Leftovers
If You had head on the pillow, knowing You were never to awaken again,
Would You struggle to remain awake, or willingly give over to oblivion?
* * * *
Sight.
Sound.
Feeling.
Smell.
Taste.
The weavers of mind.
And that is just in the human context.
* * * *
The entire human paradigm, is nothing more than ever-streaming stories, born of imagination.
The you, You pretend You are, is nothing more than a narrative born of imagination.
Eternity is but the very right-here-right-now, indivisible, indelible moment,
In which no narrative can hold ground, but for imaginary assertion.
* * * *
Imagination is a vain, greedy, insatiable beast.
The startup instincts, magnified beyond all pales.
* * * *
The taste trap.
The smell trap.
The vision trap.
The sound trap.
The feeling trap.
Mind, the hunter.
* * * *
All those sounds You use to describe, to illustrate, to label,
Your imaginary self, your imaginary world, your imaginary cosmos,
Cannot, even for a moment – penetrate, infiltrate, breach – the eternal moment.
* * * *
Without the mind-body, where would You, where could You, be?
And with the mind-body, and whatever senses are given,
Who-what-when-where-why-how are You, really?
* * * *
There is nobody to lead, there is nobody to follow.
Do not make it about anyone, about anything,
But the ineffable mystery, You truly are.
* * * *
What are You really, truly, actually, essentially, indivisibly,
But quantum, kaleidoscoping through the stillness, the mystery, of eternity.
Naught but spaceless, timeless, unborn, undying stardust,
Come unto the illusion of existence.
* * * *
Have You seen enough?
Have You heard enough?
Have You tasted enough?
Have You smelled enough?
Have You touched enough?
Have You pondered enough?
How glutted need You be?
And all, but imagination.
* * * *
The clock is not real, the calendar is not real,
Nor is your face, nor your body, nor your mind.
It has all been a quantum illusion from the get-go.
To awaken, is to see the moment for what it is.
To be free, is to surf eternity’s dreamtime,
With a mindset inclined to stillness.
* * * *
Awareness is ...
Without individuality.
Without character.
Without space.
Without time.
Without desire.
Without fear.
Without contrast.
Without dread.
Without concern.
Without division.
Without notion.
Without perception.
Without opinion.
Without instinct.
Without impulse.
Without faith.
Without principle.
Without urge.
Without creed.
Without certainty.
Without trust.
Without dogma.
Without assumption.
Without light
Without animation.
Without life.
Without death.
Without personality.
Without sound.
Without dark.
Without hope.
Without speculation.
Without despair.
Without ambition.
Without self.
Without identity.
Without potential.
Without plan.
Without belief.
Without concept.
Without anything.
Within everything.
* * * *
The absolute is without yes or no, good or bad, this or that.
It is without duality, in any way, in any size, in any shape.
* * * *
Duality, individuality.
Dualism, individualism.
Dualistic, individualistic.
Notions that blind the mind.
* * * *
So much is imagined.
So much is arbitrary.
So much is subjective.
So much is random.
So much is uninformed.
So much is illogical.
So much is capricious.
So much is indiscriminate.
So much is haphazard.
So much is unpredictable.
So much is changeable.
So much is variable.
So much is impulsive.
So much is whimsical.
So much is unreliable.
So much is fickle.
So much is erratic.
So much is wayward.
So much is flighty.
So much is thoughtless.
So much is impetuous.
So much is muddled.
So much is imprudent.
So much is precipitous.
So much is rash.
So much is reckless.
So much is irresponsible.
So much is madcap.
So much is disordered.
So much is hasty.
So much is confused.
So much is messy.
So much is spontaneous.
So much is frenzied.
So much is unruly.
So much is tumultuous.
So much is chance.
So much is disorganized.
So much is anarchic.
So much is chaotic.
Oblivion, the only solution.
* * * *
Future and past are nothing more than projections of imagination.
The eternal omnipresent, the eternal moment, is untouched by either.
* * * *
Irony! Paradox!
Irony! Paradox!
Irony! Paradox!
Irony! Paradox!
Irony! Paradox!
Irony! Paradox!
Irony! Paradox!
Irony! Paradox!
Irony! Paradox!
Irony! Paradox!
Irony! Paradox!
Irony! Paradox!
Irony! Paradox!
Irony! Paradox!
Irony! Paradox!
Irony! Paradox!
Irony! Paradox!
Irony! Paradox!
Irony! Paradox!
Irony! Paradox!
Irony! Paradox!
Irony! Paradox!
Irony! Paradox!
Irony! Paradox!
Irony! Paradox!
Irony! Paradox!
Irony! Paradox!
Irony! Paradox!
Irony! Paradox!
Irony! Paradox!
Irony! Paradox!
Irony! Paradox!
Irony! Paradox!
Irony! Paradox!
Irony! Paradox!
Irony! Paradox!
Irony! Paradox!
Irony! Paradox!
Irony! Paradox!
Irony! Paradox!
Irony! Paradox!
Irony! Paradox!
* * * *
What is called space, time, continuum,
Is but quantum dreamtime, quantum illusion.
The clay of stardust taking every form,
In the ineffable ether of eternity.
* * * *
Why would any God, why would any deities, any idols, ever need to further judge,
What most if not all monkey minds, have no-doubt done, times beyond counting.
And, no doubt, all the imagined hells and purgatories are chock-full of misery.
* * * *
Arguing over illusion is about
– as meaningless, as pointless, as irrational, as futile, as absurd –
As it can possibly get.
* * * *
However the proverbial apple was plucked and eaten - metaphorically, literally, whatever –
The monkey mind, in its perpetual quest for knowledge, imaginary as it ever is,
Has certainly stretched and tormented this finite pale blue dot,
To incomprehensible strains in every forum.
The Fates await our arrival.
* * * *
Ethics in warfare is an absurd oxymoron.
It is a deadly game, that ultimately has very clear goals: domination and/or annihilation.
What matter, really, how it is done?
* * * *
To discern it, to breath it, to kaleidoscope it – illusion – every streaming moment,
Is the challenge for all born to – see it, hear it, taste it, smell it, feel it – as one.
* * * *
How can we be sure Eve is to blame for picking the forbidden fruit way back when,
When there is not even one selfie or artificially-intelligenced video posted on Youtube?
