01 January 2015

The Unfolding Next Round - 05/25/17


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.

* * * *
Of course there is what many, by one name, by one concept, by one dogma or another, call god.
But the fundamental reality is that it is a timeless, indivisible, unattainable mystery,
That cannot be bound by any form, by any circumstance, by any creed.
It is not some dualistic invention like a Zeus, a Jupiter, a Shiva, or a Santa Claus.
It is not a deity, a goddess, a divine being, a celestial being, a divinity, an immortal, or an avatar.
It is not an idol, a graven image, an icon, a totem, a talisman, a fetish, or a juju.
Of course there is a god, and it includes the essence you truly are.
Do not confuse any fabrications of consciousness
With the reality of awareness.

* * * *
In truth, you have no past, you have no future.
You are but a subjective dream of consciousness, of imagination.
There is only now, there is only awareness, there is only quantum, there is only eternity,
Timelessly witnessing an indivisible, kaleidoscoping, sensory play.

* * * *
Your world, your universe, your dreamtime, is your own imaginary concoction,
Founded upon the sensory input as interpreted by your patterned mind.
However you see anything unfolding, is what it is, always was, and will ever be.
Whatever you think others think, they think; whatever you think others do, they do.
You are perceiver, you are witness, you are observer, you are bystander, you are spectator.
You are the one and only awareness acting out your programmed, conditioned, habituated persona.
Immortally absolute, indelibly sovereign, timelessly unconditional, eternally indivisible,
And unutterably, irrefutably alone in your center stage of consciousness.

* * * *
To discern your true Self, to discern the awareness that is source,
Is to discern all possibilities upon which imagination might draw.

* * * *
Trust your Self.
Trust your own mind.
Trust your own awareness.
Trust your own perception.
Trust your own intuition.
Find your own way,
You, scientist.

* * * *
You are the only one and only observer watching you.
All the deities, all the angels, all the demons, all the avatars,
All the santa clauses, tooth fairies, and other mythological creatures,
Are nothing more than figments of imagination given credence.
You, the singular aloneness, are the one and only witness.

* * * *
The challenge is to imbibe each fleeting moment
As completely, as purely, as gracefully, as contentedly,
As the sensory mind bound to space and time fitfully allows.

* * * *
You who give the mind over to its inexplicable source,
Will never be appreciated unconditionally by the human paradigm.
Thought and emotion are but evolutionary by-products of ductless glands and viscera.
It is not possible to gain the full acceptance of any meme, any group, any followers, any true believers,
Any brainwashed, conditioned, indoctrinated collusion to which consciousness is so attached,
For the capricious mix is incapable of comprehending that which is cradle to all.
You must, in awareness, stand very much alone, flawlessly absolute.

* * * *
Without the thought, the idea, the notion,
The brainwave, the inspiration, the theory, the belief,
The concept, the opinion, the plan, the conception, the philosophy,
How would the imaginary identity you delude your awareness into pretending
Play out its meme-bound who-what-where-when-why-how collusion?

* * * *
No geography is immune to the money-in-a-wheelbarrow moment
If the one-percenters and their minions play their game too greedy.

* * * *
There appear to be many others of every imaginable variety,
But it is all really truly the awareness you very much alone are,
Translating the sensory play as the ever-present now unfolds.
The singular you, chattering away to your Self, so to speak.

* * * *
There is nothing in this manifest dreamtime to which you can ultimately cling.
You are awash in imaginary notion, and if that gradually dissipates,
Where can you ever be but the given right-here-right-now,
As infinitely, as infinitesimally immeasurable,
As the mystery of awareness ever is.

* * * *
When the mind is still,
When the mind is but awareness,
Who-what-where-when-why-how can you exist?

* * * *
Every mind has its rhyme and reason, its raison d'être,
And whether or not others become interested in the trove of its wanders.
Is a matter only history, in one future past or another, will tell.

* * * *
The entire human spectacle, with all its histories, whether written and unwritten,
Is nothing more than collusion founded upon the capricious spark of imagination.

* * * *
That which you imagine you are is replete with every sort of passion and pain and regret.
That mystery which you truly are, that which is prior to consciousness, is indivisibly immaculate.
The mind is a collection of perceptions to which unmitigated detachment is the only salvation.

* * * *
Whether or not there are other dream worlds,
Other Gaias out in the immensity of the indifferent universe,
We will likely never know because we have not valued our own world enough
To insure our survival for more than a relatively few minutes in the space-time continuum.
The clock is tick-tick-ticking, and we are rushing madly towards extinction,
Or certainly a very harsh, very downsized paradigm shift.

* * * *
There may be nothing new under this sun or any other,
But it is all new to you, so drive on, Brave Knight, drive on.

* * * *
Creation takes time, creation takes space.
There is no “suddenly appeared.”
There is only never-beginning-never-ending process,
A quantum holograph in which humankind is but a smidgeon of a shard.

* * * *
Dreaming itself immortal,
Consciousness is indelibly linked
To the finite creation of quantum design.

* * * *
We are all the same oneness playing out the parts, the same oneness playing out the many.
We are all a kaleidoscoping hologram of inestimable, immeasurable, infinite proportion,
A quantum matrix emanating a dream of time in the timeless indivisibility of eternity.

* * * *
Enlightenment is awakening to the awareness.
Liberation is wandering the awareness.
Nirvana is being the awareness.

* * * *
To be vulnerable is the challenge of complete surrender to the moment.
To be totally open without the psychic walls of the my-myself-and-I,
To the ego that is nothing more than a castle built of imagination.

* * * *
We have witnessed history play the same record over and over and over again.
The players change, the technologies change, the universe changes,
But the monkey mind is ever a Shakespearian collage.

* * * *
Pull out that phone, that tablet,
That notebook, that laptop, that screen,
That security blanket of these our modern times.
What will you do if/when the day it is forever gone comes?
Will you be ready when old school rises again?

* * * *
Your imaginary personality is how your awareness adapted
To the winds of the nature-nurture into which you were cast.
It is but a temporary temporal thing; best not get too attached.

* * * *
In this manifest dreamtime world, history has countless times proven that might makes right.
As Vegetius put it in De Re Militari: si vis pacem, para bellum, if you want peace, prepare for war.
Anonymity is the first line of defense, the second is to be a chameleon, to avoid becoming a target.
From then on – care you to abide, care you to survive – whatever level of readiness is required.

* * * *
It is only in imagination that all players are fashioned.
The grand holograph is seamless; there is no other.
The inscrutable indivisible is without partition.
All withouts are within, all withins, without.

* * * *
Complete, unconditional, unadorned vulnerability is the means to nirvana.
To give your self over to Self, to set the body-mind adrift in awareness,
Is the discerning tap of the Ruby Slippers that will get you home.
Eternity is now, there is no other, nothingness is as apparent as it gets.

* * * *
If there is such a thing as a perfect body,
Rest assured, it doesn't stay that way for long.

* * * *
Me and myself and I:
My body, my mind, my sex, my color, my race, my language, my culture,
My family, my friends, my school, my class, my college, my house, my land, my pets,
My workplace, my business, my club, my bar, my coffee shop, my store, my money, my things,
My town, my county, my state, my country, my world, my sun, my universe,
My religion, my church, my god, my heaven, my hell …
Me, me, me, forever and ever me.

* * * *
The masses do not fathom their fleeting context in history.
Their prevailing disquiet is the existence they must daily endure.
And thus unfolding events careen misinterpreted to and fro about them.

* * * *
In the ultimate mind, the universal mind, the god mind,
The who, the what, the where, the when, the why, the how; are no longer relevant.
Awareness is all, all is awareness.

* * * *
Nirvana is just giving your mind
Over to the timeless mystery of awareness;
Dissolving back into the eternal now you ever truly are.

