skywalker: No. Try not. Do ... or do not. There is no try.
To attain eternal life, one must doubt everything, one must let go everything.
One must be everything, and nothing all the while.
Doubt All Things
Doubt all the stories, all the narratives, all the anything, floating willy-nilly about the mind.
That which is most unfathomably true, is prior to all affairs born of imaginary design.
Philosopher René Descartes penned, “If You would be a real seeker after truth,
You must at least once in your life, doubt, as far as possible, all things.”
That Whiny Little Voice
It can be quite challenging to tamp down that whiny little voice,
Once imagination discerns that self-pity serves well,
As a distraction from the moment.
Anonymity Rules
How history judges anything,
Will ultimately achieve the same anonymity,
All things imaginary ever have.
Nature is the Expression
Nature is the expression of the eternal moment of the ineffable mystery You are.
To ignore it, to abuse it, to destroy it, is a sure path to oblivion.
To wander harmoniously in it, is the way.
Your Eternal Birthright
You need not believe the spins You project, either to the world, or to yourself.
Toss away any-and-all thoughts – positive or neutral or negative – of the imaginary self.
Be the stillness, the utterness, the unborn-undying, of the awareness that is your eternal birthright.
Ugly Is as Ugly Does
What repulsive, hideous, revolting creatures, so many women become.
How some men remain sexually aroused by them is a mystery,
Especially once their youthful effervescence has faded,
Into pallid, sagging skin, with thick layers of clownish make-up,
Topped with beauty-shopped hair, and anatomy covered by languishing tattoos.
A genetic lottery of biological evolution no less crunchy-chewy-gooey than any other creation.
Add to that inventory: obesity, scars, wrinkles, blemishes, mutilations, disfigurements,
Flatulence, blotches, stretch marks, cottage cheese, diseases, sores, disabilities.
It is indeed a mind-boggling mystery, which only delusional blinders,
And four-billion-year-old software, come close to explaining.
Natural selection can only manage so much evolving,
With such a haphazardly encrypted algorithm.
And let us not deny, this all applies,
To the other half-ish of the species, as well.
And in truth, every other life form Gaia has ever devised.
The One and Only You
Ever the same You, playing out every creation across all eternity.
So infinite, so infinitesimal, as to be the only divinity worth ascertaining.
The eternal moment, timeless, ever-present, right here, right now, unborn, undying.
You are pure awareness: ineffable, indelible, indivisible, immeasurable.
You are ever You, have ever been You, will ever be You.
There is no other, than the one and only You.
The Original Departure
That moment when sense of self, the me-myself-I, first arises in the mind,
Is the moment that separates one from the garden this pale blue dot has fashioned.
And all the other estrangements follow suit for that bubble of imagination’s entire existence.
There is no returning to the garden of origin, but through an awakening to that awareness prior to all.
And that awakening is set in motion through the deep doubt of a critical-thinking perspective,
That only the rarest minds ascertain, as they meander down their road less traveled.
A solitary road, upon which adventures are witnessed. one after another.
A solitary road that kaleidoscopes to its destined conclusion.
There is Only One Truth
There is only one truth, and it is this very right-here-right-now moment,
Timelessly ephemeral, unborn, undying, immeasurable, indivisible, ineffable.
There is no need for any dogma; there is only being inwardly still enough to be it.
Truth is Not …
Truth is not a word.
Truth is not a thought.
Truth is not a story.
Truth is not a dichotomy.
Truth is not knowable.
Truth is not intelligible.
Truth is not moot.
Truth is not provable.
Truth is not space-bound.
Truth is not time-bound.
Truth is not hearsay.
Truth is not understandable.
Truth is not definable.
Truth is not describable.
Truth is not debatable.
Truth is not a dogma.
Truth is not expressible.
Truth is not a belief.
Truth is not before.
Truth is not after.
Truth is not penetrable.
Truth is not a rumor.
Truth is not fathomable.
Truth is not effable.
Truth is not graspable.
Truth is not controversial.
Truth is not any thing.
Truth is not anything.
You are the truth.
You are the life.
You are the Way.
Simply be your Self.
Right here, right now, bam!
Fearless Living
Living fearlessly is not necessarily something manly-man-on-steroids machismo,
As much as it is being serene enough to be the moment You ever are.
The awareness You ever are, the eternal You ever are.
The right-here-right-now You ever are.
The You, You ever are.
Blinders On, Blinders Off
To ignore natural law, to ignore physics,
To believe You are in anyway separate from anything,
Is to be in such a state of blindered delusion,
That it is a wonder You still exist.
Process is All
Every process has a beginning.
Every process has an ending.
Every process is part of a process,
That is without beginning, without end.
Nothing Exists Because of Imagination
Nothing exists because of imagination.
Cultures, languages, mathematics,
Sciences, technologies, religions,
All the arts, the politics, the silk roads,
Are all imagination, evolved unto existence.
The usurper of sentience reigns the human mind.
The usurper of sentience dominates the human paradigm.
The natural selection, that selected its way to such immense heights,
Is the creator, is the preserver, is the destroyer, of all things,
That were nothing more than illusion from the get-go.
You, Centerstage, All Alone
Alone.
You are so alone.
Give into it with full abandon,
And be the ineffable, eternal mystery, You are.
This human paradigm dreamtime is but a Shakespearian soiree,
Through an illusory quantum matrix, infused with every variety of delusion imaginable.
In which You will perform your nature-nurture centerstage character,
However it naturally-selects – very much alone.
The Path to the Ineffable
The awareness is the unborn-undying moment.
The awareness requires no belief system.
The awareness esteems no philosophy.
The awareness has no moral compass.
The awareness has no consciousness.
The awareness has no space or time.
The awareness has no need or want.
The awareness has no faith or hope.
The awareness has no raison d'être.
The awareness has no imagination.
The awareness has no love or hate.
The awareness has no obstructions.
The awareness has no passion or zeal.
No one can more than suggest the way.
There is absolutely nothing to hold onto.
You must doubt everything, for your Self.
You must discover it, all alone, for your Self.
You must then witness it, all alone, for your Self.
It is a road less traveled; a fork only the rare perceive.
There is truly no other, but few are nominated to realize it.
Many Paths, One Grave
There are many paths, treading all about this pale blue dot of a dust ball, all to the same grave.
Paradise Won, Paradise Lost
The engineers and scientists, and all the diligent worker bees,
Pushed and pulled us all up the exalted road, a road to paradise and beyond,
Until it became a road too far, and is now all Humpty Dumpty, falling, falling, down, down.
We have already given them carte blanche to destroy this garden dust ball beyond all possible redemption,
So why not allow them to spin it into dystopian mayhem and chaos and despair beyond all pales?
Let vanity and greed wreak their final act, and Gaia move on to the next geological epoch.
Spinning Wheels Go Round and Round
To endlessly attempt to discover and define Self,
Is really, no different than a caged hamster running round and round on its spinning wheel.
Passing time, filling the mind with every variety of pointless absurdity,
To which imagination is so inherently capable.
A Web of Everything
It is not merely a web of life; it is a web of everything.
An indivisible matrix, permeating an unfathomable mystery.
Too beyond knowing, to be perceived by anything but a still mind.
No naming necessary, for it is the same awareness, the same You, in all.
What is Self?
What is this sense of Self, this me-myself-I,
But an intrinsic survival mechanism of the sentience,
Attached to whatever mind-body the genetic lottery has sculpted.
Given over to imagination’s endless struggle, to be more than it can ever be.
It is a quandary not easily set aside, even for the most resolute.
Every mirror, every photograph, every interaction,
Ever reinforces the imaginary dreamtime.
Not easy to be indifferent to the quantum illusion.
Very challenging to be untouched by imagination’s fell grip.
Though space and time are ultimately unreal, the eternal awareness You are,
Is captive within the magical theater of the mind-body, the mystery has imposed upon its Self.
You Are the One and Only Ineffable Moment
We have created this thing called time, based on the whirling regularity of the earth, the moon, the sun.
Seconds, minutes, hours, days, months, years, decades, centuries, millenniums, epochs.
But there are no ‘moments’ – there is only one indivisible moment.
One spaceless moment, one timeless moment.
You are this eternal moment.
You are this now.
This is it.
This is all it is.
There is nothing more.
There can be nothing more.
There will never be anything more.
All the narratives humankind has concocted,
All the creations the monkey-mind has brought forth.
Are nothing more than the ineffable dreamtime of imagination.
The unfathomable awareness You are, the unknowable mystery You are,
That which the divisive human mind has in every way deified,
Is in truth, all there is, has ever been, will ever be.
You are it, it is You, there is no other.
Alone, absolute, flawless,
Unborn, undying,
Now.
The Impenetrable Moment
No story, no narrative, no history, no chronicle,
No account, no anecdote, no description, no tale, no yarn,
No matter how well-written, no matter how real, no matter how true,
No matter how miraculous, no matter how fantastical,
Can touch the unborn-undying moment.
Idolatry Is Idolatry Is Idolatry
Whether in appearances, whether in concepts, idolatry is idolatry is idolatry.
Only in pure awareness, can the timeless moment be perceived truth.
Only in pure awareness, can the timeless You, be the true Self.
The Quest for Truth
Why should You believe anything You have not examined for yourself?
Why would You believe anything You have not examined for yourself?
How could You believe anything You have not examined for yourself?
Approach all phenomena, all questions – rationally, sensibly, lucidly –
With truth, with fact, with reality, with honesty – the primary objective.
Do not allow imagination to weave its many guiles over your mind’s eye.
Prior to Space and Time
Without space, there cannot be time.
Without time, there cannot be space.
Without them, there is just awareness.
Without them, there is just You.
Every Moment That I Am
Whether You see the truth of it clearly,
All the time, some of the time, or never at all,
You are still every moment incapable of not being it.
Any and all notions of dualistic me-myself-and-I perception,
Are nothing more than arbitrary, fallacious delusions of imagination.
Where, Oh Where?
Where in the awareness of the moment does the universe exist?
Where in the awareness of the moment does the world exist?
Where in the awareness of the moment does the body exist?
Where in the awareness of the moment does the mind exist?
Where in the awareness of the moment does space-time exist?
Where in the awareness of the moment does consciousness exist?
Where in the awareness of the moment do You exist?
Just the Way You Are
You have always been ineffable just the way You are.
You have always been perfect just the way You are.
You have always been immaculate just the way You are.
You have always been indivisible just the way You are.
You have always been intangible just the way You are.
You have always been indelible just the way You are.
You have always been unborn-undying just the way You are.
You have always been absolute just the way You are.
You have always been totality just the way You are.
You have always been spaceless just the way You are.
You have always been timeless just the way You are.
You have always been incomprehensible just the way You are.
You have always been mysterious just the way You are.
You have always been impeccable just the way You are.
You have always been singular just the way You are.
You have always been matchless just the way You are.
You have always been tabula rasa just the way You are.
You have always been pervasive just the way You are.
You have always been momentary just the way You are.
You have always been unbound just the way You are.
You have always been seamless just the way You are.
You have always been unconditional just the way You are.
You have always been anonymous just the way You are.
You have always been indecipherable just the way You are.
You have always been truth just the way You are.
You have always been unknowable just the way You are.
You have always been everlasting just the way You are.
You have always been flawless just the way You are.
You have always been perpetual just the way You are.
You have always been immeasurable just the way You are.
You have always been inscrutable just the way You are.
You have always been inexplicable just the way You are.
You have always been unequivocal just the way You are.
You have always been unimaginable just the way You are.
You have always been ageless just the way You are.
You have always been inconceivable just the way You are.
You have always been motionless just the way You are.
You have always been oblivion just the way You are.
You have always been indefinable just the way You are.
You have always been harmonious just the way You are.
You have always been nondualistic just the way You are.
You have always been eternal just the way You are.
Sometimes
Sometimes You walk through eternity.
Sometimes You run through eternity.
Sometimes You sit through eternity.
Sometimes You wait through eternity.
Sometimes You think through eternity.
Sometimes You talk through eternity.
Sometimes You look through eternity.
Sometimes You listen through eternity.
Sometimes You smell through eternity.
Sometimes You taste through eternity.
Sometimes You feel through eternity.
Sometimes You fear through eternity.
Sometimes You dread through eternity.
Sometimes You abide through eternity.
Sometimes You hope through eternity.
Sometimes You love through eternity.
Sometimes You hate through eternity.
Sometimes You want through eternity.
Sometimes You grasp through eternity.
Sometimes You release through eternity.
Sometimes You give through eternity.
Sometimes You take through eternity.
Sometimes You win through eternity.
Sometimes You lose through eternity.
Sometimes You inhale through eternity.
Sometimes You exhale through eternity.
Sometimes You judge through eternity.
Sometimes You forgive through eternity.
Sometimes You forget through eternity.
Sometimes You flow through eternity.
Sometimes You resist through eternity.
Sometimes You celebrate through eternity.
Sometimes You mourn through eternity.
Sometimes You suffer through eternity.
Sometimes You delight through eternity.
Sometimes You create through eternity.
Sometimes You preserve through eternity.
Sometimes You destroy through eternity.
Sometimes You sleep through eternity.
Sometimes You awaken through eternity.
The moment, the awareness, the sentience, is the sky of You.
And the mind, the senses, the self of imagination, are but clouds ever streaming through.
Where Is the Line?
Where is the line between infinite and infinitesimal, and who decides?
Where is the line between order and chaos, and who decides?
Where is the line between light and dark, and who decides?
Where is the line between love or hate, and who decides?
Where is the line between good and evil, and who decides?
Where is the line between rational and irrational, and who decides?
Where is the line between large and small, and who decides?
Where is the line between this and that, and who decides?
Where is the line between near and far, and who decides?
Where is the line between right and wrong, and who decides?
Where is the line between in and out, and who decides?
Where is the line between black and white, and who decides?
Where is the line between real and unreal, and who decides?
Where is the line between fact and fiction, and who decides?
Where is the line between sincere and disingenuous, and who decides?
Where is the line between thick and thin, and who decides?
Where is the line between peace and war, and who decides?
Where is the line between genuine and hypocritical, and who decides?
Where is the line between win and lose, and who decides?
Where is the line between many and few, and who decides?
Where is the line between tall and short, and who decides?
Where is the line between narrow and wide, and who decides?
Where is the line between tangible and intangible, and who decides?
Where is the line between loose and tight, and who decides?
Where is the line between hot and cold, and who decides?
Where is the line between within and without, and who decides?
Where is the line between true and false, and who decides?
Where is the line between yes and no, and who decides?
Where is the line between truth and lie, and who decides?
Where is the line between have and have not, and who decides?
Where is the line between new and old, and who decides?
Where is the line between pleasure and pain, and who decides?
Where is the line between us and them, and who decides?
Where is the line between caution and paranoia, and who decides?
Where is the line between up and down, and who decides?
Where is the line between knowledge and ignorance, and who decides?
Where is the line between formal and informal, and who decides?
Where is the line between ethical and unethical, and who decides?
Where is the line between awake and asleep, and who decides?
Where is the line between sage and fool, and who decides?
Where is the line between creator and creation, and who decides?
Where is the line between the mystery and You, and who decides?
How Amazing You Are
Why would an indifferent mystery,
Bored with the filled-with-nothing eternal moment,
Not sanction natural selection to play the quantum illusion impromptu?
A big-bang-turtles-up-down-throw-of-the-dice genesis, weaving its Self, into an infinite theater.
An immaculate conception, chock-full of every quantum possibility imaginable.
An ineffable, ever-lasting, kaleidoscoping, stardust mystery.
Every handiwork witnessed within and without,
Through the indivisible, all-seeing, unborn-undying, eye of awareness.
How amazing You are, to have played every part, every particle, in this magical mystery theater.
What? What? What?
What is bondage?
What is knowledge?
What is enlightenment?
What is liberation?
What is reality?
What is truth?
What is You?
Illusions, all.
The Truth of the Matter
The truth of the matter, is an illusion-delusion.
An indivisible dreamtime left for imagination to speculate,
Every feasible speculation, any given eensy-weensy mind, can fathom.
The Timeless Witness
The awareness, the moment, is church enough, religion enough, faith enough, for any-and-all.
No need to wait for a relatively few times a week, when awareness is witness to every moment.
Down a Dead-End Road
Both electricity and oil took off about, one hundred fifty and change, years ago,
And it has been accelerating-exponential on every chart and graph and schema since.
How the world-wide electrical grid will keep up with it all, is destined to be quite a saga.
The engineers and scientists, and all the supporting cast, have taken us down a dead-end road.
We might stumble into a very dystopian, very wretched Old School, any day now; be ready steady.
Wake Up, You Ninny
It is not the egocentric mind-body that is eternally immortal, You ninny.
It is the awareness that is equally within and without all creation.
This imaginary identity and world You are so attached to,
Is nothing more than food for worms and beyond,
As the quantum illusion churns ever on.
Imagination’s Eternity
Temporary sacks of crunchy-chewy-gooey genetic material,
– permeated, pervaded, infused, saturated, soaked –
In imagination’s eternal quantum matrix.
Tollbooths Across the Board
Tollbooths, at every opportunity, is how it works, for those who play the game.
The Man of One Book
Easy to believe your book the most real and true, when it is the only one You have ever read.
The man of one book uses whatever is said, whatever is written, to corroborate his delusion.
Imagination’s Labyrinth
How is it we are not lost in absolute wonder, unwavering awe, in the light of this quantum dreamtime.
How is it we are so passionately unable, so violently unwilling, to look, to examine beyond,
And happily, dance through the infinity of differences, we every-moment imagine,
To discern the ineffable prior-to-consciousness indivisibility we all are,
That through which this quantum mirage kaleidoscopes.
Please Don’t Hurt Us!
What petty, meaningless gods, we have, across all times and spaces, imagined.
What petty, meaningless gods, we have across all times and spaces,
Dreaded and worshipped and pleaded forgiveness from.
As if we were somehow to blame for any of it.
Eternity’s Illusion
So much illusory quantum movement, quantum vibration,
Kaleidoscoping through the eternal stillness,
Of the one and only moment.
Om, baby, Om.
Rushing Through the Expanse
Rushing, rushing, rushing; how we do so scurry here and there,
As if we were bona-fide significant, in an expanse full of dust balls.
The Ever-Next Generation
Every generation passes on a lesser, more depleted world.
What blessings, what curses, will the current issue, inflict upon the next.
Another long-and-winding moment, in this ever-kaleidoscoping, illusory stardust sitcom.
Speculation Unending
Consciousness will ever spin every variety of speculation about its ineffable, indivisible origin,
For it can have no recollection of the oblivion that was prior to all its absurdities.
Nor is it at all able to more than imagine the unborn-undying state,
After the mind-body’s final breath exits the stage.
As magnificent as it imagines itself to be, imagination has its limits.
As center of the universe, as it imagines itself to be, imagination is but a mortal player.
The Anonymity! The Anonymity!
Another ditty, none but these eyes shall likely ever read.
Another ditty unveiling the anonymity, all are.
Even the most famous in their time,
Destined to be forgotten.
The Last Decision
Why feet obligated to wait for the Reaper,
Why feel obligated to let some imaginary ornament,
Make the ‘no-more-of-this-bullshit’ final exit decision for You?
Magical v. Empirical
Opting for magical thinking over empirical observation; well, enjoy the delusion.
The Mystery of Sentience
Of course, the universe is exactly as You every moment perceive it … and so is everyone else’s.
That is the mystery of it – every mysterious very-much-the-same moment – of sentient perception.
The Eye of Awareness
What are human beings but sacks of genetic material –
Permeated, pervaded, infused, saturated, soaked – in imagination’s matrix.
The ego mind is but a sensory-inspired illusion, through which the eye of awareness You are, peers.
Detached, aloof, indifferent, disinterested, impassive, impersonal … immortal.
Too Much, Too Many
Too much everything.
Too many people.
Too many things.
Too many hungers.
Too many deceits.
Too many untruths.
Too much bullshit.
Too much absurdity.
Too much horror.
Too much everything.
The You Prior to All
The mystery, which is the awareness, the You, prior to all,
Is completely, utterly, entirely, absolutely – empty, barren, devoid, bereft, clear, free –
Of all attributes imagined, of all attributes unimagined.
You are the mystery, You are That I Am.
The other is but illusion.
The Clarity! The Clarity!
What can possibly be more liberating, than the effortless clarity of pure, immaculate, ineffable awareness?
It does not require the potency of power, the security of wealth, the status of fame, the reason of wisdom.
It is itself unto its Self – there is no other with which to contend – no mind or body for which to gather.
To surrender your self to your Self, to surrender your self to the timeless moment, is the path of grace.
Beyond the Idolatries of Imagination
The word ‘God’ is just a sound, just a concept, just an image, just an idol.
The reality of that which is, and is not, God, is much more than any mind can grasp.
To give any word reality, is to allow imagination to control one’s actions, to control one’s being.
Is to allow imagination to adjudicate one’s illusory world in so many bittersweet ways.
How much simpler, how much more real and genuine, to just be, to just allow.
To give your self, over to Self, and be the mystery-given awareness,
In which the mystery all Creation every moment streams.
Own Your Essence
Bow to no idol.
Defer to no idolater.
Fathom your own essence.
