01 January 2015

The Unfolding Next Round - 02/21/17


Greetings,

This is the most current set of ponderings in process, posted here in case something beyond repair happens to this imaginary Me-My-Self-and-I.  It changes a bit every few daze, so stay tuned as interest allows.  At the close of 2017, they will be filed in their respective Breadcrumbs zones – Leftovers, Soundbites, Possible Titles, Corollaries, Possible Last Words & Epitaphs, or Breadcrumbs – and then, if the last quarter-plus century of personal history is any indication, another round of ditty-festing will likely relatively quickly blossom from this a-scribing mind.

The last two years worth of wordplay can also be viewed at:

Breadcrumbs & Other 2015

Breadcrumbs & Other 2016

Enjoy in joy as best ye may.


Ciao, ciao,


M


LEFTOVERS


The discernment of truth in the human mind, in the human paradigm,
Has really always been very much the same across the world throughout time.
But all those who see it are bound by the filters of their conditioning: bound by culture;
Bound by creed; bound by language; bound by ego; bound by the thirst for power, fame, fortune;
Bound by the seven deadly intoxications: pride, envy, gluttony, lust, wrath, greed, sloth;
Bound by the perpetual tango of desire and fear in the quest for security.
Is it any wonder that these modern times are so chaotic,
So confused, so conflicted, so contrary,
That only the rare are willing and able to see past
The incalculable differences entirely created by imagination.

* * * *
Why be a true believer in anything or anyone?
Why allow the slaves of ignorance access to your mind or body?
Why trust any mass movement to take you anywhere you cannot get on your own?
Let the one-percenters and their minions fight their own fights.
Let the corporate empires fall on their own swords.

* * * *
Life is much easier to abide
If you adapt to the given circumstances,
Rather than always expecting them to adjust to you.

* * * *
The seer’s life is straddling the blade of mind or no-mind,
Whichever happens to be casting the most binding spell.

* * * *
Wisdom is the distillation of experience,
And critical thinking, doubt, skepticism, cynicism, are the ingredients
That unveil and unbridle the discerning brew.

* * * *
Every life form has a story: some long, some short; some interesting, some mundane.
But all happening in the same timeless awareness in which all narratives are written.

* * * *
It is the same babble all across the world.
The same desires, the same fears, the same passions,
The same relationships between people and activities and things:
Male and female, families, lovers, friends, acquaintances, strangers, enemies,
Home, food, work, politics, education, theater, art, sports, hobbies, et cetera ad infinitum.
There is only one monkey in the world; one monkey, with many faces.

* * * *
Holding together your universe
Really takes no effort, whatsoever.
Whether you give it attention or not,
Whether you participate or not,
The sensory play happens.
Why so serious?

* * * *
Look left, look right, look up, look down, look all around.
Everything perceived is mind-eye’s projection: arbitrary, capricious, whimsical,
Random, chance, unpredictable; casual, wanton, unmotivated, motiveless, unreasoned, unsupported, Irrational, illogical, groundless, unjustified, personal, discretionary, subjective.
The you that you in so many indivisible moments believe you are,
Is nothing more than an imaginary creation.

* * * *
Dying to time, dying to memory, dying to identity, as simple as it is,
Is not an easy thing for the ever-moving, ever consuming mind to do.

* * * *
Those who fathom eternal life abide artlessly in the ever-present moment.
To embrace the duality of space-time and all the assumptions of identification,
Is but the living death fashioned by the usurpation of awareness by consciousness.

* * * *
If you were a train engine running down the timeless track,
How many cars worth of memories would you be pulling?

* * * *
What is the best word to describe the passing of time?
Moving? Fleeting? Marching? Happening? Unfolding? Streaming?
Emanating? Projecting? Reflecting? Kaleidoscoping? Matrixing? Holographing?
The mystery that defies any and all description would likely guffaw long and hard, had it a voice.
The indivisible, ephemeral now is all there is; time is but the creation of imagination.

