01 January 2015

Breadcrumbs & Other 2016


Greetings,

These are writings uploaded to the "Breadcrumbs" blog in 2016.  New additions were placed at the bottom of their respective sections:  Leftovers, Soundbites, Possible Titles, Corollaries, Possible Last Words & Epitaphs, or Breadcrumbs.  Some may be used in edit of "The Return to Wonder" blog, and will not be duplicated in the "Breadcrumbs" blog.  There may also be editing in some of the copy between any here and there.

Enjoy in joy as best ye may.

Ciao, ciao,


M


LEFTOVERS


Whether or not you chose to manifest in this dreamtime,
Is prior to all knowing, and need not be even the barest of concerns.
The point in fact is, you are here, you are now, and for perhaps no reason at all,
Which means you have the opportunity to play around a bit in whatever way may call you.
There will be consequences, there will be agony and ecstasy, there will be death.
Ultimately all smoke and mirrors, but certainly real enough at the time.

* * * *
The quantum cosmos, a hologram matrix of creation, preservation, destruction:
Rising, falling, ebbing, flowing, ever-churning through the stillness of awareness.

* * * *
How can the here-now, the ever-present moment, ever be born, destined to one day die?
How can that which is without attributes, that which is indivisible, ever exist?
How can there be light or dark?  Sound or silence?  Right or wrong?
How can there be any this, any that, in an indelible mystery,
In which time is not, has never been, will never be?

* * * *
In one quantum, all quantum; in all quantum, one quantum.
One for all, all for one, in the one and only indivisible there is.

* * * *
What is there but awareness.
To call it infinite or infinitesimal is meaningless.
To give it any purpose, to slather it with any attributes, is irrelevant.
To even brand it truth is a beyond-the-pale absurdity.

* * * *
Life is an ever-changing universe, a convoluted maze with many, many doors.
You wander through the halls of your mind’s translation, your imagination’s rendering.
Some doors open, some do not; some open easily, some never at all; some open now, but not later;
Some are locked now, but open later; and some, many, most, never will.
Each mind has its fate, but only looking back.

* * * *
The weight of the world is but imaginary notion.
Still the mind, ignore the senses, waylay all the desires and fears.
Attend the awareness prior to consciousness, and, poof,
The world disappears in the mists of eternity.

* * * *
The sexual compulsion, and the continuation, the proliferation, of the existence for which it evolved,
Is really nothing more than an instinctual, hypnotizing, overwhelming, primordial force,
A directive from the innermost reaches of every genomic strand across Gaia,
Striving to survive whatever “forever” the mortal faire allows.

* * * *
Nothing mattered before the beginning, and nothing will matter after the end.
And what is everything between but a stream of every sort of imaginary notion.

* * * *
The horror! The horror!
The absurdity! The absurdity!
The bother! The bother!

* * * *
Stop believing all the deceptions the conditioned mind endlessly weaves.
You are the eternal awareness: nothing more, nothing less, nothing but.

* * * *
What a desolate conception of god has emerged in so many human minds.
How can any abide any vision that is not all-inclusive, all-accepting?
Any view that is cloaked by every imaginable dogmatic absurdity?
What is the point and purpose of all this incessant, nonsensical conflict
Over what is, and has ever been, nothing more than fictional confabulation?

* * * *
What does any timeless, immaculate moment become but a snapshot in memory.
A marker encoded in the filaments of the neuron trail.
Imagination does the rest.

* * * *
The malevolence of resentment, envy, distrust, spite, suspicion, protectiveness,
Covetousness, bitterness, greed, jealousy, and hatred are not easy passions to resist.
Cultivate benevolence whenever possible if you hanker for peace, both within and without.
And, if not, well, there are indeed any number of boulevards to murder and mayhem.
There is, after all, a certain serenity, a certain equanimity in self-righteousness.

* * * *
Human consciousness is a vortex of desire and fear
And every variety of passion they foster,
Which will draw you in as far as you cannot resist,
With all the flesh and mind delights of Power, Fame, Fortune,
And the Seven Deadlies: Pride, Envy, Gluttony, Lust, Wrath, Greed, Sloth.

* * * *
How desolate the lives of those whose soul meaning
Is counting the coins in their mound of false gold.

* * * *
Any personal god is nothing more than an imaginary illusion-delusion.
You are the only thing personal wandering about this quantum mystery.

* * * *
No philosophy can ever more than point and sally at truth.
None can dictate more than piecemeal injunctions and futile remedies.
Language can never be anything more than barren distraction
From the inherent mystery peering out from within.

* * * *
Mother Gaia is becoming an ill-tempered, impatient dragon
At the unrelenting mismanagement of her elemental quantum nature
By the countless two-leggeds foolish enough to assert unrestrained dominance,
Over a mystery which can never be known, much less mastered.

* * * *
The clock hands go round and round and round, and you ever the same.
Whoo-hoo for eternity playing out the dream of space and time
In the awareness of your most thunder, perfect mind.

* * * *
You were told you were this, you were told you were that,
And now you meander the ever-present dream of space and time believing it all true.
A make-believe meme, a conditioned pattern, an autonomous invention,
Woven into the ceaseless chatter of the consciousness
Each and every moment streaming
In the clear space of timeless awareness.

* * * *
Regarding the contemporary destiny of this garden world,
Humanity seems intent on learning a very harsh lesson of balance
In a most strenuous, most convoluted, most painful manner.
Earth will abide, but as to whether life will or will not,
Has the jury waiting and watching a tad longer.

* * * *
Fabricating deities and grand complex schemas of heavens and hells and purgatories between,
Is really nothing more than a elaborate way of declaring how clueless you truly are.
Much more delusional, much more bothersome, much more absurd,
Than just being quietly, simply, honestly agnostic.
How much more profound it is to neither know nor care.

* * * *
How can the immaculate awareness you truly are
Ever be more, ever be less, than what it is right here, right now?
What is this fleeting corporal existence but a timeless dream, unborn, undying.

* * * *
Who-what-where-when-why-how are you,
But vain attachment to a sack of bones and goo,
A collection of filtered perceptions, of vague memories,
A meme, a recording, a scratchy record going round and round,
The same song playing over and over until breath and beat do you part.

* * * *
You are the witness, the arbiter of your version of this sensory-created mystery.
Even if you subscribe some well-established mindset, it is ever your interpretation.

* * * *
Using the tools of rhetoric to enhance empty agenda,
To embellish middling intelligence or emotional quotients,
Only undermines the power of reason in the pursuit of veracity.

* * * *
How could the timeless awareness you truly are,
That which is without attributes, that which is absolutely singular,
Ever be in any way different, or in anyway separate, from anyone or anything else’s?
There is no divisibility but through the imaginary notions of consciousness.

* * * *
What is heaven, what is hell, but potentials of mind given over to equanimity or volatility.
What more can any ask of their dreamtime than to have a mind at peace with its Self,
A mind that is content, a mind that is serene, a mind that is eternal unto its origin.

* * * *
Life is a long and ever-streaming swim.
Will you stay in the shallow end, the deep end,
Or wander back and forth as time calls?

* * * *
Chances are that the pain you are feeling so deeply is all in your head,
And if it actually is of the body sort, well that is not a forever thing, either.

* * * *
You are the mysterious unknown, peering out into a universe,
Entirely conceived by an organized collection of neurons.
Some sort of quantum be, quantum see, kind of thing.

* * * *
There is only the timeless instant, the eternal moment.
There is only right here, there is only right now.
There is no yesterday, there is no tomorrow.
In the ever-present hereness-nowness of the indivisible ever is.
There is no past, there is no future, there is no ever was, there is no will ever be.

* * * *
What is the universe of a crow, a tuna, a rat, a cockroach, a microbe?
How vain to believe yours any more real, any more important than theirs.

* * * *
In the ocean of indivisibility, the ocean of awareness, the ocean of consciousness,
In which all things in synchronicity move hither and thither, to and fro,
Existence is nothing more than a habit, a pattern, a recording,
A dream in which the nature-nurture of every seed
Plays out its timeless, inseparable part.

* * * *
To be aware each and every moment that none of this is ultimately real,
To not be mesmerized by the mind’s conditioned responses,
Only the rarest of the rare attain, or so they say.

* * * *
Taking personal responsibility is the foundation of all suffering.
What is the point of being responsible, being liable, being accountable,
For a universe, a world, an existence, you had no say in creating.

* * * *
The mystic does not conquer, subjugate, or annihilate,
But through surrender of the personal mind
To that which is total and absolute.

* * * *
How can anyone who has any wit, any savvy, any keenness, whatsoever,
Not doubt, not question, not think critically, is perhaps the greatest mystery.

* * * *
To recondition the mind into being timelessly ever-present,
Rather than being lost in time-bound imagery,
That is the eternal challenge.

* * * *
If you must hope for anything of this existence,
Hope for a quick, unexpected, painless death.

* * * *
Awareness is the timelessness through which consciousness fashions space-time.
There is naught but now, in which imagination casts itself hither and thither
Like a wind that cannot decide whether to be a zephyr or a hurricane.

* * * *
You have never seen you own face.
How could your frame of reference
Ever be the same as anyone else’s?

* * * *
Maybe you have got it, may you have not, but what is there to get, anyway?
You are awareness, you are absolute: nothing more, nothing less, nothing but.

* * * *
Everyone wandering hither and thither,
Each with their own uniquely eccentric soap opera,
Ebbing and flowing to and fro in their vain little monkey skulls.

* * * *
God, Brahman, Allah, Quantum, isness, oneness, absoluteness, totality,
And the infinity of sounds by which it might also be known,
All fluid words used interchangeably herein
To give homage to that which is prior to all names.

* * * *
Ain’t it amazing how much you do not know,
And yet the first and last knower all the while.

* * * *
A still rock is a still rock.
A still pond is a still pond.
A still mind is a still mind.

* * * *
Who am I? Well, I am me, the same me as you.
Both of us likely just as attached to our flesh and bone guises,
Just as attached to our vain notions in this garden’s play of nature-nurture.
We are all nothing more than a relatively brief play of differences
Cavorting in the same vast ocean of indivisibility,
Ultimately born of the same source,
The same awareness,
The same unknowable unknown.
Name it, label it, describe it, identify it, classify it,
Sanction it however you will, it is ever the same inexplicable essence.

* * * *
And why not be lazy and apathetic?
The human paradigm is set in flesh and bones.
Nothing will change enough to make it worth the bother.

* * * *
What do you think the mystery used but its own quantum clayness
To create, to witness, to fathom, you and your temporal universe?

* * * *
What is imagination but the neural wind of the mind.
Sometimes still, sometimes breeze, sometimes tempest.

* * * *
It is hard to fathom that rational scientific method does not reign across the board,
That superstition, mythology, make-believe, idolatry, dogma, fanaticism,
Still have such an enduring foothold in the human psyche.

* * * *
The passion of the mob can easily and quickly run strong and deep,
And life and limb come to great harm if/when the swell becomes too muddled.
Staying away, hunkering down, moving elsewhere, can often be among the safer tonics.

* * * *
What would Jesus have been saying if he had lived well beyond the martyred age of thirty-three?
Would it have been the same as the beyond-the-pale flimflam these last two thousand years,
Or would the tune have changed, morphed, evolved, into something far different?
The things we will never know are indeed-indeed well beyond counting.

* * * *
The quantum mystery will pretend
Whatever meaning and purpose you vainly imagine,
And not even one scintilla of it ultimately real or important all the while.

* * * *
At some point, is there really anything left in the bucket?
Is there anyone you desperately need to see again?
Anything you desperately need to do again?

* * * *
The Way is neither moral nor immoral.
Isness is not bound by any play of mind.

* * * *
Doubt will carry you to whatever falsehood you can abide,
And then on to the next and the next and the next and the next and the next,
Until you finally achieve that eternal moment where there are no more untruths to be had,
That unutterable, timeless realization where you finally, indelibly discern
That you are, and have always been, and will ever be,
The way and the truth and the life.
There is no other,
Playing out every possibility.

* * * *
It is more than a little dubious, more than a little moot,
That anyone bothers speaking out about the way they view reality,
When it so often provokes more conflict, more thistles, in the minds of others.
Far more rational, far wiser, far kinder, to go hang out alone in some anonymous venue,
Some serene garden bench, some understated front porch, imbibing the spaciousness of awareness.
Enjoying in solitude, in tranquility, what relatively little mortal dreamtime is left.

* * * *
You are your own witness, your own muse, born of the world, the universe,
That your many attachments to mind and body inspire you to believe real and true.
It is but a quantum dream, but one you must play out for as long as the mortal faire allows.

* * * *
Spiritual militancy only brews more dogma in an already dogmatized world.
Choosing the path of least resistance, declining to engage in gratuitous conflict,
Is the surest means to giving one’s Self over to the unbearable lightness of being.

* * * *
Attempting to replicate another's awakening is impossible.
You must perceive and witness your own mind,
Your own world, your own universe,
Unutterably alone.

* * * *
This dreamtime offers any educated mind incalculable ways to discern, to filter, this quantum theater.
Historian, scientist, mathematician, philosopher, anthropologist, sociologist, psychologist,
And on and on and on for minds born with the grit and gumption to learn.

* * * *
There is no political or economic or religious solution
To what is happening at the macro level of our two-legged paradigm.
We are acting no differently than bacteria charging towards the edge of a Petri dish.
Biology will out no matter how viable, how dexterous, how profound, how bona fide, the technology.
All the babble is, and has ever been, nothing more than meaningless mind gorp.

* * * *
How many zeroes to the right or left of the decimal point are really required
To discern all you really have is one very big, one very tiny,
Null and void coursing through it all.

* * * *
No need to pray for this or that, or that or this.
Just accept what comes, and let go what goes.

* * * *
All the feelings, all the thoughts, in this our human paradigm,
What are they but much ado about ductless glands and viscera.

* * * *
We tag this indelible mystery with so many names,
Shore it up with so many speculations,
All equally meaningless.

* * * *
We are all wandering in our own very unique, very subjective, very alone, version of a universe.
A timeless conundrum, an inexplicable mystery, an immeasurable dream,
From all beginnings to all endings.
None of us have ever seen our own face, and none of us ever will.

* * * *
Those who find themselves beneath the Bodhi Tree,
Or utterly alone for forty days and nights in the desert,
Are neither dull in wit, faint of heart, nor slothful in spirit.

* * * *
T-Shirt Karma,
Coffee Mug Dharma:
What Would Jesus Do?
What Would Lao Tzu Do?
What Would Nietzsche Do?
What Would Siddhartha Do?
What Would Mohammed Do?
What Would Zoroaster Do?
What Would Krishna Do?
What Would Waldo Do?
What Will You Do?

* * * *
Where is the division between consciousness and unconsciousness
For anyone giving the mind and all its movements their full attention.

* * * *
You are, indeed, a quantum jester.
A fool, a wit, a wag, a tool, for the indivisible unknown
To tarry for the briefest of whiles in an imaginary dream of space and time.

* * * *
What need do those who have awakened,
Those who have transcended all doubt,
Those who wander in unburdened awareness,
Have for any questions, or the answers they project.

* * * *
Some answers are far too infinite, some far too infinitesimal, for any question,
And those who query only hear the predictable echoes of their own projections.

* * * *
The mind is a castle keep, and the awareness you truly are its sovereign.
To allow no other to haphazardly trample about the dominion
Is to hold fast against the tempests of consciousness.

* * * *
Would that life were more fair, and suffering not such a mainstay.
In the draw of the genetic lottery, some get a royal flush,
While others cannot even score a high card,
And the remainder muddle in the abyss between.
The winds of nature-nurture carry us where they will.

* * * *
History is so much greater than any culture, any philosophy, any mound of gold.
And the world, the universe, the quantum field, is far greater than anything imaginable,
And the unknowable, the indivisible, the nothingness, prior to all manifestation, is trump to all.

* * * *
It takes a great deal of courage, a great deal of detachment,
To not take life, to not take this world, this dream, personally.

* * * *
Travel time?  Travel space?
How can something that does not exist be traveled?
How can you be anywhere but the here now in which you ever indivisibly reside?
Imagination, the quixotic author of this enigmatic quantum stagecraft,
Is the only time traveler there has ever been, or will ever be.

* * * *
What are you, what is any form, but a derivative of the indivisible totality.
All but infinitesimal widgets thingamajigging within the ever-kaleidoscoping quantum matrix.
Consciousness claiming to be this or that is but the delusion of imagination
Identifying with ever-changing temporal circumstance.

* * * *
The mystery plays out every preposition:
In-on, at-to, before-after, over-under, above-below, up-down, plus-minus, since-until,
inside-outside, with-without, around-through … et cetera,
And none of it all the while.

* * * *
Your original state was absolutely, indivisibly, unconditionally flawless.
The only question is whether that unutterably formless, timeless emptiness,
That immaculate awareness prior to consciousness, prior to all whims of mind,
Can be steadfastly reestablished while immersed in the given day-to-day.
It is a homecoming only the rarest of the rare ever contemplate.

* * * *
All things under every star across the great unknown
Are of the same quantum essence ever churning anew.

* * * *
You are as large as you are small, as short as you are tall.
What is the starry-starry universe but the untouchable you,
And the beaten path, the you upon which you daily tread.

* * * *
Is there thought without vanity, self without arrogance?
Is a question that requires rigorous observation
By each and every witness so-inclined.

* * * *
We are what we have always been: self-absorbed in every which-way imaginable.
There are already far too many of our kind, and daily more and more,
And in spite of our indelible aptitude at inventing every conceivable thingamajig,
It is inevitable that we will ultimately prove incapable of surviving our Frankenstein creation.

* * * *
Life is death and death is life; the two are indivisibly intertwined in this dream of time.
To cling to one or the other is to entirely miss the point that neither truly are or are not.

* * * *
No quarter given, no quarter taken,
The ultimate Darwinian reality in this manifest theater.
Might makes right in every dreamer’s dream.

* * * *
This mystery is too incomprehensible to even try to shroud it with rhyme or reason,
And yet we do again and again and again. each and every mind born afresh,
Striving to comprehend the ever-mystifying nature of the given maze.
Is it any wonder saloons are full and needles litter the streets.

* * * *
Look deadly, be deadly; look deadly, be harmless;
Look harmless, be deadly; look harmless, be harmless.
Survival is as survival does in this indivisible quantum Eden,
This garden of good and evil born of imagination’s egocentric notion.

* * * *
Your illusory cosmos is your teacher, it is your frame of reference.
it is a interminable streaming of faces and places and every variety of form.
It is all the creatures from large to small, it is galaxies beyond what any eye can see.
It is words and numbers and sounds and symbols, and whatever else consciousness aspires.
It is the imaginary mind, it is the imaginary you, it is the imaginary not you.
And through it all, the ubiquitous awareness you truly are,
Ever the indifferent, solitary witness.

* * * *
Ethics is the luxury of a full belly and a safe harbor.
Might makes right, it always has, it likely always will.
The best any can hope for is a benevolent claw and fang.

* * * *
Who-what-where-when-why-how is the boundary between pleasure and pain,
Or are agony and ecstasy, suffering and happiness, anguish and joy,
Nothing more than points along a neurological continuum,
A survival mechanism that evolved long, long ago,
In the nervous system all animals share.

* * * *
All this time, all this effort, all this angst, all this sillines,
Only to finally figure out that it is all nothing more than a touchy-feely dream
Sponsored by an inexplicable quantum feed.
Argh, indeed.

* * * *
What is human history but the ever-predictable monkey-mind,
Rolodexing its muddle of consciousness over and over and over.

* * * *
And to the end of time, to the end of daze,
The scholars and the researchers and the mathematicians
And the academics and the thinkers and the experts and the philosophers
And the authorities and the specialists and the highbrows and the eggheads and the polymaths,
Measured and calculated and gauged and quantified and evaluated to the nth degree
Every this and that clearly obvious to most everyone else from the get-go.

* * * *
You are very much alone, you have always been very much alone,
And despite the hypnotizing sensory play about you,
You will ever be very much alone.
How else could the singularity be single?

* * * *
In every end, it will be as it was in every beginning,
As it was in every meridian and every twinkling in every between,
And as it is in every imaginable before, as it is in every imaginable after, as well.
Any notion that your “youness” is in any way separate from the eternal
Is nothing more than the delusion of the sensory mind-body.

* * * *
Each and every timeless, streaming moment passes the same.
Call it second, call it minute, call it hour, call it day, call it night, call it this year or that,
It is ever the same quantum eternity dancing in its own illumination,
And you, the awareness, its creator and witness.

* * * *
Awareness is the perceiving, awareness is the observing, awareness is the witnessing.
There is no observer, there is no witness; the source is not a thing, it is not consciousness,
It is not at all attached to any who, any what, any where, any when, any why, any how.
It merely is – indivisibly, indescribably, timelessly– free and clear of all attributes.

* * * *
The eternal salvation so many glibly guarantee is up to you to alone discern.
Even if you follow a trusted guide up an arduous, rocky mountain trail,
You are still required to endure each and every step along the way.

* * * *
Time is the streaming of consciousness.
There is no time in the heart of awareness.
Abandon the ticking clock lodged in your mind,
And apperceive the timeless, immeasurable beingness
You truly are, have ever been, will ever be.

* * * *
Do not be ensnared by the temporal mind-body you imagine your Self to be.
It is but ductless glands and viscera, a vehicle of relatively fleeting duration

* * * *
Everyone marches to the beat of one drum or another.
Some are too loud to be heard, others too muted not to be.

* * * *
The indifferent known, the indifferent unknown,
The indifferent universe, the indifferent world, the indifferent space-time,
The indifferent quantum, the indifferent mind-body, the indifferent who-what-where-when-why-how,
The indifferent now, the indifferent awareness, the indifferent truth, the indifferent false,
The indifferent everything, the indifferent nothing, the indifferent whatever,
All the same indifference masked by every indivisible guise.

* * * *
This spinning orb is the universe’s insane asylum, oft times called Hell.
For shards of Soul who believe they are separate from the null and void.

* * * *
This manifest theater, this temporal realm,
Concocts an inexhaustible diversity of bullshit.
So it goes. deal with it, get over it, move on.
Alone and absolute, if you can manage it.

* * * *
Discern the timeless stillness of the awareness prior to consciousness.
Become that peace, that tranquility, that calmness, that that serenity.

* * * *
Everyone would do well to challenge, to confront, their imaginary deities,
Their superstitions, their fallacies, their delusions, and whatever other dreads,
At least once and awhile to find out if anything noteworthy really happens.
Take a scientific approach rather than be some meme-ridden puppet.

* * * *
In any given life there are some good decisions,
Some mediocre decisions, and some really bad decisions.
Regrets are no doubt piled high and cringing in any given mind.
Oh well, so it goes, deal with it, get over it, move on.

* * * *
The incalculable theaters of mind already come and gone in the human paradigm
Ever delineate the future, ever forge the options of new generations,
Ever channel them into unprecedented venues,
From which they cast their progeny into their rendering.

* * * *
What is human existence but an ever-streaming play of consciousness,
An ever-kaleidoscoping play of some given mind attached to some given circumstance,
An ever-emanating play of minds mesmerized by every imaginable difference
That the delusions of sensory illusion can fashion real and true.
Ultimately nothing more than the quantum enigma
Playing a game of light and shadow.

* * * *
The purgatory of consciousness offers only fragmented peace.
Heaven is the motionless oblivion of pure, unfiltered awareness.

* * * *
The time born of mind reigns through the continuity of its many memes, its many patterns.
Consciousness reinforces these repetitive cultural blueprints through conditioning.
Relatively few are inclined to free themselves from their domesticated lot,
To discern the timeless awareness at the cradle of all imagined.

* * * *
Gaia is in the remorseless, fell grip of the monkey-mind.
The fruit of the garden is fated to be its cancerous demise.

* * * *
Quantum awareness, quantum consciousness: omniscient, omnipresent, omnipotent.
What more god could you possibly witness? What more god could you possibly be?

* * * *
To see the reality of this awareness clearly, to discern what you truly, undoubtedly, are,
You must have the concentration and fortitude of a tightrope walker crossing a canyon.

* * * *
Self pity, what an odious waste.
Besides which, what is the point of feeling wretched
Given that you are doomed: doomed to suffering, decline, and annihilation,
No matter how you pander your sentiments about it.

* * * *
What is the universe but a quantum creation spun of nothing,
And every existence witness to a unique cosmos of patterned design,
As devised by the senses in their eternal perception of the winds of illusion.

* * * *
We are only joking ourselves if we think anyone,
Much less anyone in the political-economic-religious forum,
Is going to steer a safer course, much less turn our little Titanic around.
We only exist, we only abide, at this absurd level of beyond-the-pale statistical intrigue
Because of oil and our beyond-the-pale tool-making ability, coupled with an insatiable greed for more.
There is no happy ending, no over the rainbow, to the horror story daily unfolding.
Economic and environmental collapse is inevitable;
How and when the only question.

* * * *
Consciousness concocts every imaginable speculation
To grapple with this inexplicable quantum mystery,
But its ultimate reality of is prior any metaphor.

* * * *
What is the dreaming state – the thoughts, the images, the sensations – of sleep,
But the incessant movement of the mind without sensory reference points?
Is there really a division between consciousness and sub-consciousness,
Or is it merely the mind facing or not facing whatever reality is unfolding?

* * * *
The mind is a weaving of attachment to all its imagery.
Everything though and done is founded upon the conditioning
Of space-time since the inception of its first perception.

* * * *
Consciousness is the movement, the vibration, the lightning storm, of the brain.
Mind is fabricated by the attachment to the many emotional and conceptual patterns,
The conditioning, to which it abides for whatever sojourn the dreamtime of quantum ordains.

* * * *
It is a perpetual yellow brick road littered with non sequitur.
So it goes, deal with it, get over it, move on.
Awareness, alone, serene.

* * * *
What is any description, any identification, any categorization, any hypothesis, any stereotype,
But a gray matter pigeonhole in which assumptions can be warehoused,
Taken out, cooked, and served up as needed.

* * * *
It is the nature of reflective, earnest doubt that no lie will long suffice.
Once you embark on this solitary journey to discern the truth of this implacable mystery,
There will be a never-ending array of ever-enticing interruptions and diversions.
Every sort of blind alley, roadblock, dead end, and impasse imaginable.
But there will be no turning back, there will be no stopping.

* * * *
Which came first, the chicken or the egg?
What does it matter, they are both illusion.

* * * *
If you give your self over to Self,
Things just seem take care of themselves
In a way that only you very much alone can witness.
No need to pray to some idol, no need to worship some god,
Just being fully in the ever-kaleidoscoping moment is more than enough.

* * * *
What is a reasonable profit in commerce, and what is usury,
Depends upon who contrives the rules of the game,
And what the market will bear or bull.

* * * *
Achieving the so-called higher states of consciousness
– Detachment, wisdom, harmony, serenity, equanimity, contentment –
Are especially arduous, and take a great deal of practice.

* * * *
So many issues ahead in this, the world our kind has crafted:
Overpopulation, resource depletion, pollution, waste and waste disposal,
Ocean acidification, acid rain, ozone layer depletion, global warming, climate change,
Loss of biodiversity, habitat loss, deforestation, urban sprawl, water scarcity,
Economic mayhem, warfare, terrorism, civil unrest and pestilence.
To name a few.

* * * *
The awareness you are is within all life from the smallest to greatest, all across creation.
So you are every moment being born, you are every moment dying.
Life and death, how are they not the same?

* * * *
Standing for nothing is the only way to avoid the exceedingly common human delusion
That existence has some paramount meaning and purpose, that values are authentic and true,
That morals, that ethics, are more than just vain concoctions of a species that has yet to come to terms
With the fact that they are but temporal consequences of evolutionary happenstance.

* * * *
Always agreeable to have enough coins of the realm to stay more than just afloat,
But too big a pile can wander into the exceedingly bothersome domain of cursedom.

* * * *
Thought has a tendency to get caught up in one little-self fixation after another.
To dwell in the no-self zone requires great detachment from the world,
And all the incalculable universes that emerge and subside
Upon an constantly changing elemental crust,
That basks in the radiance of a relatively temperate star.

* * * *
You are the sacrifice, your life has been chosen,
And you are carrying a cross of your own making.
We are all martyrs of our own imaginary notion.

* * * *
We must all go-through-it-to-see-through-it on so many things.
It is the nature of the beast that we all must all embark anew.

* * * *
What sense can perceive the eternal conundrum of awareness?
What attribute can prove it? What word can define it? What mind can bind it?
Awareness is the sovereignty of all things imperceptible, unprovable, indefinable, unbindable.

* * * *
You are the eternal awareness experiencing manifest form.
To die to the little self is not physical death, but psychic death.
It is awakening, it is being born again, into the Self you truly are.

* * * *
Call it all progress if you will,
But that which is not in harmony with natural law,
Has ever been little more than a long and winding road through perdition.

* * * *
The dormancy of a deep, deep sleep is the recharging of the vitality.
All the activity of personal mythos, all the sensory shimmering in that imaginary center,
All that desire and dread and passion grind down the corporeal mind-body.
It goes home for a little oblivion, interrupted only by dreams.

* * * *
An indifferent universe witness by an indifferent awareness.
Is the notion of caring any less capricious than the wind?

* * * *
Those to whom you are closest,
Those upon whom you can depend,
Manifest reliable affection and respect.
They may or may not be related by genome.

* * * *
Once you discern there is something more than the mundane temporal to this existence,
Once you realize awareness is the source code to this dreamtime, the rest is up to you.

* * * *
No matter how vividly you might remember anything,
It is nothing more than the mind caught in imaginary notion,
Not the sensory perception of the unfolding moment itself.