A Sprint to Oblivion
All our industries, all our technologies, all our arts, all our ambitions,
Only frenzy us to generate more and more and more.
And more, more is never enough.
And less, a loser’s gait.
All of it, nothing more than,
Another day of racing stoplights,
Another day of chasing clocks and calendars.
Partnering and competing with all our oh-so-many creations.
An absurd, calamitous, often-malevolent, extremely pain-ridden, sprint to oblivion.
The Church of Now
The awareness, the moment, is cathedral enough, religion enough, faith enough, for any true truth-seeker.
No need to hold off, for the relatively few routine occasions, when witnessing the ineffable mystery,
Can be an any-moment rebirth, whenever the inclination arises, in any given mind’s existence.
There is no need for any ministry, any assembly, to buttress those able to prevail alone.
Of the Eternal Quest
Do not doubt, there is a point and purpose, to all these reflections.
Do not doubt, all the ironies and paradoxes, all the riddles, all the koans,
Have been set before You, that You will one day reach the destiny that beckons.
The only thing required, is that You – humbly, dutifully, faithfully, earnestly, patiently –
Submit to whatever – long and winding and bizarre and confusing and nonsensical – rabbit hole,
You now meander, so that the allotted dream detaches, from all the imaginary notions, to which it clings.
Nothing is assured, but know that this eternal quest, is one that has called many through the ages.
And it is in the momentary journey – none ever in any way similar – that all fates are cast.
And realize also, that wherever the walkabout ferries You, it will all be for naught.
The treasure will be, but a fistful, of nothing more than irony and paradox.
Truth is but the eternal moment, through which all illusion wafts.
Nothing Matters
All the all’s,
All the none’s,
All the if’s,
All the and’s,
All the but’s,
All the who’s,
All the what’s,
All the where’s,
All the when’s,
All the why’s,
All the how’s,
All the above’s,
Matter not.
The Last Storyteller
Who will be the last historian?
Who will have the timeline’s unparalleled perspective?
Who will have the last say, on how the human paradigm finally extinguished itself?
And what was left of the garden on this spinning pale blue dot,
In its kaleidoscoping journey to oblivion?
Many Are Called, Few Are Chosen
Many are called, few are chosen.
Not easy for imagination to let go of a mind-body,
It has inhabited, it has usurped, with its veil of illusions and delusions.
All its memories, all its knowledge, all its passions, all its vanities, all its agonies, all its ecstasies.
For as long as it can remember.
The Mortal Player
Imagination is always out and about, on the hunt for one morsel or another.
But as magnificent as it imagines itself to be, it is but a vain, mortal player.
An Absolute Mystery
When jars break, there are no ripples in the quantum absolute.
The same is true for any form, mortal or otherwise.
All things morph into what they ever are,
In this ineffable mystery.
There is no other in the unchanging.
Of Pharaohs and Cart Pushers
All existence plays out a unique skewing of biological coding,
That was inexplicably etched almost four billion years ago.
That nature was nurtured in an inimitable environment, as well.
To expect that all forms can be adaptable to any given circumstance,
Does not match the Darwinian reality life ever faces in any given moment.
Ergo, to think that all human beings are equally suited for the civilized existence,
We now inextricably find ourselves in, in this our modern world, is just not at all feasible.
Most of that four-billion-year human history operated at the hunter-gatherer level,
And the resume required to survive and thrive in so many concrete jungles,
Can only be achieved by only so many mind-body-spirit two-leggeds.
The rest will hunt and gather wherever their carts are allowed.
The Wonder! The Wonder!
Wherever You might be, in this one and only ineffable, eternal moment,
In this one and only unborn-undying right-here-right-now, how is it, that You are not
– Engrossed, absorbed, captivated, enthralled, spellbound, immersed, fascinated, riveted, mesmerized –
In the wonder of it all?
The History of the Mystery
The history of the mystery, is everything imaginable, and nothing all the while.
The Jaunt Ahead
Whatever time is left in the human paradigm,
Is way more than likely to be quite a jaunt.
Anything is possible, and nothing is sure.
Beyond All Beyonds
The unifying principal is the awareness in everything.
The unifying principal is the indelible moment in everything.
The unifying principal is the unborn-undying mystery in everything.
The unifying principal is the Self, the You, in the entirety.
The unifying principal is the beyond all beyonds.
A Letter to Some Editor
Write down all your aggrieved, whiny, petty complaints, in a letter to some editor.
And then, for all the astounding changes that it will bring about,
Be sure to mislay it on the way to the post office.
La Raison de Tout Cela (The Reason for All This)
When all the words, when all the thoughts, become more than assertions;
When they at last morph into their mark; when they finally achieve;
That to which they have been raison-d'être pointing all along;
When they finally dissolve into the awareness You are;
The illusory You, will be the eternal You-ness,
You are, have always been, will ever be.
The History of the Mystery
The history of the mystery,
Is everything imaginable,
And nothing all the while.
The Eternal Moment
The moment creates nothing.
The moment preserves nothing.
The moment destroys nothing.
The moment bestows nothing.
The moment takes nothing.
The moment does nothing.
The moment is nothing.
Naught But Illusion
The momentary awareness, is the harbor of neither space nor time.
Nor does it offer perch to any imaginary notion, nor any form wafting through.
It creates nothing, it preserves nothing, it destroys nothing, it offers nothing, it takes nothing.
Your body, your world, your cosmos, are only as large as You imagine them.
Disregard the senses, still the mind, and all disappear.
The dreamtime is but an illusion.
As are You.
Imaginary Witness to the Quantum Matrix
The eyes are spaceless-timeless sensors.
The ears are spaceless-timeless sensors.
The nose is a spaceless-timeless sensor.
The ears are spaceless-timeless sensors.
The tongue is a t spaceless-timeless sensor.
The dermis is a spaceless-timeless sensor.
The brain is a spaceless-timeless processor.
And awareness is witness to the world, the cosmos,
They all together kaleidoscope in eternity’s indivisible quantum matrix.
A dreamtime, unique in every sentient being, this ineffable mystery has ever inexplicably created.
A Mystery Beyond All Reckoning
What rhyme or reason is needed,
What rhyme or reason is even possible,
When there is a mystery beyond all reckoning,
And minds only capable of grasping a tiny sliver of it.
And idolatry and magical thinking the sagacity of most minds.
Talk, Talk, Talk
You can talk yourself into a lot of things.
You can talk yourself out of a lot of things.
You could stop talking, and do nothing.
The Natural Selection of Existence
In this world of natural selection, in which all life rises and falls,
There is no choice but to drive on through every moment,
Until it all becomes more than can be sustained.
Where rock and hard place at last crush,
And the Angel of Death arrives to carry You home.
Narcissists, All
Is there anyone on this pale blue dot – in any space, any time – including me,
Who does not believe they have discovered the truth of it?
What a narcissistic species we are.
What an endless challenge to be truly agnostic.
The Source of All Delusion
An ever-fleeting, ever ungraspable, ever-unsustainable dream,
Is all it is, is all it has ever been, is all it will ever be.
Those who believe it more, who play it more,
Whose narcissism and hedonism are insatiable,
Act out every delusion the given mind can imagine.
The Teflon Moment
How can karma stick to the moment but through imagination.
Not All Stories are Equal
Yes, the Big Bang Theory is a story, too.
Just positing bit closer to reality, than some out there,
In the gray matter of minds filled with idolatry and magical thinking.
The Same Eternity
It has always been the same eternity, through which all dreams have streamed.
Forget the world, forget the universe, forget everything, even your Self.
Quantum body, quantum mind, quantum soul, quantum dream.
The Pointlessness! The Pointlessness!
The weariness I feel with my take on the human paradigm,
Is beyond measure, many times, in so many situations, in any given day.
How tempting to just pull the plug on everything, to discard all this esoteric commentary,
Back into the oblivion, into the abyss, into the void, from whence it came,
And spend whatever remains of this dreamtime existence,
As quietly, as anonymously, as possible.
But no, I drudge on, as another ditty Magic-8-Ball’s into mind.
Anything
Anything can be changed.
Anything can be disparaged.
Anything can be deprived.
Anything can be denied.
Anything can be rationalized.
Anything can be misused.
Anything can be repudiated.
Anything can be negated.
Anything can be renounced.
Anything can be usurped.
Anything can be ignored.
Anything can be concealed.
Anything can be abused.
Anything can be discarded.
Anything can be spoiled.
Anything can be corrupted.
Anything can be distorted.
Anything can be destroyed.
Neither Here nor There
Eternity is the one and only spaceless-timeless-dimensionless reality.
It requires no name, nor any delusionary fixations born of imaginary notion.
It is the emptiness of awareness, in which all creations come and go, without regard.
In It, but Not of It
You are in a universe, a world, a form, a mind, a space, a time, a dream … but never of it.
Un-Examined v. Examined
Which sucks better? The unexamined life, or the examined one?
To spend one’s life playing out every sort of distraction?
Or siting alone in dark corners scribbling absurdity,
Relatively few will ever bother to examine?
It is a question only time will answer.
The Given Dimension
All life on Earth-Gaia-Eden,
Is bound by its given sensory scope,
In a dimension of the manifest mortal kind.
The Seed Principle
Your dream began as a zygote in your mother’s womb,
Unleashed by an orgasmic dice throw of your father’s ejaculate.
And each of your parents came into this dreamtime in the same manner –
Through the commingling of seeds of their parentages – as did theirs before them.
As all life has, however this all came to be, in the over four billion orbits round our modest star.
You are the current issue, of all the existence that has evolved, mutated, natural-selected.
Are You the mind-body-spirit, to which You are so, through imagination, attached?
Or the awareness, that permeates all things, in this moment ever-unending?
An ever-present now, unborn-undying, with neither beginning nor end.
A vast quantum mystery, which, despite all apparent differences,
Is the same indivisible, intangible, unfathomable, oneness.
Every seed, but a one-time-only, one-trick-pony show.
It is You that is the reality, not the sensory theater.
It is the You, that the is the sky for all creation.
A Pipe Dream of God
The longest view of history – to be nothing more than imaginary confabulation –
Is that all Creation, that all Genesis, came and went in an instant,
And that, for all practical purpose, never happened,
As more than a pipe dream of God.
How would any less a vision even be possible?
Yes, God is great beyond measure, no naming required.
Missing Out
If You expect the all-mighty wampum in exchange,
You may well miss out on your life’s greatest passion.
This Very Instant
To be the free-est free, You can ever really be,
You, must see it, must be it, must do it,
This very, very, very instant.
The Moderation-Checker
No, stop, there are just some things, You need not do.
Never hurts to keep your moderation-checker at hand.
Proceed With Caution
When You enter any pathway, any sidewalk, any street, any highway, any crossway,
Be sure to look left, be sure to look right – twice or thrice, if there is the time.
The physics of this manifest dream make no allowance for forgiveness.
The You in Eternity, the Eternity in You
Where is flat, where is round?
Where is up, where is down?
Where is all, where is none?
Where is yes, where is no?
Where is truth, where is lie?
Where is this, where is that?
Where is here, where is there?
Where is space, where is time?
Where is black, where is white?
Where is sound, without a mind?
Where is mind, without a sound?
Where are You, without a mind?
Where are You, without eternity?
Where is eternity, without You?
The You That Imagines Who
Who imagines who?
Who imagines what?
Who imagines where?
Who imagines when?
Who imagines why?
Who imagines how?
Who imagines You?
Who imagines You?
The World That Is Nigh
Humankind's tool-making aptitude –
From the first sharpened-in-the-fire stick-spear,
Capable of defending the tribe and hunting the mastodon,
To the last nuclear warhead capable of killing millions in an instant –
Has taken the species down a path from which there very little chance of return.
All any of us peons can do, is live out each day as nimbly and pleasantly,
As our little slices of geography, and these modern times, allow.
Always Remember
Always try to remember, that your story,
Is really nothing more than imaginary fabrication.
Nothing more than chemical-electrical-biological interplay.
All the zilch-nada-zip-nil-zero-null-aught-zippo-void of nothingness.
The mystery, the awareness, pretending the ineffable menagerie,
Is more than quantum stardust patterned unto existence.
Believe in Nothing
Do not believe anything the inner voice tells You.
Do not believe anything the inner voice pretends real.
Do not believe anything the inner voice believes true.
It is all nothing more than the chicanery of stardust.
A temporal invention fashioned by imagination.
A touchy-feely, three-dimensional delusion.
Nothing more, nothing less, nothing but.
Recipe for a Peaceful Existence
If all You truly want out of your moment, is a serene existence,
Just find pleasant spots to sit, eyes open or closed,
Or take long aimless-wandering walks,
Followed by good naps,
And just, breath in, breath out.
Boiling It Down
The human paradigm – from dawn to sunset – all boils down to vanity and greed.
Narcissism and hedonism, channeled through the seven arduous dualities:
Pride and envy and gluttony and lust and wrath and greed and sloth.
Manifested physically, emotionally, mentally, in every way.
Tempered only through moderation of the grit-and-gumption sort.
Becoming You
Become the awareness,
Become the stillness,
Become the moment,
Become the impenetrable,
Become the unconditional,
Become the totality,
Become the inexplicable,
Become the imperceptible,
Become the nonduality,
Become the unborn,
Become the unspeakable,
Become the inconceivable,
Become the timeless,
Become the unknowable,
Become the indivisible,
Become the impartial,
Become the unequivocal,
Become the immaculate,
Become the indivisible,
Become the inexpressible,
Become the imperceptible,
Become the undying,
Become the unfathomable,
Become the solitude,
Become the indefinable,
Become the indelible,
Become the undeniable,
Become the intangible,
Become the everlasting,
Become the ineffable,
Become the mystery,
And You, will be You.
Give It Your Best Shot
What else is there to do, but play out the attributes of whatever seed You inhabit,
As best the givens of mind and body and spirit and circumstance,
Of time and geography and tribal persuasion, allow.
Eternity’s Magnum Opus
Eternity’s kaleidoscope.
Eternity's lights how.
Eternity’s rainbow.
Eternity’s ecstasy.
Eternity’s agony.
Eternity’s chaos.
Eternity's grunge.
Eternity's mayhem.
Eternity’s starkness.
Eternity’s callousness.
Eternity’s irrationality.
Eternity’s rationality.
Eternity's absurdity.
Eternity’s madness.
Eternity's delusion.
Eternity's illusion.
Eternity’s clarity.
All of the above.
None of the above.
The Unknowable
Now can never be known.
Stillness can never be known.
Awareness can never be known.
Nothing can never be known.
Truth can never be known.
God can never be known.
You can never be known.
A Good Space to Hang
All we are is crunchy-chewy-gooey with imagination.
A bubble of detachment is a good space to hang.
No need to suffer along with the mind-body.
A Nod is Enough
If it is fated for these way-too-many thoughts to be discovered, I would prefer it be after I am rootbound.
Have never sought the weight of power, the rattle of gold, or the bother of groupthink.
Scribing all this has peaceably filled a great deal of this existence.
A pleasant pastime, to be channel for this mystery.
Being rewarded for such a gift, is given its due, with a nod of a head.
The Freedom of the Unborn-Undying
Space and time are such an indelibly surreal dreamtime-showtime.
A conspiracy of the sensory mind-body’s kaleidoscoping cosmos.
No story can ever begin to capture or own this ineffable mystery.
Born Anew
Imagine your Self born anew.
Without history, knowing nothing.
Hearing the mystery for the first time.
Viewing the mystery for the first time.
Smelling the mystery for the first time.
Feeling the mystery for the first time.
Tasting the mystery for the first time.
Do it now, do it now, do it now.
Again and again and again.
Every single moment,
You possibly can.
The Freedom of the Unborn-Undying
Space and time are such an indelibly surreal dreamtime-showtime.
A conspiracy of the sensory mind-body’s kaleidoscoping cosmos.
No story can ever begin to imprison or own this ineffable mystery.
This touchy-feely, three-dimensional play house, witnessed by You.
The Difference Between
The difference …
Between black and white,
Between day and night,
Between good and evil,
Between large and small,
Between life and death,
Between bitter and sweet,
Between sound and silence,
Between left and right,
Between kind and cruel,
Between full and empty,
Between hot and cold,
Between order and chaos,
Between love and hate,
Between right and wrong,
Between this and that,
Between near and far,
Between right and wrong,
Between in and out,
Between real and unreal,
Between fact and fiction,
Between thick and thin,
Between peace and war,
Between win and lose,
Between many and few,
Between tall and short,
Between narrow and wide,
Between loose and tight,
Between true and false,
Between yes and no,
Between truth and lie,
Between have and have not,
Between new and old,
Between pleasure and pain,
Between us and them,
Between awake and asleep,
Between sage and fool,
Between creator and creation,
Between You and You,
… is You.
Un-Imagination
Un-imagine your perceptions.
Un-imagine your existence.
Un-imagine your persona.
Un-imagine your mind.
Un-imagine your body.
Un-imagine your name.
Un-imagine your gender.
Un-imagine your family.
Un-imagine your friends.
Un-imagine your romances.
Un-imagine your adversaries.
Un-imagine your knowledge.
Un-imagine your experience.
Un-imagine your sexuality.
Un-imagine your curiosity.
Un-imagine your eyes.
Un-imagine your ears.
Un-imagine your nose.
Un-imagine your tongue.
Un-imagine your sensations.
Un-imagine your stories.
Un-imagine your beliefs.
Un-imagine your values.
Un-imagine your dreams.
Un-imagine your hopes.
Un-imagine your desires.
Un-imagine your passions.
Un-imagine your affiliations.
Un-imagine your skills.
Un-imagine your successes.
Un-imagine your failures.
Un-imagine your interests.
Un-imagine your possessions.
Un-imagine your religion.
Un-imagine your politics.
Un-imagine your treasures.
Un-imagine your You.
Un-imagine your Self.
Un-imagine your moment.
Un-imagine your awareness.
Un-imagine your imagination.
Un-imagine your everything.
Inward Freedom
You can only be as inwardly free, as genuinely free, as You timelessly decide to be.
To tranquilly witness, without emotional attachment, is the key.
There are no ifs, no ands, no buts, about it.
This right here, this right now, do it, be it, own it.
Illusions, All
Who-what-where-when-why-how is You?
Who-what-where-when-why-how is mystery?
Who-what-where-when-why-how is now?
Who-what-where-when-why-how is here?
Who-what-where-when-why-how is space?
Who-what-where-when-why-how is totality?
Who-what-where-when-why-how is time?
Who-what-where-when-why-how is existence?
Who-what-where-when-why-how is birth?
Who-what-where-when-why-how is death?
Who-what-where-when-why-how is awareness?
Who-what-where-when-why-how is consciousness?
Who-what-where-when-why-how is intelligence?
Who-what-where-when-why-how is imagination?
Who-what-where-when-why-how is identity?
Who-what-where-when-why-how is form?
Who-what-where-when-why-how is bondage?
Who-what-where-when-why-how is doubt?
Who-what-where-when-why-how is knowledge?
Who-what-where-when-why-how is enlightenment?
Who-what-where-when-why-how is emancipation?
Who-what-where-when-why-how is liberation?
Who-what-where-when-why-how is wisdom?
Who-what-where-when-why-how is mindfulness?
Who-what-where-when-why-how is eternity?
Who-what-where-when-why-how is reality?
Who-what-where-when-why-how is truth?
Who-what-where-when-why-how is That I Am?
Who-what-where-when-why-how is mystery?
Who-what-where-when-why-how is You?
Illusions, all.
Where-ing Some Prepositions
Where is aboard?
Where is about?
Where is above?
Where is across?
Where is after?
Where is against?
Where is along?
Where is aloft?
Where is alongside?
Where is amid?
Where is apropos?
Where is around?
Where is at?
Where is round?
Where is before?
Where is behind?
Where is below?
Where is beneath?
Where is beside?
Where is between?
Where is beyond?
Where is by?
Where is down?
Where is from?
Where is in?
Where is inside?
Where is like?
Where is near?
Where is off?
Where is on?
Where is outside?
Where is over?
Where is past?
Where is since?
Where is through?
Where is throughout?
Where is to?
Where is under?
Where is underneath?
Where is up?
Where is within?
Where is without?
A Beyond All Pales Rabbit Hole
What was this pale blue dot like before electricity and oil,
Propelled so many human creations into an ever-accelerating exponential?
Before agriculture and industry and technology blew this dust ball down an endless rabbit hole,
From which we, and all our fellow earthlings, will only exit,
In ravaged, scarred, twisted, maligned form.
If we manage to survive at all.
The Absurdity of Assertions
"It has to be something more," is an unprovable assertion.
To even declare "I Am" is an extremely questionable assertion.
And freedom, what is that, really, to the unborn-undying?
The Primal Fear
You certainly do cling to your primal fear.
The Freedom of Death
How free do You really determined to be?
Only the dead are truly free.
Die now.
No Point, No Purpose
Imagination imagines every variety of point and purpose.
The sentience, the awareness, the moment, is the point and purpose.
No validation, no confirmation, no benediction, is required.
Reflections of an Eternal Journey
All these notions are straight-up how I see it.
No regurgitations, no mimicking, no mendacities, no fanatisms.
