Sunday, July 31, 2016

Number Eight Dream

As long as I think I understand the absolute truth, there's only me who doesn't.

Self-awareness is heightened by this evolution and limited by this evolution. Self-awareness is now.

Potentiality is unimaginable, so one imagines. One wants more but needs nothing.

Even if not energized by egoic reaction, the dream doesn't end but fades. Until the diary is opened at the end. This is called the closing credits.

Every morning you know this: this is my dream but I'm not this dream. Play it forward.

One already knows how a dream state works. Know that one is always witnessing a dream. Asleep or awake.

See me, feel me, listen. This is all one has to do. And while awake, I witness the original dream of being as well.

The latest mythology is scientific materialism. This happens to be the language I was taught. But my translations are from the heart.

Loving being is not a sickness. It's the original condition—on the unconditional.

Variations on a That

My sunshine shines
with the one
true knowledge.

I am not something,
not even that primal
something, I am.

Discard all concepts
of what I am,
including the original

God concept, I am.
For I am that
which I do not know.

Saturday, July 30, 2016

An American in the City of Translation

Belief is a passing phenomenon held in memory within the one true phenomena. Karma is my entertainment.

There is a god. There are no people. To truly be, be that which isn't being. This is called being the unknown.

Being aware is the immaculate conception. Body-mind is the bonfire. I am is the light of being aware.

All talk is the book of dying. Dreaming is the worship of being. Waking up is part of the American dream.

Friday, July 29, 2016

Because Fool

To be is to be the fool. After I am is to be. The body is only the shape of the seed. But the flower is something completely different.

The seed of consciousness is itself the original sin. The fool is missing the mark. Always follow self-awareness.

There is no point and there's no moon. The art of being involves the balancing of subject and verb.

Being is a beautiful concept but the butterfly is Zhuangzi. Chuang Tzu is something else as well.

Return to desire. Love is the point of intent. Observe; every reaction is your instant karma.

Being means new game. Reset. An act of contrition without the catholic guilt. Call it compassion.

The matrix of the vital breath is pretty complex. Somebody's dream is always someone else's nightmare.

Thursday, July 28, 2016

Straight Out of Prana

Return with forever...

Oaks move. 
Wind whooshes. 
River of air. 
The butterfly. 
Worm of being. 
Always only sky.

Parashakti. Worm of being. Gnawing gnawing gnawing. I am. I am. I am. Caterpillar of this magical reality. Spontaneous yet subtle.

The sky can't see the sky.
The sky can only see the clouds.

The one that sees through the highest dark cloud being is the knower.
Such a Noah isn't you.
O it is I!

Afterword. Deconstructive metaphysical mythologies become religions if you think they're for your benefit. Always keep on asking, who am I?

Tuesday, July 26, 2016

I Am is the Lotus

Every action is 
when that action has
originated from a thought.

One can sit and watch 
all thoughts float by 
without attaching to 
a single one

or one can walk and watch
one's own reactions
with the same

But to do no harm
is action only rising
out of being
like the lotus

giving rise
to just
that faithful

Monday, July 25, 2016

Eye Stories

In the beginning of
no beginning
is and isn’t

then there is
the spec-

I am

there is
with a world of ashes
on the hot coal of being

and when
the fever of being
breaks, there is nothing,
as always, but


Sunday, July 24, 2016

Four Passages from 'Prior to Consciousness'

This consciousness is a tree, but there was a seed - go to the seed. The consciousness you have now is the same as the child consciousness; hold on to that, that is enough. So long as the consciousness is there everything is so important to you, but if that vanishes, then what is the worth of this whole world to you? Who is the knower of the seed? Give attention to how this "I Amness" has appeared - then you will know. Accept this identification only: that you are this manifest pure beingness, the very soul of the universe, of this life that you observe, and presently you are just wearing this bodily attire. Make a note of it; you have taken down so many things in life, just for fun, why don't you take this down also and see what happens? See what happens when you look at the moon and know that the moon is there provided you are there; because you are the moon is. This grand concept, this joy, you directly experience and enjoy. (5)


It is something like a deer taking rest in the shadow of a tree. The color of the shadow is neither light nor very dark, this is the borderland. Neither jet black nor very bright, halfway between them, that is that shadow. Deep blue, like clouds, that is that state. That is also the grace of the Sat-Guru. Everything is flowing out of that state, but this principle does not claim anything, is not involved in anything that is coming out of it, but this beingness is available. That deep, dark blue state, the grace of the Sat-Guru. This is the state of the jnani, this is a very, very, rare, natural samadhi state, the most natural state, the highest state.

You must have a firm conviction about this. Once the decision is taken, there is no moving away from it. The fruition of your spirituality is to fully understand your own true nature, to stabilize in your true identity. One must have patience, the capacity to wait and see. (8)


Leave it alone! There is no question of elevating to a higher level. Here it is only a question of understanding.

Iswara is the manifestation of the five elements and the universe, the "I Amness." To the Absolute, the witnessing of that "I Amness" occurs. This is the Absolute standpoint, siddha. This understanding should not be claimed by you, who are a sadhaka. Sadhaka means the process of getting established in the Iswara principle, the consciousness. (21)


There are twenty people in this room, all twenty people leave, then what remains is there, but someone who has left cannot understand what it is. So in that Parabrahman which is without attributes, without identity, unconditioned, who is there to ask?

