Monday, August 31, 2015

The Book of Reflexive Happening

Is self-awareness something deeper then the scientific method? What role does love play in my experiment?

When the false sees through the false, what is truth? Knowing? Being? Loving?

Awareness aware of awareness is the instantaneous manifestation. This is satcitananda!

Matter is the closing; mind is the turning; knowing-being-loving is the grand opening.

The closing makes a big bang. The turning hurts. I am the grand opening.

Sunday, August 30, 2015

The Apocryphon of Memory

Memories are yesterday translated by tomorrow, neither of which exists of course. Or as god is my witness I'll never remember again. Yes, the real use of remembering is self-remembering.

Memories appear to be sacred because they're not real. If your identity relies on memory and your memory is unreliable, who am I? If memory is false, only existence remains.

One falsehood makes all false. There is a fine line between the concept of existence and existence itself. This is why silence precedes embodiment. All beliefs must pass.

One precedes three without two. I have to believe in something before I’m self-aware. Always look at the big picture and not some idol. Always remember 'I am' is not a memory.

I only know existence. If you want to speak to the absolute, stay on the line. True Tantra emphasizes the world to make it more obvious to see through. Seeing through yourself is being oneself.

Being oneself is the absolute direction. You will be tested for your own evaluation; there's no final grade. Between existence and the concept of existence is all the tea in China.

At first it's difficult to remember there's nothing to remember. Then the latest and greatest impediment to knowing who I am is indoor plumbing. And when I discovered writing was another business, I filed chapter 11.

Friday, August 28, 2015

Treatise on Quality of Understanding

"For realization, understanding is essential. Action is only incidental" ~Nisargadatta Maharaj

“A man of steady understanding will not refrain from action. Action is the test of truth.” ~Nisargadatta Maharaj

Is this concept of merit, then, the appraisal of one’s action in the test of truth, and not an individual’s doing but the understanding?

In observing one’s actions in mindfulness—one sees negative emotions—then the test of truth reveals an uncertain understanding—without merit.

One doesn’t accumulate merit through virtuous action—such merit is acquired only in furthering understanding—with earnestness—love in action.

The further one understands—what one is not—the more what one is—acts.

The quality of understanding is primary—the merit of action is simply the test of that quality.

One explanation for furthering understanding is just to know what I'm not and be what i am.

The satguru is one’s teacher and the world is one’s testing ground. I prefer my river hut and distant village to whatever. 

Thursday, August 27, 2015

The Apocalypse of Beginning

How does one start when there's no beginning? For example, I've heard white rabbits are well-read.

My birth is quite the story and the rumors of my death are completely unsubstantiated. This leaves here, now and change for all my thoughts.

I haven't yet begun but still I'm in the middle of this story somehow, somewhere, sometime.

It's true the world is in the mind; awareness is reflected in this being and that has nearly brought us to the end.

All mysteries require the one who pulls the trigger. The name in this one is Intent although for purposes of truthfulness, it continues nameless.

If there were a god, just how could it begin to know itself? Just where would this subjective absolute begin?

Wednesday, August 26, 2015

The Book of Ancient Math

Deconstruction becomes compassion or gets stuck in deconstruction; this is cynicism. Love becomes compassion or gets stuck in love; this is romance. Compassion becomes truth or consequences.

Romance is fiction. Cynicism is non-fiction. Truth is not either. Consequences are neither here nor now. Belief is the beginning of all nervous breakdowns. Self-awareness is the cure.

The hero studies beyond this world but practices in this one. The student studies beyond this world and doesn't practice. The master is beyond this world and is the practice. Do not mistake the master for your practice.

Deconstruction is the greatest martial art. Guardianship is the greatest love. Knowing oneself is all. All things seen by the eye is karma. All things seen-through by the eye is I.

Less than one nanosecond of being is worth ten thousand seconds of thinking. Ten thousand seconds of thinking equals believing. No mind equals x.

When does practice, be it loving or deconstructive, turn real? Yes, compassion. Yes, seeing through. A better word for seeing-through is understanding. Thus, compassion equals understanding.

If compassion is less than understanding, comedy. If understanding is less than compassion, tragedy. If comedy equals tragedy you're history. When does practice equal karma?

Between change and disbelief is what's happening. Your confusion turns to intent when you understand your hesitation. Reflection is your vector. Deflection is your fear. No math is an island.

Tuesday, August 25, 2015

The Apocalypse at the Movies

Startled out of bed while in the deep abyss of natural awareness, I dream. Daylight is the pigment of imagination.

Beliefs are filtering the light of this existence manufacturing the spectrum of emotions. God, they’re really colorful and mesmerizing!