How can anyone believe a folktale written who knows how many thousands of years later?
* * * *
The True Believer
Undiscerning
Sucker
Credulous
Mark
Unsuspecting
Victim
Fall guy
Dupe
Uncritical
Naive
Unsophisticated
Gullible
Green
Foolish
Unwise
Susceptible
Trusting
Accepting
Imprudent
Impressionable
Innocent
* * * *
The moment, the mystery, is the same today,
As the moment, the mystery, was yesterday,
As the moment, the mystery, will be tomorrow.
As if space and time existed, as more than a figment of imagination.
* * * *
How could any Supreme Being stand watching this world, for all the time it will take,
To play out, act out, this heavy-on-the-steroids, epoch Shakespearian paradigm-dreamtime.
And all for naught but the merest slice, of all the billions of years it took, to build the set.
The billions of years it took to naturally select, naturally design, the ever-evolving cast.
* * * *
… knowledge and wisdom cloaked awareness …
… cloaked the mind, cloaked the body …
… cloaked here, cloaked now …
… cloaked the moment …
… cloaked eternity …
… cloaked the eye of God …
… and imagination took the helm …
* * * *
So much oxygen deprivation everywhere.
Imagination cannot breathe for anyone.
* * * *
From its first etchings in the jungles of long ago,
Imagination has carved a fate, a destiny, a consequence, a finale,
From which it cannot in any way deviate, from which all choice has been erased.
* * * *
One of the differences between poets and aphorists,
Is that one can often be left unsure the poet's meaning,
Whereas a say-it-as-it-is aphorist leaves little or no doubt.
* * * *
Despite all vanity and greed and passion to the contrary,
Any given container is merely a means for the given helix of DNA,
To continue and continue and continue, on and on and on,
For as long as the nature-nurture of fate allows.
* * * *
Questions of quantum dream, what do, with what You see.
Questions of quantum dream, what do, with what You hear.
Questions of quantum dream, what do, with what You smell.
Questions of quantum dream, what do, with what You taste.
Questions of quantum dream, what do, with what You feel.
Questions of quantum dream, what do, with what You think.
* * * *
All desire, all fear, all dread, all passion, are but the projections of imagination,
Casting forth its space-time illusion, in the omnipresence of the eternal moment.
* * * *
All creation requires some level of destruction,
And all destruction renders some form of creation.
All ever-changing, ever-morphing, ever-kaleidoscoping,
Indivisibly, in the unfathomable quantum dreamtime of it all.
* * * *
Never assume You are being watched.
Never assume You are not being watched.
* * * *
A worldwide game of thrones, spewing every imaginable this-way-and-that.
What point, all the vanities, all the greed, all the horrors, all the seven deadlies?
* * * *
The mind’s scrutiny, perceives a world, perceives a cosmos,
Creates a narrative, and spins it over and over, in the given reverie.
And You, naught but an imaginary thespian, imagining it all real, it all true.
Playing impromptu with whatever nature-nurture, whatever cards, have been dealt.
And the essential, cardinal truth, when all is said, when all is done,
Is that it is all nothing more than quantum illusion.
* * * *
The path behind, the path ahead … ever pathless,
Through the oblivion of eternity’s spaceless-timeless-wayless.
No memory any younger, no memory any older, in any mind’s reminiscence.
Recordings, impressions, notions, remnants – etched upon neural eyes of the quantum matrix.
Imaginary, arbitrary, subjective, whimsical, haphazard, capricious perceptions.
All make-believe … nothing more, nothing less, nothing but.
* * * *
What any other thinks of You,
What You think of yourself,
What You think of your dreamtime,
Is nothing more than the poof of imagination.
* * * *
Is it possible to make the oblivion of eternity,
The default setting, in this theater of conscious design?
To see everything eternally.
To hear everything eternally.
To smell everything eternally.
To taste everything eternally.
To feel everything eternally.
To think everything eternally.
* * * *
What is the insatiable mind, ensnared in its matrix of space and time,
The insatiable mind, an invention of yesterday, every future past moment doing,
But desiring-fearing-dreading, the story, the narrative, the chronicle, the frame of reference,
Imagination every moment envisions, every moment projects, every moment usurps,
As a steadfast, resolute reality, that it has never been, that it will never be.
* * * *
It is neither your imagination, nor my imagination.
It is neither your ineffable, nor my ineffable.
It is neither your dream, nor my dream.
It is just a théâtre de l'illusion.
A théâtre de l'absurde.
* * * *
The insatiable mind every moment consumes through the lens of its frame of reference.
What does it take, to change the default setting, from the worldly mind, to the eternal one?
Only by stilling, the desires, the fears, the dreads, is it possible to be the moment, You truly are.
* * * *
Your world, your cosmos, is created every time You see it.
Your world, your cosmos, is created every time You hear it.
Your world, your cosmos, is created every time You taste it.
Your world, your cosmos, is created every time You smell it.
Your world, your cosmos, is created every time You touch it.
Your world, your cosmos, is created every time You think it.
* * * *
Observe closely the ever-changing quantum matrix,
Every moment kaleidoscoping before your five measly senses.
Yes, even that rock is morphing as surely as You are.
* * * *
It is the same eternity it has ever been.
It is the same moment it has ever been.
It is the same omnipresence it has ever been.
It is the same nonduality it has ever been.
It is the same nowness it has ever been.
It is the same isness it has ever been.
It is the same timeless it has ever been.
It is the same spaceless it has ever been.
It is the same instant it has ever been.
It is the same immeasurable it has ever been.
It is the same magical it has ever been.
It is the same oblivion it has ever been.
It is the same omniscience it has ever been.
It is the same nameless it has ever been.
It is the same enigma it has ever been.
It is the same anonymity it has ever been.
It is the same unborn it has ever been.
It is the same undying it has ever been.
It is the same indivisible it has ever been.
It is the same unfathomable it has ever been.
It is the same indelible it has ever been.
It is the same ineffable it has ever been.
It is the same kaleidoscoping it has ever been.
It is the same matrix it has ever been.
It is the same awareness it has ever been.
It is the same quantum it has ever been.
It is the same inexplicable it has ever been.
It is the same infinity it has ever been.
It is the same infinitesimal it has ever been.
It is the same interminable it has ever been.
It is the same formless it has ever been.
It is the same abyss it has ever been.