* * * *
Without all those memories, without all that knowledge,
Without the collusion of all the myriad others around you,
Who-what-where-when-why-how would you have ever been?
The quantum feast is an indivisible creation of intelligent design.

* * * *
The newborn knows nothing of space and time, knows nothing of any other,
And it is the longing to rediscover the timeless birthright, the no-mind of awareness,
That calls cosmic seekers few and far between to quest without and within,
Until they are reborn into the stillness of eternity’s quantum womb.

* * * *
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 wage their own wars.
Let the corporate empires fall on their own swords.
Let the creeds play out their dogmas.

* * * *
Everything you think you are, everything you believe the cosmos to be,
Is nothing more than a subjective, haphazard collection of vague perceptions
Imprinted throughout the brain: a neural transmitter of evolutionary confabulation;
Organic fiber bundles firing this way and that; a lightning storm blazing away inside a skull.
You are nothing more than a figment of imagination perpetuating a delusion.

* * * *
Yes, there is a god, and, no, there is not a god,
And it is, and is not, what you or anyone else thinks.

* * * *
Is it any wonder so many across the board of human existence
Mitigate their mundane existence utilizing whatever escape is available?
Whether it be religion or sports or politics or drugs or soap operas or any whatever,
The suffering of consciousness, of sickness and injury and aging and dying,
Is a burden all humans equally shares, no matter the given lot.

* * * *
It is the awareness of the light within that shines out upon the world, upon the universe,
But it is consciousness that invents your version, your account, your interpretation,
Your translation, your rendition, your exploration, your understanding, your conclusion,
Of all the myriad experiences that come and go within the sensory perception of the given vessel.

* * * *
Wealth is a state of mind: What is too much? What is too little?
You never know, you might well be the richest soul in all creation.

* * * *
When the Humpty-Dumpty of humankind falls,
What will be born of whatever pieces remain?

* * * *
Digital warriors fight glorious crusades in the dark wee hours,
But only rarely know one end of the hammer from the other
During the bright of day to which they only midday wake.

* * * *
Eternal awareness is the state
Of those who have shed name and identity,
Of the rare few who bear no memory of that needing none.

* * * *
What is yours, what is not yours?
Is it your light that shines upon the world, or is it one light discerning all.
And where does the light go when the curtain of darkness falls?

* * * *
The quest for truth, the quest for eternal nature,
May be less about discovering something else,
May be less about experiencing some higher state,
Than it is simply unchaining from everything imaginable.

* * * *
You need not believe in anything, you need not believe in anyone.
The human drama is bursting with a ceaseless array of empty assumptions,
Steeped in endless cravings for, and endless fears of, all things known and unknowable.
There is no respite, there is no serenity, for the willy-nilly, unbridled mind.

* * * *
While some prance about one great stage or another,
The fate of most seers is to reign alone, quietly unknown.

* * * *
The quest for the eternal journeys a long and winding Yellow Brick Road,
In which there nothing is to be had, in which there is nothing is to be un-had.

* * * *
Detachment does not require effort.
It is simply letting go of what no longer matters.
Of merging back into the timeless now.

* * * *
You are the absolute nothingness of totality playing out an imaginary fabrication,
A random, subjective, arbitrary, dreamy, touchy-feely, three-dimensional, dreamtime reality.
Boggling beyond all horizons, all conceivable pales, yes, but that is just the way it is.

* * * *
Truth is not exclusive to the human paradigm,
But being human offers an opportunity to perceive it
In a way no other creature, to the best of our knowledge, can.
But it is a mighty humungous cosmos, so the jury will be out for awhile.

* * * *
No one sees the world, the universe, the same,
For there are as many worlds, as many universes,
As there eyes to see, ears to hear, and minds to discern.

* * * *
What does the human paradigm demonstrate again and again,
But that nothing is as truly important as imagination ever seeks to deem it.
Even the so-called spiritual quest is ultimately an à la mode absurdity.

* * * *
Truth is not an emotional heart state, nor is it a intellectual mind state.
The indivisible is indivisible, and the human paradigm
Is not its rhyme and reason.

* * * *
The dreamscape of the dreamtime is constantly changing.
What cannot adapt, what cannot abide, diminishes or perishes.

* * * *
The human species is but one of an inestimable array of life forms,
Neither greater or lesser but in its own vain confabulations.
Might may make right, but it does not refute equal.

* * * *
Are you streaming through a dream?
Or is a dream streaming through you?
Or is it neither-nor-both-one-in-the-same?

* * * *
What need to justify, to defend, your existence when you had no choice, no say, in the matter?
Why should you ever have to bother having to rationalize the inexplicableness you ever are?

* * * *
All the views involving mind and heart are the tripe of busy minds.
Only in awareness will the observer discern the truth of all things.

* * * *
Hoping makes nothing so.
One must get down and dirty in the muck of time
For the H-word to glean any reality.

* * * *
Does anything created of the human mind
Matter anywhere near as much as so many vainly believe?
How can truth be attached to anything confabulated
By the imaginary notions of consciousness?

* * * *
The splintery fence between awareness and consciousness is not easily straddled.
Sometimes you are awake, sometimes you are asleep, sometimes you are just a tad drowsy.
So in the end of all beginnings, it all boils down to: Oh well, so it goes, deal with it, get over it, move on.

* * * *
These many thoughts mean to me whatever they mean to you.
All translation is filtered through the conditioning of the beholder.

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

* * * *
There is only the ever-present moment,
There is only the timeless awareness prior to consciousness,
And there is no need to habitually encumber it with every variety of imaginary notion
Of what was, what is, and what might or might not be.

* * * *
Tattoos:
Making beauty ugly, and ugly uglier,
One stroke of herd at a time
On the fleshy canvas.

* * * *
What is history but a collection of ambiguous perceptions,
Superimposed as reality, oftentimes for ulterior purpose.

* * * *
There are plenty of thinkers of every sort across the world, across time,
But no matter how much they rationalize and moralize, how much they whine and moan,
The one-percenters and their minions have always held the reins.
Might makes right; always has, always will.

* * * *
Consciousness is the game awareness is forced to play
In order to survive and endure in this manifest dreamtime.
It serves no other rhyme or reason in the ultimate sense.

* * * *
What is time but vague perceptions of memory cells
Projected day-in-day-out into every conceivable imaginary whatever.
That, coupled with vocal chords, opposable thumbs, two legs, and a flair for tool-making,
And, voila, a never-ending, dreamtime collusion of human scale.

* * * *
The world is chock-full of cruelty and greed.
Perhaps you will find it in your Self
To be kind and generous.

* * * *
There will never be political, economic, or social resolution to the human condition.
Consciousness itself would need to evolve into making the paradigm shift,
And that is about as likely as flying pigs or raining cats and dogs.

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

* * * *
You have seen and done and thought many things; you have worn many hats.
And none of it would have happened without the corporeal mind-body.
None of it would have happened without the vehicle of creation,
But you are not the vehicle; you are not the medium.
You are the awareness; you are the witness.
You are the source of all creation
In your temporal speck of a universe.

* * * *
The world is whatever you think it is.
The world is not whatever you think it is.

* * * *
Most human beings are mindlessly happy, mindlessly content,
With the given conditioning, the given frame of reference, the given idolatry.
To be a seer, doubt is required, and disbelief, skepticism, cynicism, are scarce commodities.
No point in trying to debate, to persuade, to convert any true believer.
All must ultimately discern truth alone in their own way.
In other words, mind your own awareness.

* * * *
Abandon all regrets, all sorrows, all doubts, all frustrations,
All qualms, all misgivings, all hesitation, all shame,
All guilt, all grief, all distress, all burdens,
They are but imagination’s torment.

* * * *
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.

* * * *
In every mind,
A different world,
A different universe.

* * * *
You may well be the richest soul in all creation
If you have the state of mind real wealth implies.

