01 January 2015

Breadcrumbs & Other 2015


Greetings,

These are writings uploaded to the "Breadcrumbs" blog in 2015.  New additions were placed at the bottom of their respective sections:  Leftovers, Soundbites, Possible Titles, Corollaries, Possible Last Words & Epitaphs, or Breadcrumbs.  Some have been used in "The Ponderings of Yaj Ekim" or "The Return to Wonder" blogs, and will not be duplicated in the "Breadcrumbs" blog.  There may also be editing in some of the copy between any here and there.

Enjoy in joy as best ye may.

Ciao, ciao,


M


LEFTOVERS


All groups, all cultures, since the origin of language,
Have used their natural environment to communicate their world.
The sun, the moon, the planets, the stars, the weather, the geographical features,
The myriad fellow creatures from great to small, all play parts in every mythological paradigm.
In these our modern times, we use our own creations to decipher the universe about us.
Technologies, politics, religion, business, media, personalities, ad infinitum.
Every conceivable mind-made, artificial, contrived invention
Has all but usurped the relationship with nature.
The rules of the game are ever the same,
But ignorance leaves us deaf and blind and dumb
To the one and only reality that all creation is eternally interwoven 
At such an indivisible level as to make any part absolutely inseparable from anything else. 
Imagination, and all its fabricated notions, all its dualistic concoctions,
May believe it can control this biosphere, this cosmos,
But it cannot make-believe for long,
Much less forever.

* * * *
The unknown pervades all.
You are the mystery; the mystery is you.
That which is known is but a bubble of imaginary notion,
A dreamtime play of consciousness, nothing more, nothing less, nothing but.

* * * *
From the unassailable inner eye of the one witness,
Prior to consciousness, unmoving, uncommitted, indivisible, all-seeing,
What is there to crave, what is there to consume, really, but sensations of the mind and body,
That ephemerally pass ever-changing from one streaming moment to the next.
Nothing more than smoke drifting through the awareness,
Like clouds moving across in the sky.

* * * *
To live fully in the moment requires that every moment be immediately perceived and released.
Life eternal is an ephemeral quality of mind, a state of unconditional detachment,
In which the you that is the timeless awareness prior to consciousness
Observes without giving weight to the incessant vanities
Of the fictional me-myself-and-I that you imagine your Self to be.

* * * *
True religion is much more than regurgitating some historic dogmatic notion,
That is really no more real and true now than it was in the way-back-when.

* * * *
Duality is a fabrication of consciousness.
In reality, there  can be only oneness:
All-pervading, all-knowing, ever-present.
The all-in-one-one-in-all quantum awareness.

* * * *
The consequences of the many choices we made, or were made for us,
Shape each and every existence, each and every mind, in ways beyond counting.
Causes spin into effects spin into causes spin into effects spin into …
And on and on the finite play of human consciousness
Swirls and whirls and slices and dices,
A paradigm unto its Self.

* * * *
What is any thought, any idea, but the thunder of a lightning strike in the quantum mind,
And a creative or troubled mind, a flashing thunderstorm, one ecstatic, the other agonizing.

* * * *
However any life form great or small may sense it,
It is ever the same quantum matrix playing its magic.

* * * *
See the indivisible,
Hear the indivisible,
Smell the indivisible,
Taste the indivisible,
Feel the indivisible.

* * * *
If this indivisible mystery is indeed formless, boundlessly infinite,
What are all the scientists, mathematicians, linguists,
And other conspirators of the mind to do?

* * * *
What is the difference between pleasure and pain,
Between right and wrong, between good and evil, between love and hate,
But a variety of chemical, electro-magnetic responses,
Some agreeable, some not.

* * * *
Within every detail, a collection of nuances.
And within those nuances, a few nuances more.

* * * *
To be as a child is to return to that indivisible state of pure, eternal awareness,
Prior to the smoke-ridden consciousness to which time requires subscription.

* * * *
All humankind is caught up in one mythological set or another.
They are all very much the same, really.
Tribal formulations that the given group holds in common,
And perchance get along well enough for the genomic coding to survive and pass on.

* * * *
If all is that which is truly godness, then what is good, what is evil,
But an alliance between consciousness and its Self.
And you, the source, the witness,
Just pop in who, what, where, when, why, how, you please.

* * * *
It is the mind that divides; the mind that unites.
What is free will but the choice between duality and unicity,
The choice between what is real, that which is choiceless, and what is not.

* * * *
Perfect detachment is a state of stillness, of pure awareness,
Prior to consciousness and its ceaseless state of consumption.

* * * *
You drink a cup of water from your tap, and then you take a whiz.
The wiz travels through pipes, and washes into the river and down to the sea,
Little land critters and little water thingees drinking at it all along the ever-streaming way,
And in they in turn whiz away, and their whiz joins your whiz down to the sea.
And in the sea, more water critters drink and whiz back into the sea.
And the radiating star high above the sea sears its surface,
And the whiz slowly evaporates up into the air sea.
And the air sea drifts and flows this way and that,
And draws the whizz up into the pinnacles of the air sea,
And the whiz joins other whiz and forms into drops into clouds,
That move back over the land towards the mountains where it sprinkles
And drizzles and rains and pours and hails and snows back to the ground below.
And on the ground it moves to creeks to rivers above and below the ground,
And slowly the whizz moves down from mountainsides to the valley,
And to the well, where it waits to be drawn back into pipes,
And from the tap, poured into cup, for you to drink.
It is an indivisible, an inexplicable journey,
To which you are ethereal witness.

* * * *
The predators, the vampires, the parasites, the scalawags,
Will always find a way to dominate, to control, to thieve, to pillage, to debase,
The prey, the quarry, the victim, the mark, the dupe, the fool.
At the most essential, primal level, Mother Gaia
Ever remains a Darwinesque saga.

* * * *
Explore your world, your universe, to your own satisfaction.
There may be nothing new under the sun,
But it is new to you.

* * * *
Though all that is, is of the totality of the great quantum,
Few are drawn to discern the unborn-undying state.
Many are called, few are chosen, fewer still swallow the red pill.
And why would anyone ever choose to endure this inquiry into the unknown.
The hollowness of ignorance, of believing your universe authentic, is its own form of bliss.
Alas in that way-back-when, that you could not help but notice something askew,
That you could not help but ask that first question, take that first step.
Red pill, blue pill, was there ever really-truly any choice?

* * * *
The rabbit hole be deep and dark and every-which-way coily-roily.
Save your Self the bother, enjoy the bliss of ignorance, take the blue pill.
You will never know what you missed, for, in truth,
There is nothing to know anyway.

* * * *
Never too late to take the red pill, but once you do, there is no going back,
Though you may fall into a hole, or get caught in briars along the winding way.

* * * *
As long as you believe it all real and true,
You will enjoy, you will suffer, the ceaseless passions of existence.
The timeless, ubiquitous, prior-to-consciousness state
Is a tranquil sea abiding neither.

* * * *
Who-what-where-when-why-how is one who enjoys?
Who-what-where-when-why-how is the one who suffers?
Imagination is indifferent to the agonies and ecstasies it inspires
In the ubiquitous quantum sea through which it larks.

* * * *
What you might want from one who sees this,
You must discern within your Self.
It is a timeless journey, an epic lifetime quest,
Which you must make, step-by-step, breath-by-breath, utterly alone.

* * * *
It will likely not be until humankind
Is on the harsh, cutting rocks of its mind-made creation
That it will perhaps, just perhaps, finally discern the unatoneable error of its way.
And even then, how many will call it god’s will and pray for salvation,
Or blame anyone and everyone else but themselves?

* * * *
Suspension of rational thought,
For hope, for belief, for faith, for superstition, for idolatry, for dogma,
How is that even remotely possible?

* * * *
Thought is the stagnancy in which the mind harbors the notion of existence.
Only in awareness is the quantum essence playing at the cutting edge of dreamtime.
Thought is death, awareness, life eternal; the conceptions of consciousness merely vibration,
Waves crashing upon neuron shoals, naught but imagination confabulating sensory perception real.

* * * *
Breathe in … relax … breathe out … relax …
There is nothing to know, there is nothing to do, there is nothing to be.
Give your Self credit for space-time served.
Breathe in … relax …

* * * *
Nobody can ever know what you have gone through, what you have experienced,
What you have perceived, what you have endured, in your trail of agony and ecstasy.
Nor can you more than guess at any other’s version of their world, their universe.
We are all as alone together as ships passing in some nebulous moonlit night,
Only as known as any given insight, any frame of reference, might allow.

* * * *
Where is any god, any deity, but in the innate primal recesses of imagination’s origin,
And its need for there to be some meaning and purpose for this inexplicable existence,
As if the inexplicable existence, the existential fray, is in itself not raison d'être enough.

* * * *
There is a limit to all the finite pretenses of knowledge.
The unknowable must forever remain unknown.
Science, despite all its heady determination,
Can only claw away so much at the quantum mist.

* * * *
What can you know about anything, really,
But the fabrications of mind concocting the sensory play of time,
And what does that signify but arbitrary concoctions,
No matter how well-cloaked in objectivity.

* * * *
All identity, all identification, is nothing more
Than the wind of imagination playing impromptu make-believe.
And when every mind is doing it, it becomes a synergistic collusion we brand humanity.
Nothing more than confabulated delusion from the illusory get-go.

* * * *
How attentively can you listen, and for how long,
To a babbling brook, to a roaring river, to a crashing wave,
They who babble and roar and crash ever eternal.
The no-mind, the mind without mind,
Is a mind full of eternity.

* * * *
The human drama has no solution, no resolution.
It will carry on in its dysfunctional wayward journey
For as long as the genre meanders this world or any other.
So the trick is to endure and enjoy the ride as best as ye are able
In the ever inexplicably mysterious so it goes of it all.

* * * *
A mystery far too incomprehensible, far too enigmatic, far too ambiguous,
To ever more than nibble, scratch, plumb, and ponder.
All any can really do is be it,
As the corollary of dreamtime allows.

* * * *
The rare few who begin to earnestly look within and without, prior and beyond,
At the universe their senses proffer, are those to whom the world less and less matters.
They are the world-weary, they are those who hear the call no words can fathom.

* * * *
doubt |dout| noun,
A feeling of uncertainty or lack of conviction.
You either got it or you don’t.
Blessing or curse,
You decide.

* * * *
Concoctions of sweet, of sour, of salty, of bitter, of umami,
All built of the same quantum mystery, all dancing upon the quantum tongue.
Each of the five sensory organs – eyes, ears, nose, tongue, skin – and the brain to which they link,
Are wormholes to their conditional, their arbitrary, their temporal, rendering of a universe.
You daily travel time, you daily travel space, you daily wander, in the dream of mind.

* * * *
There is truly only this ethereal moment
Which none can never really touch or grasp,
Only perceive through and imagine happened,
Play out whatever assumptions the sensory-mind,
Through its filters of conditioning, perchance gleaned.

* * * *
Regarding the so-called supreme being worshipped by many and known as God:
For being an absentee landlord, and very dubious even at that,
He/she/it sure gets a lot of credit for things
To which only assumption and hope give weight.

* * * *
In order to survive, to abide, to thrive, justifiable or not,
Every vested interest embodies its purpose, its mission, its raison d'être.
In every conceivable way, through every conceivable means,
For as long as capacity and limitation allow.

* * * *
It is unlikely the account, the saga, the legend, the myth,
The self-imagery anyone has playing over and over in their minds,
Would, much less could, ever resemble the one history would carve into stone.
Assuming, of course, that some chronicler would ever even be inspired to scribe anything.
Ultimately, all forms are but anonymous, vaporous ghosts in the mists of time.

* * * *
There are some things for which there can be no proof,
Some things that are not subject to the finite boundaries of mind,
Some things for which any answers are too large or too small for any question.
Some things that must remain forever unknown to the ceaseless conjectures of imagination.
So it goes, deal with it, get over it, move on.

* * * *
Some call it this, some call it that.
Words, words, words; sounds given conceptual overlays.
The nothingness given meaning, given purpose; identity it neither needs nor requires.
The busy-busy cacophony of the human mind’s unceasing obsession
With re-hashing everything in its own muddle.

* * * *
Only in the stillness of eternal life,
Of the awareness prior to all things imagined,
Is there freedom from the myriad vanities of consciousness.

* * * *
Is the atheist any less determined not to believe, than the believer is to believe?
So much assertion, so much struggle, so much dwelling on so many this’s and that’s,
For nothing more than vain notion, hollow whimsy, over that which can never be known.

* * * *
The linear mind is no match for the ever-accelerating,
Ever-morphing exponential of these our modern times.

* * * *
Challenging, indeed, for the mind to just be, given its conditioning,
And the life force at whose helm it navigate the shoals of existence.

* * * *
Of the crimes committed,
A don’t-ask-don’t-tell policy is advised.
The secret no one knows is the secret no one tells.

* * * *
Here you are now ...
Here you are now ...
Here you are now ...
Here you are now ...
Here you are ...

* * * *
The awareness is a formless sea behind the eyes.
The senses inspire consciousness to imagine a vast universe,
But it is no more than a brief dream to which mind every moment yields.

* * * *
Playing a little part in a little play is but a little smidgeon of imagination
Given over to vain notion based on a nature-nurture fiction of quantum design.

* * * 
Are you something that is something, something that is nothing,
Nothing that is something, nothing that is nothing.
Or all of the above in a sea of relativity.

* * * *
Walk through it as you would a dream, detached observer, ethereal witness.
Inscrutable, enigmatic, unfathomable, mysterious, impenetrable, unreadable, unknowable,
Indecipherable, inexplicable, incomprehensible, sphinxlike,
Yet transparent all the while.

* * * *
What a hungry thing the mind is, consciousness is, the indivisible essence is.
What is all experience but the insatiable consuming itself every moment.

* * * *
Each of us with our own unique universe, each of us with our own unique world view,
Each of us with our own unique set, our own unique frame of reference that we all deem normal,
Each of us perceiving through the untold filters of our time-bound nature-nurture matrix,
Each of us forever here now, forever absolute, forever indivisible, forever alone.

* * * *
The stillness of awareness
Witnesses the clouds of consciousness come and go.
You only think you are the wind.

* * * *
Where do you think your wit comes from if not the ever-present, indivisible, quantum essence?
Of course there is intelligent design at the helm of this inexplicable mystery.
And of course it is indivisibly you, and you indivisibly it.
There is nothing to get all vain about,
Because everyone and everything else is, too.
All notion of duality is but delusion of the sensory mind.

* * * *
You are it, have been all along,
And will be in every future-past hence,
In the forever-after-genre-milieu whatever.

* * * *
The universe is a pulsating-vibrating-kaleidoscoping-hologram-matrix-quantum theater
In which you are witness within and without the within and without
That is not, was not, and will never be.

* * * *
Dirtier water, dirtier air, dirtier ground.
Less food, less space, less accord.
The dystopian now unfurls.

* * * *
Desire, fear, the myriad passions of the monkey-mind in general,
Are nothing more than predicable habits, patterns born of nature-nurture,
Of genetics and the incessant winds of time playing out the vanities of consciousness.

* * * *
None of it is real, none of it was ever real, none of it will ever be real.
None of it ever more than a kaleidoscoping dream of stardust,
The quantum essence come unto the pretense of life.

* * * *
Awareness is the eternal purity, the eternal clarity, of all dreamtimes.
The silky smooth elixir, the cosmic brew of those rare few
Called to discern, to witness, the only reality.
Source to all, source to none.

* * * *
You are screwed anyway; the Reaper always hovering naught a breath away.
May as well enjoy your Self, die in the saddle, in so-to-speak cowboy parlance.

* * * *
A garden world chock-full of two-leggeds,
Many believing they are the pinnacles of normal,
All judging their naughty-nice translation from on high.
Who can ever measure up for long, if at all?


* * * *
Human consciousness is really nothing more than imagination
Playing an eternal game of hide and seek with its imaginary self.

* * * *
What difference between the current in waves crashing,
And the heartbeat simultaneously pulsing in your veins?

* * * *
We are all caught, we are all bound, in the truths and lies,
The paradoxes and ironies, the agonies and ecstasies,
The joys and sorrows, the glories and absurdities,
All built by space, all built by time, in the maze of mind.

* * * *
What universe does a bat perceive?
A tiger? A dolphin? A bird? A cockroach? A tree? A flower?
Surely,  you are not so self-absorbed as to believe it is ever, can ever, be the same as yours?

* * * *
All your busy-ness convinces you that you exist, that you are truly living,
But are you really any more than yet another persona
Destined to be quickly forgotten
In the human paradigm’s fleeting dreamtime.

* * * *
Where is the demarcation between the awareness within
And the universe without, but a wall built of imagination.

* * * *
Black and white are but fringes of consciousness,
With everything between every shade of gray.

* * * *
There are those rare who dwell in the momentary awareness,
Those who dwell in discernment, those who dwell in the eternal mind,
Insight is its own law, neither bowing to authority, nor subscribing to dogma.

* * * *
How many waves did you hear, how many birds did you see,
On that distracted-lost-in-thought wander along the shoreline?
Give attention to your life; it will be gone before you know it.

* * * *
Exploring existence, exploring reality,
Why would anyone in their right mind
Give themselves over to such absurdity?

* * * *
No new technology can more than offer brief respite, brief reprieve,
From the consequences of its accelerating exponential.
Fingers can only plug any dike for so long
Against the indivisible vibrancy of eternal nature.

* * * *
Every mind a solitary journey, a mortal epic in the dream of time.
The challenge is getting past the enticing lure of loneliness,
And clearly discerning the unfathomable aloneness.

* * * *
The digitalization of the human paradigm
Will likely prove a huge black hole for chroniclers
After technology’s inevitable,  likely not too distant collapse.

* * * *
Discard all the overlays of your conditioning:
You are the quietude of the sovereign mystery.

* * * *
Mind and body, and the world, the universe, they create,
Are a laboratory in which we are all observers
Exploring whatever we imagine.

* * * *
Pay attention, so many often exclaim,
But to what are you meant to pay attention?
Whatever draws it, grasshopper, whatever draws it,
And perhaps, if discernment’s edge razor-sharpens enough,
The draw may at some point be to the awareness, the source its Self.

* * * *
The senses invoke the make-believe of time, but without them where would you be?
What happens to a mind evolved in time when locked completely alone in a dark, still chamber?
Who can long abide sensory deprivation without tumbling into unutterable madness?

* * * *
If you hope to withstand the harsh winds of the world,
Cherish and nurture and share the given innocence.
It is always there if you will the time to discern it.

* * * *
Everything of consequence bell-curving in an ever-accelerating up-and-up exponential.
How far toward the indifferent sun will the human paradigm soar
Before wings melt, and x’s and y’s stall and fall?

* * * *
Any child only knows what they are told,
And if they are told a lie, then that lie becomes the truth,
And will remain so until they perchance develop the wit, the vision, the insight,
To distinguish beyond their origin, beyond the origin of all things,
And perchance someday even set themselves free.
It is, indeed, a long, long row to hoe,
With no guarantees of any yield, whatsoever.

* * * *
Be the formless, be the awareness, be the nothingness,
Be the you that is really not, has never been, will never be.

* * * *
Without fanfare, without assertion, without warning,
Mother Nature is judge and jury and enforcer and executioner,
For all who are not mindful, for all who do not heed, her unwritten laws.
Ignore the indelible, ignore the way, and suffer the consequences.

* * * *
Lives ripple through all the lives they meet: friend, acquaintance, foe ...
And through all the lives they meet: friend, acquaintance, foe ...
And through all the lives they meet … And through …
For as long as memory holds fast against the tides of eternity.

* * * *
Do not for even a second believe your ancestors, even way, way back when,
Were any less intelligent just because their tool-making and other abilities
Had not achieved the ever-expanding bubble of these-our-modern-times.
That is a step-by-step evolutionary process, as is any creative enterprise.

* * * *
Those who frolic mindfully in the waves, the currents, of space and time,
Know to dive into them, or give way to their trajectory;
Never to stand proudly against them.
To bend, to lean, to bow, to give way, without breaking,
Is the sovereignty any blade of grass, ebbing, flowing, knows without knowing.

* * * *
Awareness is both the least and greatest common denominator.
The underpinning of consciousness, of all things known and unknown.
The quantum indivisibility through which duality cavorts the mortal ground.

* * * *
Good and evil are the concoctions of consciousness,
Of imagination, of the mind born of time.
The garden itself is blameless.

* * * *
The matrix universe, an unfathomable quantum sea, swirls on and on and on, 
Oblivious to cause and effect, to consequence, to destiny,
To any and all notions born of mind.
Time and space are but figments of imagination,
Inspired by the senses in the processor to which they are wired.

* * * *
Whether or not there is some all-mighty deity observing your every move
Is about as significant as you watching an erratic ant.
Of passing interest, at best.

* * * *
What would it be like to never see another human being ever again?
To have no voice filtering through your mind but your own?
How long could you abide the solitude, the aloneness?

* * * *
That you existed even a moment ago, or will even a moment hence,
Is nothing more than imaginary, illusory, delusional, notion.
This moment, this here now, is the one and only reality,
And no thought can infiltrate its timeless nature.
All consciousness can do, can pretend to do,
Is play out its make-believe, its dream of time,
In whatever way the patternings, the memes allow.

* * * *
The awareness you really are is but eternal witness
Bound in one form or another, trapped in one patterning or another,
For as long as there is a manifest theater, a matrix, for dreams of consciousness to wander.
The inexplicable universe is but a quantum playground in which you will act out
Whatever agonies and ecstasies the given patterning allocates.
There is no escape; you are a captive of time.
Enjoy or suffer; attitude is all.

* * * *
Only the limitations of the senses persuade you, convince you,
Condition you, mesmerize you, hypnotize you, blind you,
Into believing you are at all separate from anything.

* * * *
The other is but an apparition in your mind, an imaginary presence that does not really exist,
But is always upon your shoulder: watching, advocating, imposing, judging,
Your every thought, your every action, your every everything.
To discern there truly is no other, that you are in reality all alone,
Is an insight few have the wit, the strength, the audacity, to ascertain.

* * * *
I do not need you,
And you likely do not need me,
And why would there be a problem with that?

* * * *
Understand the union, the merging, the yoga,
Is not about the mind-body about which you are so vain,
But the you that is the eternal awareness in the all and nothing of it. 
The inexplicable cannot be made any more explicable.

* * * *
The quantum essence is formless, shapeless, indefinable.
Forms are the inexplicable weavings of patterns.
To warrant them the inexplicable creations
Of some even more inexplicable deity
Must surely include the most inexplicable you.

* * * *
The point of symbols, icons, totems,
Is to determine they are in you, they are you,
For you are the many-faced god, the quantum undying.

