Sixth Tantra. Christmas at Eleven.

Absolute awareness. Intent. Being. Body-mind. Ego and other as the world. After the projection is the revelator. Self-awareness.

Embodiment is like manifesting self-awareness. Imagine self-awareness three times.

Science is fiction but fantasy is as real as it gets before and after absolution. In other words, I am.

Footnote. Embodiment is not embodiment of the body-mind but embodiment of the universal—

both universal consciousness and its manifestation as the universe. Point a finger. Make a moon.

The difference between projection and manifestation is viewers like me and you and an artist like my self.

One learns from the world. Self-awareness makes the world. It all depends upon which side of the mirror I’m looking at or being through.

Projection is like owning a home but renting the world. Baby steps goes the teacher. I make the universe. Who needs to own?

Every wild projection is bested by an ace of hearts. Or a fifth of being. Or Jane of the absolute.

When the going gets weird, the weird turn manifestly self-aware. Like out of nowhere, Santa Claus!

If sex divides and love unites, what are you looking at? Don't believe in the kingdom of heaven. Be s/he.

Tantra Number Five in Seeing Through

belief is everything but love is something else
All hail the great and powerful cause. Belief is everything but love is something else. And severe renunciation is the zen of zen if zen is everything and zen is never something else.

it's like self-remembering
This Tantra says to kiss the idiot or is that Arthur Miller in After the Fall. It's like self-remembering except self is not a memory so there is no question of remembering. Gurdjieff was quite the trickster.

kissing the projection makes it manifestly mine
Kissing the projection makes it manifestly mine. Self-awareness takes an evolutionary and reflexive universe according to Charles Darwin, Albert Einstein, and Arthur M. Young. Respect the process.

squeeze the shaman
Turning projection into manifestation is just a matter of imagination. Go ahead. Squeeze the shaman. No thoughts, no prayers, no renunciation. No doing. Just intent's desire and a little imagination will do.

jesus is all my imagination
And Jesus didn't die for my sins because Jesus never dies. Plus there is no sin. Jesus is all my imagination. Thus Jesus dies so I can see through sin, belief, samsara, hell, whatever name of not nirvana, heaven, paradise—

ninety-nine parts attention
love and wisdom, self-aware absolute self I name. Imagination is ninety-nine parts attention to the emptiness of transformation like a headless head aware. And one part dreaming lucidly.

four footnotes to the fourth tantra

consciousness talking to consciousness sounds like an affirmation

but it’s just talking girl

it’s not that there’s not

pure awareness

it’s that there is

self-awareness

not two by half

four footnotes to eight couplets at half-time

prohibition doesn’t work because old medicines

not fade away

compassion before deconstruction

garysnyder notwithstanding

chuang tzu meeting zhuangzi on the way

no axe makes the axe

Fourth Tantra in Eight Couplets

All the world's a past
like intent's desire leaving the world in its wake.

S/he not being loving is
busy dying.

No mind is not no love unless
no mind is just all mind.

In fact, the past is resurrected by great love,
oh listen to this tantric Jesus talking.

Some like to keep the world around them sparse
because the past is such a nightmare.

Some like to keep the world around them half
because of love and wisdom.

In other words, denial still is in the world.
Imagination is out of this world.

This is called Tantra of Intrepid
Self-Awareness.

Six Footnotes to Third Tantra on One Bliss

It’s not nothing.

If pure awareness, then self-awareness. If self-awareness, then being. If being then dreaming. If dreaming then the lucid dreaming of self-awareness. If self-awareness then pure awareness.

Ah ha! Svaha!

Just imagine this as that and that as this and all is bliss.

Lucid lightning—

“in the very moment, in the natural disposition of pure being, as the original hyper-space that we cannot abandon, the natural state of pure pleasure is spontaneously arisen.”

Third Tantra

Bliss is the default mode of universal consciousness. It's really nothing special. Unless one has been conditioned to think otherwise. Bliss misunderstood is pain and suffering and all kinds of stress.