Inertia is the world's one law and love its only outlaw. None of this is what it seems to be but all of it is what it is.

Awareness only sees itself in seeing through reflections in itself. Because there really isn't any object, no one talks about that subject.

Knowledge is experiential only. Words can only point to what one is. That's why we cry at the movies.

Sunday, August 23, 2015

The Book of Santa Yana Yada Yada

Behold the universe I am. From starting with the stars to interning with insects, what a piece of change it is. Awareness is the only constant.

Watching rain descend as mercury behind a picture window, I reflect upon myself. There's a certain Sunday samadhi in the air today.

Two cups of green iced tea was followed by a mug of coffee. That supplied the bang I needed.

Zhuangzi loves to tell a joke but Jesus loves himself some love. Addicted to caffeine and sugar, I prefer to write for prophecy. Or two.

What would nothing do?

Division is original beginning of the one unborn. When young, my peas were separated from my mashed potatoes.

While in high school, I subscribed to Time to contemplate the weekly covers of the latest war or neoteric politician.

College boy, I marched on Washington opposing Nixon's opposition to another people's opposition to and so on goes the game of drones.

This world has always been about the lowest commonplace denomination. Stop the presses! Love is one way, deconstruction is the other.

She takes the high road and he takes the low road and I'll be home in no time.

Saturday, August 22, 2015

Epistle to the Reflexive Eye

What isn't in consciousness?

Since time is in consciousness, consciousness knows all time. So if space-time is in consciousness, what is science really observing?

If self-inquiry is in consciousness, who is really observing consciousness? Thus the highest science is awareness absolutely aware of awareness.

Revelation appears to skip a step between mental observations. Revelation is the skip.

Read between the lines. The mirror does not reflect upon itself. Reflecting on my wondrous reflection—I am That.

Mind is the conditioning. Being is the healing. Awareness is awareness. Just be until you aren't being aware. Absolutely.

PS. The Absolute is aware of itself through the Big Being. Evolution is deconstruction of the material. Love is kryptonite. 

Friday, August 21, 2015

The Apocalypse of a Nameless Einstein

You are your own Einstein. The only wealth is being. The only job is teaching no one. We have forgotten how to conjugate the verb, to be. Start with I am.

If x is 10,000 seconds to be, how many is y dreaming. After all the questions are answered, there are no answers. The only thing you can't believe is your self.

Being is wordless but not unspeakable. The closest translation is unconditional love. It's not a question of immortality; it's the fact of no beginning.

I can never speak to one still talking. After awakening is the revelation. Every summer, it's me, yourself, and I sitting around the apocalypse, speaking.

Confusion is always in the turning. It's not about finding someone to love; just love before you think. Know love self-correcting is just karma. Think more different. Think mystical.

Science has yet to prove itself. Of the world, translated, is serious. In the world, translated, is love. The past is right before your eyes—now is right inside you.

Writing about nothing is comedy; dying is impossible. Between the socially-conditioned and the unconditional lives the recluse. There are two ways after one way but neither is memorable.

The shaman prescribes against a future. The shaman doesn’t recognize the past. Loose ends long for re-attachment. Enlightenment is post-psychological.

The plutonium rule is just to be. Self-inquiry is both our first and last rites. One, shine the light upon yourself. Two, translate truthfully. Three is nonduality of That. 

Wednesday, August 19, 2015

The Book of Gogo-an

The picture window blinded by the light, the air conditioner acting cool, the fan is turning its own head with every breath it takes.

The dog days of August have arrived and I’m just getting over this year’s summer solstice and its subsequent Bermuda.

Dark and stormy waves of consciousness reflect divided light until they’re stilled within their own inertia. After all, it is the light.

And after visiting the world, this hermit has returned to sit within his room to read the shortwave ideograms of Robert Lax

as if
in a

The Merrimack is my Patmos and the village is an open mic. I rise to see the picture window blinded by the light.

Tuesday, August 18, 2015

Spoken Words on Wealth

Maybe the rich get richer because the poor don't know they're wealthy. In other words, you dream what you believe you are.

A saint is just a saint because the saint believes that all are saints. Although belief is just a lyrical red herring here.

There's more to do with love than threads the hook of words. The source may be unknown and its intent has manifest the grid

but love is this electric trip fantastic power building bones and moving blood to fill the mind with just enough imagination

to perceive itself reflected in a trembling aspen on a precipice revealing empty space and a hidden river valley.

It's not the thought I-am I am but something more experiential like this love that’s always moving one,

and if I follow it intently, I will see I am the source. There's a certain hydrologic logic to it all.