* * * *
How fiercely many a mind does slash and tear and scratch and gnaw its imaginary self.
Conquering the universe, building great empires, saving any and all,
Are much simpler than calming the inner beast.

* * * *
Natural selection is what got the world to this point,
But it is unnatural selection that is taking it to a level
Only conceit and greed and ignorance can confabulate.
What will bloom in Eden after our fall is anyone’s guess.

* * * *
What is the stock market, what is globalization, what is this massive consumerocracy, 
But so many people whipping each other and themselves
Without even realizing it.
We are all slaves of one caste or another.

* * * *
Excess is always debilitating in any given long run.
Austerity breeds a hunger for the upside of any bell curve,
While overabundance inevitably sets in motion the road to decline.
Discipline, gumption, grit, individually, collectively,
Are the gauges of any rise and fall.

* * * *
Sacks of shit and piss and bones and goo,
Yup, that is all we are in our inflated game, our vain diversion,
Just the electromagnetic spectrum daily playing out its impromptu theater real and true.

* * * *
Break down existence into its many parts,
And what is it you have not seen and done
More than enough many times too many?

* * * *
Is it free will to play out the only part you could have played?
It all seemed so unknowable, so unpredictable, so challenging, at the time,
But have you ever really been anything more than genomic coding,
Awareness witnessing the mortal program it was bestowed?

* * * *
The fruit of the garden is really nothing more
Than imagination unleashed upon its own creation.
Not banishment as much as self-imposed exile.

* * * *
We are all bits and pieces of our lives in our minds.
No one else can know all that it took for you to reach this here, this now.
Existence is for each and every one, no matter how great, no matter how small, an epic journey.

* * * *
What is evolution but the unknowable,
The creation, the preservation, the destruction,
The selecting, the pruning, the thinning, the harvesting,
The ever-changing nature of matter and motion, energy and force,
In the dance, the play, the lila, of eternal space and time.
An indivisible, boundless, quantum billiard table,
With neither beginning nor end nor middle,
Witnessed each and every moment,
In every imaginable way,
By the awareness you truly are.

* * * *
All the words in the world have never even once saved anyone.
All are doomed from the get-go in this terrible-swift mortal fray.

* * * *
We are molecular beings inhabiting a molecular universe.
The drug-induced possibilities offered by Eden are many and varied.
How they came to be is ever a question without answer,
Other than to say, “Yay, Team Quantum.”

* * * *
Paying attention, being somewhat cautious is not paranoia; paranoia is caution unsprung.
The world is still a jungle, whether it be lions and tigers and bears,
Or Honda’s and Chevy’s and Ford’s.
No need to hide in a closet; just pay attention when wandering about.

* * * *
Release the world in your mind,
And where are you, when are you,
But the only now that has ever been.

* * * *
The world is changed. You can feel it in the water.
You can feel it in the earth. You can smell it in the air.
Much that once was is lost, for none now live who remember it.
All bell curves collapse, and where will you and yours be when the dominos really begin falling?
If you have not already begun taking steps, it is time to think hard, prepare strong,
For a when-shit-hits-the-fan rough road in the times rapidly unfolding.
Batten down the hatches, lock and load, watch and wait.
Hope for the best, prepare for the worst.
May sound trite, but it be true.

* * * *
Challenging to let go of vanity when the mind-body duality so inspires it
With the countless delusions that desire and fear fuel in this dream of time.

* * * *
The writings of any seers should be called just that: writings, notes, works, books.
Not scriptures, because the definition often implies some sort of authority,
And in when it comes to the unknowable, there is no such thing.
All are inquiring into the same mystery to which all have equal access.
And for anyone to claim any expertise, or some greater connection, is absurd.

* * * *
Judgment is the attribute of a mind making every effort to maintain its universe supreme.
Be and allow, unwritten companion to the Golden Rule, is only grasped
By those who discern the invisibility of the relativity.

* * * *
Imagine existing in this world when it was perfectly untamed,
And you with neither claw nor fang, only mind and opposable thumb,
And an abiding, pitiless will to survive, and perchance thrive.
You are a direct descendant, the genomic outcome,
Of those who somehow persevered
From the puddle of origin to this here now.

* * * *
No one is even near as notable or essential
As so many spend their lives vainly believing.
The countless delusions of the human paradigm
Must certainly be the laughingstock of the universe,
Assuming, of course, that the universe is even watching.

* * * *
Breathe in you.
Breathe out you.

* * * *
It was perhaps when our kind began to communicate,
When we discerned that we all perceive our worlds differently,
That we began to harbor resentments and merge together as mindsets,
And in doing so, truly set in motion the dystopian endgame
In which we the descendants now find ourselves.

* * * *
To just completely, absolutely be,
At such a level as to neither assume nor judge,
Is a yogic feat of the highest order.

* * * *
The potential of concept is that the essence of many things can be clearly discerned
Without ever having to experience them in the first person
Once the frame of reference
Has the depth and breadth of an abundant life.

* * * *
The mortal coil comes into being, grows bright, dims, and expires,
Ever the same quantum essence witnessing its inexplicable nature.

* * * *
There is only one quantum dimension, one quantum matrix, one quantum soul.
Neither within nor without, neither known nor unknown,
Neither here nor there, you are.

* * * *
No pattern abides forever; any given seed blossom but once.
But that of which all patterns are made … that indivisible quantum essence …
That which creates … preserves … destroys … that is immortal …  that is godness … that is you.

* * * *
What will endure, what will emerge, what will reign,
After mammalian life can no longer survive this spinning garden orb
That humankind has through the twists and turns of consciousness forever desecrated?
What great kingdom would you not readily yield for a time machine
To witness Eden play out it magical mystery.

* * * *
That destiny, that fate, that kismet, that karma, you vainly believe you somehow just changed,
Well, friend, understand that destiny is really nothing more than the result,
The synergy of all the choices, of all the consequences,
That rippled in thought and deed.
Nothing uncanny or supernatural about it.

* * * *
Curiosity is one of those things that generally lessens over time.
It is the tool of the young in the sponge-time of  their lives,
The time when they are exploring, finding their way.
To daily view the universe with fresh eyes is a rare feat.

* * * *
The nothing and everything from which all creation does and does not emanate.
The ethereal nada’s kaleidoscoping lightshow playing out its ever-present enigma.

* * * *
The nothing special.
The nothing, special.

* * * *
To give attention to the ephemeral eternal moment
Is a busy-busy, measuring-measuring mind’s most arduous task.
The imaginary past and its countless projected futures stoke far too much passion
For the quietude of eternity to be allotted its true autonomy.

* * * *
How many ways are there to die?
A list that technology daily expands.

* * * *
Awareness has no ego, no attributes, no boundaries, whatsoever.
The imagination of consciousness, in all its dualistic notions,
Is sole source, soul proprietor, to that whimsical state.

* * * *
You know …  you know not … 
You know …  you know not … 
You know …  you know not … 
You know …  you know not … 

* * * *
How many lives, how many dreamtimes, is anyone, whether for good or ill, yay or nay,
Of any real consequence to, is a question to which no one can have answer.
Consciousness ripples, but how far, how strong, how long,
Who can even more than begin to guess?

* * * *
All combined, the many-faced other has thought everything of you,
And you, in many times, have thought everything of them.
And what matter, really, once it is discerned
That you are every other, and every other is you.
The many differences are but the theater of dreamtime.

* * * *
What if the Messiah that comes down from on-high to save you
Is not even close to what you truly believed s/he would-could-should be?
What will you do then, Faithful Pilgrim?  Keep waiting, keep praying, keep hoping?
Or perchance awaken to the reality is that any saving is in the realization of what you truly are.
Yes, you are immortal, once you discern the paradoxes and ironies
Within and without all things manifest,
And that heavens and hells are only states of mind.

* * * *
What is existence but oblivion wandering consciousness,
And non-existence, oblivion non-wandering unconsciousness.
The mystery’s definitive on/off state, the byte of life, so to speak.

* * * *
To the indivisibility, a gazillion gazillion universes
Simultaneously transpire in one gazillionth gazillionth of an instant.
You are that, I am that, we are all that, no matter the attributes,  no matter the contrasts, 
Imagined by consciousness in any space, in any time, in any dimension.

* * * *
The fate of those without great doubt is to wander in the miasma of time.
The only thing that can save any from such a temporal destiny
Is if they possess the eyes that see, the ears that hear,
The many clues, the many tips, the many hints,
That surround each and every one in their daily wander.
It is a many-are-called-few-are-chosen-fewer-still-volunteer endeavor.

* * * *
Can you exist in the moment, totally here now, without any sense of self-imagery,
Any thought of the personal idolatry, in which a lifetime of conditioning
Has brainwashed you to be in a constant state of ever-becoming.
A Gordian Knot to which there is only one blade-of-discernment solution.

* * * *
The bubble of consciousness in which the awareness you are resides,
Is nothing more than an imaginary invention, the convoluted consequence,
Of insatiable desire and its every moment tango with the abiding fear of not being.

* * * *
Everyone has their own version of this hellish heaven.
It is random, subjective, arbitrary, and capricious from the get-go,
And the price of admission is a payable-on-demand exit
Back to that from whence all things come.

* * * *
There is nothing right about not knowing, there is nothing wrong about not knowing.
It is the reality that the mind, in all its differentiations, has difficulty acknowledging.

* * * *
One must somehow realize a certain sense of irony and paradox,
A certain shade of doubt, of disbelief, of qualm, to see at all clearly.

* * * *
The streaming dreaming of consciousness sometimes enjoys, sometimes endures,
Its ceaseless jabbering, its mesmerized affirmation of all things manifest.
A quantum universe playing real in the rainbow of imagination.

* * * *
There are consequences to everything you do, to everything everyone does,
Sometimes good, sometimes not, sometimes very much not,
And your life, and the lives of everyone else,
As well as every other creature from small to great,
Is all about surfing the ripples in whatever relativity they abide.

* * * *
All sorts of things you do not know,
All sorts of things you have not experienced,
And does it when-all-is-said-and-done matter, really?

* * * *
You cannot do what you cannot do,
And you likely have difficulty not doing what you can.
You are your capacities, you are your limitations, in this relatively brief dream of time.
Do not hesitate to investigate all things as thoroughly as inclination allows.
What greater regret can there be, than a stone left unturned?

* * * *
What is the raison d'être of a puzzle, a riddle, a brainteaser, a koan,
But to sharpen the wit for whatever adventures may come.
It is the playing ground, the training ground, the doubting ground, 
Of the critical thinker, the pessimist, the skeptic, the cynic, the seeker of truth.

* * * *
From nothing to something, from something to nothing,
All things emerging, all things disappearing, all things forming, all things dissolving.
The ocean, the source, ever tranquil, ever indivisible, ever absolute,
The many patterns nothing more than appearances,
Winds blowing, currents flowing.
All attributes nothing more than vibrating elements,
The primal chaos creating-preserving-destroying, the synchronicity of eternity.

* * * *
The many sorrows of the world
May be less about needing fewer heroes,
Than it is about needing more intelligent plebeians.

* * * *
Very obvious, very clear, very true, to the relatively few.
And to the many others: blindness, miasma, illusion, delusion.
Many may be called, but few are chosen, and fewer still volunteer.

* * * *
What your mind-tongue craves and what your body needs
Are likely way too often very, very different things.
Be mindful, your future health hinges on it.

* * * *
There have been billions of dreamtimes in the evolving monkey-mind,
As have there been in every genomic line across every time,
In this Gaia-induced musing of the quantum kind.

* * * *
Vanity is nothing more than the mind’s attachment to the senses,
And the thoughts they conspire of the body in which they stream.

* * * *
The Lost Tribes: Is it really just about some ancient desert peoples forced into exile?
Or could it be about the unique few whose inexplicable destiny it is
To someday awaken to what they actually are?
A Tribeless Tribe, so to speak.
As with anything, as with everything, it is what you make it.
What is any history but a means to bolster the given cultural mindset.

* * * *
The insights, the revelations, of eternity are for any
With the wit, the calling, to discern its timeless truth.

* * * *
What desire, what fear, what confabulation of mind,
Can ever touch that which is untouchable by naught but imagination,
And then … and then … and then … only in imagination’s whirling mind-bound reel.

* * * *
Pure observation without measurement, pure awareness without movement,
Without ripple, without wake, without time, without space,
Is not that the highest form of science?
Is not that the way to discern the reality of the eternal
Within and without the within and without that has never really existed?

* * * *
Believing you know is but a false security to which most minds cling.
To a be as a child, alone and free; to be this instant, unborn and undying;
Is to be the mind realigned with the eternal moment and its inherent insecurity.

* * * *
The challenge is to get back to the timeless garden, the eternal Eden,
Of which no other animal on this spinning orb has ever lost vision.

* * * *
The religious mind lumps the great unknowable into a concept called God,
And then dreads and worships and dogmatizes the idolatry that comes to mind.
What is the point of mind gorp based entirely on arbitrary, dualistic imagination?

* * * *
Why would a dog ever need to conceptualize it was a dog?
Or a whale it was a whale? Or an ant it was an ant?  Or a tree it was a tree?
All creatures, all life forms great to small simply play out their given nature as the moment calls.
Only we hapless two-leggeds are lost in a time-bound sea of self-imagery,
And the agony and ecstasy it endlessly weaves.

* * * *
How did the mind and senses evolve from that puddle of origin
But through an incredibly laborious, haphazard selection process,
In which countless unknowable universes were created and destroyed
Before humankind’s little window of space-time spawned into being.

* * * *
What is ego but the fear, the dread, the post-traumatic stress disorder,
The self protective veneer, the fortress keep in our imaginary fiefdom,

* * * *
Why is any groupthink, any mindset, any meme, so earnestly asserted,
But to sustain, to multiply, its corporate nature in the weavings of mind.

* * * *
What is this deity so many fear and worship and call God by one name or another?
Is it a he, a she, an it, a not-it?  Is it everything, anything, nothing?
Is it any more or less a figment of imagination
Than you or anyone else?

* * * *
Do not fool yourself that it was anything but vanity
That brought Jesus to Jerusalem and cast him into history.
Whether innocent or calculated, his demise was as predicable as any
Who brashly, foolishly, fly in the face of the powers that be.
Might has always made right, and it always will.
To accept it as some deity’s intention
Is a mortal game of thrones
To which no one ever need subscribe
If they have the wit and courage to stand alone.

* * * *
The only difference between any you and me is a different set of eyes,
Wired into a  different central processing unit,  programed with a different frame of reference,
Wandering different matrices born of imagination: all alone, together.
We call it life, existence, but what is it, really?

* * * *
The world is changing, so quickly changing, into something
Not nearly as attractive as it once-upon-a-time was.
So it goes, deal with it, get over it, move on.
Consume anything, everything, squander the inheritance.
The future is not your problem; screw your kids, and their grandkids, too.
Live high, live large, play out this Ponzi scheme to your narcissistic, hedonistic heart's content.

* * * *
Consciousness weaves into concept
An exalted perfection that can never be.
The horse that is but an imaginary conjuring,
Is a horse that never was, a horse that will never be. 

* * * *
What is natural selection?
An evolution of sexual discrimination?
The attraction of likes?  The loathing of dislikes?
Of intellect?  Of whim?  Of spontaneity?  Of happenstance?
Of brawn?  Of beauty?  Of claw and fang?  Of stone?  Of wood?  Of steel?
Of alliance?  Of intrigue?  Of deception?  Of tyranny?
Of irony?  Of paradox?  Of absurdity?
All of the above, and more.

* * * *
We two-leggeds embrace a good story.
Weave a mundane shopping list into a tale,
And it risks becoming a coast-to-coast best seller.

* * * *
Always examine, always question, anything and everything closely for your Self.
To blindly accept another’s outlook as truth without a critical eye,
Is a dark and wayward road down which the mob
Has traveled times beyond counting.

* * * *
You are but another life form, another creature, another universe,
Ultimately as anonymous as any other Mother Gaia has ever created.

* * * *
You seriously believe any supreme being
Wouldn’t be bored to tears with human absurdity by now?
Likely less the absentee landlord than the gone-fishing project manager.

* * * *
How much time have you dwelled on all the inanities of the human drama?
What do you need to prove, what can you prove, to any other anymore, really?

* * * *
What to do when the world and all its vanities no longer moves you,
When thought subsides and the mind is content to reside in awareness.

* * * *
What was the face of God before you were born, what will it be after you die,
But the same faceless, still awareness it has always been
In every timeless here now
Since long before the advent of stardust.

* * * *
Whatever bearing you take on this inexplicable mystery,
Whether the all-knowing many-faced version,
Or that all knowledge is fabricated,
Where are you left with the vision offered?

* * * *
The cause becomes the effect becomes the cause becomes the effect becomes …
In the streamlessness-causelessness-effectlessness of it all.

* * * *
It is less about what any other thinks about you,
Than it is what you think they think about you.

* * * *
Once you own any thought, any concept, any impression, 
Once any perception is added to the dynamic of your frame of reference,
The insights it reveals, mix-and-match new-and-unique,
Double-double-toil-and-trouble meld,
Into the witch’s brew of your paradigm stew.

* * * *
This one and only timeless moment,
Are you giving it your full attention?

* * * *
You can think about this grand mystery in whatever way you wish,
Or not at all, for all that it matters.

* * * *
None are islands in this finite, temporal, mortal dream of time.
Only in eternal awareness are all worlds, all universes, undone.

* * * *
Awareness is the only god,
The only dogma, the only shrine, the only idol, the only symbol,
The only truth anyone really needs.

* * * *
What is any story but the chaff surrounding a message, a moral,
The fruit that draws a creature to consume the kernel and convey it to new ground,
The means to draw a reader, a listener, to a conclusion, to an insight,
That may flourish, and perchance ripple further still.

* * * *
You are here now because your genetic line,
Since existence kicked off in the swampy puddle of origin,
Somehow survived, somehow thrived, at least long enough to procreate.
The consecration of patterned happenstance; nothing more, nothing less, nothing but.

* * * *
Windows of agreeable health and vibrant energy are but fleeting reprieves
From the calamitous endgame that is as sure and true as sure and true can be.

* * * *
Pain is best met with a certain amount of detachment
If it is to be endured without morphing into the suffering
The human mind so effortlessly, so readily, entertains.

* * * *
You cannot force someone to like you, to give of themselves willingly.
That is a resonation inspired by an inexplicable dynamic,
A mix of commonalities of mind, body, spirit,
That even include vibrations at a molecular level.

* * * *
What is any word but a stagnant thing
Without the dynamic of the eternal moment
Beneath the wave upon which it surfs.

* * * *
What does any patterning great or small do
But waft through its tiny slice of matrix
For as long as its shelf life pertains.

* * * *
How much time can any creator afford to allow themselves
To peruse anything that distracts them from their calling?

* * * *
Words, numbers, notes, and other symbols are all equally unable
To do more than describe, point out, the mystery that they serve.

* * * *
All these inventions we tool-makers have conceived and manifested into the day-to-day,
And many if not most feverishly straining to keep up with the beast it has wrought,
Often competing with the myriad creations as if we ourselves were machines,
But really only ending up more and more inane, more and more insane.
What are we and this dream world but victims of our own insatiable vanity.

* * * *
Some get born into pondering such as these, some are found and hijacked into them,
But most of those who investigate the indelible unknown of their own accord
Must discover the way with their own blend of doubt and gumption,
And the many serendipities of the given Yellow Brick Road.

* * * *
An itsy-bitsy bit of nothingness becomes and itsy-bitsy quantum
Becomes an itsy-bitsy molecule becomes an itsy-bitsy form become an itsy-bitsy life form
Becomes an itsy-bitsy fabrication of imagination, of comprehension,
That one day fathoms the nothingness,
The awareness, it is, has ever been, will ever be.

* * * *
It is perchance time for those rare few who are truly done with the world, truly complete,
Those rare few who are content to artlessly be the most essential timeless state,
To let go of mind, to return to that which is prior to consciousness,
To that awareness which is Eden’s greatest potential.

* * * *
Everything is absolutely simultaneous in the indelible indivisibility of the totality,
But you, you must eyes-wide-open wander down the unfolding trail,
Oblivious to whatever is around each and every bend.
Free will looking forward, fate looking back.
The agonies, the ecstasies, the tragedies, the comedies,
That you play out upon your Self, are unending and beyond all pales.

* * * *
What will this world, this universe, this unfathomable creation, be like in one year?
One hundred years?  One thousand years?  One million years?  One billion years?
One trillion years?  One quadrillion?  One quintillion years?  One gazillion years?
As if a year, a single trip around our puny star, really happened in the first place.

* * * *
Nature is process, an artistic force each and every moment creating,
Absolutely indifferent to beginnings, to endings, to goals, to outcomes.

* * * *
What is this mystery but pure awareness, pure intelligence,
Playing out every potential, every possibility it aspires to manifest,
To dream in whatever dimension its infinite dynamic ordains.

* * * *
It is not about belief, it not about idolatry, it is not about groupthink, it not about dogma,
It is not about tradition, it is not about rituals, it is not about symbols,
It is not about becoming anything or anyone.
It is simply about being
What you are, have ever been, will ever be.

* * * *
Desire and fear have been dynamic, intertwined forces in the human spectacle.
What is it to be without desire,  without fear, and is the mind even capable of it?
Needs research; every scientist his/her own experiment, his/her own laboratory.

* * * *
You are herein introduced to your Self.
From your Self to your Self, so to speak.

* * * *
To what are you ultimately attached but the conditioning
Of a mind each and every moment consuming, translating, a sensory feed,
Through the filters of a time-bound frame of reference inspired by the given nature-nurture.

* * * *
Lamenting any loss, any change, what point, really,
When nothing even for a moment stays the same.
In the hologram matrix of this grand mystery.

* * * *
You are not the you that identifies with this corporal body
Or this life or this world or this universe or any fragment of the great unknown.
You are the indivisible oneness, and that ethereal quantum state
Is enough for any earnest seeker turned seer.

* * * *
The witness, the awareness, the youness, indivisibly permeates all consciousness.
The other, the otherness, is ultimately naught but a fabrication,
Naught but an imaginary, dualistic notion
Of quantum design.

* * * *
Where will believing the best or worst of others take you?
Into what adventures, what rabbit holes, will you tumble?

* * * *
The fixation, the obsession, the mania, the passion, of any given delusion,
Requires a steadfast detachment that relatively few can willingly muster.

* * * *
You need not accept anything that is not legitimate or meaningful
Just because some hypnotized meme-ish alliance espouses it,
Or because some renowned name or title is attached to it,
Or because it is a product of the fermentation of time.
If something does not stand on its own inviolable merit,
There need not be any wavering about putting it behind you.