* * * *
The limited mind, the parochial mind, the generic mind,
Is oblivious to the truth-and-nothing-but-the-truth,
Indelibly obvious to the transcendent mind.

* * * *
The awareness you – and all that is dualistically perceived as otherness – timelessly are,
That which is prior to consciousness, that which is prior to the indivisibility,
Is without attributes, without blemish, and permeates all as one.

* * * *
It consciousness that imagines all divisions, all boundaries, all classes, all conflict.
The singularity, the awareness, from which all things emerge, is without attributes.

* * * *
Behind every set of eyes, an unfathomable emptiness.
Peer out from that emptiness, the emptiness you truly are.

* * * *
What you truly ever are, and are not, is prior to all assumptions,
Prior to all assertions "I am this" or "I am that,"
Prior even to the most austere conscious declaration: "I Am."
The prior that is the immaculate, indivisible awareness permeating all creation.

* * * *
What if this incredible mystery, what if all of creation,
Was for nothing more than to have a variety of others to talk to
And see, hear, taste, smell, and feel a few interesting things along the way.
After all, the oblivion of nothingness is a tad monotonous.

* * * *
Every mind born anew
To wander the yellow brick road
Offered by the sensory quantum holograph
Timelessly emanating from the mystery of imagination.

* * * *
The human mind evolved to survive the savagery and hardship of its jungle origin.
To solve problems, to design tools, to fashion weapons, to politic with others in its domain.
And when it does not have families to raise, widgets to fabricate, fields to harvest, or battles to win.
There can be a tendency by drama-queen sorts to summon insoluble difficulties out of thin air.
Ergo, an overpopulated world overrun by monkey-consciousness in near-constant flux,
Much of it, inordinately, indisputably, undeniably, beyond-the-pale pointless.

* * * *
Discern it in the flurry of the world,
Discern it in the solitude of a hermitage,
Which is the greater challenge?
Does it matter, really?

* * * *
The awareness you are observes the body breathing in, breathing out.
The awareness you are observes the mind thinking this, thinking that.
The awareness you are, call it what you will: observer, watcher, witness;
Always ever-present, always motionless, always changeless, always ageless.
An eternal mystery traveling dreams of time in mortal patterns of every hue.

* * * *
We must surely be of the same source,
Else the duality, the plurality, the intangibility,
Would schism as beyond all reckoning
As it is before all reckoning.

* * * *
Meld, mix, merge, blend, fuse, combine, amalgamate,
Melt, mingle, disappear, dissolve, fade, vanish, evaporate, disappear, dissipate,
Mend, set, bond, join, restore, integrate, unite, heal,
Into the oneness you truly are.

* * * *
Be grateful to all the one-percenters and their minion for working so hard,
Building their castles, climbing their mountains, fighting their wars, counting their gold,
So that you can wander about their busy-busy world in a state of mind as infinite as awareness allows,
Far more often than they in all their mansions and jets and yachts and limousines.

* * * *
The tipping point of the human epoch is long past,
And all born here on must endure the ride ahead
In whatever way the wagging winds of time blow.

* * * *
Except for their physical presence,
Those who have died are as much with you
As they were when they were alive.
It is all the play of mind.

* * * *
Where are you in the ever-present moment,
But the neural theater of consciousness, of imagination.
That play of mind that you believe, that you assume, real and true.

* * * *
Science can never measure more than the kaleidoscoping veil of the electromagnetic spectrum.
The immeasurable is immeasurable, no matter how intricate the veneer technology might weave.

* * * *
Wear a “kick me” sign, give others a button to push,
Guaranteed more than a few will get great joy
Launching a firm kick as they push it.

* * * *
You are as short as you are tall, as tall as you are short.
You are as small as you are large, as large as you are small.
You are as weak as you are strong, as strong as you are weak.
You are as ugly as you are beautiful, as beautiful as you are ugly.
You are as stupid as you are smart, as smart as you are stupid.
You are as foolish as you are wise, as wise as you are foolish.
You are as unreal as you are real, as real as you are unreal.