* * * *
In every mind,
A different world,
A different universe,
All very much the same.

* * * *
In every mind, a different world, a different universe.
Every one created of the same timeless essence.
Every one the same undying indivisibility.
All alone, together, there is no other.

* * * *
In every mind,
A different world,
A different universe.
Every one self-evident.
Every one imagined.
All alone, together.

* * * *
In every mind, a different reality,
A different world, a different universe.
Every one imagined real and true.
All indivisibly alone, together.

* * * *
In every mind, a different reality,
A different world, a different universe.
Every one completely real, completely true.
Every one a fabrication of imagination.
Every one entirely alone, together.

* * * *
A different world,
A different universe,
A different everything,
All stitched of imagination.
All alone, together.

* * * *
Fractured by imaginary notions of every possible hue.
Heal thy Self if you've will and wit enough
To see it through and through.

* * * *
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.

* * * *
What is complete and utter detachment
But a mind given over entirely to its natural state,
Given over to the awareness, the stillness prior to consciousness.

* * * *
Those frequently asked questions:
What is the meaning of life?
What hours are you open?
Et cetera, et alii, ad infinitum.
Dialing zero will get you nowhere.
Please excuse me while I put you on hold.

* * * *
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.

* * * *
What an ephemeral thing this me, this my Self, this I,
This awareness that has no bounds, no limits,
But those concocted by imagination.

* * * *
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.

* * * *
Quantum is the building block, the source code,
And awareness, through consciousness, the designer,
Gradually awakening through eons of creative evolution
To the insoluble mystery of its inexplicable source.

* * * *
Eternal life is awareness of the awareness.
Enlightenment is awakening to the awareness.
Liberation is wandering the awareness.
Nirvana is being the awareness.

* * * *
For every up there is a down; for every down, an up.
The passionate mind is a many-faced, intemperate beast,
In comparison which, the weather can seem somewhat tame.

* * * *
What is the body-mind but a tool evolved to survive, to endure.
Happiness is an occasional abundance of pain-relieving endorphins,
Between the pitiless waves of pain and suffering on the road to extinction.

* * * *
Always best to look any gift horse in the mouth.
You never know what bother might be lying in wait.

* * * *
To be that which is prior to consciousness,
To be that which is but unending awareness,
To be that which is nada-nil-zilch nothingness,
To be that is to be the eternal unicity in all:
Omniscient, omnipresent, omnipotent.

* * * *
Humankind is the alien species on this spinning world,
Acting out as terrifying a Twilight Zone screenplay
As any science fiction writer could ever conceive.
Pity all the beasts who have suffered our rise.

* * * *
When you were young, time did not exist because there was no history
Against which to ruminate, to evaluate, to estimate, to duplicate, to reflect,
You were free of the weight of mind, of ego, and all the bother of self-imagery.
To discern that state of rejuvenation, to throw off the yoke of time, is the challenge.

* * * *
The unbearable lightness of being is, well, unbearable, in a topsy-turvy-
Inside-out-backwards-upside-down-right-side-up-convoluted sort of way.

* * * *
What to do when you quickly or slowly realize that none of it really matters.
Albert Camus stated: There is but one truly serious philosophical problem and that is suicide.
Jiddu Krishnamurti’s answer was a little less portentous: Do whatever amuses you.

* * * *
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 minions 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.

* * * *
… awareness … awareness … awareness … awareness … awareness … awareness … awareness …
… awareness … awareness … awareness … awareness … awareness … awareness … awareness …
… awareness … awareness … awareness … awareness … awareness … awareness … awareness …
… awareness … awareness … awareness … awareness … awareness … awareness … awareness …
… awareness … awareness … awareness … awareness … awareness … awareness … awareness …
… awareness … awareness … awareness … awareness … awareness … awareness … awareness …
… awareness … awareness … awareness … awareness … awareness … awareness … awareness …

… Ad infinitum …

* * * *
In the tale “The Emperor's New Clothes,” a tale of a vain king swept up by a deceitful notion,
The young child, too young to understand the desirability of keeping up the pretense,
Cries out the truth no one else dared: "But he isn't wearing anything at all!"
And if you step back a bit, you will clearly see the human paradigm
Is based entirely on the vanity-vanity-all-is-vanity trickery of consciousness,
An imaginary dreamtime reality to which eternal truth has no allegiance, whatsoever.

* * * *
Born of an intangible, indelible, ineffable, indivisible mystery,
Over which we have little or no say, little or no control, little or no anything.
We are all alone, together, playing out our whimsical little fates
Which ultimately have no meaning, whatsoever.

* * * *
Most prefer one lie or another,
So the question for anyone who would lead
Is whether to feed them falsehoods they willingly follow,
Or the truths they will without hesitation ignore.

* * * *
Why identify with anything or anyone?  Why belong to any group?
Wander empty, wander anonymous, wander absolute, wander free.

* * * *
What makes anyone follow?  What make anyone lead?
Is anyone really worth following?  Is anyone really worth leading?
Where is there to follow?  Where is there to lead?

* * * *
Whether it is a rock, a statue, a painting, a concept, or flesh and blood;
Whether it is Persian, Greek, Roman, Taoist, Hindu, Buddhist, Celtic, Aztec, or any other;
Idolatry is idolatry is idolatry.
Just because it is your cultural construct,
Does not make it any less narrow or false or absurd.

* * * *
idolatry |īˈdälətrē|
noun

worship of idols.
• extreme admiration, love, or reverence for something or someone:
we must not allow our idolatry of art to obscure issues of political significance.

synonyms: idolization, fetishization, fetishism, idol worship, adulation, adoration,
reverence, veneration, glorification, lionization, hero-worshiping
"the prophets railed against idolatry"

* * * *
How can anyone look out at this overdone once-upon-a-garden world,
And think it progressing simply because there are daily more human beings,
Daily more buildings and roads and technologies and unending clutter?

* * * *
Is there really a universe, a cosmos jam-packed with galaxies?
Or simply an indivisible matrix, an awareness,
Timelessly dreaming a universe?

* * * *
Every Rome will fall one day or another; lucky if it’s not on you.
And if it does, oh-well-so-it-goes-deal-with-it-get-over-it-move-on.

* * * *
If you can imagine anything, without having to act everything out,
You will have an interesting, stimulating, easy-going existence,
With far fewer consequences to play out in the long run.

* * * *
The stream of consciousness is everything
From shallow and wide to deep and narrow,
From slow and tranquil to swift and untamable,
And meanders every variety of course across all time.

* * * *
To give your self completely over to the awareness,
Is to be free of conditioning, witness to the dream.

* * * *
What is the point? What is not the point? And why does there even need to be a point?
But for the obsessively driven genetic predisposition of the human mind,
There would never have even been the meaningless conception,
That in all of creation there was such a vain beast.

* * * *
We are all the same inexplicable, indivisible, immortal quantum essence.
It is consciousness that conceives every imaginable difference.
There is, has never been, will never be, any other.

* * * *
So many regrets, so many things you would do differently, or likely not at all.
Would that there were more of a rewind button than mere imagination.
But, then again, what regrets would there be but for imagination?

* * * *
Is the time born of consciousness
Anything more than the creation of desire and fear,
Indelibly imprinted in the genetic code?

* * * *
Melding with truth cannot be forced.
Effortlessness is the way to the way.

* * * *
You are awareness: nothing more, nothing less, nothing but.
Everything else is but the endless confabulation of imagination.

* * * *
In the wrestling match between nature and human consciousness,
It is not all that arduous to predict which will inevitably triumph.
Malthus was only off by a relatively few cycles of the given star.