* * * *
philosophy |fəˈläsəfē|
noun (pl. philosophies)

the study of the fundamental nature of knowledge, reality, and existence,
especially when considered as an academic discipline.
See also natural philosophy.

• a particular system of philosophical thought: Schopenhauer’s philosophy.
• the study of the theoretical basis of a particular branch of knowledge or experience:
the philosophy of science.
• a theory or attitude held by a person or organization that acts as a guiding principle for behavior:
don't expect anything and you won't be disappointed, that's my philosophy.

* * * *
The flowers of tomorrow are the seeds of today,
And their seeds the flowers of the tomorrows after,
And on down the line in the long and short of it.

* * * *
There is no middleman between you and the mystery you are.
There is no need to endlessly agonize over questions that have no answer.
There is no need to believe, to worship, to follow, to pray, to grovel, to tithe, to dogmatize,
To dread judgments from an on-high, to quake over imaginary heavens and hells.
You are That I Am, you are that which is unborn, enduring, undying,
As untainted and free as you allow your state of mind to be.

* * * *
What are the senses but readers of the indivisible quantum energy,
And the mind the corporeal, finite neural processing unit
That organizes their steaming input into a world,
Into a universe in which you wander alone
In the ever-churning midst of dualistic otherness.

* * * *
That I Am.
Of which untold seers,
In every time, in every geography,
Have quested, discerned, affirmed, proclaimed:
That I Am, it is you and you are it,
There is no other.

* * * *
We have a very challenging time facing the fact
That this three-dimensional existence is but a touchy-feely dream,
That absolutely nothing is permanent, that forever is nothing more than an idle concept,
A sound whose only reality is but a insignificant vibration in the indivisible,
That has no binds to time, no commitment to form, whatsoever.

* * * *
Any seed is but a one-time blueprint, which may or may not manage to reproduce,
And cast its temporal patterning a bit further in the streaming dream of space-time.

* * * *
Still the busy mind, and without giving anything any thought, simply be the awareness.
Give full attention to each of the senses: the eyes that see, the ears that hear,
The tongue that tastes, the nose that smells, the flesh that feels.
Pay attention to the momentary now, ever-streaming
Through the neural network to the central processing unit.
Where is your world, where is your universe, without the given mind
Projecting, reflecting, through the byzantine filters fabricated of imagination?
All creation is but the ceaseless patterning of nature-nurture set in motion some long ago.
A handiwork that has never been anything but an indivisible quantum matrix,
Never more than an inexplicable dreamtime of unknowable origin.
And the eternal unborn-enduring-undying awareness,
Witness to it all, you are it, and it is you.

* * * *
Is anyone ever all one thing or another?
We are all the multi-faced monkey-mind.

* * * *
All laws, all principles, all canons, all decrees, all rules, and all other such things,
Are entirely born of the arbitrary, dualistic minds of humankind.
There has never been any deity but nature,
And its indivisible dynamic
Is witness, judge, jury, executioner, as needed.

* * * *
What you discern, what you glean, from your world, from your universe,
Is but a reflection of the frame of reference, the filter, doing the translating.

* * * *
There is no part, no fragment, there is only the indivisible whole.
The divisible is but the fabrication of imagination,
And its relentless notions of duality.
Play the part, become the whole,
The nameless, prior to consciousness,
And it countless designs born of limitation.

* * * *
Feel the burning sun warm against your face.
Feel its power, its radiation, permeating your being.
Feel its perpetual capacity to create, to preserve, to destroy.
Is it any wonder that the peoples of old worshipped it,
And that the dominant imagined themselves gods.

* * * *
There it is again, beneath all the interminable facades of conscious design,
The essential as-real-as-it-gets youness, right here, right now,
Eternally present in an ever-timeless sort of way.
You are the irrefutable awareness.
There is no other.

* * * *
Look at all that the agonies and ecstasies
Of your ephemeral, very mortal existence have taught you,
And know that it will all be lost when the glimmer of that last electrical signal dims,
When the body and mind to which you are so habitually attached,
Turns off the light, and without further ado,
Quietly exit the dream.

* * * *
You are the mystery of you, the wonder of you, the eternity of you.
Only sensory perception, imaginary notion, separate you
From that most inescapably authentic reality.
Realize it, grapple it, know it, be it.

* * * *
The crippled beggar in some gutter
May be the richest man in all of human history.
And the Midas with castles of gold across the globe, the poorest.
What is enough, and what is not enough?
Attitude is all.

* * * *
To awaken to eternity, you, the inexplicable awareness,
Must doubt everything to such a great degree
As to be able to shake off the mind and senses entirely.
To become so inwardly at peace as to be neither mind nor body.
A state of timeless beingness for which few have either capacity or inclination.

* * * *
What was it that evolved the human ego?
Was sense of self formed by the competition over mates,
Over hunting grounds, over fishing holes, over resources, over possessions?
Was it the interplay of the given group, the many reflections of others judging this, judging that?
All the dynamics, all the relationships, all the struggles, the array of manifest time,
Gradually sculpting the mind into the one through which you gaze.

* * * *
To discern your own mind, to discover the portal to the unknown,
What other point could there truly be to this rather mundane play?

* * * *
Even as quickly as sensory news travels through the synapses to the brain,
By the time it filters, by the time it registers, in the given mind,
The ever-present now has indivisibly streamed on.
As immeasurable as it may seem,
Even eternal life cannot keep up with reality.

* * * *
The filters of any given monkey-mind, in its imperfect frame of reference, are all about measuring,
Estimating, summarizing, evaluating, calculating, labeling, stereotyping, judging,
But it is the choices made in action and deed that sculpt the day.

* * * *
What we call knowledge is no less imaginary than any fairy tale.
Both are equal products, equal conscripts, of the time born of mind.

* * * *
A certain genesis, a certain cosmos, a certain star, a certain world,
A certain distance, a certain whirl, a certain tilt, a certain evolution,
And voilà, here you are, playing out a mortal dream in space and time.

* * * *
The unfolding history of every generation
Sows the seeds of both agony and ecstasy
For the progeny, and the unborn beyond.

* * * *
Yes, you have learned so much, figured out so much,
Yet here you are, right here, right now, really no less ignorant
Than you were as a newborn babe swaddled in cloth in the given manger.

* * * *
When you get down to the nitty-gritty-brass-tacks gist of it,
You are really nothing more than the clear space of awareness
With a way long list of ever-changing imaginary assumptions.

* * * *
At some point, it there really anything that you have to do ever again?
Seriously, how many times do you have to brush your teeth to get the gist?

* * * *
Consciousness is really nothing more
Than the lightning strikes given meaning and purpose
Along the neuron trails of the brain.

* * * *
Male and female are merely long genomic strands of an evolutionary process
Designed for relationship with nature, relationship with each other, relationship with our selves,
That the ever-changing epoch and all its technologies have in every way usurped.
We are all suffering, we are all struggling, to find our way.

* * * *
What is always ironically droll is how the scientists measure,
And measure and measure, again and again, and nothing really changes.
What futility to believe our egocentric genus will ever evolve beyond its paradigm.
Imagine the vast collection of books and videos and photos and graphs and … and … and ...
That the aliens will discover in the scar tissue of this garden when they finally arrive.
Or maybe they already are here, watching us play out our narcissistic game.

* * * *
From nothingness to nothingness,
The manifest journey between naught but imagination,
And death before dying the only release.

* * * *
There is an uncertain amount of irony and paradox
About rationality when it is marinated in emotion.

* * * *
The real pandemic for humankind will likely be starvation,
And that could take place very quickly given the glacial melt-off
That is accelerating far more exponentially than the algorithm designers
Can wrap their minds around to scribble their meaningless code.

* * * *
Awareness is a dimension without limits, without boundaries, without attributes,
Filled only by the vaporous notions of consciousness, its absorption with, its adoration of,
Its interminable permutations, incessant convolutions, never-ending frivolities, of imaginary origin.

* * * *
Through the endless suffering caused by extremes,
The moderation of the middle path is discerned.

* * * *
Stop pretending to know.
You do not, never did, never will,
And no one else does, did, nor will, either.
Agnostic is the only frank assertion under any sun.

* * * *
What is a degree, what is a certificate, but a piece of paper
That confirms you have learned how to think
In some well-established box.

* * * *
What attachment can awareness have to anything?
Only the winds of consciousness fabricates attributes
Of every form, of every hue, of every shade of gray.

* * * *
Light is only discerned through awareness,
And awareness only possible through manifestation
In one form, one dimension, or another.
The possibilities are infinite,
But there is but one source to all.

* * * *
If you are so fortunate, so privileged,
As to attain the “self-actualized” ethereal of Maslov’s Hierarchy,
If you are able to rise above the temporal, the mundane, worldly tiers of the “physiological,”
Of the “safety,” of the “belongingness and love,” of the “esteem,”
Count your Self blessed,
For if this human epoch has any real meaning,
It is in the transcendent, creative mind, in which it contentedly dwells.

* * * *
To be agnostic, to be uncertain, is to explore for your Self,
No direction known, no answers sought, no conclusions made,
Is to be as eternally present as consciousness in space-time allows.

* * * *
Is there anything not made stronger
When fashioned by a certain amount of challenge,
A certain amount of adversity, a certain amount of pain and suffering.
Of the qualities needed for survival in this manifest world,
Amorphous is likely only rarely included.

* * * *
Best never to presume you know another’s mind,
Without figuring out what is going on in yours first.

* * * *
So subtle as to be ever obscure,
So esoteric as to be sought by the rarest of the rare,
So inexplicable as to stand alone, no matter the time, no matter the space.

* * * *
History as it is unfolding is less about academics than it is reaction to the given moment.
It is only as the gaze broadens to the larger context that perspective
Begins the slow process of reflection,
That will one day harvest a footnote in some chronicle.

* * * *
Evaporate the wind-blown clouds of consciousness
That swirl through the awareness you truly are.

* * * *
What have you really given your child if it does not include
Discipline, fortitude, resourcefulness, gumption, and grit?

* * * *
Best to always be mindful that some little thing you do today
May well come calling with your death warrant tomorrow.

* * * *
If you know pain, you likely know fear, and what weaves pain
But the conditioned mind that clings to its imaginary universe.

* * * *
What fun is it just to drive the vehicle if you have no idea
What is going on under the hood and between the wheels.

* * * *
Are you really any more than an imaginary notion
Inspired by the dream into which you were cast?

* * * *
You cannot erase pain unless you deal with its cause,
And that may or may not be well beyond possible.

* * * *
What is the difference between a flake of gold and a grain of sand,
But a level, a degree, a magnitude, an intensity, of quantum vibration.
The appraisals deigned by consciousness are naught but imaginary notion.

* * * *
cancer |ˈkansər|

noun
the disease caused by an uncontrolled division of abnormal cells in a part of the body:
he's got cancer | smoking is the major cause of lung cancer.
• a malignant growth or tumor resulting from the division of abnormal cells:
most skin cancers are curable.
• a practice or phenomenon perceived to be evil or destructive and hard to contain or eradicate:
racism is a cancer sweeping across Europe.

* * * *
Where anyone takes the quest for truth
Is entirely a subjective reckoning.
How far and wide any seeker travels to discern
That it was all within and without from the very beginning,
Is the chronicle, the saga, the myth, the epic, that all must alone navigate.

* * * *
What is any modern world, any current era, any contemporary timeframe,
But the timeless present kaleidoscoping within the relativity of any given mind.
It is only as real, as tangible, as imagination, inspired by the sensory feed, ordains.

* * * *
So many failures, so many errors, so many flaws, so many imperfections, so many mistakes,
So many blunders, so many trespasses, so many brutalities, so many desires, so many vanities,
So many regrets for so many things, for which you must first and foremost forgive your Self.

* * * *
Why believe anything, why fear anything, for which there is no rational proof?
To fear the irrational is to dread what is really nothing more
Than the imaginary dross born of mind.

* * * *
What is it in the timeless course of space interwoven with time that stimulated the human mind
Into becoming so ingenious at tool-making and countless other disciplines?
What a phenomenal whodunit the evolutionary aspect
Of this unfathomable handiwork.

* * * *
Most life forms exist in a choiceless eternal vulnerability
That knows neither birth nor death, nor any measurable notion.
Instinct is the patterning established in all though the Darwinian shaping
Of each and every genomic strand over millions and millions of years of evolution.
Consciousness, as the human ego fields it, assumes an invulnerability that is utterly fictional.
The assumption of free will, of choice, despite all illusions to the contrary,
Is every moment shackled to the instinctual roots of origin.
To suppose that you are truly and completely free,
That you have reign over your choices,
Is a dubious assertion, indeed.
The ultimate truth of it is,
That in any manifest dreamtime,
You can no more alter the given part you play
Than any other living thing acting out its minute function
In this inexplicable, indelible, indivisible, immutable, cosmic hologram,
Born in the vapors of imagination moving to and fro in the clear space of awareness.
To give over to the vulnerability you in reality ever are, is a reflective view to which few are drawn.

* * * *
The Monopoly game taught us everything we needed to know about capitalism.  Round and round until the one-percenters and their minions own it all; the rest minding the hotels or homeless.  Capitalism, or as I call it, consumerocracy, is about greed and self-interest, and egalitarian ethics has never been, nor will ever be, a concern to those who wield the whip.  Few ever willingly hand over or share power, fame, or fortune.  The masses may whine and grumble, but, unless they are inspired to revolution – which only puts new masters upon the throne – their lot is whatever crumbs drift down from the heights.  Might makes right is the human paradigm that has played out over and over since long before we wandered from the jungles of origin out into the world.  Nothing you or I say or do will change that.

* * * *
What is the universe?
And what makes you believe it has ever existed
In any which-way the senses have deceived your mind into daily believing?

* * * *
At some point there is really no need to even assert “I Am.”
Just being – breathing in, breathing out – is more than enough.

* * * *
The Seven Deadlies: Pride, Envy, Gluttony, Lust, Wrath, Greed, Sloth.
The cornerstone for any narcissistic, hedonistic, Sybarite.
The perdition of any of monk-ish design.

* * * *
The one mind discerns the one in all, the one mind discerns there is no other.
What point anything but compassion, even for the most abominable.
We are all just visitors here, prisoners here, of our own device.

* * * *
The universe exists because the oneness cannot do it all but through the many.
Truth is, who would ever want to revel in every ecstasy,
Much less endure every agony?

* * * *
Can you take all the pain upon which you dwell,
And cast it away in one mighty knock-down toss?

* * * *
Water flows, plants grow, birds fly, universes bang, universes crunch.
Only the mind you imagine you are daily struggles to be more or less.

* * * *
All seeds merely inherited genetic blueprints
Dutifully playing out their design.
No brag, just fact.

* * * *
If you are still looking for something, try turning your mind inside out.
Look to nothing, see what it is, see what it is not,
And that it is the just reward.

* * * *
Best deal with the fact that relatively very, very few
Really give a rat’s ass about your existence
At any relatively meaningful level.

* * * *
When the ebbing and flowing of the essence, the quantum fever, subsides,
When foreword is no longer forward, when backward is no longer backward,
When the singular awareness transcends the ever-moving tides of thought,
Where is the me-myself-and-I that believed its imaginary realm so real?

* * * *
Erase all boundaries, burn all flags, discern the common ground of awareness,
And wander your universe unburdened by the differences born of imagination.

* * * *
For consciousness to examine itself, for awareness to become aware of itself,
For the mystery to gaze into the indivisible depths of its mystery,
Is not this the ultimate raison d'être for all creation?

* * * *
If you always do your best, if you always strive in a mindset of quality, of excellence, of virtue,
Then succeeding or failing is only of cursory consequence, a relatively negligible detail.
Process is all, and goals merely imaginary pauses along the eternal journey.

* * * *
How ridiculous it is to believe anyone individual can save anything or anyone,
When in the reality of this kaleidoscoping dream, there is nothing to save.
And even if there were, it would be the matrix-level synergy doing it,
Not some illusory persona wrapped in inflated self-absorption.

* * * *
What is the Bible but a poorly organized history book, laced with smatterings of wisdom,
Certainly no greater than any other so-called scripture written across this temporal orb.

* * * *
You are entirely a dream in everyone else’s awareness, and they in yours.
We are all alone together, from this shore to the farthest reaches and beyond.

* * * *
Through all creation, all preservation, all destruction,
The indivisible nothingness of totality reigns absolute.

* * * *
The other creates opportunity for reflection,
Something to which many throughout time and space
Have given their lives over, most often willingly, sometime not.
It is a creative enterprise, the pleasure of which sustains beyond measure.

* * * *
Nobody really knows what is going on around any given corner;
How could they possibly know is happening across the universe?
Or who-what-where-when-why-how it all started in the first place?

* * * *
That little gratification, that little pleasure,
That little satisfaction, that little amusement, that little enjoyment,
That little hedonistic longing, that little decadent inclination, that little narcissistic notion,
How much do you really need it?  How important is it, really?

* * * *
Double-speakers calling the circle, square, and the square, circle.
And weary octagons forever on their own, ever out on limbs too far.

* * * *
And what is the raison d'être of always growing, growing, growing?
Always developing, always expanding, always snowballing,
When the biosphere underfoot is rapidly becoming beyond-the-pale unlivable?
How far will we take it before the web that maintains life as we know it becomes all but undone?

* * * *
Every moment springing simultaneously anew within the indivisible quantum matrix.
All its concoctions, all its innumerable forms,  ever the same source,
Ever the same awareness, ever the same you-ness,
Ever the same boggling mystery.
How astounding this indelible Song of Godness,
This eternal eye gazing out the masks and veils of manifestation.

* * * *
Call it what you will – soul, self, cosmos, god, whatever –
You are the awareness, not a dream of consciousness.

* * * *
Awareness is the “awakeness” of all living creations,
Of the indivisible quantum matrix, the stardust, come to “life.”
It is the eternal eye of the unknown prior to all manifestation ever-changing,
And whatever dreams they in spontaneous combustion may inspire.

* * * *
Identity is the mistaken belief that the awareness you really are
Is at all attached to the sundry attributes of the  food-body,
Or the world of appearances through which it renders.

* * * *
You are that which is mystery, that which is unknowable, that which is eternal,
That which is prior to all attributes, all properties, all characteristics, all components,
That which is prior to all the divisions, all the dualities, all the dichotomies, born of consciousness.

* * * *
At some point the fevered monopoly game runs out of new ground,
And the worn and torn infrastructure turns to gravity for resolution.

* * * *
There is ultimately nothing for which you need be forgiven.
You did not ask to be here; there is no need to pray for more.

* * * *
Real strength, real power, is an inner confidence
That does not require effort or show,
A sword rarely drawn.

* * * *
To all critics: Please go away.
Find something real to do with your existence.
Is it not obvious to you that what you think is of little or no concern
To those who embrace the great solitude, whose lives are streaming with its creative force.

* * * *
You have been filled to the brim with countless vain distractions
That are ultimately nothing more than deceptions formed of sensory illusion.
Attributes spun of random, arbitrary evolutionary happenstance,
Nothing more than nothingness playing its Self real.

* * * *
In all destinies there is an executioner, an assassin, a slayer,
Formed of the earth-wind-water-fire of all things here-now ether.
There is no escape for the awareness you are, only an abiding endurance.
Spurn the Fates, they cannot touch you once the shadow of karma loses its hold.

* * * *
Pretend you are already dead.
Die to time, literally be here now, right here, right now,
As still as the morning dew, totally alone, eternally present, not a care in the world,
All knowledge vaporized, no family, no friends, no enemies, no problems,
No attachment to the pleasures and pains of the sensory feed,
Complete negation of any and all assumptions,
Nothing more, nothing less,
No body, no identity, no possessions,
Nothing more than pure, still, attentive awareness.

* * * *
The addictive mind is an insatiable mind, a consuming force obsessed with every possible extreme:
Food, sex, alcohol, drugs, religion, power, fame, fortune, materialism, greed ad infinitum.
An habitual, undisciplined, pride-filled mind driven to debilitating dependency
By what is really nothing more than a kaleidoscoping sensory theater.
Ever running from the aloneness, the stillness, the essence,
Of the indelible mystery permeating everything.

* * * *
Why worship, why adulate, why venerate, why elevate, why praise, why flatter, why glorify,
Why revere, why adore, why honor, why exalt, why idolize, why deify,
That which you are, have ever been, will ever be?
Surely just being it is enough.

* * * *
Tag the immeasurable, the indivisible, the unknown, however you will,
It remains forever untouched, untainted, immaculately eternal.
The dream of consciousness is but quantum vibration in the ever-present now,
An imaginary configuration of the human mind snared in the web of its own sensory creation.

* * * *
It is a more-than-well-documented-very-historical-across-the-game-board fact that the multitudes
– Crowd, horde, throng, pack, flock, herd, mass, host, gang, mob, rabble, call it what you will –
Can be easily manipulated to, with extreme enthusiasm, go along with just about anything.

* * * *
Awareness is a very nothing-but-youness.
What is there to think about, really?

* * * *
It can indeed be a long and winding and oft times lonely road
Until you discern the matrix through which all time-bound linear notions wander,
Is, has ever been, will ever be, eternal aloneness unto thy Self.

* * * *
Your proud, relatively brief mortal existence is naught but an infinitesimal scratch on a linear timeline
Born of an immeasurable mystery, by whatever metaphor you might choose to describe it:
Creation, genesis, big bang, or turtles all the way down, turtles all the way up.
Stardust playing out a paradigm invoked by the happenstance of human consciousness.

* * * *
How many dimensions might there be?
How many ways can you cut any pie?

* * * *
Misogyny and misandry are the loathing of innate differences
Selected in the puddles, the jungles, the diverse geographies, of long ago.
What it took to survive, to abide, in those way-back-whens are far different stories
In these our modern, materialistic, overwrought, so-called civilized times.

* * * *
Perhaps rather than calling it a redistribution of wealth,
It should be called a redistribution of compassion.

* * * *
The dark side of our indelible tool-making ability, all our technologies,
Is how often we are overwhelmed and burdened, even subjugated,
By their efficiency, by their sovereignty, by their omnipotence.

* * * *
As if any individual, any group, any culture, any mindset,
Can really change or control a world, a universe,
This colossal, this diverse, this complex,
This unutterably mysterious.

* * * *
The world, the universe, the hologram, the matrix, the quantum, call it what you will,
Is in a relentless state of consumption, a constant state of fluctuation,
Unscathed, unchanged, uncaring, all the while.

* * * *
Mind-altering substances can be teachers, guides, companions,
That aid the exploration of the relativity of consciousness,
And the inexplicable mystery from whence it arises,
Harmful only if they are misused and abused.
Moderation, equilibrium, equanimity, in all things.

