Saturday, July 6, 2019

aumdada manifesto 190706st three phantoms

Each night as affectionate awareness returns to absolute, the living body left behind attempts to replicate its absent lover—as if it doesn't already know its midnight dreams are merely phantoms compared to this sun-drenched dream of consciousness itself.

And yet each day it has convinced itself again of something other (although shadows) in believing the material is not a phantom—but foundational. Despite the fact its scientific priesthood is unable to disprove the obvious. All appears in consciousness.

It's as if this phantom of an opera claims to be composer when it's just an operatic voice non-doing—there's a sandbar in the river where a glacial moraine is being destroyed by the current. By early July, a crowd of boats is playing there.


The mind dreams. Consciousness conceives.

Like romantic love compared to the unconditional.

As if the shadow pretends to be the light. Like every comic villain or super-ego.

Science as a process is a basic form of deconstruction. Science as a socially-conditioned theory is old-time religion, boss.

Ego acts. Intuition directs. Intent produces.

Them—memories don’t survive the past as i too well know—don’t go living just to make them i remind myself each hour—as if every second of my world isn’t made out of them already.

intuition uses signs. so does marketing. coincidence?

often romantic love leads to unconditional love. or family.

even i can’t fool self-awareness.

experiment deconstructs theory. but believing in scientific theory is a socially-acceptable religion. everything appears in consciousness.

if omnipresent awareness is intent on self-awareness, then following intuition is like instant karma for the ego. i am, i am that i am, i am that. 

changing the past is like imagining the future—it happens presently. call it manifestation. love. 


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