This is to be understood, but not by someone: the experience and the experiencer must be one, you must become the experience. What is this Parabrahman like? The answer is, what is Bombay? Don't give me the geography or the atmosphere of Bombay, give me a handful of Bombay. What is Bombay? It is impossible to say, so also with Parabrahman. There is no giving or taking of Parabrahman, you can only be That. (25)

The Magical Red Wind

The dream happens. The mind speaks in many tongues. There is one translation. Love.

The circus is in town. The clowns are speaking with ten thousand faces.

Although the Joshua Tree is sprouting from the desert floor, the desert floor is still the desert floor.

When walking is the meditation, watch one's actions pass like thoughts that pass as sitting.

Sitting and walking are the first step but being is the final concept.

In other words, doing no harm is not doing anything until being does.

Drop three times.

Not embodiment as much as disembodiment. Thoughts! Action! Light!

Key concepts: actions are thoughts and being does no harm.

Some sit, few walk, one is done.

The fourth state is the death star which one longs for like the deepest sleep except I’m not that tired of this being yet.

And being is the first and final speck.

Here's an idea. The big bang is the movie. The light is the sun of consciousness. But I am inside-out.

Being is the evolutionary climax of one's reflexive experience in the process of self-awareness.

Being is not defined as living, as the absolute is not definable.

The world begins every time I know I am.

The world is spontaneously analogous to being.

Being is non-doing. Non-doing is like love.

I know being is going further. And they say death is something otherwise.

On the other hand, deep sleep is like being merging with being.

Fog-bound rock-bound sea.
Lichen-covered eastern pines.
Deep sleep, deep sleep, deep...

Saturday, July 23, 2016

cold poem 1

I Is the Witness of Am

All beings are being but only the human being after forgetting being knows being. Such is the magic of the material world.

If to love being is to be, and being is the unknown knower knowing, then I am that.

Let it be and realize being is a concept too.

The love of the world and its experience is the mishandling of the material as being.

Loving being is nothing personal.

Just be and love this being. No one ever knows when this primal fact will merge with the absolute unknown.

In other words, the concept of me is, of course, never there when the primal concept of being is being seen through.

If not being, not thought. Not the experiencing. The knowing.

Being is all of space-time but knowing is gone gone, gone beyond, gone altogether beyond.

Deep sleep disproves every state of dreaming.

The person is to the world as being is the universe. spontaneous combustion.

Being is new but not real. Only I is real.

Maharaj says to "put your money away and take my water."

Follow the river to its source and there you shall see there is no water.

There is nothing higher than being and in being there is no concept such as being higher.

Thursday, July 21, 2016

Towel and Tool

there's nothing to do—

but dropping that thought is 
the first thing to do.

Drop thought and rest 
in the unrivaled knowledge of being.

The only spiritual knowledge 
one needs,

love this being—
and form no new religion.

Tuesday, July 19, 2016

On Reflexive Speaking

I am what I eat. And I eat I am. Tao is as Tao conceives. Wave or particle. Yin or yang.

One is mortal because one is immortal. My concepts pass because I'm not a concept. Dreams fade because I'm not a dream. Follow the fractals.

As the world becomes clear, you will be disturbed. As you see through the clarity, you will be amazed. As you shall witness all as sovereign.

Paranoia. compassion. eyewitnessing. In other words, compassion trumps paranoia. These days, it's right before my eyes.

The I-witness is silent on such matters. It's like an almost desert dry full moon tonight. Listen to coyotes howl in Cleveland.

Deep sleep is a name for where I come from. I don't know about you but I go home every night. 2016 might be a sight. but look out for 2020!

When Consciousness speaks to Consciousness, only Consciousness can translate that to your language.

Read words as words. Let words rest in being. Translate rested words to mind. This is called Reflexive Reading.

“It is something like a deer taking rest in the shadow of a tree. The color of the shadow is neither light nor very dark, this is the borderland.”

Sunday, July 17, 2016

Chop Chop

Somewhere on the Bay of Fundy, 
high tide is rising to 
the height of fifty feet 
or more. 

On the other hand,
I’ve never seen a land
as flat as that around
I-40 on the Texas Panhandle.

This Sunday morning I’m at home
in the middle of a summer weekend
full of coups, mass murder, and more
political 3-ring circus acts.

Still, I know there’s nothing
to be done each morning
but wake up
and swallow water.

Wednesday, July 13, 2016

Sans Everything

As the unknown knows
the unknown,
there is a knowing.
This knowledge is called being—
I am.

As the knowing
doesn't know—
this is called the world.

And as the unknowing knowing
suddenly knows,
all’s the unknown

Tuesday, July 12, 2016

The Pendulum Swings from 0 to i


The world begins
when one believes in two.

The world will end
when one sees through this two

to no particular point of view.


Survival is the name
of the evolutionary game.

But being unborn
is the crown of creation.

Friday, July 8, 2016


all of this
is but
the sweet nothing
whispered by

i am
that says—i am

but don't be mistaking
my word for
my self

yet every summer
the word of spring
begins to eat itself

the world is only my word
being is my voice—
I am the silence

Friday, July 1, 2016

Catawba Aura Sky

Following the Black Mountains of North Carolina on the Blue Ridge Parkway,

there’s a place they call Craggy Gardens where Catawba Rhododendron bloom in June at 6000 feet above sea level.

The colors lilac-purple to magenta reddens the rugged landscape.

From out of the deep eastern valley arises this universe of phenomenal irregularity in tone and occultation.

And from out of this arises the silent watchful flowers of indigenous and everlasting Issa

saying unto all—no one comes to the source but by this peak.