Between awareness and self-awareness is this dream. Between
the deep blue sea and sky are waves. There are a billion stories crashing on
Being is a trip. Awareness is self-awareness. Emptiness is
form. This is what the godhead looks like when it looks upon itself.
Like the starry sky as seen from Big Sur. Like the ten
thousand sunrises seen one morning in Grand Canyon. Like stopping on the
loneliest road in America.
Awareness being self-aware is all she wrote. There's a
streetcar named desire and there's a bus called further. Yes, I'm writing this
story one verse at a time.
But I’m skipping this 13th line. Other than being Krishna or
suffering Kali there's Zhuangzi. Paradox or paradigm. Caterpillar. Butterfly.
It stands to reason that if everything is in your
consciousness and without consciousness there is nothing, then everything is
consciousness. Or simply put, you are what you dream. Look out for coyotes or
look for love.
Once upon a time there was someone who believed she was born.
This took place in a time when people believed they were separate and
volitional. In other words, this took place before the Great Awakening.
Sometimes I’m an
actor and sometimes I direct and sometimes I have a great notion to be. Feed
the body but spare the mind. Everything is penultimate.
Self-awareness appears to be material but awareness always
is. And this dream is the holy ghost. It is said the only emperor is the
emperor of deconstruction but the only god is that I am.