It is the same ephemerality it has ever been.
It is the same unknown it has ever been.
It is the same stillness it has ever been.
It is the same omnipotence it has ever been.
It is the same absolute it has ever been.
It is the same singularity it has ever been.
It is the same aloneness it has ever been.
It is the same dreamtime it has ever been.
It is the same truth it has ever been.
It is the same mystery it has ever been.
* * * *
How many lives of the rich and famous and powerful have You seen,
That do not in their endless theatrics, boil down to something unenviably pathetic?
That we laud them with such fanfare and renown, says far more about us than it ever will them.
* * * *
To let one’s guard down,
To be open, to be vulnerable,
Is the reality of the ageless moment.
The reality, the spontaneity of eternal life.
The return to the origin of all creation.
Eternal salvation in every moment.
The kingdom of heaven on earth.
* * * *
The quantum matrix, in which all creation is made manifest,
Is ever the same, can never become more, can never become less.
The same atoms that were once in stars and dinosaurs, are in You, as well.
* * * *
How long can the busy-busy mind,
Endure the stillness, for which it imagines it longs?
Illusion that dreamtime ever is, it every moment, seems real enough.
* * * *
Quit imagining You truly-really know anything,
And get back to that tabula rasa newborn,
You once upon a timeless were.
* * * *
See it or not, everything is equally the same quantum mystery.
All vanity, all greed, all desire and fear and dread, all passion plays,
Mean absolutely nothing – nil-nada-zippo-zilch – in the ultimate context.
* * * *
Why do so many take it to some bitter end?
Endure so much agony, so much suffering, so much sorrow,
But because they have not sated the hunger for the dream to which they cling.
Wring their meager, wretched existence, to the last possible drop.
Milk one more tomorrow into one more yesterday.
Unto the last, final, wheezing breath.
And for what, really?
* * * *
A minute is sixty seconds.
An hour is sixty minutes.
A day is twenty-four hours.
A week is seven days.
A month is four-ish weeks.
A year is twelve months.
A decade is ten years.
A century is ten decades.
A millennium is ten centuries.
A million years is one thousand millenniums.
A billion years is one thousand millions.
The moment is a long timeless.
* * * *
Socrates, as scribed by Plato, is rumored to have said:
“Marriage or celibacy, let a man take whichever course, he will be sure to regret it.”
And what of the non-marriage-non-celibate, no-regret choices,
These modern moments have allowed?
* * * *
Every life form plays out a unique, matchless destiny,
And all are but kaleidoscoping swirlings of the same mystery.
What need for any dogma, when awareness is the one and only way.
* * * *
By whatever sound, whatever vibration, it is labeled
– Consciousness, thought, knowledge, idea, concept, memory –
All things of mind are naught but temporal fabrications of imagination.
Only the indelible awareness of the moment is, and is not, real.
And imagination, but clouds wafting through its ether.
* * * *
Measuring illusion in every imaginable ways and means,
Has drawn the paradigm down its long and winding Yellow Brick Road,
Since long before the first etchings of so-called civilization.
* * * *
To believe any deity is out there judging anyone or anything,
Is the most nonsensical thing imagination has ever concocted.
* * * *
Whether considered a religion or a cult, with an unassailable belief system,
Whether laced with scientific or mathematical or engineering certainty,
The real issue is why the monkey-mind is so bound and determined,
To concoct an ultimate answer to a mystery beyond all definition.
What need would the mystery, ever have, to define its enigma?
* * * *
Make your Self,
Make your ultimate,
Make your awareness,
Make your right here,
Make your right now,
Make your moment,
Make your eternity,
The default setting.
* * * *
How is it any mind truly believes, it has any say in its fate?
The dreamtime is for all to play out as their nature-nurture deigns.
To declare any choice, in any of it, is an exceedingly dubious assumption.
* * * *
Every measurement that mind can imagine,
Means diddly-squat to the quantum matrix,
Or the awareness through which it reckons.
* * * *
How can You not doubt, what You cannot see for your Self?
How can You not doubt, what You cannot hear for your Self?
How can You not doubt, what You cannot taste for your Self?
How can You not doubt, what You cannot smell for your Self?
How can You not doubt, what You cannot touch for your Self?
How can You not doubt, what You cannot think for your Self?
* * * *
History has always been spoken and written and sung and painted and sculpted by storytellers.
Those talented enough, to set forth their perceptions, in whatever medium calls them.
All projecting their frames of reference, into every imaginary manifestation.
No guarantees, no warranties, as to how well, or how accurately.
* * * *
To be remembered by anyone,
Requires some level of notoriety,
In whatever way the perceiver deigns.
* * * *
How can You not discern that your biology,
Is in no way, greater or lesser,
Than any other creature in this dreamtime?
All are equally manifest of the same unborn-undying mystery.
* * * *
All fates are the result, the outcome, the consequence,
Of all the choiceless choices, it took to reach the finish line.
How is it any minds truly believe they have any say in their fate?
* * * *
This moment, this right here, this right now,
Is the only point that you can say You are alive.
The future past imaginary you, conditioned by time,
Has never come close, despite all narcissistic assertions.
* * * *
How can the ultimate truth that the moment is, be so glaringly obvious,
And yet, so many, so irrationally, so mindlessly, so absurdly, blind to it?
* * * *
Let it all go, and there You are.
Pure, immaculate, flawless, faultless, pristine, impeccable, perfect awareness.
Tabula rasa, the eternal life of eternity.
* * * *
Aware of it or not, the moment is omnipresent, omniscient, omnipotent.
Ever the same indivisible, indelible, unfathomable awareness.
Ever the same unborn, undying, changeless eternity.
Ever the same You, that has ever been.
* * * *
Even if our kind could somehow change, could somehow tweak, its modus operandi,
Into what shoulda-coulda-woulda, shoulda-coulda-woulda, it possibly be,
That would set it upon a sane course, upon a rational tack,
That would waylay its race to extinction.
* * * *
Irony! Paradox!
Irony! Paradox! Irony! Paradox!
Irony! Paradox! Irony! Paradox! Irony! Paradox!
Irony! Paradox! Irony! Paradox! Irony! Paradox! Irony! Paradox!
Irony! Paradox! Irony! Paradox! Irony! Paradox! Irony! Paradox! Irony! Paradox!