* * * *
Scientists are explorers of the mysterious unknown, of the perpetual enigma,
Using ever-evolving technology to fathom beyond the limits of the sensory panorama,
Yet restricted all the while, by the conditioned mind through which they perceive,
Through which they futilely measure but a veil of that which is immeasurable.

* * * *
What is existence but a conditioned projection,
Every moment translated by the filters of consciousness,
To which you are hypnotized into being so attached.

* * * *
How far is far? How close is close? How large is large? How small is small?
The elephant asked the mouse, who answered, “Even God does not know.”

* * * *
All speculation shall hereby cease and desist,
And all well-meaning witnesses shall from here on refrain,
From any further mentioning, any further hinting, any further pretending,
About anything of the esoteric that they do not, cannot, know.
They shall be silent and keep counsel to themselves,
That the thistles of the world might declaw,
And the age of humankind carry on
In a more agreeable manner.
Pfft, yeah, right, sure.

* * * *
Unify within and without until within and without dissolve into a stillness
In which the boundaries, the movement of imagination, disappear.
And the harmony of the manifest becomes Self apparent.

* * * *
Another day of the blissful nirvana
Of shopping-shopping-and-still-more-shopping,
For more of what likely was never ever needed in the first place.

* * * *
Awareness peers out from the empty stillness through the filters of consciousness,
Which tailor the world, the universe, to its own conditioned, self-absorbed design.

* * * *
In consciousness, you are a human becoming.
In awareness, you are a human being.

* * * *
What is death but one day not waking up,
And the ripples of corporeal existence ceasing to emanate
Into whatever portion of the universe your given dreamtime played out.
Whether or not you had great or little impact thereon out is not for you to ever perceive.
Only the omniscient-omnipresent-omnipotent quantum unicity witnesses all,
In the awareness, the nothingness, the oblivion, that is and is not.

* * * *
Another moment transforming into yet another vague memory
In the baggage train of mind and all its vain perceptions
Of your so-called life and the human collusion.

* * * *
To put behind you all paradigms consciousness might concoct,
Is to expand into a state of sovereignty no finite mind can grasp.

* * * *
Eternity whisks away every footstep without thought, without remorse.
Only the sensory mind bound to the dream of time imagines any of it real.

* * * *
Wisdom is the distillation of all the ecstasies and agonies
That have brought you to this point in the eternity of time.

* * * *
When it comes down to the nuts and bolts of this whodunit,
It is what it is, nothing more, nothing less, nothing but.
Nothing that anyone believes about it truly matters.
It is all the same grist; it is all the same mill.

* * * *
Quibbling over evolution, quibbling over chromosomes, quibbling over anything,
Does not change the most essential, the most indelible, the most indivisible truth,
That it is all connected, and that its origin and means will forever be a mystery.

* * * *
All things are equally the creation of the entirety; none are more or less.
Even discerning it does not give any more quantum standing.
To lay any claims is naught but hollow prattle.

* * * *
There is me, and there is Me.
There is the you that is separate, that is different,
And there is the You that is the same as Me.
One imaginary, the other real and true.

* * * *
… Breathe in nothingness … breathe out nothingness …
… Breathe in nothingness … breathe out nothingness …
… Breathe in nothingness … breathe out nothingness …
… Breathe in nothingness … breathe out nothingness …

* * * *
The sense of Self exists only for as long as the corporeal mind-body is able to function
In the manner its nature-nurture conditioning has  concocted.
Its inevitable death annihilates all.
All attachment to the temporal is pointless.

* * * *
Politics, economics, religion, sports, movies, et cetera, et cetera,
Are nothing more than the yabber of minds bent on distraction.

* * * *
Death happens.
Whether in a few minutes, a few hours, a few weeks, a few months, or thousands of years,
All living creatures endure one mortal clock, one mortal conclusion or another,
And everything now living will someday find its way the graveyard.
Only the genomes, the blueprints that shape existence,
Can lay claim to nominal immortality
In the Darwinian selective breeding program.
And even then, the most hardy will inevitably face extinction.