Just the matter-of-fact, straight-thinking, no-nonsense, down-to-earth, the-way-it-is,
As seen through these older-than-the-stars-younger-than-the-moment eyes.
Naught But You
There is no existence in sentience.
There are no questions in sentience.
There are no problems in sentience.
There are no answers in sentience.
There are no deities in sentience.
There are no dogmas in sentience.
There is no identity in sentience.
There is no space in sentience.
There is no time in sentience.
There is no creation in sentience.
There is no preservation in sentience.
There is no destruction in sentience.
There is no imagination in sentience.
There is no anything in sentience.
There is naught but You in sentience.
The Living Dead
The living who are dead, count themselves few.
The Cosmos You Imagine
The world, the cosmos, the dreamtime,
You see, You hear, You taste, You smell, You feel,
Is but an ever-expanding frame of reference, You alone imagine.
Stardust Come Unto Existence
Stardust somehow morphed into existence,
And it could never more than speculate, how it all came to be.
But rather than be happy … rather than be content … at peace in agnostic grace …
… it argued … it struggled … it battled … over everything imaginable …
… in the forever more … that never ever enough … ever is …
… in monkey minds evolved of Darwinian fare …
So Many Differences
So many differences.
So many distractions.
So many people.
So many things.
So many books.
So many movies.
So many screens.
So many tribes.
So many languages.
So many words.
So many numbers.
So many definitions.
So many opinions.
So many religions.
So many politicians.
So many tourists.
So many stages.
So many colors.
So many shapes.
So many sizes.
So many tools.
So many gadgets.
So many sights.
So many sounds.
So many tastes.
So many smells.
So many textures.
So many dreams.
So many everything.
Staying focused, a challenge for all.
Closed Mind v. Open Mind
The mind is like a hand.
It can be closed into a fist, ready to strike.
It can be open, ready to hold, ready to receive, ready to give.
The mind that is obtuse, misses opportunities, that only an astute one can grasp.
Turtles Up, Turtles Down
This pale blue dot, but a tiny speck,
In the dust storm, wafting in a back porch sunroom,
In a small cottage, on another tiny, spinning speck, in its own universe.
And that universe, but a tiny speck, in yet another universe.
And on and on and on and on and on and on
Turtles up, and turtles down.
Bam!
The Irrelevance of Tradition
Death makes all history absurdly irrelevant.
All tradition is the delusion of imagination.
A Bubble of Detachment
A bubble of detachment is a good space to hang.
Eternity, a Single Moment
Between before and after, between then and when, between twixt and tween,
What can there be, but the timeless awareness, the single moment, all eternity is.
The ‘It Matters Not’ of It All
Just playing out the part that was set in motion since the eternity ago genesis of this manifest illusion.
All the who’s, all the what’s, all the where’s, all the when’s, all the why’s, all the how’s, matter not.
Just You
Just You … very, very, very, exceedingly very, much alone.
Witnessing Your version of a universe, that has never existed as more than a dreamtime pipedream.
Poof! and Bam! and Snap Your Fingers! … All rolled up in One.
Imagining the Unknowable
No matter how much You imagine You know, the unknowable can never be known.
The Wafting Eternal
Truth is but the eternal moment, through which all illusion wafts.
No Hopeful Taste From This Pen
It is a most curious thing how so many writers,
Feel required to leave some hopeful taste in the reader’s mouth.
The reality of it is, that this garden world’s prospects are growing bleaker every day.
There is absolutely no precedent for this manifest mirage as it is unfolding.
Eight billion cancer cells could be nine billion in ten or twenty years,
Assuming it is not well into dystopian collapse long before that.
And, so sorry, there is no way our little two-legged brain,
Is going to keep things rolling forever, no matter,
How ingenious we believe ourselves to be.
The Ponderings of Yaj Ekim, Page 54
Surviving a Beyond-All-Pales Paradigm
How long can a species expect to survive, how long can a species hope to survive,
When it seems to believe, when it behaves as if, it is not at all connected to its original nature,
Is an ongoing question, an ongoing experiment, an ongoing saga, an ongoing beyond-all-pales absurdity,
Through which the human paradigm is barreling, and only the barest sigh of brakes squealing.
The Gifts and Horrors of Imagination
What can a child or imbecile know of history or physics or music or art or war or deprivation?
Not all can know the many gifts and horrors that imagination has wrought,
As it steadfastly works its way toward extinction.
Are You Ready?
The next breath could be your last; are You ready?
This Very Breath
Where else is there to be content, but this very moment.
This very right here, this very right now, this very breath.
Regarding Questions Without Answer
For detachment to be woven into every breath, into every step, requires a quiet mind.
A mind that is not caught up in the tempest of the mundane, illusory world.
Not an easy thing to wander aloof, to be in the world but not of it.
Especially once one has morphed onto long and winding road less travelled.
Especially once one, armed only with doubt, has taken on questions that have no answer.
Embrace It All
Embrace dreamtime.
Embrace narcissism.
Embrace hedonism.
Embrace genius.
Embrace idiocy.
Embrace futility.
Embrace winners.
Embrace losers.
Embrace power.
Embrace fame.
Embrace fortune.
Embrace rationality.
Embrace absurdity.
Embrace joy.
Embrace pain.
Embrace envy.
Embrace passion.
Embrace love.
Embrace hate.
Embrace jealousy.
Embrace tolerance.
Embrace intolerance.
Embrace sorrow.
Embrace good.
Embrace evil.
Embrace greed.
Embrace charity.
Embrace dullness.
Embrace liveliness.
Embrace tedium.
Embrace harmony.
Embrace discord.
Embrace life.
Embrace death.
Embrace creation.
Embrace preservation.
Embrace destruction.
Embrace awareness.
Embrace oblivion.
Embrace everything.
Embrace nothing.
You are all of it.
You are none of it.
Reverse-Engineering the Nature-Nurture
Unplugging from one’s nature-nurture, from the encoding You play out, is impossible.
Stepping back a bit to get an expansive stance, is about all anyone can manage,
Unless they are truly geared to kick the bucket, figuratively or literally.
Be content that You have woken in whatever manner You have.
Stressing to become what You already are, and are not,
Is a tad ironical, is a bit paradoxical, is it not?
Simply being the timeless moment,
While You hash it all out,
Is surely enough.
An Imaginary Construct
Would You exist, without imagination, imagining it so?
A Twinkle in God’s Eye
What will this pale blue dot be like after You are dead and dust?
More than very probable, pretty much exactly the same.
Except for the very few who actually miss You.
And then, someday, they will poof out, too.
But for imagination, it is all exceedingly anonymous.
What is any dreamtime, but a momentary twinkle in God’s eye.
So, the quest of existence, for those bent to inquiry, is to become God’s eye.
The Mindfulness of Happiness
Happiness (a.k.a., the avoidance of sadness and misery and grief and despair), is an endorphin puzzler.
Whether or not, mind-body chemistry can be consciously manipulated, is a life-skill matter.
A moment-to-moment discipline, basically dependent upon attention to attitude.
Which, at times, may compel an indecent iota of self-deception.
The mastering of detachment is paramount.
Mindful breathing is a mainstay element, as well.
Nine Yogic Breathing Practices
for Mind-Body Balance and Healing
Himalayan Yoga Institute
Breathing is the very essence of life and the first thing we do when we enter this world and the last thing when we depart. In between, our bodies absorb roughly half a billion breaths.
Apart from sustaining life, the mind, body and breath are so intimately connected that they deeply influence each other. The way we breathe is influenced by our state of mind, and in turn our thoughts and physiology can be influenced by our breathing. Deep breathing practices advocated in advanced yoga training can have a positive impact on our physiology, both body and mind.
For thousands of years, Yoga and Ayurveda have employed breathing techniques (pranayama) to maintain, balance and restore physical, mental, emotional, and spiritual health. It results in several physiological benefits, achieved through the control of respiration.
The benefits of a regulated practice of simple, deep yogic breathing include:
Muscle Relaxation
Increase in energy levels
Reduced anxiety, depression and stress
Lower/stabilized blood pressure
Regulating your Breath – The Yoga Way
The most simple breathing exercise for calming both the nervous system and the overworked mind is a timed way of breathing where the exhalation is longer than the inhalation. This reduces the tone of your sympathetic nervous system (fight or flight response) while activating your parasympathetic nervous system (the rest, relax, and digest response). Breathing in this way for at least five minutes will bring about a difference in your overall mood. Anyone can do this exercise without having to consult a teacher.
Pranayama Techniques
In addition to the practice of simple deep breathing, ancient yogis have detailed different types of rhythmic deep breathing techniques that can have differing effects on the mind and body. Each of these breathing techniques has specific effects on the mind-body continuum.
Please keep in mind that You should learn the following breathing techniques from a qualified teacher who will also be able to guide You when to practice, how many times and over what period of time. In the Hatha Yoga Pradipika, one of the oldest texts on Hatha yoga, it is said that: “All diseases are eradicated by the proper practice of pranayama. All diseases can arise through improper practice. The lungs heart and nerves are normally strong and gain strength with regulated and suitable pranayama, but weakened with improper practice. By wrong and excessive practice one’s mental quirks and even nervous tics could become exaggerated. Every practice should be treated with respect and caution. Hence guidance is to be sought.
The Yoga Chudamani Upanishad states: “Just as the lion, elephant and tiger are brought under control slowly and steadily, similarly the PRANA should be controlled, otherwise it becomes destructive to the practitioner.
Nadi Shodhana or Alternate Nostril Breathing
A yogic practice that immediately helps You to feel calmer whenever You are feeling anxious or agitated.
Inhale deeply through your left nostril while holding your right nostril closed with your right thumb. At its culmination, switch nostrils by closing off your left nostril and continuing to exhale smoothly through your right nostril. After exhaling fully, proceed to inhale through the right nostril, again closing it off at the peak of your inhalation. Lift your finger off the left nostril and exhale fully. Continue alternating your breathing through each nostril and practice for 3 to 5 minutes. Ensure that your breathing is effortless, and your mind gently focusing on the inflow and outflow of breath. The above description is a beginner’s version of alternate nostril breathing. More advanced versions include regulated breathing on a certain count for inhalation and exhalation as well as breath retention. The Rajadhiraja system of pranayama is a highly advanced practice, which combines alternate nostril breathing with focus on a certain chakra while repeating a mantra. It is only taught individually, hence for those interested to learn more please email us.
Ujjayi or Ocean’s Breath
A cooling pranayama that can help soothe and settle your mind when You feel irritated, frustrated or angry.
Inhale slightly deeper than normal. Exhale through your nose with your mouth closed and constricting your throat muscles. If done correctly, this should sound like waves on the ocean. You can also try this practice by exhaling with your mouth open and making the sound “haaaaah”. Try to make a similar sound with your mouth closed, with the outflow of air through your nasal passages. With some practice, You should then use the same method while inhaling, gently constricting your throat as You inhale. Even though Ujjayi can be practiced once in a while as described above, daily Ujjayi must be prescribed by a teacher, and is given when the Sushumna nadii is sufficiently cleared, hence the need to practice under the guidance of a teacher. It is calming, but has a heating effect, stimulating the process of oxidation. It is contraindicated for low blood pressure.
The Pranayama techniques of deep breathing listed above are geared to improving the levels of energy in the body. Through regular practice, You will soon start to breathe more effectively without making any conscious effort.
Shiitali Kumbhaka or the cooling breath
Fold your tongue lengthwise and inhale deeply through the fold. Close your mouth, hold the breath on a count of eight and then exhale through the nose. Continue for a eight breaths, sustain for a maximum of eight minutes. Thereafter You massage the diseased are of the body (as prescribed in yoga therapy). Benefits of this method include reduced pitta (heat) in the regions of head, neck, and upper digestive tract. It is contraindicated in case of asthma, bronchitis and chronic constipation.
Siitkari Kumbhaka or the hissing breath
This practice has the same basic effects as the shiitali method. Inhale through the nose, hold your breath for eight seconds and exhale through the mouth, while resting your teeth on your tongue and producing the sound s-s-s with your tongue. In addition to reduced pitta, benefits include purification of the senses. The contraindications are the same as for shiitali.
The practice of Shiitali and Siitkari are to be avoided for a period of one hour before and after the practice of pranayama connected with one’s meditation. In general it is best to only practice one pranayama technique at a time.
Brahmari or the humming breath
The inhalation is similar to the ujjayi (detailed above) and during exhalation one has to hum like a bee. The humming results in a resonating vibration in the head and heart. Proceed to take ten deep breaths in this manner and then another ten deep Brahmari breaths while closing both ears during the exhale process. This helps to notably enhance the resonance effect and resultant benefits. This method helps in balancing vata (circulation or flow) in addition to subtly enhancing awareness, both mental and emotional. Additionally, it may be practiced together with yoni mudra (as taught by a teacher). Never practice this method while lying on your back. It has to be practiced while sitting in upright position.
Bhastrika or the bellows breath
A word of caution: This exercise must only be performed under supervision. Close the right nostril and inhale twenty rapid bellows-like breaths through the left nostril. Repeat with twenty more bellows breaths through the right nostril while keeping the left nostril closed. Proceed to take twenty bellows breaths through both nostrils. This method helps draw prana (the life force) into the body and mind, thus clearing out mental, emotional and physical blocks.
Surya Bhedana or the solar breath
Similar to the Nadi Shodhana, inhale through the right nostril and exhale through the left. Repeat this for a minimum of six breaths and a maximum of ten minutes. Benefits include heating and warming breaths that help balance vata in the body. It is contraindicated in case of heart disease, hypertension, epilepsy, hyperthyroidism, peptic ulcer and acidity.
Chandra Bhedana or the lunar breath
Inhale through the left nostril and exhale through the right for a minimum of six breaths and sustain for a maximum of ten minutes. This cooling breath process helps reduce pitta. It should not be practiced by people who suffer from depression, who have mental disturbances, excess mucus and a sluggish digestion.
Active Yogic Breathing
Practice long, slow and deep breaths in and out through the nose as You walk at a moderate pace. Try to extend your inhalations and exhalations as You walk. Keep the count of steps during each full inhale and exhale. Aim to take ten steps or more for each inhale and exhale. This method works to combine the calming effect of breathing with an active lifestyle.
The process of thinking and emotions are both voluntary and involuntary as is the act of respiration. Pranayama (control of the vital life force) can be achieved through the control of the respiration process. Advanced yogic breathing practices bring benefits to the various systems of the body, by improving circulation and thus enhancing the performance of the various organs.
Earth Translated
Earth
Terre
地球
Tero
Lupa
Erde
Γη
Honua
כַּדוּר הָאָרֶץ
Lub ntiaj teb
Jörð
Bumi
Domhan
Wurl
地球
Žemė
Земјата
Papa whenua
ကမ္ဘာမြေ
पृथ्वी
زمین
Ziemia
ਧਰਤੀ
Talamh
Земља
Tierra
Toprak
Daear
Dunia
Yer
Umhlaba
Koyaanisqatsi … Powaqqatsi … Naqoyqatsi
This whirling, pale blue dot, at war – creating, preserving, destroying – every indivisible moment.
A wondrous, magical garden, so bountiful, and yet, so much discontent, so little wisdom.
Eternity, so easily bypassed, by the many, who neither see nor hear nor question.
Instead, they choose … life out of balance … parasitic way of life … life in transition …
… civilized violence … a life of killing each other … crazy life … life in turmoil … life disintegrating …
A state of life that calls for another way of living.
Same Old Paradigm
Yet another beguiling story of deities and demons, oh joy, oh yawn.
The Third Dot
Mother Earth
Garden of Eden
Pale blue dot
Planet of the Apes
Spinning orb
Biosphere
Blue marble
Terra firma
Planet Earth
Whirling globe
Dust ball
Third planet
Twirling sphere
Home world
Gaia
Regarding Eternity
Regarding Eternity, You can never stop what never started.
A Corner of Our Own Making
Is it really any wonder that we have painted ourselves into a corner of our own making?
The deities on high, and the aliens wandering in our midst, must surely be shaking their heads,
As they place their bets in the Bellagio of the Fates, on how the dystopian calamity will all go down.
An Upstream Swim
The eternal mystery is only as obvious as any given mind can upstream swim.
All We Really Are
All we really are is living substance.
Quantum blobs of crunchy-chewy-gooey protoplasm.
Equipped with mask, hands and feet, hair and nails, lungs and larynx.
A cosmos built by eyes and ears and skin and nose and mouth.
And a brain, programmed, hardwired for imagination.
Impromptu Shakespearian theater dreamtime.
Illusional-delusional from the get-go.
You Are Your Own Law
What law but his own can bind the explorer of consciousness?
The Point of Meditation
Meditation is simply observing the mind so astutely,
That You clearly see nothing is there but imaginary notion.
That You are utterly alone, witnessing the eternal mystery, You are.
Indivisible, immeasurable, unfathomable, unborn, undying, ineffable, absolute.
Oh So, So True
Love is a word, a sound, an articulation, a metaphor, a vibration, an electrochemical reaction,
That whooshes through the ductless glands and viscera of the given mind-body,
In such a way, as to make true believers, truly believe, the promise,
The potential, the delusion, the tall tale, oh so, so true.
Alas, that it is truly nothing more than naturally-selected endorphins,
That aided and abetted the propagation, the survival, the domestication, of the species.
Duality v. Nonduality
In a dualistic cosmos, there is good and evil.
There every continuum between any given this and that.
In a nondualistic, sensible, reasoned, rational, scientific dreamtime,
There are merely explicable nature-nurture outcomes.
Magical thinking or objective inquiry?
As always, You decide.
The Irony! The Irony!
We would laugh loud at rats in suits and pigs in lipstick and goats in dresses.
But we do, indeed, take our own narcissisms, our own hedonisms,
Our own ironies, our own paradoxes, oh so seriously.
So much of everything; so little wisdom.
Imagine
Imagine, a space, a time, where there is not even one graven image to imagination’s immortal delusions.
Where simple, austere, earnest, placid, mindful folk, wander about their business, quietly content.
How is it that our kind has so squandered its way down the rabbit hole of consciousness?
How is it we have embraced the narcissisms and the hedonism, to such a degree,
As to be on the verge of extinction, in this immaculate, magical garden?
How is it, that more – power, fame, fortune – is never enough?
How is it, so few are serenely, quietly abiding, in the eternal moment?
The Imaginary Guise of Awareness
Awareness has no persona, but what the wind of imagination whooshes through it.
Regarding the Eternal You
… How have You never been? … How will You never be? …
… Who have You never been? … Who will You never be? …
… What have You never been? … What will You never be? …
… When have You never been? … When will You never be? …
… Where have You never been? … Where will You never be? …
… Why have You never been? … Why will You never be? …
A Sisyphean Reckoning
Every mind, its own Sisyphean reckoning.
The Inattentive Mind
If You are inattentive to your breathing,
Bet that imagination has You in its clutches once again.
Probably for the umpteenth moment that day,
And more than likely this one, too.
The Grand Illusion
With or without any given mind’s attention,
The moment is ever the same nowness, ever the same stillness.
All sensory inputs – vision, sound, taste, smell, touch – that imply space and time,
Are the illusion of a dreamtime born of an ineffable mystery.
Every Awakening
Every awakening is its own mind.
Every awakening is its own dream.
Every awakening is its own story.
Every awakening is its own time.
Every awakening is its own space.
Every awakening is its own pattern.
Every awakening is its own frame.
Every awakening is its own stage.
Every awakening is its own tempo.
Every awakening is its own blend.
Every awakening is its own values.
Every awakening is its own fluency.
Every awakening is its own dark.
Every awakening is its own gray.
Every awakening is its own light.
Every awakening is its own display.
Every awakening is its own muddle.
Every awakening is its own mania.
Every awakening is its own agony.
Every awakening is its own ecstasy.
Every awakening is its own clarity.
Every awakening is its own logic.
Every awakening is its own merit.
Every awakening is its own lucidity.
Every awakening is its own menagerie.
Every awakening is its own beginning.
Every awakening is its own process.
Every awakening is its own end.
No two alike.
If There Truly Was Free Will
If there truly was free will,
You could wake up an old Chinese woman,
Speaking Mandarin, smoking cigarettes out in the rice fields.
And real as this dreamtime seems, we well know the odds of that are nil to none.
Unless You are that old Chinese woman, speaking Mandarin,
Smoking cigarettes out in the rice fields.
The Same Eternal Moment
What we call time, with all our sundials and clocks and calendars and whatever else,
Is merely the measurement of our little dust ball’s kaleidoscoping orbit,
Around a kaleidoscoping sphere of fire and brimstone,
All trapsing through the same moment,
That eternity is, has always been, will ever be.
The Dust of Stars
And we, the dust of stars,
Come unto existence,
Come unto sentience,
Come unto awareness,
Come unto consciousness,
Come unto imagination,
Come unto alertness,
Come unto cognizance,
Come unto vision,
Come unto judgment,
Come unto shrewdness,
Come unto resourcefulness,
Come unto sensitivity,
Come unto empathy,
Come unto mobility,
Come unto creativity,
Come unto inspiration,
Come unto perception,
Come unto ingenuity,
Come unto knowledge,
Come unto lightness,
Come unto darkness,
Come unto wakefulness,
Come unto discernment,
Come unto understanding,
Come unto realization,
Come unto mindfulness.