The light evaporates the sea where wind is guiding clouds upon the continent and rain is falling on the peaks

which tumble over mountainsides informing rivers of their depth and leading them as love returning to the sea.

Or maybe the rich get richer and the poor get poorer because they haven't understood the wealth they are. I am. Just That.

Monday, August 17, 2015

Apocryphon of Taxonomic Transitivity and Love

Like filling the quill to tell the world, we burst the bubble of a desert emptiness and then surrender to the wood. Yes, forgiveness is a nondual thing. It's a matter of love, and not the love of matter. Talk less. Speak more. Write lighter

You are literally the light of the big bang. Actually, in a more scientific way of conceptualizing, you're the thunder of the original lightning. Sing your yawp! The world is not your oyster. It's your mirror. You're not the mind but you reflect. Consciousness is intended by x to reflect its y.

You think you're the hills and valleys but more like that space of mist. The talk of mystery. The speech of love. Vanilla fudge, ultimate spinach, and the strawberry alarm clock. Pet sounds, rubber soul, and between the buttons. Transcendental beat meta-modernism. Also known as now.

Thinking doesn't like to be alone too long. Love knows no one is alone. I can't tell you but you can hear it through me. It doesn't require any final calculations or tellings of story, but it may use them. Think different. Think not. It’s difficult being myself when I'm not being. Genus thought, species belief.

My Domain is the Great Unknown. My Kingdom is Intent. My Phylum is this Consciousness. My Class is all of Space-time. My Order is just Matter. My Family is our Body-mind. My Genus is a Thought. My Species is Belief. My Satguru says Species is Domain. I am That.

Science is just another language requiring translation. Evolution happens suddenly or not at all. Transformation is the name of the game of life. Only the unknown knows the instructions; only the known feels them. The time between world wars is equal to higher technology minus greater bandwidth. Space is racing time. Higher consciousness is racing base belief.

Love. Begin with love. That I am love. That you are love. That we attempt to trust in love. But one of us assuredly may not. And the other faithfully follows losing faith. As sunset follows sun. As sunrise follows sunset. As absolute zero follows one.

Love is the sublime disbelief of the world. Love is why you’re where you are. The five stages of immortality are like the five stages of death where love has made the turn. In the world,  faith holds love together; in truth, love holds the world together.

Saturday, August 15, 2015

The First Apocalypse of The Matrix

Crickets and an occasional bullfrog

Thinking is creation judging. Inspiration is deconstruction stopping. Devotion is silence listening. Revelation is compassion speaking. Manifestation is 'the absolute unknown' intending.

After compassion speaks, le manifestation! And compassion speaking is silence listening—deconstruction stopping—creation judging—Unknown intending—compassion speaking—it is what it is. At the speed of intent.

Pleased to meet you, transformation is the name of my game. The transitive powers of the absolute unknown: if silence listening equals compassion speaking, then manifestation is in the mind. Attention! this is high-level bullshit. Silence is the best response to all communications.

This is all ye need to know: compassion is the crux of the absolute unknown. Karma is the stuff of dreams. Be not entranced by mind games; you are not the mind. Forty days is the change, plus five days of fiesta for the uncertainty principle. Adjust all space-time according to your current belief.

Zen is the art of blowing minds. A koan is zen porn. Mind is any thing believed. The empire is belief itself. There's no translating nonduality. Bodhisattva is another name for prophecy. The empire writes the history but the satguru knows now.

I am the matrix. You will never be experienced. Rest in creation, deconstruction, silence, compassion, or the absolute unknown. Don't overthink it but feel it as much as you can. Do your math for no one but your self. Do you wonder? I knows. Call whomever. Not identifying with the mind is beyond all gossip. Know your nodes.

Radio silence Belief is the third rail of duality. Rest in transformation. The truth will make you gasp like a fish out of water. Knowing who you are is being what you love. Learn your metamorphosis table. Nonduality isn't black or white.

P. S. I love you. Compassion speaks. Bullshit talks. Know one or know zero—not your doing.

Saturday, August 8, 2015

Utter Light

In the quantum shadow world,
the light is speaking.
Every word it says is love
but every word of it is thoroughly misunderstood
and out spill walls
and weapons of mass misunderstanding
and holy wars of passionate belief.
But still the light is speaking
in creation of an infant's breath,
a baby's smile, a child's astounding laugh
with not a touch of irony or deconstruction
hidden in its unadulterated joy.
The light is speaking through
these several billion years of subatomic rubble,
reverberating through a world of high relentless evolution,
parting seven seas of clever smoke
resulting in a rush of tears
to see my self
at last. It seems to take forever
but it's just this blinking
of that wordless eye.