Irony! Paradox! Irony! Paradox! Irony! Paradox! Irony! Paradox! Irony! Paradox! Irony! Paradox!
Irony! Paradox! Irony! Paradox! Irony! Paradox! Irony! Paradox! Irony! Paradox!
Irony! Paradox! Irony! Paradox! Irony! Paradox! Irony! Paradox!
Irony! Paradox! Irony! Paradox! Irony! Paradox!
Irony! Paradox! Irony! Paradox!
Irony! Paradox!
* * * *
How often does the wage-slave-salary-slave paycheck, find a way to
– Set aside, put off, shelve, reject, dismiss, suspend, postpone, stall, rearrange, delay –
The charade, the pretense, the invention, the sham, the make-believe, the absurdity, of ethical choices.
Ultimately, little more than the luxury, the harvest, of a full belly and a safe harbor.
* * * *
Life is full of gain, life is full of loss.
Transcending both requires a fair amount of detachment.
An artful dance, to which a great deal of attention is required, to navigate it well.
A long and winding kaleidoscoping, which birth begins, and death ends.
Ultimately, is existence any more than a zero-sum dreamtime?
* * * *
From Frank Herbert’s ‘Dune’
Bene Gesserit: The Litany Against Fear
* * * *
How did some supreme being generate this universe and our garden orb?
In one eight-day madcap rush, or a pain-staking process, requiring billions of years,
Of natural selection, mutation, nature-nurture … all random, haphazard, unplanned, arbitrary,
Chaotic, disorganized, casual, muddled, disorderly, slapdash, accidental, in every which-way imaginable.
What is any creation but a process, a painter with a blank canvas, a sculptor with a just-quarried rock.
Deliberate design, or chaotic design, which is truly more likely, which is truly more intelligent?
Surely, however this mystery came to be, it is present in every thread of its vast weaving.
A quantum matrix of creation and preservation and destruction, every bit of it, You.
A mystery, kaleidoscoping through the immensity of your eternal awareness.
* * * *
The ability to adapt, to whatever challenges might arise, is a paramount skill,
For all intending to endure, to survive, to perhaps even thrive,
Any given moment in this mystery dreamtime.
There is no shortage of misery, of pain and suffering,
For those unable, unwilling to change, as the moment calls.
* * * *
This spinning pale blue quantum dot is a churning, ever-morphing sea of imagination.
Listen closely to the silence, give attention to the prior-to-consciousness moment.
Prior to the heady winds, the swirling bedlam of its maddening cacophony.
* * * *
All living things, small to great, already inherently have eternal life.
Surrendering to the eternal moment, to the eternal now, is all any need do.
For the spaceless-timeless, for the unborn-undying, to reign absolute,
Requires a focused discernment, prior to any and all description.
* * * *
Every moment that You imagine yourself to be tangible,
Imagine your entire existence, your entire array of perceptions, an actuality,
You – reincarnate, rejuvenate, restore, revitalize, re-embody, reawaken – an imaginary persona,
Within the gray matter, within the neuron matrix, within that cranium.
* * * *
What is this quantum cosmos, this quantum world, this quantum mind-body,
But an unfathomable, three-dimensional, kaleidoscoping dream of space and time,
Created and maintained and inspired, by however many senses any given container grants.
* * * *
In the grand Monopoly Game of this dreamtime,
Eventually only the zealous and astute are going round and round,
And all the rest are either loyal minions, or living on the streets, begging for change,
Around and about the red hotels and green houses dotting the board.
* * * *
If there is that which is called a soul, that divinity which is given countless names, it is
– Equally, indisputably, undeniably, irrevocably, indivisibly, indelibly, unfathomably, ineffably –
The eternal awareness, the eternal absoluteness, the eternal eternity, in all things infinitesimal to infinite.
* * * *
The last vanity in this grand illusion,
Will be right before the last awakening.
Which means, of course, pretty much never.
* * * *
What so many of our species have called religion throughout its migratory walkabout,
Has really been nothing more than obsessive idolatry, fanatical adulation,
Rehashed in every make and model, every cultish derivative,
That imagination can conceivably fabricate.
* * * *
Truth is not light.
Truth is not dark.
Truth is not sound.
Truth is not a concept.
Truth is not a belief system.
Truth is not tainted by dogma.
Truth is not attached to vain idols.
Truth is not possessed by any religion.
Truth is not constrained by space and time.
Truth is not compelled by any quantum creation.
Truth is within each and every unborn-undying moment.
Unfettered by any and all imaginary perceptions.
Discerned only by the dispassionate minds,
Given over to the serene awareness.
Given over to the beingness.
Given over to the here.
Given over to the now.
Given over to eternal life.
The all in one, the one in all.
* * * *
Innocence, ignorance, delusion, absurdity – major components of most any groupthink.
No point getting all bent out of shape, debating with a species sprinting toward oblivion.
Like wresting with a pig in a mudhole – the pig is right at home, grunting away in ecstasy.
* * * *
Whatever it is, You are ‘supposed’ to be doing,
You are already doing this right here, this right now.
Your destiny is unwrapping exactly as was determined,
In that long-before-time roll of the quantum dice.
Call it Genesis, call it Big Bang, same upshot.
* * * *
It is in the unborn-undying, indivisible moment,
In the right here, right now of awareness,
That You discern your perfection.
* * * *
‘Brahman without qualities' is all that is left,
For minds that have deeply delved into this dreamtime illusion.
Anything that promotes duality in this quantum matrix, is delusional – best ignored.
Writings such as these will only rarely be pondered, but their spontaneous creation passes the moment,
Of those whose red-pill destinies, have called them to pass the pipe.
* * * *
What is any monkey-mind, but a crunchy-chewy-gooey bag of nature-nurtured,
Habits, addictions, dependencies, problems, weaknesses, obsessions, and fixations.
Is this pedestrian, space and time continuum existence, really anything more,
Than the mystery of awareness involuntarily playing out whatever role,
The genetic lottery of the quantum matrix has cast centerstage.
* * * *
This frame of reference – of memories, of perceptions, of insights – that You consider your life,
What is it, really, but a prison of imagination, to which the conditioned mind clings.
Aware of it or not, the imaginary you, is merely a temporal dreamtime,
Of the quantum matrix, passing through the ephemeral awareness, You truly are.