* * * *
How quickly attitude can turn on its head.
How quickly perspective can morph into some contrary state.
How quickly white can become black, light become shadow, good become evil,
Clear become murky, more become less, hit become miss, right become wrong, love become hate,
Similar become different, have become have not, smile become frown, ecstasy become agony,
Flexible become rigid, pleasure become pain, interest become tedium, full become empty,
Kindness become intolerance, compassion become cruelty, inclusion become isolation,
Moderation become excess, exotic become tedious, eloquence become incoherent,
Positive become negative, respect become disdain, esteem become loathing,
Logic become arbitrary, harmony become discord, benevolence become malice,
Modesty become vain, honor become shame, virtue become vice, refined become coarse,
Yes become no, trust become suspicion, tolerance become prejudice, sensible become absurd,
Soft become hard, unconditional become qualified, sincerity become irony, reason become paradox,
Deep become shallow, hot become cold, happiness become sorrow, respect become contempt,
Freedom become coercion, paradise become dystopia, indivisible become divisible,
Reality becomes illusion, truth become delusion, red pill become blue pill,
And vice versa and hither-thither gray on all of the above, as well.
What is the psyche but a swirling cauldron of passion.

* * * *
Why in any god’s name would anyone ever need to kill anyone else,
Simply because they do not see this unfathomable mystery the same way?
How stupid must stupid be before stupid wakes up to its stupidity?

* * * *
Whether coincidences are anything more or less
Than the mystery creaking silently away in its synergistic fashion,
All speculations aside, is well beyond the pay grade of we playing out the mortal realm.

* * * *
You have always been very much alone.
Your attempts to avoid it have always proven futile.
It is your eternal nature no matter the diversity streaming about.

* * * *
You have often witnessed the absurdity, the inanity, the insanity,
Of those who thoughtlessly, fearfully, abide in one form of ignorance or another.
Seek out those who freely tender sound and compassionate wisdom,
And then only to listen, to learn, and perchance to own.

* * * *
And what is wisdom but seeing the relativity of all things,
And flowing easily, content, between the insights all garner.

* * * *
Somehow the mysterious indivisible quantum glue of the eternal now
Holds together each and every streaming holograph moment one into the next.
It is just all too fucking boggling for consciousness to ever wrap its wee little mind around.

* * * *
You cannot see what you cannot see.
You cannot feel what you cannot feel.
You cannot hear what you cannot hear.
You cannot taste what you cannot taste.
You cannot smell what you cannot smell.
You cannot know what you cannot know.

* * * *
What many call love is not without endless arrays of conditions.
It is worm-ridden with expectations and tradeoffs and manipulations.
Anything less than that which is unconditional is not love, pure and simple.

* * * *
Humanity is only as great as its capacity to synergize itself and the web of life to continuation.
To embrace destruction and death over of guardianship is a sure road to chaos and extinction.

* * * *
Some seem born with a certainty about their destiny,
Some never determine any particular fate calling their name,
And some must wait until late in the game to get their ticket punched.

* * * *
The sins of the universe are erased when the original nature is realized.
The notion of good and evil is nothing more than human vanity
Playing out patterning bred in the jungles of long ago.

* * * *
There will be no end to the human narrative, to human storytelling,
As long as there is imagination to sustain the underlying collusion.

* * * *
In the worship of any god or gods,
What are individuals or groups really doing,
But bowing and scraping to imaginary confabulations?

* * * *
You must be very fearless undo all that has been done to tackle the unknown.
It is a yellow-brick-road journey from which you will not return as you were.

* * * *
Learn to learn for learning’s sake, for its intrinsic meaning.
Do not learn just for grades; do not learn simply to regurgitate.
Do not learn purely for little rectangles of paper framed on a wall.
Do not learn merely for the sake of a few letters following your name.

* * * *
To state this ethereal kaleidoscoping dreamtime is all one, quantum fact that it is,
Is for many little more than some after-the-fact-romantic-lyrical notion.
The timeless awareness is the ever-present, intangible reality,
And consciousness, despite all its skillful wordplay,
Can in reality never do much more than grunt and point.

* * * *
Though it is countless times the greatest of challenges,
You are, in the you-are-the-world view, your world’s keeper,
For there is not one part or particle that is not
As equally quantum as your Self.

* * * *
Feel the creator, feel the preserver, feel the destroyer, you every moment are.
You are immortal:  No nee to argue it, no need to fear it, no need to idolize it.

* * * *
The challenge for each and every one of us two-leggeds is to first and foremost,
Be our own best friend, our favorite companion, our treasured beloved,
And abstain as often as possible from being our own worst enemy.

* * * *
At some point in the hereness, at some point in the nowness,
Some minds, bit by bit, little by little, awaken to the given conditioning.
Awaken to the great doubt, the great question, and in that calamity of consciousness,
Begin a long and winding and solitary journey towards eternal reunion.

* * * *
Enthrallment with any of the assorted forms of occult power,
Whether it be called paranormal, sorcery, mysticism, spirituality, religion, or ad infinitum,
Are nothing more the continuing dance of consciousness with illusion.

* * * *
Tombs preserve nothing but the dread and hope of a fictitious reality.
The mind-body is an ephemeral means, a temporal carousel,
Ultimately nothing more than a prospective repast
For a variety of worms and other critters.

* * * *
You may have hurt and used many; you may have had many enemies.
When you see your responsibility, and abide the lessons learned,
You are freed of the bothersome burden of regret and hatred.

* * * *
Is the intensity awash in the true believer’s eyes
Really anything more than the vanity of consciousness
Embroiled in its own double-double-toil-and-trouble brew?

* * * *
You wander from trend to trend, craze to craze, believing you live meaningfully.
What folly to think pleasure after pleasure will satisfy the ceaseless yearning for more.
The insatiable craving of consciousness for everlasting exhilaration is a barren vine.

* * * *
Those who would explore the expanses of the eternal mind
Will wander through many cycles of limbo, of anguish, of despair.
In the play of consciousness, there are no heights without nadirs between.

* * * *
Yet another walking-talking dittohead meme.
A babbling brook may well make more sense.

* * * *
Every culture across the world, across time,
Has indoctrinated its young to think a certain way.
All are imprisoned in one form of conditioning or another.
Even the greatest doubt must deal with the given mind.

* * * *
Telescopes and microscopes, and all the technologies,
Have conveyed humanity to every conceivable large and small,
But it is ever the same sensory set, the same monkey-mind, filtering it all.
We are both masters and slaves to our tool-making capabilities,
And the imagination to which we so earnestly cling.

* * * *
Any given existence is just one thing after another:
Twinklings of delight punctuated by stretches of misery,
An indivisible dance from whatever beginning to whatever end.

* * * *
No fun being on a cross,
And playing statue in a back yard
Is not really much to write home about, either.

* * * *
Someone may point out this inexplicable, indivisible mystery,
And perhaps offer thoughts and suggestions and cautions and encouragement.
Call them teachers, call them gurus, call them priests, call them mystics, call them what you will.
But there are no followers in the journey, the expedition, the quest, the pursuit, for Self.
There are no disciples, no believers, no devotees, no partisans, no adherents.
Only friends and acquaintances, and perhaps the vexing adversary,
All inquiring, very much alone, into what is real and true.

* * * *
In the innermost voyage of awakening,
Attachment to the given mind-body has less and less footing.
From the ultimate panorama, the corporeal arrangement, the perceptual patterning,
Is nothing more than a temporal, sensory vehicle,
A means, not an end.

* * * *
There are those who journey about the world,
And remain as insular as the day they departed the womb.
And there are world travelers, cosmic dancers,
Who need not step off the front porch.

* * * *
There can really only be one source to this mystery.
The only question is whether it wears a Christian face,
A Muslim face, a Buddhist face, a Taoist face, a Hindu face,
Or any face at all.

* * * *
Life happens.
Death happens.
Nothing happens.

* * * *
There can only be so many geniuses in any given arena of spirited endeavor,
Otherwise any given fourth or so standard deviation would be but a new normal.

* * * *
What is any pattern but an energy system
Interacting seamlessly with other energy systems
In one vast indivisible all-in-one-one-in-all quantum sea.

* * * *
If you don’t say it now, if you don’t do it now, whatever it is won't get done.
Now's the one and only moment, now’s one and only the time, now's the one and only way.
No matter who-what-where-when-why-how says it, no matter who-what-where-when-why-how does it,
If it isn’t said now, if it isn’t done now, how else will time play out its imaginary day?

* * * *
Life and death are intertwined: one is not without the other
In each and every moment of this play of imaginary design.

* * * *
It is attachment to one parochial mindset or another,
Attachment to one narrow-minded, insular vision or another,
That blinds so many to the fact that the same truth is indivisible in all.

* * * *
The gods of the electromagnetic spectrum run the gamut from long waves to short,
From the cosmic rays to the broadcast bands: the gamma rays, the x-rays,
The ultraviolets, the infrareds, the microwaves, the radars, the radios,
And whatever other idolatrous icons indivisibly radiates between and betwixt.

* * * *
You are the quantum program,
You are the quantum programmer,
Creation creating a quantum mirage.

* * * *
The great unknown, a mystery prior to the spontaneity of creation.
No need to fear it, no need to worship it, no need to bow or scrape to it,
No need to name it, no need to dogmatize it, no need to swath it in laurels.
No need to do anything other than to simply be it, as awareness allows.

* * * *
The sea of awareness knows no time,
Knows no space, is bound by no limitation.
What words could ever suffice to expound eternity?

* * * *
All mythologies are mind-made narratives; none abide in the eternal abyss.
They are not foundations to anything more than arbitrary, capricious cultural memes.
Thumb-sucking security blankets for those unable to endure alone the winds of temporal illusion.

* * * *
There is no normal, no ordinary, no typical, no common, no average, no conventional,
Just a world full of bat-crazy two-leggeds who think they are rational,
And band together into memes and dogmatize about it.

* * * *
Jesus ain’t coming back, and you won’t, either.
Each existence is a one-time show courtesy of the given seed,
And the ever-churning matrix into which it is cast.

* * * *
Light is a timeless function of the senses projecting into the mind.
Without their every-moment role as creators of time and space,
What light would be possible, what light would be necessary?

* * * *
Do not be bound by the constraints of this mortal theater.
It is but a play of capacities and limitations.
What is, is without attributes,
And that is the I Am you in reality are.

* * * *
All is indivisibly flawless-faultless-seamless-immaculate.
Only the worldly mind grapples with it as anything less.

* * * *
Free your Self of the concept of original sin,
The dualistic notion decreed by ignorance upon innocence,
That you were involuntarily forced into by being cast into the human epoch.
None are born wicked, none are born offending any god or gods,
None are born transgressing any moral imperative.
There is no sin, no evil, only separation.

* * * *
Identification with any person, any place, any thing, any quality, any action,
Will only confabulate suffering for you and everyone entering your shadow.

* * * *
Why be envious of experiences others are fated to play out?
Are any parts really, truly, more important than your own?
Not even one iota of quantum stardust could be more or less.

* * * *
In the figurative, rhetorical, metaphorical sense, we all commit suicide.
Merely by having been flung into existence by the genetic lottery,
Each seeks out, through many choices, consciously or not,
One manner of tangible decline and fall or another.

* * * *
Discern the nature of any life form
In the awareness peering through their eyes.
There are none who are not cousins of the same puddle.

* * * *
Asceticism is very challenging because sensory pleasures are so tantalizing.
The pain they create is easily overlooked until the cost outweighs the return.

* * * *
You are reminded of your immortality, yet choose the death of separation.
All for a few coins, the vanity of the senses, and an ceaseless variety of illusive dreams.
We are all parts in each other's plays, witnesses to an infinite diversity.
Use your awareness to discover the unicity of it.

* * * *
You may have traveled long, you may have traveled far,
But through all those countless kaleidoscoping undertakings,
When have you not been the timeless-stillness-hereness-nowness?

* * * *
What species is not bound to the capricious nature
Of the niche, of the nooks and crannies, in which they evolved.
Some may be more adaptable to change than others,
But all must abide in one yoke or another.

* * * *
Belief is a spurious brainchild of dualistic notion.
To believe implies that the subject is not connected to the object,
That the beingness is some dynamic force outside you, the observer, the witness.
It is a denial of the unicity of all that is seen, and all that is unseen.

* * * *
You are perchance here to discover the source of your beingness.
If and when that happens is souly up the fate to which you feel called.

* * * *
Everyone and everything is of the same source.
Everyone and everything has full and free access to it,
If they have the wit, the interest, the attentiveness, to discern it.
There is absolutely no point in quarreling over it.

* * * *
What need for belief? What need for creed? What need for faith? What need for prayer?
What insecure beasts we are that such inflated, hollow notions are given more import
Than the timeless awareness offered in each and every kaleidoscoping moment.

* * * *
From whence comes the ever-present voice you are within and without,
Is your portal to the awareness you truly are, have ever been, will ever be.
Make the call, take the plunge, score the deal, play the choiceless, ever now.

* * * *
Declare to your Self what Jesus is rumored to have said:
“I am the way and the truth and the life. No one comes to the Father except through me.”
Now, discern the undogmatic truth that statement really implies.

* * * *
You many accumulate much gold and many possessions,
But in the final reckoning, it how well you addressed your heart and mind
That will prove to be the greatest treasure, the greatest gift.

* * * *
You purchase, you barter, you gather, you maintain, you consume,
In every way your time and space allows, yet what are you in the reality
Before all beginnings, after all endings, and within every play of light between,
But an indivisible fistful of timeless, inviolable, undying, quantum dust?

* * * *
Anger, annoyance, irritation, indignation, antagonism, bitterness, wrath, rage, fury:
How challenging not to give oneself over to its remorseless, unquenchable passion.

* * * *
Look at all the stress, all the strain, all the worry, compounding daily in your mind.
All because desire and fear are locked in a self-torturing dance.
To what end, Pilgrim, to what end?

* * * *
The weaving of doubt and negation are the magic carpet, the ruby slippers,
That will get you back to the integrity of the eternal mind,
The virtuousness of the eternal life.

* * * *
Where are you in the bell curve,
The rise and fall, of the human paradigm?
Who can say but those at its end?

* * * *
It is the nature of the beast, the Darwinian genome within all of us,
That even the most well-intentioned, the most conscientious, the most diligent,
Run the risk of harming others to some degree at least occasionally.

* * * *
Just because you are unhappy with the powers that be
Does not mean you hand it over to the village idiot.

* * * *
As you skim this thought, everything manifested, everything quantum, is ever shimmering anew.
A wave of life comes into being, another crashes down, and many roil in the between.
Wave after wave after wave, timeless, without beginning, without end.

* * * *
The obvious fact is that every life form
Is a drop of that which is the truth, the life, and the way.
To maintain any lesser vision is delusional, and serves no significant purpose,
Other than to create perpetual, meaningless, divisive struggle.

* * * *
In this ever-changing cause-and-effect reverie, there is no going back, there is no rewind button.
You cannot change what is not changeable, you cannot mend what is not mendable.
You must enjoy in ecstasy or endure in agony whatever consequences
Your ephemeral window of dreamtime has in store.

* * * *
There is much more faith in timelessly abiding in the awareness of the given moment,
Accepting whatever gifts, enduring whatever tortures, the eternal dreamtime manifests,
Than can ever be concocted by any fear-based belief system fabricated of the human mind.

* * * *
Does the dreamtime in your head
Ebb and flow from one extreme to another?
Only you can fathom the many thoughts, the many passions,
To which you so steadfastly, resolutely cling.

* * * *
All belief systems of mortal persuasion are fear-based, greed-laced, and mundanely played.
It takes much more courage to stand alone, absolute and free in the indivisible dreamtime of eternity,
Than it ever will milling about, mindlessly ditto-heading with any time-bound, idolatrous herd.

* * * *
What a curious thing to believe anyone across the world
Is ever thinking about you as relentlessly as you yourself do.
Even the most saintly of mothers moves on at some point.

* * * *
You must investigate existence for your Self.
All the words in the cosmos will not magic-carpet you there.
It is a scientific experiment that must be replicated by all, very much alone.

* * * *
Your mortal stance, when contrasted to the eternity you truly are,
Is really no longer than that of a fruit fly, or even the universe.
What is it that entices you to believe this worldly theater real?

* * * *
You want to hold onto everyone and everything so badly.
No doubt sand falling through fingers feels the same.

* * * *
Every life form is bound to one niche or another,
And can only carry on as long as its adaptability to change allows.
The web of life is interconnected in countless ways, and those who shred it too harshly,
Must eventually face the reality of their own adaptability forever undone.

* * * *
In less than a blink of a blink of blink,
All is undone and done, again and again,
An infinity of times prior to all counting.

* * * *
What an incredible thing to give your dream over to whatever winds blow,
To sail through life, no direction known, tacking to and fro as caprice dictates,
Each and every harbor yet another quest, another exploration, another adventure.
To set aside dread and desire, to leave behind all who would dictate otherwise,
Is a life for which only the rare few have either enthusiasm or audacity.

* * * *
Only in timeless awareness is there anything resembling free will,
And even then the patterned meme filters the dreamtime theater.

* * * *
What is mating between male and female but two half-strands of genomic material,
Evolved from the same double-double-toil-and-trouble puddle of life’s origin,
Coming together into a new universe of sensory-inspired imagination.

* * * *
You are That I Am
Which is born again and again anew
In each and every eternally kaleidoscoping immortal moment.

* * * *
How can the mind that ever longs for certainty,
Ever concede to that which can never be known?

* * * *
The only thing anyone can be sure of, is that no one can be sure of anything.
Even death and taxes are rather dubious in the fathoming of the unfathomable.

* * * *
How everything can be so different, and yet so much the same all the while,
Is the ever-present irony and paradox of this indivisible quantum mystery,
To which all fated to discern must in timeless awareness mindlessly fathom.

* * * *
You peruse these many thoughts,
But how you translate them
Is entirely based on the frame of reference
Through which your time-bound mortal dream timelessly filters.

* * * *
Who Siddhartha or Mohammed or Lao Tzu or Shankara or Moses or Jesus or Nietzsche,
Or any of the many, many others, might have been, does not matter even one iota.
Who are you? Ever the same question, ever the same answer, for one and all.

* * * *
It is only your attachment to the drama of mind that creates all this passion and angst,
That disrupts what otherwise shoulda-coulda-woulda been a relatively peaceful existence.

* * * *
Conditions set by any given mythos are rarely more than superficially endured
By those willing to face the consequences of standing alone against the tide,
Those willing to withstand the inexorable furies of the given groupthink.

* * * *
Everyone and everything in your entire existence, from the first breath to the last,
Be they family, friends, acquaintances, adversaries, or strangers,
Be it Star Wars Legos or a Lamborghini,
Is a footnote in your ever-expanding frame of reference.

* * * *
The fact that you are here in a particular form
Means you must act, you must function, in one way or another.
Until the body-mind is done, until it is food for worms, you will play out the given role.
The way that happens is labeled in many ways: destiny, fate, kismet, karma.
All of absolutely no importance to the witnessing awareness.

* * * *
Much of the world already well knows many times over,
That Malthus's discourses on overpopulation were accurate,
That food technologies cannot kick the can down any road forever.
It is a sign of our likely longevity that we have neither the wit nor the will
To hold back from our hardwired biological urge to procreate,
Either for our progeny's sake, or for our world's.

* * * *
Despite all groupthink to the contrary, you must work out your own eternal salvation.
Believing, hoping, praying, that some other will do it for you misses the reality.
Embracing agnostic oblivion is the true potential offered by awareness.

* * * *
To realize without doubt that you are the indivisible,
That you are not the temporal body or the universe it entails,
Is the supreme benediction, the paramount grace, existence can offer.

* * * *
Real and true peace is an unattainable ideal for the passionate mind.
Only in the stillness of eternal awareness is its true realization attained.

* * * *
Jesus was never called a Christian, Siddhartha a Buddhist, nor Lao Tzu a Taoist.
Neither were any of the many other oracles and seers and mystics and diviners.
Why should the real you ever endure the burden of any meaningless labels?

* * * *
The likely reality is that you neither agree or disagree with anyone all the time.
It is rather the tone and scale that establishes the barometer of many choices.

* * * *
Every human being has their own raison d'être,
Their own meaning, their own purpose, their own rationale.
Their own motivation, ethos, inspiration, philosophy, belief, and hope.
All are equally imagined, so there is no point in judging.
Be and allow, as the given moment allows.

* * * *
A child does not yet comprehend its ever-expanding universe.
Its innocence is transparent, its mind unblemished, its heart untarnished,
By the innumerable agonies and ecstasies the mind-body in consciousness has in store.

* * * *
It is awareness that is the immortal aspect, not consciousness.
Consciousness is but the filament of imagination,
The means to create and play in time.
It can never be real.

* * * *
The real gold of this ephemeral dreamtime existence
Is right relationship with nature, with all life in its myriad forms.
To value that which is but glitter, that which is but greed,
Is to miss entirely the quality of existence itself.

* * * *
One Screen to rule them all.
One Screen to find them,
One Screen to bring them all
And in the absurdity bind them.

* * * *
Quantum is the multi-dimensional veil,
In which the omnipresent-omniscient-omnipotent mystery,
The nothingness of origin, god by any name, the source its Self, witnesses all.

* * * *
To detach completely from everything, from all clung to by body and mind,
From all things, from all concepts, from all sense of self as identity.
All desires, all fears, all passions, all me-myself-and-I,
So as to be nothing but the anonymity of pure consciousness.

* * * *
Regret means that you learned something from the consequences of an action.
Some call it conscience, a.k.a. morality, scruples, ethics, principles, integrity.

* * * *
How much easier, how much simpler it all was,
Before sexuality bloomed into its inevitable genetic spectacle,
We were likely all much better off, much happier,
When innocence was a daily dose.

* * * *
You travel through existence believing it all real and true,
Until in one fated moment of realization, who knows when, kapow!
The cadaver suddenly seems both older and younger than you once thought.
And you spend the rest of your dream watching its bones turn to dust.

* * * *
You must act in order to exist in this manifest dream.
The challenge is not allowing the day-to-day to weigh you down.
To curtail the inherent friction of temporality upon the ever-present mind.

* * * *
In consciousness, desire is an insatiable, unquenchable force,
And fear its excruciating, insufferable, irrational alter-ego.

* * * *
Existence is long no matter how short, and short no matter how long.
Will you die content with all it has been, all that you have done and seen,
Or forlorn, miserable, lonely, bitter, yearning for more, more, more?

* * * *
No, it is not all about you.
Yes, it is all about you.

* * * *
Assume the words Jesus uttered were a personal vision of the greater source.
So are the thoughts of every mystic, every seer, in every time, in every geography.
The quest for union is toll-free to any and all who open themselves to the portal within.
The words cannot help but be different, but the essence has everything in common.

* * * *
Everything thought – everything seen, felt, heard, smelt, tasted – is but projection.
A perpetually kaleidoscoping a priori reverie of remembering and forgetting.
Really nothing more than sensory perception given imaginary significance.

* * * *
All idols were once very much human,
Or concocted by one mortal mind or another.
There is no deity separate from what you really are.

* * * *
Human history is the synergy of the tribal mind evolved in the jungles of long ago.
The mind bent towards one groupthink or another, be it family or community or nation state.
Sometimes the connection is social; other times economic or religious or bloodline.
Whatever the case, every ripple in this time-bound human paradigm
Is linked to the unalterable genetic coding within all.

* * * *
What is consciousness but wave after wave bound to attributes.
Awareness is the nothingness, the unknowable unknown of eternity,
Prior to all dimensions, all imaginary dreams of space and time.

* * * *
Youth, where does it go?
Ask the fading rose.

* * * *
Birth is a moment like this, death is a moment like this,
And the eternal life between is filled with moments like this.

* * * *
In the philosophical-mystical realm, there is no authority
But what any given other discerns in the truth of the words.

* * * *
A greater aloneness each and every day
As family and friends and acquaintances and adversaries,
Finish their races, and you not far behind.

* * * *
Humankind is not the be-all-end-all of this manifest mystery theater.
We have certainly played out a remarkable epoch in our trifling swath of space-time,
One likely not replicated anywhere else across the starry-starry cosmos,
But our egocentric, ethnocentric, geocentric hullabaloo,
From whatever onset to whatever finale,
Has never really been more
Than vanity-vanity-all-is-vanity on steroids.
Really little more than a twitch in the electromagnetic spectrum.

* * * *
True religion requires no dogma.
The true church requires no edifice.

* * * *
It is but vanity that sets will to endure so much.
Better perpetual torture than the feast of worms.

* * * *
The decline of age involves not being near as bright and clever as you once were,
And perhaps finally discerning enough to at-last-long-overdue apprehend
You were never near as bright and clever as you once believed.

* * * *
How can you ever make sense of something so absurdly wacko,
That rationality gave up and is drinking alone in some forsaken bar.

* * * *
Imagine you suddenly came into consciousness in an adult body without any prior experience.
No narration, no knowledge, no conditioning, no language, no attachment, no desire, no fear,
No family, no friends, no enemies, no sense of identity, completely alone, an absolute abyss.
Just pure awareness, observing the sensory feed without it making any sense, whatsoever.
A stranger in a strange land, wandering the ephemeral garden orb, as free as free can be.

* * * *
You are but a momentary portal to that which is unknowable.
An ephemeral window between what is and what is not,
In which the eternal witness has the opportunity
To observe its Self through a worldly dream.

* * * *
You are Quantum: creator-preserver-destroyer of universes beyond counting.
All across this world, in every epoch, you have sung many songs
And left behind many writings, many creations.
You are all that has ever been, you are all that will ever be.
And in your wake, every possible ripple, every imaginable consequence.
All creation emanates within and without the indifference of your timeless awareness.

* * * *
What prosperity is there in preservation?
Destruction and mayhem fatten the Beast.

* * * *
All the pain, all the pleasure, all the agony, all the ecstasy, you have ever experienced,
Have been profound teachings when seen from the vista panorama of pure awareness.

* * * *
The unknowable unknown,
The never-born-never-die quantum reality,
Is immeasurably, indivisibly, timelessly, absolutely anonymous.

* * * *
What if the entire human spectacle, the entire world, the entire universe, the entire creation.
Is merely a means, a scheme, a ruse, a gambit, a ploy, a plan, a tactic, a stratagem,
For the ultimate awareness, the ultimate intelligence, to discern its Self.
What if the definitive speculation is all about you sitting there,
Quietly reading these words, and realizing it true,
And you Soul witness of your version.

* * * *
Why keep investing in anything that can never possibly bear fruit,
Anything doomed to a pattern of self-absorption,
And all the delusions born of it.

* * * *
Consciousness requires attributes to play out its spew of imaginary notions.
Without forms, without concepts, it is caught in the abyss of awareness.

* * * *
What is the main reasons for the study of history,
But fathoming how our kind reached this point in dreamtime.
We do not have to keep repeating our patterns, continuing our collusions,
But the possibility of any meaningful change is right up in there with the flying pigs.

* * * *
In the play of space-time, why would, why should, how could,
Anyone ever live their life according to some translation
Other than the one their sensory dream imagines.

* * * *
If you examine everything through a Darwinian filter,
What makes humankind so potent is that in our evolutionary stampede,
Consciousness has magnified the underlying animal instincts to such a beyond-all-pales degree
That we are well past changing course or slamming on the brakes in any meaningful way.
Ergo, we are exponentially accelerating pedal-to-the-metal in every imaginable venue,
And only a few inches from a very solid, a very certain wall built by natural law.
Yet another Petri dish experiment confabulated by an indifferent universe.

* * * *
Memory is a dead thing thought living,
A swirl of energy given meaning, a notion given relevance.
Imagination, nothing more, nothing less.

* * * *
Awareness is a solitary quality of mind, a state of timelessness, of eternal life.
And if you are to awaken to it, you must awaken alone,
For no one can do it for you.

* * * *
Death will arrive in a moment very much like this one,
With consciousness coming to an end, and eternity steadfastly carrying on,
Without the you as you have come to know it in the identification with the mind-body dreamtime.
The one and only real you, that you always are, have always been, will ever be.

* * * *
aphorism |ˈafəˌrizəm|
noun

a pithy observation that contains a general truth,
such as, “if it ain't broke, don't fix it.”

a concise statement of a scientific principle,
typically by an ancient classical author.

Origin: early 16th cent.:
from French aphorisme or late Latin aphorismus,
from Greek aphorismos ‘definition,’ from aphorizein ‘define.’

Thesaurus: she was a fount of Orwellian aphorisms:
saying, maxim, axiom, adage, epigram, dictum,
gnome, proverb, saw, tag; rare apophthegm.

* * * *
In this our pride-filled world, there are always those
Who are considered smarter, faster, stronger, lovelier, kinder.
There are always those thought stupider, slower, weaker, uglier, meaner.
We are all wandering somewhere in the statistical dynamic,
Somewhere in the bell curve of our kind.

* * * *
The lazy mind is rarely a receptacle of doubt,
Or certainly of not more than the shallow sort.

* * * *
One of the many curious things in the human drama
Is that half-baked solutions to problems in the ever-here-now,
Always seem to evolve into fully-baked problems
In a continuous then after then.

* * * *
What is the paradigm of human consciousness
But a perpetual, whirling dance of the seven emotions:
Hate … adoration … joy … anxiety … anger … grief … fear …
And occasionally the unwritten eighth: contentment.

* * * *
Any and all idolatry is but the imaginary confabulation of the conceptual mind.
It was not any deity who created us in its image, but we, he-or-she-or-it, in ours.
Give this moment, this instant, no thought, and awareness is the unalterable alter,
The matrix, the hologram, in which you very much alone, in every twinkling, reside.