* * * *
What a beast, deoxyribonucleic acid, in its mindless quest for immortality,
That it would relentlessly persist in propagating consciousness
Into so many hazardous, torturous circumstances:
Ailments, illnesses, infections, viruses, syndromes, diseases,
Maladies, disorders, accidents, disasters, misfortunes, catastrophes,
Mishaps, malaise, mayhem, turmoil, havoc, bedlam, anarchy, pandemonium,
Calamites, conflicts, and every other sort of indescribably painful whatever ad infinitum.

* * * *
And the moral of the story of the human epoch,
And its imaginary stream of consciousness
Through all its myriad mortal filters,
Is?

* * * *
The predator’s fang and claw, the prey’s swiftness,
And the untamed, brutish, Darwinian wild between.

* * * *
You might become excruciatingly aware of your conditioning,
Your indoctrination, your habituation, your domestication,
Your brainwashing, your programming, your encoding,
But whether or not you can fundamentally change it,
Is an experiment you must investigate very much alone.

* * * *
You think there is point to all this absurdity?
Well, no, there is not, there never was, there never will be.
It is simply an emanating, kaleidoscoping, hologram of pointlessness,
Seemingly destined to play out until there is absolutely nothing left to play out.

* * * *
If not today, maybe tomorrow.
If not tomorrow, maybe the next day.
If not the next day, maybe the next, or the one after, or the one after that,
Or maybe never.

* * * *
The senses created the illusion of time,
And time created the mind.
A quantum circle.

* * * *
What is desire, what is fear,
But the projection of possibility into time,
Given the weight of passion.

* * * *
Love and compassion, animosity and indifference, or some conduit between,
Or perhaps what equally, indifferently permeates them all:
The equanimity of pure awareness.

* * * *
The nowness that you perceive, the nowness to which you cling,
The nowness that you every moment spin into your dream of time,
Is already nothing more than the ephemeral ash of imagination.

* * * *
Always curious how humans rationalize any given scenario differently,
Depending on whether or not it is their tribe, their team, their view, their anything.
Yet another monkey thing playing out the given egocentric-ethnocentric-geocentric-solarcentric;
The me-myself-and-I around which the entire human paradigm ceaselessly orbits.

* * * *
Purpose and meaning and all the passions of vanity are overrated.
Only in unmitigated detachment is there any resolution to the human absurdity.
Stop knowing, stop caring, stand alone, wander alone, absolute and free.

* * * *
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.

* * * *
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.

* * * *
We all have many things that draw us, many interests that lead us down our long and winding road.
It could be family or friends or community or work or politics or religion or business or ivory tower
Or creativity or nature or travel or cooking or shopping or sports or current events or heroic causes
Or sex or gambling or drugs or lying or cheating or stealing or wreaking or blathering incoherently,
Or merely perching day after day in front of a television or computer, or in taverns and coffee shops.
The scroll is as long as imagination allows – we experience many things in our given windows of time.
But as our dream streams on, as we grow older, our diversions, our amusements, slowly whittle down,
And whatever it is in the end that drums most loudly in our mind’s eye will be the capstone of our fate.

* * * *
Challenging as it may be to detach
From the many pleasures and pains body and mind tender,
The ultimate reality is that nothing ever actually touches the immortal you that you truly are.
Imagination has always believed itself more real than it can ever be.

* * * *
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.

* * * *
The passions can be a heady mix of emotions, often impetuous, barely controllable.
From Wikipedia, a list of the A-to-W ways it can play out in any of us: affection, anger,
Angst, anguish, annoyance, anticipation, anxiety, apathy, arousal, awe, boredom, confidence,
Contempt, contentment, courage, curiosity, depression, desire, despair, disappointment, disgust,
Distrust, ecstasy, embarrassment, empathy, envy, euphoria, fear, frustration, gratitude, grief,
Guilt, happiness, hatred, hope, horror, hostility, humiliation, interest, jealousy, joy,
Loneliness, love, lust, outrage, panic, passion, pity, pleasure, pride, rage, regret,
Remorse, resentment, sadness, saudade, schadenfreude, self-confidence,
Shame, shock, shyness, sorrow, suffering, surprise, trust, wonder,
Worry, and who knows how many honorable mentions
In the hard-wiring of the jungles of long ago.
We are the Planet of the Apes, indeed.

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

* * * *
Is the human paradigm really any different than any petri dish lab experiment?
Any different than any microorganism overrunning its given geography
As it instinctively propagates toward its inexorable extinction.
The biological imperative will out and out, again and again, forever again.

* * * *
Awareness is the baseline of all consciousness,
No matter the manifestation, no matter the dimension.
Prior to that eternal stillness, that timeless now, naught but mystery.

* * * *
You think imagination reigns?
Think again, Pilgrim, think again.
It will soon be as if you were never born.

* * * *
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.

* * * *
Do not confuse the brain that is creating this timeless manifest dream,
With the time-bound mind that is through imagination interpreting it.

* * * *
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.

* * * *
Most people across the world only wake up long enough
To swallow another blue pill and push the snooze button.

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

* * * *
You did not ask to be born, so why not play your existence in whatever way suits you?
To be bound by any other’s expectations, is to miss out exploring your own potential.

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

* * * *
Do not even for a moment expect others to worship your indivisible realization.
More than a few would be only too willing to slit your throat,
Or fling you into a deep-dark-dank leper’s den.
You are on your so-it-goes-deal-with-it-get-over-it-move-on own.

* * * *
Conflict is rarely spawned by just one factor, one issue, one difference,
And any win-win solution, if that is the goal in any negotiation,
Requires all parties to tether their pride to some degree.
Wrong assumptions, taking things personally, is a sure road to war.

* * * *
What need for the sanction of any other
Once you discern the mystery you truly are.

* * * *
You have played out every conceivable mythological role:
God, Allah, Brahmin, Tao, Buddha, Christ, and on and on ad infinitum.
None of them are anything more than collusions born of the idolatrous monkey mind.
Let them all go, give Self over to the eternal awareness prior to all naming, prior to all imagination.
There absolutely is no need to be, to pretend anything more than the timeless stillness,
The quantum indivisibility you are, have ever been, and will ever be.

* * * *
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.

* * * *
It took all of creation for humankind to reach its first billion,
And only a little over two hundred years to hive up toward eight billion.
No matter how we crunch the numbers, there is no happy ending to this story

* * * *
Most every human being has at least one group, one tribe with which they repeatedly identify.
It is a monkey thing for which we were hard-wired in the canopied jungles of long ago.
To stand alone, entirely free of any identification, may well be almost impossible
For all but the rarest of the rarest of the rare, and even then very unlikely.

* * * *
How insipidly tedious and stagnant so many lives are forced to become
To offset the grinding debt modern lifestyles far too often attain.
How enviable the unadorned existence of our ancestors
In their hunter-gatherer shelters and caves.
Not easy, of course, but less bother
Than striving to keep up with the Joneses.

* * * *
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.

* * * *
Life is but a touchy-feely, three-dimensional dream, nothing more, nothing less, nothing but.

* * * *
For the inscrutable indivisible, there is no within, there is no without.

* * * *
Rationalism laced with emotion; how rational is that?

* * * *
Find you own way, be your own law, bow to no one, expect none to bow to you.

* * * *
It is only in imagination that all players are created.

* * * *
Rationalism laced with emotion is as irrationally intolerant as any other political correctness.

* * * *
There will be blood.

* * * *
What is money but time already spent.

* * * *
Create a god and they will pay.

* * * *
None of that matters anymore; let it go.

* * * *
Your entire existence is nothing more than a dream that never happened.

* * * *
Space-time offers far more than memory banks allow.

* * * *
How much of your existence do you spend thinking about what others think of you?

* * * *
The earnest doubter doubts until the doubting is done.

* * * *
Good health is the only true wealth; everything else is nothing in comparison.

* * * *
Freedom is only free is everyone’s got a piece of it.

* * * *
To be who-what-where-when-why-how you really are, and are not, is the final challenge.