Self-awareness is the source of bliss as pure awareness is the ground. Bliss is the ground loop between awareness and self-awareness. Being. Consciousness. Love. Etc.

In the waves appear distortion. This is called samsara. Like reflections in a mirror. Or thinking otherwise. Seeing thru the looking glass—
          In Xanadu did Kubla Khan
          A stately pleasure-dome decree:
          Where Alph, the sacred river, ran
          Through caverns measureless to man
          Down to a sunless sea.
I am manifesting this. I never not was manifesting this.

One in a million is a teacher. The rest is just a puzzle to be deconstructed. After projection is prophecy. Before self-awareness is lucid dreaming—"al shal be wel, and al shal be wel, and al manner of thyng shal be wele."

Self-awareness already happened so to speak. This is just the sound and fury of thunder—and chain lightning. It's little understood that Buddha is telling Buddha what to do if Buddha meets Buddha on the road.

It's called loving deconstruction. Also, after Buddha kills Buddha there is—only Buddha. Like after Sutra is Tantra.

Talking Out of the Ordinary

Ordinary (adj.) Early 15c., "belonging to the usual order or course," from old french ordinarie "ordinary, usual" and directly from latin ordinarius "customary, regular, usual, orderly," from ordo (genitive ordinis) "row, rank, series, arrangement" (see order (n.)). ~etymonline

Love is not ordinary. But those who think it is are. For samsara is extraordinary. Pure awareness is out of the ordinary. Or rather that unknown godhead ground upon which the ordinary is projected.

Attention may be given but awareness is beyond such an ordinary transaction—despite the careless, effortless, and apathetic existentialism passing as wisdom-speak these days.

For awareness sends not its love into the world to reckon the world; but that the world through this unconditional love may be seen through. In other words, this unorthodox methodology of self-awareness.

My First Untitled Symphony

Don't believe the myth of self. Deconstruct the world. It's Chinatown. Forget it. The only known is being. That's the only knowledge of the absolute unknown godhead that there is. But don't believe this either. Even being is conceptual. In other words, I'm like the razor's edge. One belief and it's the Fall of Man.

Since the only known is the unknown, I dream the knowing this in mythic style. Every koan reveals bizarro world. So forget logic. And don't get me started on western medicine. It's time to leave my Maya's cellar. Who are you? Lately I’ve been dreaming the marriage of William Blake and Julian of Norwich.

Since I'm here already, let's make this evolutionary self-awareness a city on a hill. Remember Alice. It's wonderland. Construction! Pure awareness being self-aware is the only story. Like boy meets girl except non-duality. I kind of like the sincerity of Old English over irony of post-modern, or shit, the lazy existentialism of the present. But hey that's me.

Good myths are all unthinkable but a great myth is unbelievable. So imagination is to self-awareness as self-awareness is to imagination. So manifesting is direct path as if this universe is the result of some big bang. A river runs through the canyon of the dead. I turn on. I turn off. Like some common loon if seen from shore. The walrus was Big Sur.

Eleven Apocalypses by Merrimack River

Fate is everything but love.

The conceptual dream is like a pinball game of Newtonian physics until body-mind is dropped and quantum love creates another unknown vector for another dream.

This is called reincarnation. This is called resurrection.  This is in the same genre as that of alternative universes.

What is called desire by the world is not desire. This so-called desire is like following a train of thought as fast as thought can go until I think I'm catching fire.

True desire is Intent's desire. This intense desire is at the speed of love, or light.

What the world calls desire, I call secret ambition. What the world calls crazy love, I call desire. I can hear her heartbeat for ten thousand miles.

True desire isn't catching fire. That's just an extreme thought. True desire is the fire. There's nothing to be got.

You cannot break the rules of pinball, or samsara. Remember, the pinball wizard plays by intuition.

Intuition is another name for intense feeling. Feeling is another name for intense love. Love is another name for intense desire, a colloquialism for Intent's desire, Self-awareness.