We, the quantum dust of stars,
Are witness to the ineffable mystery of it,
For as long as this théâtre de l’absurde deigns it so.
The Tyranny of Imagination
Through evolution, humankind gradually relinquished its sovereign sentience to imagination.
All belief systems are one imaginary concoction or another, none in any way-shape-form real.
What point being engaged, being governed, being waylaid, by whims fueled by such foolery?
All the vanities – power, renown, fortune – are but instincts given over to the falseness of self.
Through ceaseless narcissism and hedonism, we exiled our kind from nature, from the garden.
There is no return to the natural order, but through the exorcism of the invasive fallaciousness.
It is an undertaking for which only the rarest of the rare are suited, ergo the sprint to oblivion.
The Observer and the Observed
The observer is the observed; the observed is the observer.
All That Is, All That Is Not
All that is, all that is not, That is God.
Anything less is the idolatry of narcissism.
It has no face, it has no name. it has no creed.
It has no need for any inventions of consciousness.
All forms, all dreams, are but temporal drops,
In the ocean of its interminable infinity.
After The Great Fall
Some will perhaps survive after The Great Fall,
But their world will be in the dystopian wreckage,
Erected by imagination’s woefully voracious theatrics.
And there is no one to impugn, to condemn, but ourselves.
All the deities we have imagined, played no part, whatsoever.
And yet all the true believers will continue to pray for forgiveness,
To whatever deities our flawed time has bequeathed them,
And likely many more, they on their own conjure.
The algorithm will not allow otherwise.
From Full to Empty
For consciousness to let go of the world, the universe it has created,
Requires a detachment born of insight towards which few minds have inclination.
The craving for more, the greediness for more, must have quenched itself upon its own weariness.
So saturated that it seeks naught but that emptiness, that silence, that oblivion,
From which its ineffable, indelible mystery is sustained.
No Exit
Natural selection has taken our kind,
Down a rockier and rockier blind alley,
From which the only upshot is extinction.
We might make effort to change tack,
But that would deprive us our fun.
What Five Senses Create
Only the eyes give You sights.
Only the ears give You sounds.
Only the nose gives You smells.
Only the tongue gives You tastes.
Only the flesh gives You sensations.
Only the mind-body gives You a cosmos.
Take away one or more, that cosmos diminishes.
Add one or more, and what would that universe become?
What perceptions this mystery capable of rendering,
Is left to the limits of imagination’s imagination.
The Hunter-Seeker
What is any seeker but the hunter of countless mysteries unknown and unknowable.
The most elemental-fundamental-essential common denominator is the primordial spirit.
Wisdom is distillation of experience; sympathy and empathy, among its chief fermenting agents.
Alternating Voices
Regarding titles in this opus,
There is the ‘me’ voice, and there is the ‘Me’ voice.
Leftovers and Soundbites are the ‘Me’ and ‘My Self’ and ‘I’ rabbit dens.
Breadcrumbs lurk in the imaginary, more-likely-illusionary ‘me-and-myself-and-I’ wormhole.
It is a most challenging thing to walkabout this mortal quantum dreamtime,
And not be drawn willy-nilly into its distracting nature,
Same as all the other dreamers.
The Weight of the Moment
The moment has no weight but what the imaginary mind carries through it.
Prior to All Claims
Your cosmos will expand as far as You, or You,
Are able to see and hear and taste and touch and feel and think,
Until death beckons, and all adjourn into the oblivion prior to all cosmic claims.
Something for Everyone
There is likely something somewhere herein, for just about everyone.
This mystic wandering opus is not bound by the boundlessness of Eternity.
This mind’s penchant for living and dying, wanders easily afield in every manner.
“The dark side ain’t dark to me,” is a first and foremost go-to meme for this waggish mind.
The Limits of All Storylines
God is far too omnipresent, too omniscient, too omnipotent, to be subjugated by any mindset’s storyline.
The Great Quantum
Quantum mystery.
Quantum eternity.
Quantum matrix.
Quantum ineffable.
Quantum immaculate.
Quantum dream.
Quantum hologram.
Quantum dance.
Quantum timeless.
Quantum dust.
Quantum inexplicable.
Quantum indelible.
Quantum unknowable.
Quantum absolute.
Quantum supreme.
Quantum oblivion.
Quantum infinitesimal.
Quantum duplicity.
Quantum reverie.
Quantum kaleidoscope.
Quantum infinity.
Quantum immutable.
Quantum immeasurable.
Quantum esoteric.
Quantum immensity.
Quantum unchanging.
Quantum indivisible.
Quantum majesty.
Quantum perpetual.
Quantum theater.
Quantum awakening.
Quantum ageless.
Quantum formless.
Quantum immortal.
Quantum witness.
Quantum unborn.
Quantum undying.
Quantum omnipresent.
Quantum omniscient.
Quantum omnipotent.
Quantum everything.
Quantum nothing.
Improvise, Adapt, Overcome
How You and your tribal cohort may have done something before,
Does not one smidgeon of an iota matter, if the sought option no longer exists.
U.S. Marines have a mantra for such obstacled moments: improvise, adapt, and overcome.
Gumption and grit are fundamental determinants of any given destiny.
Their conscious cultivation is paramount.
History’s Black Hole
Someday, when the internet and all the technology crashes and burns,
As it must inevitably, for any of many unrhymed reasons,
Its epoch of history will be a black hole.
If anybody cares to even bother about it by then.
A Dubious Concept
Free will is an extremely dubious concept.
Yet Again
Every breath, an opportunity to awaken.
To be reborn, to reincarnate,
Yet again.
Whatever the facade.
Not Even One Iota
What the senses, a dollop of gravity, and a little light, hath created.
Guaranteed, your cosmos does not care one iota what You think or do.
The Conditioned Mind
You have been taught by your given culture, by your given educational system,
To ponder on the world, to ponder on the universe, to ponder on anything, everything.
And it is hard to surrender, the always curious, always inquiring, always problem-solving mind.
Learning to sit, learning to walk, to work, to play, to endure, with a calm mind, is a practice, a discipline,
For which schooled, coached, drilled, trained, habituated, disciplined, conditioned minds,
Are not, without great resolve, great grit, great gumption, easily suited.
Who is Free?
Only the spaceless-timeless, unborn-undying, unfathomable-ineffable, are free.
The Trick
The trick is to not become a target; to avoid dark places,
And look any and all directions before entering any pathway.
The Futile Quip
A derogatory word or quip means nothing to the truth.
A derogatory word or quip does nothing to transform the truth.
A derogatory word or quip does little more than sow vanity and division.
No Happy Ending
Eight billion two-leggeds, seven of them in the last two hundred-ish years.
What electricity and oil and a beyond-all-pales predilection for tool-making hath wrought.
A world totally flummoxed, by all the vanity and greed, and interminable absurdity.
There is no happy ending to this self-absorbed, planet-of-the-apes narration.
The Vast Indifference
Humankind is just a blip in world history, in cosmic history.
So many issues are icebergs in the vast indifference through which we course.
Climate change, extinction, pollution, resource depletion, over-population, economic collapse.
Plus the possibility of a nuclear exchange, and resulting technological collapse,
Could well make this absurdity asylum seem very large again,
Far sooner than most would ever choose.
Where, Exactly?
Where, exactly, is this … “Me" … ”Myself” … “I” …
That You have so intently, absorbedly, diligently, thoroughly, meticulously, painstakingly,
Spent your entire crunchy-chewy-gooey existence imagining?
A Dead-End Road
The human paradigm has long since become a friggin' insane-beyond-all-insanes asylum.
The engineers and all their minions have enticed us down a dead-end road.
How happy, how content I am, to be almost done with it.
Don’t Let It Wear You Down
Best to watch your present times with as much detachment as can be mustered.
There are not too many windows in history that are not packed with absurdity and bullshit.
Democracy has been an interesting experiment, but it, like everything else,
Is doomed to drift, to fade, into obscurity, sooner or later.
You do not have to let it wear You down.
Exceedingly Very Much Alone
Just You – very, very, very, exceedingly very, much alone – witnessing Your version of a cosmos.
The Wagging Finger
Is ethics, and all the righteousness and morality, that has ever been bandied across the world
– All the lists of virtues and vices and rights and wrongs, and judgments of every sort of imagined deity –
Really anything more, than what all the lesser apes milling about in windswept forums,
Have over and over come up with, to make themselves feel better,
About having little or no say who rules the jungle,
Who gets the biggest pile of gold.
Might makes right,
And weakness wags its finger.
Such a Harsh Species
How calloused and self-serving, those who come along well after,
And demean or alter or trample, the handiworks of others,
Who gave full measure to their inspired creation.
Ever the Same Moment
It is ever the same moment; You just move through it.
It is ever the same moment; You just imagine through it.
It is ever the same moment; You just exist through it.
It is ever the same moment; You just participate through it.
It is ever the same moment; You just dream through it.
It is ever the same moment; You just omniscient through it.
It is ever the same moment; You just perceive through it.
It is ever the same moment; You just passion through it.
It is ever the same moment; You just visualize through it.
It is ever the same moment; You just ponder through it.
It is ever the same moment; You just engage through it.
It is ever the same moment; You just omnipresent through it.
It is ever the same moment; You just unborn through it.
It is ever the same moment; You just undying through it.
It is ever the same moment; You just omnipotent through it.
It is ever the same moment; You just create through it.
It is ever the same moment; You just preserve through it.
It is ever the same moment; You just destroy through it.
A Random Collection of Soundbites
What – about the unborn-undying, spaceless, timeless, indelible, ineffable abyss – can ever be known?
You, all alone – in a cosmos, a world, a form, a mind, a space, a time, a dream – but never of it.
Mind can be a torture chamber, or a joyful celebration; every moment its own imaginary revelation.
An immaculate conception, witnessed through the all-seeing, unborn-undying, eye of awareness.
How can it all go on and on and on, but through the illusions-delusions-absurdities, of vanity and avarice?
A good full breath, contains all the detachment that is needed, to offset the illusionary quantum matrix.
To see it, to be it, to the unborn-undying of the essential beingness, is the every-moment challenge.
The quantum matrix is an ineffable mystery to its common denominator, the one and only nothing.
No matter how You label, how You quantify, how You interpret the stardust, it is always the same illusion.
Everyone has a cadence, a drumbeat, a heartbeat, to which they diligently march out their destinies.
All differences attain the same grave, all stories are but imaginary tales, be and allow is the highest law.
There is no end, to the myriad ways and means consciousness can cut the pie, it has in imagination baked.
Hero or villain or nonentity, everyone has a story, in this quantum stardust dreamtime of consciousness.
How many truth-seekers are there, really, who will not settle for one lie or another along their journey?
The eternal moment, the eternal awareness, the eternal You, is free and clear of any-and-all trespass.
When the edifice of the illusional-delusional mind-body collapses, the You, You are, is all that remains.
Streaming on and on; eternally connected in that ever-and-ever-forever kind of indivisible way.
The world, the universe, and all that it has set into motion, only exists, because You imagine it so.
It all being indelibly, ineffably indivisible, how can there be more than one moment for all eternity?
All personal deities are nothing more than projections that exist only in the neuron trails of imagination.
You came, You saw, You listened, You tasted, You smelled, You touched, You pondered, You departed.
The infinity of momentary awareness, peering out in every way, into that which is both part and whole.
The human paradigm, the human story, from beginning to end, is all just the poof of imagination.
It is all awareness, in which neither space nor time can achieve more than ephemeral appearance.
You are the infinite, timeless, ineffable moment, stretching across all creation; there is no other.
Wisdom is distillation of experience; sympathy and empathy, among its chief fermenting agents.
Mind is creation, mind is preservation, mind is destruction, mind is everything, mind is nothing.
Imagination is the Great Jester; always waiting in the wings, for inattention to teleport it centerstage.
The embers of memory are always ready and waiting, to be fired up in the furnace of imagination.
Is it real hunger, or just the insatiable quantum mind, choosing between different sensations?
Imagination is always out and about, on the march, on the hunt, questing one thing or another.
As magnificent as it imagines itself to be, imagination is but a mortal player, destined for obscurity.
Why seek forgiveness from any imaginary other, when forgiving your Self is more than enough.
The mind evolved as a problem-solver, and when, without problems, endlessly concocts its own.
His story, her story, its story, my story, your story, their story, our story, the story, a story, all stories.
It is less about what You are doing, than the state, the quality of awareness, in which it is happening.
The moment is absolutely unseeable, unhearable, untastable, unsmellable, untouchable, unanythingable.
Mother Earth, Gaia, is just another spinning particle of dust, in the eternal vastness of your imagination.
Every sentient life form has its own version of a world, of a universe; none the same, all the same.
A quantum matrix, permeated by awareness; consciousness really nothing more than distracting noise.
Imagination concocts every sort of absurdity; none of which have any reality in the moment, whatsoever.
You are but a drop of indivisible awareness, in the immeasurable ocean, of this ineffable mystery.
All the knowledge humankind has ever imagined, is but an infinitesimally tiny speck of the unknown.
There is no groupthink, there is no dogma, there is no priesthood, there is only momentary awareness.
What is any seeker, any quester, but the hunter of countless mysteries unknown and unknowable.
Pretty darned tough for imagination, in its never-ending swirl of space-time, to do anything the same.
What is imagined, can be unimagined; the ever-present moment has a way of forgetting everything.
Scientific Method is the most rational, precise way, to examine this mystery, but it is far from infallible.
Cease trying to hold onto everything, cling to everything, recall everything, and, voila, here-now You are.
Religion is all about imagination’s interminable delusion, that it is something more, than it can ever be.
The quantum mind is a doorway, an entrée to eternity, but You must surrender to your Self to wallow in it.
Do You enter the abyss, or merely realize it is the presence You are, have always been, will ever be.
It all being a phantasmic quantum illusion, your entire existence has been spent talking to your Self.
Yet another moment of extemporaneous Shakespearian théâtre de l’absurde, playing out across all creation.
So many are so adept at examining the illusion in every way, but at some point, what is the point?
Just You – very, very, very, exceedingly very, much alone – witnessing Your version of a cosmos.
Creators generally move on to the next creation well before any applause for the last handiwork.
That God knows who-what-where-when-why-how all this is happening, is an unprovable assumption.
Any paradigm founded and funded by imagination, only has the reality imagination bequeaths it.
The unifying principal is supercalifragilisticexpialidociously simple … It is all one … ‘Nuff said.
Are You really anything more than an in and out of an ocean of air in the kaleidoscoping moment?
How can You ever be late, or in the wrong place, when here now, is the only time and place there is to be.
No matter – how big, how mighty, how prosperous, how renowned – they get, all religions are cults.
If You cannot control your willy-nilly imaginary mind, at least do the favor of not inflicting it on others.
Regarding counting moments, hard to tag a thing that cannot be seen or heard, and does not shuffle about.
The God, so many in imagination project, is really formed and adorned, with their own narcissistic vanity.
Odds are, even that which we call God, by oh-so-many names, does not know how it all came to be.
How seriously we take our imaginary selves, and our relatively brief, narcissistic-hedonistic dreamtimes.
Sacks of genetic material – permeated, pervaded, infused, saturated, soaked – in imagination’s matrix.
The agony of it all creates so many wounds, so many scars, so many tears; why do we do it to ourselves?
The ego mind is but a veil, through which the eye of awareness You are, peers; detached, immortal.
Ultimate truth cannot be usurped by the – brittle swords, false shields, broken chariots – of ignorance.
Unmasking your delusions, is a process not unakin to that of a chick, pecking its way out of its prison.
What combination of any words of wisdom, in what moment, will unlock and unleash your cosmic Self?
How easy to imagine your book the greatest story ever told, when it is the only one You have ever read.
The blade of discernment has a razor’s edge, that only the very wise, have the wit with which to whittle.
Whether it is called good or evil, there are many reasons, why the road less traveled, is less traveled.
Those who speak do not know, those who know do not speak, the ineffable timeless silence stills tongues.
The Differences! The Differences!
Does it really matter how it all started?
Does any story or equation or theory really mean anything?
Is it really worth degrading or enslaving or torturing or destroying so many others,
Just because they are of different cultures, and have different guises, different narratives, different values.
What is it about our Darwinian naturally-selected-nature-nurtured genomic sequencing,
That has so many of our kind, disliking so many differences?
Which Is It? Which Is It Not?
The superstitious mind.
The notional mind.
The selfish mind.
The ignorant mind.
The delusional mind.
The contemptuous mind.
The deranged mind.
The irrational mind.
The speculative mind.
The magical mind.
The avaricious mind.
The hateful mind.
The judgmental mind.
The foolish mind.
The covetous mind.
The contemplative mind.
The meditational mind.
The intelligent mind.
The discerning mind.
The purposeful mind.
The meaningful mind.
The generous mind.
The rational mind.
The generous mind.
The loving mind.
The quantum mind.
The omniscient mind.
The omnipotent mind.
The omnipresent mind.
Which is it?
Which is it not?
A Crunchy-Chewy-Gooey Time Machine
The crunchy-chewy-gooey mind-body, is the one-and-only time machine,
This, or any other quantum-matrix dream-world, will ever know.
And every single planet-of-the-apes two-legged,
Its own very imaginary, kaleidoscoping, timeless timeline.
An Ocean of Dimensions
In the immensity of this quantum matrix, of this ineffable mystery,
It is not inconceivable, that there are countless other dimensions,
Filled with aliens of every scale and caliber, every tint and hue.
The electromagnetic spectrum generating in incalculable ways.
All playing their versions of eternity, right alongside this one.
Our entire cosmos, that seems to us, so incalculably infinite,
Could well be a drifting particle of dust in some rickety attic.
Or theirs, a floating speck in the corner of your watery left eye.
What Would It Be?
Without skin, what could You feel?
Without eyes, what could You see?
Without ears, what could You hear?
Without nose, what could You smell?
Without tongue, what could You taste?
Without mind, what could You imagine?
Without each functioning simultaneously,
Who would your dreamtime universe be?
What would your dreamtime universe be?
When would your dreamtime universe be?
Where would your dreamtime universe be?
How would your dreamtime universe be?
Why would your dreamtime universe be?
The World Wags On
What is all this knowledge that we imagine we know?
What are all these memories, to which we all cling?
They have credence in the manifest world we occupy,
But in the great totality, they are absolutely meaningless.
To discover that which is real, requires a deep steadfastness,
To which few have the interest or capacity, the spirit to explore.
The temporal world is too alluring for most souls to inquire deeply.
And thus, the mind-made biosphere wags on, towards its destined finale.
Imagination’s Dreamtime
The most candid, most sincere, most authentic answer, as to why have I bothered to scribe this opus,
Is the lucidity, the detachment, the hubris, the absurdity, of this nature-nurtured mind’s quixotic meander.
It is the reckoning, the revelation, of a happenstance-happenchance-contemplative-meditative amble.
It is the nothing-more-nothing-less, of this mind’s imaginary perception of an ineffable mystery.
The Nothing Prior to Imagination
Any paradigm founded and funded by imagination, only has the reality imagination bequeaths it.
The quantum matrix is ineffable to its common denominator, the one and only nothing,
And how do You hold on to nothing, when there is nothing to hold on to?
Oh Joy, Yet Another Speculation
Go ahead, douse the human paradigm with another speculation.
The Magic of Imagination
It is only through the magic of imagination,
That the ineffable nothing materializes into the illusion-delusion of something,
For as long as imagination manages to wield it so.
The Miasma! The Miasma!
The miasma of consciousness, the miasma of imagination.
The miasma of everything having to do with the world.
The miasma of everything having to do with the ineffable universe.
The miasma of everything having to do with any imaginary perception, whatsoever.
How can it all go on and on and on, but through the illusions-delusions-absurdities, of vanity and avarice?
God Translated
God
Batara
Jainkoa
Աստված
ঈশ্বর
Bože
Бог
神
Déu
Bůh
Gud
Dio
Jumal
Kalou
Diyos
Jumala
Dieu
Gott
Θεός
Bondye
Akua
אֵלईश्वर
Vajtswv
Isten
Guð
Tuhan
Dia
神
deus
Alla
خدایا
Bóg
خدای
Bóg
Deus
Atua
भगवान
Ilaahow
Mungu
Tanrı
Dduw
Supercalifragilisticexpialidociously Simple
The unifying principal is supercalifragilisticexpialidociously, beyond-all-doubts, so simple.
No need to do the math, or scribe any forum dissertations, or follow any charismatic middlemen.
It is all one.
Bam!
Mind can be a torture chamber, or a joyful celebration; every moment its own imaginary revelation.
An immaculate conception, witnessed through the all-seeing, unborn-undying, eye of awareness.
A good full breath, contains all the detachment that is needed, to offset the illusionary matrix.
To see truth, to be truth, to the heart of your essential beingness, is the every-moment challenge.
… breathe it in … breathe it out … breathe it in … breathe it out … breathe it in … breathe it out …
‘Nuff said.
Nothing Doing
Nothing to do, and all day to do it.
Where’s the Soul?
Where is the soul in imagination?
Where is the soul in awareness?
Where is the soul in anything?
Who came up with such an idea?
Who came up with such an absurdity?