* * * *
What a thing to be such a deaf and blind true believer, as to give in to whatever the absurdity,
To such a degree, as to be willing to act out most every possible passion,
Without question, without doubt, without regret.
* * * *
Is suicide really anything more than the eternal spirit,
Deciding it neither needs, nor wants, to imagine anything, anymore.
That it no longer needs nor wants to endure the vain, greedy, often tortured existence.
The spaceless-timeless dream, into which it was involuntarily cast,
By the Great Quantum’s genetic lottery.
* * * *
Every decision You make, every move You make, every breath You take,
Is a process of natural selection that has seamlessly played out,
Since however, whenever, this cosmos began.
Everything is an inseparable element of the eternal process.
Ever unknowable, ever indivisible, ever indelible, ever unborn, ever undying.
It is only consciousness, it is only imagination, that, in every way, slices and dices the quantum pie.
* * * *
You are the cosmos, the cosmos is You.
You are the indivisible, the indivisible is You.
You are the ineffable, the ineffable is You.
You are the immaculate, the immaculate is You.
You are the unfathomable, the unfathomable is You.
You are the indelible, the indelible is You.
You are the unknowable, the unknowable is You.
You are the intangible, the intangible is You.
You are the flawless, the flawless is You.
You are the emptiness, the emptiness is You.
You are the blameless, the blameless is You.
You are the unborn, the unborn is You.
You are the undying, the undying is You.
You are the inexpressible, the inexpressible is You.
You are the indefinable, the indefinable is You.
You are the spaceless, the spaceless is You.
You are the timeless, the timeless is You.
You are the indiscernible, the indiscernible is You.
You are the unutterable, the unutterable is You.
You are the absolute, the absolute is You.
You are the matchless, the matchless is You.
You are the unimaginable, the unimaginable is You.
You are the infinite, the infinite is You.
You are the infinitesimal, the infinitesimal is You.
You are the nothingness, the nothingness is You.
You are the ageless, the ageless is You.
You are the everlasting, the everlasting is You.
You are the aloneness, the aloneness is You.
You are the indefinable, the indefinable is You.
You are the perpetual, the perpetual is You.
You are the nameless, the nameless is You.
You are the impenetrable, the impenetrable is You.
You are the enigmatic, the enigmatic is You.
You are the imperceptible, the imperceptible is You.
You are the oblivion, the oblivion is You.
You are the inscrutable, the inscrutable is You.
You are the indecipherable, the indecipherable is You.
You are the impeccable, the impeccable is You.
You are the unreadable, the unreadable is You.
You are the detached, the detached is You.
You are the unrivaled, the unrivaled is You.
You are the mystery, the mystery is You.
* * * *
All divisions, all boundaries, all demarcations, all discords,
Are born of imagination's inability, of imagination unwillingness,
To distinguish, to recognize, to fathom, to accept, to embrace,
The eternity, through which it seamlessly kaleidoscopes.
That all divisions mean squat to the mystery we are.
* * * *
How long was a day when God took six of them to genesis the cosmos?
Modern science puts it in the neighborhood of 13.8 billion years.
Divided by six would make a day about 2.3 billion years.
And the seventh day to watch the human spawn make a mess of it.
* * * *
Every existence is a kaleidoscoping birth-to-death process.
Unborn, undying, indelible, indivisible, all the while.
Resistance is futile, attachment is meaningless.
None can in any way change their destiny.
None can in any way slow their fate.
All denial, all yearning, all story-telling,
Are but the delusionary harbors of imagination.
Butterflies attached to being caterpillars would never fly.
* * * *
Are You, you, observing the cosmos?
Are You, you, observing eternity?
Or are You eternity, observing You?
Or are You eternity, observing its Self?
Or all of the above, as the dreamtime calls.
* * * *
How is it, the aloneness, the solitude, the sovereignty, the absoluteness,
That is universally, infinitely, infinitesimally, inherent in all,
Is not heralded as the eternal treasure that it is?
* * * *
The all-in-one-one-in-all of the ultimate reality,
Most definitely does not imply all-for-one-one-for-all,
In this very Darwinian world, this very God-eat-God cosmos.
* * * *
This mind-body is not what You are.
This pale blue dot is not what You are.
This entire universe is not what You are.
You are far too infinite, far too infinitesimal,
To be anything, but every quantum of it,
Every unborn-undying speck of it.
And not any of it, all the while,
For You are but awareness.
Witness to the mystery,
You, for all eternity, are,
Have ever been, will ever be.
* * * *
Do not doubt, the prior to consciousness, the prior to quantum, You truly are.
Call it mystery, call it awareness, call it now, call it God, call it what is, call it whatever.
The ocean of sound, saturated with concepts, does not matter, has never mattered, will never matter.
You are That I Am, there is no other, has never been another, will never be another.
* * * *
You already have eternal life, You have always had it, You always will.
It is the distracting nature of imagination that deprives You from seeing it.
All that is required is to let go of everything, to die to the imaginary little self.
Just still that busy-busy mind, and You will discern quite clearly, the Self.
The pure awareness, that You truly are, have ever been, will ever be.
* * * *
The illusional-delusional mind is in an accelerating-exponential sprint to extinction.
You are not required to embrace all the industries, all the technologies,
Driving all the other lemmings into the dystopian shoals.
* * * *
You may have merely done it,
Because You were bored out of your mind.
Creative minds require the sustenance of perpetual change.
A life crammed into the tedium of routine, can be akin to a death sentence.
Is it any wonder so many numb themselves sitting on barstools,
Or end it all, with rocks in the pocket, or a bullet?
* * * *
You are not the earth.
You are not the wind.
You are not the water.
You are not the fire.
You are not the quantum.
You are the ether of awareness,
Through which all things waft like clouds.
* * * *
Who was it, first came up with all the assumptions, all the suppositions,
That there is a meaning, that there is a purpose, to existence?
And that an ethical life, is for some reason virtuous?
All the absurdities imagination hath wrought,
Are like rivers carrying debris from mountain to sea.
The burdens of history, of belief, of tradition, are without end.
* * * *
The predators long ago realized how simple it was,
To beguile and control and fleece the mindless sheeples.
* * * *
Is there some sort of existence after the mind-body falls away?
What point any claim, if You do not really know for your Self?
