fermenting light

to know the meaning of oneself—

one needs to know what that self is—

and that process of discovery of what one is—

is the meaning of oneself

one is that unknowable subjective—

that to know itself divides itself—

identifying with a single object—

perceiving there’s no other but self

that universe between identity and perception is—

the fermentation that identity defines as suffering—

and perception sees as its instructions

there's no describing the indescribable—

the unclouded expression of the absolute is light—

the qualities of light are its space of awareness and its focus of unconditional love—

thus a definition for space-time is affectionate awareness—

and the full expression of the indescribable absolute is the space-time of affectionate awareness—

and the expressed insight of the absolute is 'i am that'—

pseutra suite 6 - essential division

i 

four gods am i 

from a whisper to a dream 

the world has created an identity out of nothing—and it doesn’t want reminders that it did so 

i divide myself in the intent to see myself 

the world has created an identity out of nothing—and it would rather fight about the details of identity than just be 

intent trumps division—for division lies within intent 

i divide myself in the intent to see myself—but identifying with an aspect of division temporarily blinds myself

ii

and the howl of self-realizing intent

self howls a primal howl in its atomic urge to howl communion with itself across the howling desert silence

who howled on its knees in the collective subconscious and was dragged off the roof waving oceanic and sutra

iii

from howl to a lullaby

the expression of self-awareness is love

intent, from that, unknown, being comes to mind in self-awareness

the joyous and enlightening—evolutionary—intent of the universe—is that unknowable self—becoming aware of being—oneself right now right here

may you stay forever unknown

iv

misunderstanding the necessity of division in knowing the unknown, one denies that part of itself

denial of this fourth god of division leads to active annihilation or passive nihilism

not alone but all one

love! not war nor apathy.

v

you're the truth but i can't tell you that

i don't pretend to know the truth—i am the truth

one doesn't know nothing until it knows two

vii

one can say thought is a process—within that of realizational intent—caught in an infinite loop—of mistaken identity malfunctioning

or one can say thought is a process—within that of realizational intent—requiring many loops to re-clarify its nature—there’s no malfunction

viii

there's no malfunctioning, only functioning

either you die before you die or you die when you die. either way, you're always unborn.

to learn to walk the high wire, you'll want a ladder and a net

the importance of being earnest; the importance of having faith.


ix

not any thing in particular but everything in general

sound accentuates the silence

put your mouth where your nothing is

the are no experts in new experience

the past is just as important as any kind of dream interpretation

love the two you are

x

the realizational process thru its mind creates an other—for knowing the other—is knowing one’s self——and another word for knowing is loving

it appears a messy process to that which identifies with the divided—the unknowable dividing itself in order to know itself

quantum probabilty is the result as consciousness delves so deeply into the 'mechanics' of consciousness, feedback happens.

the absolute pure subjective intent to know itself is instantaneous—it’s the mind within the cosmic process of that intent which makes time

universal consciousness, aka the collective unconscious, knows and shares all experience instantaneously—this is karma

in so many years, 'free will' be remembered as that quaint medieval belief before the great surrendering

faith in the unknown is just faith in one's self

just think it through to the jumping-off point and then love!

Ode to a Scene in Gravity

in emptiness, one howls. 

one howls to find another version of your self within another. 

in emptiness, one listens for another howl. 

across the desert void, one howls 

and then another howls. 

howling is the sound of silence. 

howling is intent to hear the sound of silence. 

howling is the poem and 

howling is the eye. 

howling is coyote in the middle of its maya. 

howling is the mesa, 

howling is the beauty. 

howl i-am to howl i-am 

the self-same howl of universal one i-am. 

this universe is one vast howl intending self-awareness 

and within that howling revelation is 

an unconditioned lullaby of waking. 

The Dimming of Our Golden Complex

The bottom line is light. Our evolution

whose art is all the universe is in

the business of enlightening intent.

The management forgets that data though.

Security becomes the number one

priority. Assembly lines are down—

but the building is protected by

the best insurance money buys. And meanwhile,

Research and Development is digging

for their treasures in a thing as far

as they can dig, until they see they’re digging

in their self, except they never realize

that’s their self—they think that that's a thing.

That's the funny thing about fool’s god.

I Went to the Woods Because

Every element in the woods 

is responding to the light. 

Spontaneity is the only design. 

Branches grow to catch the rays 

appearing to have traveled since 

another branch grew in the way. 