* * * *
The intelligent designer is the intelligent design.

* * * *
The clock keeps ticking-ticking into the future, but you, you are ever the same.

* * * *
A dream, nothing more, nothing less, nothing but, like it never happened.

* * * *
Does the world, does the universe, does anything exist, if you are not here to witness it?

* * * *
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?

* * * *
Let go the world and it will let go you.

* * * *
How ironic that a world beyond all redemption finds you wanting.

* * * *
Boggling, indeed.

* * * *
What is any direction known to the relative mind?

* * * *
The first day and the last day, are they really so different?

* * * *
Watch the judgment.

* * * *
Like nobody has done or said it before.

* * * *
Where is science when there is nothing to observe, when there is nothing to measure?

* * * *
The Reaper is always hovering just a breath away.

* * * *
To wrap your mind around the mystery, you must unwrap your mind.

* * * *
Speculation is the root of all inanity.

* * * *
There is no becoming, there is only being.

* * * *
The irony, the paradox, of the spiritual quest, is that less always ends up being more.

* * * *
History is testament to hell on earth.

* * * *
No need to fear what you really truly are and are not: just be it.

* * * *
Wisdom is connecting the dots.

* * * *
… blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah … ad infinitum …

* * * *
Gaia is a dream world of eternity.

* * * *
Your true nature is emptiness.

* * * *
You are but a brief mortal dream of the immortality of eternity.

* * * *
You cannot know truth; you can only be it.

* * * *
Hell is in the details, and history is creator of its future past.

* * * *
A worthy windmill if you enjoy futility.

* * * *
Harder to let go than it is to hold on, until its not.

* * * *
Less is the new more.

* * * *
The future is getting uglier and uglier in every way every day.

* * * *
Time is the living death of consciousness.

* * * *
How can just being, be any sort of goal?

* * * *
Now is the timeless dreamtime of all yesterdays and tomorrows.

* * * *
Judge, jury, executioner, all in one, one in all.

* * * *
Even wisdom is only as deep as illusion allows.

* * * *
Now is an impenetrable mystery.

* * * *
The muddy stream gets muddier every day.

* * * *
Every student gleans something different from any given teacher.

* * * *
The web of futility is a many-spidered thing.

* * * *
History: read it and weep.

* * * *
Prescriptions tend to get forgotten in one haze or another.

* * * *
There is nothing to discover.

* * * *
The eggshell of conditioning is but an imaginary shell.

* * * *
What do you do with the truth that has neither meaning, nor purpose, nor reality?

* * * *
Are you insane, or jsut not playing the game?

* * * *
Why resist the immutable?

* * * *
What matters, what does not matter, very much the same

* * * *
All different, all the same.

* * * *
Only after that last wheezing breath will it be too late to change your mind.

* * * *
Full breath or shallow, you pass through it the same.

* * * *
The dead are used as the living choose.

* * * *
Nothing exists but the dreamtime of imaginary notion.

* * * *
Give it no mind.

* * * *
Explain, if you would, why you have never, and will never, see your face.

* * * *
All is but imaginary notion.

* * * *
Why resist the inevitable?

* * * *
​We are time machines of the meaty kind.

* * * *
A sensory play fostered by imagination.

* * * *
In every mind, a different universe.

* * * *
Full enough, yet?

* * * *
The world, the universe, that imagination built.

* * * *
Truth is not some sliver of a dimension exclusive to humankind.

* * * *
To be free of time is to be free of mind.

* * * *
What is will but consciousness balled up with intention.

* * * *
The all-seeing eye discerns with an all-seeing mind.

* * * *
Pay no attention to that man behind the curtain.

* * * *
Nothing will never make a difference.

* * * *
Far easier to idolize someone else’s Self than it is to discern your own.

* * * *
We all have our timeline.

* * * *
What cannot be know cannot be usurped.

* * * *
Deign it merit?

* * * *
The madness that is sane is the mind that sets an aimless course.

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

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

* * * *
An imaginary creation, a tale of universal proportion.

* * * *
Vanity-vanity-all-is-vanity, except for pure awareness of the eternal kind.

* * * *
What is any history but the fog of perception.

* * * *
Scream or moan or laugh, the roller coaster rolls on and on.

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

* * * *
If your practice is idolatry, then you have missed the point.

* * * *
Humankind is no different than any other cancer chewing away at its host.

* * * *
Detachment is key.

* * * *
Are you this? Are you that? No and no.

* * * *
How quickly the sparkle of obsession can morph into dark shadows.

* * * *
Contentment is when just being is enough.

* * * *
This world is not for you, shake it off.

* * * *
What you do not give your mind to does not matter.

* * * *
Travel light, travel sure, travel free.

* * * *
It's your world now, kids, rotsa ruck.

* * * *
What the tongue craves is not necessarily what the tummy needs.

* * * *
Give it no name.

* * * *
Whether you are as still as a pond, or as restless as a typhoon, the awareness is ever the same.

* * * *
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.

* * * *
Let the gods double-double-toil-and-trouble with all their judgments.

* * * *
Boggling how simple it all is, if you manage to lose your mind.

* * * *
Dust you ever are.

* * * *
Letting go the world requires attentive mindfulness in each and every moment.

* * * *
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.

* * * *
It does not need to mean anything.

* * * *
For far too many, enough is not an option.

* * * *
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.

* * * *
There is no copyright to wisdom.

* * * *
Every birth a new universe; every death an end.

* * * *
Nothing doing.

* * * *
You are the ever-born-ever-undying mystery, nothing more, nothing less.

* * * *
What circus calls you?

* * * *
The joy of imagination is that you don't have to go there.

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

* * * *
Truth is the filament in every moment's birth and death.

* * * *
Wisdom has no bounds.

* * * *
The race of nothing to nowhere.

* * * *
It all is nothing more than a dream of mind.

* * * *
Always astounding how long it can take for some things to become obvious.

* * * *
We all get locked in our conditioned recording, playing out the rutted mind round and round.

* * * *
Define good, define bad, if you can.

* * * *
There is nothing to do, so do it well.

* * * *
Artificial intelligence for an artificial world.

* * * *
Die to everything but the awareness you truly are.

* * * *
As you see more and more clearly, what is real, and what is not, detachment just sort of happens.

* * * *
Once again the deadline is postponed.

* * * *
The flesh is weak, and daily weaker.

* * * *
The biological imperative will out.

* * * *
There is no such thing as normal, or it might be said, we are all our own version of normal.

* * * *
Some people you laugh with, and others you cannot help but laugh at.

* * * *
Alas, poor Yorick! Alas, poor Monkey!

* * * *
Joy, more to forget.

* * * *
There is nothing normal.

* * * *
There is nothing not normal.

* * * *
Nothing is but what you think it.

* * * *
The unknowable unknown is, well, unknowable.

* * * *
Holding onto nothing.

* * * *
We are all buddha, we are all god; the trick is having the wit and will and courage to discern it.

* * * *
"See you tomorrow" can be a dubious assumption.

* * * *
Not holding onto nothing.

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

* * * *
What is any gourmet meal but just another pile of shit waiting to happen.

* * * *
Detachment is a blade unto Self.

* * * *
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?

* * * *
Only seven days? … Only six thousand years? … The chosen people? … Yeah, sure … Pfft.

* * * *
Feed them a lie and they will follow; feed them the truth and stand alone.

* * * *
What is it to awaken?  And is it worth arguing about?

* * * *
Truth serves no purpose.

* * * *
If it defied physics, it probably didn’t happen.

* * * *
Vanity-vanity-all-is-insatiable-ductless-glands-and-viscera-delusional-blue-pill-vanity.

* * * *
How can that which was never born ever die?

* * * *
History has proven over and over again that anything can be usurped.

* * * *
The sands of time are written in the stars.