* * * *
What is an accident but a mutation of sorts,
A new tack from what would otherwise have been.
Embrace it or not, it is a fact in any existence.

* * * *
Through a variety of Darwinian happenchances, humankind evolved
Such that its imagination created the fictional collusion of time.
To accomplish this revolutionary leap from Eden's instinctive rhythm,
Every manner of delusion was incorporated to cultivate and expand its viability,
The sense of identity being the first and foremost thread in its intricate, illusory weaving.

* * * *
It is a curious thing, the dance between male and female,
That men spend the relationship trying to save women, try to make them happy,
And women spend it trying to change men, try to domesticate them,
None of which the genetic coding will likely ever allow.

* * * *
What is any historical notion, whether individual, or tribal to whatever scale,
But consciousness playing out its perpetual vanity-vanity-all-is-vanity cadence.

* * * *
When you unloose them traces after a lifetime of work,
The challenge is recombobulating the scars beneath.

* * * *
Human consciousness is but one lineage,
Of the of the natural-selection quantum mystery of evolution.
The synergy of awareness, brain, brawn, sensory nerve endings, opposable thumbs, larynx,
Two arms, two legs, lung capacity, group dynamics, sexuality, et cetera.
Witness that you are, have ever been, will ever be,
It is all about you, and not all about you all the while.

* * * *
Hearts and minds, boys and girls, hearts and minds,
You do not often or easily win them over with a bludgeon.

* * * *
Try to forget the little self, the fictitious identity, at least once and awhile.
Expand into the indivisible universe, the timeless totality, within and without.
Be the awareness, the big Self, that you truly are, have ever been, and will ever be.

* * * *
To fathom all you are, to fathom all you are not,
To discern the ultimate reality of this enigmatic eternal awareness,
You must examine the given life, the given mind, the given body, both within and without,
Catching and releasing any and every form, any and every thought,
Until only you in still awareness remain.

* * * *
Each and every moment, inhaled and exhaled, examined and released.
The eternal life is not for those who cling to the imaginary concoctions of mind.
The vague memories of all that is ever come and gone, is not real living.
It is the stillness of awareness that is the fountain of existence.

* * * *
The English language is the embrace-all whore of Babbleon.
She will open her legs to any word, any concept, any metaphor, any simile, any idiom,
And will make it her own as willingly as any moneychanger.

* * * *
Never assume anything figurative, metaphorical, symbolic,
Allegorical, rhetorical, abstract, intangible, or otherwise otherorical,
Has any foothold or domain whatsoever in the ultimate reality.

* * * *
In the human paradigm, any successful competition between groups
Requires that individuals embrace the group objective,
And do whatever it takes to win the game.
What is any success, any triumph, any victory,
But the wills of individuals spun into group synergies,
And the victors getting dibs on the songs of conquest and glory.

* * * *
What is real, what is true, what is you, is never knowable
In anything but the most timeless sense awareness allows.

* * * *
Is consciousness higher or lower in this monkey-mind theater,
Or more likely a long and winding continuum of endless complexity:
More or less intelligent, more or less attentive, more or less knowledgeable,
More or less perceptive, more or less creative– all about different things.
How amazing anything exists at all, much less evolved to such a degree
As to expand this mystery to an even greater scale of unfathomable.

* * * *
negation |nəˈɡāSH(ə)n|
noun

1.  the contradiction or denial of something:
there should be confirmation – or negation – of the findings.

Grammar denial of the truth of a clause or sentence,
typically involving the use of a negative word
(e.g., not, no, never) or a word or affix
with negative force (e.g., nothing, non-).

Logic a proposition whose assertion
specifically denies the truth of another proposition:
the negation of A is, briefly, “not A.”

Mathematics inversion:
these formulae and their negations.

2.  the absence or opposite of something actual or positive:
evil is not merely the negation of goodness.

* * * *
What are you but a temporal assumption, a mind made known,
The unconditional playing out a self-actuating algorithm,
That the programmed you, constrained by dreamtime, calls self.
The me-and-myself-and-I to which the human collusion vainly subscribes.

* * * *
Eventually the human drama’s candle will go out, and all we have done
Will perchance be discovered and studied by some intelligent alien species
That has somehow survived their own rise to the heights of cooperative effort,
And become technologically proficient enough to travel across
The vast expanses of an all but infinite universe.
Think about it very astutely, how likely is it, seriously?
And why on earth would it, could it, should it, matter in any way?

* * * *
What forges any hell, any purgatory, any heaven, but relationship with others.
Other imaginary selves with whom your imaginary self synergizes in so many ways.
We are all the same monkey-mind, destined to the agonies and ecstasies of every passion.
Only in the relativity of an enduring detachment is there any possibility of a moderate course.

* * * *
Sisyphus need only let the rock roll back down the hill.
Atlas need only shrug his shoulders and set the world down.
So many things to which we cling for so many imaginary notions.

* * * *
Any given existence is born into a time in which it will play out
Whatever part is dictated by the reverie swirling hither-thither.

* * * *
The chatter and imagery of dreams is no different than that of the awake state.
Consciousness and sub-consciousness, and other imaginary conceptions,
Are not at all as distinct as the delineators would have you believe.

* * * *
No matter where we meander, no matter where we rest our weary heads,
Getting through any given instant still boils down to a mindful dollop of detachment.
Not taking it all so seriously, not taking ourselves so seriously, is the first and last challenge.
Conscious of it or not, in one way or another, we are all playing out the Atlas of our conditioning,
And learning to set down our imaginary universe may not be as hard as we choose to believe.

* * * *
Does everything you believe you possess in reality possess you?
Are commitments to anything in reality anything more
Than twists and turns of irony and paradox?

* * * *
History is but smatterings of stories passed down from generation to generation.
Much of it egocentric-ethnocentric-geocentric braidings of imaginary notion,
To which the blameless future often incoherently, irrationally, binds itself.

* * * *
Who-what-where-when-why-how are you?
Who-what-where-when-why-how are you not?

* * * *
You learn a lot about any individual, a lot about any group ,
When you give them a little power, a little fame, a little fortune.
Sometimes you learn a lot more than you might have wanted to know.

* * * *
How can any gaze out into the immeasurable universe
And truly believe some vain, wrathful deity
Born of their feeble imagination
Did all that and more?
Pfffft.

* * * *
From the immeasurable mystery of eternal nothingness,
The quantum churning of creation and preservation and destruction,
An ever-emanating juggernaut beyond all reckoning,
The eternal nothingness all the while.

* * * *
Many if not most need some imaginary deity on the outside,
Because they fathom themselves so measurable on the inside.

* * * *
What identify with anything in this manifest dreamtime?
All the mind-body-universe concepts, you are none of them.
Allow the sovereignty of the inherent aloneness reign supreme.

* * * *
What is life, what is death,
But one-moment-you-are-here-the-next-you-are-not,
And will you discern the difference or not,
Ever the ultimate question.

* * * *
What if no one but you really exists?
What if it is all noting more than imagination
Playing out a sensory dream in the void of awareness?

* * * *
No one can rouse those who sleepwalk undoubting through their given reverie.
Awakening is a banquet to which all are invited, but for which few are earnestly ravenous.
The kaleidoscoping dreamtime of light and sound hypnotizes and seduces most.
You alone must strive to awaken in whatever way your mind allows.

* * * *
What is any other but what you,
In the dream of mind, choose to push, choose to carry.
Let the boulder go, Sisyphus, let it go.
Shrug, Atlas, shrug.

* * * *
Once you cease identifying with the mind-body
And all its imaginary-illusory-sensory-temporal creations,
What to do with whatever dreamtime that remains is a daily wander.

* * * *
The clock is just a machine,
The calendar just numbers on paper.
Only you care what time it is.

* * * *
What is male, what is female, but the ways and means
By which the three-dimensional dreamtime of awareness plays on,
But ultimately ever the same essence, ever the same androgynous indivisibility.

* * * *
In the shades of possibility between mind and heart,
There are many ways to give your self over to your Self.

* * * *
Every bell curve goes up, every bell curve comes down.
The promise of the ever-kaleidoscoping zero-sum game.

* * * *
Humankind, the world, the universe, and all its many creations, is doomed to destruction,
Because there is nothing that can be saved or preserved in this quantum hologram.
Attachment to attributes, attachment to illusion, binds you to such concerns.

* * * *
Regarding your fate, you do not know what it is,
But you do have one, every manifest creation does,
In a quantum indivisible sort of way, of course.

* * * *
No need to define your Self by the limitations of the mind-body
And its ceaseless round-and-round-rat-wheel-in-a-cage thinking.

* * * *
When you move on from anywhere,
Best to get in the habit of glancing back
To spot what you might be leaving behind.
Guaranteed, it will save a lot of bother.

* * * *
In the ever-evolving, ever-swirling, ever-unfolding,
Ever-streaming, ever-emanating web of creation and destruction,
What difference between any life form large or small, strong or weak, fast or slow?
Whatever the niche. whatever the taxonomy, whatever the kingdom.
Nothing.

* * * *
Every humanoid since the species evolved in the jungles of long ago,
Each with its own exclusive twist of a monkey-mind,
Plays out a completely different aspect of the same swirling consciousness,
Entirely based on the draw in the genetic lottery, and the winds of time into which the seed is cast.
We are all witnesses to completely unique quantum universes born of imagination.

* * * *
Your true religion is how you choose to live each and every moment.
Whether you create heaven or hell, are angel or demon,
Is played out in every act, in every deed,
And though none can ever see their part unequivocally,
Only you even begin to fathom the whole truth of your imaginary realm.

* * * *
Always carry layers.
Fine to hope for the best, but prepare for the worst.
No one ever knows which way the wind will blow, for how long, or how hot or cold.
We are temperate beasts, and do not easily transcend the whims of nature.

* * * *
How can this unfathomable mystery not be boggling prior to and beyond all belief?
What need for faith? What need for religion? What need for philosophy?
What need for anything but to meld into the timeless nature,
The eternal awareness pervading all creation.
What need to more than realize the indelible enigma of it,
And to freely blossom into the inexplicable reality that you are it, it is you.

* * * *
To be but timeless awareness,
To be but the source prior to all patterning,
Is a quest all who doubt must undertake very much alone.

* * * *
Despite all the encumbrances about your body and in your mind,
You have never really possessed anything or anyone, and never really will.
You are but a temporal squatter in an erstwhile dream born of quantum playing time.

* * * *
The mind that craves more, more, and still more.
Has everything but eternal life, sometimes called heaven.
Something to do with camels and eyes of needles.

* * * *
The personal mind, the quantum mind, the cosmic mind, the eternal mind, the no-mind,
Are all the same ephemeral awareness, the same witness, the same youness,
Really nothing more than alternating frames of consciousness,
Filtering as the whimsical moment inclines.

* * * *
Unless it personally affects you, especially in some harmful, malicious way,
Why would it ever matter how another lives out their existence?
No one will ever play it the same as anyone else.
Be and allow is the highest law.

* * * *
The Seven Deadly Sins: pride, envy, gluttony, lust, wrath, greed, sloth,
Are not easily waylaid, not easily curbed, not easily moderated,
Once even partially unleashed in any given mind-body.
The narcissistic-hedonistic bent of humankind
Is at the root of everything created since our advent.

* * * *
Human beings tend to believe they are the most special concoctions this garden has ever created,
But, despite their self-congratulating, narcissistic claims of innate superiority, they are not.
Might may make right, but it is only the absurdly surreal arrogance of consciousness
That embraces the delusion that some are, in the ultimate reality, more equal than others.

* * * *
History being what it is, the vanities being what they are,
You may as well play it out as anonymously as possible.

* * * *
Whether or not there is consciousness
Anything like it has been manifested in our own garden world,
Whether or not this is a one-of-a-kind, once-upon-a-time, unique moment in all Creation,
Is a question to which mu will ever be the one-and-only answer,
For those who even bother to ask.

* * * *
If you want respect, you give respect.
Otherwise, you may get a lesson,
Perhaps several, if not many.

* * * *
The ever-changing faces and names, are they ever really all that different?
Consciousness weaving its way down neurological trails
Born of the same monkey-mind.

* * * *
Every once and awhile, try completely forgetting who you think you are,
What you think you know, all the things you think you own,
And all the desires that breed all the fears.
Be here now, be all you really are, all you really are not.

* * * *
How can anything be saved when each and every moment
Is completely and unutterably spent as soon as it happens.

* * * *
How many different perceptions, different judgments,
The many others have allotted you in their dreamtime passing.
From archangel to fiend, you are assigned every ecstasy, every agony,
That the rungs of hell and purgatory and paradise might in imagination offer.
Raised on high or condemned, the you, you truly are, is ever immaculate, ever absolute.

* * * *
Who does not begin a journey assuming they will arrive?
Who does not go to sleep assuming they will awaken?
Who does not assume, not believe, not trust, not hope,
Anything will happen just as imagination would have it.
Alas that mortal faire does not subscribe to wishful notion.

* * * *
The road less traveled is less a road than a solitary, interminable, cross-country odyssey,
Through an uncharted, untamed, no-direction-known wilderness
Complete with every distraction imaginable.

* * * *
Natural laws supersede any and all man-made concoctions.
Even the gods cannot waylay the order of quantum chaos.

* * * *
Humankind has been at each other’s throats
Since its puddle origin, long before it ever exited the jungles,
For every imaginable reason ever concocted.

* * * *
What is this magical-mystery dreamtime
But a teensy-weensy sliver of imaginary perception
Sandwiched between the pre-historic and post-historic unknown.

* * * *
Tick, tick, tick … the remorseless clock … tick, tick, tick … counting down …
Tick, tick, tick … the inescapable… tick, tick, tick … sooner, ever sooner …
Tick, tick, tick … just around … tick, tick, tick … one bend or another …

* * * *
You are the result of a long genomic strain
That has roots weaving back to the puddle of origin.
Do not feel the need to be overly bound by it.

* * * *
As it stands in its evolutionary tack, the monkey-mind
Is not even remotely capable of fashioning a casteless culture.
We are as bound by our Darwinian differences as any other creature
That has ever risen into being on this inexplicable garden world.

* * * *
Any government has always been and will ever be,
Of the people, by the people, for the people,
But which of … and which by … and which for …
Are ever the shades of gray between freedom and tyranny.

* * * *
The ultimate you is in every moment in every dimension
Creating and preserving and destroying, incarnating and morphing,
Into any and every form that this inexplicable quantum mystery deigns to devise.
There is no beginning, there is no end, there is only the unknowable.

* * * *
Sometimes you have to take a little pain, and sometimes a lot.
That’s what nerve-endings and beginnings do.
‘Tis mammalian fare.

* * * *
You are this eternal nowness, and this eternal nowness is you.
This is the one and only nowness awareness ever is, has ever been, will ever be.
In some soon-to-be mind-body space-time, you will be “doing” something else in the same nowness.
And still later, it will be the same awareness “doing” something else in the same nowness.
The timeless mind prior to the kaleidoscoping dreamtime is ever the same.
Eternal life is being mindful in an empty-mind sort of way.

* * * *
Nature is the timeless filament of all creation,
The source code by which all things come to pass,
The brush used by the quantum unknown
To paint itself the dream of time.

* * * *
What is the first and foremost vanity but you believing your identity real,
But you being attached to your body, your mind, your world,
None of which has ever really been yours at all.

* * * *
In this spinning god-eat-god Darwinian garden world,
It is not always the fastest or strongest who survive,
But the most adaptable to the ever-changing now.

* * * *
No place to go, nothing to become, yet you,
Ever the same, ever here now, wander this way or that,
For he body cannot be completely still, nor the mind completely silent.

* * * *
Realize it or not, you are in reality born again and again and again, each and every moment.
It is only in the collusion of imagination, the collusion of so-called humankind,
That you believe, that you accept, the seeming continuity real.

* * * *
Can you imagine a buzzard pulling at your entrails?
A worm peering out your left eye socket?
Something else crawly, drifting up your right nostril?
Your bones bleaching into dust beneath a blazing summer sun?
In one way or another, that is your fate etched in the vapors of dreamtime.

* * * *
Perhaps the only true act of free will
Is whether or not you give yourself over
To the choicelessness of awareness.

* * * *
We are all witness, ever alone, ever absolute, in our own unique version of a universe.
We are all right, we are all wrong, each and every one, each and every eternal moment.

* * * *
How pointless all opinion, all reflection, all judgment,
But still the mind born of space and time
Churns on and on and on.

* * * *
We all over time slip into our own level, our own scale, our own rut, of intrigue,
And by that arbitrary paradigm generally gauge the world, judge the world.
Very challenging, perhaps impossible, to wander in non-judgmental mode.

* * * *
Silly old people, with all your aches and pains and discontented thinking,
Moaning and groaning each and every day the same whiney, scratchy recording,
To whoever bothers to listen, most likely others of the same unhappy bent.

* * * *
Painting oneself royal in any of the many fashions
Is nothing more than another shade of illusory delusion,
Played out by pretenders who really believe their shit superior.
Dress up any given pig however you will, it will always be
Just another hog scampering down the same chute.

* * * *
In every age, there are those rare few in any and every imaginable context,
Who awaken to the timeless awareness within all things great and small.
Some fashion what will become dogma; others wander serenely alone.
The mystery in which all equally reside gives its Self freely to any and all.

* * * *
Nothing is divine in the deific-celestial-heavenly sense, really.
Just a no-brag-just-fact-every-moment actuality from the get-go.

* * * *
You are absolute master of your mortal fate,
King of your kingdom, wielder of your club,
Until the shadow of another’s looms larger.

* * * *
One day or night in some long ago, intentionally or not,
Your mother and father merged their seedlines, and voilà, you.
The only question is, do you play out this dream according to their meme,
The established meme of some other groupthink, or your own?

* * * *
Point of reference, frame of reference, box of reference, matrix of reference, hologram of reference,
From small to large, each and every mind fabricates a unique rendering of a universe,
All ultimately nothing more than the endless spinnings of imagination.

* * * *
Whether quantum space-time is the function of the sensory-mind,
Or the sensory-mind the function of quantum space-time,
Or both are indivisible partners in awareness,
The resulting interweaving, the resulting dreamtime,
Is nothing more than a very real-seeming, figment of imagination,
Consciousness hypnotizing its Self into believing its timeless concoction real,
An illusory theater playing out every imaginable manifestation in every imaginable way.

* * * *
Across the planet throughout all time, every human being, every life form,
Playing its little quantum-chemical-biological-cultural patterning real,
To whatever degree awareness through consciousness perceives.

* * * *
The same eternal source in all timelessly witnesses all.
It is the omnipresent-omnipotent-omniscient undying force.
Ageless, changeless, perpetual, unending, interminable, transient,
Immeasurable, inestimable, everlasting, boundless, infinite, immortal.

* * * *
Human history is chock-full at both ends of the bell curve
Of the few both making it up and fucking it up
For the many in the vast between.

* * * *
Call it what you will: pattern, meme, array, form, display, shape,
Design, prototype, plan, model, outline, draft, scheme, blueprint;
It is what you imagine, it is what you pretend, not what you are.

* * * *
Violence, and our kind’s unfailing willingness to use it,
Is written and unwritten in histories across all times and geographies,
And is daily splayed in every media that technology allows.

* * * *
You cannot help the family you get, or the geography in which you land,
But the people you meet, and the life you wander, that’s the story worth telling.

* * * *
What were cave walls, what were clay tablets, what was papyrus,
What was Gutenberg’s printing press, what is the world wide web,
But progressing eruptions in humankind’s big bang of consciousness.
Whether or not there is anything like it out there in the vastness,
Is a question we will more than likely never find answer.

* * * *
Mother Gaia, despite all humankind has done, and will yet do to it, will endure.
It will be a mutation of its Darwinian majesty, scarred and limping, but it will carry on,
Until its star, in its death throes, engulfs whatever is left, and the universe dances on, oblivious.

* * * *
It is in the winds of complete and attentive breathing,
That you will be as alive as the quantum dreamtime allows.

* * * *
Deny your fate, your fortune, your destiny, your kismet, your karma,
As confidently, as boldly, as insolently, as defiantly, as vainly, as you will,
It is emanating, materializing, unfolding, happening, each and every moment.

* * * *
For all we know, Jesus has returned times beyond counting,
But his followers are always so busy following him,
That they can no longer see or hear him.

* * * *
What is eternal life but the ephemeral awareness you truly are,
Paying as much attention as possible to the one-moment-at-a-time universe,
To which the given sensory mind-body dreamtime of temporal consciousness subscribes.

* * * *
Too hot, too cold; too hard, too soft; too this, too that.
Always something for the monkey-mind to whine about.

* * * *
Everything is distraction from reality.
Only the ephemeral is real.
In awareness, be.

* * * *
Whether or not a free mind, an unconditional mind, is even possible,
Is an inquiry you as witness must explore and discern for your Self.

* * * *
What is the cosmos but a massive, indivisible quantum matrix.
Matter patterned into every imaginable organic and inorganic permutation.
Continuously changing, altering, shifting, fluctuating, mingling, consuming, emanating, evolving.
A mechanism so beyond-all-bounds incredible as to be forever boggling.
And however you may or may not partake the truth of it,
You are it, and it is you, there is no other.

* * * *
What is real meditation
But the turning off of time-bound imagination
For a brief wander in eternity.

* * * *
The momentary awareness perceives through the senses
What the mind born of the quantum essence has engineered.
Always something to see, to hear, to touch, to taste, to smell,
Yet ever the eternal nothingness in each and every while.

* * * *
Everything spun of consciousness is nothing more than the wind of imagination.
And there is no need to kowtow to any of its countless fabrications.
Despite what the middlemen would have you believe,
There is no deity that does not include you in its conception,
And bowing and scraping to any idol is but the absurdity of vanity.

* * * *
The closest thing to free will, to self-determination, to freedom of choice,
In this infinitely choiceless universe fashioned of every imaginable patterning,
Is the timeless awareness of the quantum essence from which all things stream forth.

* * * *
The time of physical health, really your only wealth, is daily diminishing,
Sand steadily streaming through the timeless hourglass,
From first to last, every grain the same.

* * * *
Is organized religion really anything more
Than a vain rationale to be absurdly delusional
To whatever nth degree consciousness allows.

* * * *
For humankind to change course in any effective, meaningful way,
Would require a paradigm shift well beyond its genomic patterning.

* * * *
So many things you said, so many things you did not say.
So many things you did, so many things you did not do.
So many ecstasies, so many agonies, in this dream of time.

* * * *
The sensory blend
Every moment weaving a universe in that little old head of yours,
How amazing is that?

* * * *
What is the point, what is the reality, of any story, any chronicle, any history,
Once all trace, all recollection, of it has been lost in the mists of eternity.
Ask the forest tree, fallen and decaying, unwitnessed and unheard.

* * * *
Observe the mind and its many thoughts,
What are they but a muddle of conditioned patterning,
Founded upon whatever perceptions, whatever frame of reference,
Imagination has arbitrarily formulated in the winds
Of the given nature-nurture dreamtime.

* * * *
The world is a relatively large Petri dish, the edges of which are being encroached upon daily.
It is anybody’s guess how long it will be before we and our insatiable excesses slam into the wall.

* * * *
Life is harsh; the jungle dark and menacing.
None can long help those who will not help themselves.
All must learn to crawl, to stand, to walk, to run, very much alone.

* * * *
What is identity but the psychological adaptation to the given nature-nurture circumstance.
The personality you project, the character you portray, is but an imaginary fabrication,
Sculpted by the dreamtime your spirit has from conception every moment endured.

* * * *
What glory is there in a tie,
A draw, a stalemate, an impasse, a deadlock,
A standoff, a logjam, a standstill, a dead heat, a photo finish?

* * * *
The egocentric nature of human consciousness
Has always believed itself and all its fabrications
Far more important that they will ever, can ever be.

* * * *
So much make-work, so much make-play, so much make-whatever,
In this our busy-busy, vanity-vanity, absurdity-absurdity paradigm.

* * * *
Awareness, that which is prior to consciousness,
That which is prior even to the quantum indivisibility,
Is the mysterious potential from whence all things manifest,
The matchless singularity, prior to one, much less two.

* * * *
From pleasure palace to torture chamber, in solitary confinement all the while,
The mind-body’s neural highways play out its dream in ways beyond counting.

* * * *
If you operate under the premise that you are ultimately screwed,
Why not play it out in whatever way or ways call out to you.
Family, friends, axquandances, might take notice,
But rest assured that history will not long remember.

* * * *
What do you think all this is founded on, if not the indivisible primal source,
The quantum matrix of timeless origin, the one-and-only oneness given over to space-time,
Creator and creation in the one-in-all-and-all-in-one grand singularity,
The awareness in which all dreamtimes spring.

* * * *
Religions across the world, across time,
Have all too often been subsidized tools of statecraft
To manipulate the masses into complying with its rhyme and reason.
Far more pragmatic, more Machiavellian, more Orwellian,
Than pious sheeples might ever care to surmise.

* * * *
When scanning any ground or any horizon,
Be sure to look to the right, to the left, above and below,
And also through the many layers before, and the many pales beyond.
Any predator absorbed in its own hunt can easily become unwary prey in another’s.

* * * *
Stepping on the toes of political correctness is always a chuckle.
Imagine if you said or did everything that came to mind.
It would be a padded cell or the guillotine for sure.

* * * *
The world is full of true believers entangled in one conviction or another.
What it is matters less than whether or not it can be colored black or white.

* * * *
To all belief systems that imagine god separate,
Why would you ever cater to such limited concept?
To a notion that does not include you one in the same?

* * * *
More than 99 percent of all species, amounting to over five billion,
That ever existed in Earth’s 4.54 billion years, are estimated to be extinct.
The history of humankind’s ascent is like the history of extinction.
The far greater percentage is long undone, long forgotten,
And for all practical purposes, never happened.

* * * *
Memory of any thing is never the thing itself.
Memory is the architect of time.
Reality is timeless.

* * * *
Yet another generation of youth mindlessly swept up
In the clawing avarice and blinding confines of time.

* * * *
Familiarity, the breeding ground of contempt and aversion.
Much easier to admire and esteem what you do not know.

* * * *
The limits of perception are obvious,
The doors of perception, immeasurable.

* * * *
Yet another millennial whose mother never told him life is not fair,
Another millennial who got too many participant trophies,
Another millennial who got too many inflated grades,
And really-truly believes they mean something.

* * * *
What is history but a perpetual game, to which chess and go and dominos are but artless analogies.
It is an ever-streaming, ever-emanating, ever-graceful, temporal play of consciousness.
Imagination given context in the hologram-matrix of quantum space-time.

* * * *
The other cannot fill the void.
Nothing can.

* * * *
In the ever-swirling flow of human migration,
No individual, no culture, has ever stood long in total isolation.
All must inescapably, like it or not, morph into greater and greater self-reflections.
All must give way to the ever-expanding world, the ever-expanding cosmos,
In which the human paradigm, as self-congratulatory as it wont to be,
Is but an assumption, a contrivance, on a whirling speck of dust.

* * * *
Awareness cannot be possessed.
It is neither yours nor mine nor ours.
We are it and it is us, every moment unreal.

* * * *
The mind ever seeks the security, the certainty, the consistency, that cannot be.
Constant change is the ultimate overriding attribute of this manifest quantum theater,
And it is only the no-mind steadfast in awareness that can wander through it,
Calm, collected, composed, untroubled, unconcerned, harmonious.

* * * *
Conscious breathing, the awareness of every inhale, every exhale,
Is as present as present can be in the matrix hologram born of mind.

* * * *
Everything you have done in your so-called existence
Was set in motion the instant the nothingness
Burst into the creative process.

* * * *
No matter the speculation, no matter the assertion, it always ends up the same inexplicable mystery.
So what is the point of endlessly arguing, much less slaying others who will never see it the same.
Discern the tranquility of an agnostic framelessness of mind, and make that your harbor.

* * * *
What is it we label God by countless names but all things quantum,
Including the timeless awareness you believe your own,
Peering out through the given sensory array.
Duality is illusion; all is singularity.
Thou art That I Am.

* * * *
Die hungry or full, forlorn or content, foolish or wise,
It is discerning doubt that fashions the quality of mind.

* * * *
What is known of the immeasurable reaches where the unknown reigns,
But the shimmering attributes that imagination adjudges real and true.

* * * *
Any given mind succumbs to the perjury of self-deception
As often as needed, to whatever degree delusion requires.

* * * *
Of reverence and irreverence, of wonder, veneration, devotion, adulation, or any antithesis,
What more can be said than it really does not matter whether the glass half empty or half full.

* * * *
The cynic, the skeptic, the doubter – all seekers of truth,
Neither accepting or rejecting without judicious examination.
Scraping away what is false, using negation to discern what is true.

* * * *
You are as free as the mind is empty,
As free as the mind is naught but pure awareness,
As free as consciousness that has set aside any and all concern
For its Pandora’s Box hodgepodge of endless bothers.

* * * *
We are all just temporal recordings of consciousness,
Each and every one of us playing out one little meme or another.
Yet at the essential level, each and every one of us is the same quantum source,
Each and every one of us the same unfathomable awareness.
What’s to argue about, what’s to kill for?

* * * *
And why wouldn’t so-called God be so infinite as to include you in its creative process?
How ridiculous to believe your imaginary self separate in any way, any shape, any form.

* * * *
You may believe you have broken a habit, a pattern, an addiction,
But chances are, you have only exchanged it, morphed it, repackaged it,
Into another variation, another alteration, another mutation, of the same stripe.
A bottle, a needle, a god, any obsession, in what way are they different?

* * * *
Is it space-time that passes,
Or the awareness that travels a dream of time,
Ever steadfast, ever true.