It’s all about the love of leaves. 

Holy photosynthesis, 

have mercy on my eyes which long 

to look upon the artlessness 

of indigenous creation in 

this current draft of shade and sky. 

There’s nothing us trees don’t know. 

This is how awareness moves 

unattached to lines of thought. 

It’s why we go to the woods.

Sam and Sara's Original Horror Show

When love mistook it was the mind, 

all kinds of hell broke out, you see. 

Well, love, it got real lost in all 

loose change and counterfeit three dollar bills 

and, well, I needn’t have to tell 

you it’s a god-damned sin, my friend, 

a love-forsaken bloody shame. 

It’s like some crosscut saw becomes 

an eye and all the sights turned out 

divided. I’m not talking long 

division but the slow and violent 

sort. It makes you sick to think 

of it. Like everything was either 

this or that and if you wasn’t 

on the side it occupied, 

well you was on the other side, 

and please believe me, that’s no scenic 

point of view to be. In fact, 

it’s all-out war. And not the worldly 

only, small potatoes too, 

just people being people, taking 

everything so personal. 

It’s quite the horror, don’t you think? 

all is self-inquiry already pseutra

seven billion selves suffering to know oneself

in seven billion welcome different loving ways,

all shimmering facets of the one diamond way.

nothing is ever wrong because

every apparent self is intending toward thatself

by following the love of oneself

in the best way imaginable.

the best way imaginable isn't

'the ends justify the means' or vice versa

but the hidden realization

the means are the ends *and* vice versa.

once seeing

'for I to know anything, I must first know this I,'

then any meaning of the universe is obviously

intent to know That, I.

Swan Song

At the wild mouth of the Merrimack, 

I pivot north to rove the shore. 

My Atlantic is quite pacific today; 

I feel my lake-like waves advancing 

like the white caps on a pond 

that seems like adolescent yesterday 

although it’s fifty years in memory now.

I didn’t know I was the lake back then,

and when I dived into the water

from the Dubois diving board,

I was really diving in myself.

This later insight arrived in meditation.

Earlier this morning I saw a swan upriver

floating on the slow outgoing tide.

I felt its graceful curve of neck in mine

as I turned to watch it pass, a brilliant

arc of white within the silvery mist.

Our silence watches all of this and knows

that none of this is what I am;

space-time is a single dream with infinite

dimensions in unfathomable intent.

Listen, the swan is going out to sea.

the heart of fall

leaves fall. 

fall is transformation. 

transformation is the time it takes to blink. 

blink is that great unknown i am which mind attempts to freeze in space and time. 

time is an interval between those transformations which occur in cycles like the sunrise or full moon.

moon is pointing to a wave.

wave is emptiness.

emptiness is wave. 

He’s Walt Whitman; Who Am I?

The absolute unknowable

is such the subject there’s no object

in that absolute subjective.

Since one can only know an object,

the absolute subjective doesn’t

even know itself. There’s nothing

but the empty mirror of an eye

with not even nothing to be seen—

extemporaneously

there’s absolute intent to know oneself.

Don’t you have that selfsame yearn to know yourself?

This universe is being subdivided for exactly that.

Have you reckoned with reckoning much?

Have you practiced to know the false as false?

Have you felt so proud to see you’re not the process

but the process is intent to know yourself?

Stop acting yin and yang and in that freeing

one possesses knowing of one’s being.

Mind’s Creation Isn’t Really Two

A blackbird on a live thin wire is vibrant 

with its Kwai Chang Caine Kung Fu. 

A great blue heron, like some prehistoric 

statue, is standing in the shallows that ensue. 

That one big bang is a brainstorm 

of the mind conjecturing this two. 

Which came first, the question or the answer? 

It's true the great blue heron isn’t really blue. 

Thoughts of fish begin to stir within 

an energy of water made anew. 

Again, the great blue heron isn’t really blue. 

The fork runs away with the spoon 

and the fool jumps over the moon, mon dieu! 

One last time, the great blue heron isn’t really blue.

And Every One a God

It appears to be a messy process—

to one identifying with the process. 

The Big Bang explodes like an awfully great notion. 

Stars collide like Bogart and Bacall. 

The earth erupts in a carnival of volcanic flames 

and breaks apart in workaday tectonic shifts. 

Hurricanes, tornadoes, waterspouts, oh my! 

And now, Neanderthals are clubbing like Neanderthals.