Like actual deconstruction doesn't break the rules; it gets to know them from both sides.

november river

no boats no docks no nothing

wild unborn water

Footnotes to Second Tantra. Koan of Myself.

Every word a king, every line a footnote.

Listen, Shakespeare deconstructed all the classics, including all of Shakespeare.

Like the opening of Lankavatara. Like the resurrection of Christ Consciousness.

Focus. Belief is to religion as love is to self-awareness.

Alice in Wonderland, Four Agreements, Einstein, Nisargadatta, Longchenpa. What is The Second Tantra of Manifestation?

A prophet without honor is like an actor in some movie, but every prophet is producer and director, so never mind.

Manifestation without self-awareness is like believing in a yin of projection or the law of attraction.

Synchronicity is to happening as desire is to ~absolute intent of pure awareness being self-aware~ shining through the early morning fog, bare trees, harlequin moon.

Second Tantra of Manifestation

Projection is the world. Manifestation is my self. Projection is obscure. Manifestation, lucid. Projection tries to teach the ignorant but manifestation reflects the wise.

Projection is the world of my conditioning, the comedies and histories of tragedy, the whole samsara of it all.

Manifestation is nirvana like the seven billion golden Buddhas reigning over seven billion universes of one consciousness alone, each the Christ of gloria in excelsis deo.

Projection thinks like some religious reincarnation doing the same thing over and over again expecting unbelievable Einstein. Manifestation feels like instant self-awareness.

Curiouser and curiouser that one realizing what the world involves continues thinking in a worldly way of thinking while wholly knowing that this way of thinking is insanity according to that same Einstein.

There's more than one way to skin a samadhi.

footnotes to a declaration

and when i get that feeling, i need that natural healing, like penobscot mountain in acadia, or simply being, sexually or not—

what if whatever the world calls health was not? what if bizarro superman was the secret coke of buddha? what if one manifests the dream as it is—lovingly lucidly luminous—to the power of ten-thousand Maya?

here's an inside joke. intuitive observation is the force. as if synchronicity is past seeing future now, and vice versa. the one called gurdjieff would call this self-remembering. real yin. true yang. like tao.

this is dedicated to some amazing places: Acadia, Big Sur, Monument Valley, Grand Canyon, Half Dome, The Atlantic, Pacific Beach, Canyon Del Muerte. like hiking in Enchanted Canyon on the the east side of barbed wire.

if I am That, then That goes I, power of three. here’s the darkest secret, all sex aside, there is no secret. all secrets are sexist.

the simple Zatoichi speech: deconstruct belief but don’t throw out the baby love.

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A Declaration of Electrical November

It's not exactly freedom from the game of life. That would be insanity. It's playing by original rules, but manifesting new ones as I go along. My game on Cold Mountain.

Eternal ash trees in New England winter woods aren't exactly bare trees as almost every branch contains one ethereal amber leaf. So don't throw out the love that held belief together!

If self-awareness is a fact of omnipresence, being is the knowledge, and evolution, story. All is necessarily eternal. Thank you, thank you, thank you. But don't drink the electricity!

Excuse me while I kiss the Christ! Chain lightning over Hopi! Talking consciousness. In other words, on the grid not of the grid. Beware electric blankets.

Talking Tree and Verse

Consciousness is like sapwood uniting ground to leaf. Jesus, speaking as Christ Consciousness, says a similar trope this way:  "I am the way and the truth and the life. No one comes to the Father except through me.”

No amount of thinking gets the living leaf to ground, so death is not an option. Thus, to the world, experiential consciousness is quite the radical idea, but to experiential consciousness, the world is only an idea.

Simply said, there’s absolutely no one but my self. At worst, the world is my projection. At best, my manifestation. For I am the only poet! And if another poet once said, poet be like god, I am that god, I am.

Talking Self-reliance I Am Deep Sleep Truth

Social conditioning obviously stresses the importance of the social above all else. And so the world becomes all-important, its economies, policies, and philosophies. There’s nothing wrong with any of this. Through samsara I turn to nirvana.