* * * *
The now streams indivisibly each and every moment into the next,
While the sensory mind consumes it, metabolizes it, weaves it,
Into a perception of time, which only imagination knows.

* * * *
To see what cannot be seen,
Hear what cannot be heard,
Taste what cannot be tasted,
Smell what cannot be smelled,
Touch what cannot be touched,
Now there’s the rub.

* * * *
Whether intentional or not, those who have, those who can,
Often enslave those who do not have, those who cannot.

* * * *
Filling the day with another round of nothing?
Or filling another nothing with a round of day?

* * * *
What culture, what tradition, what meme, what ethos, what world,
Can withstand the onslaught of six billion in just two hundred years?

* * * *
A bubble of awareness, nothing more, nothing less.
Naught but imagination coupled with the sensory feed,
Dressing it infinitesimal to infinite, as the given mind allows.

* * * *
Who is not both predator and prey, hunter and quarry, slayer and slain,
At capricious junctures in this temporal theater of existence.
Each has its time, each as its place, and the rub
Is knowing when, is knowing how.

* * * *
It is what it is, and nothing anyone thinks or does
Has ever mattered even one iota of diddley-squat.

* * * *
History is whatever each of us thinks it is, and much of it absurd hogwash.
Time always boils down to be here now, and enjoy or endure it as best ye may.

* * * *
The same conversations have been going on since the advent of language.
Only cultural distinctions shaped by geography and time
Have made them appear different,
And humanity has never dealt well with contrasts.

* * * *
Civilization is defined as “the stage of human social development and organization that is considered most advanced.”  Civility is defined as “formal politeness and courtesy in behavior or speech.”  If getting along and supporting each other is the goal, the peak of any civilization, any community, any group, is gauged by how many abide the Golden Rule: Do unto others as you would have them do unto you.  No synergy bent on a cooperative, health-giving one-for-all-all-for-one can long sustain without it.

* * * *
Nothingness is the eternal constant within which every imaginable variable,
Each and every one formed of the quantum essence and its ever-shifting nature,
Ever condenses and evaporates, like clouds in the sky, in its timeless here now.
It has been called by many names, to which it has never even once answered.

* * * *
Hell, as some quotable once said, is in the details,
And there always seems to be more than a random few
Wandering about in the here and there of the every where.

* * * *
Attitude is all.
With the flip of a thought, sorrow becomes joy;
Bad, good; bitter, cordial; anger, calm; violent, gentle; arrogant, humble; sour, sweet; dark, light.
The remedy to the ever-conflicted world is the within that is within all withouts.

* * * *
Go back to the you before the body, and forward to the you after it has fallen away.
Of what importance is this one container, this one set of imaginary notions, really?

* * * *
Why is every man not treated, respected, venerated, as one would
A grandfather, a father, an uncle, a brother, a husband, or a son?
Why is every woman not treated, respected, venerated, as one would
A grandmother, a mother, an aunt, a sister, a wife, or a daughter?
What is it that makes our kind so callous toward strangers?
Why are we so caught up in the squalor of differences
Rather than the common thread weaving all?

* * * *
Humankind reached its first billion in 1804,
Its second billion in 1927.
The eighth is predicted around 2026.
Seven billion two-leggeds in just over two hundred years.
The total number who have ever lived is estimated to be a 100 billion or more.
How can any paradise ever hold up to such a feeding frenzy?

* * * *
Every religion began as a sect, a cult, of supporters, of enthusiasts, of followers, of groupies,
Who worked very diligently to persuade others they were gatekeepers of the truth,
And should be acknowledged, venerated, and compensated accordingly.

* * * *
Revenge has a long memory,
And it is only through self-restraint
That it is not severely exacted at some point.
How many are fortunate that they have not endured
What others have contemplated with one apparatus or another.

* * * *
Despite being the inexplicable infinity of all potentials great to small,
You must abide the capacities and limitations of the given vessel.
In the words of Quintus Arrius: You are all condemned men.
We keep you alive to serve this ship.  So row well, and live.

* * * *
What bounds can there be in the ultimate that you truly are?
We are all playing out the conditioning of the given mind-body
In this ever-changing dreamtime born of sensory perception.

* * * *
How long someone will stay around
When you offer little more than good will and fellowship
Is the defining mark of genuine friendship.

* * * *
Measuring our decline one graph at a time;
Kind of like an already bad poker hand that only draws worse.
The good news is that we will be leaving behind a prodigious collection of videos
For the extraterrestrials to check out when they finally show up.

* * * *
Is money to be considered an end, a raison d'être, in itself,
Or a means to survive, a means to experience one’s fleeting existence,
In as many enjoyable, amusing, hedonistic, even enlightening ways, as possible?

* * * *
One of the most detrimental things parents can do to their children
Is imbue them with too much entitlement.
Discipline and grit
Are handy out there in the real world, such as it is.

* * * *
Who can out-Schopenhauer Schopenhauer?
Who can out-Wittgenstein Wittgenstein?
Who can out-Heraclitus Heraclitus?
Who can out-Aristotle Aristotle?
Who can out-Buddha Buddha?
Who can out-Kafka Kafka?
Who can out-Plato Plato?
Who can out-Hess Hess?
Who can out-Marx Marx?
Who can out-Sartre Sartre?
Who can out-Spinoza Spinoza?
Who can out-Lao Tzu Lao Tzu?
Who can out-Descartes Descartes?
Who can out-Nietzsche Nietzsche?
Who can out-Vonnegut Vonnegut?
Who can out-Confucius Confucius?
Who can out-Zoroaster Zoroaster?
Who can out-Shankara Shankara?
Who can out-Epicurus Epicurus?
Who can out-Aurelius Aurelius?
Who can out-Voltaire Voltaire?
Who can out- Locke Locke?
Who can out-Hegel Hegel?
Who can out-Kant Kant?
Who can out-Jesus Jesus?
Who can out-Camus Camus?
Who can out-Socrates Socrates?
Who can out-Heidegger Heidegger?
Who can out-Mohammed Mohammed?
Who can out-Krishnamurti Krishnamurti?
Who can out-philosophize the weight of history?
Hemmed in by the sages of the ages, we are, we are.

* * * *
No deity on high is going to resurrect your silly little identity
And its ever-changing mortal meat machine.
You are doomed to oblivion.
So it goes, deal with it, get over it, move on.

* * * *
For the young, a long, winding road ahead.
For the elderly, a vague meander looking back.

* * * *
There is an absoluteness,
In which neither within nor without,
Nor any other distinction of consciousness exist.

* * * *
What a challenge for the mind evolved of time
To be completely attentive, totally engaged to the given moment,
The moment that has always been, and will ever be,
Exactly as it is, right here, right now.

* * * *
What curious thing how flesh can in one instance be so enticing,
And in another be only just a few clicks short of horrifying.
Everything abides in one slice of relativity or another.
Perception is all, and all must endure one way or another.

* * * *
And if it is perchance in your cards to figure out this mystery of mysteries,
How far will you glean it?  What will you say?  What will you do?
How will you play this, what might be called, fate of fates?

* * * *
Not even one moment in your entire existence has ever been more than a dream.
None of it has ever been truly real but for the ephemeral nothingness
That is as close to “reality” as this mystery can ever be.

* * * *
It is all nothing, and no something, no matter how enticing, no matter how convincing,
Will long detain the earnest seeker from discerning that which is beyond all doubts true.

* * * *
Other than the endlessly wearing reality
That two-legged existence is politics from the get-go,
Why would it matter even one iota what any other thinks of you?
Forever alone, you must daily pretend you are not.

* * * *
The many memes of groupthink are cementing consciousness
Into a wide range of extraordinarily contorted assumptions,
Baseball caps, cowboy hats, chewing tobacco, not excluded.

* * * *
Best to be somewhat cautious with that body.
It is the only one you will have on this relatively brief journey.
It is more than a little fun to toss it around and gratify it with every form of indulgence,
But know that there are many consequences to each of the deadly sins.
Pride, envy, gluttony, lust, wrath, greed, and sloth,
Should never to be taken lightly.

* * * *
You cannot save anybody, much less everybody.
The dream has been doomed from the get-go.

* * * *
The grace of youth, the wonder of innocence, sooner or later, quickly or slowly,
Gives way to the inevitable decline and fall of sickness, injury, aging and dying.
The end of all entitlement, no matter how grand, is most assuredly guaranteed.

* * * *
A big factor in mortal existence is your ability to endure your own suffering,
And your response to the suffering throughout your translation of the world.

* * * *
To exist free of vanity is a rare feat, indeed, and more often than not only in deep sleep.
Whether it is even possible on more than sporadic occasions when awake
Might well be cause for the greatest vanity possible,
And even get you dangled on a cross or molded into a statue.

* * * *
Those hairy things that swing from branch to branch, yes, you are closely related.
What is a few million years of evolution when you are talking billions to be here now.

* * * *
You compose your own chronicle every day.
Wretched or sublime, it is ultimately the same.

* * * *
Timelines within timelines within timelines,
An indivisible quantum sea playing out a space-time relativity.
Everything written in the sands of ever-timeless time,
For you to discern as mind and heart allow
In this very mortal walkabout.

* * * *
There is little or no point in trying to explain or justify anything to anyone, really.
May as well remain mute to those who will never understand the inner quest.
The apologist for the ephemeral is ultimately only babbling away to Self.

* * * *
Here you are, a drop of the grand mystery,
Weighing in as best you can with what tools you have,
Still unable to fathom any who-what-where-when-why-how to it.
What can you do but be here, be now, mortal witness to the dream of time.

* * * *
What solution can there be to the interminability of it all,
When the universe you were in no longer exists.
When you are, each and every moment,
Already streaming past the point of no return.

* * * *
Is civilization really any more than a utterly futile attempt by men
To help women feel secure, stay clean, and perchance be happy?

* * * *
And the quantum spun itself into everything, ever timeless, ever absolute, ever indifferent.

* * * *
As awake as you well might be, is reconfiguring the programming even remotely possible?
How else will you act out your day-to-day, but in the format you have in time acquired?

* * * *
Everyone has their own sojourn
To either meander wherever they feel beckoned,
Or blow whatever direction the tempests of dreamtime sends them.

* * * *
Your egocentricity is really no different than the sun gods of ancient empires
Building grand monuments, erecting imposing tombs, contriving divine legends,
Flailing as you do at the impermanence to which all things every moment succumb.

* * * *
Krishna, Buddha, Lao Tzu, Zoroaster, Moses, Jesus,
Socrates, Aristotle, Mohammed, Confucius,
And on and on and yawn and yawn.
All clichés, all stereotypes,
All two-dimensional souvenirs,
Afflictions of time upon the timeless.

* * * *
Human beings are absolutely no different
Than any other biological entities in this manifest realm,
And we will, each and every one of us, disincorporate the same as every other
In Mother Nature’s magically indifferent dream of time.

* * * *
So many interesting things to do in life
That are entirely satisfied by a spoonful of imagination,
The real thing often being far too out of reach,
Or too bothersome to bother doing.

* * * *
The difference between any you and any me is all in our heads, all in our minds.
Our perceptions, our imagination, our relentless emphasis on the ever-kaleidoscoping universe,
Playing out every timeless moment, bewildering us all with its inexplicable veil.
And who has the unshakable witness behind the curtain ever been,
But the same you that is me, the same me that is you.

* * * *
So many wandering about,
Regurgitating one blather or another,
When right smack dab in the middle of their mind
Is the most inexplicable mystery they could ever hope to discern.

* * * *
If others cannot see it, there is absolutely no reason
To debate, argue, or get all uppity or furious about it.
The many-are-called-few-are-chosen rule applies.

* * * *
What is a sail but a compass to the wind.
What is the mind but a universe to awareness.

* * * *
So many so caught up in one dogma or another – so conditioned, so habituated, so brainwashed –
That it would likely never occur to them they are not at all free and clear in their imaginary prison.

* * * *
What is any thought but the drip-drip of consciousness
Coming and going, condensing and evaporating,
As does the ephemeral vapor of any cloud.

* * * *
Who did that?  What happened?
When did it take place?  Where did it take place?
Why did that happen?  How did it happen?
Who is the who, who is asking?

* * * *
For anyone perceptive enough to take notice,
The Yellow-Brick-Road serendipities it has taken
To reach this here-now are long-and-winding, indeed.

* * * *
So many countless ways to look at everything.
So many filters of every size, of every hue,
Of every fashion under any given sun.

* * * *
To become a skeptic, a cynic, a doubter, an agnostic, one becomes an adversary of delusion,
An antagonist to the fallacies of mythology, superstition, and other cultural assumptions.
The mind of the critical thinker is its own reflection of what is real, and what is not.

* * * *
What is any given mind but a set, a bag, an array, of programming.
A circulating loop of habituation, conditioning, brainwashing.
A frame of reference believing its thoughts real and true,
Its manufactured identity sacrosanct and enduring.

* * * *
And what would this inane world be like if we all respected each other,
If we all treated one another as we would ourselves choose to be treated?
The Golden Rule is an ideal to which vanity only allows lip service be paid.

* * * *
No matter how assiduously one may give heart and mind
Over to some idea, some creed, some meme, some groupthink,
No individual existence can ever be close to being exactly the same.
Despite all thought and done, all are unique blends of the same stardust.

* * * *
Time travel?  Get real.
How can you cross something that does not exist
As anything more than an imaginary notion?

* * * *
Approaching it all as nothing
Instead of the something the senses deceive you into believing,
That’s the key for those born to see.

* * * *
From the innocence and optimism of youth, to the distortion and skepticism of old age;
Through it all we must mindfully cultivate our garden, and sow whatever time allows.

* * * *
Clinging to anything too intensely is like clenching your teeth.
It only gets more stiff, more painful, perhaps even harmful.

* * * *
Such devices we have invented to dispatch ourselves
And every hapless creature in our juggernauting path.

* * * *
Awareness is simply awareness, without any attributes whatsoever.
It is only consciousness which conceives every variety of distraction.

* * * *
What need to believe in anything, really,
Once the eternal beingnesss of awareness
Resumes its default position at the helm.

* * * *
Mind-altering substances across this magical world are the gift of eternity to its Self.
The challenge, given their hedonistic potential, is a certain level of moderation,
And how well you utilize them for right purpose, at least once and awhile.

* * * *
Be that totality, that absoluteness, that solitude, that quietude,
Where there is no within, where there is no without,
Where there is no where but here now.

* * * *
Whether on a mountain chanting,
Or in a tavern slamming straight shots,
Gravity is slowly drawing all to the same grave.
Vanity is but the game of consciousness.

* * * *
There is an innocence to any first-time experience that cannot be replicated,
No matter how unblemished the mind, no matter how unsullied the eyes.

* * * *
What universe do you perceive but the one you project
Through the frame of reference you imagine yourself to be.

* * * *
All sense of time, all memory, even of just a moment ago, is unreal,
Naught but a figment of imaginary duplicity,
A lie unto thy Self.

* * * *
The facelessness through which all perceive their universe
Draws many a Narcissus to one reflective pool or another.

* * * *
Philosophers are certainly fond of their labels and conclusions,
As if any of it really means anything in the ultimate sense.
Perhaps the last vanity, but it is vanity, nonetheless.

* * * *
Unhook the engine, let loose all the baggage cars.
Be that sharp-cutting-edge, up-front-and-center awareness,
That which was never born, that which never dies,
That which you truly are and are not.

* * * *
Of all the knowledge gleaned since the fruit of the garden was figuratively picked,
Your little set is but a speck of a bit of a tad of a drop of a crumb
Of a trace of a fragment of a morsel of a smidgen,
And yet all of the all, all the while.

* * * *
Pass what may, the mortal conclusion is at some point assured.
The veil cloaking the sensory mind is but a momentary dream.

* * * *
It is more often than not an error
To think you are the smartest guy in the room.
Arrogance is one of pride’s surest ways to fall fast and hard.

* * * *
Real spirituality is a solitary endeavor.
If you are following some beguiling personality,
Or participating in some sort of intoxicating groupthink,
Rest assured that you need to push the reset button.

* * * *
Is any religion, any belief system, really any more than contrived philosophy
Double-double-toiled-and-troubled-fire-burned-and-cauldron-bubbled?

* * * *
If everyone stayed the dogma of their ever-wagging tongues,
We would all be quite equal in our little dreamtime worlds.

* * * *
Some would wake up happier than a tick on a vein every day studying the nuances of gnat wings,
And others to a lifetime of gypsy-like wandering, reaping experience after experience.
What cause generates the specialist in some and the generalist in others?

* * * *
Life is solitary, poor, nasty, brutish, and short.
So it goes, deal with it, get over it, move on.

* * * *
How long can you listen in absolute stillness
To a babbling brook or crashing ocean waves
Before the restless mind reasserts itself in time?
A challenge beyond measure, indeed, indeed.

* * * *
There is no authority, much less a higher one.
To say you are author of your consciousness is as close as it gets,
And then only for the briefest of temporal whiles.

* * * *
What is history but the recycling of monkey-mind patterns bred in the jungles of long ago,
Regurgitated daily with new permutations and technologies seasoning the feast of dreamtime.

* * * *
What more could there possibly be than this ever-present existential moment?
All else is nothing more than the smoke and mirrors of every imaginable distraction.

* * * *
How ludicrous to imagine that we really know anything,
That all our speculations mean diddly-squat,
That all our ceaseless wordplay
Is any more than another form of wind.

* * * *
You cannot hope for peace in a world swirled and hurled asunder
By the exponentially accelerating technologies of death and mayhem.
War is peace in this Darwinian leap into the survival of the fittest.
And those who endure, those who abide the dystopian future
Are not necessarily the stronger, or the more intelligent,
But those most adaptable to the pendulum of time.

* * * *
Imagination is bound only by the limits of any given dimension,
That set by the quantum mechanics regulating the groundwork.

* * * *
We each discern clarity in our own unique way.
No point looking back once you are in free fall.

* * * *
Live and let live, live and let die, die and let live, die and let die;
Choices you may well decide a time or three in any given day.

* * * *
Even if there is some on-high deity,
What need to constantly bow and scrape?
What need to tarry in guilt and self-loathing?
What need to again and again pray for forgiveness?
What need to beg for what is not freely given?
What need to give thanks even once?
What point projecting vanity
On that which should have none?

* * * *
The world, the universe you have been interacting with all your so-called life,
Is all in your head, an ephemeral dreamtime entirely imagined from the get-go.

* * * *
The idolatry of form has drawn many a mind throughout the rise of humankind.
How many whimsical notions have been fabricated across the world,
Faces we can see rather than the one and only we cannot.

* * * *
The butterfly wing’s flap,
The elephant’s belch,
The snake’s slither,
The gnat’s fart,
All connected.

* * * *
Why so many feel such inclination to shackle others in some sort of dogmatic prison
Is the story of power, fame, and fortune, of greed, of every imaginable pleasure,
Playing out the same patterns over and over and over like a broken record.

* * * *
The cosmos is rumored by many thinkers
To have begun infinitesimally small indeed.
Such is the nature of all things imagined.

* * * *
The awareness, the spirit, the soul, the essence, the mystery,
How can it be said to belong to anybody, if not everybody and everything?
In the raging sea of metaphors, it is all very much the same.

* * * *
Be the world, the cosmos, everything you imagine it might contain.
Do not be held back by the innumerable limits of your given conditioning.
Stand alone, absolute, indivisible, inscrutable, the zenith of your panoramic view.

* * * *
Desire and fear are imbued in the primordial roots of every human endeavor.
From the long ago jungles dark and ominous, passion burst across the world.

* * * *
That the cosmos, that you, exist at all, is beyond the scope of all rationality, all sensibility,
And yet why should the ultimate truth not be forever impenetrable, unfathomable, inscrutable?
Why should it, how could it, ever be required or obligated to make any sense whatsoever
To any but the relatively rare few inexplicably called to witness its indelible way.

* * * *
Why should you examine and verify anything and everything to your satisfaction?
Because you are a scientist, and resolute, exacting observation is first and foremost.

* * * *
At some point on some day after some tomorrow,
Consciousness as humankind has portrayed it will simply disappear.
And on and on the abiding earth will whirl, until the cosmic dominos fall however they will.
And more likely than not,  despite all science fiction to the contrary,
No alien species will ever come across all the residue
Of our relatively transitory tenure.

* * * *
To inflict pain and suffering for overacted, overplayed theater,
What is the point but more unnecessary, often pathetic drama.

* * * *
You know what you did, why you did it,
Why do you need any recognition or reward?
Why care what anyone else thinks about you, really?

* * * *
How astounding all the creativity that humankind has wrought,
And to what happy-sad endgame will it take us before it is over?

* * * *
Best not to declare most anything impossible,
For there always seems to be someone in one cubicle or another
Who may well find a way to prove you wrong.

* * * *
Why should you not be somewhat irritated, frustrated, irascible,
That your innocence was defiled, corrupted, maligned,
By the wearing quagmire of human inanity?

* * * *
Rest as easy as the abrasive traces of the mind-body allow
In all the tensions your existence has inspired in its neurological frame.
It is the anxiety all life forms balance in order to survive,
In order to propagate a future for its kind.

* * * *
So many badly written plots out there in the wide world
That could use a few more rewrites to skew things aright.

* * * *
An unseen force, in which all existence rises and falls,
An ocean churning for whatever time eternity gives way.

* * * *
Some familial connections
Seem like little more than a vague rumor
That you were perchance brought up in the same dwelling.

* * * *
The limits of the mortal container are not the limits
Of the quantum awareness witnessing the field of view.

* * * *
You see and hear and taste and smell and touch
Through the mind-body filter to which you are so attached.
The memes of dreamtime have molded you into a pattern you think you.
Only by discerning the quantum awareness prior to the nature-nurture programming
Can the essential, intrinsic freedom of that which is timeless, that which is eternal life, be truly won.

* * * *
The Wanting Game:
The no-life spent buying more-more-more
Of what was never needed in the first place.

* * * *
More people might be more content
If they tried relishing their given madness
Instead of conforming to some therapeutic mold.

* * * *
Not everyone wants to exist in this world or any other.
What is suicide but someone saying they are no longer interested
In the hullabaloo of their imaginary version of the world.

* * * *
And why would you need to keep kissing some deity’s derrière,
Because he/she/it, without your knowledge or consent, created you?

* * * *
In the relativity of all things human paradigm,
There are likely many, many, far worse rolls
Than the one about which you are whining.

* * * *
What we call goodness is consciousness without ulterior motive.
What we call evil is consciousness distorted by perception
Into every imaginable contortion of self absorption.

