Friday, February 19, 2016

The Four Enlightenments

So much depends upon a red tug icebreaker cruising through the silvery jigsaw ice in the great slow bend of river. The sun is my mirror. I shall not be me.

Science tells a good story. Not great but good enough for its subjects to believe. Social conditioning is deeper than you’ve been trained to think. The four enlightenments are the key to Catch-22.

1. Surrender. Follow your love. This is doing your best. Absolute intent.

2. Disbelieve. Don't take your self or other beings personally. Pay it no mind.

3. Stay awake. Don't make any new beliefs. Nor form a new religion. I am. Be.

4. Be aware. Be honest and compassionate with your word. Dream lucidly. Embodiment is I am That.

Thursday, February 18, 2016

The Book of Being

In DNA but not of DNA. As long as one identifies with the material, the world is a pestle and the universe the mortar. One can’t trump the truth forever.

Fear is the straw that sucks the space out of you. There’s no building a gentler and kinder world. Its pendulum is always swinging. Seeing through the material is the only subjective objective.

In the late October light of middle February, shadows of bare trees begin to shorten. In the middle of a tidal river, giant ice floes are resting on a sandbar. Transformation is as transformation does.

Morality is where true spirituality too often returns to die. Love is to morality as being is to thought. Don't get me wrong, morality might be a good thing, but love is everything.

As the sun is to a match, the match has its purpose, but try thinking without being. Thinking without being is as good a definition of samsara as one may think but there is no samsara in being.

Wednesday, February 17, 2016

The Program. Of Light.

Young built a helicopter and in so doing came to an understanding of process and evolution. Arthur M. Young. That’s the short story. Science and the laws of nature become a longer one. Purpose: an even longer one. In the end, we come to an understanding with the number seven in creation mythologies. And then there was light. I find it to be a fine western-style visualization technique.

Evolution is a purposive process, with a reflexive shape. The first half is a fall into material determinism. Then there is a turn. And the second half is the return to freedom. Rather than laws, there is this freedom. Rather than statistics, there is individuation. Rather than objects, there is action! Subject becomes object to see ‘itself.’

The seven stages are: Light, Nuclear, Atomic, Molecular, Vegetable, Animal, Dominion. Then Light again! That first stage, Light, is completely free. Since light travels naturally at the speed of light, it’s outside of space and time, and has no mass. Pure intent.

The second stage, Nuclear, loses one element of freedom, and things are Binding. There is substance; there is force. But there is also the fog of probability. Wave? Particle? Karma.

Next, Atomic, loses another element, and Identity is gained. There is center, order, property. Chemicals have moved in. Hydrogen. Oxygen. Iron. Justice.

Then, in the midpoint, the Molecular has zero degrees of freedom; Combination has been attained. There appears to be determinism. Classical physics lived here. Not to mention DNA: the holy book of life appears in its final substage. So much for logic.

A lengthy Young interlude:
“The seventh substage, DNA…requires cells for the completion of its function, and cells belong in the next higher kingdom. It will be found that all seventh substages require the next higher kingdom to function. For example, the flowering plants depend on insects for pollination.

…What would this mean to the dominion kingdom? Since it is already the highest kingdom for the solar universe, we are led by this and other evidence to expect yet higher stages - a super arc which deals in galactic evolution. In other words, the dominion kingdom requires something beyond itself, which may help to explain why all human cultures, with the possible exception of modern man, depend on a belief in higher orders of beings, gods.

This dependence of seventh substages on the next higher stage is one of the most difficult concepts to accept because it suggests that process, at the seventh substage at least, anticipates its own future.

And there’s a great turn in the molecular, in its fourth substage, with functional compounds, the organic chemicals, important to life. And sex hormones. Separation has occurred. Negation.

Then, in the Vegetable, there is Growth, Organization. Reproduction. Negative entropy! Flowers. A rose is a rose is a rose. Affirmation.

Next, in the Animal, there’s Mobility, action, satisfaction, seeming choice. The nervous system makes it appearance. Turn it up! Also, in addition to DNA, now there is the animal soul. The birds in planetary flight and the importance of the queen bees will attest to that. Magic.

And then appears the individual soul, Atman. On that stage of the Monad, the actor we call Human Being, there’s Dominion. And irony, absurdity, detachment: understanding.

And finally there is that Self-awareness which undoes all firsts and finals within this unconditional love. I-I. Light-Light. Atman is Brahman...

is Parabrahman:
“In reality there is only the source, dark in itself, making everything shine. Unperceived, it causes perception. Unfelt, it causes feeling. Unthinkable, it causes thought. Non-being, it gives birth to being. It is the immovable background of motion. Once you are there you are at home everywhere.”
~Nisargadatta Maharaj

Monday, February 15, 2016

Pastoral (with Abbey Road Fantasia)


Begin at the beginning, Beethoven said to Alice nine times.

Corporate movies. Independent films.

The personal is to fear as deconstruction is to loathing.


Stay in love without another.

It is now as it was in the beginning and as it is in the end, the nondoer is intent, not nothing.