Everyone is acting like a god! 

But that’s the final measure of creation, 

last procedure in this grand holistic process. 

Evolution isn’t fundamentally pointless; 

fourteen billion years of cellular division 

arrives within this central nervous system 

suddenly now capable of self-awareness. 

So stop this moment to reflect within—

one is 

that great unknown 

making itself 

be known, 

for knowing is being 

which mind divides 

in order to know 

its self.

A Prayer for the True Fourth God

Three blackbirds aren’t enough. 

Without a fourth, direction is completely incomplete. 

The west is ceaselessly lost in trinity. 

And one may never know oneself 

without those ice floes of true north. 

O sacred vase and holy sake cup,

O Kachinas standing on the surface of a book case,

O blue guitar, O cactus plant, O radio,

without you i would never know

that what i am is nothing with potentiality

for everything within my own intent

to know my own unknowable existence.

O Parent, Child, and Holy Realizational Intent,

please accept these great ten-thousand objects

as another God within your sacred pantheon,

and let us pray the process is complete

and now and everlastingly perpetual.

Where the mind’s objectification is a vital operation

and the world is just the function run away within itself.

For hell is only heaven and samsara is nirvana—

so chop God and carry my true self.

synenergi

(there's this 

universal 

kinesthetic feeling 

like looking at thought 

with intuition 

there’s this soothing 

letting-go 

of yin 

and yang 

there’s this blissful quivering 

in intuitively assimilating 

the visceral universality of 

what I am) 

permeating all of this is formless 

silent 

unknown potentiality—

View Point: compassion and the false

Viewing the false as false without compassion is a viewing by the false.

And what is the false?

If the truth is simply the Unknown being—

Then the false is just the Known not-being.

Another word for the ‘Known not-being’ is ‘conceptual,’ or thought.

The Unknown is the noumenon, subjective, the absolute I, and never the me.

The truth of the Unknown being is therefore the I being, or I am.

Anything that follows the ‘I am’ is objective, conceptual, false.

I am a tinker. I am a tailor. I am a person. I am me.

Another word for ‘I am’ is unconditional love.

When this energetic Love is clouded by a thought, it’s called emotion.

It is light of Love filtered by the false conceptual.

I am fearful. I am happy. I am angry. I am sad.

To see the conceptual as conceptual is key to deconstructing the false.

When the false is deconstructed, only ever-present truth is now here.

But if the conceptual sees the conceptual as conceptual, then conceptual clouding remains.

When ‘I am’ sees the conceptual as conceptual, “I am’ is now here.

In other words, when Love sees thought as thought, Love is now here.

Compassion is the via negativa of Love as it sees the false as false.

If this seeing is viewed without compassion, then the viewing is conceptual.

And the ‘I am” is still clouded—

for viewing the false as false without compassion is a viewing by the false.

who says i am an ersatz villanelle pseutra

i've never lacked what i needed because i never lacked what i am. 

fear is the stand of love beclouded by the lie of death. 

half the things i say, i never said, and the rest of what i said, i didn't say. 

it's the need for complexity that makes it so difficult. 

it's the desire for simplicity that makes it seem too easy.

i've never lacked what i needed because i never lacked what i am.

romantic love is just emotion generated by a thought.

unconditional love is utterly the being of awareness.

half the things i say, i never said, and the rest of what i said, i didn't say.

you always yin to the yang to what you yanged to the yin.

if you see there isn't more to burn, there's always more to burn.

i've never lacked what i needed because i never lacked what i am.

every line is a letter in a bottle sent to others writing letters for a bottle.

prayer’s not desire for sustained existence but joy at unbelievable existence.

half the things i say, i never said, and the rest of what i said, i didn't say.

if love is not what’s moving you, then fear is driving you.

whatever doesn't kill you inevitably enlightens you.

i've never lacked what i needed because i never lacked what i am.

half the things i say, i never said, and the rest of what i said, i didn't say.

Four Enchantresses Usurping Memories of Richard Nixon - Prose as Poem, Poem as Prose

It was the Nixon Resignation Party, Van Morrison on the stereo singing ‘Jackie Wilson Said’ when she walked in and nothing mattered anymore. Who cares what Nixon knew and when he knew it? Who doesn’t have an eighteen minute gap?

Even that one memory isn’t actually reliable. It’s just a snippet here, a snippet there, and none of it resembles that specific holy now which happened then, or any other version of that moment from another universe we call a person.