* * * *
Let go the conditioned mind.

* * * *
Have you ever really moved in any way, any shape, any form?

* * * *
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?

* * * *
Too late for all but the most disconcerted, willing and able to let go.

* * * *
Every seed has its fate.

* * * *
The Truth and Nothing But the Truth

* * * *
Nothing muffled about the accusatory question.

* * * *
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.

* * * *
Buddhists and Christians aplenty; Buddhas and Christs, rare indeed.

* * * *
No matter the point and purpose, all ambition clouds the mind.

* * * *
Mind your own awareness.

* * * *
Doubt is a rare commodity.

* * * *
There is no path through emptiness.

* * * *
Might makes right; always has, always will.

* * * *
Name that Judas.

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

* * * *
The worms are licking their lips.

* * * *
What need for a solution when there was never really a problem.

* * * *
Oh, happy choiceless.

* * * *
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.

* * * *
Wake up in whatever way you will, it does not matter, it is but a dream.

* * * *
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.

* * * *
More is less; less is more.

* * * *
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.

* * * *
No matter how resolute, science is ultimately limited by the doors of human perception.

* * * *
Intuition is imagination’s rabbit hole.

* * * *
There are some secrets best taken to the grave.

* * * *
The only thing smart about most smart phones is the phone.

* * * *
Yet another Ground Hog Day begins.

* * * *
Nationalism is nothing more than a loftier version of a high school pep rally

* * * *
Tyranny sculpts both cowards and martyrs.

* * * *
Let us not confuse humanity with humanity.

* * * *
And what will come of life on this world when the web is tattered beyond redemption?

* * * *
Too hot, too cold, whiners all.

* * * *
Wisdom is not an end in itself, but a natural distillation of a life of inquiry and observation.

* * * *
How can creator and creation not be the same?

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

* * * *
The quest for peace is a solitary trek.

* * * *
There is no other, never was, will never be.

* * * *
The ultimate irony and paradox is always speaking of time as if it were real.

* * * *
The joy of the long stroll is without compare.

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

* * * *
The body is going to die someday, so why not my its own hand?

* * * *
Close encounters of the third kind playing out daily.

* * * *
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

* * * *
Name That Judas

* * * *
The Edifice of Mind

* * * *
Life, It’ll Kill Ya

* * * *
At This Writing

* * * *
The Lunacies of Imagination

* * * *
Quid Pro Quo

* * * *
Nothing Is But What You Think It

* * * *
Blanking Out

* * * *
The Ten Thousand Distractions

* * * *
The Story of Things

* * * *
An Impromptu Creation

* * * *
The Time of Consequences

* * * *
The Articulation

* * * *
The Solitary Trek

* * * *
The Long Stroll

* * * *
The Aimless Wander

* * * *
The Forging

* * * *
Moiville

* * * *
The Quest for Peace

* * * *
The World of Widgetry

* * * *
A Solo Act

* * * *
Close Encounters of the Third Kind

* * * *
I, Chameleon

* * * *
The Primal Force

* * * *
The Emperor's New Clothes

* * * *
The Evolutionary Paradigm

* * * *
The Relative Mind

* * * *
A Subjective Reality

* * * *
Eternal Life is Now

* * * *
The Blessing and Curse of Existence

* * * *
The Boon and Bust of Existence

* * * *
The Ecstasy and Agony of Existence

* * * *
The Vulnerability of Death

* * * *
Eternal Life, Eternal Death

* * * *
The Muck of Time

* * * *
The Illusion Games

* * * *
The Mask of Time

* * * *
The Quantum Feast

* * * *
The Doubter and the Doubted

* * * *
The Stranger

* * * *
The Inscrutable Indivisible

* * * *
Perception is All

* * * *
The Unknown Within All Withouts

* * * *
Old School Will Rise Again

* * * *
Like It Never Happened

* * * *
Within the Without, Without the Within

* * * *
The Key to Home

* * * *
The Ruby Slippers

* * * *
Of Walls and Moats

* * * *
Free and Clear

* * * *
Create a God and They Will Pay

* * * *
The Greatest Story Never Told

* * * *
The Greatest Hoax Ever Sold

* * * *
The Brain Wash

* * * *
The Conditioning

* * * *
The Habituation

* * * *
The Ghost of Old School Past

* * * *
The Context of History

* * * *
Dream World

* * * *
Slavery and Genocide and War: As American as Apple Pie

* * * *
The Hallilburton Wars: Taking Cha-Ching to the World One Water Bottle at a Time

* * * *
Give It No Mind

* * * *
Human Crap

* * * *
More Human Crap

* * * *
Even More Human Crap

* * * *
Watch the Judgment

* * * *
Doubt

* * * *
No Doubt

* * * *
The Shakespearian Collage

* * * *
The Censored Mind

* * * *
The Uncensored Mind

* * * *
The Blue Pearl

* * * *
The Goldilocks Syndrome

* * * *
There Will Be Blood

* * * *
The Intelligent Designer Is The Intelligent Design

* * * *
The Moral of the Story

* * * *
The Absurdity of Love

* * * *
The Absurdity of Hate

* * * *
Where All Paths End

* * * *
The Emptiness of Reality

* * * *
The Eggshell of Conditioning

* * * *
An Entertaining Madness

* * * *
The Essential You

* * * *
Full Enough, Yet?

* * * *
The Rabbit Hole of Time

* * * *
Eternal Vigilance

*.* * *
Earthlings

* * * *
Of Mind and Heart

* * * *
The Good Samaritan

* * * *
The Indifferent Samaritan

* * * *
Groundhog Daze: Groundhogs All the Way Down

* * * *
The Cradle of Awareness

* * * *
The Brazen Beast

* * * *
The Dead Philosophers Society

* * * *
The Impenetrable Now

* * * *
What Dreams May Come

* * * *
The Null Set

* * * *
There is Nothing to Discover

* * * *
The Dude Abides

* * * *
The Unending Speculation

* * * *
The Root of All Inanity

* * * *
The Streamtime Dreamtime

* * * *
The Web of Futility

* * * *
Gibberish

* * * *
More Gibberish

* * * *
And Still More Gibberish

* * * *
Less Is The New More

* * * *
Prattle

* * * *
Tripe

* * * *
Balderdash

* * * *
Balderdash,  Tripe,  Prattle, and Gibberish

* * * *
The Muddy Stream

* * * *
The Rare Bird

* * * *
Imagination’s Flurry

* * * *
Read It and Weep

* * * *
Ditty Madness

* * * *
The Immortals

* * * *
The Mortality Games

* * * *
The Immortality Games

* * * *
Connecting the Dots

* * * *
The Harbinger of Truth

* * * *
The Harbinger of Fate

* * * *
The Harbinger of Hope

* * * *
The Harbinger of Dread

* * * *
The Harbinger of Doom

* * * *
I, Hierophant

* * * *
Hell is in the Details

* * * *
The Indivisibility Game

* * * *
There Is Nothing Normal

* * * *
There Is Nothing Not Normal

* * * *
Awareness Unchained

* * * *
A Fistful of Breaths

* * * *
For a Few Breaths More

* * * *
The Good Breath, the Bad Breath, and the Ugly Breath

* * * *
Half-Baked

* * * *
Toasted

* * * *
Imagine That

* * * *
Such As It Is

* * * *
Futures Past

* * * *
Bon Voyage

* * * *
The Filament

* * * *
Ever Born, Ever Undying

* * * *
The Inexplicable You

* * * *
Time’s End

* * * *
Alas, Poor Yorick! Alas, Poor Monkey!

* * * *
Prior to Om

* * * *
The Peace of Emptiness

* * * *
A Collection of Synapses

* * * *
Gone Again

* * * *
The Abyss of Idiocy

* * * *
The Centric Clan: Ego, Ethno, Geo, Solar

* * * *
The Scalawag

* * * *
Playing to History

* * * *
Enough, Already!

