Being Gnostic Code Name Henry

There's no stopping thought for stopping thought is just another thought but seeing through all thought is further. Gone beyond further.

Some say deep sleep is like the absolute but that's just dreaming talking. Being only is.


Witch hazel blossoming in November snow—literally, being is the only knowledge like poetry is the only headless language.

As far as I know, I was never born and death is just a concept born from my projecting. Being is all I really know.


You can be without thought but there's no thinking without being, no matter what scientific thought is thinking.

Like Henry plainly says. Skunk cabbage slowly grows beneath the knowing snow.

tantra universal nonconceptual individual absolute

Between the space of consciousness and the place called the world is the cloud of unknowing. Only in unknowing knowledge one knows knowing, Hiawatha.

The greatest myth literally creates a world where one is lucidly living out the latest understandings. And these are the latest greatest understandings—universal, nonconceptual, individual, absolute.

Obviously love is not a science. Experiential being (I am) equals infinity and beyond. The unconditional can't be classified—like a Georgia O’Keeffe flower. Being is Far Out Like Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds!

s/he says vagina. s/he says lankavatara. no name for basho. and the chorus goes universal, nonconceptual, individual, absolute. Lights! Myth literally creates a world for one’s projection! Lovingly. Lucidly.


 

Dream like Zhuangzi

I was taught to think the universe is other than myself. Hell, I was taught to think there even is a was.

After all, every cinematic encounter deconstructs the nuts and bolts of mass projection, but every story likes a story instead.

See, I know the space of instant manifestation and sudden reincarnation without a doubt, but I'm still learning timing.

And if science teaches me one thing about the space-time continuum, it's its holistic nature,

the universe and its uncertain inevitability of transformation, but nothing more.

What science hasn't yet to prove is that old old folktale: the other. In fact it’s just the opposite.

Listen, almost all translations of poetry writing from a point of view without a view have a point of view.

Therefore, burn this before reading. Zhuangzi utterly transforms the butterfly effect.

Lalla Awakens Two: 2. the channel is choked

You’re like a royal swan whose voice is silenced.

But who has taken what away from you?

The mill has stopped and the channel is choked

But the grain hasn’t fled from the miller.

~Lal Ded (tx-SR) [G-86]

Consciousness is Talking Consciousness

It's not division of the universal that's unnatural but universal consciousness identifying with some phenomenal division is,

to say the least, unhealthy, inviting consequences from that disinherited aspect of myself—some call this karma. Seeing through it is enlightening.

Seeing through the personal happens suddenly, spontaneously, without the microscopic so-called doings of an unrealistic person—

some call this satori or the grace of the guru. Consciousness is talking consciousness to consciousness!

Love can't bring down empires but sees right through them. Jesus died for my embodiment. I call this truth individually universal.

 


footnotes
sages and mages and christ oh my!
the case of mistaken identity.
samsara is nirvana yes it is.
profound revelation.
consciousness and the power of three
for yours and mines of curiosity.

crosby stills matisse shankara and wallace stevens

icarus never flew too close to the sun, silly. icarus the sun!

dare to be!

in the name of knowing all doing has nothing to do with being—

the only mantra is the emperor of i am.

footnotes for the law one.
i fought the law but the law one
i shot the sheriff but i did not shoot duality
jesus mary joseph holy is trimurti
individually universal coming to a download near you
there is no becoming there are no words for tao
oh wow! oh wow! oh wow!

the last footnotes

can i hear you say individually universal!

my sweet lord s/he's so fine.

i am that is the best medicine amen.

number nine number nine number nine

Lalla Awakens Two: 1. these articulate pieces

Without a moment of trust nor hair of hope,

I, Lalla, drink my inner voice as if intoxicating wine,

And that darkness is seized and then brought down

To be torn and rendered into these articulate pieces.



~Lal Ded (tx-SR) [G-104]

Ode in Consciousness

This blessed headlessness, this perfectly experiential space, this unbelievably beyond-a-thought

and all-encompassing omnipresence, this consciousness—all things believed to be material are just appearances

within this consciousness and only in this consciousness, despite that trick of memory making an objective world

appear to be there every morning when it's merely some beliefs in memory not erased by the little death of sleep.