* * * *
To know that which is godness, that which is absolute,
You must engage in the ever-present moment to such a degree,
As to completely forget whatever temporal role
You imagine the awareness to be.

* * * *
Eternal life is not something remembered, not something born of the mind in time.
It is merely being the timeless awareness, the timeless nowness, the timeless emptiness, you truly are.
There is nothing to become, nothing to prove, nothing to maintain, nothing to pretend.
To be in that state of timeless quietude is to be all there is to be.

* * * *
The conditioning, the habituation, the programming, the indoctrination, the brainwashing,
Is hypnotizing, mesmerizing, absorbing, enthralling, spellbinding, captivating, convincing, blinding,
How much more challenging it is to be what you really, truly are, than what you pretend to be.

* * * *
Why would anything ever have to be done in any certain way?
To be locked into any particular view is to miss the fact
That the way is forever boundless and unaligned.

* * * *
If you are a hardcore religious wingnut, a true believer of the dittohead persuasion,
What would you do if you actually met your messiah, your prophet, your guru,
And didn’t adore him, didn’t believe him, wished you’d never even heard of him?
Would it annoy you, would it wake you up, or would you just start looking for another?

* * * *
No belief, no faith, no dogma, is required.
Let go of consciousness, of thought, of imagination.
Simply be the awareness you truly are.
Simply be the given here now.

* * * *
What are the nerves – eyes and ears and nose and tongue and flesh in the human paradigm –
But the mortal tendrils to all heavens, to all hells, and all the purgatories between.
Each and every organism an entirely matchless universe unto its Self.

* * * *
The absolute is absolutely indifferent
To the variable winds of agony and ecstasy
That transpire in the consciousness born of mind.

* * * *
Hell is in the details, and those little wonders of bother
Tend to multiply exponentially, and in accelerating fashion.

* * * *
No, that new technology is not going to save us;
Only further postpone the Malthusian inevitability.

* * * *
Does the tiger think itself a tiger? The whale, a whale?
The shark, a shark? The crow, a crow? The snake, a snake? The frog, a frog?
The ant, an ant? The spider, a spider? The worm, a worm? The weed, a weed? A microbe, a microbe?
Or do they all merely act out the given instinctual patterns
That all this mystery’s creatures great to small
Play out in harmonized fashion; a ballet that knows no bounds.
And is humankind, despite all the pretenses of consciousness, really doing any different?

* * * *
The quantum matrix is a timeless, spaceless, immeasurable fact.
Measure it, appraise it,  in every way imaginable until kingdom come,
All you will ever calculate, all you will ever speculate, is but the veil of illusion.

* * * *
Contentment is the final challenge of existence,
And gratitude the vehicle to that ethereal conclusion.

* * * *
The pittering-pattering of every mind,
Every moment further muddies up the world,
Inexorably caught up in the destiny of consciousness.

* * * *
Once the sensory universe convinces the mind to take its awareness seriously,
It is condemned to play an imaginary, impromptu role until death does it part.

* * * *
Physical pain and discomfort have a tendency to put a damper on attitude,
And along with watching this garden orb spiral into every sort of horror and absurdity,
Can be a substantial challenge to any Sisyphus daily rolling the boulder up the hill,
Any Atlas bothering to carry the weight of heaven and earth upon his shoulders.

* * * *
Who-what-where-when-why-how is not a teacher in this manifest play?
Family, lovers, friends, acquaintances, strangers, enemies,
All the places, all the things, all the many creatures great to small,
All the stars, all the worlds, all the moons, all the particles, speeding on high,
Do they not all give you pause to ponder on, to wonder about, anything and everything?


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


SOUNDBITES


You have never been what you think you are.

* * * *
What is any life but an ever-streaming series of distractions.

* * * *
There is only one quantum in the universe. One quantum, with many faces.

* * * *
You, who ever is, never was, and will never be.

* * * *
The road less traveled is a path of least resistance.

* * * *
Peering out through every set of eyes, the one eye sees all.

* * * *
Are you really any more than a repetitive body bag of habitual thinking?