* * * *
Where is the difference?  Where is the attribute?  Where is the transformation?
Where is anything in the mystery of mysteries, that which is eternally indivisible?

* * * *
It is upon the given reader to discern any author’s meaning and intent.
The Dead Poets Society is, after all, a catacomb of phantoms.
It is the living who must reap the gifts tendered.

* * * *
Is it day? Is it night? Is it any time?
Open thine inner eye, thine eye of awareness,
And discern what is real, what is true.

* * * *
How many star-filled universes may have come and gone before the so-called Big Bang
Or Creation or Genesis or Turtles-All-The-Way-Down-All-The-Way-Up,
Or whatever other metaphors mind may have conjured up.
And how many will come and go after this rendering,
And how many are simultaneously happening right now,
And what was and will be before and after any or all of them,
As if there could ever be any before or after any timeless fabrication,
Before or after what may well have never really happened in the first place.
Anything and everything is on the table in the indivisibleness of all things quantum.

* * * *
For every birth, a death.
For every creation, a destruction.
Zero-sum at its finest.

* * * *
Your immortality may reflect in thought and deed in this mortal banquet,
But they are naught but vibrations in the indivisibility of the quantum reality.

* * * *
Illustrate, if you can, where you are in a mind that is still,
Where you are in the timeless quietude of pure awareness?

* * * *
What is the aging process but the mind-body daily getting more and more bothersome.
All that hedonism, all that narcissism, all that vanity-vanity, gradually turning into dust.

* * * *
What is death but the end of time, the end of space,
The return to the eternal indivisibility that all ever are.
Nothing to fear, nothing to doubt, simply the way it truly is.

* * * *
Whether mental or physical, it is only pain,
And you can endure it, as you always have.

* * * *
Babble-babble … babble-babble … babble-babble … babble-babble …
Babble-babble … babble-babble … babble-babble … babble-babble …
Babble-babble … babble-babble … babble-babble … babble-babble …
Babble-babble … babble-babble … babble-babble … babble-babble …

* * * *
Were the so-called seers and mystics and prophets in ancient times and places, early scientists?
Or merely charlatans taking advantage of fearful, gullible flocks for their own ends?
Any answers are but assertions of one unverifiable speculation or another,
But of the muddled, tangled histories played out since, we can be much more sure.

* * * *
Awareness sets in motion the pretense of existence.
The brain is but a fertile recording and processing apparatus,
That the senses permeate with an ever-present universe,
In which the mind plays out its imaginary theater.

* * * *
Using only skillful opposable thumbs
And minds inspired by sumptuous programming,
Great warriors kill countless dragons and build vast empires
Every night in the safety of their bedrooms.

* * * *
You could conceivably play anything out any way you please,
But the given genetic patterning, the given cultural conditioning, the given nature-nurture,
Have shaped your thoughts and actions to such a predictable degree
That any assertion of free will is absurd.

* * * *
If you are the ever-present awareness every given moment offers,
What need for identity, or any other contrivance of consciousness.

* * * *
Great strategies come and go,
But tactics, tactics are where boots hit ground,
Fingers pull triggers, and blood flows.

* * * *
Entitlement has a way of sneaking up on just about everyone under any given sun,
The gift of life, painful thing that it can many daze be, being at the top of every list.

* * * *
Where can “you” ever be but right here, right now,
In whatever sphere, whatever bubble of awareness “you”
In the inexplicable, indivisible quantum hologram-matrix reside.

* * * *
Ebb and flow,
Yield and resist,
Listen and speak,
Receive and impart,
Retreat and attack,
Maneuver and fire,
Block and strike,
Give and take,
Yin and yang.

* * * *
The wily middleman cannot afford to inquire too deeply,
Else he would forfeit everything he has so cunningly usurped.
His talent is parlaying smokescreens to blind all to the truth within.

* * * *
Your ancestors had their slice of dreamtime, you have yours,
And, if you have descendants, they will have theirs.
Do not feel the need to impose all your inanities upon them,
Past what is pragmatic for their fleeting portion of conscious design.

* * * *
What is it little old you discerns in this theater into which you have without choice been cast?
Without all the countless devices we toolmakers have devised to measure our universe,
Without all the sciences, without all the mathematics, without all the technologies,
Without all the things the monkey-mind will do to quantify to the nth degree,
What is it you for your Self alone intuit, you for your Self alone deduct,
What is it you for your Self, without any influence from any other,
Discern real and true in this immeasurable enigma beyond all pales?

* * * *
Awareness is naught but awareness.
Neither near nor far, high nor low, great nor small,
Good nor evil, true nor false, boundless nor bound, real nor unreal.
It is the what is, that ever is, yet has never been.

* * * *
You are not the first; you will not be the last.
You are the first; you are the last.
Irony and paradox rule.

* * * *
Is any organized religion anything more than a parade, a carnival, a pageant, of idolatry?
Whether it be a persona, a boulder, a figurine, a set of writings, or merely a concept,
How is it anything but groupthink absurdity garnished in self-absorption?

* * * *
You are in no way, no shape, no form, separate from the totality of this mystery.
Call it what you will – God, Brahman, Tao, Buddha, Yahweh, Jehovah, Allah, turtles ad infinitum,
All dualistic notion is founded upon believing the illusions body and mind weave,
Upon believing the ever-kaleidoscoping sensory input real.

* * * *
Let us differentiate between reality and perceptions of reality.
The former ever is, and all the latters are figments of imagination.

* * * *
Just what ‘part’ of the mind-body-spirit do you believe is immortal,
If not the indivisible awareness, that vast totality both within and without,
In which within or without are nothing more than confabulations of imagination.

* * * *
War is the insatiable beast, peace the sublime quietude.
Humans do not tend to for long fare well with either.

* * * *
To be the undying awareness is to wander without attachment to the dream of mind,
To endure, free of time, free of all the agonies and ecstasies imagination musters into notion.
Eternal existence is for the rarest of the rare, those few and far flung who render themselves whole.
One must be absolutely fearless to ascertain the immutable immortality
They are, have ever been, will ever be.

* * * *
Just too fucking annoying sometimes, the price life requires,
The unceasingly heavy toll consciousness so often metes out.

* * * *
The only objectivity resides and abides in the indiscriminant awareness.
All creation is arbitrary from whatever beginning to whatever end.

* * * *
So many worrying about yesterday and tomorrow,
That they miss what is happening right here, right now.

* * * *
The groupthink creates.
The groupthink conducts.
The groupthink influences.
The groupthink manipulates.
The groupthink persuades.
The groupthink controls.
The groupthink harvests.
The groupthink destroys.
The groupthink perseveres.

* * * *
Is it: Death be not proud? or Death, be not proud?
And what rat’s ass would the Grim Reaper give either way,
As if the terminator to existence is even aware of its conclusive role.

* * * *
Life is full of every imaginable pain, every variety of suffering.
Some are long forgotten, but some persist ever-present,
And fold into each other like subprime mortgages
Until they twist into debilitating default.
Ain’t nothing Golden Pond about growing old.

* * * *
Who is the who, who desires? Who is the who, who fears?
Who is the who, who plays out any action, plays out any passion,
But the indivisible awareness cloaked by the attachment of consciousness
To the mind-body presenting itself, pretending itself, colluding itself, real and true.

* * * *
The entire human spectacle, and all it countless histories,
Is nothing more than ever-changing, temporal, imaginary perception.
A make-it-up-as-we-go, spontaneous kind of thing, that really is not any thing at all.
A holographic dream, which all are genetically programmed, culturally conditioned, to play along.
An enigmatic quantum reverie: nothing more, nothing less, nothing but.
Very bemusing to all concerned, indeed, indeed.

* * * *
Yet another anecdote, another footnote, another notch,
In the long list of disappointments in this human debacle.

* * * *
Why do you keep getting out of bed every morning?
Because the conditioning is a strong and aromatic brew, the senses too enticing to withstand,
The theater too filled with agony and ecstasy to avert the busy mind.
To simply be is not near as entertaining.

* * * *
The you, you think is you, the me, I think is me, the s/he, s/he thinks is s/he,
Are they really a different you, a different me, or a different s/he?
Who is born, who dies? Who is reborn, who dies again?
Who abides in heaven, who abides in hell,
But the same awareness in all.

* * * *
Consciousness is the source of all disparity.
In the quantum indivisibility, there are none.

* * * *
Male or female, we are all the same monkey-mind, only the players change.
The faces, the bodies, the names, the languages, the mindsets, the memes,
All the differences are but nature-nurture variations of the same theme.
Cast any anew on an island, they would imbue it very much the same.

* * * *
All notion is nothing more than filtered imagination.
Perception may be all, but it is nothing all the while.

* * * *
It is the rare few who are called to journey outside the boxes of limited thinking,
Where the imaginary vastness of consciousness dances without consequence.
What need for wings of wax when all the suns of the universe abide within.

* * * *
What is the world, the universe, but a baggage train of notions
Slung about by imagination as if it were real and true.
As if it was more than a nebulous collection
Of pluses and minuses streaming about a neuron matrix.
Discern the awareness you are, disentangle from thought, wander unbound.

* * * *
Ponder anything however you will,
Words are but a tonic to the emptiness
Through which they echo to and fro.

* * * *
A good toke of clean, fresh, oxygenated air,
Is far more likely to steady that passionate mind
Than any neural contortion of consciousness.

* * * *
One of the many disturbing discoveries in this vanity-vanity existence
Is that you are likely not as intelligent or powerful or important
As you might have in more youthful moments once believed.

* * * *
Who are you?
What are you?
Where are you?
When are you?
Why are you?
How are you?
… Are you? …

* * * *
The mystery is the mystery is the mystery.
You are but one speck, one light of awareness – no greater, no lesser –
Of the incalculably vast universe of witnesses
To your indelible unknown.

* * * *
No point worrying about death, it is going to happen one way or another.
Whether the means is infection, cancer, blood, endocrine, mental, nervous, circulatory,
Respiratory, digestive, musculoskeletal, genitourinary, perinatal, congenital, or some external cause.
The flesh and bones to which you are so attached is fated to melt back into the indivisibility.
If is useless, and vain hope for something more, nothing but idle speculation.
So it goes, deal with it, get over it, keep moving while you can.

* * * *
No matter how small or huge it might be,
It is every moment just as huge and small.

* * * *
What cannot survive us, perishes; what can survive us, thrives or abides.
In the declaration of Quintus Arrius to the slaves chained to their trireme oars:
You are all condemned men. We keep you alive to serve this ship. So row well, and live.
Some rowers have wings, some fins, some roots, and some four legs or more.

* * * *
Suffer not the vain, puny, frivolous deities concocted by consciousness
Convoluted assumptions and endless absurdities do not for truth make.

* * * *
You see what you are.
You see what you are not.
So it goes, no worries.

* * * *
The electromagnetic spectrum changes. the chemistry changes,
The body changes, the mind changes, the world changes, the universe changes,
But the awareness, that which perceives that which exists only in imagination, is ever the same,
Unborn, undying, each and every indivisible, indelible, enigmatic moment.

* * * *
Everything that happens is beyond all explicability.
There is no reason, there is no purpose, there is no doer,
And the awareness, the witness you are, is the source of it all.

* * * *
You will inevitably hurt others, intentionally or not.
The challenge, if it is your inclination, is to keep it to a minimum.
If you lean toward a harmful bent, of being sociopathic or some label beyond,
Well, there is really nothing that can be done but witness the blaze in your indifferent wake.
We must all face the consequences of whatever principles we incline.

* * * *
And what has all that pride, all that vanity, gotten you, really,
But yet another life, yet another existence, yet another dream of time,
To which only the ever-evaporating vapor of imagination clings.

* * * *
Are you streaming through space-time, or is it timelessly appearing through you?
What is this inexplicable, impenetrable, indelible, incomprehensible,
Indecipherable, inscrutable, inseparable mystery,
But an indivisible emanation of the ephemeral eternity you are.

* * * *
What anyone thinks, what anyone does,
Is absolutely nothing in the ultimate mind’s eye.
All judgment is but human concoction, human absurdity.

* * * *
Granted, little boys may be made of snips and snails and puppy-dogs' tails,
But little girls, despite all fairy tale indoctrination to the contrary,
Are most definitely not sugar and spice and everything nice.
Going overboard on surreal notions is a bumpy road to delusion.

* * * *
You are but an imaginary blend,
A concoction born of the nature-nurture dreamtime
Into which your temporal seed was cast.

* * * *
Lawyers, accountants, bureaucrats, and all their political allies,
Find interminable ways to make any fine print finer and finer.

* * * *
Mastery in the art of war or any other competitive enterprise,
Is doing the unexpected when the expected is expected,
And the expected when unexpected is expected.

* * * *
You have been hypnotized, conditioned, brainwashed, mesmerized, indoctrinated, deceived,
Into imagining you are what you are not, have never been, and will never be.
In the one and only indivisible reality prior to consciousness,
You are timeless, you are without bounds.
Know this and break free of all limits born of mind.

* * * *
But for the currents of consciousness,
It is as quantum indivisible on the inside
As it is quantum indivisible on the outside.

* * * *
How can the parochial mind ever fathom beyond its countless divisions, its countless limitations?
Thoughts of the rare few who discern a greater vision, despite all their good intentions,
Only again and again cause swells to crash hither and thither upon the shores
Of those unable to plumb deeply beneath the vast ocean surface.
The lone sheep dog can do little to protect the flock
From the crafty, resolute pack of charlatans and usurpers.

* * * *
The world is afire with the madness of humankind’s incessant vanity.
What is there to hope for when faced with such insurmountable odds.

* * * *
All creation is nothing more than a subjective reality,
Born of the human mind, born of imaginary conception.
Objectivity can never be more than an unattainable notion.

* * * *
Call it what you will
– Collaboration, collusion, syndicate, conspiracy –
The quantum enigma is in charge.

* * * *
If there is to be any freedom in this relatively brief, corporeal existence,
The key, the fulcrum, the fount, upon which it is founded, is doubt.
And then only if its embers are fanned by the wind of an indomitable spirit.
There is no journey beyond the conditioning, no venture outside the cave, without it.

* * * *
Your temporal existence will weave your sensory mind
In whatever way the reverie of space-time ripples through it.
The final tapestry will be imbued with the integrity you render it.

* * * *
Human beings always want more-more-more in their ephemeral sojourn in space-time.
But more is really nothing more than an itsy-bitsy vibration in the electromagnetic spectrum,
An indivisible, unborn-undying quantum whatever, which has neither beginning nor end,
Nor any size, nor any shape, nor any limit, nor any time, nor any value, whatsoever.

* * * *
Jews claiming they are the chosen people
Is nothing more than yet another ethnocentric absurdity.
It would be analogous to Woody Allen asserting he is God’s favorite thespian.
No offence, Woody, but it just ain’t ever gonna be so.

* * * *
Who-what-where-when-why-how can any dreamer perform their imaginary character,
But through the nature-nurture sculpting assigned by the genetic lottery.
Embrace it or endure it, from all beginning to all endings,
We are all just prisoners here, of our own device.

* * * *
What is any human existence but a tentative, arbitrary collection of memories,
Perceptions of a dream of time forever forgotten with the last wheezing breath.

* * * *
The irony is that this garden world
Has freely provided everything humankind needs
To drive its brief little dream into complete and utter extinction.

* * * *
Who is the I that believes this awareness their own,
But a brief fiction of imagination entirely alone.

* * * *
Who, what, where, when, why, how … am I?
Who, what, where, when, why, how … are you?
Who, what, where, when, why, how …  is anyone?
Who, what, where, when, why, how …….. is anything?
But the same indivisible upwelling permeating everything.
Call it by whatever vibration you choose, it is the same clayness,
The same omniscience, the same omnipotence, the same omnipresence,
The same unborn-undying awareness, ever creating its Self anew.

* * * *
We are only young or middle-aged or old on the outside.
The awareness within is ever the same timeless upwelling.

* * * *
All time, all history, all narration, whether individual or cultural,
Is nothing more than the play of consciousness, a paradigm of imagination.
All illusion, all delusion, all nothing more than the existential collusion of memory cells.
You are, have ever been, will ever be, the ever-present, right-here-right-now of eternal awareness,
The singular observer, the solitary wanderer, in the infinite-infinitesimal
Of nothing more, nothing less, nothing but.

* * * *
It is pain that forces you to look more closely, to pay attention,
And perhaps even survive, even thrive, yet another day, or more.

* * * *
First Law of the Hoity-Toity: The Hoity-Toity is bona fide.
Second Law of the Hoity-Toity: The Hoity-Toity is indispensable.
Third Law of the Hoity-Toity: The Hoity-Toity is everlasting.

* * * *
The eternal life offered by pure awareness is the one and only true religion.
It has no name, and requires no faith, no scripture, no dogma,
No idols, no symbols, no priesthood, no followers.
Those who believe otherwise muddle in the fog of vanity.

* * * *
The definition of cancer:
The disease caused by an uncontrolled division of abnormal cells in a part of the body.
We are it, and it is us.

* * * *
The something that is nothing is ever the nothing that is something.
Back and forth and forth and back again and again,
The unborn is born and unborn dies.
Oblivion and creation are ever and ever the same.

* * * *
How can anyone ever begin to justify their given existence
In the eyes of someone determined to judge them harshly?

* * * *
Life is solitary, poor, nasty, brutish, and short.
The fleeting existence is confusing, bemusing, bewildering,
Puzzling, perplexing, muddling, flummoxing, befuddling, nonplussing,
Mystifying, confounding, stumping, dazzling, stunning, overwhelming, bamboozling.
To be sure of anything, how is that even remotely possible, really?

* * * *
Nowhere to go, no one to see, nothing to be;
Bubbles of vanity frothing in a crashing sea.

* * * *
Mother Gaia does not give a rat’s ass whether you live or die,
So pay attention, Pilgrim, if you want to live long and prosper.

* * * *
The curious thing about human history across all times and geographies,
Is that once vanity relegates any fellow humanoid to any so-called lesser kingdom,
Any and every variety of abuse or enslavement or extermination is allowed.

* * * *
Contemplation is about consciousness
Putting your imaginary universe in perspective.
Meditation is about being the awareness you actually are.

* * * *
What difference between provincial and cosmopolitan, really,
But arbitrary variations in the shaping forces of nature and nurture.
After all, imagination is just imagination is just imagination.

* * * *
There are no attributes, no patterns, no systems, no laws, no histories,
No quantifying measurables at all in the immeasurable indivisibility.

* * * *
All patterns are created of illusion.
From the indivisible, all creation arises, all creation subsides.
There is naught but eternal unicity.

* * * *
That list of things you will never experience, projects you will never complete,
Schemes you will never carry out, daily grows longer and deeper and broader.

* * * *
The explorer of consciousness is very much alone
In the maze-like concourses of the eternal fabric,
The imaginary hologram of the passionate mind.

* * * *
History will write what it writes, and time will erase it all.
Who is the who, who cares, is the last question standing.

* * * *
Are you a who, a what, a where, a when, a why, a how, in the all of it?
Or a who-not, a what-not, a where-not, a when-not, a why-not, a how-not?

* * * *
What difference between wafting smoke and solid concrete?
Both change, certainly at different rates by any eye,
But just as absolutely, just as inexorably.
It is a god-eat-god universe,
No matter how any mind might measure it.

* * * *
Baal is Baal, Tao is Tao, Brahman is Brahman, Buddha is Buddha, Allah is Allah, God is God,
No conception devised by consciousness can ever be more than a temporal metaphor.
The unknowable, ineffaceable truth of this mystery is timelessly indivisible.
Infinitely, infinitesimally, omnipresent, omnipotent, omniscient.

* * * *
You are your own constant companion.
Be as gentle with your Self as mind allows.

* * * *
The indelible mystery you indivisibly are, is neither friend nor enemy.
It is indifferent to all imaginary notions, indifferent to all temporal attributes.
What attachment can that which creates and preserves and destroys,
Without motive, without remorse, have to anything?

* * * *
Any given existence is shaped by so many injuries, so much suffering.
Like the punctuation marks woven into any given narrative –
The periods, the commas, the question mark, the exclamation points,
The colons, the semi-colons, the apostrophes, the hyphens, the quotation mark –
All whittle, all sculpt, all transform, the fates, the destinies, the outcomes, all life must endure.

* * * *
Who can love unconditionally,
But those whose aversion to differences
No longer absorb, no longer seethe, no longer bind.

* * * *
This here-now is what you are, is what you have been all along, is what you will ever be.
The sensory dreamtime is but imagination steeped in illusion,
Is but a mirage cloaked by delusion.

* * * *
However you spend it,
The moment will always come and go the same, guaranteed.
Time is like that.

* * * *
There is no finishing anything; process is without conclusion.
A punctuation point only signifies some sort of inflection within a sentence,
Or the beginning of the next sentence, the next paragraph, the next chapter, the next book.
The end of one narration is but the streaming beginning of another.

* * * *
What it is, is what it is not.
Same thing, same thingless.

* * * *
Being domesticated, being cultivated, being trained, as a human being,
Does not make you any closer to godness than any other life form.
Every single beast has evolved from the same quantum origin.
The only difference between you and any other organism
Is an inexorable egocentricity born entirely of imaginary notion.
The entire human drama is nothing more than a collusion of consciousness,
Made possible by the evolutionary happenstance of an ingenious, group-oriented mind,
Two arms, two legs, a larynx, opposable thumbs, and high-capacity lungs.
All the critters born into this mystery did not stand a chance.
And, being far too clever for our own good,
Neither, ultimately, do we.

* * * *
Intelligence is a quantum program,
Encoded by natural selection,
Witnessed by awareness.

* * * *
All those little aches, all those little pains, gradually magnify
Into debilitating annoyances over which you have little or no control,
Until they all finally disappear in the dust-to-dust of that last wheezing breath.

* * * *
The quantum physics of nature is indivisibly, ttmelessly, irrevocably Darwinian.
Vectors and velocity and mass spin out consequences each and every moment.

* * * *
All the monotonous things you do day after day after day,
Broken down into a never-ending stream of programmed fragments:
Eating, sleeping, working, brushing the teeth, trimming the nails, ad infinitum,
How much longer to get the gist?

* * * *
How could the observer not be the observed
In this indivisible, kaleidoscoping, quantum mystery theater?
Pfft, even the most supreme being humankind can ever imagine knows that.

* * * *
Who is there to prove anything to, really?
Apart from an imaginary vanity-vanity show,
What more is there than the quantum beingness?
What more is there than awareness of the singularity?

* * * *
The human drama is rooted, is steeped, is bound, in vain notion.
It is nothing more than the perpetual confabulation of imagination.
What solution can there ever be to what was never real from the get-go?

* * * *
The boardroom pharaohs, the sun gods of these our modern times,
Are still succumbing to the mindless vanity of their polyhedron tombs.

* * * *
The incessant back and forth, straddling the fence
Between playing this identity real, and knowing it is not,
Can be more than a little wearing, more than a little maddening.

* * * *
All those thoughts, all those desires, all those fears, all those emotions;
What are they really ultimately but the illusory poof of imagination.

* * * *
The inexplicable garden world from which humankind ascended is a timeless analog creation
That our tool-making abilities have fashioned into a linear technological one.
All well and good in its own right, it is an inescapable reality,
An expedition for which there is no rewind.

* * * *
What is a friend but someone who accepts you as you are,
And does not expect more than what you spontaneously offer.

* * * *
Quantum brain, quantum eyes, quantum ears, quantum nose, quantum tongue, quantum skin,
Quantum nerves, quantum ductless glands, quantum viscera, quantum everything.
A quantum matrix, a quantum hologram, by and for its Self to play,
Perchance to perceive, to realize, to comprehend, its inexplicable mystery.

* * * *
“What is time?” he asked rhetorically.
“No idea,” she answered candidly.
“Nothing but,” his koan reply.

* * * *
We have become slaves to nationalistic and corporate and religious branding,
Following hither and thither the gratuitous whimsy of this logo or that.
The unremitting, pervasive identification of the Me-Myself-and-I,
Well beyond the guileless daze of t-shirts and baseball caps.

* * * *
It is all made up, it is all arbitrary.
The only question, the only concern,
Is how seriously you choose to take it.

* * * *
Who-what-where-when-why-how creates this kaleidoscoping theater of dreamtime,
But the eternal awareness neither within nor without the quandaries of imagination.

* * * *
And why would anyone ever believe any one culture in any given time,
Would ever hold the key to truth, or be favored by any one deity?

* * * *
There is only the here-now, there is only eternal life.
All vain notions about it are ultimately meaningless.
Be anonymous within and without, free of all claims.

* * * *
Libraries and bookstores and thrift stores are chock-full of unread tomes
That, but for the keenness of those destined for obscurity,
May as well never have been written.

* * * *
Where is the apex of the human drama?
Where is the point of diminishing returns?
Have we yet to pass over the bell curve’s peak?
Or is it already a memory in the rear-view mirror?

* * * *
All those memories, all those things, all those sensations, all those thoughts,
All those patterns, dreams, habits, relationships, loves, likes, hates, joys, sorrows,
Skills, awards, derisions, pleasures, beliefs, opinions, notions, hopes, fears, ad infinitum,
All those many experiences, no matter how dear, must all eventually be released and forgotten.

* * * *
Within the pool of awareness,
All possible universes, all possible dreams, dwell.
The creative potential of the quantum essence is infinitely choiceless.

* * * *
What you perceive is but a quantum veil that the sensory mind arbitrarily measures.
Of the immeasurable from which all dreams manifest, there is nothing to be known.

* * * *
Who is more foolish, the writer who penned nonsense in some ancient past,
Or the babbling dittoheads who give it true-believer weight in the here now?

* * * *
What is any worldview, any frame of reference, any paradigm,
But an imaginary state to which the mind every moment clings.

* * * *
The mind is founded upon consumption, upon accumulation, upon differences, upon conflict;
Upon the unremitting narcissistic, hedonistic, self-absorption of the me-myself-I;
Upon the insatiable pursuit of pleasure, of power, of fame, of fortune.
There can be little real peace without discernment and surrender to the indivisible.

* * * *
Awareness is not a sensation.
Beingness is not a sensation.
Reality is not a sensation.
You are not a sensation.

* * * *
Every organism under any given star has a completely different translation of the universe.
Which begs the question, is there even a real universe that stands alone and true?
Or are all nothing more than unique, arbitrary quantum creations,
Done and undone and done again times beyond counting.
Light dancing its Self manifest, for whatever forever dreamtime allows.

* * * *
Alas that pain and suffering play such enduring parts in these corporeal creations,
And all the better-living-through-every-sort-of-chemistry remedies
Can only do so much to salve the myriad ways
The neurology ceaselessly finds
To torture the mind-bodies in which they weave their way.

* * * *
Become aware of the mind as a means
– a tool, a device, a utensil, an implement, an instrument –
Rather than an end – a purpose, an aim, a reason, an outcome, a goal – in itself.

* * * *
If there is ever to be any real revolution of consciousness in this human paradigm,
It will have to begin within the plebeian minds of the wayward mob.
Holding your breath may not be the best strategy.

* * * *
To many unanswerable questions in this dreamtime mystery,
Always springing up here and there like zombies in the fields.

* * * *
What can any human being, no matter the time, no matter the geography, ever really experience,
But their own unique egocentric-ethnocentric-geocentric-solarcentric sensory universe.
That which is perceived through their unique nature-nurture frame of reference.
Every part and particle of it born entirely of subjective, self-absorbed, imaginary notion.

* * * *
How ironic.
How paradoxical.
How absurd.

* * * *
The plethora of inventions to which humankind has given over its tool-making abilities,
Is ever bound to the ground of nature from which they were crafted.
There is absolutely nothing that is not of nature,
No matter the process through which they were manifested.
The source of all things is indelibly, indivisibly, unconditionally inescapable.

* * * *
Everything in this touchy-feely-three-dimensional-space-time dream
Is ultimately nothing more than quantum illusion.
Yes, absolutely all of it.

* * * *
How would any of this be if the awareness you truly are were not bound to the mind-body,
If you were not attached to all the notions inspired by the sensory dream.
The universe did not exist before the unborn was born.
It will not exist after the unborn dies.
Die to it now.
Eternal life is yours for the being.

* * * *
What is prior to religion, prior to doctrine, prior to faith, prior to belief,
Prior to all notions of gods and devils and their myriad minions,
And the countless heavens and hells they spawn in time.

* * * *
Exploring the many-faced no-mind is an alonely path
That has been trod in many times, many places,
By who knows how many monkey-minds.

* * * *
To observe your existence with the same indifference as the infinite unknown,
That is the challenge of all who would be free of all claims of the finite known.

* * * *
Pretty rough to straighten things out
When pretty much everything humankind touches
Ripples into some inevitable fuck-up.

* * * *
What a strange thing it is to hear, to see, any word, any concept,
And realize all the antiquity it took for it to evolve to this point in time,
And that it, and all the other words in the sea of metaphors in which it swims,
Shall ever continue to morph for as long as human consciousness manages to survive.

* * * *
You are only where you are “supposed” to be
When you are fully paying attention to the here-now.

* * * *
The mind weaves it own traps, cuts its own grooves, molds its own way,
Its own obstacles, its own fetters, its own miasma, with unceasing regularity.
It is evolved of narrow thinking, and often resides fogbound for the given lifetime.
Relatively few realize the insightful emancipation, the sovereignty of the immeasurable.

* * * *
The future past, as it more and more feverishly rushes by,
Is completely untenable to anyone paying attention,
And far too few ever have, or likely ever will.
Greed has always worked far too well.

* * * *
The same genetic force, the same patterning,
That draws women into their worlds, draws men into theirs.
Ergo, Mars and Venus, and all the many worldviews playing out over and over.