The Cosmo in Lowell, Jack looks at the crippled and the handicapped, Neal hits a cop car in front of City Hall.


In the land of division, spontaneity is ground zero.

It's either poetry or the absolute.

A great blue heron is wading across Abbey Road.



(Abbey Road Fantasia translated by Son Rivers)


Because the sky is blue.

Oh that magic feeling nowhere to go.

One sweet dream came true today.


Here comes the sun king.

Cuesto obrigado, tanta mucho, ‘que/cake’ and eat it, ‘carousel/cara sole’ (this thanks, very much, that/cake and eat it, carousel/dearest sun).

Such a dirty old man / you could say she was attractively built.


But I knew what I could not say.

Sleep little darling do not cry and I will sing a lullaby.

You're going to carry that weight a long time.
And in the end the love you take is equal to the love you make.
Her majesty's a pretty nice girl but she changes from day to day.

Abbey Road Fantasia translated by Son Rivers


Because the sky is blue.

Oh that magic feeling nowhere to go.

One sweet dream came true today.


Here comes the sun king.

Cuesto obrigado, tanta mucho, ‘que/cake’ and eat it, ‘carousel/cara sole’
(this thanks, very much, that/cake and eat it, carousel/dearest sun).

Such a dirty old man / you could say she was attractively built.


But I knew what I could not say.

Sleep little darling do not cry and I will sing a lullaby.

You're going to carry that weight a long time.
And in the end the love you take is equal to the love you make.
Her majesty's a pretty nice girl but she changes from day to day.

Pastoral


Begin at the beginning, Beethoven said to Alice nine times.

Corporate movies. Independent films.

The personal is to fear as deconstruction is to loathing.


Stay in love without another.

It is now as it was in the beginning and as it is in the end, the nondoer is intent, not nothing.

The Cosmo in Lowell, Jack looks at the crippled and the handicapped, Neal hits a cop car in front of City Hall.


In the land of division, spontaneity is ground zero.

It's either poetry or the absolute.

A great blue heron is wading across Abbey Road.

Friday, February 12, 2016

Numerological Enlightenment

No one 
hears a world 
falling in the forest.

One 
attends to one
not two.

Two 
always appears 
to be two to two.

Three 
is truly 
the mystery.

Two 
is just 
an illusion.

One
is the one
that is the unknown.

No one
comes to not two
except through the one.

Thursday, February 11, 2016

Fifth Fantasia


What Trickster should I be tonight? Some Puck or Crow or Kappa?

On the slopes of Mount Osore in volcanic waters of an onsen, I bow before the water deity.

Poet, father, mystic, I. These are a few of my favorite words.


Only being knows of lucid dreaming, cabbages, and kings.

Somewhere between cicadas and a Golden Buddha, I meet an ancient Chinese woman on the steps of Yamadera, and she takes a picture of me.

All my life, through all the transformations, significant or otherwise, I'm on the way to Graceland.


Whatever confidential character I dream, it's only proof I am that great unknown.

Ah! Matsushima! Ah! Big Sur! Ah! Nisargadatta! Ah! I am!

On the shores of Lake Chocorua, before the distant peak of Passaconaway, I watch my daughter make-believe while knowing all is love.

The Limits of Deconstruction

The Empire never loses. It just co-opts the new next story. Constantine buys Christianity. Disney buys Star Wars.

A person not busy deconstructing is busy serving the Empire.

Deconstruction is always lovingly impersonal. No material or worldly violence is ever needed.

The greatest error of personal deconstruction is nihilism.

Nothing is the greatest concept. Subtraction is the work of mind. Being is limitless.

(It's as if the mind in deconstructing itself continues madly into negating being, creating this black hole of an ultimate concept.)

The unknown isn't nothing. Being isn't unknown.

Being is true knowledge. Being knowing being is unconditional love. Being knowing the unknown is self-awareness.

In this way it's all about being the unknown.

Wednesday, February 10, 2016

Harbinger, Herald, Courier, and Prophet

Death is a concept. The person is a concept.
So death is a concept about the end of a concept.
Therefore ask yourself today: am I a concept?

One doesn't really die before dying.
One kills the concept one thinks one is.
The emperor has no clothes. I am.

On the other hand, lucid dreaming knows
the clothes one wears and wears them well.
But there are tricksters tricksters everywhere!

Some like Coyote believe in tricks
and so become outsmarted by them.
Raven flies on black wings.

Monday, February 8, 2016

The Basic Secret

Evolution is about the journey from self-centeredness to self-awareness and back again.

Science only tells the surface story.

This game of clue always ends with the rattlesnake in the garden with its so-called tools of knowledge.

Deconstruction is the first sign of the personal apocalypse.

If belief is fundamental to the transformational existence of the world, who am I?

I dream. Therefore I know I am.

And there’s the ancient way of unknowing who I think I am.

The basic secret to nonduality is either way I am.

Believe it or not, nonexistence takes thinking.

Simply being is meditation enough.

And lucent dreaming is being enough.

Deconstruction is always further. Dreaming is always now.

The basic secret to nonduality is either way I am...

Between Baroque and Nonduality

In Xanadu did Kubla Khan. In apricot is doing not.