* * * *
The inner eye, both empty and full, sees all, knows all, is all.

* * * *
Life, it'll kill ya.

* * * *
Every moment a new discovery in the mind undivided by time.

* * * *
There is no before, there is no after, there is only now.

* * * *
Every passion has its destiny, death rules us all, the world wags on.

* * * *
We are but dreams in each other’s minds.

* * * *
People come, people go, vanity rules.

* * * *
Devise whatever claims you will about awareness, all are speculations, none are real.

* * * *
All boundaries are born of imagination.

* * * *
To be born is to die each and every moment.

* * * *
A fair amount of the aging process is pain becoming a constant companion.

* * * *
You can take the monkey out of the jungle, but you can't take the jungle out of the monkey.

* * * *
Eternity is all, attached to none.

* * * *
It is only vanity that believes anything important.

* * * *
What a prison the body ultimately becomes to those ready to burst across the universe.

* * * *
How long can forever be if time is an illusion?

* * * *
The winds of mind are the winds of time.

* * * *
True science is an unblinking, unwavering, unallied eye.

* * * *
Even the most exotic venue can become dull after the first day.

* * * *
A life well-lived is nothing well done.

* * * *
Rejecting the human paradigm is an option.

* * * *
In any creative enterprise, only the artist knows all the agonies and ecstasies of its genesis.

* * * *
God of man, man of god, one in the same.

* * * *
What true scientist is not also a philosopher?

* * * *
The Truth and Nothing But the Truth

* * * *
You are the grist; you are the mill.

* * * *
The good news is that you will never die; the bad news is that you must endure forever.

* * * *
You are responsible; you are not responsible.

* * * *
You are as large as you are small, as small as you are large.

* * * *
You must figure it all out for your Self.

* * * *
Same grist, another day at the mill.

* * * *
Always look any gift horse in the mouth.

* * * *
Nothing matters, and even nothing doesn’t matter.

* * * *
There is no I am, only I amming.

* * * *
Name that Judas.

* * * *
There is only one teacher in the universe.  One teacher, with many faces.

* * * *
How can anyone see, much less care about, everything they do not know?

* * * *
The ever-changing is, well, ever changing.

* * * *
Fill your Self with the absoluteness that transcends the imaginary persona.

* * * *
In these our times, old school is every moment dying.

* * * *
And what is your ambition, your goal, your agenda, your raison d'être, this very moment?

* * * *
Adventures happen, if you have the courage to allow them.

* * * *
A lot of words, all for nothing.

* * * *
Never trust history to tell you the truth.

* * * *
What a burden it is to be responsible for someone else's happiness.

* * * *
The quietude of which so many speak is beyond all pales.

* * * *
Alone … alone … alone … so utterly alone you ever are.

* * * *
Why keep coming back?  Surely, one life well-lived is more than enough.

* * * *
The roving sun births a new year on this spinning mirage of quantum design.

* * * *
Yet another edifice of mind for eternity to unravel.

* * * *
Hell is in the details.

* * * *
The indivisibility is sliced and diced by a divisibility that has no ultimate reality, whatsoever.

* * * *
How can forever be any longer than you?

* * * *
Emotional lunacy strikes again.

* * * *
All better now, until the next trip and fall in some other now.

* * * *
Well, that answers it, then.

* * * *
Cut to the gist.

* * * *
Another round of that ancient game show: Name That Vanity.

* * * *
Go back from whence you came.

* * * *
No history can never be more than a story.

* * * *
Pretty amazing the different universes our bodies play out.

* * * *
Give me anonymity, or give me death.

* * * *
Science is only as potent as eye and technology allow.

* * * *
Only is absoluteness is there an end to relativity.

* * * *
The seed of tomorrow is in today, and yesterday but an imaginary tale.

* * * *
What a burden it is to be responsible for someone else's happiness.

* * * *
History is everywhere and nowhere.

* * * *
All those so-called mystical experiences are almost as profound as a good shit.

* * * *
The real you in a nut shell.

* * * *
History is relative to every eye that discerns it.