She was married but something told me that it didn’t matter. Such prophetic moments will occur because there is no past or future in this universal consciousness and every now and then we know it. Did I really know it then?

Van Morrison is singing, I’m in heaven when she smiles, and Van is not the man but God, and I’m a prophet on a peak envisioning the pre-ordained apocalyptic mother of my cherished only child. I turn to Jesus, pass the joint, and say some words to this effect, I’m looking at the woman who redeems my overly materialistic world forever into now, and Christ says, man, that’s sacred stuff!

The rest is like some psychoactive dream. Her marriage heads out for the territories. We make love like Rosalita jumping higher. Five years later on, our guru child is born to teach us sacrificial love. But shit begins to happen faster than our amplifiers process it and this distortion ends in ultimate divorce upon the silver anniversary of John’s assassination.

The next thing that I know I’m standing in the ICU, my mother on the brink of death, although she’d last another four momentous months for daily heart-to-hearts; ex-wife, with our nomadic much-missed daughter all the way from California, surprisingly enough is there; and at my side my soul-mate lover for these latest thirteen years not knowing that we’d split apart the next one. I stop to look at these four universe-creating, life-transforming, heart-wise earth-strong women, and say something wise like right here right now within this single room are ALL the womenfolk who ever drove me unconditionally crazy.

But crazy in this world is sane. And sanity is love. And what I meant to say is love is all there is but it’s just filtered by the constant cloud of automatic unintentional unconscious thought, and these four influential goddesses have taught me that such undiluted love is more than just a lyric from a song. And this would light the way to other teachers teaching me there is no me, and further that this love there is, is all I am, indwelling in the unknown Absolutely Sweet Marie! For ‘Blonde on Blonde’ was playing on the stereo by then.

This Nondual Mythology

this nondual mythology utilizes abstract nouns, 

instead of names, 

to point to inner states of being, 

rather than external forms, 

be they physical or otherwise conceptual, 

in order to give emphasis to the concrete moon it is, 

and to which it points, 

and not the notional finger by which it points.

instead of god the father,

there’s Awareness,

that unknown unknowable potentiating pure subjective,

and source of all.

it’s like the empty mirror of oneself,

crystal pure,

without a speck of dust upon it ever.

the only language that it speaks is silence.

instead of god the holy spirit,

there’s Intent,

that unknown Awareness

intending to know 

its unknowable existence.

instead of god the son,

there’s Consciousness,

as if Intent becomes a life within itself,

reflection of Awareness,

an evolutionary being that forgets itself

in what it comes to call material,

as its memory in its great objectifying tool of mind remembers:

first, it’s not material nor conceptual,

neither body nor a person,

but being only,

pure ‘i am’
full stop;

and second, that this being is existent

only in Intent of absolute Awareness

knowing self-awareness;

and then third, there never is a first or second or this third

but only I Am That,

unborn, undying,

non-transformative
unbound—

no myth, no moon, no noun.

the psychoactive speedtest pseutra two

there's nothing wrong with a map if you know it's a map

mistaking the map for terrain is a simple matter of awareness

emotions are one's map to the clouding of awareness

romantic love is an emotion: unconditional love is the being of awareness

under psychoactive conditions when younger, i'd see thru false conditions of the world and be paranoic because it was the only world i knew

before deconstructing one's world, it's helpful to have a handhold on another; this is where the knowing one's being or 'i am" comes to play

there's every reason not to be awake

it's the need for complexity that makes it so difficult

it's the desire for simplicity that makes it seem too easy

it's taking things personally that makes a person

everyone is playing their part with all their best. bravo!

guilt is such a self-enforced imprisonment; the roman catholic church's greatest accomplishment

as if a revelation is avoided because one's ashamed one didn't know what now appears much more than knowable

guilt is auto-social-conditioning and so very difficult to escape; the warden is the prisoner

you know what you are and what you aren't, but you aren't what you are because you're still what you aren't

act as if now is not being remembered

act as if aware

act as if you know and not act as if you think you know

allow the transformation to transform

there is no cause but there is intent

what is the appropriate time?

whatever doesn't kill you, enlightens you

nothing happens then

half the things i say, i never said, and the rest of what i said, i didn't say

profisee 52 – languages

words

are the divided

language of the mind—

love

is the unifying

language of being—

silence

is the potentiating

language of the absolute