* * * *
Is the difference between night and day, dark and light,
Anything more than bearing of the lamp and set of the room?

* * * *
The you that you play is but history.
The you that you really are is eternal.

* * * *
Identity is a charade born of the monkey-mind in some long ago,
A mortal game that you are forced to play to one degree or another
If you wish to survive for at least a modicum of mind’s potential.

* * * *
And in that oblivion, that obscurity, that emptiness, that gap, that space,
That abyss, that vacuum, that void, that nothingness,
That nada of awareness, you are.

* * * *
You likely are not at all concerned what happens to some seemingly insignificant life form
In a tide pool or stream or valley or desert or mountain or glacier on the other side of the world,
But, discern it or not, that web of life, of which absolutely everything is part, is why you exist.

* * * *
You are not, have never been, will never be,
The you that you imagine your dream to be.

* * * *
Every mind-body has its capacities and limitations.
Exploring those limits are the adventure life offers.

* * * *
Nature-nurture is a fluid dance
Between mind-body and the winds of time,
Together weaving a dream of existence unlike any other.

* * * *
What is the smallest small, what is the largest large,
And what are you if not the awareness, the nothingness,
The indivisibility that weaves within and without all.

* * * *
Some other here, same now.
Some other now, same here.

* * * *
One Ring to rule them all,
One Ring to find them,
One Ring to bring them all
And in the awareness bind them.

* * * *
What you do or say today
In no way makes you duty bound
To play it the same in any given tomorrow.
It is nothing more than vanity that strikes a bargain
That you incarnate the same persona from one day to the next.

* * * *
And I use the personal pronouns
– I, you, he, she, it, we, they, me, him, her, us, them –
Rather loosely given that we are really but the nothingnesss of awareness,
Playing a game of charades conditioned by time, drawing toward a whimpering conclusion.

* * * *
Indifferent to all pasts, indifferent to all futures,
Indifferent to any and all assertions,
The awareness you are,
Simply is.

* * * *
When your time is up, your time is up,
And a fair amount of pain and suffering
Between the many snippets of pleasure.

* * * *
What a tale to tell of all these overlapping monopoly games
Striving for pride’s supremacy in the Game of Mammon,
Which we must all play – like it or no – to some degree.

* * * *
Pretty amazing how much can very quickly transpire
To those so ill-fated as to exist in interesting times.

* * * *
What you imagine you are is quantum stardust.
What you really are is far older, far younger,
Than anything that can ever be conceived.

* * * *
Everybody has their ethical bubble sheening in the light of their given time.
There is a lot less grief not expecting others to sheen in the same way you do.

* * * *
The world, the universe, exist only if you give the mind
Over to the sensory feed and the thoughts it inspires.

* * * *
What is any dogma but mindless regurgitation
Of things that have never mattered,
Of things that never will.

* * * *
Some monkeys get so crazed and violent, so postal,
Because their anguish, their anger, become so all-consuming
That consequences –penalties and costs – lose all meaning, all concern.

* * * *
How interesting it would be to know the stories
Of all the things you have lost, sold, or given away.
To know whether they are still being used and cherished,
Buried in some landfill, or a part of some collector’s potpourri.

* * * *
You may believe all this the intentional working of some supreme-on-high deity,
But even if that is true, it must certainly be subject to the same force underwriting all.
Subject to the same evolutionary process, the same pool in which all attributes ebb and flow.

* * * *
The extraterrestrials will have a great time exploring our relics, watching our movies,
And perusing all the bookstores and libraries that managed to stay open until the pithy end.
We will be big hit in some galaxy far, far away: the little green scholars and twelve-legged bards
Will cast nets far and wide in every sort of speculation about humankind’s rise and fall.

* * * *
Human existence as it is known
Is about the accumulation of imaginary conception.
To release the mind that attains is to relinquish all to the eternal nowness,
The timelessness that is as near to the one and only ultimate reality
As awareness through consciousness is capable of perceiving.
It is to discern that which is prior to all form,
That mystery you truly are.

* * * *
If you are acting out some dogma you are beating a wrong tack.
There is no right way, there is no wrong way,
There is only the Way.

* * * *
How can there be happy endings
When there is no conclusion to anything?
Perhaps happy process, but beginning and endings
Are but the punctuation points of consciousness
Caught in the filament of unfounded notion.

* * * *
Hard enough to transcend your own dogma,
Much less abide the crush of everyone else’s.

* * * *
The joy of youth is ignorance of all the agonies and ecstasies
That lie in wait on the long and winding road ahead.
You never know what you had until it is gone.

* * * *
Sometime you do, sometimes you do not.
Such is the nature of the weather, too.

* * * *
Everyone pooping their vanity
For everyone to see, hear, feel, taste, and smell.
Such a yummy-yum-yum world.

* * * *
How are you not ultimately the same me as me, the same you as you,
The same he as he, the same she as she, the same we as we, the same us as us?
Identification with the body is the pretense, the façade, the charade, of consciousness.
At the source of awareness, prior to consciousness … it is indivisibly … all in one and one in all.

* * * *
The human paradigm, perhaps the paradigm of all existence,
Is about consumption of the given sensory feed: sights, sounds, tastes, smells, textures.
Experiences of every imaginary scope filling every conceivable moment.
Meditation is a state of beingness less about consuming
Than it is riding the streaming wave,
Impassively witnessing the inexplicably timeless mystery,
That which has neither beginning nor end, cause nor purpose, rhyme nor reason.

* * * *
The nothingness of the eternal
Cannot be taught, only learned,
And in the learning, process is all.

* * * *
You can likely carry on despite what others think of you,
Unless, of course, they are willing to beat you up, enslave you, or even kill you,
In which case you should probably tread lightly or even run.

* * * *
Speculation is not truth.
It is all speculation.

* * * *
Words, numbers, notes, lines,
And other such conceptual intrigues
Are the endless playground of imagination.
They cavort with nothing to their heart’s content.

* * * *
To discern the awareness prior to consciousness,
You must look prior to all the perceptions, all the memories,
Prior to all the thoughts drifting willy-nilly in the smoke of imagination.
Consciousness is but an imaginary veil behind which is ever the essence you truly are.

* * * *
What is any history but what some storyteller’s frame of reference imagined,
Coupled with the translation of your frame of reference.
Very dubious from the get-go.

* * * *
Have you ever said or done anything all that different
Than anything said or done countless dreamtimes before and since?
Perhaps, but likely ever so rarely, and really naught but tweaks
In the ever-evolving patterning woven of quantum stardust
In the puddles and jungles of the unfolding long ago.

* * * *
A multi-dimensional tapestry
Too inexplicable for any but god-minds
To but vaguely comprehend.

* * * *
What is the body but a bag of perceptions,
Of memories, of desire, of fears, of agonies, of ecstasies,
All cavorting in eternity’s indivisible stillness in every way imaginable.

* * * *
The future of Eden, incessantly corrupted by the mind of humankind, unfolds,
The purity of its Darwinistic origin forever tainted by the cancer it fostered.

* * * *
And when you do find it,
When you do give your Self over to it,
What then, Grasshopper?

* * * *
The many-faced media has had as much or more of a hand in raising you
As anything your family, community, and education may have done.
It is very much a part of the village in these our modern times.

* * * *
If something is true, it can be verified by many eyes.
Subjective assertions are not the harbor of science.

* * * *
Good and evil are human concoctions.
If you believe they existed before we unleashed upon the world,
You are caught in the mire of delusion.

* * * *
Look where pretending to know
What can never be known
Has brought us,
And is taking us further still.

* * * *
What is any hell but a veil between awareness
And that which is not, never was, will never be.

* * * *
As perfect as the word, the number, the note, the line, the hue, might be,
It is instantly but a perception forever caught in the amber of imagination.

* * * *
The task is to discern the nature of heaven in the hell humankind has made of paradise.
There is no god, there is no devil, there is no good, there is no evil,
There is only consciousness imagining all.

* * * *
Discerning eternal life takes a little more insight than mere belief coupled with hope.
It is always right here, right now, but you must have the astuteness, the wit,
To realize, to perceive, that time is but a notion of consciousness
Masking the eternal here-now, the majestic theater
Within which all manifestation dances.

* * * *
All the so-called scriptures were written by seers and sages
Really no different than anyone who has pondered existence before or since.
We are all cousins of the same puddle responding to the life and times into which we are cast.
The geography, culture, language, technology, and on and on, are inevitably different,
But guaranteed, beyond all doubt, we are all very much the same monkey-mind,
And prior to that, very much the same quantum stardust of all creation.
It is but a veiled, temporal play in which the myriad players
Are, in the ultimate eternal reality, one in the same.

* * * *
Every day another level, another tweak, of degradation.
How much longer will our little mishap in time carry on?

* * * *
Everyone believes whatever lies they want to believe,
Until doubt perhaps gradually sprouts in one corner or another.
And from that moment, who knows where the long and winding road will lead.

* * * *
Civilization is defined as “the stage of human social development and organization that is considered most advanced.”  Civility is defined as “formal politeness and courtesy in behavior or speech.”  If getting along and supporting each other is the goal, the peak of any civilization, any community, any group, is gauged by how many abide the Golden Rule: Do unto others as you would have them do unto you.  No synergy bent on a cooperative, health-giving one-for-all-all-for-one can long sustain without it.


* * * *
* * * *
* * * *


SOUNDBITES


And where, pray tell, is this duality to which your senses and mind are so inclined?

* * * *
It is imagination that consumes itself, as it is in awareness witnessed by its Self.

* * * *
The winds of consciousness are stilled by attention to the awareness through which it blows.

* * * *
Mental illness is the common denominator of the human paradigm.

* * * *
Was the fruit of the garden knowledge or pride, and is there a difference?

* * * *
A foolish, sometimes even dangerous thing, to assume responsibility for what another is thinking.

* * * *
Who can predict where evolution will take this ravaged garden.

* * * *
In the everything of all, what is left undone?  What is not left undone?

* * * *
You are not the thought, you are not the sensation, the manifest theater is but a temporal cloak.

* * * *
Fear not naught, for how frightening can naught be?

* * * *
That you exist is entirely in the head that is not really yours.

* * * *
Always interesting how we enjoy, whether alone or together, hearing ourselves talk.

* * * *
Sometimes the intuitive, sometimes the counterintuitive.

* * * *
Every imaginable vanity skyrocketing exponential.

* * * *
Discernment is all.

* * * *
Imagination feeds upon itself.

* * * *
Is there a fate that inspires you enough to give your life over to it?

* * * *
Is civilization really anything more than organized savagery slathered with pretense?

* * * *
Let us count the ways want and need incessantly appear and disappear.

* * * *
So many stirred pots so quickly forgotten.

* * * *
Products of evolution, of natural selection, nothing more, nothing less, nothing but.

* * * *
S/he who is master of his/her breath is master of his/her universe.

* * * *
What do you and a worm have in common if not the clay of all origins.

* * * *
Projection is all.

* * * *
What else do you so desperately not need?

* * * *
You live the given life, and history does with you what it will, if anything.

* * * *
Awareness, the mother of all dimensions.

* * * *
Another day of the mind in time be done-done-gone-gone-long-long.

* * * *
Life is a game that only matters while it is being played, and more to some than others.

* * * *
We are all beginners here; get over your Self.

* * * *
You are of the source of all things, of all dimensions, of all known and unknown.

* * * *
Losing one or more of the senses can certainly change the context of one’s existence.

* * * *
Pleasure, what of it?

* * * *
Anything created by the mind is of dubious value in the ultimate view of things.

* * * *
Call it feedback.

* * * *
Open up to the vast maw of awareness, inexplicable host to consciousness.

* * * *
And every day you slog on in your little dream of time.

* * * *
All are punish'd.

* * * *
The desire to continue must cease if fear, co-creator of the human mind, is to loose its fell grip.

* * * *
Religion and philosophy are really nothing more than much ado over nothing.

* * * *
What is cold, what is hot, but mortal limitation.

 * * * *
You are the origin, but be very still to discern its no-paradigm paradigm.

* * * *
Oh, indifferent quantum.

* * * *
Neither young nor old, eternally unborn you are.

* * * *
What goals can ever long matter to the mind bent on process its Self?

* * * *
How important anything else when nothing will do?

* * * *
Life is cruel, and more for some than others.

* * * *
You are as likely as forgotten or misplaced or misperceived in their heads as they are in yours.

* * * *
It is your mind; kick the other out.

* * * *
What small gods are divined by the synergy of any given mob.

* * * *
We chat up, we chase, whatever interests us.

* * * *
It is always the first time in the sunshine of the eternal mind.

* * * *
Be formless.

* * * *
You keep coming back, why?

* * * *
Creation is a never-ending spigot of stardust streaming.

* * * *
How can you prove the obvious?  And why would you need to?

* * * *
All problems have a solution … creation … preservation … destruction … all have their moment.

* * * *
History streams on, its passing untarnished by wisdom.

* * * *
Gravity is a jealous lover.

* * * *
The no-knowing mind knows all on the long and winding road.

* * * *
How wearing cruelty and malice.

* * * *
An ideal only means you are not really serious about it.

* * * *
Death is ultimately neither figurative or literal because that which is born can never die.

* * * *
The crows are flying, winter is coming.

* * * *
Faith abides delusion much more happily than doubt.

* * * *
What is not blasphemy to someone somewhere?

* * * *
What you’ve got to do to become your Self, Jesus Christos, what a friggin’ bother.

* * * *
Be the sugar unspun.

* * * *
Another moment closer to that last wheezing breath.

* * * *
The truest believer, the truest faith, is agnostic.

* * * *
Veering away from the time-bound is a rare feat in any mind.

* * * *
So much history to ignore in these our modern times.

* * * *
What is the world but a ceaseless battle between the vested interests of every rhyme and reason.

* * * *
No limits but what consciousness imagines.

* * * *
What’s an asshole got to do to get some respect around here?

* * * *
All that stuff you own: How much you really need, how much do you really use?

* * * *
The no-mountain mountain stands tall in your mind.

* * * *
Emotion is a foggy assumption.

* * * *
Reverence?  Pray tell, for what, when nothing rules the roost.

* * * *
The future has so many issues, it doesn’t even know how many issues it has.

* * * *
Every life an epic.

* * * *
Animals with consciousness, a dangerous combination, indeed.

* * * *
Mastering the mind, what greater challenge?

* * * *
We done killed off just about everything but our own mind.

* * * *
What a fool to be so wise.

* * * *
Sustenance, security, and procreation are the primary directives common to all life forms.

* * * *
A paradigm-shifter, indeed, if you've the eye for it.

* * * *
You think you are … You think you are … You think you are … 

* * * *
After all that, this.

* * * *
What is ego but a psychic barrier built by imagination.

* * * *
One is not without the other.

* * * *
Why would you ever let anyone think for you?

* * * *
Much adoing about nothing.

* * * *
Every generation pays one price or another for its little window of history’s unfolding.

* * * *
The banter of fools is remedied by solitude.

* * * *
It is much less about who you were than who you are.

* * * *
No one conquers a mountain any more than an ant does a picnic table.

* * * *
You were never born; what’s to celebrate?

* * * *
Only in imagination are dreams made true.

* * * *
Takes a lot of discipline to live life well, and even that is no guarantee.

* * * *
Any offer is only as good as its acceptance.

* * * *
Inanity hath no bounds.

* * * *
What is a full life but more to forget.

* * * *
That new is always better is dubious, even shallow notion; the same with old.

* * * *
You can only see as far as imagination allows.

* * * *
Meaning and purpose, why?

* * * *
Life is a gift in which you best be present to win.

* * * *
Yes, folks, it can happen here.

* * * *
This is one whacked out dream, of that there is no denial.

* * * *
Judge and you will find yourself wanting.

* * * *
The ancients painted the broad strokes: modern times color in the nuances.

* * * *
No one is teacher for all.

* * * *
It be a tail wagging the dog world.

* * * *
Wisdom is the game of fools.

* * * *
Is that so?

* * * *
The agnostic mind – completely open to the given moment – is actually the highest spiritual state.

* * * *
What is a bell curve but the graph of any given Ponzi Scheme.

* * * *
Open your mind up to the great expanse of awareness, and you will see it all you.

* * * *
Witness.

* * * *
Why feel the need to be defined by some other’s limits?

* * * *
Eventually even the emptiness is empty.

* * * *
The illicit you eschew today, is a clear conscience tomorrow.

* * * *
Each of us has our own fate in mind.

* * * *
Why would you not take an all-inclusive galactic view in your exploration of this mystery?

* * * *
A quietude emerges, and the lotus mind blossoms.

* * * *
Seriously, how could anything ever really matter?

* * * *
Humankind’s ascension to the summit of the food chain is a bloody heap, indeed.

* * * *
The lie that imagination built is founded upon temporal whimsy.

* * * *
Do not cower at death, the Reaper has no power but through fear.

* * * *
Matter is as matter does, no matter all the while.

* * * *
Good and evil will always require great insight to discern the lack of difference between them.

* * * *
What is beauty but a promise destined to be broken.

* * * *
Empty or full – Empty is as empty does, full is as full does – it is what it is.

* * * *
World weariness is just running out of adrenaline for absurdity.

* * * *
Life is a hardy brew.

* * * *
Natural selection, don’t leave home without it.

* * * *
Feel the Reaper’s breath, soft upon the back of your neck, just below the hairline.

* * * *
Every life form but a means to procreate its genomic sequence.

* * * *
After all that book learning – all those stories, all those facts, all those tools – what next?

* * * *
What is it you so badly want that you will ride the bucking tailspin of the fear it inspires?

* * * *
If you wish to lead, you must become very hard, therefore Buddha.

* * * *
Why not you?

* * * *
What to do when the mind is no longer hungry.

* * * *
How full are you, how much room for more into that which can never be filled?

* * * *
Without imagination, what can there possibly be?

* * * *
Yes, it can happen here.

* * * *
Can you see, can you hear, can you smell, can you taste, can you feel, what you do not know?

* * * *
If you are willing to be honest with your Self, trust that inner voice.


* * * *
Yesterday, today, tomorrow, are merely variations of the ever-present now.

* * * *
All self-imagery is but the lie of imagination.

* * * *
Wit is as witty as irony and paradox allow.

* * * *
To doubt, or not to doubt, that is the question.

* * * *
What is need?  What is want?  And how full is the closet between?

* * * *
Die another now.

* * * *
You are all things, and none of them all the while.

* * * *
Even the gutter has a path to glory.

* * * *
Every life form great to small is but a pattern, a quantum receiving unit in the slot allotted.

* * * *
Justify your existence?  Why?  And to whom?

* * * *
Do nothing well.

* * * *
The show was all but over once Nature became a resource and its vastness owned.

* * * *
No man is an island but he is.

* * * *
What happened at any point of your dreamtime only matters if you hold onto it.

* * * *
Humankind, the ultimate natural disaster.

* * * *
It may or may not be necessarily so much what you do, as the attention to which you give it.

* * * *
Kill them all, no mercy.

* * * *
Is it arrogant to think such thoughts, or arrogant not to?

* * * *
Consuming experience like a waterwheel.

* * * *
Just because you are disturbed hearing something does not mean it is not true.

* * * *
Nothing is like that.

* * * *
No need to pretend something is what it is not, never has been, and will never be.

* * * *
You will care for as long as you feel like caring.

* * * *
A koan is the answer to that for which no answer is available.

* * * *
The fiercest, most frightenng demon is the other born of your own imagination.

* * * *
The harshest lesson of any entitlement is that all someday end.

* * * *
The pen is only mightier than the sword as long as it is sheathed.

* * * *
Sometimes the intuitive, sometime the counterintuitive, irony and paradox at the helm.

* * * *
The superficial always offers an enticing distraction.

* * * *
Why would you need to be any form, much less a human being, ever again?

* * * *
More of what you never wanted that badly in the first place.

* * * *
Fear, where does it take you, and what’s the point?

* * * *
Keep throwing stones into the still pool, and pretty soon it becomes a raging sea.

* * * *
What part can be but in the whole, discern it or not.

* * * *
The eternal awareness, is prior to manifestation, prior to consciousness.

* * * *
Despite what the sensory feed suggests, the universe has never been a linear creation.

* * * *
Life happens until death sees fit to pop the blister.

* * * *
To questions where there are no answers, silence.

* * * *
There is no mind.

* * * *
What is a seer but a seeker minus two letters.

* * * *
Even a gazillion incarnations is ever the same youness.

* * * *
How tiring to pretend interest in things that no longer interest you.

* * * *
It is an awareness too profound for the linear mind caught in time to even begin to conceive.

* * * *
The dead live only in the minds of those who remember.

* * * *
Across every play of mind for all time, it has ever been the same.

* * * *
A gift?  A curse?  Good?  Bad?  What difference, really?

* * * *
Only in the stillness of mind is vanity waylaid.

* * * *
Imagination is the time machine.

* * * *
Wander empty.

* * * *
Time is death, life is eternal.

* * * *
Was oblivion really so vapid that you had to do this to your Self?

* * * *
There is no more: So it goes, deal with it, get over it, move on.

* * * *
What is any history but vanity given the weight of time.

* * * *
Who, what, where, when, why, how … will be the last man or woman or child standing?

* * * *
Do either abused or entitled children ever easily fare well?

* * * *
Nothing stays the same, everything stays the same.

* * * *
Suffer well, friend, suffer well.

* * * *
Since when has any god’s will not been the confabulation of one mind or another?

* * * *
All too predictable for words.

* * * *
Questions without answer hear only their own echoes, and believe them true.

* * * *
Revenge has a long memory, and payback can be meted out in many ways in many tempos.

* * * *
The abyss equally grinds all notions into the indivisible they always were.

* * * *
To what itsy-bitsy slice, to what itsy-bitsy smidgen, of the infinite does the finite pertain?

* * * *
Eternity is an indifferent bull ride upon which no form long stays astride.


* * * *
Both truths and lies are spun from the same nothingness of imagination.

* * * *
Any given technology is only as useful as the person using it.

* * * *
What are words, what is language, but the boundaries of concept, the limitations of imagination.

* * * *
There’s apt to be a few splinters where you’re straddling that fence.

* * * *
Arguing over which imaginary conceptual framework is better, how pointless is that?

* * * *
Nothing has ever happened.

* * * *
That most esoteric doubt launches many a mind into parts unknown.

* * * *
What can exist without the mind melding its eternal creation.

* * * *
Me, my Self, and I in the most absolute sense.

* * * *
Red pill, blue pill, all the same, just a different vision of it.

* * * *
And then the cancer turned upon itself.

* * * *
Does it ring true? the only real question.

* * * *
You are only as free as you allow others to be.

* * * *
What is the whole mind?  What is not the whole mind?