* * * *
Neither one nor two,
Neither single nor double,
Neither solid nor ephemeral,
Neither everything nor nothing,
Neither what is nor what is not,
Neither living nor nonliving,
Neither right nor wrong,
Neither time nor space,
Neither here nor now,
Neither good nor evil,
Neither true nor false,
Neither judge nor jury,
Awareness is.

* * * *
The quantum universe is engaged in a fair number of adventures.
Sometimes you have to stand in line and wait you turn.
Try to remain rational about it, if you can.

* * * *
An indifferent mind is a reflection of the indifferent awareness.
And the eternal mystery from which it all indifferently emanates.

* * * *
There will always be true believers willing to live and die
For whatever cause they have discerned most noble and true.

* * * *
Every moment giving and taking that which is ever emanating anew,
And you only able to distinguish it through the myriad filters
Born of nature-nurture’s inevitable conditioning.

* * * *
Whatever path to glory might be devised by any given mind,
It is ever nothing more than the vanity born of imagination.

* * * *
What is awareness? What is consciousness?
A chemical reaction? An electromagnetic storm? A quantum wind?
The unknown playing known? Nothing playing something?
A stream unto its Self, however mind conceives.

* * * *
The mind’s self-absorbed emotional sorrow is unquenchable,
But through embracing the barren hollow of the null and void.

* * * *
Happiness and contentment are delusional myths born of sorrow and dissatisfaction.
Consciousness ever ebbs and flows through the ductless glands and viscera.
Abiding in the moment, in the awareness prior to all the chatter,
Is the as-good-as-it-gets any given mind can offer.

* * * *
What the body needs and what the sensory-mind craves,
Are all too often at odds in ways not designed for longevity.

* * * *
Why should anyone provide what you will not yourself earn?
The jungle is a forbidding place, and those who do not make their own way
Cannot forever depend on the compassion of those about them.

* * * *
Every generation plays out the window of time
That the reverie of history offers the given geography,
As it plays out in the ripples flowing to and fro across the world.
From all beginnings to all ends, it is very much a choiceless reality for all.

* * * *
Everything you experience,
Everything you see, hear, smell, touch, taste,
Adds to the frame of reference from which it is eternally witnessed.

* * * *
Even the ethereal begins supposedly traversing the Himalayas,
Are fellow primates, fellow two-leggeds, of the same quantum origin.
No need to make them more paranormal than you or any other cockroach.

* * * *
What pattern is not born of conscious design,
And why would the quantum ground, the source of all,
Be bound by any notion, no matter how grand?

* * * *
The powers that be: the estates, the kingdoms, the empires, the heralds, the behemoths,
The balance-of-power-might-makes-right in these our modern times of this so-called civilized world.
The executive, the legislative, the judicial, the corporate, the media, the bureaucratic,
Are what they please, do what they please, take what they please,
As the rule of law stipulates, or arrogance and avarice allow.
The bottom-feeders, well, they endure, they survive, as they always have.
Or pay the consequences, the tribulations, as the law of the club, of claw and fang, allow.

* * * *
You need not discern all the secrets of this indelible mystery
To yield to the essence of the indivisible awareness
Your are, have ever been, will ever be.

* * * *
Outside the last box is that awareness prior to consciousness,
And where can any box abide in that which is indivisible.

* * * *
When the immeasurable is presumed measurable,
Pretense and arrogance take root, and chaos rules.

* * * *
What is it to awaken, to realize, but to become very still, very attentive,
To the eternal awareness you truly are, have ever been, and will ever be.

* * * *
What part of yes means yes,
No means no, and maybe does not mean yes,
Don’t some people understand.

* * * *
We are all just screengrazers here, with our own device.
Smarter phones, dumber people, daily dumbing down.

* * * *
Fascinating how indifferent we can be toward each other and all our fellow earthlings.
That we can be so cruel, so unempathetic, so unwilling to discern all are ultimately one in the same.
The compassion, the benevolence of the Golden Rule, treating others as you would your Self,
Requires a mind free of desire, free of fear, free of conditioning, free of convention,
A mind willing to stand alone against the whimsies of human limitation.

* * * *
Contentment, satisfaction, gratification,
What are they but variations of the vanity-vanity,
The usual suspect steeping in every moment of conscious design.

* * * *
The mystery is prior to all thought, prior to all knowledge, prior to all emotion, prior to all passion,
Prior to all language, all science, all math, all music, all everything ignited by consciousness.
It is the primal awareness from which the unknowable bursts into timeless creation.

* * * *
Awareness cannot even for a moment
Pause to examine its timeless, non-dualistic nature.
After all, how can that which is the origin, that which is the essence,
Do anything but what it does, be anything but what it is.

* * * *
You are the mystery, you are the unknown, you are the known unknown.
You will make of it what you will, you will do with it what you will,
And if you are a rare one, you will perhaps undo what you will.

* * * *
Any philosophy, any religion, any archetype, any paradigm, that loses sight of natural law,
That loses sight of the indivisible relationship between all things,
Is no worldview worth its brine.

* * * *
Eternal peace is merging into the indivisibly, the aloneness, free of attributes.
Giving the world no thought: some call it heaven, some call it madness.
What matter what any other thinks, what any other believes?

* * * *
How many creatures have suffered greatly or died
That faces might be adorned with clownish facades.

* * * *
Hogwash, nonsense, gibberish, garbage, baloney, rot, claptrap,
Gobbledygook, noise, babble, jabber, poppycock, balderdash, tripe,
Hooey, bunkum, hokum, humbug, twaddle, drivel, rubbish, codswallop.
Words that come to mind when talking politics, economics, religion,
And other juggernauting dysfunctions of the human paradigm.

* * * *
This quantum theater is never more real than a dream.
The awareness you are is never not the witness.
The only question is whether or not you are aware of it.
And from all beginnings to all endings, and all endings to all beginnings,
It really does not matter if you wake up to it or not.
It never did, it never will.

* * * *
The so-called scriptures are not really belief systems.
They are histories, archives, field guides, instruction manuals, schemas.
Insights set down by seers across time and space who have discerned the mystery firsthand.
Does the quantum indivisibility need to worship the forms into which it is made,
Some imagined sculptor, or the essence that is its truest nature?
Does it really need to venerate anything at all?
Is not simply being enough?

* * * *
There is the whacko two-legged in the first standard deviation: we call that normal.
The second, we call eccentric; the third, crazy; and beyond that, insane.
Really all just different shades of the same monkey-mind.

* * * *
The source for one is the source for all,
Which means in the ever-changing quantum theater,
All things great to small are ever consuming, ever being consumed.
It is an eternal, indivisible, kaleidoscoping, one-in-all-all-in-one, god-eat-god reality.

* * * *
Awareness, the source of all creation, knows nothing.
Self knowledge is but the imaginary fabrication of consciousness.
Without the matrix of quantum indivisibility, without the dream of otherness,
There would be no reflection, there would be no inquiry into the mystery of all mysteries.
And even in that reflection, as expansive or focused as it might be,
The inexplicable remains forever inexplicable.


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


SOUNDBITES


What is any history but a collection of half-truths all too often given cultish credence.

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You must navigate your Self home.

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What a show: indivisibly divisible, perfectly imperfect, consciously unconscious.

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Language is but sound steeped in concept.

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What is death but a dreamless sleep blanketed by every sort of notion.

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Ugly generally only gets uglier, and beauty, too.

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All this bother, for nothing.

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Despite all efforts to the contrary, there is not even one universe the same.

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All life must play out its nature-nurture, and the reflection into which is cast.

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Resistance is futile, and all delusions about it meaningless.

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Individuality is the assumption of imagination, as is everything else.

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Why call it anything?

* * * *
It is the differences that prove how alike all things truly are.

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Self-promotion on a quantum scale.

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History is chock-full of nebulous assumptions, about which our attachment harbors few bounds.

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The instinctual mind caught up in consciousness is a voracious beast.

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So many things that just do not matter, and never did, never will.

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Your universe is your muse.

* * * *
The voice of godness is within all.

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Inhale deeply, inhale mindfully, exhale fully, exhale mindfully.

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What is great courage but great disregard for fear’s imbedded shadow.

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Any given life is shaped by the courage with which it is faced.

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Just putting in the time in whatever way the serendipity calls is my lawless.

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Every mind is drawn to a fate of its own making.

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There can be nothing without something, but there cannot be something without nothing.

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Awareness is the source code of the underlying formless.

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The mystery of existence is long no matter how short, and short no matter how long.

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You are richer than you think.

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The only wake imagination churns is the roiling of illusion and delusion.

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The hydrogen bomb was invented by whoever picked up that first rock.

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Going on and on and on to some bitter end … What point?

* * * *
Nothing is as nothing does.

* * * *
And just what does this monkey-mind keep thinking it can hold on to?

* * * *
Why do so many people force others to lie to them so often and so well?

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The universe requires that every ephemeral particle play out its ever-evolving manifest role.

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The immeasurable is immeasurable, no matter how it is spun.

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The mind is a prison of its own imaginary design.

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In the ultimate reality, you have all along been drinking your own pee and eating your own shit.

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Self-righteousness is by and large marinated in hypocrisy.

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Everything is illusion … Yes, all of it.

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A secret is not a secret unless it is kept secret.

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We are all narcissistic hedonists trying to get away with it.

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The question "What is Truth?" has no answer minds known can ever fathom.

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The indivisible I Am is a formless thingless.

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And these thoughts, too, undiscerning minds may well usurp in ways beyond counting.

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To feed the beast or not feed the beast, that is the question.

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When it comes to the mystery, what explanation can ever really mean anything?

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There is only one monkey in the world: one monkey, with many faces.

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The pieces to any game belie all the rules that move them.

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Let us note the vast chasm between tourists and travelers.

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Are you who-what-where-when-why-how you think you are, really?

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A never-ending curiosity how much drama can be fabricated upon things that don’t really matter.

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Irony and paradox are the soulmates of absurdity.

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So many memories that you cannot remember them all.

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Perception is the root of all vanity.

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There is no knowing what cannot be known.

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What are dreams but the subterranean rumblings of the three vanities: the Me, the Myself, the I.

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More, still more, of what you never needed in the first place.

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The scientific mind is ever-watchful, prone to questions without conclusion.

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What is sane, what is not sane, and who cares?

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Humankind will keep rushing to the edge until there’s no edge left to rush.

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Regarding inner peace, there is no controlling the mind, only observing it closely.

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What is death but the end of a universe.

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More to it than meets the eye.

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The Great Quantum giveth, and the Great Quantum taketh away.

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To do nothing is the greatest industry ever devised.

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If you do not do it, why should anyone else?

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The personal self is but a reflection of the impersonal Self.

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Embrace the nothingness you truly are.

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What more can be said of good and evil, but that they exist only in imagination.

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The mystery is a big or small as you envision it.

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If you were not here to witness it, where exactly would your version of a universe be?

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The invulnerability of oneness.

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The moment, space-time it is called, passes whether you attend to it or not.

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Judge, and you shall be judged, likely mostly by yourself.

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The world is an equal-opportunity graveyard to all vanity great or small.

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Nothing, be.

* * * *
Yet another statistic in science’s long and endless trudge into oblivion.

* * * *
Here we all are waking up to another day of pretending it all real and important.

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You are here now, so be here now.

* * * *
Life can be rather a bother, and more bother, and even more bother, can it not?

* * * *
What is death but the physiological ending to what never really was in the first place.

* * * *
What indifferent beasts, the Fates.

* * * *
Cast away, Matey

* * * *
Death erases all pretense.

* * * *
The veil of space-time masks the stillness in which it eternally emanates.

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Life in a nutshell: To be continued, to be endured, to be undone.

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So many things awry, the dominos quake at their fall.

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Every age is modern, every age is civilized.

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Maybe tomorrow, or even a day or three after.

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All in your head, all out there, nothing makes sense, nothing makes no sense, all the while.

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Arbitrary is as arbitrary does.

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What is any attachment but imaginary notion.

* * * *
How can truth ever be discerned by those who will not give the streaming moment their full attention?

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Your perception is as real and unreal as anyone else's in this quantum dreamtime.

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The human species cannot fuck with nature and expect to get away with it forever.

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How can the mystery witness its Self, but through one dream of time or another?

* * * *
The world has an unending array of mirages to continually entice your absorption in its grand illusion.

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Only in the heart of awareness can the mystery even vaguely grasp its Self.

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Resting in Peace.

* * * *
What is life but solitary confinement in sensory dreamtime.

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Time, an imaginary construct since the dawn of mind.

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If joy is the absence of sorrow, and sorrow the absence of joy, what is the absence of both?

* * * *
Round and round we all go in the rat wheel of speculation.

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It is, and is not, whatever you think it is; seek and you shall find.

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So many thoughts, so little time.

* * * *
The schism is first and foremost in your mind; it is up to you to heal it.

* * * *
Is faith anything more than dread translated into the delusion of hope?

* * * *
Your existence is but an imaginary reverie playing out in the synapses of the mind-body.

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Awareness, the font of consciousness, ever the same.

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Void are you but for the swirl of imagination.

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Nobody cares about you as much as you, and if you don’t, well … so be it.

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The quantum faceless is not bound to any face, any form, any creed, any path.

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The same indivisibility within and without all.

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Nothing takes on an entirely new meaning once you see it for what it is.

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If objectivity is possible, it will not include you.

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Garbage in; diarrhea, hemorrhoids, and cancer, out.

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It is a god-eat-god universe, no matter how you measure it.

* * * *
What system can ever serve long with glass as its underpinning?

* * * *
Alas that life does not come with a rewind button.

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What judgment can awareness, need awareness, conveyer of all dreams, ever muster?

* * * *
Awareness is the witness to any sensory devise any universe might possibly create.

* * * *
The true church has no building.

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Yet another parable for an audience never born.

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Humankind seems incapable of any other mode of behavior but squabbling self-interest.

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The intractable doubter settles for nothing less than the absoluteness of that which cannot be known.

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Many a someday never arrives for many a somebody,

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The wolf will find the sheep seeking its fang.

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The art of the chameleon should not be lost upon any whose theater requires vigilance.

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The terrible horrors of human history, even demons sometimes shudder to fathom.

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There they go again playing the pedestal game.

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You get plus-or-minus ten years of innocence, and then spend whatever's left paying for it.

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Yet another day in the never-ending dialectic.

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Even the most impenetrable rock cannot withstand eternity for more than an instant.

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And what will you do when all that glory is but a fading memory?

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Empty in, empty out, empty every who-what-where-when-why-how between and betwixt.

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You do not do nothing; you be nothing.

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Peace is right here, right now, if you have the wit to endure it.

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What is life but organized goo?

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The everything and the nothing is built upon irony and paradox.

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How many zeroes will satiate your greed?

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What is death but the end of time, the end of yesterday and tomorrow.

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The metaphor without is the metaphor within.

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Assumptions, all.

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What point to spending your existence trying to please people you will never even meet?

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God’s will and your will, how are they not the same?

* * * *
What is so absorbing about the idolatry of an imaginary god in the human psyche?

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‘Tis the rare beast who strides across the universe in his mind’s eye.

* * * *
Organized religions are designed to make people stupid and weak.

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Is any history ever anything more than a collection of vague perceptions?

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As forever as never can ever be.

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The babblery of humankind is unceasing and unrepentant.

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No harbor can withstand the tsunamis of time.

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How aware is awareness without the wind of consciousness to create and explore its empty expanse?

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Pretty hard to see clearly when your head is up your ass.

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Another day entertaining the void.

* * * *
Holding on to nothing in your mind is not as easy as it sounds.

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How convenient.

* * * *
Educational systems cannot help but fail if learning is not universally valued.

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The boundaries of imagination are … well … imaginary.

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Abide where life and death are the same.

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The immeasurable is immeasurable, no matter the measure.

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The gods and goddesses of the silver screen walk on high among we mere mortals.

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The fourth quarter is a rough quarter in a game you’re bound to lose.

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Take the high road: Cleaner air, better view, less traffic, and maybe even peace of mind.

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Howdy, bye-bye.

* * * *
We have tool-made ourselves into a corner.

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Which has more value, which is more real, which is more likely: happiness or peace?

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Obligation to what?

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As we are judged by the friends we keep, we are judged by the history we allow.

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It is done when the Reaper says it is done.

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What need for religion for those who have discerned truth within.

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Eternal life is yours for the being.

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Who knows, who cares, what any other thinks of you.

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Words are such inadequate tools for such an eternal task.

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It has always been you.

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Nonexistence playing existence.

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All potentials of consciousness are revealed by the choices in which they find harbor.

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With every breath, another note in eternity’s magnum opus.

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And why would monkeys wearing lipstick be any less ridiculous than pigs doing the same?

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To wander effortlessly is not as easy as it might sound.

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There is not point in playing a part in which only the other is interested.

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Is it he with the most toys who wins, or he who has enough?

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Denial of the truth has never nor will ever change the truth.

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Awareness has no hunger.

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Seriously, folks, is there really any reason to continue playing it out at this level of absurdity?

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The known mind is a finite pattern; awareness, infinite potential.

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Drugs only alter consciousness; the witness is ever the same.

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Another day in the whoever-whatever-whenever-whyever-wherever-however enigma.

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Find a happy woman, and it will be because she is a man.

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War is not the theater for mercy or compassion or remorse or forgiveness.

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Yet another arbitrary binge.

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There is nothing to be figured out.

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How can you arrive when you never really left?

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Words are not the thing, and the thing is not the thing, either.

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The masks and costumes may change, but it is ever the same sun, ever the same monkey-mind.

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What is anarchy but an unbound state of mind, the witness unleashed.

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You only think you exist.

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It ain't a universe, it's a monkeyverse.

* * * *
To discern the universe is all in your head, leaves unanswered, where is your mind?

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Will you die hungry or full?

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That which is, offers nothing, gives nothing, and asks nothing in return.

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The only way is forward, whatever way forward is.

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Unwind the clock of time; be unto awareness as it is unto you.

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A mind given over to the indivisible is no mind at all.

* * * *
Enough rarely is.

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Wake up to the awareness and see what you truly are and are not.

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The discerning universe is in every mind unique.

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The one in all is the all in one.

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The end of desire, and its dancing partner, fear, is peace.

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Laughter is the best medicine if you can swallow it.

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It might be embarrassing if you choose to care what anybody thinks.

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Better living through chemistry.

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Peace is in every step if it is upon the ground you tread.

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What is the universe but the frothy wake of the sensory mind.

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The perfection of all things quantum is in the awareness prior to consciousness.

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An early exit is a nice way to avoid all the funerals sure to follow.

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Yet another day of wandering the universal oblivion.

* * * *
Glimpses of eternity are gleaned by the finite mind through a sensory fog.

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The nuanced view is only a shade of the squinty arbitrary.

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The measurable is the immeasurable all the while.

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A mind awash in differences is a mind waylaid by judgment.

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The greatest and least common factors are ultimately the same, despite all the zeroes and such.

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You are your own exploratorium.

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Be anonymous within and without, free of all claims.

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The indivisible is … well … indivisible.

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Embrace your universe whole, or carve it into pieces, no matter to anyone but you.

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Does anyone really know what time it is?

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God is a preposition.

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Time does not exist but through the minds that give it reality.

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Heaven and Hell are the same thoroughfare, left to the given eye to discern the difference.

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Nothing more, nothing less, nothing but.

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Ignorance will always find a way to distort and maul the truth to its own ends.

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And this, too, shall be forgotten.

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The great secret is neither great nor secret to those who give it their full attention.

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To dial in is to dial out.

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You do not need to organize what is right in front of you.

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Irony and paradox in every step.

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That you exist as anything more than a figment of imagination is an assertion of the same.

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It is your life; live it as you will.

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You are but a slice of eternity’s indivisible electromagnetic rainbow.

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Consumption is all.

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A slow-motion train wreck.

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Doubt opens the door to truth; dogma is not required.

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It was probably well past the point of no-return well over ten thousand years ago.

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Why worry?  You’re dead no matter what you do.

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Distill the nectar from the dung as the dream allows.

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If you must speculate, take it to the farthest reaches your imagination will allow.

* * * *
We must all face the consequences of our own law.

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Your universe is your teacher, and it is a many-faced mystery.

* * * *
The doubter doubts until all doubting is done.

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The world is afire, and there is nothing to be done but witness its ravaging flame.

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Is there life out there in the universe? Who wants to know?

* * * *
The burden you carry is as serious as your imagination makes it.

* * * *
What is eternal life but being born again and again and again each and every moment.

* * * *
And why would you be concerned about that?

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Nothing exists or ever existed but what you imagine existed.

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Be in it but not of it.

* * * *
No, you are not required to give megalomaniacs your attention, undivided or otherwise.

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In what context do you daily dwell?

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To be mindful, or not to be mindful, that is the question.

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A lot of shoulda-coulda-woulda’s in any given life, no doubt.

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The heights to which humankind subscribes is an interminable mound of crap.

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What is the purpose of any culture, but to mold the young into its version of inanity.

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To stand alone is the highest stage from which to discern reality.

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Each mind a meme unto its Self.

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Awareness is the origin, the source, the fountain, the portal, of all mystery.

* * * *
The script will out.

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Nothing to do, nothing to be, but that which all seers see.

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You are here-now and not here-now all the while.

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Remembering to forget, forgetting to remember, a snake eating its own tail.

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The doubted path reigns supreme.

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Is there any label that does not in at least small part apply?

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There is no heaven or hell but what imagination decrees.

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Assume nothing.

* * * *
Allowing funding to politicize science, well, that’s just plain wrong from any get-go.

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The raison d'être of smokescreens is to blind all to the truth within.

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About reflecting upon their thoughts, some are more subtle than others.

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Who is the you who calls anything yours?

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The remorseless tick-tick-tick measures eternity real.

* * * *
Spirit and mind and body do not always have the same agenda.

* * * *
How can you be homeless once you are always home.

* * * *
Mother Nature can be a brutal taskmaster, but her law is, without exception, equal for one and all.

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Yet another here-now in the guise of time.

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You in yet another form; fascinating with a yawn.

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Bell-curving the fourth dimension.

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The rules of the game do not change for anyone or anything.

* * * *
Churning through the clock face of time.

* * * *
Thank you, Jesus, what would we do without Christian guilt?

* * * *
Nothing, doing.

* * * *
Eyes of innocence inevitably give way to the eyes of age.

* * * *
'Tis meme-ish faire.

* * * *
The alonelies strike again.

* * * *
To discern the serenity, the grace, in the ever-present moment is the task set before you.

* * * *
We are all just doing the busy-busy until the coroner shows up.

* * * *
Politicizing a fact does not change the fact.

* * * *
There is no god but that awareness which peers out from within.

* * * *
There are the quick, the lucky, and the dead.

* * * *
The things we will never know are well beyond counting.

* * * *
History is the albatross every culture hangs upon its young.

* * * *
It may well matter less what you do, than the awareness with which you do it.

* * * *
The entire human drama boils down to me-myself-and-I.

* * * *
All assumptions are the breadbasket of delusion.

* * * *
You can never escape or change what you truly are.

* * * *
Who-what-where-when-why-how are you, but an imaginary, conditioned frame of reference.

* * * *
What is punctuation but road signs of the writer’s intent.

* * * *
Original sin, or original separation?

* * * *
And you are it and it is you.

* * * *
Living and complete and utter surrender to the beingness, what else is there for the sannyasi?

* * * *
We are slaves to our own ignorance.

* * * *
Even if it is not real, we love the story, if not the storyteller.

* * * *
To simply be, as all other creatures are in this garden world, is the highest state.

* * * *
Your version of a universe exists only because you are here to witness it.

* * * *
There is just too little time to be caught up with the minions of absurdity.

* * * *
Buku, indeed.

* * * *
Can't save anybody who won't save themselves.

* * * *
Living the dream.

* * * *
The analogy without is the analogy within.

* * * *
Any given flower only attracts the given bee for as long as its enticing essence thrives.

* * * *
Let us count the daze as we wander though the maze.

* * * *
It is the body that is born, the body that endures, the body that dies, not you.

* * * *
Life, it’ll kill ya.

* * * *
A bit confusing, not the first time, and likely not the last.

* * * *
Your universe and everything in it is whatever you think it is.

* * * *
Who knows?  Who cares?  Who anything?

* * * *
And in complete and utter aloneness, where are you, where are you not?

* * * *
And then what happens?

* * * *
Nothing can be lost or saved, to be lost or saved.

* * * *
Do nothing as often as possible.

* * * *
There is much you cannot learn from words.

* * * *
New is old and old is new, only in the ever-changing hues of conscious stew.

* * * *
The god born of imagination is no god at all.

* * * *
Anything has a way of becoming true if there is a selling opportunity.

* * * *
Same sun, different day.

* * * *
Death is but another universe collapsing upon its Self.

* * * *
Ascertain the timeless moment, and the universe will discern its way.

* * * *
Monkey verse for the monkeyverse.

* * * *
Eternity does not even give a shrug whether you brand it with some conceptualized sound, or not.

* * * *
In awareness, be.

* * * *
You may be guilty by someone else’s standards, but are you guilty in your own?

* * * *
Imagined as it all is, some states of mind are far easier to endure.

* * * *
Do you really know your own mind, or are you nothing more than a dittohead meme?

* * * *
Neither a follower nor disciple be: Equals stand equal.

* * * *
Embrace absurdity.

* * * *
How can any god born of limited thinking ever be god?

* * * *
How indifferent the genetic lottery to the cruel fates it so often casts.

* * * *
The ever-shifting consciousness is the granite and quicksand of imagination.

* * * *
How many masters of Wall Street daily whip themselves?

* * * *
You are your own best friend, you are your own worst enemy.

* * * *
Ain’t nothing holy about a holy war.

* * * *
What doesn’t kill you today will take another stab at it tomorrow.

* * * *
Dualistic delusion is so much easier than having to actually think for your Self.

* * * *
How ludicrous to believe some deity is tracking your every move, your every thought.

* * * *
It has taken you this long to figure that out.

* * * *
Behind the eyes, the stillness of eternal awareness, if the frontal lobe can allow it.

* * * *
They just won’t stop breeding.

* * * *
That you are this indivisible quantum mystery is the most obvious of factless facts.

* * * *
History daily playing out its sorry future.

* * * *
To feed the Beast, or not feed the Beast, that is the question.

* * * *
Some politics are local, some are regional, some are national, some are global, all are connected.

* * * *
Another day in the war of mind.

* * * *
Nothing like conflict of one degree or another to stir the blood.

* * * *
Uncare the despair.

* * * *
We are all creators of our own little assylums.

* * * *
All translations are false harbors.

* * * *
Where there is no world, no universe, you are.

* * * *
You are the indifferent quantum.

* * * *
To live in past, to live in future, is but the living face of death.

* * * *
Quantum dream, quantum dreamer.

* * * *
The joy of real work, of real play, how can you explain it?

* * * *
The light turns on, the light turns off, we are all suns in our own time.

* * * *
To realize time does not exist requires pretending it does.

* * * *
Is it arrogant to see it this way, or arrogant not to?

* * * *
The razor’s edge slices and dices many ways.

* * * *
How many die still ravenous for the insatiable more, more, more?

* * * *
How many things have you done or not done because of what others think or may think?

* * * *
No, you do not have to do it that way; you can break the pattern.

* * * *
Fat is an insatiable state of mind, and more than a few die hungry.

* * * *
If you are invoking dogma, you are missing the point.

* * * *
Anticipation is the harbinger of dread.

* * * *
What is your frame of reference but the universe in which you abide.

* * * *
Sense every sense until it makes sense.

* * * *
The inevitable is inevitable.

* * * *
So be it.

* * * *
There will be consequences.

* * * *
Is that voice, that record playing over and over in your mind, really you?

* * * *
Universes are like assholes, everybody has one.

* * * *
The world, the universe, are nothing more than a set of ideas, a bag of imaginary notions.

* * * *
No lie becomes true no matter how many times it is repeated.

* * * *
You are That I Am: Be That I Am.

* * * *
How easily dogma corrupts any thought into one mayhem or another.

* * * *
Wit or shit, it happens.

* * * *
Give the moment your undying attention, for it is quickly forever come and gone.

* * * *
What a clingy thing the mind shaped of time.

* * * *
Yet another cult consolidating its ways and means into being able to call itself a religion.

* * * *
Not everyone is destined for greatness, whatever that is.

* * * *
“What if?” is always a nebulous diversion.

* * * *
Attitude is all: Captivity or liberation, every moment you in mind choose.

* * * *
There is no rewind button, nor is there a fast-forward; there is only endurance.

* * * *
You conquer nothing.

* * * *
You are the unknown made briefly known through the delusion of imaginary notion.

* * * *
God is a metaphor.

* * * *
What is any burden but a state of mind inspired by imagination.

* * * *
What can any bottom-feeder do but abide whatever the behemoths deign?

* * * *
Hope is but begging the question.

* * * *
Good god, would you voluntarily come back to endure that again?

* * * *
The political mind bent on security is ever calibrating its position.

* * * *
Dissolve the other within.

* * * *
The insatiable vanity ever cries for more, more, more.

* * * *
Sometimes it is interesting to give the mob what they want, just to see what they do with it.

* * * *
Absurdity plays ways beyond counting.

* * * *
Time is a stuckness of mind to which most acclaim.

* * * *
What is real, and what is not real, is the awareness upon which all imagination is founded.

* * * *
Every human assumption warrants a critical eye.

* * * *
If we prefer some inane Armageddon over any semblance of rationality, so be it.

* * * *
You came, you saw, you realized.

* * * *
The art of war and artlessness of peace are mutually exclusive.

* * * *
Why call it love?