The Rational v. Irrational Mind
Superstition is the fallacy, the delusion, the perversity, to which many an irrational mind clings.
For the paradigm to overcome its irrational limits, would require a cleansing of genocidal proportion.
Too Simple for Words
The unifying principal is supercalifragilisticexpialidociously, beyond-all-doubts, so simple.
No need to do the math, or write any forum dissertations, or follow any charismatic middlemen.
It is all one.
Bam!
Breathe it in, breathe it out.
‘Nuff said.
The Art of Dying to Self
What kind of death is required to be truly liberated from illusion?
To die to your self, You must kill your self.
Figuratively, of course.
For most, it takes some mulling.
This counsel from Hagakure in The Way of the Samurai pertains:
The Way of the Samurai is found in death.
Meditation on inevitable death should be performed daily.
Every day when one's body and mind are at peace,
one should meditate upon being ripped apart by arrows, rifles, spears, and swords,
being carried away by surging waves,
being thrown into the midst of a great fire,
being struck by lightning,
being shaken to death by a great earthquake,
falling from thousand-foot cliffs,
dying of disease,
or committing seppuku at the death of one's master.
And every day without fail one should consider himself as dead.
This is the substance of the Way of the Samurai.
Sally forth, Brave Knight.
Best wishes for a good death.
The Ethics Sideshow
Ethics can be a great pastime, a great distraction, to the forum sorts.
But be mindful getting wedged in the dilettante cluster, if the truth of this ineffable mystery beckons.
The earnest seeker wanders, explores, ponders, leaving no stone unturned.
Ethics plays but a sideshow in the quest.
Naught but a Wannabe
When it comes to being real, imagination will ever and always be a wannabe.
A State of Mind
Being the moment is a state of mind,
Given over to the clear awareness of the no-mind.
Given over to the unborn-undying, ineffable eternity, everything is.
Wander the Mountain
Guaranteed, this world does not care one iota what You think or do.
Keep the mind humble if You seek an anonymous existence.
Wander the mountain until You become the mountain.
Whatever the Fates Ordain
Whatever your genius, if any, may be, may be admirable, even noteworthy,
But that does not guarantee, in any way, that You will be admired, or even perceived.
You may well be fated, destined, kismet, ordained, to play it out unknown and alone, like it or no.
And someday, die in your well-worn chair, your body rotting for several weeks,
Before the next-door neighbor finally notices the stench.
A Text to Bruce
America invited the world's masses, and they have arrived.
That is rough on the losers, rough on the haters, and Trump became their führer.
My prevailing who-gives-a-fuck-where's-the-popcorn line: So it goes, deal with it, get over it, move on.
It is all ultimately just another epoch in history's the-horror-the-horror-planet-of-the-apes stagecraft.
You and I have lived in the most incredible window of history this world has ever experienced.
Tough for all the kids in the day care centers and playgrounds who are going to pay for it.
Seven billion people and a changing climate in a little over 200 years – Hope is dead.
(Bruce: This started out as one of our many back-and-forth texts, and worked itself into an aphorism.
Some guy named Bruce will be lionized in Breadcrumbs 2023 & Beyond and Michael's Rabbit Hole)
The children's book by Shel Silverstein – The Giving Tree – says it all about the human paradigm.
The Giving Tree
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Giving_Tree
(P.S. Hey, just occurred to me to say – while we are still here – that I have always enjoyed our practically lifetime friendship. Forklifting at Joan of Arc was one of my all-time favorite jobs. Sorry about the toe. That moment, the calmness with which You told me the forklift was on your foot, still rings clear in this otherwise vague, aged memory. Never realized what You had endured until You told me years later.)
Whatever Fate Calls
Keep your mind humble, if You seek an anonymous existence.
Wander the mountain, until You become the mountain.
Only the spaceless-timeless-unborn-undying,
Are free to consciously play out whatever fate calls.
The Illusion of the Unborn-Undying
In the given moment, where is the space, where is the time, in which to exist?
Only the imagination of consciousness, flowing in the quantum matrix,
Which is all kaleidoscoping throughout the ether of awareness,
Lends itself to the ineffable illusion, that the unborn-undying You is real and true.
A touchy-feely dream, to which a rare few – and not necessarily fortunate – are drawn to awaken.
The Uniqueness of Every Translation
The awareness of every sentient being, is a unique translation of the same ineffable mystery.
The Moment’s Challenge
The challenge with being present in any given moment,
Is having a mind that is not attached, not clinging,
To all its nebulous memories and perceptions.
A mind free of time is a matchless state.
The analogue dreamtime in its purest form.
Observe Silence
… observe silence ...
… observe stillness …
… observe here now…
… observe awareness ...
… observe everything …
… observe breathing in ...
… observe breathing out …
… observe the aloneness …
… observe the emptiness …
… observe the moment …
... observe the entirety …
… observe the unicity …
… observe eternity …
… observe You …
All the Same Mystery
No matter how many dimensions creation may create, all are of the same mystery.
God is far too omnipresent, far too omniscient, far too omnipotent,
To be subjugated by any mindset’s storyline.
The Curse of the Human Paradigm
Organized religions and cults and philosophies, and all the vanity and pain and horror they engender,
Are they not, the affliction, the misery, the blight, the bane, the curse, the plague, of the human paradigm?
All the tribalism – the nepotism, the cronyism, the favoritism – with which all two-leggeds are wired,
Unable to be undone, unable to be altered, as the Darwinian-Malthusian shadow of extinction,
Exposes its narcissistic-hedonistic flaw – the closed fist of groupthink – for what it is.
The In and Out of Air
Are You really anything more than the in-and-out of air in the kaleidoscoping moment?
What Else Is There but Awareness?
Awareness – being the ineffable all that that the moment is –
Where else is there to travel, what else is there to do,
That is not the fabric of quantum illusion?
No One Can Prove Anything
There are many who might disagree,
With some or much or most or all, written herein,
But no one can prove anything wrong, nor can it be proven right.
The unknown is unknowable unto its Self.
The Evolution of Consciousness
This aphoristic opus was the last narcissistic-hedonistic vanity, that I could be enticed to orchestrate.
These writings, all extemporaneous, seem intent on stirring the potential of consciousness, of imagination,
To another echelon of intrigue in its Darwinian progression, if such a thing is even tenuously possible.
The Intelligence Required
To be a true, detached observer of the human paradigm,
Requires a partnership of emotional and cultural intelligence.
Cultural intelligence or cultural quotient (CQ),
Refers to an individual's capability to function effectively in culturally diverse settings.
Four CQ capabilities:
Motivation/drive, cognition/knowledge, meta-cognition/strategy, behavior/action.
An intelligence-based approach to intercultural adjustment and performance.
Emotional intelligence (EI), also known as Emotional Quotient (EQ),
Is the ability to perceive, use, understand, manage, and handle emotions.
Emotional intelligence also reflects an ability to use intelligence, empathy, and emotions,
To enhance understanding of interpersonal dynamics.
Pretty hard to get far as a philosophe-mystic-seer,
If You have a narrow-minded agenda.
Of Beginnings and Endings
Where is the line between the creation and destruction harbored in every moment?
The real question is not, when do beginnings begin, and endings end?
The question is, do beginnings begin, and endings end?
Process is the kaleidoscoping reality,
And beginning and endings, but imaginary notions.
A Mystery Even Unto God
What – about the spaceless, timeless, indelible, indivisible, infinite, ineffable abyss – can ever be known?
Odds are, even the mystery we call God, by oh-so-many sounds, does not know how it all came to be.
Just You – very, very, very, exceedingly very much alone – witnessing Your version of a cosmos.
An immaculate conception, perceived through the all-seeing, unborn-undying, eye of awareness.
You, all alone – in a cosmos, a world, a form, a mind, a space, a time, a dream – but never of it.
The ego mind is but a veil, through which the eye of awareness You are, peers; detached, immortal.
The blade of discernment has a razor’s edge, that only the very astute, have the wit with which to whittle.
Stand Alone, Free and Clear
The quest for truth can be a long and winding odyssey.
There can be many temptations, many deceptions, many distractions.
And there are many genuine thinkers, many genuine writings, and many artists, as well.
The challenge is to perceive what all the truths, all the untruths, have to offer,
And to not be bound, not be deflected, not be mesmerized, by any.
And, should You ever truly discern the mystery You are,
Is to let it all go, and be alone, free and clear.
Everything
Everything You do now,
Everything You own now,
Everything You hope now,
Everything You want now,
Everything You know now,
Everything You believe now,
Will, with that last exhalation,
All be lost and gone forever.
Child’s Play
Surrendering to the mystery, to the unknown, to eternity, to the moment, is child’s play.
An Obvious Fact
It is an undeniable, indisputable reality, that the entire brain, is indivisibly connected at the quantum level.
It is the coordinating organ that is every moment manifesting your world, your universe.
The perception that wanders the day, that imbibes every variety of trivia,
Is but an eensy-weensy fragment of the workload.
And this indelible, ineffable unicity,
Is true for every life form, no matter the dimension.
From small to great, all sentience perceives its own translation of the mystery.
That Which Can Never Be Proven
How can anyone hoodwink themselves,
Into believing they can prove what can never be proven?
How big does the cosmos have to be, for the humankind to finally realize,
All the speculations, all the assumptions, all the conjectures, all the hearsays, all the theories,
Are nothing but hollow absurdity, all born of the ephemerality of imagination.
And where is that vast universe, when the mind-body departs?
Where is it, without the perceiver that imagines?
Without the dreamer that dreams?
Without the You?
The Matter of Matter
Even that which matters most, matters not.
How Deep Is Doubt?
You can only delve as deep as your doubt.
The Formless Reality
Is the quantum stardust, that which is God?
Or is the quantum stardust, merely kaleidoscoping through God?
Is God some sort of form, or is God formless, and what, pray tell, other than imagination,
Discerns the indelible truth of anything in this ineffable mystery?
The Futility of Tagging the Moment
Regarding counting moments, hard to tag a thing that cannot be seen or heard, and does not shuffle about.
How Shall This Work’s Scribe Be Labeled?
And just to be steadfastly, beyond-all-doubts transparent – I do not much care for the word, prophet.
A little too loaded with historical undertones, to which I do not readily extend my Self.
Seer, mystic, sage, guru, maybe even augur or oracle, are tolerable fits.
If there must be any sound-concept ascribed to it, that is.
Deep, resonate Om-ing might be acceptable.
But try to put a crimp on any and all idolatries.
Ixnay on worshipping garden statues and crucifixes.
Where Is Mind Without Imagination?
What is the carbon-based brain but a mass, a circuitry, a matrix, of neurons.
Nothing more than an infinitesimally infinite abyss; a spacious void,
That only transmutes into psyche when imagination frolics.
Without the unflagging to’s and fro’s, every hither and thither way,
Eternity’s ineffable awareness, remains an inscrutable, anonymous mystery.
You Shall Have No Other Gods Before You
Exodus 20:3-5 in the King James Version states,
“Thou shalt have no other gods before me.”
The perspective that is maintained in this work,
Is that You are one with the mystery; You are absolute.
That everything is God manifest, that the universe is God manifest.
What idolatries, what deceptions, can be put before the You, that is That I Am?
A Shakespearian Paradigm
The entire human paradigm is unconditionally imagined,
A naturally-selected, species-wide, Shakespearian theater, from every get-go.
All history is nothing more than a collection, an accounting, a cataloging, of formless perceptions.
And only the rare awaken, and attend the dreamtime, into which they were cast.
Creating, preserving, destroying – as the moment ordains.
Agony or Ecstasy, You Choose
Mind can be a torture chamber, or a joyful celebration; every moment its own imaginary revelation.
An immaculate conception, witnessed through the all-seeing, unborn-undying, eye of awareness.
A good full breath, contains all the detachment that is needed, to offset the illusionary matrix.
To see it, to be it, to the core of your essential beingness, is the every-moment challenge.
… breathe it in … breathe it out … breathe it in … breathe it out … breathe it in … breathe it out …
The Mystery Contained
Life is just the mystery, caught in a biological mainframe, full of sentience.
The Source of Intelligence
Awareness is the intelligence; consciousness, the imaginary charioteer.
The Solitude of Perception
You are not, You cannot be, held responsible,
For any thoughts played out, in any other’s perception.
You are entirely on your own, You are entirely alone, as are they.
All can only be responsible, accountable, for their own solitary perceptions,
And how that plays out for each, is an imaginary notion called destiny.
Impossible à Faire
Would it even remotely possible,
For every human, across all geographies, across all times,
To even agree a speck of dust is a speck of dust, or a drop of water, a drop of water?
A Thingamajig Called Time
This thingamajig we call time does not truly exist, but in a dream perceived by every given mind.
Clocks and calendars only track the fireball, about which our little pale blue dot orbits.
The fundamental reality is, there is only the unfathomable eternal moment,
Through which the incomprehensible illusion kaleidoscopes.
It has no name, has no meaning, has no purpose,
But whatever imagination imagines.
And no matter the journey,
It can never be more than a dream.
The Relativity of Perception
It only happened that way, because You perceived it that way.
And anyone else present perceived it in their way.
Every frame of reference is matchless.
All histories, minor to major, are but perspectives.
And is there anything forcing You to ponder anything ever again?
Everything is God Manifest
Everything, including You, is God manifest.
Realizing it at the most fundamental level, is the challenge.
To see that the awareness is the eye of God, requires an earnest intention,
In which doubting everything that imagination has fabricated, is an essential ingredient.
It is so inherently natural, so eternally effortless, so utterly right-here-now,
That only the most authentic, only the most real, will discern it.
Anything less, is the stain of imagination’s creation.
Of Heavens and Hells
Attitude is the mindset, the outlook, the posture, the bearing, within all heavens, all purgatories, all hells.
How any given moment is fathomed, how You choose to experience this very instant, is on You.
No deity can orchestrate for You, what You cannot, what You will not, yourself create.
A Whiff of Future Past
The Anthropocene and a changing climate – a pitiless dragon – unfolding its wings upon all earthlings.
And alas for we post-war boomers, we elders, who bask in our unenviable senior moment,
Hoping to somehow evade the consequences of all our narcissistic hedonism,
Our little window of time, and all the consumption it allowed.
We are in for a taste, a whiff, of the future past.
The True Nature of Eternity
Religions, and their dogmatic assertions, all their heavens and hells,
Are about the promise of continuity of your imaginary story.
About something that was never true in the first place.
A denial of the oblivion that has always been.
A denial of the oblivion that will ever be.
A denial of the oblivion that You ever are.
The true nature of all that is timelessly eternal.
Eternity Cannot Be Possessed
No matter how big they get,
No matter how mighty they get,
No matter how prosperous they get.
No matter how renowned they get,
All religions, all sects, are cults.
Eternity cannot be possessed.
Imagination’s Magic Carpet
The dream that the sensory mind perceives, is but quantum illusion.
It is not space and time that imagination yearns to travel.
It is the fog of awareness that must be pierced,
And that is only achievable in imagination’s fictional repertory.
The ever-present, unborn-undying, indivisible moment, can never be transcended.
The Ruse of Imagination
Identification as this or that, or that or this, is the ruse of imagination.
Consciousness is the mishap of evolution, the calamity of natural selection.
It is a spontaneous Shakespearian clusterfuck, entirely created by us and us alone.
Only in the pure awareness of the eternal moment, can You be truly free.
Nature is God’s Expression
Nature is quantum illusion’s expression.
Nature is the unknown's expression.
Nature is the mystery's expression.
Nature is eternity’s expression.
Nature is mind’s expression.
Nature is God's expression.
And all, one in the same.
And You are part of it.
And You are witness to it.
How can there be, any other,
But through imagination’s guile?
A God-Eat-God Cosmos
All existence is both predator and prey.
Nothing is separate or unique or all-powerful.
It is a God-eat-God cosmos, ever the same mystery.
All creation, eternally-kaleidoscoping into new alignments.
The Obliviousness of Eternity
Everything You believe matters,
Does not at all, from the ultimate source's viewless view.
The awareness, the matrix, the mystery, is obvious to your imaginary existence.
You are but the dream of a dream, dreaming its Self real.
Always Remembering, Always Forgetting
You would think You would have figured that out by now.
Or did You, perhaps many times, and this round just as anew.
The Great Nothing
Nothing is greater than any deity real or imagined.
Interpretations Beyond Counting
What is obvious to You,
May not be to another, and visa-versa.
This garden world cloaks too many interpretations to count.
If someone cannot discern what is obvious to You,
There is no real point debating about it,
Much less killing over it.
Levels of Detachment
The level of detachment required,
To be as truly free as free can be in this mortal frame,
Is but for the rarest of the rare few, assuming, of course, it is even possible.
The Truth of Truth
Truth is only true to those who subscribe to it.
Discerning it requires a detachment, accessible to only the rarest of minds.
One must have done enough in their brief illusory dream, to have distilled at least a dollop of wisdom,
That they might meander free and clear, in the ineffable mystery they are.
This Timeless Moment
This timeless moment is the only one there is.
There is no other time, no other place, You can be.
No amount of imaginary deceit can make it otherwise.
No sleight of hand can manufacture alternative states of now.
No scientific inquiry can penetrate the indivisible unknowable of it.
It is what it is, what it has always been, what it will ever be.
And every existence plays out its little algorithm,
Until demise do it move on to whatever,
This ineffable mystery deigns.
Am I?
To even declare "I Am" is a dubious assertion.
The You of Awareness
There is no space in awareness.
There is no time in awareness.
There is no sight in awareness.
There is no taste in awareness.
There is no smell in awareness.
There is no sound in awareness.
There is no texture in awareness.
There is no thought in awareness.
There is no awareness in awareness.
There in naught but You in awareness.
The Kaleidoscoping Now
Daily headlines are the first drafts of tomorrow’s histories.
All imagination’s tomorrows, kaleidoscoping into all its yesterdays.
Every existence, every mind, every moment, its own Sisyphean reckoning.
Whatever Comes to Mind
In this work, is written whatever comes to mind.
Audience or no, agreement or no, approval or no, applause or no.
For naught matters to the great emptiness, the great abyss, the great nothingness,
From whence all appearances, all illusions, kaleidoscope however they will.
How unlikely, that more than a relative few, will ever even hear of it,
Much less imbibe more than a few lines here and there, at best.
For anyone to peruse it all, would be an improbable feat.
One which would be, but another mirage of mind.
The God in Everything
Writers see plots on paper.
Sculptors see figures in marble.
Carpenters see structures in timber.
Chefs taste banquets on cutting boards.
Musicians hear symphonies in their dreams.
Mothers nurture children in their wombs.
Sailors chart courses around the world.
Generals fight battles on their maps.
Painters see landscapes on canvas.
Creation teems in every genre.
You are me, and I am You.
All others are but imaginary mirages.
How is it that You do not see God in everything?
That You are the Self of God manifest.
A Most Apparent Answer
Any existence is but momentary perception,
And memory, but a collection of whatever takes root,
And blossoms into a very imaginary, very impromptu identity.
Are You an illusional-delusional perception of a space-dash-time mind,
Or the unfathomably ineffable awareness of the eternal moment?
Meditate on it, and the answer will make itself apparent.
Discerning Eternity
… observe everything …
… observe the sentience …
… observe the awareness ...
… observe the existence …
… observe breathing in ...
… observe breathing out …
… observe the here …
… observe the now …
… observe the world …
… observe the universe …
… observe the sights …
… observe the sounds …
… observe the smells …
… observe the tastes …
… observe the textures …
… observe the thoughts …
… observe the theater …
… observe the timeless …
… observe the spaceless …
… observe the nonduality …
… observe the infinite …
… observe the infinitesimal …
… observe the intangible …
… observe the mystery …
… observe the impenetrable …
… observe the unconditional …
… observe the indefinable …
… observe the undeniable …
… observe the unborn …
… observe the undying …
… observe the stillness …
… observe the silence ...
… observe the emptiness …
… observe the aloneness …
… observe the indelible …
… observe the immeasurable …
… observe the ineffable …
... observe the entirety …
… observe the singularity …
… observe the moment …
… observe eternity …
… observe You …
The Sanctity of the Eternal Moment
What need for religion?
What need for faith?
What need for belief?
What need for priests?
What need for dogma?
What need for visions?
What need for edifices?
What need for miracles?
What need for devotion?
What need for salvation?
What need for blessings?
What need for scriptures?
What need for forgiveness?
What need for anything imaginary,
When You have the eternal moment in mind.
Playground or Prison?
The given mind, the given dream, the given illusion.
Sometimes a playground, sometimes a prison.
Sometimes ecstasy, sometimes agony.
Every cosmos, a reckoning of its own accord.
Respect Earns Respect (Maybe)
You earn the same respect You give, maybe.
The Eternal Being You Are
Just because You appear infinitesimal in this massive illusion, does not mean You are not all of it.
Disregard the sensory theater, still the mind, become the awareness, become the moment.
And where do You begin, where do You end, but as lone witness to all eternity.
The Identity Crisis
What is this deep-seated need,
To identify ourselves as this or that?
As this or that nationality.
As this or that gender.
As this or that color.
As this or that ethnicity.
As this or that race.
As this or that family.
As this or that intelligence.
As this or that religion.
As this or that faction.
As this or that group.
As this or that geography.
As this or that work.