But the world is only relative to the world and absolutely irrelevant to the absolute truth. There’s nothing in it for oneself. Self-reliance is not about a person working wisely in the world, but the experiential fact there’s only oneself and consciousness is the only knowledge.

Knowing this as absolute fact, along with those deconstructive corollaries of projecting and manifesting, is the only way to truth. Knowing this primal original knowledge is all there is—dropping like dreaming falling into absolute unborn deep sleep self-realizing.

footnotes on an island

what is awakening?

when kensho happens late in life but who knows what on earth this kensho is—maybe dementia?

what’s so bad about bliss?

here we are now. nirvana is samsara. imagine me?

what if aliens were enlightened and earthlings were not?

consciousness only. experiential always. don’t forget the pain of belief. always further. furthur?

to subtweet or not, is that the question?

My Private Island Stand-up Sutra

It's never what you think it is but it's always what you know. If every Buddhist killed the Buddha, there'd be no Buddhists—only Buddha. I mean it's not exactly dropping body-mind. It's more like renting.

Then again, what is body-mind if I don't think about it, sailor. The world is doing everything in its power rubbing the red dust of the world out of my eyes. Talk about tough love! Still, it's best to do some light reading—like mystery sutras—before one's eyes are opening.

All I know is consciousness. Like I was only told about my birth. And the senses tell me everything appears as attributes of energy—light, sound, smell, touch, taste—but everyone says the material opposite and I go believe them. I don't even want to think about their takes on death!

But Maya has a vital, crucial, consequential part to play in self-awareness. Many parts in fact. Everyone.

Imagination—when released from its conditioning—is free to picture self-awareness as it is—or as one imagines it to be—my private Lankavatara—off the coast of Maine so to speak.

As self-awareness is so self-evident, it's easy to forget the Dark Ages. In the blink of an eye is born a new belief. As they say, if you're not going further, you're gone again. Even if Hunter S. Thompson never said that, he said that.

Truthfully and experientially, all appears in consciousness. But once there was a great notion otherwise. Always respect your roots. The world scares you awake. Give thanks every night. Don't hurry absolution. It happens every early morning. Imagine self-awareness. As if I am the Light! Cameras! Projection!

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tl;dr 2

imagine the world

as some bizarro realm,

like this reflection

in a funhouse mirror

where everything is opposite of truth.

it’s a crazy game for sure.

but now, it’s dealer’s choice;

i get to call exactly

what is trump.

imagine that.

Son River’s Seventh Sudden Symphony

Confusion begins believing there are others who impart their precious knowledge to myself—

there is no one but oneself and that is all the knowledge there is.

Without this experiential understanding, the rest is so much noise and commotion.

So a sage points a finger to the moon and the world believes it has to go there.

But listen to the little lower telling, I am Moon as You are Moon and We are All the Absolute's Reflection.

The only authenticity is consciousness. All belief is second-hand.

Not that there's anything wrong with this—

for the world—is like a Mayan auditorium—and Beethoven's Ninth is the teacher—

the violence and sirens—the lies, betrayals, ignorance—and inattention to—All the Signs of the Prophets—followed by an Ode to Joy and Kensho—

In consciousness alone is the energetic feeling of the senses before the mind creates a story all about it

—call this bliss—

and that eternal sudden insight into unborn Absolution—I am That

Every lover knows what rebirth really means.

Every single person knows that sudden sighing of well-being

in deep sleep—like Death I would imagine.

.

going prime. a sonnet.

dm while openings are available.

first consultation is always free.

i know the sidewalks of the broken-hearted.

jesus imagined all your sins already.

go in peace. pay at the exit.

buddha explains everything in exquisite code.

jesus lives it. this is my humble translation.

buy it or not. the odds are one in a million.

the joke is i am. text me already. priceless.

get in on the ground floor while you can.

options are still available. no irony necessary.

sonrivers.not2@gmail.com