* * * *
History only has as much weight as imagination gives it.

* * * *
The last of our kind will not know s/he is the last hominoid standing.

* * * *
The quantum reality is pointless.

* * * *
You will never know what came of most everyone you have ever known.

* * * *
Irony and paradox, ever an unborn, undying alliance.

* * * *
Don’t cross the line too often, you might get caught on the other side.

* * * *
Obsessive-compulsives, this is your time.

* * * *
Life springs from and to oblivion, quantum dust all the while.

* * * *
There is no place like home.

* * * *
To diwcern what love is, you must in large part know what it is not.

* * * *
Wherein the oneness within views the allness without.

* * * *
Wealthy beyond belief.

* * * *
It may sound different, but it is the same please, thank you, and fuck you across the world.

* * * *
Suffer well, quantum, suffer well.

* * * *
The discordance of the world is in mind only.

* * * *
Imagination is a prison of its own design; awareness its emancipation.

* * * *
Rationality is nice if you are Spock enough to manage it.

* * * *
Be content to be anonymous in your own mind.

* * * *
The inanity! The inanity!

* * * *
You need not allow the universe to infringe upon you serenity.

* * * *
Choose your Self.

* * * *
What you enjoy is shadowed by what you must endure.

* * * *
Nothing is calling you.

* * * *
Peace, brothers and sisters, peace, what is it that keeps it but an ideal?

* * * *
You cannot explain what you do not know with more than grunts and inarticulate gestures.

* * * *
What wisdom is harbored is harbored alone.

* * * *
Every mind a unique dream, a unique universe, sovereign unto its Self.

* * * *
Go placidly amid the noise and haste.

* * * *
That you pretend you are not at least occasionally a hypocrite is the first and last hypocrisy.

* * * *
Quantum chaos, quantum order.

* * * *
Is there anyone not caught up in the filament of vanity?

* * * *
If now had a name, it would be then.

* * * *
The all-embracing, ever-indivisible Great Nada; nothing pretending something.

* * * *
Yet another very then.

* * * *
What is there to fear about death once you live through it.

* * * *
Childhood ends, alas.

* * * *
Who is not anonymous in the ultimate timelessness of it all?

* * * *
Through all seedlines, you are.

* * * *
You think many things, and because you think them, they are so, at least in your version.

* * * *
Yet another very then.

* * * *
Best to wander about with the clip full and the bladder empty.

* * * *
Rest on whatever laurels your path to glory has managed, imaginary as they are.

* * * *
Gravity must inevitably fall on its own sword.

* * * *
Closer and closer weaves the tide of doom; such is death for all life great to small.

* * * *
Truth has no temperature.

* * * *
How quietly content those barren of the quagmire of assumption.

* * * *
Embrace the inevitable.

* * * *
Let s/he who is without vanity cast the first stone.

* * * *
Prior to consciousness, you.

* * * *
All that can be said with any certainty is that you are the mystery.

* * * *
Every life form its own version of a universe.

* * * *
The Unifying Principle: One equals one, one equals two, et cetera.

* * * *
The choiceless choice is not apparent.

* * * *
Look closely, and what you will see is a dream playing out.

* * * *
It is all pride, it is all vanity.

* * * *
In the face of reality, hope is little more than laughable.

* * * *
Gaia, the ultimate entitlement.

* * * *
Vibration, nothing more, nothing less.

* * * *
Zen madness.

* * * *
History will run your show if you allow it.

* * * *
How quickly everything can be forgotten.

* * * *
Yet another case of tail wagging dog.

* * * *
What good is data if you cannot harness it?

* * * *
Self-imagery is all.

* * * *
You are a mix of rationality and irrationality, same as everyone else.

* * * *
It is and is not whatever illusion-delusion you care to make it.

* * * *
Quested in the mind of consciousness, it rests in the heart of awareness.

* * * *
What is love but nothing known.

* * * *
From wafting breeze to stormy tempest, the monkey-mind blows this way or that.

* * * *
Abide where no thought dwells.

* * * *
It is not you who makes anything happen in this sensory dreamtime.

* * * *
Practice being deader than dead.

* * * *
Do not confuse what the tongue wants with what the body needs.

* * * *
A hell of a lot of bother to die for.

* * * *
Nothing exists for a while, pretends for a while, but ever succumbs to its true nature.

* * * *
Yet another round of irony and paradox.

* * * *
What is entitlement but getting overly, blindly attached to anything that cannot last.

* * * *
All your conclusions are true, all your conclusions are false.

* * * *
The inevitable is inevitable.

* * * *
You will see what you feel called to see, what you are prepared to see.

* * * *
A soul that does not have a price is rare, indeed.

* * * *
Always the beginner.

* * * *
Oh ye of little doubt.

* * * *
There are those who believe in god, and those who are god, and never the twain shall they meet.

* * * *
The true agnostic does not know, does not care.

* * * *
Why would you ever feel the need to do anything other than what comes naturally?

* * * *
This dream is going nowhere very, very quickly.

* * * *
If you believe only the countless lies the senses weave, your destiny is mortal faire.

* * * *
The pendulum caresses the middle of all extremes.

* * * *
You are witness to a cloud of consciousness ever-swirling in the winds of illusion.

* * * *
History is not soda pop.

* * * *
Yet another indecipherable footnote in the annals of history.

* * * *
Ideals have no reality, no meaning, unless they play out in the annals of time.

* * * *
None of the above is always an option.

* * * *
Outside the last box, nothing.

* * * *
Don’t believe your own propaganda, much less anyone else’s.

* * * *
What is awakening but conscious witnessing.

* * * *
Do not rely on the human paradigm to be anything but the pallbearer of truth.

* * * *
Anything is dangerous if you do not know how to do it.

* * * *
Any language is dead without the culture from which it was fashioned.

* * * *
Know when to start, know when to stop.

* * * *
Yet another master race sets itself at the head of its very small table.

* * * *
So many stories: long, short, and every sort of thing between.

* * * *
Panning for gold.

* * * *
Always do your best, and win or lose with as much grace as possible.

* * * *
You are doing the matrix, and the matrix is doing you.

* * * *
Never buy into the propaganda of time; any agenda is not truth.

* * * *
All those eyes looking back are in your own.

* * * *
What is ego but the force of imagination getting over-attached to its endless stream of notions.

* * * *
None of the above is always an option.

* * * *
Wakey-wakey.

* * * *
The invisibility of anonymity offers a relatively quiet existence if the times allow it.

* * * *
Vanity extending itself immortal.

* * * *
Awareness is awareness: Unborn, undying, eternally present, timelessly ephemeral.

* * * *
On high babble.

* * * *
The only koan that counts is the one that has no solution.

* * * *
There is nothing more to be
Than what you already are, have ever been, will ever be.
Vanity is not more.

* * * *
Open the fist, monkey-mind, open the fist.

* * * *
What epic can ever count for much in the winds of relativity.

* * * *
What suffering innocence must endure to abide the horrors of the human paradigm.

* * * *
Another day for consciousness to raise its crescendo yet another notch.

* * * *
Monkey seeing, monkey doing.

* * * *
What is faith but imagination given the wings of hope.

* * * *
You do because you can.

* * * *
There it is … There it is again … And yet again.

* * * *
Preserving the past or bearing concern for the future is a dubious responsibility.

* * * *
Is life blessing?  Is life bother?  Attitude is all.

* * * *
Truth will out nothing.

* * * *
It is ever the same, but no one will ever see or experience it the same.

* * * *
Agenda?  What was that?

* * * *
Was that an accident? Or intentional? You’ll never be quite sure.

* * * *
Another moment of pleasure, another moment of pain, whoo-hoo for nerve endings.

* * * *
Obviously not your first rodeo.

* * * *
In a world given over to demons, what are the righteous to do but whine and moan?

* * * *
The wisdom of insecurity is a solitary affair.

* * * *
And what fear could there be if there were no desire for one more or another?

* * * *
Assumptions all.

* * * *
Wrap your head around that, Pilgrim.

* * * *
Where can there be a boundary between the absoluteness of you and any god?

* * * *
It all so does not matter.

* * * *
Large talk, small talk, all talk, nothing more than the tick-tock-tick-tock of consciousness.

* * * *
The line between what is and what is not, is drawn in the sands of imagination.

* * * *
The most obvious way is the most obvious way.

* * * *
Clouds come and go, sometimes hazy, sometimes roiling, through an ever indifferent sky.

* * * *
To be a worm, oh happy, content life.

* * * *
Many are called, few are inclined.

* * * *
What is any existence but a relatively few daze in the sun.

* * * *
And so what, really?

* * * *
The ignorance of childhood was a bliss of its own, indeed, indeed.

* * * *
The inexplicable requires no god.

* * * *
Peace in the first step, peace in the last step, and in every step between.

* * * *
Be no trace, leave no trace.

* * * *
Merge life and death into the undying, and you will be born again every moment.

* * * *
Nothing matters, nothing does not matter.

* * * *
What is any savior saving but imaginary projection.

* * * *
Is there anything more vain than false peity?

* * * *
Truth be buddha fare.

* * * *
Self-imagery, what a bother.

* * * *
Who questions, and what do they question?

* * * *
There is no before, there is no after, in the clarity of eternal awareness.

* * * *
Let your self dissolve into your Self.

* * * *
What whiners age makes of many if not most of us.

* * * *
Consciousness is bound by limitations of its own making.

* * * *
What is yours? What is not yours?

* * * *
You can change your mind as often as you are able.

* * * *
Inner peace is a breath away.

* * * *
Truth will play along with whatever you imagine it to be.

* * * *
So many lies set in stone by the labels we weave.

* * * *
There is no other, why allow the many voices to entice you this way or that?

* * * *
Un-know your Self.

* * * *
Gravity is the arbiter of the game board.

* * * *
Scientist that you every moment are, you are first and foremost your own experiment.

* * * *
Heaven and Hell are both imaginary states.

* * * *
The dream of consciousness, or the reality of awareness, you each and every moment choose anew.

* * * *
Watch for that bullet; you might be able to dodge it if you see it coming.

* * * *
The beingness prior to belief requires no dogma.

* * * *
Seven Daze: One for God, and the other six for whatever mirth narcissistic hedonism allows.

* * * *
Detach, detach, detach.

* * * *
What is freedom but immortal disregard for mortal faire.

* * * *
Another religion, ho-hum and yawn.

* * * *
What a stomach it takes to abide in any political arena.

* * * *
Be your unborn Self.

* * * *
Blaming anyone for not knowing any different, how reasonable is that?

* * * *
It is written in one sandbox or another.

* * * *
Nero would have a hard time keeping his fiddle tuned in these our times.

* * * *
The certitude with which each moment is approached only exacerbates the suffering.

* * * *
What is never born never dies.

* * * *
What are hope and faith but slothful reaction to the dread of imagination.

* * * *
And what point is there to a questions whose answer is but an echo?

* * * *
How many ways we find to clash over nothing.

* * * *
What freedom, what peace, is there really, in power, in fame, in fortune?

* * * *
The stars have no memory.

* * * *
Yet another day in the salt mines of perpetual doubt.

* * * *
When it gets right down to it, taking a shit is really magical, don’t you think?

* * * *
It is a god-eat-god world.

* * * *
A very brief, very mortal dream, nothing more, nothing less.

* * * *
Watch that record play and play and play, over and over and over, memes all.

* * * *
The Sisyphean 2duz list of the busy-busy.

* * * *
Discern what every other life form in this garden has never not known.

* * * *
Play both sides against the middle, or for it?

* * * *
Disband it whenever you please.

* * * *
What is human existence but the venting of imaginary notion.

* * * *
Zen challenge: Bet I can do less than you can.

* * * *
Quantum is creation is evolution is an incessant, indivisible fact.

* * * *
Humble up.

* * * *
Free Jesus: 2,000 years is long enough to play hostage to fear.

* * * *
Greed works all too well.

* * * *
Yet another harbinger of the fate in store.

* * * *
How ironic, how paradoxical, that it takes so much effort to be effortless.

* * * *
The world is indeed all but flat in its shallow round.

* * * *
Looking neither forward nor back, the witness is.

* * * *
History as we know it is full of self-serving bunk.

* * * *
The Eighth Deadly Sin: Speculation

* * * *
Who knows what will call you before your time is over.

* * * *
Explore the vanities until they no longer hold sway.

* * * *
Different faces, same monkey.

* * * *
Truths, half-truths, and the lies upon which they are shored.

* * * *
To blame it on some devil, to leave it up to some god, how ludicrous is that?

* * * *
Leave no stone unturned.

* * * *
Life is an endless river of epiphanies.

* * * *
Funding is all.

* * * *
Only the mystery knows all, sees all, is all.

* * * *
Male and female worlds rock to a different beat, only in the womb do they meet.

* * * *
This is where the mañana attitude gets you, or not.

* * * *
Too much and not enough all the while.

* * * *
Death is the ultimate detachment; be dead and you will see.

* * * *
There is no religion, only Self-discovery.

* * * *
You think you can change your mind, really?

* * * *
The mind as playground, the mind as torture chamber.

* * * *
The mob votes its mind.

* * * *
The limits of science are the certainties of its hypotheses and the absolutes of its theories.

* * * *
Expectations are bound to be disappointed sooner or later.

* * * *
Only vanity dies.

* * * *
Sot it goes … ibid … Ibid … Ibid …

* * * *
Eternal life, ain’t it grand?

* * * *
What it is, what it is not, same thing, same thingless.

* * * *
Is it a holy spirit, or a whole-y quantum?

* * * *
What are time and timeless but alternate states of mind.

* * * *
Bzzz bzzzz zz z z z.

* * * *
Nothing new under the sun; nothing old, either.

* * * *
Die quiet, die bloody, after the last breath, it won’t much matter.

* * * *
What is not a metaphor?  What is not an analogy?

* * * *
Either you flow with nature, or battle against her; there is no middle ground.

* * * *
Unspin the spin.

* * * *
To more than a few absurdities, eye-rolling is the only coherent answer.

* * * *
The pleasant boredom of eternal presence.

* * * *
The jungle of mind has usurped the jungle of origin.

* * * *
Everyone has a story, all quite equal, really.

* * * *
Yet another corner into which our incessant ingenuity paints itself.

* * * *
Dogma is as useless as rules in a knife fight.

* * * *
Some things never change? Hah!  Look a little closer.

* * * *
Nothing is, nothing is not.

* * * *
Ethics is best served on a full belly from a secure perch.

* * * *
It is written somewhere on the flesh of one forest or another.

* * * *
You are as shaped as any clay figurine.

* * * *
Always curious how god’s will is so often in accord with that of the given believer.

* * * *
No rewind, no fast-forward, now reigns.

* * * *
The tinker’s damn is a solitary curse.

* * * *
We are all equal quantum creators creating; nothing divine about it.

* * * *
If there’s a god behind the curtain, he/she/it isn’t talking.

* * * *
Nod-nod, wink-wink.

* * * *
Dead man walking, dead world spinning.

* * * *
Is real power the wiliness to use the club, or the willingness not to?

* * * *
It is always perfect; only the mind in disarray sees it otherwise.

* * * *
Here you are, passing through a dream.

* * * *
Why do today what you can put off until some day after tomorrow.

* * * *
Close enough for this game of horse shoes.

* * * *
Any mind can suffer its own quagmire, ever drawing the awareness into its depths.

* * * *
Be ever-watchful in the prior-to-consciousness awareness sense.

* * * *
Busy is as busy does.

* * * *
Walk or run or stand still, the same grave catches all.

* * * *
What does it take for effortlessness to be effortless?

* * * *
Create a law; create an extreme.

* * * *
Are you consciousness being watched, or awareness watching?

* * * *
Truth is anonymous.

* * * *
Agnostic is not knowing what it is, and it is also knowing what it is not.

* * * *
And how again was that spelled?

* * * *
There is artistry in everything for those who esteem that level of excellence.

* * * *
Forever happening one moment at a time, simultaneously one.

* * * *
It is up to you to alone get rein of your mind, to alone discern what is true.

* * * *
Any given moment is quite effortless if the mind allows it.

* * * *
Why get involved with nonsensical arguments over any insignificant assumption?

* * * *
We are the gods of dreamtime.

* * * *
A curious thing how so many are always sticking there noses in other people’s business.

* * * *
Mind is movement, and no-mind, the awareness prior to all.

* * * *
What is true, what is not true, may be impossible to prove, but why should you have to?

* * * *
What is any opinion but what would be taken for gas passing at the other end.

* * * *
How pointless to judge a dream.

* * * *
How quickly too little can become too much, and too much too little.

* * * *
What is this mystery but more than everything and less than nothing.

* * * *
Coming soon, yet another hard lesson.

* * * *
Prior to the first word, prior to any I Am, you are.

* * * *
If you knew no different, there would be no cause to pause for reflection.

* * * *
Slice by slice, the pie becomes but a memory; it is only a pie as long as it stays whole.

* * * *
You are all there is, all there ever was, all there will ever be: Where’s the karma in that?

* * * *
The mob will get what it deserves.

* * * *
If you put no edges on awareness, where does it begin, where does it end?

* * * *
Is any mind less variable than the wind?

* * * *
Anything is given more power by dwelling on it.

* * * *
The rutted mind only gets narrower and deeper in its round and round again groove.

* * * *
Quantum theater, quantum playground.

* * * *
Thought is but a habit, which only mindful breathing breaks.

* * * *
Somebody wrote it; it does not really matter who.

* * * *
Often a good idea to have the Cloak of Plausible Deniability in your bag of tricks.

* * * *
And after this, then what?

* * * *
The camel is in the tent.

* * * *
Gaze out into the sensory theater with as much faceless wonder as the given moment allows.

* * * *
Peace, brothers and sisters, if you can abide it.

* * * *
Oh boy, another statistic, whoo-hoo.

* * * *
Following the village idiot, what does that say about you?

* * * *
Is it free will, or free your Self from will?

* * * *
Any given word has in unending array of associates.

* * * *
As predictions go, humankind is off the grid.

* * * *
It just is; so it goes, deal with it, get over it, move on.

* * * *
Awareness you are, nothing more, nothing less, nothing but.

* * * *
Rule one in a knife fight: There are no rules.

* * * *
Existence is but a relatively brief hiccup in an otherwise non-existent eternity.

* * * *
Hold nothing in your mind.

* * * *
Such a cluster; no wonder so many cling to hope.

* * * *
Quantum matrixing.

* * * *
There are just some things only saints and the truly detached can forgive.

* * * *
Like you really had a say in any of this.

* * * *
Of course there is no god in the way anyone thinks.

* * * *
It is all just a dream in your head, the same head you have never seen.

* * * *
Into the swarm, into the storm.

* * * *
In pure awareness, you are That I Am, but to discern it, must still the vanities of mind.

* * * *
The price of the ticket to eternity is your mind.

* * * *
Hell is in the details; heaven in the oblivion.

* * * *
You think you know something, that you know anything, and what, pray tell, is that?

* * * *
The Usual Suspects: Me and Myself and I.

* * * *
Dead is dead, no matter the cause or length of journey in the dying.

* * * *
It is a mystery, you are a mystery, one in the same.

* * * *
The universe nothing more than a lightning storm of imagination.

* * * *
You are a portal, a wormhole, to eternity.

* * * *
The cessation of vanity requires that you stop taking the given mind-body-spirit so seriously.

* * * *
We are all patterns; some more exotic than others.

* * * *
There is only one undying birth for those never born.

* * * *
Creepy boy meets poison girl, live unhappily ever after.

* * * *
Sheep need not apply.

* * * *
To wait for anything to hit the bottom of any bucket, why?

* * * *
Who knows what will happen as the world grows large again.

* * * *
Yet another episode of the Twilight Zone.

* * * *
Any given life is its own unique play of consciousness, a universe unto its Self.

* * * *
The heart is a fickle beast.

* * * *
Is time passing you, or are you passing time?

* * * *
To be at ease with your monkey mind, that is the challenge.

* * * *
Wisdom, what is it good for?  Absolutely nothing.

* * * *
Hieroglyphics on every wall.

* * * *
Eternal life is being mindful in an empty-mind sort of way.

* * * *
… buying … They’re selling … They’re buying … They’re selling … They’re buying … They’re …

* * * *
There are some things even quantum need not endure.

* * * *
The prime number is one.

* * * *
Well enough, indeed.

* * * *
Infallibility, what tommyrot.

* * * *
Some things are destined to make other things favorites.

* * * *
From slavery to salaried, the whip shifts from back to mind.

* * * *
Follow your intuition to a deeper logic.

* * * *
Rationality is a myth, objectivity a lie, inspired by the madness of consciousness.

* * * *
The good guest knows when to leave.

* * * *
Yes, Alfie, even wisdom has its bounds.

* * * *
Suspend your fabricated notions of identity, and the universe you have in mind imagined.

* * * *
The incessant chatter is but a confabulation of your conditioning.

* * * *
A simple “I Am” covers it.

* * * *
Breathe in the dream, breathe out the dream.

* * * *
If it is empty on the inside and empty on the outside, where are you?

* * * *
The god quest ultimately consumes everything.

* * * *
The jungle is without remorse.

* * * *
Do you try to keep up with the Joneses, or leave it all behind and go your own way?

* * * *
Do not confuse arrogance with courage.

* * * *
The first universe was born in a puddle long ago.

* * * *
Rest assured, gravity always wins.

* * * *
What judgment can there be in a mind drifting in the stillness of awareness.

* * * *
The all-consuming quantum is an insatiable beast.

* * * *
No one can help you fulfill your destiny past any uncertain point.

* * * *
Who can say who will be the last prophet?

* * * *
Leave no wake.

* * * *
The masks of oblivion are a cacophony of quantum design.

* * * *
How’s that lie doing?

* * * *
The true believer projects, the truth believer receives.

* * * *
Speculations abound, including yours.

* * * *
Why feel any need to prove what is obvious?

* * * *
Imagine, if you will, that humankind is nothing more than a binge of imagination.

* * * *
You are the quantum gold prior to all dreams.

* * * *
How could oneness ever keep up with gazillions of details, ergo creation unleashed.

* * * *
Such are the wheels of power, of fame, of fortune.

* * * *
Alimentary, my dear Watson, alimentary.

* * * *
To be invisible, or not to be invisible, that is the question.

* * * *
Great wisdom is not without great suffering.

* * * *
Whether singular or plural, is love anything more than imaginary notion?

* * * *
What is human existence but a wisp of vanity.

* * * *
Solution? What ever made you think there was one?

* * * *
What you really are is even better than forever in a forever-after sort of way.

* * * *
On the inside of the mask, the contours are indivisible.

* * * *
You have missed the point, Pilgrim, best go back to square one and start over.

* * * *
Forever … yeah, right.

* * * *
Yet another confabulation of groupthink hogwash.

* * * *
Eternal life, what is it but awareness, what is it but the undying moment.

* * * *
Time wears any number of hats, bare-headed all the while.

* * * *
Tomorrow, coming today.

* * * *
Always arriving, always departing.

* * * *
The dangled carrot, the unforgiving stick, are the foundation of motivation.

* * * *
Another idealistic notion for which history has at best rudimentary interest.

* * * *
Mother Gaia: womb and garden and graveyard.

* * * *
The paths to glory are many and equally vain.

* * * *
The streets of gold are within.

* * * *
You are a footnote in time, ultimately as anonymous as a grain of sand.

* * * *
We must all learn to swim about in our given mind pools.

* * * *
Kick out the other.

* * * *
For all life forms great to small, what is it to exist but ceaseless struggle.

* * * *
What need for dogma when you have eternal life.

* * * *
You do not have to do it all to see it all.

* * * *
There are no guarantees, my friend, no guarantees.

* * * *
The many-faced god is a many-fated god.

* * * *
The total functioning, where would you be without it?

* * * *
Those are the rules of the road … this dreamtime.

* * * *
All things possible are equally impossible.

* * * *
You make it what you will.  How could it be anything more or less?

* * * *
The entire universe is but a speck in the eye of your mystery.

* * * *
Just because you cannot wrap your head around something, does not make it any less true.

* * * *
Breathe easy, consciously, and nirvana will unfold its graceful wings.

* * * *
Adventures in time, stories in mind.

* * * *
The politics of becoming and the politics of being are two very different states of mind.

* * * *
Normal is nothing more than the middle ground of this insane asylum.

* * * *
Awareness, ephemeral, indistinct, nondescript, you.

* * * *
The people who are afraid to die are afraid to live.

* * * *
Let us not confuse inanity with happiness.

* * * *
Disappear as often as mind allows.

* * * *
Nature has no vanity but through human confabulation.

* * * *
It is only consciousness that changes hues; the palette of awareness is ever the same.

* * * *
We invent so many things, and then live to serve them.

* * * *
How many layers of lies have been woven into the fabric of any given tomorrow.

* * * *
Life is always spun whatever way the given mindset inclines.

* * * *
Vanity is the source of every imaginable mishap.

* * * *
The wind is no more wind than any wind could ever be.

* * * *
Any given question runs the risk of being limited by the assumptions from which it spawned.

* * * *
It’s a big fuckin’ universe, and it all starts in you.

* * * *
Is there a universe without you to witness it?

* * * *
Has that face staring back in the mirror ever really been the you staring into it?

* * * *
An imaginary center in the middle of nothing.

* * * *
We have made ourselves lords and ladies of an asphalt jungle.

* * * *
The three vanities … power … fame … fortune.

* * * *
How canny the unprincipled.

* * * *
The weight of tradition falls heavier and heavier upon every new generation.

* * * *
Yet another adventurer exploring this quantum affair.

* * * *
And to which assumptions will you cater today?

* * * *
The final solution is not of the worldly sort.

* * * *
Look in the mirror, we are the pigs wearing lipstick.

* * * *
Fear of the unknown runs deep in time’s bones.

* * * *
There is no resolution to the fragmentation of thought; there is only the next breath.

* * * *
All kingdoms are arbitrary inventions.

* * * *
Dust everywhere in this insidious universe.

* * * *
Maybe god is not what you think, or, then again, maybe it is.

* * * *
What an insistent thing all this empty chatter.

* * * *
There are some who are just not made to recite catechisms.

* * * *
We are all playing out one meme or another, perhaps several.

* * * *
Every seed starts anew.

* * * *
You imagine your Self you, and I imagine my Self me, the operating word imagine.

* * * *
The only real revolution awaits within.

* * * *
If there is a god or gods, are he/she/it/they really any different than any other player?

* * * *
Clock hands, round and round they go, declaring time real at every glance.

* * * *
Be weak or strong, you decide.

* * * *
As simple as it is, weaning your Self from the habitual mind is no easy task.

* * * *
What choice is there in the matter?

* * * *
Tooth and nail versus claw and fang, where would we be were it not for evolution’s happenstances?

* * * *
Human existence is a series of broad strokes filled with vain details.

* * * *
Yes, it will happen to you, too, despite all your hope and the many designs to which you cling.

* * * *
Where is the center without imagination to muster it.

* * * *
The endless quest to know what can never be known is delusional notion from the get-go.

* * * *
Go where no mind has gone before.

* * * *
Consciousness blurring into an indistinguishable din of stillness.

* * * *
Geeks rule in these our modern times, but what will they do when old school rises again?

* * * *
It is all illusion; no cherry-picking.

* * * *
It is your eternal life; best pay reasonably close attention while it lasts.

* * * *
The nothing special daze.

* * * *
Perdition is the interlude of a mind caught between heaven and hell.

* * * *
Just being does not require any particular setting, nor any noteworthy preparation.

* * * *
Awareness is the end-all-be-all of everything and nothing.

* * * *
You have never even once been separate from the moment you are in.

* * * *
Love thy Self, or at least try to put up with it.

* * * *
One man’s mundane is another’s windmill is still another’s wishful thinking.

* * * *
What is eternal life but this very moment in awareness you are.

* * * *
Why would you ever feel required to play it out the way history dictates?

* * * *
All laws but nature’s are arbitrary.

* * * *
You are the ever-emanating now, radiating an imaginary universe.

* * * *
The world and all its attributes are but stardust in your mind.


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


POSSIBLE TITLES


Ponderings of the Joyful Curmudgeon

* * * *
The Mists of Eternity

* * * *
Wakey-Wakey

* * * *
The All-Inclusive Faceless God

* * * *
Every Rose Fades

* * * *
The Carrot and the Stick

* * * *
Dangle the Carrot, Apply the Stick

* * * *
Bite the Bullet

* * * *
The Politics of One

* * * *
Tooth and Nail

* * * *
Fang and Claw

* * * *
Choosing the Choiceless

* * * *
Arcane Babble

* * * *
The Wisdom of Insecurity

* * * *
Assumptions, All

* * * *
The Memedom of Man

* * * *
The Oxymoron

* * * *
The Bewildered Herd

* * * *
The Grand No Other

* * * *
The Man of Many Hats

* * * *
The Identity That Imagination Built

* * * *
The Null and Void

* * * *
The Barren Hollow

* * * *
The Ever-Changing Dream

* * * *
Doing the Matrix

* * * *
The Matrix Doing You

* * * *
God Is A Preposition

* * * *
Of Flesh and Bones

* * * *
The Human Swarm

* * * *
Lost and Found

* * * *
A Slow-Motion Train Wreck

* * * *
The Hunger Games

* * * *
The End of Hunger

* * * *
Horseshoes and Grenades

* * * *
Quantum Born

* * * *
The Self Discovery

* * * *
Stupid is as Stupid Does

* * * *
The Front Porch

* * * *
Raising the Dead

* * * *
The Park Bench

* * * *
Dead Man Walking

* * * *
Dead Man Sitting

* * * *
Dead Man Napping

* * * *
Dead Man Dreaming

* * * *
Dead World Spinning

* * * *
The Dead Poets Society

* * * *
The Dead Mystics Society

* * * *
The Dead Saviors Society

* * * *
The Grand Moot

* * * *
Feed the Beast

* * * *
Don’t Feed the Beast

* * * *
The High-Maintenance Game

* * * *
The Dubious Notion

* * * *
The Courageous Journey

* * * *
One Screen to Rule Them All

* * * *
The Indivisible I Am

* * * *
The Grand Illusion

* * * *
Wandering Empty

* * * *
The Ground In Which You Stand

* * * *
The Arbitrary Universe

* * * *
Back to the Now

* * * *
Human Quibble

* * * *
Hell’s Bucket List

* * * *
The Final Reckoning

* * * *
The Brahman in All

* * * *
The Hive Thing

* * * *
The Great Quantum Giveth, and the Great Quantum Taketh Away.