And absolute intent is only delayed by thought.

Meanwhile surfing a wave is a reoccurring metaphor in all the great works of California.


Wouldn’t it be nice if God only knows—

(translating the sage in saying
following only love
appears as equal measures of pain and pleasure
but really is constantly always
pure bliss)

what’s in a name Wolfgang Amadeus Malibu?


Quicksilver radical in inner-knowing knowing nothing, one is next to godliness, but being is the absolute unknown!

One personal story tells the curious marriage of not-knowing and the magnificent distrust of the known.

Coyote trips between the thin and ever-thinning stretch of beach between the dunes and sea—until Xanadu!


If a sonnet is fourteen lines, an epic is at least double-digits.


Fantasia Number Three


Watching the wind-swept snow, the mind is moving.

In a sudden stillness, snowflakes surface from a barren current.

Then in a change of wind direction, wintry ghosts are swirling in their dervish robes.


This cutting scene is taking place before a triptych picture window.

Inside pictures of New England mountains hang on milky walls.

Meanwhile a forty-one inch television screen is holy with obscure blackness.


There are no mirrors outside. There are no mirrors inside. I am the only mirror.

First, there is a snowstorm. Then there is no storm. Then there is.

But in an Arizona desert, ravens finger blue guitars.

Superstring Quartet

Nothing but a dream 
wrapped in a dream 
inside a dream 

deconstructing personal belief
resting in universal existence
waiting silently—

for the intent of that absolute unknown
awakening harmonics

surrendering to intent
enjoying the flow of absolute intent
being intensity!

Friday, February 5, 2016

The Sage in Snow

Near the final moments of this latest winter storm event, the sky turned rose-colored

is the snow on trees turned rose-colored is the air itself turned rose-colored

and the universe appeared to look at me and I was looking at the universe and rose-colored glasses was our common god.

Then night fell and the trees were ghostlike earthlings visiting an alien environment as if their god had banished them from nature.

But if they keep an open mind, one sees the universe is in my head and every thought is just illusion turning self-aware.

In the morning, everything was not only black and white, but cardinals, blue jays, evergreens!

And so the sun is telling us we’re everything. The snow is telling us we're nothing. Between the two, the songbirds sing.

Wednesday, February 3, 2016

Chuang Tzu Absolutely Loves Freud

The Zhuangzi woodwinds of the earth are practicing tonight.

Whatever sounds appearing in tonight’s Fantasia aren’t in any way my doing.

This, that, these, and those are not demonstratively dissimilar.

The sorcerer’s apprentice is following this low and powerful intent.

This is always that—but that is never this—although if truth be spoken—this is only that because that.


The wind cries holy Mary mother of that absolute unknown and blessed is one among the universe and blessed is the fruit of your imagination!

In the beginning is the butterfly and everything to come is shaped by special effects.

In the name of love the tongue of sky is kissing this holy country of nameless depths,

Martians and werewolves and lovers oh my!

Out of its angelic silence, the wind is whispering in a still great voice—the unknown is, the unknown is, the unknown is—and I am that.


At this age, I have to be told what to write although I only listen to my self.

Orange green and black or white the sky is blue the sun is red in violets growing royal flush i love you—love you—love love love!

If division, love. If one, three. Eastern white pines in a northwest gale.

Four. Love the unbelievable and the universe is yours!

Jesus Mary and Joseph, how many hurricanes and earthquakes or lifelong heartbreaks do i have to say the way is love stop—love death—love stop

Hokusai, Mount Fuji, and I

I just changed the wallpaper on my Zenfone, yes it's called a Zenfone,


to Hokusai's 'Great Wave' where Mount Fuji looks from a distance


with dispassionate and unobstructed views at men in long boats


about to be enveloped by the ivory claws of transformation.


I saw Mount Fuji once myself while traveling the commuter rail


from Tokyo to Narita International. It was on a long and gentle turn


when its iconic shape came into view. It lasted for what seems a minute,


like an enigmatic whisper, like a voice behind a wall inside a dream,


and when the train had found its new assuredly unswerving direction,


I knew beyond that sea of great uncertainty there's never anything but
sky.

Sunday, January 31, 2016

untitled

Float like Mozart. Sting like Zhuangzi. One heart leads to another. Third time is a charm.

Old math. Two hearts are better than one. Full house trumps no mind. Jokers are wild.

Basho
In the library
With haiku

Mojave desert
Without a water bottle—
The traffic center!

After thinking I am is I am; on knowing I am is I-I.

Samsara and Indians

Dylan going electric might be the uber myth for 'my generation.' Belief surrenders to being. Judas!

Action precedes words. I am the way. If you meet Bob on the road, don't kill him. Just don't follow him any further.

To dream or not to dream is not the question. Mozart was yet another crack in the western wall that finally fell in 1968.

The current restoration dates to 1980. Deconstructing versus building: in any dream, it’s no contest.

To dream i am dreaming is like a mirror reflecting a mirror. I am between the mirrors.

Restoration always means death for the latest Indian. The big secret is Indians never die. Self-awareness is a good day to die.