* * * *
The Boy’s Life

* * * *
The Man’s Life

* * * *
The Girl’s Life

* * * *
The Woman’s Life

* * * *
More to Forget

* * * *
Yet Another Ground Hog Day

* * * *
A Web in Tatters

* * * *
The Snooze Button

* * * *
Too Hot, Too Cold, Whiners All.

* * * *
True Believer 101

* * * *
Tales of the Dead

* * * *
Ditties for the Pyre

* * * *
More Ditties for the Pyre

* * * *
And Still More Ditties for the Pyre

* * * *
The Midas Touch

* * * *
The Midas Touched

* * * *
The Midas Untouched

* * * *
Midas Unchained

* * * *
Strawberry Fields Forever

* * * *
The Litany of Agony

* * * *
The Litany of Ecstasy

* * * *
A Ghost in Time

* * * *
Come What May

* * * *
The Man Behind the Curtain

* * * *
The Co-Creation

* * * *
The Co-Creators

* * * *
Co-Creators All

* * * *
Welcome to Babbleon

* * * *
The Mind Behind Rose-Colored Glasses

* * * *
Civilization, If You Can Keep It.

* * * *
Pay No Attention to That Man Behind the Curtain

* * * *
Yay Oh Yay

* * * *
The Cinderella Complex

* * * *
The Sleeping Beauty Complex

* * * *
The Prince Charming Complex

* * * *
Needs Salt

* * * *
I, Buddha

* * * *
I, Tao

* * * *
I, Shiva

* * * *
I, Brahmin

* * * *
I, Christ

* * * *
I, God

* * * *
I, Allah

* * * *
The Roving Sun

* * * *
Zen Life, Zen Death

* * * *
Zen Mike

* * * *
Ten Thousand Chapters

* * * *
Doing Buddha

* * * *
Live Long and Prosper

* * * *
It’s a Monkey Thing

* * * *
The Plagiarism of Time

* * * *
The Madness That Is Sane

* * * *
The Conniving Mind

* * * *
Witness to the Dream

* * * *
The All-Seeing Eye

* * * *
The Quantum Circle

* * * *
The Quantum Emanation

* * * *
The Messiah Complex

* * * *
The Martyred Messiah

* * * *
The Living Death

* * * *
The Land of Wishful Thinking

* * * *
Boggling, Indeed

* * * *
The All-Seeing Mind

* * * *
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 Filters of Conception

* * * *
The Mythmaking Mind

* * * *
The End of Mind

* * * *
Give It No Name

* * * *
Detachment is Key

* * * *
Truth or Futility

* * * *
The Seven Deadlies

* * * *
Every Seed Has Its Fate

* * * *
Obnoxious Beasts

* * * *
The Accusatory Question

* * * *
Hive Earth

* * * *
The Walking Dead

* * * *
Nothing is Free

* * * *
You, Scientist

* * * *
The Freedom of Nothing

* * * *
Define Good, Define Bad

* * * *
Detachment Happens

* * * *
Flying Pigs

* * * *
The Happenstance of Evolution

* * * *
The Point Being?

* * * *
The Upper Class

* * * *
The Middle Class

* * * *
The Lower Class

* * * *
The Anonymity of Aloneness

* * * *
The Aloneness of Anonymity

* * * *
The Golden Pond of Catheters and Bedpans

* * * *
Emotional Lunacy

* * * *
Dust You Ever Are

* * * *
A Mystic's Journal

* * * *
Stand Alone

* * * *
The End of Ambition

* * * *
Clarity

* * * *
Recon Man

* * * *
Of Angels and Demons

* * * *
The Golden Horde

* * * *
The Demon Horde

* * * *
A Different Kind of Watching

* * * *
Doubt is a Rare Commodity

* * * *
Mind Your Own Awareness

* * * *
The Halliburton Wars

* * * *
Less is More

* * * *
More is Less

* * * *
Pretty Certain

* * * *
The Freedom of Dispassion

* * * *
Name That Judas

* * * *
Name That Vanity

* * * *
My Little War

* * * *
The Creative Way

* * * *
The Tipping Point

* * * *
As If You Were Never Born

* * * *
A Sea of Metaphors

* * * *
The Vehicle of Creation

* * * *
The Immutable Abode

* * * *
The Chatter of History

* * * *
Planned Obsolescence

* * * *
The Pitter-Patter-A-Puttering Mind

* * * *
A Speck in Time

* * * *
A Light in Time

* * * *
The Imaginary Moi

* * * *
A Window of History

* * * *
A Slice of History

* * * *
A Window of Perception

* * * *
Nothing to Do

* * * *
Spelunking Eternity

* * * *
Pigs and Lipstick

* * * *
Monkeys and Lipstick

* * * *
If Pigs Could Fly

* * * *
If Monkeys Could Fly

* * * *
Of Flying Pigs and Other Winged Creatures

* * * *
Of Flying Monkeys and Other Winged Creatures

* * * *
The Master

* * * *
The Journeyman

* * * *
The Apprentice

* * * *
Nothing Doing

* * * *
Holding Onto Nothing

* * * *
Not Holding Onto Nothing

* * * *
The Patrician

* * * *
The Plebeian

* * * *
The Plains of Banality

* * * *
The Mountains of Originality

* * * *
The Last Laugh

* * * *
Mind Without Myth

* * * *
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

* * * *
The Stillness of Eternity

* * * *
The Quantum Womb

* * * *
Drummer Boy

* * * *
The Prince

* * * *
The Geezer Prince

* * * *
The Princess

* * * *
The Princess Crone

* * * *
The Geezer Chronicles

* * * *
The Crone Diaries

* * * *
A Quantum of One

* * * *
The Digital Pale

* * * *
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


Hamlet:
Alas, poor Yorick! I knew him, Horatio; a fellow of infinite jest, of most excellent fancy;
He hath borne me on his back a thousand times; and now, how abhorred in my imagination it is!
My gorge rises at it. Here hung those lips that I have kissed I know not how oft.
Where be your gibes now? Your gambols? Your songs?
Your flashes of merriment, that were wont to set the table on a roar?
Yaj Ekim's Corollary:
Poof!

* * * *
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 your bones, but words will never harm you.
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


Home Again, Naturally

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

* * * *
Lived and learned, died anyway

* * * *
See ya in hell, boys and girls.
No, wait, aren't we already here?

* * * *
Bon voyage

* * * *
Go away kid, ya bother me

* * * *
One life is more than enough

* * * *
Now only worms and crawly things have to put up with me

* * * *
Michael Jay Holshouser

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

November 14, 1953
to
???

Forklift Driver
Taxi Cab Driver
Philosopher
Madman
Fool


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


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 mind of existence.

* * * *
Just not interested
In any more dog and pony shows,
Carny acts of the manifest kind, if you get the drift.

* * * *
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.

* * * *
Wandering about the insatiable ductless-glands-and-viscera-blue-pill world.

* * * *
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.

* * * *
If there is a way to fuck things up, what a knack I have always had finding it.

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

* * * *
A master of no-who, no-what, no-where, no-when, no-why, no-how.

* * * *
The imaginary moi awakens to a new day.

* * * *
Still walking on the green side of grass, this side of nothing.

* * * *
I, Chameleon

* * * *
Another ditty lost in the filament of mind.

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

* * * *
No, I don’t want to care about that.

* * * *
Maybe I'll get to it tomorrow, or maybe a day or three after that.

* * * *
The go-between of no-between is anybody’s guess.
Nonsensical as it sounds even to me,
I wrote it down anyway,
Just in case it makes sense to someone.

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

* * * *
Sure are a lot of things that don't much matter anymore, and the list longer everyday.

* * * *
Meme Michael

* * * *
Nothing I care to more than imagine doing.