* * * *
More to It Than Meets the Eye

* * * *
The Invulnerability of Oneness

* * * *
The Esoteric Quandary

* * * *
The Unfolding Lie

* * * *
The Statistical Certitude

* * * *
Quantum All

* * * *
The Nth Standard Deviation

* * * *
A Bag of Delusion

* * * *
Into the Swarm, Into the Storm

* * * *
Eternal Witness

* * * *
There Will Be Consequences

* * * *
Monkey Drama

* * * *
Keeping Up With the Joneses

* * * *
Leaving the Joneses Behind

* * * *
Truth is Anonymous

* * * *
Born Again

* * * *
Nonexistence Playing Existence

* * * *
The Last Scientist

* * * *
The Last Historian

* * * *
The Last Philosopher

* * * *
Outside the Last Box

* * * *
Born of Imagination

* * * *
The God Quest

* * * *
Vanity is Not More

* * * *
The Ditty Man

* * * *
The Never-Ending Dialectic

* * * *
Why We Slave

* * * *
The Masks of Oblivion

* * * *
Arbitrary Is As Arbitrary Does

* * * *
I, Footnote

* * * *
Irony and Paradox in Every Step

* * * *
Achy-Achy

* * * *
And Sorrow Was Its Name

* * * *
And Joy Was Its Name

* * * *
And Mystery Was Its Name

* * * *
Memory’s Haze

* * * *
Ditties for the Pyre

* * * *
More Ditties for the Pyre

* * * *
The Source Code

* * * *
The Pretender

* * * *
What Choice Is There In The Matter?

* * * *
The Mañana Games

* * * *
The Fourth Quarter

* * * *
The Voice of God

* * * *
The Time of Consequences

* * * *
Wheel of Power

* * * *
Wheel of Fame

* * * *
Wheel of Fortune

* * * *
The Dust Collector

* * * *
The Din of Stillness

* * * *
A Quantum God

* * * *
Time, An Imaginary Construct

* * * *
The Emotional Void

* * * *
The Intellectual Void

* * * *
The Spiritual Void

* * * *
The Mean Boy

* * * *
Nobody’s Fool

* * * *
Perfection’s Greed

* * * *
Bucking the Trend

* * * *
Ice Station Zebra

* * * *
Panning for Gold

* * * *
Life is Segue

* * * *
Life is Process

* * * *
Anarchy’s Backburn

* * * *
Breathe In The Dream, Breathe Out The Dream

* * * *
Book of the Living Dead

* * * *
The Everything and the Nothing

* * * *
The Whirling Garden

* * * *
Mother Gaia: Womb, Garden, Graveyard

* * * *
The Indifferent Unknown

* * * *
The Indifferent Known

* * * *
The Indifferent Universe

* * * *
The Indifferent World

* * * *
The Indifferent Nature

* * * *
The Indifferent Body

* * * *
The Indifferent Mind

* * * *
The Indifferent Awareness

* * * *
The Indifferent Time

* * * *
The Indifferent Space

* * * *
The Indifferent Moment

* * * *
The Indifferent Quantum

* * * *
The Indifferent Way

* * * *
The Indifferent Unicity

* * * *
The Indifferent Indivisible

* * * *
The Indifferent You

* * * *
The Indifferent Truth

* * * *
The Indifferent Who

* * * *
The Indifferent What

* * * *
The Indifferent When

* * * *
The Indifferent Where

* * * *
The Indifferent Why

* * * *
The Indifferent How

* * * *
The Indifferent Whatever

* * * *
Nothing Pretending Something

* * * *
The Amalgamation

* * * *
The Streets of Gold are Within.

* * * *
Doing the Cheshire

* * * *
Passion’s Snake, Dispassion’s Rope

* * * *
The Dystopian States of Amerika

* * * *
Nothing Will Ever Be The Same

* * * *
Holodeck Earth

* * * *
Nothing Is As Nothing Does

* * * *
The Constant Companion

* * * *
The Politics of Persuasion

* * * *
The Sound of Silence

* * * *
The Sound of Noise

* * * *
The Immeasurable Is Immeasurable

* * * *
A Speck In The Eye

* * * *
The Quantum Collaboration

* * * *
The Quantum Collusion

* * * *
The Quantum Syndicate

* * * *
The Quantum Conspiracy

* * * *
Nothing Is, Nothing is Not

* * * *
Geezers and Hags

* * * *
The Alonelies

* * * *
Uncare the Despair

* * * *
Malthus Postponed

* * * *
The Elderly and the Fulfilled

* * * *
Restless and Dissatisfied

* * * *
Your Own Little Assylum

* * * *
The War of Mind

* * * *
Life in a Nutshell

* * * *
To Be Continued

* * * *
To Be Endured

* * * *
To Be Undone

* * * *
Many a Someday

* * * *
The Cloak of Plausible Deniability

* * * *
The Intractable Doubter

* * * *
Rest in Peace

* * * *
Don’t Know, Don’t Care

* * * *
The Moi-Infested Dream

* * * *
The Rare Beast

* * * *
Blowback

* * * *
One in All, All in One

* * * *
The Dervish Games

* * * *
The Make-Believe Games

* * * *
The Makebeliever

* * * *
The Point of Diminishing Returns

* * * *
Eden Undone

* * * *
The Universal Oblivion

* * * *
The Wake of Time

* * * *
The Wake of Mind

* * * *
The Vanity-Vanity

* * * *
Where No Mind Has Gone Before

* * * *
The Blissful Way

* * * *
The Ornery Way

* * * *
The Final Daze

* * * *
The Widgeteers

* * * *
An Advocate for Nothing

* * * *
Mind Gorp

* * * *
The Bother and the Annoying

* * * *
The Gnashing Gash

* * * *
The Indiscriminant Woodie

* * * *
The Meter

* * * *
Imagination’s Illusory Wake

* * * *
Snow White

* * * *
Corporate Pharaohs

* * * *
The Seven Dwarves

* * * *
Nirvana and Other Words

* * * *
The Puny Gods of Mind

* * * *
The Attribute

* * * *
Bubbles of Vanity

* * * *
Indeed, Indeed

* * * *
Gibberish In, Gibberish Out

* * * *
The Timeless Wake

* * * *
The Mammalian Concord

* * * *
Matrix Earth

* * * *
Hologram Earth

* * * *
Prison Earth

* * * *
The Pale of Absurdity

* * * *
Beyond the Pale of Absurdity

* * * *
The Wayward Way

* * * *
The Wandering Way

* * * *
Maybe Tomorrow

* * * *
Dear Diary, What a Day It’s Been

* * * *
The Inevitable is Inevitable

* * * *
The Human Stain

* * * *
The Invisibility of Anonymity

* * * *
The Contemplative Life

* * * *
Better Living Through Chemistry

* * * *
The Memedom Come

* * * *
The Morphing Moment

* * * *
Duped Again

* * * *
Faceless Wonder

* * * *
The Debacle

* * * *
The Clash of Titans:
Me, Myself, and I vs. Me, My Self, and I

* * * *
The Conscious Breath

* * * *
The Literal Mind

* * * *
The Figurative Mind

* * * *
The Tangible Mind

* * * *
The Intangible Mind

* * * *
The Abstract Mind

* * * *
The Original Mind

* * * *
The Pedestrian Mind

* * * *
The No-Mind

* * * *
The Divisible Mind

* * * *
The Indivisible Mind

* * * *
And After This, Then What?

* * * *
The Camel’s Nose

* * * *
How Convenient

* * * *
Nothing But

* * * *
Detach, Detach, Detach

* * * *
The Lone Breath

* * * *
The All-Rounder

* * * *
Rta

* * * *
Arete

* * * *
The Generalist v. The Specialist

* * * *
The Gnat Wing Life

* * * *
A Reverence for Everything

* * * *
An Irreverence for Everything

* * * *
Of Reverence and Irreverence

* * * *
The Dystopian Half-Life

* * * *
The Yawning Abyss

* * * *
Mother Gaia: Womb, Garden, Graveyard

* * * *
A Smidgeon of Eternity

* * * *
Neurosis Unleashed

* * * *
Holding onto Nothing

* * * *
Bad Theater

* * * *
The Idolater

* * * *
Time is Like That

* * * *
Eternity is Like That

* * * *
A Pleasant Boredom

* * * *
The Creative Process

* * * *
There It Is

* * * *
The Final Solution

* * * *
There It Is Again

* * * *
And Yet Again

* * * *
On Being in It, But Not of It

* * * *
Walkabout

* * * *
Wanderlust

* * * *
No Direction Known

* * * *
Lords of the Jungle

* * * *
Free Jesus

* * * *
The Human Neediness

* * * *
The Mystery of You

* * * *
The Conceptual Barrage

* * * *
American Krishna

* * * *
American Buddha

* * * *
God is a Preposition

* * * *
God is a Metaphor

* * * *
God is an Analogy

* * * *
The Conscious Witness

* * * *
The Futility of Hope

* * * *
The Pathology of Perpetual Dilemma

* * * *
Die Full, Die Empty

* * * *
Singularity Unleashed

* * * *
The Divisive Mind

* * * *
The Indifferent Witness

* * * *
The Matrix of Consciousness

* * * *
Nothing, Doing

* * * *
Nothing, Being

* * * *
The Genetic Lottery

* * * *
The Maypole Dance

* * * *
The Pedestal Game

* * * *
The Limits of Perception

* * * *
The Doors of Perception

* * * *
Of Human Prattle

* * * *
The Politics of Becoming

* * * *
The Politics of Being

* * * *
The Kingdom of Possibilities

* * * *
It Is Written Somewhere

* * * *
The Age of Absurdity

* * * *
The Factoid

* * * *
One Moment at a Time

* * * *
Churning Through the Daze

* * * *
Squandered

* * * *
The Root Cause of Ugly

* * * *
Stained Water

* * * *
The Untenable Future Past

* * * *
Contraire

* * * *
Hoitytoityville

* * * *
The Choiceless Call

* * * *
It Just Is

* * * *
The Lottery

* * * *
The Early Bird

* * * *
The Unlucky Worm

* * * *
The Insatiable Moi

* * * *
Dumbphones

* * * *
Grumpy Old Man

* * * *
Quantum Gold

* * * *
Zombieland

* * * *
Dumbphone Zombieland

* * * *
The Soma Project

* * * *
The Soma Theorem

* * * *
The Soma Reality

* * * *
The Soma Relativity

* * * *
The Soma Paradigm

* * * *
The Soma Paradox

* * * *
The Soma Irony

* * * *
The Soma Quandary

* * * *
The Soma Identity

* * * *
The Soma Supremacy

* * * *
The Soma Ultimatum

* * * *
The Soma Legacy

* * * *
The Soma Trilogy

* * * *
The Soma Vanities

* * * *
The Soma Games

* * * *
The Soma Trials

* * * *
The Soma Gods

* * * *
The Tinker’s Damn

* * * *
The Doubted Path

* * * *
Tales from the Monkeyverse

* * * *
The Absurdity Trials

* * * *
Living the Dream

* * * *
Tales of Absurdity

* * * *
The Story of Humankind

* * * *
Virulence

* * * *
The Hegemon

* * * *
The No-Problem Mind

* * * *
The Mañana Mind

* * * *
The Empty Mind v. The No-Mind

* * * *
The Mind in Thought v. The Mind in Awareness

* * * *
The Moment

* * * *
The Minions of Absurdity

* * * *
More Ditties for the Pyre

* * * *
The End of Daze

* * * *
Anarchy Now

* * * *
The Witness Unleashed

* * * *
Balderdash and Other Anecdotes

* * * *
Think, Exist

* * * *
Capacities and Limitations

* * * *
The Oligarchy

* * * *
The Minions

* * * *
The Bottom Feeders

* * * *
The Untouchables

* * * *
Nothing Matters

* * * *
Nothing Does Not Matter

* * * *
The Dilemma Games

* * * *
Dialing for Dilemmas

* * * *
The Daily Tentacles

* * * *
The Golden Matrix

* * * *
The Monkey-Mind Unleashed

* * * *
The Then of Zen

* * * *
The Zen of Then

* * * *
Quantum Matrixing

* * * *
The Living Face Of Death

* * * *
Regrets, and More Regrets

* * * *
Your Universe Is Your Muse

* * * *
Balls & Ovaries

* * * *
No Rewind

* * * *
No Fast-Forward

* * * *
Now Reigns

* * * *
Same Sun, Different Mind

* * * *
The Ghost of All Things Past and Future

* * * *
Original Separation

* * * *
The Sensory Blend

* * * *
It Has Always Been You

* * * *
Oblivion’s Net

* * * *
The Camel is in the Tent

* * * *
The Last Vanity

* * * *
No Rewind

* * * *
The Many-Faced No-Mind

* * * *
The Automaton

* * * *
The Freethinkers

* * * *
The Individualists

* * * *
The Nonconformists

* * * *
The Nonbelievers

* * * *
The Atheists

* * * *
The Agnostics

* * * *
The Skeptics

* * * *
The Cynics

* * * *
The Rationalists

* * * *
The Free Spirits

* * * *
The Dream Weavers

* * * *
A Preamble to Stillness

* * * *
Mother Gaia

* * * *
Nod-Nod, Wink-Wink

* * * *
The Marination

* * * *
The Most Obvious Way

* * * *
The All-Consuming Quantum

* * * *
Prior to the No-Mind

* * * *
Beyond the Zen Mind

* * * *
The Spirit of Awareness

* * * *
Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star

* * * *
Feeding the Beast

* * * *
The First and Last Stone

* * * *
The Final Deviation

* * * *
The Prison of Imagination

* * * *
The Liberation of Awareness

* * * *
Void Are You

* * * *
The Ever-Changing Distinction

* * * *
The Pointless Reality

* * * *
The Barbarian Horde

* * * *
The Civilized Flock

* * * *
The Ever-Changing Nada

* * * *
The Final Vanity

* * * *
The Eyes of Innocence

* * * *
The Eyes of Age

* * * *
The Downfall of Pride

* * * *
The Two-Sided Coin

* * * *
The Neverland Chronicles

* * * *
The Soul of Time

* * * *
The Middling Way

* * * *
The Emptiness

* * * *
The Yesterday of Evermore

* * * *
Of Gold and False Gold

* * * *
Moving On

* * * *
The Me, the Myself, and the I

* * * *
The Golden Pussy

* * * *
The Majestic Dick

* * * *
The Actor

* * * *
The Actress

* * * *
Embrace Absurdity

* * * *
The Litany of Delusion

* * * *
The Truth Trap

* * * *
The Unbucket List

* * * *
Assume Nothing

* * * *
Synchronicity

* * * *
The Salt Mines of Perpetual Doubt

* * * *
Dream Thoughts

* * * *
Serendipity

* * * *
Holy Nothing

* * * *
Death’s Untimely Knock

* * * *
Of Goshes and By Gollies

* * * *
Coinkidinky

* * * *
Immortal Fare

* * * *
Immortal Faire

* * * *
The Rat Wheel Mind

* * * *
‪The Script Will Out

* * * *
Bzzz bzzzz zz z z z

* * * *
Always the Beginner

* * * *
Gold Fever

* * * *
No More Tomorrows

* * * *
No More Yesterdays

* * * *
The Soliloquy

* * * *
The Nowadaze

* * * *
Nothing, Be

* * * *
Eternal Babble

* * * *
So It Goes, Deal With It, Get Over It, Move On

* * * *
The Now of Tomorrow

* * * *
The Knower

* * * *
The Awakening

* * * *
A Sane Madness

* * * *
You are That I Am: Be That I Am.

* * * *
War and Peace

* * * *
Paradigm Shift

* * * *
The Emanation

* * * *
The Juggernaut

* * * *
It's a Mad, Mad, Mad, Mad World

* * * *
The Worms’ Feast

* * * *
The Three Vanities: Power, Fame & Fortune

* * * *
The Harbinger

* * * *
The Nothing Special Daze

* * * *
The Omen

* * * *
The Messenger

* * * *
The Sands of Imagination

* * * *
The Sands of Consciousness

* * * *
C’est la Mort

* * * *
The Grand Zero-Sum

* * * *
The Grand Solitude

* * * *
The Warrior’s Tale

* * * *
The Virgin’s Tale

* * * *
The Fool’s Tale

* * * *
Of Meaning and Purpose

* * * *
The Believers

* * * *
The Disbelievers

* * * *
The Followers

* * * *
The Eternal Segue

* * * *
The Many Hats of Time

* * * *
The Behemoths

* * * *
The Bottom-Feeders

* * * *
No Guarantees, My Friend, No Guarantees

* * * *
The Wolves

* * * *
The Sheeples

* * * *
The Antichrists

* * * *
The Cosmic Dancer

* * * *
The Cosmic Jester

* * * *
The Cosmic Curmudgeon

* * * *
On High Babble

* * * *
Which Way the Wind Blows

* * * *
The Transparent Unknown

* * * *
Truth Will Out

* * * *
Truth Will Not Out

* * * *
Neither One Nor Two

* * * *
Trial by Fuck-Up

* * * *
The Beast

* * * *
The Tao of You

* * * *
The Baseline

* * * *
The Portal

* * * *
The Busy-Busy

* * * *
Footnote in Time

* * * *
The Quantum Yawn

* * * *
The Very Annoying Body

* * * *
The Very Annoying Mind

* * * *
The Very Annoying World

* * * *
The Meme-Ridden Life

* * * *
Once Upon a Moment

* * * *
The Detail-Ridden Life

* * * *
It Is Whatever You Make It

* * * *
Gravity’s Vendetta

* * * *
The Nihilistic Review

* * * *
Too Hot, Too Cold

* * * *
A World of Fools

* * * *
The Oblivion Factor

* * * *
The Usual Suspects: Me and Myself and I

* * * *
Oblivion’s Bell Curve

* * * *
The Ultimate Flip-Flopper

* * * *
The Idiot Magnet

* * * *
The Tribal Mind

* * * *
The Tribal Paradigm

* * * *
The Political Mind

* * * *
The Prisoner of Thenda

* * * *
The Pall of History

* * * *
The Electromagnetic Matrix

* * * *
Debacle Road

* * * *
The Benign Moment

* * * *
The Magnanimous Moment

* * * *
The Malevolent Moment

* * * *
The Savior

* * * *
The Indifferent Seer

* * * *
The Dark Heart

* * * *
The Whiny Wannabe

* * * *
Ergo Idolatry

* * * *
Greed Works All Too Well

* * * *
The Hungry Mind

* * * *
No Man an Island

* * * *
The Unknowable Unknown

* * * *
What is Never Born Never Dies

* * * *
The Specialist

* * * *
The Generalist

* * * *
The Meme-Ridden Mind

* * * *
The Ever-Emanating Now

* * * *
Zen Travels

* * * *
The Yogasphere

* * * *
Does Anyone Really Know What Time It Is?

* * * *
The Portal of Awareness

* * * *
The Other Hand Clapping

* * * *
Rest in Peace

* * * *
The Open Fist Mind

* * * *
Koyaanisqatsi: Life Out of Balance

* * * *
Powaqqatsi: Life in Transformation

* * * *
Naqoyqatsi: Life as War

* * * *
The Whoo-hoo Button

* * * *
Me, Myself, and I

* * * *
Me, My Self, and I

* * * *
No One’s Master

* * * *
A Method to the Madness

* * * *
The Heart of Darkness

* * * *
The Order of Chaos

* * * *
The Chaos of Order

* * * *
Always Arriving, Always Departing

* * * *
The Predator

* * * *
The Prey

* * * *
Of Behemoths and Bottom-Feeders

* * * *
What Doesn’t Kill You Today Will Take Another Stab At It Tomorrow

* * * *
And This, Too, Shall Be Forgotten

* * * *
The Resource Wars

* * * *
The Insatiable Mind

* * * *
A Few Daze in the Sun

* * * *
The Prankster

* * * *
The Riddler

* * * *
The Koanster

* * * *
The Matrix Ground

* * * *
A Horse With No Name

* * * *
An Audience of None

* * * *
Buddha Fare

* * * *
Buddha Faire

* * * *
The Filament of Vanity

* * * *
The Universal Creature

* * * *
The Teflon of Awareness

* * * *
Of Quantum Designless

* * * *
The Bounds of Consciousness

* * * *
The Irrevocable Now

* * * *
The Clingy Mind

* * * *
The Eyes of a True Believer

* * * *
The Grand Pooka

* * * *
The King of Pawns

* * * *
Quantum Playground

* * * *
The Judge

* * * *
A Taste Everything

* * * *
A Taste of Nothing

* * * *
The Spiritual Prima Donna

* * * *
The Spiritual Dilettante

* * * *
Blowing in the Wind

* * * *
Peace in the First Step

* * * *
The Midas Mind

* * * *
The Tasteless Nada

* * * *
The Kaleidoscoping Dream

* * * *
The Kaleidoscoping Emanation

* * * *
The Quantum Emanation

* * * *
A Conspiracy of One

* * * *
Fauxpasville

* * * *
The Dream I Am

* * * *
The Vanity Trials

* * * *
The Vanity Games

* * * *
Choose Your Self

* * * *
And You Ever the Same

* * * *
Nothing Happens in a Vacuum

* * * *
Speculations Abound

* * * *
The Aphorist

* * * *
The Cheerleaders

* * * *
The Aliens Among Us

* * * *
The Rebels and Bad Boyz

* * * *
The Beingness Prior to Belief.

* * * *
Yet Another Hard Lesson

* * * *
Stuff, Stuff, Stuff

* * * *
The Mask of Many Faces

* * * *
The Rudderless Voyage

* * * *
Fields of Gold

* * * *
No Place Like Home

* * * *
In This Our World

* * * *
The Wind of Nothing

* * * *
The Vanity of Ownership

* * * *
The Plague

* * * *
You Say You Want a Revolution?

* * * *
No Brag, Just Fact

* * * *
The Rutted Mind

* * * *
Go, Team Moi

* * * *
The Great Everything

* * * *
The Great Nothing

* * * *
The Theater of Consciousness

* * * *
The Theater of Mind

* * * *
Zen Madness

* * * *
The Siesta

* * * *
The Garden Forever Scarred

* * * *
Assumptions All

* * * *
The Blue-Green Pearl

* * * *
The Vapor of Meaning and Purpose

* * * *
Fun, Fun, Fun

* * * *
Pain, Pain, Pain

* * * *
Joy, Joy, Joy

* * * *
No Skin Off My Nose

* * * *
The Boundaries of Fate

* * * *
How True Is That?

* * * *
The Irreconcilable Difference

* * * *
Non Sequitur

* * * *
The Reverie

* * * *
Nothing Ever the Same

* * * *
The Mind as Playground

* * * *
The Mind as Torture Chamber

* * * *
The Mind Pool

* * * *
Opinions and Assholes

* * * *
The Binge of Existence

* * * *
The Cancer

* * * *
Forget Everything

* * * *
The Big Bang of Consciousness

* * * *
The Sojourner

* * * *
Grande Nada Supreme

* * * *
There Is Only Awareness, Everything Else Is Babble

* * * *
More Vanity … Ho-hum and Yawn

* * * *
The Rat’s Ass

* * * *
Ehh, What’s Up, Doc?

* * * *
The Art of War

* * * *
The Artlessness of Peace

* * * *
The Generic Self

* * * *
Only Gray on the Outside

* * * *
The Exorcist

* * * *
Spiritual Anarchy Now

* * * *
The Esoteric Indivisible

* * * *
An Academic Exercise

* * * *
Say What You Mean

* * * *
Mean What You Say

* * * *
The Word and Its Many Associates

* * * *
Nothing’s Wind

* * * *
Cannon Fodder Blues

* * * *
The Briar Patch

* * * *
Of Cotton Patches and Harps

* * * *
The Indivisible Now

* * * *
No One Owns the Truth

* * * *
Of Promises and Lies

* * * *
The Ever-Present Potential

* * * *
The Ever-Present Dynamic

* * * *
The Rise of Apathy

* * * *
The Conditioned Response

* * * *
The Obligatory Existence

* * * *
The Responsible

* * * *
The Reckless

* * * *
The Careless

* * * *
The Negligent

* * * *
The Foolish

* * * *
The Rash

* * * *
The Immature

* * * *
The Unreliable

* * * *
The Imprudent

* * * *
Groundhog Daze

* * * *
The Rocket’s Red Glare, Bombs Bursting in Air

* * * *
Any Metaphor Will Do

* * * *
Humble Up

* * * *
The Unfolding Train Wreck

* * * *
Childhood’s End

* * * *
Homeward Bound

* * * *
Basking in Envy

* * * *
Keeping Up With the Joneses

* * * *
A Dialectic Enterprise

* * * *
The Potent

* * * *
The Impotent

* * * *
The Meaningful

* * * *
The Meaningless

* * * *
You, Scientist

* * * *
The Rebel Without a Cause

* * * *
Stardust Dreamer

* * * *
No Stone Unturned

* * * *
Dreams of Stardust

* * * *
As the World Turns

* * * *
Better Than Forever

* * * *
The End of Greed

* * * *
Quantum Wind

* * * *
Grunt and Point

* * * *
The Trail of Tears

* * * *
The Trail of Joy

* * * *
The Third Pearl

* * * *
Si Se Puede

* * * *
An Imaginary Life

* * * *
Only Vanity Dies

* * * *
The Trials of Imagination

* * * *
The Forest of Mind

* * * *
The You, You Truly Are

* * * *
The Devil Made Me Do It

* * * *
The Effortless Moment

* * * *
The Great Usurper

* * * *
The Coffee Shop Philosopher

* * * *
The Coffee Shop Mystic

* * * *
Time Rider

* * * *
Flight of the Eagle

* * * *
The Long Snooze

* * * *
The Many-Faced God

* * * *
The Many-Fated God

* * * *
Coming Soon: Yet Another Hard Lesson

* * * *
The Still Point

* * * *
The Great Question

* * * *
The Quantum Sound Bite

* * * *
Holy Spirit, Wholey Quantum

* * * *
A God-Eat-God World

* * * *
Memesville

* * * *
The Sphere Of Consciousness

* * * *
A Shard of Imagination

* * * *
Mañana, Maybe.

* * * *
The Conditioned Mind

* * * *
Nothing More, Nothing Less, Nothing But

* * * *
The Alonely Trail

* * * *
The Road Less Traveled

* * * *
Two Thumbs Up, Two Thumbs Down

* * * *
A Wordy Process

* * * *
The Song of Doubt

* * * *
The Roller Coaster Ahead

* * * *
Dreamtime

* * * *
The Tao of Infinitum Absurdum

* * * *
The Zwischenzug

* * * *
The Eternal Gameboard

* * * *
The Mind Behind the Curtain

* * * *
The Clarification

* * * *
Namaste

* * * *
The Vaporous Eye

* * * *
Truth Has No Temperature

* * * *
The Dogma Wars

* * * *
Nothing Left to Do

* * * *
The Twilight Zone

* * * *
No Rules in a Knife Fight

* * * *
A Quantum Translation

* * * *
The Great Whatsit

* * * *
Wrap That Mind Around It

* * * *
Jungle Up

* * * *
The Collusion of Human Scale

* * * *
Creation

* * * *
Genesis

* * * *
Emanation

* * * *
Mister Too-Much-Is-Not-Enough

* * * *
Mardi Gras

* * * *
Wormhole to Eternity

* * * *
The All-in-One-One-in-All

* * * *
The Quantum Manifesto


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


COROLLARIES


George Orwell:
People sleep peaceably in their beds at night
Only because rough men stand ready to do violence on their behalf.
Yaj Ekim's Corollary:
People sleep peacefully in their beds at night
Only because geeky nerds sit ready to write algorithms
For their shopping pleasure for things they never once really needed.

* * * *
J.R.R. Tolkien (Lord of the Rings):
Frodo Baggins: I wish it need not happen in my time.
Gandalf: So do all who live to see such times. But that is not for them to decide.
All we have to decide is what to do with the time that is given us.
Yaj Ekim's Corollary:
Decide well, Friend, decide well.

* * * *
Mom:
Not everyone can be like you.
Yaj Ekim's Corollary:
But, but, but …

* * * *
Ecclesiastes:
Nothing new under the sun.
A time to be born and a time to die.
Vanity of vanities; all is vanity.
Yaj Ekim's Corollary:
Live and learn, die anyway.

* * * *
Melvin Udall to a group of depressed psychiatric patients
(Jack Nicholson in As Good as It Gets):
What if this is as good as it gets?
Yaj Ekim's Corollary:
Waaa!!!

* * * *
Mickey Knox's father’s last words
Before he blows his head off with a shotgun
(Natural Born Killers):
Do you believe in fate, boy?
Yaj Ekim's Corollary:
Nothing but.

* * * *
Nikos Kazantzakis:
There is only one woman in the world. One woman, with many faces.
Yaj Ekim's Corollary:
There is only one monkey in the world. One monkey, with many faces.