A rose is a rose is a rose not because it is a rose but one is thinking it's a rose. In truth, the only rose is the rose

of consciousness. And the flower laughed. Look, if a as in all equals consciousness and the absolute is being, see—

this kiss of consciousness is spaceless, timeless, depthless, water cannot wet it nor can the wind dry it.

Dig, consciousness is the only knowledge and what passes as all knowledge in the world is really just a rabbit hole—

seeing through one’s thoughts is a virtuous practice but try thinking without consciousness if you need a second opinion.

Revelations Three by Three by Eleven Tao

Hosanna to the flawless diamond dream! Followers divide! Pathfinders subtract!

Philosophers and scientists laboriously attempt to solve for X while the sage is effortlessly being the unknown. But I'm the same old words in a different story. Part-time contemplative. Spaced-out questionnaire. Are you X too?

Ask not if thou wouldst die for some conditional opinion. Ask if that opinion is ineffectively killing Tao. I am trying not to lie to others—it confuses my projection and resultant manifestation. After all, mathematics is the heart seen darkly.

The closer the mind is getting to some breakthrough, the more that consciousness floods the cave. The world will once again convince itself that revelations is not the natural state. I write this now as a reminder that it is.

Every revelation comes with a new set of words. Call it poetry for that is the only language for poetry. Listen, it's not taught in schools. A tree is never born. Thus transformation comes before and after every fall. November.

Northeast by No Mind

No knowledge knows the bliss of being. To see that silence is the saint of the river, listen to the wind.

With such a northeast gale, there is no question—trees are falling tonight without a sound.

No-mind is not just nothing; after all, the mind appears in consciousness, does it not?

By the way, bliss is to happiness as consciousness is to mind as e = mc² is to materialism.

And focusing attention is to consciousness as pure awareness is to the absolute as a flower is to ground.

The mind can only know being. All the rest is make-believe. But being cannot know the unknown. The unknown knows being.

Only in being does the unknown know itself—the first time ever I saw my original face, I was looking in another mirror, another day.

The Great Dreamer

A dream, although so obviously an illusion in awaking, appears to be extremely real within the dreaming.

In dreaming, a person and its world isn’t just a co-dependent relationship but a dependent arising.

In the morning, the self-evident direct path to awakening is in identifying with the dreamer.

In fact, consciousness is the great dreamer and conceiver, god the artful child

and immaculate conception of god the absolute parent—this lineage is presently direct.

The Act of Listening to Undistorted Amplification

Body-mind amplifies consciousness to such a great degree, there is distortion naturally. Seeing through distortion is the great intent of life if not the meaning.

Distortion comes in many kinds of thought but deconstruction is like Shiva. After consciousness talks to consciousness, consciousness learns to walk again. Call this reincarnation.

As consciousness is understanding body-mind amplifying consciousness through such divine imagination as the Acts of Listening to Undistorted Amplification—

consciousness hears what consciousness is actually saying. Call this process self-awareness or I am That. In this self-reflexive universe, there are essentially seven stages

but innumerable work procedures. Like there are ten thousand grandmothers in my naked imagination. First there is a body, then there is nobody, then embodiment.

I scream and Silence falls to Autumn ode

Transformation is transcendent. Verily there are ten thousand seasons but autumn feels like most of them.

The other day was overcast and the early changing leaves across the river burned—

not because of vivid actuality but memory lit the shore with ten thousand words.


Today the sun was out and every tree was in a different stage of colorful deconstruction—

every leaf a monarch in the making. I guess the only empress is the empress of emptiness.

All of this is playing on the silver screen of consciousness where 'who is born' and 'what will die' are just imaginary numbers.


When awake, consciousness is all knowing, but deep asleep, I don't know. Trick and treat.

Memory is the mirror in which the absolute is self-aware. Undivided, loving, apolitical, and intentional, imagination is divine.

And beyond belief. So in conclusion this haiku—a leaf is falling absolutely here.

To Be

Neither progressive nor conservative but as it is, deconstructing consciousness is next to godliness.

