Thursday, February 28, 2019

To the Lion Looking for the Veedon Fleece

Memories are born, consciousness just happens. Pure awareness being self-aware. Now is the myth of evolution made glorious reality. If February goes out like Mars, March goes out like springtime fools in following our bliss.

No one knows what the grass knows because the grass is growing self-aware. Call it the absolute, the great unknown, the silver screen of pure awareness, golden voice of goddesses and gods, the pearl or what not. I am that.

It's die before you die or spring before sprung, like rhyme before reason or sing before sung, and Basho is always the closer. Zhuangzi says my present paradox is an instant proverb. Well we all shine on sings Julian of Norwich.

Mythologies point to consciousness only. Religion is like the waiting room. The great awakening is being unborn. Enlightenment is absolute. Between death and sacrifice, duality and universe, theory and love, the seasons are turning, turning turning, going beyond.

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