* * * *
You are a conditioned recording, nothing more, nothing less, nothing but.

* * * *
Truth does not exist because the eternal moment it is, is not.

* * * *
Every mind a lie unto its Self.

* * * *
Lose your mind.

* * * *
You are indelibly linked to the mystery of origin; there are no intermediaries.

* * * *
You are not what you do; you are not what you say.

* * * *
Why be bound by any human concoction?

* * * *
Dates and times may vary.

* * * *
So many things to care about, what’s the point of bothering anymore?


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


POSSIBLE TITLES


Dates and Times May Vary

* * * *
Nature’s Way

* * * *
The Edifice of Mind

* * * *
Life, It’ll Kill Ya

* * * *
At This Writing

* * * *
The Lunacies of Imagination

* * * *
Quid Pro Quo

* * * *
Blanking Out

* * * *
The Ten Thousand Distractions

* * * *
The Story of Things

* * * *
An Impromptu Creation

* * * *
The Time of Consequences

* * * *
I, Chameleon

* * * *
I, Hierophant

* * * *
Hell is in the Details

* * * *
The Indivisibility Game

* * * *
The Litany of Agony

* * * *
The Litany of Ecstasy

* * * *
The Roving Sun

* * * *
Zen Life, Zen Death

* * * *
Zen Mike

* * * *
Live Long and Prosper

* * * *
The Real You

* * * *
The Mines of Existence

* * * *
The Conditional

* * * *
The Unconditional

* * * *
The Thinker

* * * *
The Theorist

* * * *
The Scientist

* * * *
The Academic

* * * *
The Existentialist

* * * *
The Stoic

* * * *
The Fatalist

* * * *
The Ascetic

* * * *
The Celibate

* * * *
The Puritan

* * * *
The Penitent

* * * *
Ductless Glands and Viscera

* * * *
The Golden Pond of Catheters and Bedpans

* * * *
Emotional Lunacy

* * * *
Name That Judas

* * * *
Name That Vanity

* * * *
The Tipping Point

* * * *
The Last Laugh

* * * *
A Soliloquy of One

* * * *
The Wisdom of Insecurity

* * * *
The Prince Games

* * * *
The Princess Games

* * * *
The Human Collusion

* * * *
The Quantum Cowboy

* * * *
The Mystical Experience

* * * *
The Baggage Train

* * * *
The No-Face Face

* * * *
The Faceless Face

* * * *
The Quantum No-Face

* * * *
The No-Face of God

* * * *
A Quantum of One

* * * *
In Awareness, Be

* * * *
Lose Your Mind

* * * *
The Gift Horse

* * * *
Science and the Electromagnetic Veil

* * * *
Quantum Entanglement

* * * *
The Green Pea Singularity

* * * *
The Holographic Principal

* * * *
Grist for the Mill

* * * *
Pain: The Constant Companion

* * * *
Why So Serious?

* * * *
The Chromosome Shuffle

* * * *
The Blue Pill Void

* * * *
The Hobby

* * * *
The Distraction

* * * *
Cutting to the Gist

* * * *
Quantum Design


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


COROLLARIES


Aldous Huxley:
What we feel and think and are is to a great extent
determined by the state of our ductless glands and viscera.
Yaj Ekim's Corollary:
So it wasn’t the Devil that made you do it.

* * * *
Old Adage:
Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never harm me.
Yaj Ekim's Corollary:
And when you do let words hurt, what is it that is hurting but vain self-imagery,
All the self-deceits, all the insecurities about your fictional persona,
That spin their way to suffering of the imaginary kind.


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


POSSIBLE LAST WORDS & EPITAPHS


Michael Jay Holshouser

Also known as:
Yaj Ekim
The Joyful Curmudgeon
Andrew James Kurtz
Zen Mike

November 14, 1953
to
???

Forklift Driver
Philosopher
Madman
Fool

* * * *
I came, I saw, I died

* * * *
Lived and learned, died anyway

* * * *
One life is more than enough


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


BREADCRUMBS


Oopsie, another concussion rocks my world, my universe, in this, the fourth quarter of losing game.
Fortunately, I do not need that part of the brain, that part of the mind, to function full-go anymore.

