Thursday, April 21, 2016

Releasing the Birds of Mythology

Words describe experience as translated thru one's localized mythology. No mythology is alike and much is lost in translating a translation. Nisargadatta in I Am That is actually dozens of Nisargadattas in translation thru dialogues. When one gets close to 'yours,' others open. As various translations are seen through, consciousness speaks to consciousness.

Localized mythologies gets one through the long day's journey thru the night. Seeing thru one's mythology is the work of personal deconstruction. Transforming one's mythology is the work of clarification. Not knowing one keeps a localized mythology is as good a definition of delusion as there is.

Experiential mythologies utilizing names such as awareness and consciousness are still mythologies. If this is unseen, it's just another belief. And one holding to the myth of scientific materialism as if it's not a myth: what a tangled web one is weaving. Don't even get me started on the dangerous lunacies of religion.

Scientific theories of theoretical physicists are inconspicuous mythologies and evident swindles. Here’s another. Every person, every conditioned localized aspect of universal consciousness, is a universe to oneself, and the black hole connecting each one is love. Such a transformation of mythology is named Opening the Window.

Wednesday, April 20, 2016

Experiencing: Being and Unknowness


Being is the river and only the river knows the source. When the dream jumps in, splash!


Leave belief behind and feel experiential. Thinking is the memory of light but feeling is still the light, although diminished.

In experience, the dandelions are exploding on the southern slope above the exponential sunlight in the wide expanse of river.

I am the experiential and the experiential is what I am. This is not a special knowledge. This is the only knowledge.


The world is an image in memory, mistaken to be, alive, but it's not my fault I caught this virus. Forgive yourself and see.

Knowledge must return and learn to be before being the unknown. Consciousness is like a baby.


In being, what appears to be appears to be an appearance. A beautiful plan is just a piece of paper to the fire of experience.

Life is a testament to being self-aware. Consciousness speaking to consciousness is like experience speaking to inexperience.

This is about the experiential and not the existential—that's not that. Love is the exception that always proves the rule.


One can only remember the door. One never remembers walking through it—so sudden!

Sunday, April 10, 2016

This is Called Nine Names


Mistaking the current definition of a word for its usage in another spacetime rendering is another way of getting lost in translation. Definitions also transform. Obviously.


A wave becomes a frog becomes a wolf becomes an owl becomes a stormy Monday.

Yesterday is false. Tomorrow is a fantasy. Today is just the smoke of potentiality.

Note the two unstressed syllables in 'smoke of potentiality.' For prior to that, it's all iambic. Form is emptiness and emptiness is form.


A broken arrow once meant peace but now means accidental nuclear detonation. Thus all definitions pass.

Light of being is filtered by belief—or transformation frozen in the memory of mind—i.e. attachment—becoming an emotion—i.e. moving action.

This lack of self-awareness is an evolutionary step between the active known inanimate and non-doing of the great unknown.


Dragons only breathe out fire. Sages breathe it in. This is Tao of Thrones. Revisited.

It's not the nothing of atheism nor the something of religion, but this being that unknown which knocks me out in out in out in...

Suspending disbelief is practice for the seeing through belief as comedy is deconstruction. The popular is smoke. Esoteric is the fire.


I’d begin at the beginning, but there’s no beginning.

Instead, let me begin now.

By the way, every change in meter is a change in voice.


Remember, for every metaphor, there’s a vehicle and tenor.

In every Travis Bickle, there’s a Luciano Pavarotti.

Singing the song of self-awareness. Walt Whitman style or Emily Dickinson.


The grass reflects time. The recluse reflects space. The mirror is always Brahma, Vishnu, Shiva.

This is almost the end of the preface.

Now begins the apocalypse of Son Rivers.


John Lennon said war is over if you want it. This is dedicated to that spirit.

The world is what you think, believe, it is. So war is over when you think it is.

This is called Learning to Eat an Apple.


Remember death is just a concept and being is the only truth one knows.

This is called Utilizing Memory Efficiently.

It also makes an acronym.


Irony aside. Dying is easy. Deconstruction is hard.

This is called Primal Sutra.

Knowing when to stop deconstruction is not knowable. This is called Grace, Faith, or Trust. Depending what you call your self.


Dreaming lucidly is creating your own mythology. This experience is called Naming the Nameless.

In the Name of Only I Make Mountains Move.

That fine line between deconstruction and being that unknown is called Spontaneity or Sudden.


Only something knows how to believe in nothing. This is called Last House on the Left.

The world is either mirror or mystery. Clarity or mist. Subject or object. I or me. This is called It Is What It Is.

This is called This Is Called.


Number Nine

Signs of the Revelation

At Dunkin Donuts,
I was saying to a friend

I finally accepted what I am
within this dream of nature.

I'm a songbird
and songbirds sing.

Later, driving home,
listening to Open Source

on public radio,
I heard an interview

with John Luther Adams,
not John Coolidge Adams,

who is saying birdsong is
his primal inspiration.

Synchronicity is music
of this universal consciousness

and that goes deeper
than primordial baptism.

Such a sign is confirmation
I am singing what I am.

The Self-Awareness Game

Practice paying mindful attention. Dream lucidly and creatively. Only self-awareness shall spontaneously evolve!

This is the self-awareness game: dreaming what the world shall be. And it is written that shall is such a timeless word.

Now is the time for some beauty. Imagine spring. The daffodils bow to the winter and then. They say nothing gold can stay. But quicksilver shall.

I was raised in the church of fear and loathing. Only thought is deconstructed. Being is immortal space.