As this or that philosophy.
As this or that culture.
As this or that team.
As this or that party.
As this or that policy.
As this or that theory.
As this or that clique.
As this or that band.
As this or that crowd.
As this or that device.
As this or that corporation.
As this or that genus.
As this or that variety.
As this or that school.
As this or that village.
As this or that church.
As this or that region.
As this or that opinion.
As this or that doctrine.
As this or that ethic.
As this or that genre.
As this or that principle.
As this or that opinion.
As this or that mindset.
As this or that meaning.
As this or that purpose.
As this or that anything.
Truth: The One and Only
Truth is not a word.
Truth is not a story.
Truth is the moment.
Truth is unborn-undying.
Truth is awareness.
Truth is timeless.
Truth is spaceless.
Truth is indelible.
Truth is impenetrable.
Truth is unconditional.
Truth is totality.
Truth is inexplicable.
Truth is imperceptible.
Truth is nondual.
Truth is unspeakable.
Truth is inconceivable.
Truth is unknowable.
Truth is indivisible.
Truth is impartial.
Truth is unequivocal.
Truth is immaculate.
Truth is imperceptible.
Truth is unfathomable.
Truth is inclusive.
Truth is indefinable.
Truth is singular.
Truth is undeniable.
Truth is intangible.
Truth is everlasting.
Truth is mystery.
Truth is everything.
Truth is ineffable.
Truth is eternity.
Truth is You.
One Moment to Rule Them All
You are the same moment, You have always been.
The Truth of Awareness
In awareness, there is no space.
In awareness, there is no time.
In awareness, there is no light.
In awareness, there is no dark.
In awareness, there is no vision.
In awareness, there is no taste.
In awareness, there is no smell.
In awareness, there is no sound.
In awareness, there is no touch.
In awareness, there is no word.
In awareness, there is no story.
In awareness, there is no here.
In awareness, there is no yes.
In awareness, there is no no.
In awareness, there is no there.
In awareness, there is no acute.
In awareness, there is no obtuse.
In awareness, there is no black.
In awareness, there is no white.
In awareness, there is no gray.
In awareness, there is no range.
In awareness, there is no me.
In awareness, there is no mine.
In awareness, there is no other.
In awareness, there is no good.
In awareness, there is no bad.
In awareness, there is no left.
In awareness, there is no right.
In awareness, there is no whatever.
In awareness, there is only You.
The Easy Way
Far easier to adopt a few words,
Far simpler to regurgitate a few stories,
Than it is to question anything and everything.
Than it is, to inquire into the mystery,
Into the truth, for your Self.
The Dubious Lingua Franca
If there is to be a lingua franca for whatever time remains,
English, because of its colonial dominance, seems the most likely candidate.
But which version, which dialect, which vernacular, which pidgin, which creole, which lingo?
And in the ever-changing linguistic dynamic of our kind, is that even possible?
The Great Fall will make for a much larger, more distant world,
And language will evolve on and on and on,
Forever willy-nilly.
Great Apes & Geeks
The great apes and geeks have taken the human paradigm,
Have taken this magical quantum garden,
Down a dead-end road.
My Little Gormenghast
So many ditties that need editing,
And that editing shared with all the other creations.
All the derivative titles, and all their ‘under construction’ segments.
So many things to tie together, into an agreeable, concise, elegant, philosophical opus.
Which so relatively few will ever know of, much less bother to peruse.
So much to do, and so little time remaining to do it.
Such is likely the fate of all creators.
The Stories! The Stories!
The entire human paradigm – the histories, the religions, the sciences,
The mathematics, the music, the arts, the architecture, the sports, the humanities,
The business, the agriculture, the vocations, the technologies, the industries … everything! –
Is nothing more than a perpetual parade of stories, given stage by the usurper of sentience, imagination.
All trapsing in the web of mind's space and time; kaleidoscoping through the ether of eternity.
Always a Moment Too Late
By the time You identify anything,
It is already as imaginary, as once-upon-a-moment,
As any narrative – modern to ancient – through which your mind wanders.
The haphazardly, arbitrarily, randomly, chaotically, anarchically, in the willy-nilly-all-over-the-place,
To which most, if not all minds, are incessantly, indelibly prone.
That Which Discerns God
No matter how extraordinary the imagination, no matter the medium
– Words, numbers, musical notes, or any other symbolic form –
It can never fathom the totality of That which is God.
Only the most austere sentience of awareness,
The tabula rasa within all small to great,
Is required for that eternal vision.
Illusion All the While
Every contrivance, every technology, everything ever conceived,
Has taken the human mind, has taken the human paradigm,
Around new bends, down new forks, along new roads.
Alas that so many have spiraled and contorted,
Into wallowing nadirs of darkness and mayhem.
The ecstasies and agonies of existence are relentless.
And space and time, such as they are, illusion all the while.
The Seeds of Doubt
What Ivory Tower can impart critical thinking,
To any embryonic student who does not harbor the seeds of doubt?
What education, what training, what degree, what piece of paper, means anything, without it?
To any destined to wander, to explore, to walkabout, this dreamtime,
Doubt, skepticism, cynicism, is paramount.
The Mask in the Mirror
How likely is it there ever come an ephemeral moment,
When You do not recognize, do not distinguish, the mask in the mirror?
When You do not distinguish the reflection, your mind has, in space and time, fashioned.
The mirror born of imagination; the mirror born of a state of perception.
… Tick … Tick … Tick …
… tick … tick … tick … tick … tick … tick … tick … tick …
… Another moment closer to everything the future has in store …
… tick … tick … tick … tick … tick … tick … tick … tick … tick …
… Another moment closer to whatever imagination has in store …
… tick … tick … tick … tick … tick … tick … tick … tick …
The Last Thing
What will be the last thing I ever write? Or say? Or do?
Well, obviously not this.
The Linguistic Moment
All languages harbor the capacities and limitations of their cultures of origin.
In one sense they are all ultimately equal in their linguistic natures,
Yet all are more proficient for purposes of expression,
In the spaces and times that have cultivated in their evolution.
A One-Time Dog and Pony Show
How absurd to believe your self-absorbed, imaginary mind-body character, is even one iota immortal.
The Algorithm Alchemy
What is memory, what is recollection, but nebulous perceptions strung along the mind’s neural pathways.
Accessed by imagination – set to a spectrum, a continuum – ranging from irrational to rational.
Based on the genetic lottery, and the conditioning that has shaped the given mind.
Based on all the desires, all the fears, all the dreads, all the passions.
Based on character, gender, age, education, predispositions.
Based on culture, language, technologies, skillsets, capacities, limitations.
Based on every possible alchemy, in the algorithm, You imagine playing out real and true.
An Easy-Peasy Blend
Easy-peasy to make up whatever deities your imaginary blend of desire and fear require.
The Truth of Nonduality
How has the absurdity of dualistic notion,
Retained any credibility, any authority, any weight, any belief, any confidence,
Any acceptance, any credence at all, in the human mind?
Embracing Eternity
How can anything but a quiet, still, serene mind, truly embrace the eternal moment?
The Eyes of Age
When You look at any older person, male or female, or whatever gender mindset they endure,
Ponder all it has taken for them to be twenty, thirty, forty, fifty years, down the road You are wandering.
And what will it take for You to reach that point, should You manage to survive your misadventure.
Cultures that have traditions encouraging the respect of their elders, do so for good reason.
The Man Who Suffers
The man who suffers, suffers because he dips his toe in and out of the pool of awareness.
What a challenge to harbor in the quietude of totality’s moment,
When the world calls again and again.
With every temptation imagination has to offer.
Every Moment
Everything, sentient or not, is part of the dreamtime continuum.
Every moment is an opportunity to bear witness to the dreamtime continuum.
Every moment is an opportunity to witness the mystery of eternity.
Every moment is an opportunity to practice indifference.
Every moment is an opportunity for stoic resolve.
Discern Thy Self
You are the indelible mystery.
Discern your own mind; discern your own voice.
There is no way to follow any other; there is no way to teach any other.
Risky Business
Believing your own press,
Your own version, your own vanity, your own malarky, your own bullshit,
Can be risky business.
A Horror-Filled Ponder
What will all the progeny go through, for the rest of human history, is a horror-filled ponder.
A Dark and Dismal Dead-End Road
Just a collection of friggin' monkeys, whose evolution in the jungles and savannahs of old,
Whose naturally-selected, choiceless choices, have carelessly taken themselves,
Have taken this garden world, and all its creatures, small to great,
Down a dark, harrowing, agonizing, dead-end road.
The Art of Flexibility
In any field of battle, every strategy, every tactic,
Should remain flexible to instantaneous modification.
For the want of a tiny nail, many a war has likely been lost.
Always pay attention, and always keep a pail of nails at the ready.
Men Plan, God Laughs
You might well have a plan.
But who knows what will really happen?
God is laughing.
Finding Solace in the Mundanity
These ditties offer a reprieve, a solace, from the mundane world,
In which I have been forced to abide by the happenstance of birth.
The Delusion of Identity
The root of all identity crisis is truly believing You are one.
‘Pretending’ You are a personality in the daily wander, is all any One need do.
To believe, or not to believe; to play along, or not play along; is ever but momentary delusion.
The Consequences of Narcissistic Hedonism
All are complicit in allowing the food industry to sabotage the future.
There are always many things anyone coulda-woulda-shoulda chosen differently,
Alas that our narcissistic hedonism has funneled a significant number down a dead-end road.
What a Tale I Could Tell
Somehow, I have been allowed by the Fates to be a seer, a mystic, a sage.
What tales I could tell, how it all came to be, were anyone all that interested.
So Many, So Many
So many lifetimes ago,
So many universes ago,
So many dreamtimes ago,
So many perceptions ago,
All in just one lifetime.
A Future Never to Be Seen
These many thoughts are the seeds of a banyan tree.
In who's shade I will only sit through other eyes.
Assuming, of course, it finds its intended audience.
Assuming, of course, it is not cut down, and forever lost.
The Percolation of Wisdom
Sometimes it seems to take years to fully realize the profundity of some of these many ditties,
That digitalized helter-skelter via one keyboard or another, in one way back when or another.
Zones of Intelligence
How intelligent should You be, could You be, would You be, if You were born into a cockroach's world?
Or a wolf’s world? Or an alligator’s world? Or a minnow’s world? Or a sparrow’s world?
All creatures small to great have a niche, a comfort zone, an intelligence zone.
And from the ultimate view, none more special than any other.
A Wayward Journey
If we crunchy-chewy-gooey human beings were truly the greatest, highest grubs ever,
Would we have decimated this extraordinary garden world the way we have?
How is it we lost all sense of guardianship in our wayward journey?
The First and Last Dubious Assertion
René Descartes:
I think, therefore I am.
Yaj Ekim's Corollary:
To even declare 'I Am' is a dubious assertion.
The Superhero Conundrum
How many times do superheroes have to save the world,
Before they finally realize it cannot be saved,
Dreamtime mirage, that it is.
Setting Aside the Attachment
To ignore the ever-churning mind, is an every-moment challenge.
The attachment to this whirling pale blue dot is not easy to set aside.
Chasing Technology
Would that You could program your mind the same way You would a computer.
It might well make the day-to-day much less bothersome were You a machine.
The Crosses We Bear
We all have different crosses to bear,
In whatever wanderfest the Fates have prescribed.
No need to try to replicate any others.
You are all alone.
Helming the Ship
You will follow,
Until You find courage enough,
To take the wheel, to hold the reins, to fly solo.
Maybe, Just Maybe
Maybe, just maybe, on your deathbed,
You will finally realize how equal to everything,
You are, have ever been, and will ever be.
And, either way, it does not matter.
The Unbearable Lightness of Being
All minds abide in the contortion of their nature-nurture.
There is no freedom but through total surrender to the absolute.
And that, only for as long as one can endure the utter serenity of eternity.
The Resolute Indifference of Imagination
The imaginary urges of desire and fear, of manifest consciousness, in all its self-absorption,
Are only too willing and able, to entirely ignore the ethereal nature of eternity,
Through which they blindly trespass with resolute indifference.
The Inherent Perfection
You are already perfection.
No need to attempt some imaginary version,
That can never-never-ever be.
Being the Moment
The moment is detached.
The moment is the detachment.
You are the detachment.
You are the moment.
The Art of Detachment
The art of letting go, of being detached,
Like all arts, is easier for some than others.
And even the masters have their off days.
The Sisyphean Challenge
To wander the day-to-day,
As the whole, as the totality, as the entirety – not the part,
Is the Sisyphean challenge.
Shrug, Atlas, Shrug
All your memories, all your knowledge, all your opinions, all your desires, all your fears,
All the ceaseless thoughts streaming through your momentary grind,
Ignore them, as often as the moment allows.
You need not always carry the world You imagine so real.
Different Dream, Same Mystery
Even a blubbering village idiot,
Is a portion of the same and very equal mystery,
You are, have ever been, will ever be.
Try to get over yourself.
The Inexplicability of All
We wander about, interacting with so many others,
And all of us, so often so inexplicable in each other’s eyes.
Not as Special as We Believe
The challenge is to realize just how whacked out so many are.
We are not near as special, as we wax-lyrical ourselves to be.
Another Way to Look At It
“One of these squirmy little seeds could be our child,”
I mighta-coulda-shoulda-woulda said, as a gooey collection of mine,
Erupted with infectious joy and inordinate gratitude, into her orifice-with-a-tongue.
“Which makes You a cannibal of the infanticidal sort.”
Grubs With Attitude
Are we two-leggeds, really anything more than grubs, chock-full of imaginary whimsy?
What are the attributes that distinguish human beings from other creatures?
Large brain size
Reduced body hair
Lungs and sweat glands
Opposable thumbs
Facial structure
Language
Abstract reasoning
Problem-solving skills
Theory of mind
Self-awareness
Moral reasoning
Complex social structures
Tool making and usage
Bipedalism
Will we ever manage to get over ourselves?
Will we ever fully realize we are merely evolutionary outcomes?
And whenever it happens, will we depart the stage with nobility and humility and integrity and discipline,
As fully-evolved human beings, harmoniously realigned with the mysterious source of our origin,
Guardians of whatever carcass is left of the quantum dust-ball garden that birthed us all?
Or will we exit like fruit flies, churning feverishly for the last dollop of honey in the bell jar?
Like rats, vying savagely for the last crumbs at the bottom of the cage?
At this writing, the answer is more than a little evident.
The Idolatry! The Idolatry!
Religions (a.k.a., cults) are about contriving a God, an imaginary false idol,
As small, as vain, as irrelevant, as they and their participants are, and will ever be.
The human mind is corrupted by the irrational superstitions born in the jungles of origin.
Science has made every attempt to raise the bar, but ignorance manages to resist in every way.
No matter how fast light travels, it finds the darkness has always got there first, and is waiting for it.
Waylaying the Curiosity
The cosmos You perceive, the cosmos through which You wander, the cosmos You believe You know,
Is stimulated by the insatiable inquisitiveness to which our kind is genetically inclined.
To be truly immeasurable, to be the absolute awareness of eternity,
To be unconditionally present in the given moment,
One must set aside all curiosity, all interest.
One must disengage from the sensory dream.
One must extinguish all notion of self, to be Self.
One must capitulate to the mystery, to be the mystery.
No Binds, No Boundaries
Many writings, many experiences, many adventures, have been influential,
But none have ever bound me, when it has been time push on to new intrigues.
Just You, All Alone
No one to follow.
No one to lead.
Just You, all alone.
Just You, spaceless, timeless.
Just You, eternally one, eternally free.
Just You, playing out an inwardly anonymous fate.
Unburdened by any yearning for the futility of an imaginary destiny.
Steadfast, stoic, ascetic, wandering, one breath at a time.
Ever-kaleidoscoping in the right here, right now.
This unborn-undying eternal moment.
The Creators of Universes
The tongue, the nose, and all the sensations flesh offers, achieve great heights,
But eyes and ears, are the two most important players in our five-sensory universes.
Without them, there would be no mountains, no stars, nor waves crashing upon the rocks.
Avoiding a Corrupted Existence
A modest, frugal, austere, moderate existence is far more expedient, far more leisurely,
Than having a mountain of gold that has to be reckoned and protected every day of one’s life.
Do not allow power and fame and fortune to corrupt, to distract, the quality of your fleeting moment.
Nothing to Be Saved
Seriously, who can be saved, when everything is very much nothing?
Peer into any atom and try to find the proof that You exist,
As anything more than a figment of imagination.
A filament of quantum energy, at best.
You are but the moment dreaming its Self real.
A Moment Within the Moment
Right here, right now, is the moment within the moment.
Regarding Eternity, You can never stop what never started.
Whimsical Grubs
All we two-leggeds are, is grubs, chock-full of imaginary whimsy.
You, Witness
This spinning pale blue dust ball, this immeasurable cosmic mystery, would not be,
Were You not – right here, right now, this very moment – present to witness it.
And every sentient creature, small to great, its own rendering of the indescribable.
None truly more or less important, more or less sentient, in the grand ineffability of it.
Dub it whatever You will, argue over it in every way imaginable, You are it, and it is You.
The Limits of Perception
Everything You – perceived, thought, believed, hoped, dreamed – happened, in any given moment,
Is entirely constructed by your lifetime’s accumulated nature-nurture frame-of-reference.
All the incalculable perceptions that your mind-body has wandered and retained.
And the reality is, that it can all, never be more, than a vague and ever-changing perception.
Truth Seeker? Or Lie Keeper?
Easy-peasy to make up, to devise, whatever deities,
Your imaginary blend of desire and fear and dread require.
Really, the only question is, are You a truth seeker, or a lie keeper?
The Absurdity of Duality
Given the attentive nature of meditation and contemplation,
Given the inexorable exactness of scientific method,
How has the absurdity of dualistic notion,
How has a most obvious contortion,
Retained any credibility at all,
In the human paradigm,
In which we are all alone, together.
... inhale nothing ... exhale nothing ...
... inhale nothing ...
… exhale nothing ... inhale nothing ...
... exhale nothing ... inhale nothing ... exhale nothing ...
... inhale nothing ... exhale nothing ... inhale nothing ... exhale nothing ...
... inhale nothing ... exhale nothing ... inhale nothing ... exhale nothing ... inhale nothing ...
... exhale nothing ... inhale nothing ... exhale nothing ... inhale nothing ...
... exhale nothing ... inhale nothing ... exhale nothing ...
... inhale nothing ... exhale nothing ...
... inhale nothing ...
The Myth of Unconditional Love
That which is called love, is not without many well-camouflaged boundaries of the rocky sort.
And unconditional love is a windswept myth, aided and abetted by romantics and storytellers.
Naught but endorphin chemistry, that will likely run into one reef or another, sooner or later.
Neither Here Nor There
No point holding on to what was neither here nor there in the first place.
Doubt It All
Doubt all meaning and purpose,
Until the futility of meaning and purpose,
Becomes absolutely, irrevocably, beyond-all-belief clear.
A Very Windy Day
You might be able to hold on to the quantum illusion in all its forms.
Or at least make-believe-pretend You do.
But Eternity?
That is always very fine dry sand, in loose fingers, on a very windy day.
Speculating the Final Exit
Unless something really goes down in some very sudden, cataclysmic manner,
None now breathing will be witness to the closing chapter of the human paradigm.
That will be a long process, with every geography playing out its own unique endgame.
Some might manage to hang on in diminished capacity, for perhaps even thousands of years.
All those now enduring get to do, is imagine, is speculate, all the horrors the progeny will endure.
The Intelligence of Eternity
The awareness, the intelligence, the acumen, of the totality of eternity, of that which some call God,
Has no memory, but through perceptions imbedded along the neuron trails of the given form.
And they, only for as long as the sentient organism manages to survive its given niche.
It is but a fleeting dream for all forms, however their given moment plays out.
All based entirely on how their naturally-selected Darwinian narrative,
Has been etched by evolution in the given genomic sequencing,
Since life’s indivisible, indelible, ineffable beginning.
Truth is Not a Debate
Truth is not a debate; it is not rhetorical masturbation.
No Moments
The are no moments.
There is only this one moment.
It is not divisible; it cannot be pluralized.
A Tree Falls in a Forest …
Whether or not You or some other,
Witness a tree falling in the forest, is immaterial.
The tree was its own witness enough.
Who Are You? Who Are You Not?
Are You what You imagine in the daily willy-nilly ebb and flow?
Or the awareness that permeates the timeless, indivisible moment?
The Judgment Thing
It is the nature of our kind to judge – everyone and everything – all the time.
And then we imagine narcissistic deities, who will judge us worthy of heaven, or the fiery pits of hell.
And so, in all our fears and dreads, we pray to these imaginary deities for forgiveness,
For all the ghastly sins we could not help ourselves from committing.
In the shadows of irony and paradox, absurdity rules.
Who Is the Who, Who Judges?
All have done many ‘good’ things; all have done many ‘bad’ things.
All kaleidoscoping the very same eternal moment; ever free of any judgment.
The only ones judging behind those mortal eyes, are the witnesses believing it all real.
The Gordian Knot of Ethical Thinking
Ethics is a Gordian Knot,
Which only the sharpest sword of discernment,
Cuts loose its imaginary hold.