* * * *
Why give a gnat’s ass for some meaningless confabulation?

* * * *
Once upon a time, in a now long ago …

* * * *
In the expanses of eternity, no sound long echoes.

* * * *
Wisdom is the flower of doubt, and doubt the esoteric seed.

* * * *
The seed of doubt, how will it flower?

* * * *
Awareness, through which speeding bullets and rays of light, must pass, to be.

* * * *
What is a the universe but a vast and ever-expanding Petri dish.

* * * *
For everything there is a price for which your mind-body must pay.

* * * *
To be born you must someday die: Is the life you are living worth the price of the ticket?

* * * *
Chew on it however you will, the tasteless is prior to all sensory notions.

* * * *
Details and subtleties, how they do create hells in their rabbit holes.

* * * *
Passion is the root of all evil.

* * * *
Everything appears and disappears within the indivisibility in which all eternally abide.

* * * *
Look with the inner eye at the feast of nothingness set out before you.

* * * *
Smoke gets in your eye.

* * * *
Killing each other over one tribal set or another, how ridiculous is that?

* * * *
How great can the Great Spirit be if it is locked in any form?

* * * *
Discern the indivisible: See it, hear it, taste it, smell it, feel it, be it.

* * * *
How is it that what is, is not enough for so many?

* * * *
How can that which is ever-changing ever be real?

* * * *
Desire and fear are nothing more than habits of the sensory mind-body.

* * * *
Alone, be.

* * * *
To discern whether or not there is mind without mythos is an epic journey of its own.

* * * *
Cut off the head of desire, and what is there left to dread?

* * * *
Forever is nothing more than a projection of vanity.

* * * *
Love is best done unconditionally or not at all.

* * * *
Morality and ethics are the antithesis of our Darwinian roots.

* * * *
A cosmos of one.

* * * *
Fair, the other f-word.

* * * *
Curiosity killed the cat, and it won’t hesitate to take your number, too.

* * * *
Awareness is a still sea through which consciousness is the only churning.

* * * *
History is an albatross, sometimes boon, sometimes bane, to any given modern world.

* * * *
You are not the vehicle; the vehicle is not you.

* * * *
To quantum, or not to quantum, that is the question.

* * * *
Awareness, now, what more is there, really?

* * * *
Dissolve into the one mind where awareness is the eternal all and nothing.

* * * *
Count your blessings, for they may well be more than many can ever hope to be allotted.

* * * *
The creative moment is not something anticipated.

* * * *
No point complaining about that which you did not rise to change.

* * * *
No belief can achieve what you already are.

* * * *
To pretend to know what you cannot: How can you lie to your Self like that?

* * * *
What is the moment but a puff of nothing pretending something.

* * * *
Vague, selective, hazy, imprecise: all memories are like that.

* * * *
Was it you that did it, or you that witnessed the doing?

* * * *
The ripples of all things dystopian will be sloshing large before it is over.

* * * *
Technology only makes the lonely lonelier.

* * * *
Noteworthy to those relatively few who take interest in such things.

* * * *
The joy of the spontaneous-arbitrary is a dance with which only the free tango.

* * * *
Just another megalomaniac, yawn and ho-hum.

* * * *
And what is gray, and what is not gray, need we ask anyone to tell us these things?

* * * *
Your existence works the way your mind works.

* * * *
How can any translation be anything but subjective?

* * * *
It is as finite or infinite as you imagine it to be, and nothing all the while.

* * * *
If only for a short while.

* * * *
Not the same and exactly the same all the while.

* * * *
Any assertion that you are this or that, or that or this, is entirely imagined.

* * * *
If someone gives you his/her best, what more can you ask?

* * * *
It takes a matrix.

* * * *
Discern your fate ultimately no different than any other particle of stardust.

* * * *
Assumptions are not knowing.

* * * *
Passion is but the wind of mind.

* * * *
And what good does caring about so many things really do?

* * * *
Allow your Self to wander the unbidden trails.

* * * *
He who needs least has most; he who wants least endures all.

* * * *
Pass it on, or at least what you can.

* * * *
Perception rides the neuron trails, gradually sculpting them into their nature-nurture fate.

* * * *
And at what point would the wind ever think it existed?

* * * *
For what can any cynic hope but that this is a one-life stand?

* * * *
Dominos rarely fall one at a time, or slowly.

* * * *
Who is ever truly homeless within these carnal shores?

* * * *
How similar forgiveness and execution.

* * * *
No matter how you fill it, time passes in the does-not-matter, matter of it all.

* * * *
What is the sound of dominos falling?

* * * *
As if there is no tomorrow.

* * * *
Is your existence any more than a streaming sack of vaporous habits?

* * * *
What is nirvana but a Self-induced high.

* * * *
Keep listening, keep reading; it may make sense one of these daze.

* * * *
A world filled with media babies.

* * * *
Chances are you are the tool of one entitlement or another, likely many.

* * * *
Mind pouring out on paper.

* * * *
What is pointless?  And what is not pointless?  Need we ask anyone to tell us these things?

* * * *
An awful lot of monkey in there.

* * * *
The world did not matter when your were young, why should it matter now?

* * * *
Of awareness and nothingness, how can they be distinguished as anything but one in the same.

* * * *
Why hold on to a lie?

* * * *
What is church but a lot of good walks missed.

* * * *
Every moment is the spontaneous combustion, the spontaneous selection, of the quantum fever.

* * * *
To whose black and white are you perchance referring?

* * * *
Cannot help a dream that won’t help itself.

* * * *
Indifferent to all creation, you are.

* * * *
What is desire but fantasy that makes the mind-body go round and round in a bath of endorphins.

* * * *
You cannot have the one without the other.

* * * *
Why worship many gods or even one when you are that which is prior to all?

* * * *
Attachment to outcomes is a sure road to perdition.

* * * *
It all so does not matter.

* * * *
And what is caring, and what is not caring, need we ask anyone to tell us these things?

* * * *
If you wander the given moment untrammeled by thought, where are you but the eternal?

* * * *
You are irony, you are paradox, why entertain limitation?

* * * *
The Wanting Game: The no-life spent buying more of what was never needed in the first place.


* * * *
Scientific objectivity is flushed down the drain When funding dictates a self-serving outcome.

* * * *
Beware those who want to lead you.

* * * *
When there's nothing left to eat, we'll eat each other.

* * * *
Why be anything more than what the moment calls for?

* * * *
You can imagine it whatever you will, or just be it, pure and still.

* * * *
It was technology that created the problem; it will not be technology that solves it.

* * * *
Not harming others is a challenge; not harming your mind-body even  more so.

* * * *
The world is really nothing more than a spinning ball of distraction.

* * * *
Ever rending then mending that which is indivisibly flawless.

* * * *
What care blackboards for all the chalky scribblings that come and go like clouds in the sky?

* * * *
Naught but an imaginary dream, the smoke of time wafts where it will.

* * * *
Awareness is the ether in which earth, wind, water, and fire dance in consciousness.

* * * *
When is just enough just enough?

* * * *
Go Blank

* * * *
What is awareness but a bubble of immeasurable potential.

* * * *
Every mind a new genesis.

* * * *
And what indicators are you using to field that little play of delusion?

* * * *
It is your universe; explore it as you will.

* * * *
You have in the ultimate reality always been wrestling with your Self.

* * * *
Consciousness, it can be enjoyable, it can be painful, but not for more than a moment at a time.

* * * *
Immortality of the mortal kind.

* * * *
Looking back in the vague traces of memory, has not the awareness always been the same?

* * * *
The stew of mortality is daily stirred anew.

* * * *
We are all that which is the ultimate, but not in any way we think.

* * * *
A spoonful of anticipation is the best way to solve a problem.

* * * *
A well-rounded, science-based, agnostic education makes for intellectual sobriety.

* * * *
There is no figurative in the inquiry into Self.

* * * *
All fates are sculpted by the same wind.

* * * *
Life is best served raw.

* * * *
A Frankenstein world cannot be undone.

* * * *
Rest assured that your vanity and my vanity are equally absurd.

* * * *
It may be less about what you do than what you be.

* * * *
Any offer requires an acceptance for it not to die on the vine.

* * * *
Time is full of immortalized thinkers, many of whom were likely not all that likeable in person.

* * * *
Round and round the tent you may go, but your assumptions color the show.

* * * *
The winds that sculpt any mind-body are uniquely imagined.

* * * *
What is rational, and what is not rational, need we ask anyone to tell us these things?

* * * *
The things for which we settle in the much ado about nothing.

* * * *
That we relentlessly battle over differences in vibration, how silly is that?

* * * *
Don’t try, do; don’t imitate, be.

* * * *
If you have “woken up” to your satisfaction, who else is there to convince or please?

* * * *
Are you really what you think, are you really what you know?

* * * *
How can intolerance ever do anything but spin into more of the same?

* * * *
Normal is yet another time-bound concept, as real as any other ever is, ever was, will ever be.

* * * *
The best way to deal with problems is to anticipate them before they have a chance to bud.

* * * *
Ultimately you are as wacko as everyone else in this genetic lottery, so humble up, Pilgrim.

* * * *
Stardust in any other form, by any other name, does vibrate the same.

* * * *
Far larger than any puny vision this world has ever inspired.

* * * *
All differences are cast of the same stardust.

* * * *
You are but an ephemeral reflection of the many-faced mystery.

* * * *
What madness so many, by the twists and turns of their nature-nurture, are called to play.

* * * *
It is all you, it is all not you, challenging as it is to endure sometimes.

* * * *
Another snippet for the neuron trail to slice into vague perception.

* * * *
There is no something for those who abide nothing.

* * * *
Is any given life really any more than a footprint in the sand in the middle of a tempest?

* * * *
Such a curious thing how so many live for what others think of them.

* * * *
Hope and pray all you please, but not being prepared is on you.

* * * *
Which tomorrow will it be today?

* * * *
Your lifetime of post-traumatic stress is well-stirred into the hearty stew your mind-body daily endures.

* * * *
Who were you before the world was invented?

* * * *
Same jungle, different metaphors.

* * * *
It may be less about the pain than how it was endured and what it taught.

* * * *
Some daze so immortal, and more than a few not.

* * * *
Is this awake enough for you?

* * * *
Little children can be so cute, and then they grow up.

* * * *
War!  War!  What is it good for?  Well, mayhem and plunder, of course, duh.

* * * *
What is a calling but an inexplicable inclination whose source is unknown.

* * * *
Largeness is a matter of degree, but at what point is something too big or too small?

* * * *
Revenge: Sometimes a long memory thing; sometimes something best remedied quickly.

* * * *
What’s worse than stupid, but annoyingly stupid.

* * * *
Nothing happened again today.

* * * *
You are the hunger for everything; you are its cessation.

* * * *
There may be security in numbers if you are in the right set of numbers.

* * * *
Opinions: everyone’s got them, and all, meaningless as they are, seem real enough at the time.

* * * *
Attitude is all: Innocence can be rekindled if you so choose.

* * * *
Ethical dilemmas and esoteric quandaries are both luxuries of a full belly.

* * * *
All knowing is ultimately nothing more than imagination pretending itself real.

* * * *
The price of the ticket:  Injury, illness, decline, death.

* * * *
In the very still, here-now moment, not a hint of memory is abided.

* * * *
In the ultimate reality, have you ever even once moved?

* * * *
And how would you like spending your entire life in a cage?

* * * *
Nothing happens in a vacuum.

* * * *
And the difference between humankind and Killer Bees is what again?

* * * *
Even a tiny slice of too much is too much sometimes.

* * * *
The optimist’s delusion, the cynic’s joy, the pessimist’s creed, the fool’s preserve.

* * * *
Wind and waves are only different in quantum inflection.

* * * *
If the soul is awareness, is it any less indifferent than the universe from which it is spawned?

* * * *
What is identity but a voluntary assertion.

* * * *
Nobody is anybody without someone else to witness it.

* * * *
There is no higher authority, nor any authority, actually.

* * * *
Freedom is just a word, eternal awareness its only reality.

* * * *
And what else could be said of it?

* * * *
What irony that so many expect of others what they cannot nor would ever do.

* * * *
Same stardust in every eye.

* * * *
Namaste, to all brothers, all sisters, all critters of every hue and cry.

* * * *
History is laced with many a shallow grave.

* * * *
The mystery is neither good nor evil as much as it is indifferent.

* * * *
A worthy aphorism takes you to the hint of the moment that inspired it.

* * * *
Very funny in a very unfunny sort of way.

* * * *
This moment is effortless … All you need do is let go … Bwahahaha …

* * * *
Is the freedom imagined by consciousness really freedom?

* * * *
The tree rings of imagination weave through the dream you play.

* * * *
Is any future but a projected past?

* * * *
All that treasury donated to mere ideas, hopes, and dreams.

* * * *
Creator and creation, how can they be separate in the ultimate sense, really?

* * * *
Can you hear what does not interest you, or what you are not ready for?

* * * *
The quantum plays out every pattern with immaculate perfection.

* * * *
Tyranny hath no bounds but compassion born in the eye of self-refection.

* * * *
In all futures past and all pasts future, you ever are the same eternal nowness.

* * * *
Swimming on two legs in a quantum sea, you are, you are.

* * * *
A little hunger makes everything more tasty.

* * * *
Breathe content, breathe free.

* * * *
Brilliance lights every nuance the mind is capable of harvesting.

* * * *
Might be better to look to your own glass house than to play the judge in so many others.

* * * *
It will never be done.

* * * *
The iron is not well struck when it is cold.

* * * *
What touches you but that which is allowed to weave your thoughts?

* * * *
What is age but the same wind blowing through tattered sails.

* * * *
No one can be that I Am That you are but you.

* * * *
The potential for mindless dogma is a shadow in every thought.

* * * *
Life is bumpy for all, harsh for many, brutal for the unlucky rest.

* * * *
We are all a bit eccentric about ourselves and our worldview, are we not?

* * * *
Nothing romantic about nothing.

* * * *
You need not keep the world in your head all the time.

* * * *
Squeezing out the last few bitter drops: Is that the wisest course of action?

* * * *
The predictability!  The predictability!

* * * *
Just because you do not want to look at it does not make it untrue.

* * * *
Time skewers all.

* * * *
Can’t kill what was never born.

* * * *
Peace is not the opposite of anything; it is the cessation of everything.

* * * *
Boo, I see you.

* * * *
For a few moments, be the inside of your eyelids.

* * * *
The human paradigm is like cement hardening into dystopian chaos.

* * * *
Curiosity does not abide time well.

* * * *
We only get wrinkled and gray on the outside.

* * * *
What’s the saturation point of your realm of consciousness?

* * * *
In every breath, in every step, the unchanging.

* * * *
Alas, that tired old ankle just don’t turn as pretty as it did in that vague way back when.

* * * *
There is but one witness at the source of all things.

* * * *
Awareness is the still hum, the silent Om.

* * * *
Good and evil exist only in consciousness; the ultimate is quite free of either.

* * * *
Locked up in a prison of flesh and bones, you are, you are, until death comes with the key.

* * * *
Cynicism is just seeing things for what they appear to be, not what they are.

* * * *
Best face your demons if you are ever to discern they are nothing but imaginary notions.

* * * *
How sweet the solitude of the cosmic mind.

* * * *
Mum’s the word.

* * * *
How could stars across the cosmos shine so without the light of your awareness?

* * * *
Just because you choose not to go there does not mean it is not there.

* * * *
None alike, all alike.

* * * *
A wedding ring may as well include a ball and chain the way some approach relationship.

* * * *
The eternal moment perceives no wind, no attributes, whatsoever.

* * * *
The co-dependencies ebb and flow unfathomably across the pale.

* * * *
We are all but glimmers of the sun’s glory, and fertilizer for the earth’s abundance.

* * * *
How many names of god are we all the time arguing about, anyway?

* * * *
How can any seed be more than a one-shot blueprint?

* * * *
Anticipation can be far more painful than many a consequence.

* * * *
Death humbles all.

* * * *
Polite applause for a show over-well done.

* * * *
The smoke of consciousness whirls and curls in the sea of awareness.

* * * *
Imagination is the time machine in which you daily travel.

* * * *
That to which you cling is never real.

* * * *
Some secrets should never be told.

* * * *
To be utterly alone in the swirl of consciousness, that is the momentary challenge.

* * * *
This trumps everything.

* * * *
No middleman for these words; you are on your own.

* * * *
Yet another uncoupled couple.

* * * *
Some people just always seem to pick the wrong horses.

* * * *
What is consciousness but eternity playing in time.

* * * *
How accurate is any story, really?

* * * *
You are as infinitesimal or infinite as you imagine.

* * * *
Anticipation is the stagecraft of suffering.

* * * *
The winds of nature-nature partner up to write the program sometimes called fate.

* * * *
Eternity is free, and spent before you know it.

* * * *
Aloneness, be okay with it.

* * * *
What is death but that good night’s sleep for which you have long yearned.

* * * *
Truth is not about dogma, idols, or fairy tales.

* * * *
How did you function before the ascendancy of the ego identity?  Effortlessly, of course.

* * * *
What adaptive effort it takes for all the other critters to survive us.

* * * *
DNA plays out whatever cards are drawn, whatever dice are thrown.

* * * *
It is only other-worldly if you cannot bring it to this one.

* * * *
There is nothing to contemplate.

* * * *
Curious how all other religions are the idolatry of false gods but their own.

* * * *
A child does not build sandcastles but to ward off the King of the Sea.

* * * *
Psst … look … the veil is moving … and you are not.

* * * *
Prior to the passionate mind, a sea of tranquility.

* * * *
Once the door to inquiry is unblocked, the quest will never stop for those bent on truth.

* * * *
A metaphor is only as useful as it is understood.

* * * *
What is meditation if not abiding in the awakened-snooze-button zone?

* * * *
All paths are uncertain, even the known ones.

* * * *
You are the equal witness in all.

* * * *
A exponentially accelerating world in which no solution is viable.

* * * *
We all cherry-pick our modus operandi from those whose lives we travel.

* * * *
History is a ever-leaking bucket of metaphors.

* * * *
More to forget.

* * * *
The emptiness!  The emptiness!

* * * *
It is all you in every shape and time imaginable.

* * * *
Ruminating over what never was, what never will be.

* * * *
A world of personalities; one quantum Soul, one quantum Self.

* * * *
Align with your assumptions, and what do you got?  Bibbidi-Bobbidi-Boo.

* * * *
No response is the response.

* * * *
How my imaginary ego views your imaginary ego is the story between us.

* * * *
Guilt is heady stuff.

* * * *
What is any god-man but the one who realizes the witness within for what it truly is.

* * * *
Vanity is the poof of human egocentricity.

* * * *
Letting go of everything is the living death of eternal life.

* * * *
Easy to be fierce on a keyboard.

* * * *
It is all just a big game of pretend, a make-believe-to-be-or-not-to-be theater from the get-go.

* * * *
So many ways to die; which will be yours?

* * * *
Love is at best a many-splendored paradox, and at worst a cruel hoax.

* * * *
None of this exists, really, so go home whenever it suits you and the given circumstance.

* * * *
What is effortlessness but a calm indifference.

* * * *
By the time you read such as this, you likely have your own show pretty much down.

* * * *
No, that is not you.

* * * *
Though the patterns recycle again and again, no mind can ever think the same.

* * * *
What if you don’t want to care anymore?

* * * *
You are only a prisoner of time if you allow it to reign your mind.

* * * *
Putting the human species on a pedestal is nothing more than self-serving absurdity.

* * * *
Through all potentials, you are.

* * * *
What is belief but believing in so many things; all of it, in fact.

* * * *
Vanity can always find ways to hurt itself if that is its inclination.

* * * *
Eternity cannot be discerned through the veil of time.

* * * *
History is but a fluke of evolution.

* * * *
Easy answers are not necessarily true; true answers are not necessarily easy.

* * * *
Is it even worth arguing about anymore?

* * * *
The mind is a weather system unto its Self.

* * * *
To go postal, or not to go postal, that is the question.

* * * *
The matrix is both infinitesimally and infinitely singular.

* * * *
So committed to our little parts that we die to play them.

* * * *
Doubt is not something that can be inspired or forced.

* * * *
How could any deity-upon-high ever compete with your vanity?

* * * *
Wandering from veil to veil does not for freedom make.

* * * *
Why is it necessary to believe in anything when just being is mystery enough.

* * * *
Saving the world one whale, one bottle cap, one computer chip at a time.

* * * *
What name can withstand the test of timelessness?

* * * *
Sometimes the ocean, sometimes the crashing waves.

* * * *
History is best used as a tool for reflection, not an end in itself.

* * * *
Consequences, consequences.

* * * *
What is betrayal but trust forever lost.

* * * *
Every history a black hole of inaccuracy.

* * * *
The awakening is in each and every moment for those capable of giving it full attention.

* * * *
Martyrdom has a way of sculpting vanity immortal.

* * * *
Technology cannot forever plug the dike of its ever-accelerating exponential creation.

* * * *
God is but another of imagination’s countless inventions.

* * * *
It might be said you can just about do anything if you approach it with due moderation.

* * * *
The Wild West of imagination is without end.

* * * *
Discern the state neither empty nor full.

* * * *
Think streaming in a multi-dimensional, timeless sense.

* * * *
What puny gods to which these mortals bleat.

* * * *
Kick the world out and in aloneness dwell.

* * * *
Stories can disclose great truths, but they can also mask even greater lies.

* * * *
The drama!  The drama!

* * * *
What more could there possibly be but this here, this now, forever.

* * * *
Tears or laughter, it washes out the same.

* * * *
Let go, be free.

* * * *
Many are called, few are chosen, fewer still volunteer.

* * * *
The art of any given creation includes knowing when to stop.

* * * *
Another monkey getting his dime’s worth.

* * * *
A mind washed free of its chatter is a mind in which the eternal life like a lotus abides.

* * * *
And soon it will never have mattered at all.

* * * *
Probably best not to use words like human and sane in the same sentence.

* * * *
Another sacrifice to the Vanities

* * * *
The mind that accumulates only falls into an agony of daily proportion.

* * * *
At what age have you not been you?

* * * *
The creative process is to die for.

* * * *
To day or not to day, that is the question.

* * * *
Rats and cockroaches never had it so good.

* * * *
What is desire but a primal hunger on steroids in consciousness.

* * * *
Does entitlement ever work out well for long?

* * * *
You do not need a piece of paper to doubt a lie.

* * * *
Process is the timeless state of mind from which all artistry is born.

* * * *
Is life war?  Is life peace?  Depends on the given day.

* * * *
What can be wrong about any linguistic spin that conveys meaning?

* * * *
Let pride be someone else’s problem.