* * * *
Survived another day, whoo-hoo.

* * * *
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.

* * * *
I, Hierophant

* * * *
Stretching the mind one ditty at a time.

* * * *
If perchance there is a god, a supreme being of one ilk or another,
Then he-she-it and I are going to have a serious discussion
Before I’m exiled to an even lower rung of hell.

* * * *
Each and every ditty is a sovereign island unto itself.
To compare, to combine, is to miss the pointless point.

* * * *
If I didn't do it, or couldn't do it,  I imagined it.
And if I didn't imagine it, so-well-oh-well, no big deal.

* * * *
Another day of snap-crackle-pop joy, yay oh yay.

* * * *
If there's more, great, sort of; it there's not, no big deal.

* * * *
Gradually, bit by bit, step by step,
The me-myself-and-I mind born of time,
Is dissolving back into the great indivisibility.

* * * *
Ran into the Buddha on the road the other day, and he be dead.

* * * *
Is it yesterday or tomorrow? I cannot remember, Ollie.

* * * *
The Dude abides.

* * * *
This mortal shell has indeed become a torture chamber.
The absence of pain and bother is pleasure anymore.
Oh, pride, envy, gluttony, lust, wrath, greed, sloth;
Where is thy scalawagian transcendence, now?

* * * *
Other than being creator-witness to this subjective theater,
This old boy is pretty darned useless to this world anymore.

* * * *
The Opus of the Devils Tower

* * * *
Playing to the audience of me-my-Self-and-I in the moiville of time,
Makes for a purer abstract of whatever thoughts come to mind.
It avoids the politics of trying to appease any given crowd.
Yielding to any meme, any groupthink, any limitation,
No matter how minimal, only muddies the streaming flow.

* * * *
Retirement is making it up one day at a time.

* * * *
Love is so droll.

* * * *
Sharing my process, my awakening, one ditty at a time.

* * * *
Whatever disorders of the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual sort that harbor within:
Neurocognitive, schizophrenic, dissociative, obsessive-compulsive, depression,
Impulse-control, posttraumatic stress, bipolar, conduct, personality,
And yadda yadda everything else modern-day psychology might postulate,
They continue to give rise to a never-ending scroll of wordplay in the given daze.

* * * *
I am awareness, you are awareness,
The entire manifest dreamtime is awareness,
All the same, all alone, all together, forever, such as it is.

* * * *
Doing nothing as time allows.

* * * *
The temptation to erase it all is hatching.

* * * *
Soon enough, I shall join the graveyard of dead philosophers,
And all this absurd babble will play to what end I need neither know nor care.
Likely as not, it will evaporate back into the prior-to-consciousness abyss all but unknown,
And the human species shall continue racing madly toward the dualistic destiny
Ordained by its vanity-laced Darwinian genomic predisposition,
Which is so oh-well-so-it-goes-deal-with-it-get-over-it-move-on the way it is,
In the grand schemelessness of all things manifestly grist-for-the-mill eternally indivisible.

* * * *
How I long for the old school daze,
Before all this inane technology overtook our lives,
When I could roam blissfully unaware, unconcerned, untroubled,
About what anyone else was doing or thinking, or whether or not they even existed.

* * * *
Sun warming the front, a lazy cool breeze to the rear,
I am it, and it is me, the wind betwixt and between.

* * * *
To all Christians and other faithful true believers,
While you have paid out ten percent of your hard-earned treasury
To sit in hard wooden pews, listen to mind-numbing sermons, and sing tedious hymns,
Pretending to love people you loathe, fearing a deity who is but an invention of irrational imagination,
Idolizing a martyr long dead that you might well detest if he were to actually show up,
I have spent many a Sunday sunrise enjoying long, contemplative wanders,
Breathing in and breathing out the one and only true cathedral.

* * * *
Sometimes this mind, this body, this world, this universe,
Feels like such a prison, to which death can be the only release.
Do it figuratively, do it literally, what matter in the dust-to-dust of it.

* * * *
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.

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

* * * *
Mad? You call me mad?
Well, my fine friend, that’s no great distinction in an insane asylum.

* * * *
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.

* * * *
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.

* * * *
A response to an article sent by cousin Steve Hunt:

Humans Are Genetically Predisposed to Kill Each Other
http://rdouglasfields.com/2016/10/humans-genetically-predisposed-kill/

No boubt adout it in my mind.  It is only because of consequences (e.g., San Quentin) that a fair number of people are still alive in my trail of existence.  I am a natural born killer who chooses not to.

Revenge has a long memory, I always say.  I suspect the trick to not getting caught carrying out any act of passion, is setting aside the passion, and coming up with a solid plan that includes things like no smoking gun, no fingerprints, no DNA, an alibi, and plausible deniability.  There are a fair share of perfect crimes committed daily by those who give it careful thought.  Politicians and bankers and bureaucrats are first and foremost examples.

* * * *
Response to Patrick Newman on the human paradigm:

It's been interesting being a human being, but I won't miss us.

* * * *
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.

* * * *
A response to an article sent by cousin Steve Hunt:

How Loneliness Begets Loneliness

Good article, well worth passing on, but not a major issue for me.  Ultimately, from my perspective we're all very much alone, so the trick is to discern the grace in being "alonely."  I've always been a self-sufficient sociable loner – being raised on a farm no doubt played a big part in learning to enjoy my solitude – and it's generally been relatively easy to chatter away with friends, acquaintances, and strangers.  Hanging out at coffee shops and the gym offer all kinds of regular interactions, and my philosophical view and writing, as well as all the online silliness, have provided outlets, as well.  "To have friends, you have to be a friend," is a line I heard years ago, and it has served me well.

* * * *
A response to Bart Marshall about his current projects, and how I started writing:

It's been a few years since I read the Bhagavad Gita, so I'll be looking forward to it.  Spent some time this morning reading up on the other thinkers you mentioned.  Though I hadn't heard of J.J. van der Leeuw, I'm familiar with the Theosophical Society and Krishnamurti, who was one of the early influences in the post-college era.  I attended a few of his talks in Ojai in the late 70's, and taught 5th grade a couple years at Oak Grove School after his death in the late 80's.  During the second year I finally hit the world-weary wall, and that, coupled with a concussion and fellow teacher giving me a copy of Nisargadatta's "I Am That," reset the course into seer-mode and all the many adventures and writings since.

* * * *
A response to cousin Steve Hunt on the state of things:

We're all slaves to one thing or another in this sorry-ass one-percenter world, and many if not most are far lower on the totem pole than you or I.

* * * *
A response to Patrick Newman on Christianity and history:

Two thousand years and counting, I always say.  The joke is on us that we allow history from thousands of years ago to steer this our modern world.  Boggling.

* * * *
A response to cousin Steve Hunt on computers and technology:

I long for the simplicity and tranquility of Old School.  What a blessing it was to wander about alone and unburdened by the weight of the world in all the many screens.

* * * *
A response to Berj Moosekian regarding the Buddha quest:

Was thinking after you left, that the Buddha quest is less about consciousness experiencing something more-more-more, than it is simply being free of a sense of identity, free of all the conditioning. free of all the delusion, free of all the inanity, free of all the weight of pretending to be a human being.  It is simply about being the awareness, unchained, at peace in the given moment.

* * * *
A response to an article sent by cousin Steve Hunt:

Stress really is killing us

Pretty astounding what hells our minds can create.  Just started Year Eight in my zen-guy retirement on April 1st.  Still feel some of the angst of the working world, but not near what goes on for you and all the folks in Silicon Valley.  I think being raised the son of a poor white farmer in a small rural town created far fewer expectations than you felt in your domain.  I tried to play the ambition game, but never really had the fire in the belly to take it far.

* * * *
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.

* * * *
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.

* * * *
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)


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


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