* * * *
Another stonecutter daily chipping away in the mines of existence.

* * * *
Some call it god; I call it mystery.

* * * *
The Tralfamadorians know of what I speak.

* * * *
Of intimate, co-dependent relationships at this writing: too much work, too much bother.

* * * *
One life is more than enough.

* * * *
Nothing I need to say or do or be.
Nothing I need to see or hear or smell or taste or feel.
I am done and undone for all time.

* * * *
So bored, the tears are all dried up.

* * * *
I, Chameleon

* * * *
Not sure what that’s supposed to do for me, but it doesn’t.

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I have made every effort to make this about you,
When it is ultimately all about the me that is you.

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In the tranquility of dark starry nights,
I wander alone the long, winding country lanes,
Waiting for the Mothership to return and take me home.

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I, Hierophant

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How interesting it would be to be the fly on the wall,
Witnessing a detailed autopsy on this poor old cadaver.
The nervous system has certainly played a symphony in it.

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Zen Mike, Gregg used to call me during the Chico years.

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It took a long time in earth years to figure out my calling in this mortal existence,
Which, of course, provided a larger frame of reference, more writing material,
From which to articulate clarity and insight to an all but empty auditorium.

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More experiences lend themselves to more contemplation,
Which morph into more metaphors, more analogies, more ironies, more paradoxes,
Which means more opportunities to play with vocabulary and grammar.
Which is akin to fun, such as it is, for this a-puttering mind.

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A response to a Youtube video sent by Jeremiah Fair:

Richard Rohr: Becoming Stillness

Just finished listening to the Richard Rohr clip.  Definitely makes some interesting points, but his talking about the timeless stillness, the formless indivisibility of the mystery within and without, left me as always wondering why anyone who grasps the irony and paradox of it all, would ever need to believe in any god, ever need to belong to any religion, ever need to pray for any this or that, or ever need to partake in any idolatry of thought or form.  Surely, the fearlessness, the absoluteness, the indelible grace, of the timeless awareness, the eternal nowness prior to consciousness, is more than enough for anyone who has discerned the mystery firsthand.

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A response to Cliff McFelter regarding Donald Trump’s rise to power:

You've ranted well everything I've been thinking.  It's just too fucking crazy for words.  And me in Turlock, surround by Trumpites.  Some friendships are definitely getting stretched.  This must be how many looked at Hitler and Mussolini in their rise to power.  How long Trump will last has got to be a bet in Las Vegas.  Who knows, teflon-coated as he is, he may even get through this four years, and go for eight.  The foolishness, the stupidity of our electorate leaves all possibilities on the table.  It just shows the failure of our educational system that the memes of ignorance are as strong, if not stronger than ever.

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A response to cousin Steve Hunt regarding detachment:

I've come to see it all as a ceaseless rolodex of irony and paradox for everyone at every level in every way.  And I well know how hard it is to play the detached game when you're swimming with sharks in the deep end.  In his bid for enlightenment and inner peace, Siddhartha, who could have been a warrior king, chose to be a deadbeat dad, living homeless in parks and forests, playing god to a court of jesters.  Not a role for which most have aptitude, much less aspiration.

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P.S.  Regarding the name Yaj Ekim ... It is just a reverse spelling on the first and middle names ... Michael Jay Holshouser ... Mike Jay ... Yaj Ekim.  Coincidently, make of it what you will, Yaj is an Indian boy’s name meaning worshipper, sacrifice, another name for Shiva, a sage.  And Ekim is a Turkish name for October meaning “sowing” (of seeds).

Yaj:
Indian boy’s name
Worshipper, Sacrifice, Another name for Shiva, A sage

Ekim:
Turkish name for October
Turkish origin, meaning “sowing” (of seeds)


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More soon ... Of that there can be little doubt for as long as these mortal lungs are still drawing air … So stay tuned, you Wasically Wabbit …