Sunday, January 28, 2018

Talking Butterflies

Singularity is not a theory. One is one, period. Anything other is one's projection only. One takes one stand in what one is. And one is my divine imagination, call it self-awareness. For I am that imagining I am, or really, absolute awareness.

Let me tell it like God's story. Within my most omnipotent self is naturally self-awareness. And this self-awareness is like a process to the seventh process of this story relative to self-awareness. Process is another word for mind. And self-awareness is a quality of pure awareness if the absolute contained an imperfection.

In other words, divine imagination isn't magic thinking, which is closer to the truth than western scientific rabbit holes in search of singularity in further subdivision, please excuse my other words, but more like Zhuangzi's Seven Inner Chapters.

There is a bird of paradise whose wings are clothed in diamond feathers like mirrors reflecting a sea of lightning far beyond the bang of thunder always crashing on this lovely land of waves and waves and waves.

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