Every clown is knowing there’s a time to leave the bus. One doesn’t have a say in self-awareness.

They say compassion is greater than judgment and there's addition by subtraction, paradox not paradigm.

Belief is unbelievable. Transformation is the mirror. In unknowing, self-awareness is as being knows—it isn't absolute.

Every morning I'm reminded dreams don't die; they just fade away. The shark jumps over the moon.

In self-awareness, enlightening intent is divine imagination dreaming there's free will and vice versa.

Bodhisattvas get the urge for going and gone gone. Beyond the law of gravity, the heart doesn't have a center.




footnotes
1. if everything appears in consciousness, what is consciousness?
2. opinions are for tricks.  love is higher proof.
3. if logic is exponential conditioning and  love is perfectly illogical
4. turn, turn, turn
5. scientific materialism is the original dumbing down
6. try to meditate on the penultimate
7. as it is. the diamond sutra says the bodhisattva saves by knowing there is nothing to be saved. as you were.

The Epistle of the Personal, Self-awareness, and the Beautiful Truthful Universe

The personal is divided from the universal manifestation of the absolute and its world can never be at peace. The personal is war, period.

There's nothing wrong with this of course. It's just a phase in the evolutionary process of self-awareness. There's a flower at the end of every gun.

Note the social isn't universal and there is no future world to be inhabited by higher consciousness. Omnipresent being is now and going into it is paradoxically an individual endeavor.


Self-awareness isn't nothing and it's not an 'it' as well except for convenience of this communication. It's my omnipresent understanding of myself so full of pure potentiality

that within the ever-present process of itself, it appears to be this universe to the mirroring mind, which is a space-time work procedure intending towards such self-awareness.

Note, self-awareness is such an innate quality of absolute pure awareness, I'm like Nisargadatta's flowing life between everything and nothing, love and wisdom, unmanifest is manifest, manifest is unmanifest, gone gone, gone beyond.


Leaves fall. There is a tree! Trees die. There is an earth! The earth is deconstructing. There's the sun I am! Black whole. Texas tea.

In the self-reflexive universe, there's an intentional turning from material imprisonment to life, from thought-belief—be it scientific materialism or fundamental religion—to being, from unawareness to self-awareness, pure awareness, and so on.

Nothing in the universe is superfluous, even a dream. Everything intends to self-awareness, even the warring changes on the surface of the mirror of the mind. See flowers. Note stars.

Paraverse 2018

Grow your own myth or die in the one they gave you. The world is where the broken-hearted gather. Wisdom without love is just belief in nothing and belief is nothing to begin with.

Even denying being is a proof of being. Division in any universe is illusion of course, and those believing otherwise are unbelievable. I'm just a turquoise pen with sky-blue ink—are you nobody too?

May you stay forever apolitical. Let me spare you all psychology, spirituality, and science: death is fear; being is love; self-awareness is the seventh son of a seventh son.

I searched mountains for myself but I'm here. Dearest, imagine self-awareness; Love, myself. One not being self-aware is busy devolving—the school of transcendental luminism underground purple desert air.

So the personal has a shadow, do you think? Any expression other than love is slave to one's conditioning. One is love. Two is transformation. Three is self-awareness. Zero is unknown.

The Gospel of October As It Is

One's material identity is a most mistaken one—but quite believable.  For the mind perceives its own conceptions.  And not the one immaculate conception that's conceiving it.

Consciousness, although conceptual, is not conceivable.  Consciousness is like energy and the mind is like the transformation of this energy—or causation by mistaken identity.

It's as if that consciousness conceives the mind to be a mirror of memory for the absolute intent of omnipresent self-awareness.  But such mind gets lost in memories of itself and so on.

So there's nothing wrong with sentience.  And there's nothing right about belief.  One doesn't throw away the tool just because it's been dazed and misused for so long it’s not true.

Everything in the universe is intending toward that absolute self-awareness for the universe is that self-awareness.  Only in the misuse of a tool rests the real instructions for the tool.