* * * *
If You have spent your existence embracing absurdity, what makes you so sure,
You will be eligible for one that requires intelligence, rationality, lucidity, generosity?
Do You really believe some deity is going to look at your life, and tip the scales in your favor,
Without your having done the real work required (i.e., meditation, contemplation, miscellaneous other).
* * * *
Many go on and on, about dying and going to heaven,
But not many are jumping up and down to meet their God.
* * * *
How easy to think of space and time, as somehow being distinct, unconnected,
When their actuality is truly an indivisible quantum continuum,
Eternity, separate only in imaginary notion.
Barren fruit of the metaphorical Tree of Knowledge.
Only by realizing eternal awareness, can one return to the garden.
* * * *
In imagination, in the lightness and darkness of your mind,
You can play out any fantasy, angelic to demonic,
And the Thought Police will never know.
* * * *
And if there is some ho-ho-ho Santa Claus God on high,
Peering down, making his lists, and checking them twice,
What is he, really, but just another degenerate Peeping Tom.
* * * *
The ever-changing now is the illusion.
The illusion is the ever-changing now.
The five senses are the ways and means.
The processing brain, the mind, the witness.
* * * *
Physical desires are satisfiable.
But for discipline and principled restraint,
Psychological appetites are prone to running amok.
* * * *
A free mind, an independent mind,
Cannot be forced to submit to absurdity.
Pretend, maybe, feign, maybe, but forced, no.
* * * *
These thoughts wander back and forth,
Between personal and impersonal,
Between here now and oblivion.
Between dreamtime and eternity.
Something for everyone, and no one.
* * * *
All causes are effects, all effects are causes.
All creation is destruction, all destruction is creation.
All beginnings are endings, all endings are beginnings.
The indivisibility of eternity is without distinction.
* * * *
How long is a second?
How long is a minute?
How long is an hour?
How long is a day?
How long is a week?
How long is a month?
How long is a year?
How long is a decade?
How long is a century?
How long is a millennium?
How long is a million years?
How long is a billion years?
How long is a trillion years?
How long is a gazillion years?
* * * *
You have got to be somewhere.
Pretty unlikely it will ever be anywhere,
But this very right here, right now.
* * * *
Outwardly, in this unfathomable, indivisible, quantum dreamtime,
You must generally feign being an identity, while wandering the given stage.
But inwardly, You can be as detached, as indifferent, as free, as your state of mind allows.
The challenge of this razor’s edge, between the perceptible and the imperceptible,
Is transitioning back and forth between the limited and the boundless,
Because all the familiar, conditioned, habituated responses,
Are prone to wiping away all traces of liberation,
At the draw of an inattentive breath,
A blink of the eye eternal.
* * * *
If You were God, what would You do?
How would You use your power, your dominion,
Your omniscience, your omnipotence, your omnipresence,
Over all life forms, small to great, in all the dimensions of your vastness.
How would You not just allow it all naturally-select itself, as it is.
Like dice rolling across the craps table, falling as they will.
And You, solitary witness to it all, for all eternity.
* * * *
In this ever-kaleidoscoping, spaceless, timeless, eternal moment,
You are that which is supreme, absolute, that which is God.
The dogmatic memory of which, is the fall from grace,
That got us metaphorically kicked out of the garden,
When imagination picked the fruit of knowledge,
That has led to the quagmire we have created.
Stop sucking and chewing on that all the time,
And You might restore at least a taste of the grace.
* * * *
Light requires an eye to be seen.
Sound requires an ear to be heard.
Flavor requires a tongue to be tasted.
Touch requires an epidermis to be felt.
Fragrance requires a nose to be smelled.
Thought requires a brain to be formulated.
And in a mind, a world, a cosmos, is created.
* * * *
Who does not project their world, their cosmos,
Their beliefs, their values, their conditioning,
Their habituation, their frame of reference,
On everyone they meet, on everything they do.
* * * *
Whether it is a one-time existence, or a string of incarnations,
The ultimate picture always boils down to the indelible truth,
That You are the source, You are the mystery, of everything.
* * * *
So many things You might have done differently.
But then, your destiny would not be the one,
You were dealt, way back in genesis.
* * * *
Yes, Virginia, there is a supreme beingness,
And You are, in no way or shape or form, separate from it.
Which means, of course, that You are it, have ever been it, will ever be it.
No, not some old bearded guy, keeping naughty-nice lists,
Throwing down thunderbolts from on-high.
* * * *
In the great dice throw of Genesis,
It was inevitable that Mother Nature,
Would eventually roll out a cancer,
That had the capacity and wit,
To consume, to destroy,
Anything and everything.
* * * *
You really believe your paltry little noggin,
Can comprehend, can wrap that wee head around,
All the potential possibilities, in this ineffable mystery?
That You have any say, what the source, can and cannot do?
Seriously?
* * * *
In the grand play of consciousness,
You are as young as the day You were born.
All time in the mind is the illusion born of five senses,
And the endless imaginary ruminations of a central processing unit,
Of a neuron matrix, set in motion by the mystery of eternity,
In a moment, not separate in any way, from this one.
* * * *
Of course, there is one God, one upwelling, call it what You will,
And we, and all creatures small to great, are all equally of it.
All life is its eyes and ears, and whatever sensory readers,
It has created in the long and winding, one-step-at-a-time road,
Of evolution’s natural selections, in its inexplicable march of illusion.
* * * *
It all boils down to this singular moment.
The eternal awareness, in all its ethereal emptiness,
Witnessing the space-time continuum, kaleidoscoping through it.
The grand illusion of the quantum matrix, playing out in your imaginary mind.
* * * *
It is up to You to figure out your world, your cosmos,
All alone, as best You can, using whatever means are available.
And will it matter to some supreme being?
Not in the least.
* * * *
A significant truth about consciousness, about imagination,
Is that what seems so clearly obvious to one mind,
May make absolutely no sense in another.
Which proves beyond all doubt,
That the ultimate truth,
Is not in any way subordinate,
To the whims of any frame of reference.
* * * *
History is always spun anew,
By all the agendas of all the mindsets,
Wrestling to get their version stuck on the wall.
* * * *
How can any free mind be subject,
To any label,
To any tag,
To any brand,
To any description,
To any categorization?
