Saturday, April 22, 2017

1704222310 or denial is the river

Once upon a time, she thought she was a person, and every now and then forgets she's not. She used to wonder why her god condemned the world to suffering violence and war. Now she knows there's other definitions for division.

She can't deny her being although she only uses such possessive pronouns in a manner of speaking about that which appears to matter. In order to be self-aware, one must first be unaware, and her earthly guardians, lovingly or otherwise, ensured she was.

Every now and then, she felt as if there was no then, as if a river were to suddenly appear within an Arizona desert. Then she read about her consciousness and knew she was that consciousness and consciousness is pure awareness being self-aware and that is that.

The grass is green. The sky is blue. The sun is yellow. I am being red. Every leaf is testament to that unknown and absolutely sweet Marie the wind is crying.

Not only is beauty truth and truth is beauty but red-winged blackbirds, cherry blossoms, orioles, and absolutely self-awareness. Nothing is as it appears to be said Alice in some laundromat at Second Street and Vine.

Twenty years of schooling and I never made the first shift, says Alice to Bob Dylan. There is nothing you can do about it said Alice to the caterpillar busy deconstructing its construction on the way to self-awareness.

Or is it just a butterfly she sees one day within a dream up high upon the blue ridge. Another day, another singular satori. One day a daughter comes from her own body and she begins to know the absolute significance of division in understanding non-duality.

Mind-training is just another name for deconstruction, a most earnest postmodernism. Deny the thought of being all you want but denial is the river.

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