* * * *
If you want respect, you must give respect, even if you do not mean it.

* * * *
Another day, same game.

* * * *
Fits right in to the murky edge beyond the pale.

* * * *
Yet another lost generation.

* * * *
Curious how so many have no ability to self-reflect beyond their vanity.

* * * *
Though it is but a brief dream, your mortal fate is unchangeable and inescapable.

* * * *
It is not your pay grade to know.

* * * *
Today is tomorrow in some yesterday.

* * * *
Nothing is true all the time.

* * * *
There is, to be sure, one in everything.

* * * *
The seeker who discerns  and abides that which is sought attains the peace of the eternal mind.

* * * *
Time: A delusion of an illusion.

* * * *
We cannot help our beginnings, only parlay the endings.

* * * *
Suicide is just not waiting for someone or something else to make the inevitable decision. 

* * * *
Details, details, in which hell resides.

* * * *
Haven’t you done that enough?

* * * *
You have already been given the reward: It is called life.

* * * *
In a world of possibilities, the Great Quantum explores all.


* * * *
* * * *
* * * *


POSSIBLE TITLES


Much Adoing About Nothing

* * * *
Cousins of the Same Puddle

* * * *
The Game of Fools

* * * *
The Wisdom of Insecurity

* * * *
The Wisdom of Not Knowing

* * * *
The Wisdom of the Unspoken Moment

* * * *
Willow Wisdom

* * * *
The Host

* * * *
The Maw of Awareness

* * * *
Willow Spirit

* * * *
The Wind of Mind

* * * *
An Amazing Cancer

* * * *
Attitude is All

* * * *
Projection is All

* * * *
Witness

* * * *
The Roaring Mob

* * * *
Of Applause and Other Hollow Sounds

* * * *
The Lie of Hope

* * * *
The Ineffable Me, My Self, and I

* * * *
Screens Down

* * * *
Abide Your Time

* * * *
The Audacity of Self

* * * *
The Black Hole

* * * *
The Blameless Garden

* * * *
The Doomsday Machine

* * * *
That’s Meditation

* * * *
All Alone, Together

* * * *
What If?  What If Not?

* * * *
The Hobby

* * * *
A Tint of Gray

* * * *
The Many-Colored Gray

* * * *
The Gray Rainbow

* * * *
Timeless Time

* * * *
The Great Forgetting

* * * *
The Ever-Changing Constant

* * * *
Doom and Gloom

* * * *
The Constant Ever-Changing

* * * *
Intelligent Design

* * * *
Intelligent Designless

* * * *
The End is Nigh

* * * *
Mind Chatter

* * * *
All Are Punish'd

* * * *
Cynic’s Choice

* * * *
Awareness: The Mother of All Dimensions

* * * *
The Ripples of Time

* * * *
The Time of Ripples

* * * *
Of Then and Now

* * * *
Of Now and Then

* * * *
Till the Morning Comes

* * * *
The Many-Faced God

* * * *
The Many-Sliced Pie

* * * *
(Only) Nothing Last Forever

* * * *
Is That So?

* * * *
Surfing the Ripples of Time

* * * *
Surfing the Time of Ripples

* * * *
Bwahahahahaha

* * * *
Mwahahahahaha

* * * *
The Believer

* * * *
The Atheist

* * * *
The Agnostic

* * * *
The Unspun Sugar

* * * *
The Unspun Mind

* * * *
The Seventh Scoop

* * * *
The Greatest Story Never Told

* * * *
The Mob

* * * *
The Progeny

* * * *
Feedback

* * * *
The Greatest Story Never Known

* * * *
The Cosmic Brew

* * * *
A Tail Wagging the Dog World

* * * *
Babble On

* * * *
The Ultimate Reality

* * * *
The Chronicles of Michael

* * * *
Muad'Dib

* * * *
The Formless You

* * * *
Truth and Consequences

* * * *
The Secret No Mind Knows

* * * *
The Art of Chatter

* * * *
The Chattering Mind

* * * *
The Relativity of All Things

* * * *
The Gift

* * * *
The Hole in the Wall Gang

* * * *
One Wacked Out Dream

* * * *
The Ever-Accelerating Exponential

* * * *
What Color is Your M-16?

* * * *
The Stormy Sea

* * * *
Harlequin Madness

* * * *
The Rush to Nowhere

* * * *
Where’s Waldo?

* * * *
The Sea of Relativity

* * * *
The Blank Page

* * * *
Leave This Page Blank

* * * *
Leave This Drawer Empty

* * * *
The Field of Play

* * * *
The Sideline

* * * *
The Stands

* * * *
The Game Board

* * * *
The Ground


* * * *
Morrowland

* * * *
Commentaries

* * * *
This Bird Has Flown

* * * *
Eternity’s Fill

* * * *
Run Silent, Run Deep

* * * *
Oh Well

* * * *
Dancing on Pinheads

* * * *
The Ineffable Truth

* * * *
Stupid Is As Stupid Does

* * * *
Dumb and Dumber

* * * *
And Dumber Yet

* * * *
For Whom the Bell Tolls

* * * *
One Without Other

* * * *
The Neverending Story

* * * *
The Surging Relativity

* * * *
Matrix Cum Laude 

* * * *
The Great Quantum

* * * *
The Quietude

* * * *
The Ding Bear Principle

* * * *
The Lotus Mind

* * * *
Bring in the Clowns

* * * *
From Womb to Worm's Meat

* * * *
Beyond Worm's Meat

* * * *
The Unknown Known

* * * *
The Known Unknown

* * * *
Sans Nothing

* * * *
The Buoyant Answer

* * * *
The Bell Curve

* * * *
Of Club and Fang

* * * *
The Rise and Fall

* * * *
Of Ascent and Descent

* * * *
The Hardy Brew

* * * *
The Politics of Recognition

* * * *
Koan Madness

* * * *
Passé

* * * *
More Passé

* * * *
Passé on Steroids

* * * *
The Lie That Imagination Built

* * * *
The Eternal Being

* * * *
The Eternal Beingness

* * * *
Awaken the Beast

* * * *
The Charnel House

* * * *
Yes, It Can Happen Here

* * * *
The Revelation

* * * *
Illusions

* * * *
Delusions

* * * *
The Delusions of Illusion

* * * *
The Illusions of Delusion

* * * *
Why Not You?

* * * *
Eternity Unmasked

* * * *
The Lost Tribe

* * * *
The Tribeless Tribe

* * * *
Noblesse Oblige

* * * *
The Quixote Syndrome

* * * *
The Quixote Chronicles

* * * *
The Pastime

* * * *
The Diversion

* * * *
The Distraction

* * * *
Brushing the Broad Strokes

* * * *
Filling in the Details

* * * *
The Quantum Chronicles

* * * *
The Quantum Conspiracy

* * * *
The Quantum Nada

* * * *
The Consumer

* * * *
The Cacophony

* * * *
The Advent of Stardust

* * * *
The Big Bang

* * * *
The Big Crunch

* * * *
The Big Bangless

* * * *
The Big Crunchless

* * * *
The Advent of Stardust

* * * *
Munch, Munch, Munch

* * * * 
Do No Harm

* * * *
Be and Allow

* * * *
The Golden Rule

* * * *
The Golden Calf

* * * *
The Hollow Drum

* * * *
The Latest Attraction

* * * *
The Up and Coming

* * * *
That’s Entertainment

* * * *
Die Another Now

* * * *
Zen Jabber

* * * *
The Domestication of Gaia

* * * *
The Uncivil Civilization

* * * *
Cut to the Chase

* * * *
Do Unto Others As You Would Have Them Do Unto You

* * * *
The Unalterable Moment

* * * *
The Screengrazers

* * * *
Stout Heart

* * * *
The Quantum Interlude

* * * *
The Geezer Chronicles

* * * *
Humankind: The Ultimate Natural Disaster

* * * *
The Paradigm

* * * *
The Paradigm Shift

* * * *
Shift Happens

* * * *
The Forum

* * * *
The Indelible Truth

* * * *
Stargrazers Anonymous

* * * *
Prior to Buddha

* * * *
Beyond Buddha

* * * *
The Brahmin in All

* * * *
The Great Passé

* * * *
The Joyless Strap-On

* * * *
Shit Happens

* * * *
Life Happens

* * * *
The Epiphany

* * * *
Older Than the Stars, Younger Than the Moment

* * * *
Wander Empty


* * * *
The Seed of Doubt

* * * *
The Flowering of Doubt

* * * *
The End of Doubt

* * * *
¡Viva la Revolución!

* * * *
The Seedling

* * * *
Touché!

* * * *
Les Misérables

* * * *
The Other Side of Luther’s Door

* * * *
Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious

* * * *
Watermelon Sugar

* * * *
The Partial Mind

* * * *
The Whole Mind

* * * *
The Miasma of Human Consciousness

* * * *
The Mothership Chronicles

* * * *
The Maelstrom of Human Consciousness

* * * *
The Usual Suspects

* * * *
Paradigms of Consciousness

* * * *
The Eye Within

* * * *
These Eyes

* * * *
The Worthy Long Shot

* * * *
The Dog’s Life

* * * *
The Cat’s Life

* * * *
Imbibing the Moment

* * * *
Drift Eternal

* * * *
The Gaia Chronicles

* * * *
The Wonder

* * * *
The Esoteric Seed

* * * *
Patterns Within Patterns Within Patterns

* * * *
The Esoteric Nada

* * * *
Portal to the Stars

* * * *
The Dress Code

* * * *
The Language

* * * *
The Mythos

* * * *
The Meme

* * * *
The Great Whatever

* * * *
Portal to the Indivisible

* * * *
The Great Spirit

* * * *
Smoke Gets In Your Eye

* * * *
Awareness Unchained

* * * *
The Great Fall

* * * *
The Domino Theorem

* * * *
Quipmeister

* * * *
The Coily-Roily

* * * *
The Ubiquitous You

* * * *
Take the Red Pill

* * * *
Take the Blue Pill

* * * *
The Riddler

* * * *
The Koanster

* * * *
Tranquility

* * * *
Serenity

* * * *
Bliss

* * * *
Eternity

* * * *
A Fistful of Neurons

* * * *
A Few Neurons More

* * * *
Namaste

* * * *
Of Hells and Heavens

* * * *
The Immeasurable You

* * * *
The Quantum Paradise

* * * *
Dante’s Quest

* * * *
Master Brat

* * * *
The Life Eternal

* * * *
Ignorance Lost

* * * *
The Russian Doll Syndrome

* * * *
The Flurry of Imagination

* * * *
The Indivisible Divide

* * * *
Hot Air and Vanity

* * * *
Bother

* * * *
The Horror! The Horror!

* * * *
The Absurdity! The Absurdity!

* * * *
The Bother! The Bother!

* * * *
A Fistful of Minions

* * * *
A Few Minions More

* * * *
Quantum Dream, Quantum Dreamer

* * * *
The Indiscernible Dimensionless

* * * *
A Quantum Accounting

* * * *
The Sea of Remedy

* * * *
The Sensory Feed

* * * *
The Central Processing Unit


* * * *
A Fistful of Breadcrumbs


* * * *
A Few Breadcrumbs More

* * * *
Go Placidly Amid the Noise and Haste

* * * *
The Observer

* * * *
The Watcher

* * * *
The Dreamer

* * * *
The Narrator

* * * *
The Storyteller

* * * *
The Opening

* * * *
The Middlegame

* * * *
The Endgame

* * * *
The Gita

* * * *
The Entrepreneur

* * * *
Yet Another Round of Irony and Paradox

* * * *
The End of Obligation

* * * *
The Dharma Bum

* * * *
The Book of the Dead

* * * *
The Old Man and the Sea

* * * *
The Hedonist

* * * *
Another Testament

* * * *
The End of More

* * * *
The Young and the Hungry

* * * *
The Accountant

* * * *
The Statistician

* * * *
The Bookkeeper

* * * *
The Lie Within the Promise.

* * * *
The God Eye


* * * *
The Quantum Paradigm

* * * *
A Cosmos of One

* * * *
The Relativity Bag

* * * *
The Sound of Dominos Falling

* * * *
The Rendering

* * * *
The Ever-Changing

* * * *
The Insatiable Hunger

* * * *
It Takes a Matrix

* * * *
The Human Becoming

* * * *
The Rat Wheel

* * * *
The Dusty Dream

* * * *
The Dusty Dreamer

* * * *
The Timeless Mind

* * * *
The Caring Game

* * * *
The Lies to Which We Cling

* * * *
The Carnal Shores

* * * *
Mind Interrupted

* * * *
The Latitude Attitude

* * * *
The Long Nap

* * * *
Soul Quest

* * * *
Someone Else's Jesus

* * * *
The Frisbee Dog

* * * *
The Ever-Present Mind

* * * *
The Sword Rarely Drawn

* * * *
Maybe in a Vacuum

* * * *
Contentment: The Final Task

* * * *
Awareness is All

* * * *
The Wayward Penny

* * * *
A Puff of Nothing

* * * *
The Art of Chatter

* * * *
The Media Babies

* * * *
The Roiling Monkey

* * * *
Escape from Prison Earth

* * * *
Of Known and Unknown

* * * *
Name That Meme

* * * *
The Ethereal Now

* * * *
A Taste of Mind

* * * *
Ether Dance

* * * *
A Bubble ‘O Being

* * * *
A Wee Mind in Time

* * * *
The Many-Faced Other

* * * *
A Wee Footprint

* * * *
A Wee Footnote

* * * *
Blade Walker

* * * *
Waiting for the Reaper

* * * *
Hey There, Monkey Breath

* * * *
Seen enough

* * * *
Seen Too Much

* * * *
And More Still

* * * *
A Frankenstein World

* * * *
Cut to the Gist

* * * *
A Traitor’s Heart

* * * *
Michael’s Way

* * * *
A Fool’s Errand

* * * *
Any Given Now

* * * *
Spoiler Alert

* * * *
The Quantum Upshot

* * * *
The Metaphor, the Analogy, the Simile

* * * *
A Fistful of Metaphors

* * * *
A Few Metaphors More

* * * *
The Dogmatic Mind

* * * *
The Blade of Discernment

* * * *
Bullshit and Other Cow Patty News

* * * *
Th-Th-Th-That's All Folks.

* * * *
The Fate of Fates

* * * *
Vanity Faire

* * * *
The Nary Moment

* * * *
The Oblivion Trails

* * * *
The Insoluble Quandary

* * * *
The Equal Witness

* * * *
The Wanting Game 

* * * *
The Cynic’s Heart

* * * *
The Cookie Cutter

* * * *
The Nebulous Moi

* * * *
The Tree Rings of Imagination

* * * *
Everything All the While

* * * *
Nothing All the While

* * * *
Effing the Ineffable

* * * *
More Effing the Ineffable

* * * *
Even More Effing the Ineffable

* * * *
The First and Last Witness

* * * *
One Life to Live

* * * *
The Order of Mayhem

* * * *
Joe Everyman

* * * *
The Moving Veil

* * * *
Monkey See, Monkey Do

* * * *
The Reckoning

* * * *
The Witness

* * * *
The Great Solitude

* * * *
The End of Vanity

* * * *
Civility

* * * *
The Grand Indifference

* * * *
Nobody’s Savior

* * * *
A Universe Undone

* * * *
Stardust in Every Eye

* * * *
Smoke and Mirrors

* * * *
The Philosopher's Stone

* * * *
The Cynic’s Joy

* * * *
The Pessimist’s Creed

* * * *
The Fool’s Preserve

* * * *
Center Stage

* * * *
The Relative and the Absolute

* * * *
Dream Weaver

* * * *
Once Is Enough

* * * *
Never Again

* * * *
The Existential Life

* * * *
A Fistful of Differences

* * * *
A Few Differences More

* * * *
Where Vanity Ends

* * * *
The Dissolution

* * * *
The Harvest

* * * *
The Wearing Games

* * * *
The Quantum Mind

* * * *
A Cautionary Tale

* * * *
The Problem With Solutions

* * * *
Ebb and Flow

* * * *
The Nuances of Consciousness

* * * *
Mister Just-in-Case

* * * *
Note to Self

* * * *
The Awareness

* * * *
A Case of Mistaken Identity

* * * *
Prayer’s End

* * * *
Quantumstiltskin

* * * *
The Insoluble Problem

* * * *
The Ponzi Mind

* * * *
The Game of Life

* * * *
Quantum Stardust

* * * *
Bringing in the Sheaves

* * * *
The Decline and Fall

* * * *
Blazing Neurons

* * * *
Entitlement’s End

* * * *
The Ferryman

* * * *
The Charioteer

* * * *
The Imagination Paradox

* * * *
The Irony of Imagination

* * * *
The Philosopher

* * * *
The Mystic

* * * *
You Are That I Am

* * * *
The Egocentric Mind

* * * *
The Emptiness of Death

* * * *
The Worldview

* * * *
Mum’s the Word

* * * *
Of Monkeys and Men

* * * *
The Nitty-Gritty

* * * *
A Prison of Flesh & Bones

* * * *
The Cosmic Mind

* * * *
The Brass Tacks

* * * *
The Nuts and Bolts

* * * *
The Bare Essentials

* * * *
Discernment

* * * *
The Grand Delusion

* * * *
The Neuron Tales

* * * *
The Brass Ring

* * * *
Arjuna’s Sword

* * * *
The Mists of Avalon

* * * *
The Mists of Quantum

* * * *
The Anarchy Tales

* * * *
A Quantum Share

* * * *
Perchance to Sleep

* * * *
The Grand Indifference

* * * *
Dude Krishna

* * * *
The Quantum Mists

* * * *
Neuron Trails

* * * *
All Things Quantum

* * * *
The Planet of the Apes

* * * *
A Little Slice of Eternity

* * * *
Be Here Now

* * * *
The Last Vanity

* * * *
Metamorphosis

* * * *
For the Lack of a Better Word

* * * *
The Hollow Game

* * * *
Dissolution

* * * *
A Silly Little Game

* * * *
Slaves to the Womb

* * * *
The Young and the Restless

* * * *
The Amber of Imagination

* * * *
The Corporal Reality

* * * *
Divergence

* * * *
The End of Speculation

* * * *
The Tumor of Mind

* * * *
The Linear Mind

* * * *
The Unraveling

* * * *
Puddles and Jungles

* * * *
The Gluttony Games

* * * *
Leviathan

* * * *
The Dystopian Nightmare

* * * *
The Loss Leader

* * * *
Eternity’s Cry Out

* * * *
The Tangential Mind

* * * *
Parachutes Anonymous

* * * *
Unmasked

* * * *
The Asymmetric Mind

* * * *
Bingo

* * * *
Bedazzled Again

* * * *
The Last Chore

* * * *
The Dubious Reward

* * * *
Of Screens, Filters and Veils

* * * *
The Tower of Babble

* * * *
Innocence Lost

* * * *
The Marque of Mind

* * * *
The Great Yowza

* * * *
Mammon Rules

* * * *
Beyond Tears

* * * *
The Halls of Sarlo

* * * *
Sans Nothing

* * * *
The Inherent Freedom

* * * *
A Loser’s Paradise

* * * *
Revenge of the Widgets

* * * *
The World Weary

* * * *
Fatwa This

* * * *
The Human Concoction

* * * *
A Tale of Two Minds

* * * *
Assumptions All

* * * *
The Wagging Tail

* * * *
The Quietude

* * * *
War and Peace

* * * *
A Drifter’s Tale

* * * *
Paradise Lost

* * * *
The Moot Moment

* * * *
The Hiccup of Time

* * * *
Crashin’ and Burnin’

* * * *
There and Back

* * * *
The Rise and Fall

* * * *
Unnatural Selection

* * * *
The Tapestry

* * * *
Before the Fall

* * * *
Of Human Absurdity

* * * *
Heralds of the Fall

* * * *
The Fires of Vanity

* * * *
The Towering Inferno

* * * *
Absurdity the Wordity

* * * *
The Threads of Stardust

* * * *
Gnat Wings

* * * *
Martyrdom: The Ultimate Vanity


* * * *
* * * *
* * * *


COROLLARIES


Arthur C. Clarke (2001: A Space Odyssey):
Then he [The Star Child] waited,
Marshaling his thoughts and brooding over his still untested powers.
For though he was master of the world, he was not quite sure what to do next.
But he would think of something.
Yaj Ekim's Corollary:
Still thinking.

* * * *
Chuang-Tzu (The Butterfly as Companion):
Once upon a time, I dreamt I was a butterfly, fluttering hither and thither, to all intents and purposes a butterfly.  I was conscious only of my happiness as a butterfly, unaware that I was myself.  Soon I awaked, and there I was, veritably myself again.  Now I do not know whether I was then a man dreaming I was a butterfly, or whether I am now a butterfly, dreaming I am a man.
Yaj Ekim's Corollary:
Or neither dreaming both.

* * * *
Yoda:
Try not.  Do, or do not.  There is no try.
Yaj Ekim’s Corollary:
Do what?

* * * *
William Makepeace Thackeray:
There are a thousand thoughts lying within a man
that he doe not know till he takes up the pen to write.
Yaj Ekim's Corollary:
Only a thousand?

* * * *
Melvin Udall (Jack Nicholson) (As Good as It Gets):
[to a group of depressed psychiatric patients]
What if this is as good as it gets?
Yaj Ekim's Corollary:
How could it be any better?

* * * *
Kilgore Trout (a.k.a. Kurt Vonnegut) in “Timequake”
Men are jerks.  Women are psychotic.
Yaj Ekim's Corollary:
The Good, the Bad and the Ugly,
A Fistful of Chromosomes, A Few Chromosomes More.

* * * *
Harvey Logan (Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid):
Rules!? In a knife fight!?
Yaj Ekim:
Rules!? In this world!?

* * * *
Anon:
Money cannot buy happiness.
Yaj Ekim:
Then how am I supposed to get my bottle of Jack?

* * * *
Curly (City Slickers):
The day ain’t over yet.
Yaj Ekim:
Waah!

* * * *
Sarlo:
Effing the Ineffable.
Yaj Ekim’s Corollary:
Effing away.

* * * *
Thomas Hobbes:
… and the life of man, solitary, poor, nasty, brutish, and short.
Yaj Ekim’s Corollary:
So it goes, deal with it, get over it, move on.

* * * *
Jane Smith (Angela Jolie in “Mr. & Mrs. Smth”):
Happy endings are just stories that haven't finished yet.
Yaj Ekim’s Corollary:
Uh-oh.


* * * *
* * * *
* * * *


POSSIBLE LAST WORDS & EPITAPHS


Please, please, no, no!   Don’t send me back!

* * * *
It has to end someday, why not today?