* * * *
The momentary eternal existence, that all lives, all dreamtimes, are,
Which none can ever truly hold onto as more than memory,
Is but a temporal bag of every variety of absurdity,
Founded on teeny-tiny bits-and-pieces of fabricated knowledge,
Gleaned haphazardly, from what seems in the moment, a spontaneous passing,
But has been, in fact, the written-in-the-sands destiny of all, since this cosmos was unleashed.
* * * *
You are the sum total, the aggregate, the entirety, the full monty,
Of your branch, your line, your strand, your thread, of humankind’s DNA,
Playing out the naturally-selected, nature-nurture, of its kaleidoscoping dreamtimes,
Since life’s genesis back in the quantum mystery of the earth’s antiquity.
And if you have perchance passed on your genomic blueprint,
Your future progeny will experience their version,
In their little imaginary window of mind.
As close to immortality, as life can ever get.
* * * *
The ancient minds of Gaia’s garden,
Endured in the immediacy of the cycles of nature.
Civilization, the gathering of knowledge, the advent of technology,
Placed imaginary notion at the forefront, and thus magnified the fall from grace,
To a point, where effortless simplicity was lost and forgotten, replaced by bewildering complexity.
The stormy tides of which, the future past is already paying an uncharitable price.
* * * *
You are what I think You are, and I am what You think I am.
We are all dreamers of the same quantum mystery,
Playing out an illusory dreamtime,
All very much alone.
* * * *
* * * *
It be You, and You be it.
No direction known.
For all eternity.
* * * *
Cultures encourage their sheeples to feel lonely, confused, fearful,
So that they will fully participate, fully support, fully align, fully embrace,
The specified mindset, the specified groupthink, of its mythological underpinning.
How else would any tribe, any tradition, any custom, any institution,
Maintain its monopoly, its stranglehold, on the future?
* * * *
The many advocates, the many caricatures,
Of ignorance, of obliviousness, of witlessness,
Have no notion how aligned they are with eternity.
* * * *
Maya will create every variety of mask,
Until You reckon with them all, each and every one,
As the one and only faceless mystery, indivisibly, eternally absolute.
* * * *
What would it be like to never be bothered or concerned,
With another momentary thought of your imaginary little self again?
All You need do, is stop imagining, stop inventing, stop concocting, stop visualizing,
All that You – playact, pretend, make-believe, fantasize, assume – You are.
* * * *
Observe the universe.
Observe the world.
Observe the observer.
Observe the observer, observing.
How is the dreamtime of the indivisibility possible,
Without the pure awareness, You truly are,
Imagining it all real and true.
* * * *
To believe You are the source of original sin,
Is the concoction of priesthoods, bent on control, to their own ends.
A false notion, for which You need feel, neither guilt nor shame nor remorse nor culpability.
* * * *
Freedom is not something remembered.
It is a state of mind, given over to awareness, given over to the eternal moment.
A state unburdened by imaginary notion.
* * * *
Thinkers break apart the cosmos,
For the sake of knowledge and understanding,
But reality in the day-to-day mundane, sanctions no division,
For none truly exist as more than imaginary notion.
* * * *
The You, that You think You are, believe You are,
Is the passionate mind, the mind of consciousness, the mind of imagination,
Weaving its delusions into an ofttimes vexing reality.
* * * *
You have been – conditioned, shaped, trained, seasoned, acclimatized,
Habituated, prepared, inured, hardened – genetically and socially,
To be concerned, what others may or may not think of You.
Up to now, this has often tortured You in many ways.
So, the question is, can You function agelessly,
Without the travail, such nature-nurtured thoughts bring?
* * * *
Path? What path?
You mean that step, that moves on, that disappears,
As soon as it is taken?
* * * *
Despite all science fiction to the contrary,
That crunchy-chewy-gooey cadaver,
From which You every twinkling gaze out,
Is the only time machine, You are ever going to ride.
* * * *
Current events are never truly current, merely effects of causes and causes of effects.
Memory creates dreamtime history, and the freedom the moment allows,
Is ignored and pilloried by the masses, so easily hypnotized,
By imagination’s near-infinite array of circuses and sideshows.
* * * *
The infant, a sponge of its sensory feed,
Observes from the tabula rasa of eternal awareness,
As its given environment’s ambiance, imprints upon its brain,
A subjective framework, to which it will subscribe,
For the remainder of its secular dreamtime.
* * * *
Everything is the design of illusion.
How eternally alone, You truly are.
* * * *
Death is merely the end of consciousness, the end of imagination.
It is the irrevocable forfeit, to that which this quantum illusion has all along been.
To the mystery of all mysteries, which the mind-body, can never touch, can never own, only reflect.
* * * *
There must be a Self-absorbed inclination for introspection,
To meander alone down the pathless less traveled.
It requires a great deal of contemplation,
A great deal of meditation.
It is not for all.
* * * *
That psychic barrier that bars You from this or that,
Is nothing more than the airless poof of imagination.
* * * *
These many thoughts are a tangle of concepts, molded into sounds,
About an eternity, concepts molded into sounds, can never pierce.
* * * *
Do You really believe your deity of choice,
Is as vain, as jealous, as petty, as shallow, as cruel,
As passionately, irrationally, foolishly attached, as You are?
How can anyone worship, idolize, bow and scrape, to such absurdity?
* * * *
Every moment, You are gaining.
Every moment, You are losing.
There is nothing to hold on to.
What point, suffering for it?
* * * *
How many stories could be composed, by anyone, by everyone, at any point, in this dreamtime.
Is the human mind, is the human experience, is consciousness, is imagination,
Really anything more, than a long and winding narrative?
* * * *
Wander to the edge of the cosmos, and beyond that still.
What limits are there to a mind given over to awareness?
* * * *
Every life form has a twinkling, of awareness, of intelligence, that gets it through the given moment.
A twinkling that plays its little part, with all the other little parts, in this kaleidoscoping quantum matrix.
Intelligent design does not require the dualistic deity, so many dogmas would have You imagine.
Awareness is the supreme deity, and it is in everything that this ineffable mystery entails.
* * * *
If You truly have the faith of knowing that which You are,
You will not need to pray, nor will You need to plead for forgiveness.
You will need not do anything, except live out this existence.
To surrender to your destiny, as You already do.
* * * *
The pharisees tortured and killed Jesus once, and no doubt would again.
