Tuesday, April 11, 2017

Peepers. Symphony for Agni with Miles Davis 2 go

Because I am, all is. Because I think it is, all is my projection. Because it's my projection, it dances to my tune. I am the piper at the gates of dawn.

Once I think something's good, it's automatically implied there's something bad. But there is no thing but my projection.

For there is no like nor hate but only love, my first and last illusion.

I love the sound of peepers in the spring evening. It sounds like...awakening. Deconstructing consciousness is bound to be the very next phase. As if the absolute is self-aware and this appears to be an evolutionary universe of being becoming self-aware. Dis-identifying first with the body and last with being, pure awareness is spontaneously self-aware, or so it would appear. Yet awareness being self-aware is a package deal. As if to dream the impossible dream. Frogs alive!

Consciousness is the only medicine and appears in many forms.

It just feels like there should be fireworks tonight and then I remember to listen to the peepers.

There's past in those peepers but there's something present too, like April mixing memory and the holy spirit of evolutionary intent towardsthis dream of self-awareness. 

When intent appears, it registers in memory as a bolt of lightning ever-present. And when intent appears, it registers within the present as a flash of synchronicity. Thus, intent is the Trinity of: awareness being, being knowing, knowing awareness.

The smell of spring. The revelation of the spring. The genesis of springtime.

Nature's first green is this sharp splash of peepers in awakening air.

Singing love, synchronicity, and dreamtime.

It's as if my living room is Cold Mountain come the springtime

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