Any Other’s Mind
How many people really want to spend that much time in anyone else’s mind?
The Illusion of Existence
So many ways to fill this mystery theater continuum, if all You are doing is living.
All we two-leggeds are, is crunchy-chewy-gooey grubs, chock-full of imaginary whimsicality.
How can anything but a quiet, still, serene mind, truly embrace the eternal moment?
No point holding on to what was neither here nor there in the first place.
Panpsychism
panpsychism | panˈsīˌkizəm |
noun
the doctrine or belief that everything material, however small,
has an element of individual consciousness.
-----
Wikipedia: Panpsychism
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Panpsychism
In the philosophy of mind, panpsychism is the view that the mind or a mind-like aspect
is a fundamental and ubiquitous feature of reality.
It is also described as a theory that "the mind is a fundamental feature of the world
which exists throughout the universe".
It is one of the oldest philosophical theories,
and has been ascribed in some form to philosophers including Thales, Plato, Spinoza,
Leibniz, Schopenhauer, William James, Alfred North Whitehead, and Bertrand Russell.
In the 19th century, panpsychism was the default philosophy of mind in Western thought, but it saw a decline in the mid-20th century with the rise of logical positivism.
Recent interest in the hard problem of consciousness, and developments in the fields of neuroscience, psychology, and quantum mechanics have revived interest in panpsychism in the 21st century.
Anima Mundi
Wikipedia: Anima mundi
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Anima_mundi
The concept of the anima mundi, world soul, or soul of the world,
posits an intrinsic connection between all living beings,
suggesting that the world is animated by a soul much like the human body.
Rooted in ancient Greek and Roman philosophy,
the idea holds that the world soul infuses the cosmos with life and intelligence.
This notion has been influential across various systems of thought,
including Stoicism, Gnosticism, Neoplatonism, and Hermeticism,
shaping metaphysical and cosmological frameworks throughout history.
The Kaleidoscoping Continuum
The continuum is not space: the continuum is not time.
The continuum is a quantum matrix; it is stardust weaving in every way imaginable.
Ever kaleidoscoping in the motionlessness of the awareness You truly are.
And all of it, an illusion playing out, in every given mind-body.
We are all dreamers, playing impromptu Shakespeare.
We are all the mystery, dreaming its Self, real.
Have You Seen Your Self?
As long, as You truly believe; as long, as You truly maintain,
You are this crunchy-chewy-gooey grubby blob,
You have not seen what You truly are.
The Truth of the Matter
It is up to You to figure it out,
In whatever way You will, in whatever way You will not.
And does it really matter?
Only to You.
The Standard Ripostes
The standard ripostes have pretty much become:
You can take the monkey out of the jungle,
But You cannot take the jungle out of the monkey.
Human history does not repeat itself; the patterns do.
The Axis of Evil is nepotism and cronyism and favoritism.
And ...
The great apes, and their geeks, have taken us down a dead-end road.
You Are It … It Is You
You are the unborn-undying awareness.
You are the anonymous all-pervading.
You are the overwhelming unknown.
You are the ineffaceable That I Am.
You are the indecipherable enigma.
You are the incomprehensible now.
You are the indescribable mystery.
You are the inscrutable witness.
You are the boundless present.
You are the inexplicable eye.
You are the irradicable here.
You are the ineffable now.
You are the indelible You.
You are the glimmering.
You are the twinkling.
You are the moment.
You are the instant.
You are spaceless.
You are timeless.
You are infinity.
You are eternity.
Be anonymous.
Be boundless.
Be spaceless.
Be timeless.
Be present.
Be eternal.
Be totality.
Be infinite.
Be indelible.
Be ineffable.
Be nameless.
Be indivisible.
Be irradicable.
Be inscrutable.
Be inexplicable.
Be ineffaceable.
Be unfathomable.
Right here, right now.
Bam!
The Eternal One
You are the tabula rasa.
You are the moment.
You are the sentience.
You are the awareness.
You are the twinkling.
You are the instant.
You are the existence.
You are the consciousness.
You are the being.
You are the vigilance.
You are the chirpiness.
You are the occurrence.
You are the life.
You are the dynamism.
You are the vivaciousness.
You are the vigor.
You are the mindfulness.
You are the focus.
You are the animation.
You are the manifestation.
You are the energy.
You are the cognizance.
You are the reality.
You are the vibrancy.
You are the perception.
You are the presence.
You are the sparkle.
You are the liveliness.
You are the alertness.
You are the wakefulness.
You are the spirit.
You are the actuality.
You are the exuberance.
You are the attentiveness.
You are the alertness.
You are the verve.
You are the watchfulness.
You are the here-now.
You are the indivisible.
You are the all and none.
You are the witness.
You are the eternal one.
Sundry Mix ‘n Match
That Which Is God
Yet another attempt to communicate what the sound/word/concept ‘God’ herein means.
No, not some unshaven Saint Nick, leading an orchestration of harps in the cloudy on-high.
No, to every idol, every faith, every belief, every creed, every symbol, every charismatic leader.
Yes, to every quantum particle to the farthest reaches of the cosmos, and beyond, including, yes, You.
All that is seen, all that is unseen, is of the same indelible, indivisible, unfathomable mystery.
To envision it any less, is the same delusion repeated throughout the human paradigm.
And all that is required to perceive this non-dualistic truth, is an attentive mind.
A mind that has clearly realized, that eternity is this ever-present moment.
This timeless, unborn-undying, prior-to-consciousness awareness.
And no fiction born of imagination is required to access it.
The Blind Men and an Elephant
by John Godfrey Saxe
I.
It was six men of Indostan
To learning much inclined,
Who went to see the Elephant
(Though all of them were blind),
That each by observation
Might satisfy his mind.
II.
The First approached the Elephant,
And happening to fall
Against his broad and sturdy side,
At once began to bawl:
"God bless me! – but the Elephant
Is very like a wall!"
III.
The Second, feeling of the tusk,
Cried: "Ho! – what have we here
So very round and smooth and sharp?
To me 't is mighty clear
This wonder of an Elephant
Is very like a spear!"
IV.
The Third approached the animal,
And happening to take
The squirming trunk within his hands,
Thus boldly up and spake:
"I see," quoth he, "the Elephant
Is very like a snake!"
V.
The Fourth reached out his eager hand,
And felt about the knee.
"What most this wondrous beast is like
Is mighty plain," quoth he;
"'T is clear enough the Elephant
Is very like a tree!"
VI.
The Fifth, who chanced to touch the ear,
Said: "E'en the blindest man
Can tell what this resembles most;
Deny the fact who can,
This marvel of an Elephant
Is very like a fan!"
VII.
The Sixth no sooner had begun
About the beast to grope,
Than, seizing on the swinging tail
That fell within his scope,
"I see," quoth he, "the Elephant
Is very like a rope!"
VIII.
And so these men of Indostan
Disputed loud and long,
Each in his own opinion
Exceeding stiff and strong,
Though each was partly in the right,
And all were in the wrong!
Moral
So, oft in theologic wars
The disputants, I ween,
Rail on in utter ignorance
Of what each other mean,
And prate about an Elephant
Not one of them has seen!
This Is It
by Nathan Gill
This Is It. This is all there is – life appearing as an endless display of changing images, with no inherent purpose other than this appearance itself. There is simply life with no one living it.
For no reason at all life is at play with its own imagery, roving as attention, engaging in a mesmerizing game of hide and seek which arises as a sense of separation with an integral urge to wholeness. Life restlessly seeks, yearning for itself. The seeking is the restlessness. This play of worldly existence is imbued with life’s haunted longing for itself, seeking but never finding within the imagery in which it seeks. What is sought all along is this in which the seeking is playing out.
In life’s play as humanity, thought assumes an exaggerated importance as attention spins effortlessly into myriad longings and desires, epitomized by the idea of seeking fulfillment through enlightenment. Reading texts, asking questions, surfing the internet, going on retreat, gurus, teachers, non-teachers, practice, no practice – any or all of it is possible but none of it is necessary as in actuality nothing needs to be discovered, understood, let go of or transcended. Life already is, and recognition of itself in the form of enlightenment, liberation, nirvana, et cetera, is superfluous, merely another happening in the endless now of appearances in the play of life.
Nothing other than the configuration of life as it is now appearing is possible. All is happening exactly as it’s ‘meant’ to. If separation and seeking are the case, then this is it. If recognition and resting are the case, then this is it. Whatever is now – however ordinary or extraordinary – is it.
Seen in clarity, life appears as a great play. You – Consciousness – play all the roles and it is part of the play that You usually play the roles without knowing Your real identity. But sometimes, as part of the show, there is recognition of Your true nature. When there is involvement as a character in the play without recognition of Your true nature the role is taken seriously and all the dramas of life seemingly appear from this. If a role is played where there is recognition of Your true nature, the play is seen for what it is. When Your true nature becomes obvious, the character doesn’t disappear in a flash of light, nor put on ochre robes and have disciples, nor teach ‘spiritual’ truths – although any of these is possible, depending on the pattern of the character’s role in the play. The character will likely appear as he or she did before recognition. The character is likely to continue to lead what is an ordinary life in the play. It is not even necessary for the character to tell anyone or communicate what is now obvious. The whole play has no purpose or point beyond present appearance. It is Your cosmic entertainment. You are Your play. It has no existence separate from You.
The Fate of Authorship
The goal of any writer is to plant something in other minds that will not be easily forgotten.
Who knows how many works are in used book stores and landfills,
And internet websites and burn piles,
And ancient libraries long ago fallen into ruin,
That never or barely even got a chance to be remembered.
Breadcrumbs 2024 & Beyond
Solitary Witness
From birth to death, the unborn-undying awareness that I am,
Is solitary witness to an ever-kaleidoscoping, mystery-ridden dreamtime.
There is nothing I need do, nothing I can do, but whatever the given moment beckons,
From the patterning of the mind-body, in which I am cloaked,
Upon the stage, which I impromptu play.
Breadcrumbs 2024 & Beyond
The Anarchist
Am I not something of an anarchist, taking on consciousness, taking on imagination,
With aphorisms the weapon, with which the dreamtime has equipped me.
Taking aim at intellects scouted in any given daily walkabout.
A reasonable pastime, for which I am well-suited.
A Johnny Appleseed strategy at the helm.
Very grass-rooted, very under-the-radar.
What future awakening they might inspire, if any,
Is well beyond this narrative, and well beyond any concern.
It is but the vanity, for which I have been, through happenstance, fated.
A mind-body, programmed by the given nature-nurture, with a truth-seeking inclination.
Breadcrumbs 2024 & Beyond
Evolution of The Stillness Before Time
A timeline of phases in this little raison d'être project that began in 1989.
Ojai
Teaching at Oak Grove School in Ojai, California
Head and neck injury at Carpinteria State Beach on school fieldtrip
Psilocybin mushrooms & ecstasy
Nisargadatta’s “I Am That”
The first index cards, tossed after Lena’s comment
Chico
A box of spiral-bound notebooks
Access to a desktop computer at Chico Hedway
Dean Evans and two art shows
A book agent who had me put together The Stillness Before Time
Including: Of the Human Journey, Got God?, Ten Reflections, Books, Movies
Kinko’s and who knows how many spiral-bound copies out the back door
Arcata
More spiral-bound notebooks
CLAD certificate program at Humboldt State
First Apple PowerBook 5300 laptop
HTML programming class
Creation of The Stillness Before Time website
Turlock
Switch to index cards
Creative Alternatives and transfer of website
Five generations of Apple MacBook laptops through the years
Several attempts to publish, with support from Dawn Eden Fletcher and Ram Dass
The Return to Wonder
Matrix algorithm experiment
Google Blogger
Twitter/X
The Ponderings of Yaj Ekim
Breadcrumbs series
Lulu Press
Retirement from Creative Alternatives
Transfer of website to Network Solutions
Evolution of website
A variety of offshoot titles
Sivana East
Transfer of website to Skystra
Switch from index cards to smart phone texting
Editing of Stillness, Ponderings, Return to Wonder
The quest for a legacy caretaker
Breadcrumbs 2024 & Beyond
Just a Clarification
Just a clarification that some titles are original works, and some are selections from the originals.
Please note, dear reader, that nothing is complete, nothing is finished, until the last wheezing breath.
And that the most recent, most accurate edits, will be the PDF versions uploaded to the website.
The Original Works
The Stillness Before Time,
Reflections From a Fellow Sojourner
Including:
Of the Human Journey
Got God?
Ten Reflections
The Ponderings of Yaj Ekim
The Breadcrumbs Compendium
Bits and Pieces From a Dream of Time
Breadcrumbs 2015
Breadcrumbs 2018
Breadcrumbs 2019
Breadcrumbs 2020
Breadcrumbs 2021
Breadcrumbs 2022
Breadcrumbs 2023 & Beyond
The Return to Wonder
Field Notes from the Unknown
The Sidebar Collection
A Short List of Books for the Up and Coming
Some Written Works That May Help Get the Young Up to Speed
Conversations
A Variety of Letters, Emails, Texts, & Sundry Odds 'n Ends
Definitions
An Incomplete Selection of Contemplative Definitions
Ditties for the Bluegrass Fire
Even More
Titles, Titles & More Titles
Jester Amok
My (Not Quite) Haiku
Once Upon a Christmas
Possible Last Words & Epitaphs
Sketches of the Once Upon a Time
A Few Epiphanies and Other Hallmark Moments
Spam Responses (a.k.a., WTF Is This Shit!?)
The Corollaries of Yaj Ekim
The Standard Ripostes
The Scribe’s Go-to Responses to This and That in the Day-To-Day
Titles, Titles & More Titles
Uncle Sam Says
The titles below are selections drawn from the original works above, based on the premise of the title.
Several will very likely still be ‘under construction’ if the Reaper arrives ahead of sketch.
So … anyone who might be motivated, is welcome to fill in any-and-all gaps,
Being as mindful as possible, to hold fast to the given formatting.
There may or may not be someone to answer inquiries,
At the mjholshouser@gmail.com address.
The Derivative Collection
Aftershocks Autumn 2024
Frames of Reference
Peering Through the Windows of Perception
Imagination: The Great Usurper
Jesus on Prophets
What Any Seer Likely Faces Returning to the Cave of Origin
Lost in Translation
The Human Paradigm’s Linguistic Muddle
Michael’s Rabbit Hole
A Selection of Breadcrumbs & Other Aphorisms
Of Meaning and Purpose
Ponderings About the Futility of It All
Of Noise & Silence
Contemplations on the Vibrations of Consciousness
Standouts From the Return to Wonder Edit
Selections From the First Sixteen Chapters
The Call of the Eternal
A Conversation With My Self
The Gordian Knot of Ethical Thinking
The ‘And More’ Collection
Doubt, Doubt & More Doubt
History, History & More History
Imagination, Imagination & More Imagination
Mystery, Mystery & More Mystery
Patterns, Patterns & More Patterns
Reincarnation, Reincarnation & More Reincarnation
Science, Science & More Science
The Singles Collection
59 Moments to The Way It Is (And Is Not)
Of the Human Journey
Along with ‘Got God?’ and ‘Ten Reflections’
The Mystery of the Mystery
The Real is Discovering
To Be, or Not to Be
Who Was the First?
Another Way of Putting It
Almost everything written since 1989, probably in the neighborhood of five or six thousand pages at this writing, has been transcribed in MS Word format in the Times New Roman font, and is divided into ten main titles: The Stillness Before Time, The Ponderings of Yaj Ekim, The Return to Wonder, and Breadcrumbs 2015 through 2023. Other titles are sidebar original works or derivatives that came to the a-puttering mind in the hither-thither. There are many incomplete and need-editing works in the derivative list.
The Original Works
The Stillness Before Time,
Reflections From a Fellow Sojourner
Including:
Of the Human Journey
Got God?
Ten Reflections
The Ponderings of Yaj Ekim
The Breadcrumbs Compendium
Bits and Pieces From a Dream of Time
Breadcrumbs 2015
Breadcrumbs 2018
Breadcrumbs 2019
Breadcrumbs 2020
Breadcrumbs 2021
Breadcrumbs 2022
Breadcrumbs 2023 & Beyond
The Return to Wonder
The Sidebar Collection
A Short List of Books for the Up and Coming
Conversations
Definitions
Ditties for the Bluegrass Fire
Even More Titles, Titles & More Titles
Jester Amok
My (Not Quite) Haiku
Once Upon a Christmas
Possible Last Words & Epitaphs
Sketches of the Once Upon a Time
Spam Responses (a.k.a., WTF Is This Shit!?)
The Corollaries of Yaj Ekim
The Standard Ripostes
Titles, Titles & More Titles
Uncle Sam Says
The Derivative Collection
Aftershocks Autumn 2024
Frames of Reference
Imagination: The Great Usurper
Jesus on Prophets
Lost in Translation
Michael’s Rabbit Hole
Of Meaning and Purpose
Of Noise & Silence
Standouts From the Return to Wonder Edit
The Call of the Eternal
The Gordian Knot of Ethical Thinking
The ‘And More’ Collection
Doubt, Doubt & More Doubt
History, History & More History
Imagination, Imagination & More Imagination
Mystery, Mystery & More Mystery
Patterns, Patterns & More Patterns
Reincarnation, Reincarnation & More Reincarnation
Science, Science & More Science
The Singles Collection
59 Moments to The Way It Is (And Is Not)
Of the Human Journey
The Mystery of the Mystery
The Real is Discovering
To Be, or Not to Be
Who Was the First?
A Few Ditties on Process
Breadcrumbs 2023 & Beyond
No, this existence has not been all about talking and writing all this babble.
There were many mornings sipping bean at coffee shops, and nights curled up with popcorn and Netflix,
And wanders here and there, witnessing, exploring, participating, in oh-so-many ways.
Wisdom is far more than sitting on a zafu, staring at a blank wall,
Though that may well be a hearty slice of it,
And ultimately, all of it.
* * * *
No one is ever going to read all this yada yada babble besides me,
Few are ever going to really even begin to grasp, all that I have offered the world.
So, the question becomes, whether or not, it is a good idea for anyone to even dip more than a tippy-toe.
But, if there ever is enough interest for there to be group discussions on this body of work,
Be sure no one is in charge, as anything more than a mild facilitating role.
Circular seating, all at the same eye-level, is recommended.
No proselytization, no dogma, no bullshit.
Read it as clearly as possible.
Stay as clear as possible.
It is not about the scribe.
It is a discussion, not a sermon.
And do not hesitate just to sit in silence.
It is, after all is said and done, a solitary journey.
* * * *
All the copyrights to this collection of titles are a cultural formality,
Which need mean nothing to whatever the future of this scarred garden’s dreamtime has in store.
Do with these many ponderings, these many ramblings, whatever You will,
Or ignore them entirely, and likely be no less happy for it.
* * * *
I pipe dream this largely aphoristic body of work will someday be known,
And my name on some marquee, these thoughts the focus of symposiums across the world,
But let’s face it, folks, with all the babbleon that’s already out there,
That just ain’t ever never going to happen.
So it goes.
* * * *
Fortunately, power and fame and fortune have evaded me.
Vulnerability, anonymity, austerity, and the mindfulness they engender,
Are a great gift in this insane asylum, this théâtre de l’absurde.
* * * *
I do not need anything from You.
I offer You these insights free of all claims.
I do not hunger for your treasures, or your approval.
I do not aspire to ever meet You, or hear your imaginary story.
You are free to go your own way, find your own way,
And do with these thoughts, whatever You will.
* * * *
Has this lifetime of philosophizing, in any way,
Transformed the patterning of this temporal mind-body?
Not that I have, in any way, any shape, any form, ever once witnessed.
Destiny is destiny, fate is fate, fortune is fortune, upshot is upshot, kismet is kismet,
No matter how it is chiseled in stone in the sands of time.
* * * *
In creating this Sisyphean opus, mustered from a hard-earned frame of reference,
Every aphorism is given equal attention; each, gold-standard handcrafted,
To be read by somebody, someday, maybe, though probably not.
Don Quixote battling windmills is a fitting metaphor.
* * * *
If I was ever to start over – somehow be reborn, either male or female – I would just skip it all,
With the opposite sex, or my own, or whatever other genders might come into play.
Way too much bother, and adventures I need never experience again.
* * * *
No, I am not tossing out history.
I am simply pointing out that it is an imaginary invention,
To which we have tethered ourselves to such a fisted-hand-in-the-coconut degree,
That it is driving our kind, and a fair number of our fellow earthlings, and perhaps Gaia, towards oblivion,
Or certainly a far different garden than the one from which we spawned.
* * * *
What a remarkable thing it has been, to witness the rise and decline of this blip of a nation-state,
And likely to have traversed through the apex of what human civilization has had to offer, as well.
* * * *
The jury is still out, whether passing it around randomly for free, has been the best strategy.
* * * *
My faith is strong and sure and steadfast, for all times.
It is a faith that does not require the idolatry of form or thought.
It is a faith, so clear, that one must die to little self, to see it all, for what it is.
And from that faith, I leave You the distillation, of all this mind has ever thought and done.
Do with it what You will, or will not.
* * * *
How often what You are reading, is the morphed version of the original thought.
The original having been lost in the abyss of the churning mind,
In the time it took to reach for pen and paper,
Or as it was being scribbled.