Rarely a good notion to challenge the powers that be – whatever their thing –
And not expect them to lash out, in whatever ways and means, they deem necessary.
And history has paid ever since, for the martyrdom, with which his vanity cursed the world.
* * * *
That same ethereal You, that same awareness, that same mystery,
That same unborn-undying, very right-here-right-now, ineffable moment,
Is within and without everything crashing upon the farthest shores,
Of the infinite-infinitesimal, prior to and beyond imaginable.
* * * *
The eternally damned, are those who wander the heavens and purgatories, of space and time,
Through which they indivisibly, timelessly kaleidoscope, ever-present,
Beckoned on and on, by the myriad others,
Only too willing, only too able, to share their hellish fates.
* * * *
What is personality, what is character,
But a conditioned frame of reference,
Born of the genetic and cultural blend,
Born of the nature-nurture circumstance.
How can anyone believe their fate,
Was not in-the-sands scripted,
Prior to all beginnings.
* * * *
The mind unfettered by chatter – the no-mind, the eternal mind –
Is the only mind, that is one with the mystery of the space-time continuum,
One with the unborn-undying, right-here-right-now, unfathomably ineffable moment.
How You can ever be anything less, how You can ever be anything more,
Is for imagination, to ever and ever and ever, spin its wheels.
* * * *
The mystery of the space-time continuum,
The mystery of the electromagnetic spectrum,
Has everything to offer, has nothing to offer.
* * * *
All creatures, small to great, participate in this dreamtime play of awareness,
In whatever fashion the moment’s natural selection and nature-nurture is taking them.
Our kind’s shortsighted approach to all our fellow earthlings, has wreaked havoc upon the diversity.
We have sculpted our own destiny, in the way we mindlessly chose,
To shape the fate of the world.
* * * *
Many if not most people, in this conflict-ridden world,
Would likely be more than content to have peaceful, simple lives.
A relatively small, but incorrigible handful, for many reasons, in many ways,
Seem set on making that, an ever more arduous – accelerating-exponential – proposition.
* * * *
Your imaginary consciousness, will be drawn to the destiny,
That your desires, your fears, your dreads, your passions, will into dreamtime.
To what end, You as eternal witness, will have no say, whatsoever.
* * * *
There is a tendency to think of eternity,
As something involving space and time as we discern it,
But any foreverness, is only another illusory trick of the time-bound mind,
Ever entangled in its own web of imagined continuity.
* * * *
You will one day be washed back into the emptiness, into the absoluteness, of eternity,
As a spent wave – its pummeling might, discharged – is drawn back to the sea.
But the mystery ceaselessly sends, new waves upon its infinite shore,
Upon which the quantum matrix plays out its eternal dance,
Of hide-and-seek, in the space and time illusion.
The You that You truly are, is all of it,
And none of it, all the while.
* * * *
At some point of realization in your awakening,
No one has any sway over your mind,
But those You allow entry.
You can never die,
But mind can ever be undone,
Again and again, well over ten thousand ways.
* * * *
Those who somehow survive the accelerating-exponential of all our industry and technology,
May well look back at this epoch, and find it difficult, to not often shake their heads,
At our time’s unutterable – disregard, neglect, indifference –for their time.
* * * *
To plot revenge upon progeny,
Of someone your grandfather hated,
To cling to the ceaseless niggling grudges,
Blood feuds, and venomous wars of our ancestors,
Is such limited fare in this dreamtime feast.
Will You ever see your truest nature,
And participate in this mystery,
Without imagination’s rule?
* * * *
Release the memories, release the projections, release the hopes,
Your destiny is whoever-whatever-whenever-wherever-whyever-however,
This very right-here-right-now eternal moment, is kaleidoscoping.
* * * *
There is an all but infinite cosmos,
Simultaneously kaleidoscoping the moment.
And we, for all practical purpose, microbial castaways,
On one of its infinitesimally insignificant dust balls,
In an infinitesimally insignificant solar system.
In an infinitesimally insignificant galaxy.
Only vanity, playing ourselves more.
* * * *
Regarding death, how can any life form depart,
When what it truly is, has always been, will ever be.
There are no individual souls, only the indivisible Soul.
A mystery, none can more than find peace, in merely being.
* * * *
Many are called.
Few are chosen.
Fewer still, volunteer.
Even fewer swallow the red pill.
* * * *
What do deities and angels and demons have, over or under You?
Absolutely, irrevocably, without any doubt, whatsoever, nothing.
* * * *
The ending of desire washes away all fear, washes away all dread.
To want absolutely nothing from this dreamtime,
Is to be, as free as free can be.
* * * *
How – senseless, pointless, futile – it all truly is.
Nothing more than vanity and greed.
Narcissism and hedonism.
Unleashed.
* * * *
Hope is the outcome of idealism,
Unreconciled with reality,
Mired in delusion.
* * * *
Back in the jungles and savannas, long before time,
Our ancestors, those to whom we are progeny …
Had no language.
Had no stories.
Had no songs.
Had no clothing.
Had no fire.
Had no tools.
Had no weapons.
Had no musical instruments.
Had no homes.
Had no kitchens.
Had no beds.
Had no chairs.
Had no toilets.
Had no utensils.
Had no running water.
Had no domesticated plants.
Had no domesticated animals.
Had no vehicles.
Had no cosmetics.
Had no metals.
Had no electronics.
Had no plastics.
Had no explosives.
Had no deities,
Had no flags.
They sat there, amid their small roving band, each, very much alone.
Hunter-gatherers, wandering their turf, eating whatever the geography offered.
Doing whatever they had to do, doing whatever they could do, to survive the given day.
Until the first sparking of imagination, began its long and winding evolution,
To wherever You are reading this, in a world we take for granted.
A world founded by large brain size, reduced body hair, lungs and sweat glands,
Opposable thumbs, facial structure, language, abstract reasoning, problem-solving skills,
Theory of mind, self-awareness, moral reasoning, complex social structures,
Tool making and usage, bipedalism, and Darwinian savagery.
* * * *
Inevitably, there will someday be just one remaining human being, totally alone.
The last of a genetic lineage, the last witness to imagination.
Where then, will all our history be?
* * * *
What is enlightenment, what is liberation,
But discerning that there is only one grand mystery,
And its creator is creating simultaneously within all creation.