* * * *
Th-th-th-that's all folks

* * * *
It is done

* * * *
Never again

* * * *
Suffer me not another day

* * * *
Sum quod eris
(I am what you will be)


* * * *
* * * *
* * * *


BREADCRUMBS


Quietly leaving a fair amount of babble and banter for others to stumble upon or not,
And argue over or not, or discern true or not, or whatever or not.
No matter to me in the end, really,
Especially once I am the dust beyond worm’s meat.

* * * *
Few ever know of writings such as these in the time they are written.
It is for history to note whether or not they unfurled in the winds of consciousness.
Will they be known, will they be lauded, will they be reviled, will they play any meaningful part?
Or will they merely have been an amusing pastime of yet another forgotten mind?

* * * *
It is not about me, unless you are referring to the me that is you
And everything else, in this unfathomable matrix cum laude.

* * * *
What to do when existence no longer matters,
Assuming it ever really did.
One of my standard coffee shop one-liners:
If I knew I wasn’t going to wake up tomorrow, I’d go to bed early.

* * * *
I Am, therefore I babble.

* * * *
Peter Pan don’t even rank choir boy in this make-believe mind.

* * * *
Who better suited to anonymity?

* * * *
God better hope he doesn’t exist because I’m going to punch him in the nose big-time if he does.

* * * *
The word acquisition program is ebbing and flowing into decline.
Synapse collapse is pale-riding this direction.
Joy for manifest oblivion.

* * * *
With great intention, these words perchance influence the world to come.

* * * *
Die, motherfucker, die.

* * * *
Same old me, my Self, and I, streaming away in dreamtime’s busy-busy.

* * * *
The stillness before time, a.k.a. the silliness of time.

* * * *
Passing the time in whatever way happenstance allows.


* * * *
A rich man's life on a dime.

* * * * 
All these thoughts have come of their own accord.
Some sort of stream-of-consciousness-word-association-channeling thing.
And as much as I dislike using that jargon with all its new-age-babble connotations and affiliations,
It is, regrettably, one of the more accurate ways to describe the process.

* * * *
Not interested enough in the future to plant a seed to witness it, sorry ladies.

* * * *
Be wary what you weave, Dreamweaver, for you must wear it for as long as awhile whiles.

* * * *
Jesus Fucking Christos, how did these yahoos ever get put in charge of anything?

* * * *
It has been an remarkable thing to exist, to be a witness to the incomprehensibility of it all,
This imaginary game of make-believe in an illusory, dualistic, space-time continuum.
But I am long over this little touchy-feely, three-dimensional, dreamtime matrix.
I yearn for oblivion, for nothingness, and am only putting up with existence
Until the body-mind becomes too agonizing, or the world too annoying,
To want to bother about waking up to battle windmills ever again.
Alas, I am a tad afraid life is akin to a cold that won’t go away,
A case of “you-can-check-out-any-time-you-like-but-you-can-never-leave.”
Not me in the manifest-worldly-time-bound sense, of course, but me ever just the same.

* * * *
This is how it seems to me, though I could be wrong.
Nah! … It has to be this outlandish to get me aboard.

* * * *
Am as indifferent as possible as often as possible to whatever degree consciousness allows.

* * * *
The older I get, the more insane it seems.

* * * *
Yet another character binge.

* * * *
Got enough crap in this head without daily adding more than necessary.

* * * *
Death and taxes … Pfft!

* * * *
Pay no attention to that man behind the curtain.

* * * *
Know your Self, and you will know me.

* * * *
Doing what I do may get you into trouble unless you are smart about it, and lucky.

* * * *
Hope all's well, or at least well enough.

* * * *
The Great Oz would know, and Billy Pilgrim, too.

* * * *
Nope, I am not Buddha, nor any other historically significant noteworthy.
This round, I am called Michael, sometimes Mike, and Holzblowzer by Blane.
Rose-by-any-other-name monikers that have well-served this mundane existence.

* * * *
Whoever would have guessed, whoever would have thought,
Little old rural-small-town-quiet-studious-farm-boy moi
Would grow up to be a philosopher-seer kind of guy?

* * * *
How typical, how predictable, how mundane, how absurd,
He thought to himself, not for the first or last time that day.

* * * *
All your life, you have been trying to figure out what you wanted to do.
Guess this is it.

* * * *
It is all just a rough draft until the last wheezing breath.

* * * *
No idea, and don’t need one.

* * * *
Yeah, fuck you, too, you pendejo mother fuckin’ asshole son of a bitch.
Congratulations on being yet another honorable mention
On my “People Who Need to Die Badly” list.

* * * *
Yes, I enjoy hearing my Self talk, what of it?

* * * *
All I do is open up ye old inner eye to the expanse of awareness,
And yet another brain wave ditties into consciousness
For this busy mind to occupy its wayward way.
Tick … tick … tick … can’t help my Self.

* * * *
Rest assured that the Great Quantum,
No doubt as wayward a roguish scalawag as I,
Finds my inflated bubble of dreamtime tolerably amusing.

* * * *
You keep on asserting that you know where infinity begins, and where it ends.
That the unknown can be known, that truth can be possessed,
That space-time is real, and you are, too.
You make me laugh plenty hah-hah hard, Pilgrim.

* * * *
Unpaid work, but work ever just the same, when it’s not play.
My little offering, free of charge, to the dream of time.
Take it or leave it, leave it or take it, as you will.

* * * *
Mixin’ and matchin’ from ye old frame of reference,
A wild and wanton maelstrom from which these many ditties
Bubble into beingness in the double-double-toil-and-trouble of it all.

* * * *
Less and less do I daily know.

* * * *
Not interested in lying to you.

* * * *
An great number of observations on how this mind, these eyes, discern it,
All out there for the progeny of humankind to apprehend or not.
It is a peculiar thing to bequeath such a body of work,
With no idea what will come of it, if anything.
A legacy, the true value of which is left for time to tell.

* * * *
A Rumpelstiltskin, I am, I am, a mischievous sprite of the two-legged kind,
Putting together all these ditties for what time may or may not come,
From the straw of this mind’s harvest, a task for which this life
Was into spontaneous serendipity and happenstance cast.

* * * *
A jester in a joker’s dream.

* * * *
So much effort for something so few will likely ever read.

* * * *
Whoo-hoo for an existence for which I do not recall ever asking.
What the blankety-blank am I still doing in this absurdity asylum?

* * * *
Yes, the long-ago almond orchard epiphany moment was indeed amazing,
But ultimately no different than any humbling sit-down on a porcelain throne.

* * * *
Another day of offering sage advice to a world
That has neither the eyes to see or ears to hear it.

* * * *
Namaste to you, too, Bitch.

* * * *
What a fucking madhouse this world has become, and only daily more and more frenetic.

* * * *
The Wall of Irony and Paradox gets another memento.

* * * *
Always interesting to contemplate
What it took for our kind to rise up and conquer this world,
And use and abuse it in whatever way the tool-maker mind, in all its self-absorption, deigned.

* * * *
Have always had an amazing knack in any work or play learning curve
At making a variety of mistakes and finding out all that can go wrong.

* * * *
All these many, many thoughts, few will ever even begin to contemplate.
Like an unwitnessed babbling brook, or a tree falling alone,
Were they ever even thought, ever even written?

* * * *
I am every filter the capacities and limitations of this mind will allow into its frame of reference:
Philosopher, scientist, historian, anthropologist, psychologist, sociologist,
Politician, warrior, and on and on the list daily grows.

* * * *
Fatwa this.

* * * *
Nature is my god, and to do good – or at least as little harm as possible – is my religion.

* * * *
The joy of my world is that it is your world now – Rotsa ruck, Pilgrim.

* * * *
‘Tis the un-followers who I quest,
The ones who are able to endure alone
And discern things clearly with their own eye.
Our frames of reference may well be universes apart,
But we will ever fathom truth enough the same to be at peace.


* * * *
Done run out of caring past a certain point.
Life has become more of an academic laboratory,
More of an intellectual, intangible, philosophical reverie.

* * * *
Imagine, if you will, a shapeshifting alien living here among you,
Watching, chronicling, your peculiar little human theater,
Waiting impatiently for the mother ship to return.
Alas, that it was destroyed by an asteroid,
And his whereabouts unknown to the mother world.

* * * *
It might be easily argued that in the world unfolding in these our times,
The most merciful thing you can do for your children
Is to smother them in their sleep.

* * * *
Get behind me, true believers, get behind me.

* * * *
Seemingly a neverending work, these writings, at least until death do I disincorporate.

* * * *
Prove me wrong, boys and girls, prove me wrong.

* * * *
Always interesting to see how these many ditties play out as they come to mind:
As they are first written down, what happens in translation when they are transcribed,
What happens when they are edited, how they are read, if they even are read.
Any given ditty can mutate into something very different at any stage
From the original thought first bubbled into consciousness.

* * * *
Why and how these many thoughts keep coming to mind
Is a question for which I have no answer, other than to say nothing else calls.
To be an observer of existence, a truth-seeker, a philosopher, a seer,
Is to be all but done with the dreams of consciousness.

* * * *
Another ditty lost back into the formless mists of mind.
Easy come, easy go.

* * * *
You’re not by any chance a terrorist following me with a dull, rusty knife, are you?
Not a question to ask anyone with hallmark features and or behaviors of Arab descent.

* * * *
One wonders how many women have sons
In an attempt to bring their husbands into line,
And daughters, to assert power over their mothers.

* * * *
To wake up as many times as possible
Before the final breath wanes
Is this mind’s Soul goal,
Until eternal sleep
Sets its final course adieu.

* * * *
The old “Ice Station Zebra” paradigm: Play it out as if it never happened.

* * * *
Oh, for the daze when the middle class life was a cave or a limb.

* * * *
Master brat.

* * * *
A semi-detached observer.

* * * *
If it is to stand the test of time, it must stand on its own merit.

* * * *
He woke with a dash of hope, but it being only four letters, did not last long.

* * * *
I am me, you am me, we am me, all together, one.

* * * *
Saw a smidgeon of hope today,  and I scrunched it before  it could even squeak.

* * * *
What is herein written, what is herein imparted, is from me to my Self,
In whatever other, in whatever geography, in whatever future past.
Stand upon my shoulders, and gaze out even further if you can.

* * * *
If you have not already realized it,
This is one of those serendipitous creations
In which you often seem to happen upon a reflection
That you in time are most primed to mull.

* * * *
Believe you me, I have given in to every enticing distraction,
And it is always the inner awareness to which I return.
A marriage to my Self that can never be escaped,
No matter how tempting the siren’s song.

* * * *
Addressing the endless stream of calamities
That have created so much confusion and adversity,
To whatever endgame the synergy of consciousness chooses.

* * * *
No doubt some would deposit this scribe in a shallow grave
If they were to comprehend these many thoughts are analogous
To the folktale of the lone stonecutter bit by bit by bit chipping away
Deep within the bowels of the imaginary mountain.

* * * *
From the infinitesimal moment all creation began, through all that has taken place since,
It all had to happen for you to have this relatively brief, temporal opportunity to awaken,
So gracias to all you countless others, across time, across space, who played your vital part.

* * * *
Those born after the Great Fall
May discern it in their best interest
To give attention to these many insights,
Both to aid in comprehending what happened,
And to clearly discern what it will take
To re-align with the Garden
From which life,
With so little inhibition,
Manifests in every form imaginable.

* * * *
A word of warning to the young: Avoid doing really dumbass things whenever possible.
If what you are undertaking is akin to walking eyes-closed across a busy freeway,
Then it might be best to do some checking in with your common sense meter.
That is assuming, of course, that you want to arrive at some ripe old age
In a reasonably healthy body with a reasonably functioning mind.
And rest assured, this is a “do what I say, not what I did” suggestion.

* * * *
My bargain with God and the Devil,
One in the same as far as I play it,
Are just leave me the fuck alone.

* * * *
As content as the mind in time will allow.

* * * *
Likely more of a personal online scrapbook than anything of history-making consequence.

* * * *
This does not need to happen to this eye again.

* * * *
My little yellow stain in the ever-shifting sands of time.

* * * *
I will Johnny-Appleseed these many thoughts in as many ways and places as possible.
Whether or not you will happen upon them is for the dream to manage however it will.

* * * *
Some saint of lost causes I am not.

* * * *
Indifferent to all creation, I am.

* * * *
The ink spreads as the thoughts bubble from stillness personified.

* * * *
Oh, how I do long for simpler daze.

* * * *
Free to me, free to you, for what it’s worth.

* * * *
Anyone who would "follow” me or anyone else
Best stand more than a few paces away
If they do not want a boot up their vacuous derrière.
Will abide good friendships, but no disciples, no devotees, no apostles,
No adherents, no evangelists, no proselytizers, no apologists, no missionaries, in this camp.

* * * *
Ornery's not the word for it.

* * * *
If there is some sort of supreme deity, and he/she/it wants/needs me to subscribe,
To believe, to follow, to conform, to idolize, to worry, to dread, to worship, to serve, to witness,
Then he/she/it needs to speak up much louder in a much, much more convincing way.

* * * *
What I was trying to say, and obviously did not convey well …

* * * *
Never had any ambition to be a writer.
Not worth a tinker’s damn as any sort of storyteller or poet,
And do not even talk to me about the inane tediousness of mind-numbing bureaucratize.
The mortal cabaret just sort of happenstanced this mind philosophical,
And pen is only put to paper when some earnest thought
Has gamboled into the given here now.

* * * *
A traitor to the human paradigm.

* * * *
What would have happened to all these thoughts
If they had been written a few thousand years ago,
During the earlier stages of the human contagion.
How quickly Ponzi schemes sideline late-comers.

* * * *
The pleasure of retirement, for those who are able,
Is to be willing to say – happily, without hesitation – fuck it all.
To play the given moment – being not, caring not – until death do they part.

* * * *
I am often almost forgetting me;
Why should I hope more of anyone else?
History is nothing more than the imaginary realm
Of the many-faced other.

* * * *
A wee little footnote in the play of imagination.

* * * *
You may well not agree about everything I have written,
But in the immortal words of Curly: The day ain’t over yet.

* * * *
It is the fourth quarter, and the shoals ahead are getting kind of dark and scary.

* * * *
What better way to waste one’s time than by writing thoughts few will ever read.

* * * *
I am, therefore I nap.

* * * *
I rest assured that I am the only one who is ever going to ever read all this silliness,
Likely more than several times each as they ply their way from scribble to digital.
* * * *
Every day I offer thanks to the all-knowing, all-seeing deity on high
That the genetic lottery cast me as a moderately bright Caucasian male,
And Roman citizen, within the perimeter of Rome’s prodigious dronosphere.
An awful lot of people want to off us, but two oceans and a well-stocked arsenal,
Instead supercalifragilisticexpialidociously enable us to gradually decay from within.

* * * *
Not a storyteller, sorry, and my story is not all that interesting
Unless you are a watcher watching the show play however it plays.

* * * *
Watching the human drama play out with something of an abstract indifference,
The indoctrination of a temperament established by the Church of Reason
Long before educational theory was set down from mind to paper.

* * * *
Nothing moves me but curmudgeony thoughts, and they less and less.
Slowly,  slowly, I am melting into the oblivion I have so earnestly advocated.

* * * *
Zeroes beyond the pale to left of the decimal.
Zeroes beyond the pale to the right of the decimal.
Makes my wee little noggin do the brain-freeze owwie.

* * * *
All this is more enjoyable to write and edit than it is to read.

* * * *
Even I doubt my Self as often as not.

* * * *
These spontaneous little ditties just keep rolling out
One by one in any given moment, in any given place.
This existence has indeed been an inexplicable voyage.

* * * *
Lot of universe a-happening out there.
I am content let everyone else do most of it.

* * * *
There is still work to do in this Sisyphean tale,
Else I could easily call it good and throw in the cards.
What experience is left that cannot to some degree be grasped?
That is not already somewhere within the curve of the statistical sample?

* * * *
A minimalist when there was minimal around and about,
And a hedonist whenever opportunity even softly knocked.

* * * *
You want me to spin what lie, again?

* * * *
Nothing interests me.

* * * *
Am not sure that I have ever really been much of a human being.
In light of how I have come to see things, that may not be a bad thing.

* * * *
Best not to ever put me in charge of any future past.
Guillotines would churn 24/7/365 for years to come.
Evil would lament the day I was given such power,
And the Seven Deadly Sins only marginally less so.
I know them too well to abide them in my theater.
Mwahahahaha …

* * * *
Twenty-five-plus years of mind-chatter, and the day ain’t over.

* * * *
All gibberish, really, fills the time.

* * * *
Does what I have to say have merit in the future unfolding?
Many have it, many enjoy it, but will many pass it on?
The questions any thinker must certainly wonder.
It is a vanity, but alas, oh well, I am vain, too.

* * * *
It is all yours, I do not want to care anymore, rotsa ruck.

* * * *
What effort it sometimes takes to greet the day.

* * * *
A universe too big, and a tongue too small.

* * * *
A somewhat cynical perspective
To those who embrace the optimism of hope.
Most definitely not a cheerleader for this world-o-drama.

* * * *
Paid death and taxes just like everyone else.

* * * *
This is one of them long-haul projects, the only one that ever really took hold.

* * * *
Just throwing my two bits into the melee of the human epoch.

* * * *
Terribly, wonderfully bored.

* * * *
Many thoughts left for time to do with what it will or will not.
Sometimes thoughts come into a life of their own,
And sometimes they die on the vine.

* * * *
Bold when need arises; unassuming when not.

* * * *
A dagger for the hearts and minds of consciousness.

* * * *
Stoic on the outside; big whiner on the inside.

* * * *
How weary I am at times playing this human game.

* * * *
Just another batshit crazy trying to get through it without too much bother.

* * * *
“There is nothing that you are going to do
That I haven’t done, seen done, or thought about doing,”
I once said to a student during my ephemeral tenure as a teacher of children.
True, but admittedly of bit rough on still somewhat innocent ears.
Probably a good thing I didn’t have kids of my own.

* * * *
Such an inexplicable thing how this mind has been fashioned to compose all this.
Quite a process  it is to witness ditty after ditty find their way into manifest reality.

* * * *
Waxing on and on and on:  Effing the ineffable.

* * * *
Kali would find her mate in me.

* * * *
I most definitely am not Jesus,
But if I was, do not even for a second believe
That I would be at all happy with the countless absurd ways
My name and thoughts have been used and abused, twisted and confused.
Rest assured that it would not be happy camper time for any self-congratulatory Christians
Were I truly the Son of Santa Claus, and for whatever reason bothered to return.
Rapture would not be quite what so many believe it is going to be.
Mwahahahaha …

* * * *
Yet another trite cliché.
It gives the mind something to do,
But sigh, ho-hum, yawn.

* * * *
Yes, I occasionally plagiarize, and leave it to the audience to know when.

* * * *
In this world at times, and other times not.
Walking both sides of the veil, playing this little part,
In the churning agony-ecstasy of this Shakespearian dreamtime.

* * * *
I do not say there are not ghosts or aliens or dragons or elves or dwarves or vampires
Or sasquatches or unicorns or tooth fairies or angels or whatever or whatever,
But I must discern them with my own eyes, my own ears, my own mind,
Or the minds of others who I perceive harbor a taste for truth.
I am too much of a scientist, too much of an agnostic,
To accept anything that cannot be verified.

* * * *
“Joe Everyman” Gina once called me.

* * * *
It is all so passé at times.

* * * *
Had I brought children into this asylum,
They would have likely grown weary of me,
As many children no doubt do of their parents.

* * * *
Sure, I have a heart … toasted to a well-burnt crisp,
Safely locked away in some shoebox in a long-forgotten storage unit,
To which I have long since misplaced the key.
The rent is due, as well.

* * * *
At times into inquiry – chock full of wisdom, opinions, conjectures, assumptions, delusions –
And other times into the nothingness prior-during-beyond the veil fabricated by consciousness.
It is bothersome, but somebody had to do it, and it looks like moi drew the short straw this round.

* * * *
Quite a thing to have no constraints in this existence but what choice allows.

* * * *
This teensy-weensy slice of eternity is enough for this eye.

* * * *
You would have to ponder every aphorism and essay
To see if any questions have not been given answer.

* * * *
And what would the world think if I really spoke my mind?

* * * *
If you ask what I think will become of all these thoughts,
I would more than likely laugh and reply, “Little to nothing at all.”
It has been an enjoyable hobby, but to believe it could ever turn things around
Would be nothing more than vanity having its way with me.

* * * *
Back in the high school graduation awards ceremony,
After being called to the rostrum for the seventh insignificant recognition,
That little epiphany voice, perhaps for the first time came to mind as it has many times since,
And spoke in its matter-of-fact, clear, lucid, coherent, rational way:
“There must be more to life than this.”

* * * *
It must find its own legs, for mine have grown too weary.

* * * *
Sometimes I have to peruse my own silliness
To clear the head, to reset to default, to reclaim the sovereign ground,
So as to further spew that which comes of its own accord.

* * * *
When I was much younger than today,
There was a recurring nightmare of being smothered,
Of being trapped in some deep silo, with beans pouring down upon me.
It went away once I realized it was the conditioning encroaching upon the inherent freedom.
It was the beginning of a long climb to reclaim that which I truly am,
That which we and all things truly are.

* * * *
Before Michael … After Michael.

* * * *
Never a fast typist – some sort of dyslexic finger thing –
And thank the gods for word processing and spell check.

* * * *
Not quite an orgasm, but just as momentary.

* * * *
Feeling mildly irate at having to bother waking up again this morning.

* * * *
What more do I want?  Likely more than more can abide.

* * * *
It already barely matters what anyone else thinks of me,
And after that last wheezing breath it will matter even less.

* * * *
A history teacher in college one day out of the blue pointed to a few of us and said,
 “You’re a historian … You’re a historian … You’re a historian … You’re a historian … “
At the time it meant nothing – went over the youthful head of innocence, so to speak –
But in the years since, the realization of what he meant has taken unforeseen wings.

* * * *
I am as bound up in all the differences, all the stereotypes, all the prejudices, as anyone.
Just have the inclination to step back occasionally to fathom the larger context.
Otherwise, just as irrational and absurd as everyone else in this circus.

* * * *
Everything I have written since 1989, except for a couple notebooks that were lost, along with a few other oopsie moments on the computer, is my gift to the future, such as it is.  It is up to you and others I have befriended through the years to pass it on if you deem it to have merit.  It has been an interesting pastime to give so much of my time over to it: to think it, to scribble it, to transcribe and edit it, to throw it about like Johnny did apple seeds.  There may be in the neighborhood of four thousand pages worth by the time I exit this center stage.  And what happens to it is for time to tell.  I leave it to you to decide.