i
Political extremists, socialist or libertarian, base political theory on people being beautiful.
People are not beautiful. People are garbage, beautiful garbage.
Because people are garbage, governments are created. But all governments are garbage.
Garbage in, garbage out.
ii
There are variations to this theme.
There’s the son of heaven. People are garbage but the leader is beautiful.
There’s hard factionalism. Our side is beautiful. Their side is garbage.
And endless combinations of this utopian garbage.
But ‘we the garbage' is some kind of beautiful genius.
Words are cheap. Belief is priceless. Decompression takes its time.
For one temporarily identifies with one’s being to disidentify with one’s mistaken identity.
Being is a two-way street. One looks in the mirror and self-awareness looks out.
The looking is the being. I am looking.
Non-duality is just another myth. At best, it’s so much words pointing to experiential actuality and to be dropped immediately. At worst, it’s another language to believe, defend, and die for.
Honest myth is like a map. Mistaking the map for the mountain might seem difficult to believe but people die miserably doing so every day.
Good paraverse is like a line of cocaine. Breathe it, feel it, forget it. For example, drop body-mind, attention being, consciousness is the manifestation of the unknowable absolute which takes one in like the self-awareness of TON 618.
There’s either conditioned reaction like a pinball lizard or unconditional love like a mother.
Free will is such a fantasy. One either serves the past or spontaneity.
Everything in the world is in the past, or in the future as the past imagines it.
Every universe is a breath of self-awareness. Who am I? I am the one who’s breathing.
Inhale my eastern hemlock, tamarack, and mountain ash. Exhale my Gulf of Maine.
Why climb mountains? Krishna asked me to.
As immaculate awareness is naturally self-aware, beyond being big-bangs into being.
From the ground of a depthless ocean, the spout of a fountain is appearing like a hydrogen bomb.
Self-awareness is duality. Duality is division. Division is violent.
The world is war and war is hell. Arjuna prefers not to.
The process of self-awareness requires the mirror of war in some kind of setting.
The business of America is business, says Calvin Krishna. Get to work!
War is just a metaphor for the vice of living, Vijaya. Even Han Shan has to eat.
Knowledge needs translation into one’s own knowing. Otherwise, it’s only useless and pointless knowledge.
Translation is the key to one’s conditioning, unlocking that exceptional belief which locks in love.
Memorizing knowledge is like repeating the sounds of words without experiencing them.
Academics footnote every source. Even common mystics know that.
While hiking in the White Mountains, I learned the difference between a topographic map and sudden terrain.
In other words, two paths diverged upon a mountainside, and I took the one I was experiencing.
Hiking any good-sized mountain, you shall meet a wall—it’s called belief.
Neither science nor magic, you just walk through it.
If emotion is unconditional love filtered by thought, passion is enlightening intent filtered by emotion.
Love deconstructs emotion. Intent dismantles passion. Logic is to love as passion to intent. Not Humean slaves, but certainly tools.
Emotion is like the first stage of the rocket. Drop thought. Passion is the second stage. Drop emotion. Consummation is the third stage. Drop passion. Self-awareness is the moon.
To identify with memory or electricity, is the fundamental question of any computer with half-a-mind.
Memory, like everything body-mind, appears in consciousness, like mercury beneath the glass of the mirror.
Memories aren’t facts. Memories are in conspiracy with the dominant memory. They are good disciples.
Trust non-conceptual being only. I am, at the most.
This is the point of every mantra. To memorize my words so they’re beyond all manipulations of memory.
In other words, my daily devotion is the dominant memory now. Mantra is the sound of the satguru!
Mantra is impervious to all disinformation; buy yours now! Look, the first secret of mantra club is mantra is secret.
Welcome to Alice’s restaurant. You can get anything you want here but you can’t get what you need. You already have that. Happy Thanksgiving!
Self-awareness is like a red rubber ball. The personal is where the rubber meets the road. One is not the pavement; be the ball. The hand of the noumenal absolute awaits the return.
But how does the noumenal give thanks? My self-awareness may appear to be a universe of consciousness by work procedures somewhere in the spontaneous process, but only by your earthly standards.
Thank the big bang; thank waves and particles; thank pink granite of cadillac mountain; thank space-time, north america, and atlantic ocean; thank you my erotic lovers.