To take things personally is the original misdeed of universal consciousness appearing localized. Being is where potentiality is.

We were conditioned to be mountains. And then you saw the mountain is conditioned. I am the mountain. I am the sky.

Belief is magic. Desire is enchantment. I am in the world. My prayer: may they all see that I am not what we believed us to be.

Like kissing every thought before it becomes belief. Like balancing deep sleep and the ordinary mystic. Self-awareness! What else is there?


Friday, April 8, 2016

Alone and Drinking Under a New Moon

Lately a week feels like seven days.
And April has a tendency to freeze frame.
So I wouldn't say this is enlightenment
but I've deconstructed so much bullshit
I can see it in another almost instantly.
This makes it difficult for new relationships
and all the old ones have gone South
to die or be with loving grandchildren.
I like the Chinese poets and their way with wine.
I choose a stout instead seeking moderation
only because I value benefits of deep sleep.
This is where the poem will take a turn.
The absolute unknown is what I am
and every night I like to circle back
to pure awareness, black as Tao,
completely lost to memory or moon.
This is why Li Po jumped in the pond.

Tao. The Poem. Verse 28 to 36.


28.

Know splendor—
abide in obscurity—
return to the natural.

When something uncut
is split, it is used.
But a sage is unhewn and divides nothing.


29.

One can’t improve
the world—
it’s perfect spirit.

One’s hot—then cold.
Strong—weak.
On—off.

So a sage avoids indulgence in extremes.


30.

As armies occupy,
thorns arise.

The adept are resolute,
but never favor force—
for things gone overgrown decay.

That isn’t the Way.


31.

Weapons are tools of misfortune—
the sage avoids them.

When many are killed—
clearly mourn them.

But even in a victory—
observe it with a funeral.


32.

Tao is ever nameless—
none command it.
Rain falls without an order.

Make rules—
names rise—
stop!

Tao in use is like a river flowing to the sea.
  

33.

To know others—
wise.
To know self—
enlightened.

To overcome others—
strong.
To overcome self—
all-powerful.

To not be lost in status—
enduring.
To die yet not die—
immortal.


34.

Tao
floods all directions.

All rely on it for being
yet it claims no name.

Thus a sage not acting for oneself
accomplishes greatness.


35.

Whoever follows the Great Image
enjoys peace.

Song and cake entice the passersby
to stop.

But the Way is tasteless—
never seen, heard, or exhausted.


36.

To weaken—first brace.
To take—give.

This is Dark Light.

Soft breaks hard.
Fish aren’t caught in depths.

A nation’s weapon is its peaceful villages.



Wednesday, April 6, 2016

Tao. The Poem. Verse 19 to 27.


19.

Abandon knowledge, morality, and profit—
people will thrive.

Yet one more item is crucial:

hold to the unhewn—
self erodes, desires fade.
 

20.

What’s the difference between good and bad?
People conform—they’re all so full!

I’m homeless and useless with the mind of a fool.
I nurture on the Mother.


21.

Tao alone is truth.

Formless—it holds an image.
Indistinct—it shelters fact.
Hidden—it embraces essence.

How do I know? It tells me.


22.

Yield—
and be whole.

As hollow—
so filled.

Thus the sage embraces unity.

Not self-absorbed—
self-evident.

Not empty talk—
the way to the whole.


23.

Speak sparingly as nature—
wind and rain doesn’t storm all day.

To follow Tao is to be Tao.
In gain be gain, in loss, loss.

In Tao trust.


24.

On tiptoes, one can’t stand.
Showing off, one doesn’t shine.

For one on the Way, it’s called
excess food and a tiring pace.

Never indulge.


25.

Before all—
there was something silent,
empty.

Name?
Call it Tao.

Humans follow earth
follows heaven
follows Tao.

Tao follows itself.


26.

Firm—root of light.
Still—lord of the wilderness.

Sages walk with resources near—
calm amid lookouts.

Lightly—lose footing.
Wildly—lose direction.


27.

Perfect action is not undone.

Students are enshrouded light.
Teachers employ that fact
or lack all resources—
simply confusion!

So a sage sees subtly
 

Tao. The Poem. Verse 13 to 18.


13.

Honor and shame
bind us to judgment—

suffering is bound
to our own pretense.

But seeing all as oneself—
one is free to be here for all.


14.

Not seen, heard, nor felt—
one.

Rising, not light.
Falling, not dark.
Formless form.

Hold the Ancient Way
to journey here and now.

   
15.

Ancients were so unfathomable,
we only picture their appearance—

to be so murky as to settle into clarity,
so still to stir to life.


16.

Empty and resonate
in silence—

see all rise and return
to the root.

Not knowing is all-suffering
but knowing the way loses all

to be always.


17.

Best is nearly never known.
Next best is loved.
Then, feared—
the worst is scorned.

But words never do—
it appears
to happen
spontaneously.


18.

When the Way is forsaken—
responsibilities rise.

As knowledge ripens—
duplicity appears.

Then all becomes chaos—
blind faith persists.


Tuesday, April 5, 2016

Tao. The Poem. Verse 10 to 12.


10.

Can you rest
in the seam of opposites?

See Spirit and Instinct
as One?

Give birth
without claiming,

raise
without ruling?

This deepest power. 


11.

Shape clay into a cup—
from emptiness forms function.

As it is in a dwelling.

In being arises increase,
but in non-being rests value.


12.

Overkill deadens the senses;
wild pursuits enrage the mind;
treasure loses the way.

So a sage
observes insight
and overlooks eyesight.