Imagine this mind as one of those Magic Eight Balls;
Thoughts floating into view, floating out of view, sometimes retrievable, most often not.
* * * *
If these writings, these reflections, have merit, they will endure; if not, oh well in the so it goes.
It has been enough to observe whether the quantum théâtre de l’absurde of dreamtime,
Was as up to the mark set by all the self-promotion, by all the propaganda,
History has fed the masses as they chewed away on their mother.
My bet is that we will decline and fall, as all things ever do,
And all our creations, all our treasures, all our glories,
Will dissolve with the last whimper of imagination.
And the quantum abyss will not even shed a tear.
Nor I collect my winnings; for which I do despair
* * * *
Waking up to yet another dreamy day,
Trapped in a body racked with one bother or another,
The mind willy-nilly between agony and ecstasy, exasperation and rapture.
Curious how thought can play the gamut between amusing and tiring from one moment to the next.
What ceaselessly pointless vainglorious absurdity, this much ado about nothing.
The appeal of ever returning to this manifest dreamtime,
Has pretty much run its course.
* * * *
Although I have enjoyed so many things in this span of dreamtime,
All I ever really ‘wanted’ to do was be a forklift driver.
The spatial flowing of it, drew the farm boy.
On a forklift, in the field stations I in youth worked,
I was a fighter pilot, flying solo all about the asphalt jungles,
On which my iron horse and I, rallied about, putting order to daily chaos.
Such was my satisfaction, that I once even used vacation time at Creative Alternatives,
To work the peak of a walnut season at Ron Martella’s huller on Tully Road in hometown Hughson.
Ten-hour days in California Great Central Valley’s late summer often very warm weather.
Every moment absolutely, priceless, in the very-very right-here-right-now of it.
The hardest part was in those rare moments when it slowed down.
And even then, there was always something to do.
Breadcrumbs 2024 & Beyond
I am an outcome of the social-spiritual revolution of the 1960’s and 70’s.
A peasant’s eldest wandering the zenith of post-World War II United States of America,
Passing on thoughts, conclusions, opinions, judgments, about what I witnessed, and the parr I played.
That it has not developed its own legs, either proves I am wrong, or that the human species,
Is incapable of getting past its unfathomable arrogance or its insatiable avarice.
There is also great likelihood there is just too much to wade through,
Or that many just do not care to bother or care about it all.
Is there any doubt why I sit at the absurdist bar?
* * * *
All these years of scribbling have been both entertaining and wearisome,
In a sideways-topsy-turvy-inside-out-backwards sort of way.
Weave it all into some kind of enlightening story?
What, pray tell, would be the point?
It is done well enough for the rare few.
Think of all the videos I could have made.
Think of the following I might have cult-ivated.
I thank the gods for my insignificance, as should You.
I cannot imagine wanting or needing widespread approbation.
This garden orb does not require any more irrationality, any more absurdity.
You can thank or curse or ignore your Self, any time, any place.
You are, every moment, creator-preserver-destroyer.
You thank me when You discern your Self.
* * * *
My level of intrigue is far less, has always been far less, than many.
There is nothing I cannot walk away from if my whole world crashed and burned.
All I do is sit in coffee shops, write bullshit that very few people read, shop for supplies as needed,
See Mom and Sister once a week, and spend a couple hours most days in the club pool.
I am all but done with this cosmos, and this cosmos is all but done with me.
One of these days, I will be gone, and very few will even notice.
The universe has managed to ignore me while living;
It will even far less hard after I am gone.
* * * *
Have put this work out into the world in as many diverse channels as current technologies allow.
Nobody owns it, nobody controls it; everyone must discern the truth all on their own.
And all those who see, fairly quickly, without fanfare, know each other.
It is a very subtle, very quiet, very grass roots revolution.
No priesthood, no organization, no dogma.
Just a clear, rational view.
* * * *
What is a philosopher?
Cynic, skeptic, doubter, misanthropist, scoffer, doubter, pessimist,
Questioner, disparager, detractor, malcontent, loner, recluse, dilletante.
As pointless as pointless can be; the final chapter existence offers, to be sure.
* * * *
It was worth giving this body of work away no-charge.
Throwing it out there the willy-nilly way these digitalized times allowed.
No fame, no fortune, no control, no publishers, no followers, no travels, no speeches, no signings.
And only a modicum of vain notions with which to inwardly contend.
A strategy that saved all kinds of bother.
* * * *
Somebody had to scribe this, and it just sorta dumped itself into this lap.
If asked, would I do it again, I would say, with a shrug of these graying shoulders,
“What more could I possibly set down, without repeating myself more than I already have?”
This thought-filled theme park is for any and all, who discern within it, whatever they are looking for;
Whatever they might need, in the dystopian future that is so unescapably rushing at them.
* * * *
Why do I even bother scribbling all this?
I really do not much care for what the human paradigm has become,
Or the future to which it is inescapably, accelerating exponentially, every kaleidoscoping moment.
A vision so dark, so dismal, so painful, that the imminent extinction,
Cannot make its way hither soon enough.
* * * *
The post-WWII Boomer generation that I was born into, was set up by the idealistic winds of our youth,
To believe humankind could be, could do, something Darwin 101 assures us is impossible.
What I tell any who still harbor that delusional notion, any who still believe,
Us capable of overriding the natural selection that whittled us, for even a few minutes,
Is that You can take the monkey out of the jungle, but You cannot take the jungle out of the monkey.
* * * *
This guy would never lay any claim to being totally sane or rational or brilliant or anything perfect.
This mortal body, this mind, this imaginary moi, is as flawed and misguided and absurd,
And treacherous and hypocritical and irrational and judgmental and laughable,
And clumsy and frenetic and impulsive and irritable and divisive,
And narcissistic and hedonistic and greedy and vain,
And as inevitably mortal decline-and-fall as any other monkey-mind two-legged,
That has ever wandered every-which-way-to-and-fro across this dream-soaked dusty orb.
The perfection, all are, is not that which can be seen or heard or smelled or tasted or felt or thought.
* * * *
Things Which Mr. Just-in-Case Collects
Guns & Ammunition
Archery Equipment
Swords, Knives, Spears
Sundry Other Weapons
Martial Arts gear
Tools and Hardware
Chess & Other Strategy Games
Philosophy books
Military books
Weaponry books
History books
Political Science books
Science books
English language books
Spanish language books
Business books
Quote books
Gaming books
Health books
Cooking books
Exercise books
Resource books
Miscellaneous books
Exercise Gear
Kitchen paraphernalia
Coffee-making paraphernalia
The Great Courses DVD’s
Movie & Television DVD’s
Music CD’s
Camping gear
Office supplies
Hats
Dust collectors
Bags of every variety
Alcohol and Drugs
Informational websites
Blog posts
Facebook posts
Interesting article links
Non-followers
A material Peter Pan, to be sure.
* * * *
My gift to the dystopian future-slash-debacle, that I envision, with a shudder.
Do with it whatever You will; do with it whatever You can.
Sadly, better You than me, is all I gotta say.
Stay strong, rotsa ruck.
* * * *
When would I … Why should I … How could I …
Ever convince You, who-what-why-when-where-how, I am,
But through your own awakening to the eternal fact.
* * * *
Have always had a relativistic aptitude for relishing process.
For accepting things as they are, for accepting things as they come.
Perhaps because I was raised in a rural setting, in tune with nature’s fluidity.
Came from modest roots that never really expected or wanted that much out of life.
Tried to fan the fire in the belly as a business major out of college, but the spark never took.
The path of least resistance blew into my sail, and here I am, pondering the show.
Attentively writing down the so-many thoughts that bubble into mind.
* * * *
Some brand it, Brahman; some brand it, God.
Others, Buddha or Tao or Jehovah or Great Spirit or Whatever.
I call it the Mystery; the Mystery of the all in one, the Mystery of the one in all.
And no one need suffer any consequence, any punishment, any forfeit,
For granting it whatever name, or no-name, they are inclined.
No need for absurdity steeped in imaginary notion.
None can know how all this is happening.
Even the rumored supreme deity,
Witnesses in ignorance.
* * * *
René Descartes:
I think, therefore I am.
Yaj Ekim's Corollary:
I think, therefore I think I am.
I imagine, therefore I imagine I am.
You imagine, therefore You imagine You are.
And right-here-right-now, we all are, imagining we all, in space-time are.
An unborn-undying, unrehearsed, Shakespearian theater,
For as long as imagination draws breath.
* * * *
This is this lifetime’s contribution to the human paradigm.
Take it or leave it; please try not to hurt or kill anyone over it.
Please do not make it into some creed, it was never meant to be.
You can thank me, or scourge me, as befits the endgame’s narration
* * * *
All this philosophical chitchat, is not at all about yet another absurd, idolatrous belief system.
It is about the very real, very much in the moment, prior-to-consciousness awareness, You truly are.
There is nobody to follow, there is no confining dogmatic groupthink, there is no transaction fee.
All any need do, is pay attention to the given moment, as the mystery kaleidoscopes ever on.
It is very much a solitary mosey for those who have the wit and strength to stand alone.
It is very much an agnostic, existential stance, requiring no fallacious conclusions.
All one needs do, is be as free as the imaginary mind and mortal vessel allow.
* * * *
Me and all the other seers,
Churning out the same memorandum,
To the rare few fated with eyes to see, ears to hear.
* * * *
Got a good roll out of my little window of illusion.
And what happens after I am departed, after I am ashes and dust,
Is nothing I can do anything about, any more than I could while in the flesh.
* * * *
How it all seems to moi, is what these many thoughts, these many titles, are about.
Whether or not, they are anything the dreamtime’s future, will be in any way interested,
Is nothing this mind’s vanity, can more than pipe-smoking speculate, in its dystopian musings.
* * * *
Another day of rambling the quantum fever.
Bantering with your Self in whatever nooks and crannies are wandered.
Talking about, kicking around, hashing out, thrashing out, chewing over, every variety of this and that,
Learning and unlearning every rank of mind gorp, that death will someday wash away,
No matter how profound or clever, no matter how astute or shrewd.
* * * *
I have done my best with this work,
To leave something that is as great a vision,
As this mind-body and linguistic aptitude can muster.
As great a revelation as technology and times for a time allow.
Attempting in so many ways to fashion it nondualistically all-inclusive.
Something that will worm its way through the harsh age ahead,
Into a more rational, equitable, notion of humankind,
And its relationship with the natural world,
And the mystery that is source to all.
And to always try to remember,
That it is not at all about,
The little me who put it into play.
Rather, the big me, who is the You in all.
Best wishes, rotsa ruck, and apologies for the world we left You
* * * *
The very serendipitous – day-to-day of random folks – whose paths I crossed,
Were casually given business cards, with website name and address.
And before that, who knows how many pilfered copies,
Through the side door at the Kinko’s in Chico.
There is no knowing how far, how wide, or for what duration,
Future imagination-driven times, will choose to allow, this freely-offered serum,
From a scribe who pretty much made it his last hobby, his last distraction, his last will and testament.
* * * *
Coulda-shoulda-woulda, have brought to a halt, to all this nonsense long ago.
So much absurdity, over an elephant that can never been seen.
Coulda-shoulda-woulda, sought out a little cave.
Kept to my Self, Kept my peace,
Lived existence, rationally, serenely.
Free from all the mundanity, all the temporality.
Wait, I have done that! Here I am, ensconced right here now.
In my zennish, collector-hoarder hollow: Studio 101, Lakeside Apartments,
Turlock, California 93382-1016, United States, Gaia, Milky Way, Universe … Mystery …
* * * *
The weariness I feel with my take on the human paradigm,
Is beyond measure, many times, in so many situations, in any given day.
How tempting to just pull the plug on everything, to discard all this esoteric commentary,
Back into the oblivion, into the abyss, into the void, from whence it came,
And spend whatever remains of this dreamtime existence,
As quietly, as anonymously, as possible.
But no, I drudge on, as another ditty Magic-8-Ball’s into mind.
* * * *
All these notions are straight-up how I see it.
No regurgitations, no mimicking, no mendacities, no fanatisms.
Just the matter-of-fact, straight-thinking, no-nonsense, down-to-earth, the-way-it-is,
As seen through these older-than-the-stars-younger-than-the-moment eyes.
* * * *
If it is fated for these way-too-many thoughts to be discovered, I would prefer it be after I am rootbound.
Have never sought the weight of power, the rattle of gold, or the bother of groupthink.
Scribing all this has peaceably filled a great deal of this existence.
A pleasant pastime, to be channel for this mystery.
Being rewarded for such a gift, is given its due, with a nod of a head.
* * * *
A Self-imposed assignment; one in which I do not write what was done today, but what was thought.
An aphoristic journal-chronical-diary-memoir-bulletin-log-dossier-scrapbook-commentary-thesis-hobby.
As Thucydides Athenian historian and general (c. 460 – c. 400 BC) wrote:
My work is not a piece of writing designed to meet the needs of an immediate public,
but was done to last forever.
Yaj Ekim: Define forever.
* * * *
A Text to Bruce
America invited the world's masses, and they have arrived.
That is rough on the losers, rough on the haters, and Trump became their führer.
My prevailing who-gives-a-fuck-where's-the-popcorn line: So it goes, deal with it, get over it, move on.
It is all ultimately just another epoch in history's the-horror-the-horror-planet-of-the-apes stagecraft.
You and I have lived in the most incredible window of history this world has ever experienced.
Tough for all the kids in the day care centers and playgrounds who are going to pay for it.
Seven billion people and a changing climate in a little over 200 years – Hope is dead.
(Bruce: This started out as one of our many back-and-forth texts, and worked itself into an aphorism.
Some guy named Bruce will be lionized in Breadcrumbs 2023 & Beyond and Michael's Rabbit Hole)
The children's book by Shel Silverstein – The Giving Tree – says it all about the human paradigm.
The Giving Tree
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Giving_Tree
(P.S. Hey, just occurred to me to say – while we are still here – that I have always enjoyed our practically lifetime friendship. Forklifting at Joan of Arc was one of my all-time favorite jobs. Sorry about the toe. That moment, the calmness with which You told me the forklift was on your foot, still rings clear in this otherwise vague, aged memory. Never realized what You had endured until You told me years later.)
* * * *
And just to be steadfastly, beyond-all-doubts transparent – I do not much care for the word, prophet.
A little too loaded with historical undertones, to which I do not readily extend my Self.
Seer, mystic, sage, guru, maybe even augur or oracle, are tolerable fits.
If there must be any sound-concept ascribed to it, that is.
Deep, resonate Om-ing might be acceptable.
But try to put a crimp on any and all idolatries.
Ixnay on worshipping garden statues and crucifixes.
* * * *
The Anthropocene and a changing climate – a pitiless dragon – unfolding its wings upon all earthlings.
And alas for we post-war boomers, we elders, who bask in our unenviable senior moment,
Hoping to somehow evade the consequences of all our narcissistic hedonism,
Our little window of time, and all the consumption it allowed.
We are in for a taste, a whiff, of the future past.
* * * *
In this work, is written whatever comes to mind.
Audience or no, agreement or no, approval or no, applause or no.
For naught matters to the great emptiness, the great abyss, the great nothingness,
From whence all appearances, all illusions, kaleidoscope however they will.
How unlikely, that more than a relative few, will ever even hear of it,
Much less imbibe more than a few lines here and there, at best.
For anyone to peruse it all, would be an improbable feat.
One which would be, but another mirage of mind.
* * * *
This aphoristic opus was the last narcissistic-hedonistic vanity, that I could be enticed to orchestrate.
These writings, all extemporaneous, seem intent on stirring the potential of consciousness, of imagination,
To another echelon of intrigue in its Darwinian progression, if such a thing is even tenuously possible.
* * * *
The most candid, most sincere, most authentic answer, as to why have I bothered to scribe this opus,
Is the lucidity, the detachment, the hubris, the absurdity, of this nature-nurtured mind’s quixotic meander.
It is the reckoning, the revelation, of a happenstance-happenchance-contemplative-meditative amble.
It is the nothing-more-nothing-less, of this mind’s imaginary perception of an ineffable mystery.
* * * *
The human paradigm has long since become a friggin' insane-beyond-all-insanes asylum.
The engineers and all their minions have enticed us down a dead-end road.
How happy, how content I am, to be almost done with it.
* * * *
Regarding titles in this opus,
There is the ‘me’ voice, and there is the ‘Me’ voice.
Leftovers and Soundbites are the ‘Me’ and ‘My Self’ and ‘I’ rabbit dens.
Breadcrumbs lurk in the imaginary, more-likely-illusionary ‘me-and-myself-and-I’ wormhole.
It is a most challenging thing to walkabout this mortal quantum dreamtime,
And not be drawn willy-nilly into its distracting nature,
Same as all the other dreamers.
* * * *
There is likely something somewhere herein, for just about everyone.
This mystic wandering opus is not bound by the boundlessness of Eternity.
This mind’s penchant for living and dying, wanders easily afield in every manner.
“The dark side ain’t dark to me,” is a first and foremost go-to meme for this waggish mind.
* * * *
So many ditties that need editing,
And that editing shared with all the other creations.
All the derivative titles, and all their ‘under construction’ segments.
So many things to tie together, into an agreeable, concise, elegant, philosophical opus.
Which so relatively few will ever know of, much less bother to peruse.
So much to do, and so little time remaining to do it.
Such is likely the fate of all creators.
To Whom It May Concern
It is certainly a curious thing to have gone this mystical direction in life. Most definitely a road less traveled. As far as discussing it with others goes, I think, as with any specialty, any sphere – science, mathematics, music, sports, business, politics, et cetera ad infinitum – that we all tend to search out like minds to focus on our interests and passions. Scientists with scientists, mathematicians with mathematicians, musicians with musicians, athletes with athletes, businessmen with businessmen, politicians with politicians, et cetera ad infinitum. Our little “lost” tribe of seers, being somewhat scattered about the globe, are not always easy to run across. You just never know who will be sitting next to You in some coffee shop, bar, or park bench.
Personally, I have always been generalist and chameleon enough to enjoy chatting with whoever about whatever comes up. There is great freedom in anonymity. Many people I know quite well have very little if any clue about what I have done or what I have written. It has just never come up. I may probe and plant seeds, but do not worry whether or not they take root. Some minds are fertile; some are barren. It is just the way it is.
As far as staying connected with family, friends, and acquaintances goes, we each have to decide what is important to us, and it may be for some that burning bridges and moving on alone is only option they allow themselves. The high school class of my small rural town origin celebrated our 40th reunion a few years back, and those who came had a great time reconnecting and sharing their life journeys. Very few of them would ever be at all interested in my thoughts on things – many of them are true believers in one dogma or another – and I am okay with that. No point beating yourself over the head over things You cannot change.
The big view of it is that I am one of who knows how many awakened eyes in this magical mystery tour, as likely are You if You are reading this. Whether anyone else hears the call is something over which none of us has any say. Nor does it really matter. We may point the way to a larger vision, but it is each, abiding in their own set of capacities and limitations, who must, to whatever degree, wander the pathless land very much alone. We are but ephemeral seed crystals, of our own devices, for consciousness to do with what it will.
Everything I have written since 1989, except for a couple notebooks that were lost, along with a few other oopsie moments on the computer, is my gift to the future, such as it is. It is up to You and others I have befriended through the years to pass it on if You deem it to have merit. It has been an interesting pastime to give so much of my time over to it: to think it, to scribble it, to transcribe and edit it, to throw it about like Johnny did apple seeds. There may be in the neighborhood of five thousand pages worth by the time I exit this center stage. And what happens to it is for time to tell. I leave it to You to decide.
So it goes, either way. I played my part, I said my piece, I had my fun.
M
P.S. For best viewing online, using the largest screen You have available to explore my little theme park, is suggested. Scrolling down and down on a phone screen is just not going to give You the same entrée.
P.P.S. Regarding the name Yaj Ekim ... It is just a reverse spelling of the first and middle names ... Michael Jay Holshouser ... Mike Jay ... Yaj Ekim.
P.P.P.S. Coincidently, make of it whatever You will, or will not, Yaj is an Indian boy’s name meaning worshipper, sacrifice, another name for Shiva, a sage. And Ekim is a Turkish name for October meaning “sowing” (of seeds). All kinds of absurdity can be read into that by the many so-inclined – none of which was in mind when I came up with the idea to reverse the letters to my name. See P.P.S. for details.
P.P.P.P.S. Yes, I am Shiva. And so are You. No, I am not Shiva. And neither are You. Irony and paradox rule.
Th-Th-Th-That's All Folks!
Pointing to the whole elephant, as entertaining as it has been, has been an interesting lesson in futility.
Time to close down the show, and move on to an observation of silence mode.
Fare thee well, adieu, adios, auf wiedersehen, sayonara.
Regards and best wishes to all.
That said …
Stay Tuned
Given how this mind works, likely a few more ditties in the here and there,
For as long as these temporal lungs are still drawing air,
So stay tuned, You Wascally Wabbit.
Thucydides
My work is not a piece of writing designed to meet the needs of an immediate public,
but was done to last forever.
Athenian historian and general (c. 460 – c. 400 BC)
History of the Peloponnesian War
Yaj Ekim
Define forever.