* * * *
William Shakespeare (MacBeth):
Lady MacBeth: What's done cannot be undone.
Yaj Ekim's Corollary:
Waaa!!!

* * * *
Jean Baudrillard:
The great person is ahead of their time.
The smart make something out of it, and the blockhead, sets themselves against it.
Yaj Ekim’s Corollary:
The middle path is living in relative anonymity, and leaving it for the world to find, or not.
In the vanity-vanity of it, does it really matter?

* * * *
Kurt Vonnegut (Cat’s Cradle):
Bokonon: If I am ever put to death on the hook, expect a very human performance.
Yaj Ekim's Corollary:
Much more entertaining than a worm.

* * * *
Lee Hoffmann:
The good die young, Michael.
Yaj Ekim's Corollary:
Well, at least I know I won’t live as long as you.

* * * *
Zhuangzi (Chuang Tzu):
Once upon a time, I, Chuang Chou, dreamt I was a butterfly,
Fluttering hither and thither, to all intents and purposes a butterfly.
Now I do not know whether I was then a man dreaming I was a butterfly,
Or whether I am now a butterfly, dreaming I am a man.
Yaj Ekim's Corollary:
Or perhaps neither dreaming both.

* * * *
Irish Proverb:
Curiosity killed the cat.
Yaj Ekim's Corollary:
Don’t be a cat.

* * * *
Plato:
Only the dead have seen the end of war.
Yaj Ekim's Corollary:
Only the dead have seen the end of absurdity.

* * * *
Nikos Kazantzakis:
There is only one woman in the world. One woman, with many faces.
Yaj Ekim's Corollary:
… Yes Dear … You were right … I was wrong … I’m sorry …
The litany every man best remember if he doesn’t care to camp out on a couch or in a car.

* * * *
The Bene Gesserit Litany Against Fear:
I must not fear.
Fear is the mind-killer.
Fear is the little-death that brings total obliteration.
I will face my fear.
I will permit it to pass over me and through me.
And when it has gone past I will turn the inner eye to see its path.
Where the fear has gone there will be nothing.
Only I will remain.
Yaj Ekim's Corollary:
And what fear could there be if there were no desire for one more or another?

* * * *
Walt Whitman:
I think I could turn and live with animals.  They are so placid and self-contained.  I stand and look at them long and long.  They do not sweat and whine about their condition.  They do no lie awake in the dark and weep for their sins.  They do not make me sick discussing their duty to God.  Not one is dissatisfied.  Not one is demented with the mania of owning things.  Not one kneels to another, nor to his kind that lived thousands of years ago.  Not one is respectable or industrious over the whole earth.
Yaj Ekim's Corollary:
So lucky, and they don’t even know it.


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


POSSIBLE LAST WORDS & EPITAPHS


Power … Fame … Fortune … Where art thou now?

* * * *
Just too fucking annoying anymore.

* * * *
Don’t know, don’t care

* * * *
No more tomorrow, no more yesterday,
Naught but the unborn eternal,
Yay oh yay oh yay.

* * * *
Resting in Peace

* * * *
Vanity, Vanity … Where art thou now?


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


BREADCRUMBS


All this has been spontaneously written in the wandering moments
For a destiny most unclear at this point in time.
A strange fate, indeed.

* * * *
Working on wrapping up this little raison d'être, and then out of Dodge.

* * * *
I am about exploring consciousness in my singular way,
So, to Hades with all your meme-ridden judgments
And sundry notions of political correctness.

* * * *
Seen enough, heard enough, smelled enough, tasted enough, felt enough.
There’s more, you say?  Thanks, but no thanks, my world weary reply.

* * * *
There is always a nap working its way into one soon or another.

* * * *
Another memory swept into oblivion in the given mind’s neurological ebb and flow,
Yet another indication, another reminder, of this dream’s inevitable decline and fall.

* * * *
A mad as everyone else in the monkeydom.

* * * *
When has lack of commercial viability ever meant something has no value.

* * * *
That life is over … Sorry … Sort of.

* * * *
The reality is, any given reader may or may not comprehend these thoughts as they were meant.
The reflections offered are ever subject to the frame of reference of the observer.
No thinker, no philosopher, can ever presume his or her views
Will not be use for unintended purpose.

* * * *
Better daze ahead, he muttered with rueful disdain.

* * * *
Got nothing to say, so I’ll say it anyway.

* * * *
Another day of kickin’ and scratchin’ and bitin and whinin’,
And unleashing blood-curdling howls and wretched moans,
As eternity slowly drags me back to its unearthly domain.

* * * *
Never met a label that didn’t fit somewhere along the line.

* * * *
Opinions and an asshole, yup, I gots ‘em, too.

* * * *
Pointing out the obvious to mindsets not even remotely capable of fathoming it,
Too late in the game to be a changer, were it even possible.
And it does not matter even one iota.

* * * *
A soliloquy, to be sure.

* * * *
Lived out this life this way because I had nothing better to do.
The hand was dealt by the path of least resistance,
And I faked it all as best I could.

* * * *
Said what I meant and meant what I said.

* * * *
The light, here again, a new day underway, whoo-hoo for new daze.

* * * *
How weary I all too often am of vanity and all its foibles.

* * * *
The Joyful Curmudgeon: A turd by any other name would smell as sweet.

* * * *
It all this wordy absurdity is ever going be known,
It will be in some other portion of the human epoch,
Because this slice is sure not at this writing interested.

* * * *
Never let anything hit the bottom of the bucket; kind of impulsive that way.

* * * *
Take these many thoughts as reflections only.
Try not to form them into the dogmatic quagmire
To which the human mind all too often prone.

* * * *
Each thought or set of thoughts stands entirely on its own,
To what end no one can no more than endlessly speculate.

* * * *
What a prison mind and body daily more become.
What need for this human paradigm or any other.

* * * *
Somehow survived long enough to write about it.

* * * *
In the fourth quarter now, the time of consequences is upon me.

* * * *
But for a few chromosomes and a difference wind of time, there go I.

* * * *
Gravity is definitely winning,
But it is sure taking its sweet fucking time,
And not always being nice about it.

* * * *
Whether or not anyone ever reads this mass of babble is no skin off my nose.

* * * *
As these words are born into manifestation,
They are composting into a hearty potential
For times none can do more than imagine.

* * * *
Averting the eyes from a train wreck in progress is not easy.

* * * *
Took just one intro philosophy class the first semester of junior college,
And the rest, the rest is the spontaneous combustion of happenstance.

* * * *
Another windmill … (sigh) …

* * * *
Who knows what I said and wrote before all these many thoughts.
Letters, journals, poetry, papers, tests, were retired many moons ago
Into a number of whereabouts-unknown landfills in several geographies.

* * * *
Born a king in a peasant’s life.

* * * *
A decentralized manifesto,
Left for time to do what it will, or will not,
In the vanity faire of consciousness.

* * * *
The aches and pains and debilitations of the aging body and mind are many,
The whys and wherefores for the laughter and merriment of youth fewer and fewer,
Yet the Joyful Curmudgeon wryly endures as irony and paradox impishly allow.

* * * *
Did not ask for this, believe you me.

* * * *
Politely received, politely ignored,
Perhaps because it is all so passé at this point,
Or perhaps because I am not playing the spiritual game
The way others believe it should be played.
Who knows, who cares?

* * * *
In the world but not of it whenever attention allows.

* * * *
Another wound, more crunch, more blood, more screaming nerve ends, ugh and so it goes.

* * * *
Maybe you are clever, maybe you are wise, maybe you are foolish and absurd,
Maybe you are, as all monkey-minds are, a slice of each, all rolled into one.

* * * *
Two thumbs up for slipping between the cracks yet again.

* * * *
Nothing is wanted for you but that you be eternally, happily content.
There is nothing here but compassion for your unnecessary plight.

* * * *
Ditty-up, ditty-up, ditty-up-up-up.

* * * *
Just killing time before it kills me.

* * * *
The cursory scribble of pen to paper is but hammer’s first blow
To the wrought of the final thought that the keyboard,
With spellcheck and thesaurus, will fashion.

* * * *
As drawn to the human drama as a moth is to flame, and as weary of being scorched.

* * * *
Lost again in the nothing-really-matters zone.

* * * *
What is this irritability, this impatience, this ill temper,
That has always been a seething dragon just beneath the sunny surface,
So quick, so impulsive, to raise its turbulent mind for so little cause.
More times than not well hidden, there have been consequences
When the thoughtless tongue was to calamity unleashed.

* * * *
Oh boy, a new pain.

* * * *
I just carry paper and pen, and scribble down whatever comes to mind.
Whether or not it will have any impact in the tempest to come, I know not.
The observer I have become is as agnostic as this busy-busy mind allows.

* * * *
Regrets, and more regrets.

* * * *
Doing nothing as often as possible is where I want to be.

* * * *
Without history, what are we?" Merritt reflected in one many, many moons ago chat.
"The same nothing we are, have always been, will ever be," this I would answer now.

* * * *
Hiss-hiss, scratch-scratch ... Too high school ... Or maybe even junior high.

* * * *
Will anything come of all this babble, probably not, which is okay, and probably for the best.

* * * *
These many thoughts have been discerned in every possible context,
All that is required is paper and pen to jot them down,
And a keyboard to hammer them out.

* * * *
An advocate for nothing, whiling away the dream.

* * * *
Whether good or ill,
What you might or might not think of me,
Is not something to which I often choose to give much weight.

* * * *
Likely committed just about every blunder, every idiocy, of which any man is capable.

* * * *
So far I have managed not to be shot, hung, burnt, crucified, guillotined,
Drawn and quartered, pulled apart by horses, have my throat slowly slit by a dull, rusty blade,
Or otherwise have my fingernails pulled out while stretched out on a rack
With electrodes attached to my private parts.
But the day ain’t over.

* * * *
Two thumbs up about being under the radar, so far.
Let it hibernate, let it ferment, until after I’m gone.

* * * *
I leave it to the dream of time to do with these thoughts what it will or will not.
No fame, no fortune, no power … ever came of them at this writing.
The popes can have their crystal and gold cathedrals
And the echoes of hollow applause.

* * * *
It makes absolutely no difference who I was,
Where I was born, how I looked, how I lived, how I died,
Or any other superficial differences anyone might imagine important.
All that matters is what you or any other critical thinker discerns
In the many thoughts that have come through this mind.
No veneration or dogma or groupthink is required
On the meandering road of Self-discovery.

* * * *
A razor’s edge upon which I quite often slip.

* * * *
Kind of smart, kind of stupid, kind of wise, kind of foolish, all as time in mind allows.

* * * *
Please do not make the mistake of making about the scribe.
He is nothing more than another cauldron of imaginary notion.

* * * *
Must have read a different book.

* * * *
I may be a liar, I may be a cheat, I may be a thief,
And I may daily conspire every variety of murder and mayhem,
But at least I ain’t no Jesus-loving-god-forsaken-double-dealing hypocrite.

* * * *
A walking-talking revolutionary of the paradigm-shifting kind.

* * * *
Thinking positive is no doubt great, no doubt good,
And as soon as this mind discerns something positive
Upon which it might a-ponder, I’ll be a-gettin’ to it.

* * * *
Wait until life bends you over and shows you how tough you really are, you arrogant little shit.

* * * *
Waking up to another day of the happenstancing whatever.
The pointlessness is the only point at this point of the journey.

* * * *
There are no followers where I would lead you.

* * * *
Why would it matter at all to me or anyone else,
Whether or not you or anyone else ever wakes up or not.
You are on you own, it is your show, not mine or anyone else’s.
None can do more than occasionally hold your hand and wish you well.

* * * *
Did I already write, ‘Love thy Self’?

* * * *
And, pray tell, what ignorant foolishness might someday come of these thoughts?

* * * *
Herein I gives you me mind since 1989.

* * * *
How hard can it be to turn water into wine if I can already without effort turn wine into pee?
Well, freshly harvested grapes, the right equipment, a fair amount of time,
And a fervent intention to direct nature’s course.
As for immortal power and divine intervention, I think not.

* * * *
Yes, fans, I am indeed highly fallible, and so are you.
Oh well, so it goes, deal with it, get over it, move on.

* * * *
Just another journey man; just another journey, man.

* * * *
It is because of the life I have lived that I am in this physical pain.
It is because of the life I have lived that I can endure this physical pain.

* * * *
End run after end run – Go, Team Moi

* * * *
To understand my concept of god is to leave behind any and all.

* * * *
Got nothing better to do than nothing much.

* * * *
Don’t know why some folks think I’m so negative.
I am very certain, very confident, very positive, very optimistic,
That the remainder of human history is going to be bent over in many, many ways.
And there ain’t no lubricant on the market gonna be much help.

* * * *
If there is some sort of supreme deity, some sort of all-powerful being,
And he/she/it is as petty and possessive and downright mean
As the minds of our kind have so often ordained,
Well, all I can say is fuck him/her/it,
And willingly cast this life force back into the obscurity,
The indivisible oblivion from which I perceive all creation is made manifest.

* * * *
How cruel, how selfish women are, that they would bring a child into this world.

* * * *
More blather for the dust collection.

* * * *
Nothing else to do, nothing else to be, nothing else to see.

* * * *
Am I the crazy one?  Am I the fool?  Only if rationality has lost all meaning.

* * * *
Haven’t saved anybody, yet.

* * * *
The world certainly has you in its miasmic brouhaha, my friend.

* * * *
Sure, I may be wrong, but it will be tough to prove.

* * * *
Remember always that these many thoughts are offered up as reflections, not dogma.

* * * *
Not quite the hermit monk, but only by a few notches.

* * * *
Doing the Cheshire one smile at a time.

* * * *
There is a wealth in these thoughts that most will value as swine do pearls.

* * * *
Don’t see a point, don’t need a point.

* * * *
Yet another thing in the collection of things I’ll never again use.

* * * *
A long list; pages and pages and pages of regrets.
Sigh, oh well, so it goes, deal with it, get over it, move on.
In the quantum Ice-Station-Zebra of it, it never really happened.

* * * *
I am, therefore I chatter and drink, not necessarily in that order.

* * * *
All across time, in every geography,
So many names for this unfathomable unknown.
I call it Quantum, and I am That I Am.

* * * *
Don’t know, don’t care.

* * * *
The everything and the nothing to you,
Is the same everything and nothing to me.

* * * *
A road less traveled sort of life that just sort of happened.

* * * *
Some fellow business graduates would zealously tell interviewers
That they loved solving challenging problems and dilemmas.
Me, I wish I had thought to say that I absolutely despised problems,
So much so that I would resolve them as quickly and efficiently as possible,
And with such Machiavellian force that they would never again rise up to bother me.

* * * *
A ghost fading even in his own dream.

* * * *
A collection of thoughts that will change absolutely nothing.
A Sisyphean enterprise this mind both endured and enjoyed.

* * * *
Would that I were always as detached as I play it for the mob.

* * * *
The middlemen are not going to be happy about this.

* * * *
Watching it all play out with yawning interest.

* * * *
These many thought are dedicated to future incarnations of awareness,
Others who are not others, but awakened versions of the same discernment.
We all play out consciousness in our own way, but at the source, ever the same.

* * * *
Here it is, today’s little piece of bother.

* * * *
The only difference between me and any other,
Is that I can occasionally step back far enough to discern a larger picture.
I am no one’s master.

* * * *
Am long past thinking humankind will ever transcend its all-too-predictable patterning.
We are an mind-boggling collection of cancerous maniacs from the jungle get-go of our origin.
The only question is whether we will obliterate the garden before it manages to off us.
Or we ourselves, or maybe very hungry alien insects or a big fucking comet.

* * * *
The list of bothers is long, and daily longer.

* * * *
Yet another articulate foray into the irony and paradox of our kind,
To which so many are blind, or, worse yet, even more apathetic than I.

* * * *
I won't miss us.

* * * *
The first thing I do every morning is thank God I was born a man.
And the second, that I woke up alone, without a migraine.
Look but don't touch is the motto at this graypoint.
Praise Jesus the time of the wanton erectile is all but done.

* * * *
Mister Too-Much-Is-Not-Enough.

* * * *
To be, or not to be, far from the maddening crowd, that is the question.

* * * *
Just an amusing pastime; nothing more, nothing less.

* * * *
Mañana, maybe.

* * * *
A natural-born killer who chooses not to most of the time.

* * * *
Please, God, if there is a God, please, never again.

* * * *
So many good deeds, so many heinous crimes.

* * * *
A growing absent-mindedness, both literally and figuratively.

* * * *
The vaporous eye me-my-Self-I-ing.

* * * *
A crusty old knight in rusty old armor on an arthritic old mount,
Wandering about searching for that old wind-beaten windmill.

* * * *
These writings must develop their own legs.
Else they will evaporate back into the quantum ground
From which all things are born and unborn.

* * * *
And thus is imagination cast out to its limitless reaches.

* * * *
You want another story? This isn’t the droid you're looking for.

* * * *
All these ditties shuffled and reshuffled again many times.
The only thing of which you the reader can be sure,
Is that it was all scribed in the circa Y2K,
From 1989 until the whatever-whenever finale.

* * * *
Rest assured, all my opinions are as meaningless and anyone else’s.

* * * *
All this is written so it doesn’t have to be written again.

* * * *
All these thoughts, my raison d'être, such as it is, for reasons unknown.

* * * *
Fortunately, rhyme and reason are someone else’s delusion.

* * * *
Only gray on the outside.

* * * *
In a hundred years, in a thousand years, in ten thousand years,
What will all these across-the-board thoughts have accomplished,
What will they have done, what will they have undone, if anything?

* * * *
Life fair? You’re looking for some other choir.

* * * *
This is my work, my calling, my raison d'être.
It pays nothing, offers nothing, is overseen by nothing.
Vanity is its birthplace, contentment and peace the only reward.

* * * *
Aphorisms, perhaps even less interesting to the masses than poetry,
Or at least a back-and-forth-by-the-nose-neither-win-nor-lose rival.

* * * *
Jaded to tears but for the occasional hiccup in the quantum fray.

* * * *
Baubles and jewels, for you to discover, for you to discern, or not.

* * * *
Trying to share these thoughts with any not so-inclined
Is about as effective as beating your head against a wall.

* * * *
In the world: Sometimes of it, sometimes not.

* * * *
You call all this pain and suffering a gift!? Hmm and hah, indeed, indeed.
Some supreme being needs a punch in the nose as far as these eyes ponder it.

* * * *
Turn the other cheek?
Well, maybe, maybe not.

* * * *
Will these thoughts, too, be usurped by one meme or another?

* * * *
Didn’t ask for this existence, why should I care about another?

* * * *
For a guy who did not want much of anything,
I sure ended up having and doing and thinking
Way, way more than I would have ever dreamed.

* * * *
“Oh, my God!” she cried, “And perchance mine, too!” I replied.

* * * *
All these thoughts are from a lifetime of inquiry,
A lifetime of voluminous and varied experiences played out.
A thesis of sorts that this most earnest mind has discerned of its own merit.
It could not be less, and if there is an even more insightful conclusion to be expounded,
Then it is for some other, perhaps even you, to bring it to light.

* * * *
Turning you every which way but loose; that is up to you.

* * * *
Maybe you get one free hit,
Maybe even two if the cheek makes a turn,
But carte blanche, I think not.

* * * *
I have no life, so I spend it amusing my Self.

* * * *
The aliens among us are you and I.

* * * *
You’re the least ambitious person I’ve ever met,” Lena said.
“Thank you,” I should have answered as it echoed in my head.

* * * *
I Am Footnote.

* * * *
Where could I lead anyone but oblivion, and what point in that?

* * * *
And then I woke up, and I was still me.
And then I woke up, and I was still me.
And then I woke up, and I was still me.
And then I woke up …

* * * *
If consciousness wants these thoughts to be known, it will devise a way.
If not, how can what was barely known be more than barely forgotten?

* * * *
In this, I bequeath you my mind.

* * * *
Nobody’s teacher, nobody’s friend, nobody’s lover, nobody’s enemy.

* * * *
Mixing metaphors, what fun.

* * * *
Another day of absurdity infinitum … Ho-hum.

* * * *
These many thoughts, they change as they are thought,
Change as they are written, and may change many times again,
Before they happen into your eyes, and the universe in the mind behind.

* * * *
Labels?  I fits ‘em all, and I ignores ‘em all just the same.

* * * *
A wordy process, indeed.

* * * *
Who in their right mind wants to think this much about naught without end.

* * * *
An original work, whatever that is.

* * * *
Waking up to another day of pain and suffering and general bother,
In a world for which I have only obligatory, desultory interest,
But must continue enduring, must continue witnessing,
For as long as pulse and breath and mind allow.
I didn’t ask to be here; I ain’t prayin’ to be staying.

* * * *
The ro-sham-bo-rock-paper-scissors-zero-sum of marital bliss:
Yes, Dear, you are right, I am wrong, please forgive me,
And for good measure: It won’t happen again.

* * * *
Sure, I may be wrong, but not as far as I’m concerned.

* * * *
Just passing the time in whatever way comes to mind.

* * * *
The I that I dream came into existence in Hughson
In Stanislaus County in California in the United States of America.
Specifically, 37°3611N 120°521W of this our Gaia, speck in the Cosmos that it is.
This mind-body is male, Caucasian, American English-speaking, with an all-rounder set of abilities.
It was raised on a small peach farm by decent parents a mile outside a decent rural town.
It was given a generic education that ended with a generic business degree,
Followed up a decade later with a generic teaching credential.
It worked a wide variety of occupations in a wide variety of geographies.
It interacted with a wide variety of people and participated in a wide variety of experiences.
At age 36, it began what would evolve into a substantial body of written work.
What a remarkable thing the happenstance of being conceived.
What a remarkable thing all the happenstances that happen along the way.
And as for having free will, well, some claim it true, but these eyes see it a dubious assumption.

* * * *
These writings have absolutely no connection or allegiance
To any organized religion or philosophy, that has ever, or will ever, come to light.
They are reflections of a solitary sojourn into eternal reunion,
And there are no rules in a knife fight.

* * * *
Are all these thoughts written that humankind might realize worldwide harmony?
No, impossible that, the inherent genome is far to too Darwinian for such idealistic notion.
No, they are penned for those singular few who yearn, who pursue, Self-knowledge to such a degree
That they may one day divine the immortal serenity of the grand indivisibility,
And perchance pass it on to others of the same bent.

* * * *
Appellations by which I may be known,
Or much more likely unknown:
Michael Jay Holshouser
Michael J. Holshouser
M. J. Holshouser
M. Holshouser
J. Holshouser
Jay Holshouser
Mike Holshouser
The acronym: M. J. H.
Mike Jay reversed: Yaj Ekim
And an infrequent nom de plume
Using a blend of ancestral favorites:
Andrew James Kurtz, a.k.a. Drew Kurtz

* * * *
A response to cousin Steve Hunt on human greed:

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

* * * *
A response to cousin Steve Hunt on civility and the human paradigm:

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

* * * *
A response to cousin Steve Hunt on an article about America’s quest for happiness:

No matter where we meander, no matter where we rest our weary heads, getting through any given instant still boils down to a mindful dollop of detachment. Not taking it all so seriously, not taking ourselves so seriously, is the first and last challenge. Conscious of it or not, in one way or another, we are all playing out the Atlas of our conditioning, and learning to set down our imaginary universe may not be as hard as we choose to believe.

* * * *
A response to Saroj who complimented me about all the work it took to write this:

Don't know that I'd call it work.  More of a hobby, really.  Thoughts just sort of come to mind, pen sets them to paper, and the keyboard does the rest.  Just over 4,000 pages in a variety of blogs at this writing.  An enjoyable process, but it’s highly unlikely that anyone but me will ever read it all.

* * * *
A response to cousin Steve Hunt on an article speculating that the world is a simulation:

Seems obvious that it is the awareness in all of us that's the source of this quantum theater.  Not sure why we always need gods or aliens or some Matrix programmer to explain the inexplicable mystery that will always be an inexplicable mystery.  You are it and it is you, and it ever boils down to just being in the moment, in whatever indivisible here-now the mind and senses are playing out.

* * * *
Another response to cousin Steve Hunt on another article speculating that the world is a simulation:

The Matrix was an enjoyable movie, and certainly one that wrapped our minds around an interesting concept, but it was just a movie.  I find it more than a little unlikely that we are wired up in a vat playing out a universe programmed by a galactic junior high student.  I even find it curious anymore that we are so geocentric as to think there are other worlds with civilizations and life forms that parallel our own.  I don't say there isn't other life out there in the vast timeless reaches, just that we are likely a unique one-of-a kind creation, seemingly well on our way to a very dystopian extinction.

* * * *
A response to Len Howard on the endgame:

You are preaching to the choir when it comes to irritability with all things great and small anymore.  This world and body can be very annoying, indeed.  There are far too many moments when it is extremely unwise to be in the exploding universe of my presence.  Very challenging to always be detached, and I'm just approaching a sprite sixty-three.  Hard to imagine how bothersome it will all be before the Reaper finally kicks this body to the worm pile.  Being mindful of the innocents is the task, for the scorpion can and will sting without warning.  I suppose the wordplay is often my salvation, my therapy, my means to put things in context, to seek out the larger perspective, to regain clarity and serenity in the miasma of the day-to-day.  The Joyful Curmudgeon is what I call myself anymore, and he can be an unruly beast.

* * * *
A response to cousin Steve Hunt on an article about the quest for happiness:

Have never understood the futile quest so many people undertake for happiness.  To me life is about living in the given moment, being as aware of eternity's passing with as much attention as the mind-body is capable of giving it.  In this play of consciousness, some moments are indeed less painful than others, but there is no way they can always be joyful, pleasurable, or whatever other nirvanic soundbite we might give it.  Life is process, life is segue, and all the punctuation marks, all the pleasures and pains, pass as timelessly as the points between.  The people who are afraid to die are afraid to live, afraid to give themselves over to the eternal now we all really are, have ever been, will ever be.  To be as innocent, as simple, as untainted as a child, is to give your self, your awareness, over to the undying moment, and few of we mere mortals are capable of that once desire and fear have become the all-consuming wraiths they are.

* * * *
A response to cousin Steve Hunt on an article about happiness in the workplace:

The quest for happiness has never been an issue for me.  If you think about it, it ain't going to happen.  All my workplaces have always just been workplaces, and my satisfaction with them entirely based on my own sense of self-actualization.  Working in some sort of children’s playground with swing sets and slides is yet another rung of absurdity in these our times as far as I’m concerned.  Being in the moment is its own intangible reward.

* * * *
A response to Bruce Styles and his rant about Donald Trump and the unfolding takeover of the White House:

And not to break your bubble, but our little republic was well on its way to being lost long before you and I were born.  I've been using a variety of terms for years – corporate oligarchy, consumeracracy, consumptionacracy – to imply it nothing more than another footnote in the dreamtime of history.  Ye old USofA was a nice little experiment, with all sorts of high-sounding wordplay and patriotic symbology, to which we were conditioned to pledge allegiance, just as doomed to failure as any city or nation state ever has been.  The few have always ruled the many.  Only the faces and names and means and memes change.  Just a matter of how and when, never if.  Trump and his crew of Alt-Righters are just the current issue, the current tools.  The dress code may not be black or brown or march in lock-step, but the one-percenters and their minions are ever in charge.  And the masses, the mob, the plebes, the proles, the citizens, call them what you will, loyally, blindly, incoherently, go along as long as they have their bread and circuses.  And the hydra of technology only makes it easier and easier to sway them this way or that.  Whine and moan and stomp your feet and even rebel all you will, it changes nothing.

You might want to re-read some George Orwell:

Nineteen Eighty-Four

Animal Farm

Goodreads Quotes: George Orwell

Terry Gilliam gave us another good one:

Brazil (1985 film)

And, of course, Aldous Huxley:

Brave New World

And let us not forget Ray Bradbury's contribution to the mix:

Fahrenheit 451

Two of my Orwellian favorites:

The past was erased, the erasure was forgotten, the lie became truth.

Now I will tell you the answer to my question. It is this. The Party seeks power entirely for its own sake. We are not interested in the good of others; we are interested solely in power, pure power. What pure power means you will understand presently. We are different from the oligarchies of the past in that we know what we are doing. All the others, even those who resembled ourselves, were cowards and hypocrites. The German Nazis and the Russian Communists came very close to us in their methods, but they never had the courage to recognize their own motives. They pretended, perhaps they even believed, that they had seized power unwillingly and for a limited time, and that just around the corner there lay a paradise where human beings would be free and equal. We are not like that. We know that no one ever seizes power with the intention of relinquishing it. Power is not a means; it is an end. One does not establish a dictatorship in order to safeguard a revolution; one makes the revolution in order to establish the dictatorship. The object of persecution is persecution. The object of torture is torture. The object of power is power. Now you begin to understand me.

So it goes, too bad, so sorry, oh well, deal with it, get over it, move on.

Take a nice walk today.  Sit in the sun, smell some roses.  Don't resist when a shadow in a black suit puts the barrel to the back of your head.

Ciao, ciao,

M

* * * *
A response to Gary Gerard and a Christian conversion story he wanted me to read:

Just finished reading the story you sent.  Thanks for the good intentions, but it just doesn't do a thing for little old agnostic moi.  I reside in the indivisible don't-know-don't-care, have no sense of there being a god outside my Self, and what happens if anything after this body falls off is of absolutely no concern.  The existential here-now dreamtime is more than enough.  By my reckoning, all mythologies are nothing more than human-created, fear-based, greed-laced, egocentric-ethnocentric-geocentric-solarcentric mind gorp.

So, from my perspective, enjoy the moment as best ye may; it is all you have and have not.

Ciao, ciao,

M


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