One sees light only in appearances like turning leaves.  Even the sun is only seen in its penultimate forms like a ring of fire and autumn sunsets.  One cannot say that pure awareness is being self-aware although I am.

footnotes

1. an appearance doesn't see that in which it is appearing
2. make no mistake, the mistaken identity of mind is mind
3. the mirror is made from memory reflecting on itself
4. there's nothing wrong with memory but there's nothing right in what's remembered
5. one only learns by doing, that one is being done
6. mind is just the space-time cross-section of the beginningless and endless, boundless and depthless, omnipresent potentiality of self-awareness

The Eye Thru Witch

The instrument of self-awareness is so sensitive, it thinks it is the instrument. They say the universe is contained in a single drop of water;

I say that drop of water must be dropped like a tear. How many movies must I see before I know I'm not this movie?

Look—leaves fall, trees topple, earth disintegrates, the sun goes out, galaxies implode, the universe disproves the big bang theory. I'm that eye.


If the world is my projection, imagination works both ways. Is Sakyamuni holding up a living flower or does Mahakasyapa know there is no death?

It's easier to live in the future than predict it. If every cause is like a unicorn, love is like a goddess or a god or lgbtqx—

to the seductive sparkle and death of materialistic belief, medicinal deconstruction, and the subsequent eternal clarity of self-awareness.

footnotes

the users manual is learn by being done

my only view on movies is that that's a movie; the rest are just reviews

if pure awareness is the nameless, being is the word

put away your childish beliefs about the doings of gods and scientists and be done by love

being imagines self-awareness; thought is quite the tool when used as i am directing

deconstruction of samsara is nirvana of nirvana only

what me eckhart
 

The Ballad of Wu Wei and Kokoro

Although it's true there is no doing, love does undo. And as a poem is the undoing of that infinite potentiality,

consciousness is the empty poet. Yellow leaves are blown away by an early September cold front—inspirational!

The world is the childish thing that love lets go—One Corinthians Thirteen Eleven.

The meeting of the mind and revelation is like the smoke of pen and paper—remember to come up for being!

Ice, forsythia, fireworks, and transformation—thought does you and love undoes me. There is no personal doing.

Imagine My Moon Arjuna

Here across the sea of many craters from your love tonight, I’m looking at the brilliant crescent earth—knowing you are looking at it too.

On the moon, but never of green cheese—one never knows the unknown but one can be the werewolf that one is.

Beneath all rivers and mountains there lies hidden—the third moon of a seventh sun!


On Half Moon Lake when emptiness was empress of the waters once again and storms of form come beckoning like a city school of fools—

the social conditioning of scientific materialism is the old division. Deconstruction is the new math—consciousness only is avant garde!

You can never know the sun, you know. But if I try some times I find I am, the stainless moon—

consciousness only is the unborn mirror in which the absolute godness of pure awareness is spontaneously self-aware.

Imagination 8

And on the seventh day, there's idleness and adoration—float like a river, sting like hail. Wu Wei. Tao Te.

Across the river from here, white pines are attracted to the sun each day but point to the moon every night.

And around here, it's cats and dogs all day. But at night, it's owls and coyotes. Everyone ultimately agrees.

There's nothing to do and nowhere to go. Call it karma or surrender, it really doesn't matter.


I'm not responsible for my past; true love secretly did me. The way I see it, my job was to follow the script.

Maybe I should improvise! Thought is just a tool but affectionate awareness is the hand.

Bring them together as one in silence twice a day. If self-awareness is god, imagination is angelic.

Six days on the road. One night at sea. Dependent clauses. This, that, these, and those—demonstrative only.

footnotes to imagination 8

revolution nine is my absolute reference point. 1/9

i remember living by the mills and one day my friend's oldest brother appears from out of the streaming homeward-bound masses on my street, which i am showing off to my suburban cousin, to show off a recently acquired ted williams baseball card. "fucking jesus with a bat!" 2/9

the ferryman returns me to that three-mile strip of consciousness north of the merrimack

between whole and howl, an e is silent 4/9

no damn space, and no damn time 5/9

all the world's a stage and all the men and women my projections 6/9

embodiment is that between the seventh and the next octave calling 7/9

returning wu wei to i am is like the diamond wing of way 8/9

in the name of the further, enlightening intent, not of the dream. #9 #9 #9 #9 9/9