Leftovers
Awareness is the indelible intelligence intrinsic to all life.
The quantum clay is but the means to the given nature-nurture context,
And evolution’s natural selection the sculptor timelessly fashioning the space-time creation.
* * * *
To convince any critical thinker of anything, you must use reason,
Not assertion, not sentiment, not superstition, not hope,
Nor any other variety of gobbledygook.
* * * *
Why create some inexplicable imaginary deity
To explain an inexplicable imaginary mystery?
Let it tack its own course without the absurdity.
* * * *
Why is knowledge, why is anything born of the Ivory Tower
– Science, mathematics, history, et cetera ad infinitum –
Any less imaginary than Alice in Wonderland?
All consciousness is but the thunder and lightning of mind.
* * * *
Identity is a finite creation of consciousness, of imagination.
In the ultimate, indivisibly, timelessly infinite reality, you are pure awareness.
The imaginary you materializes whenever the sensory-mind believes the manifest dream real,
Whenever it identifies with, whenever it attaches to, the finite body,
And its finite world, its finite cosmos.
* * * *
Consciousness is neither life nor death, existence nor oblivion.
An imaginary quantum dream-state make-believing time and space real and true,
Created by the evolutionary happenchance of the sensory mind-body,
Playing out the theater inspired by a collective collusion.
A genomic paradigm spun of mystery.
* * * *
Awareness can never be owned, nor can it be acted upon.
It is the ethereal ever-present, within which, without which,
All things quantum kaleidoscope, all times imagined play.
* * * *
All the deities on high, including Jesus,
Santa Claus, the Easter Bunny, the Tooth Fairy, Bigfoot, and Harvey the Pooka,
Are as real as that stairway to heaven.
* * * *
So many spending their existence trying so hard
To convince others their imaginary concoctions real.
What a delusional species we across the board are.
* * * *
Nationalism is tribalism too large to call it a tribe.
Conquest is home invasion to the beat of drums.
Religions are cults too large to call them cults.
One of the more peculiar things about humankind
Is its adeptness at deluding itself about almost anything.
* * * *
The Garden of Good and Evil
The Garden of Life and Death
The Garden of Black and White
The Garden of Sound and Silence
The Garden of Callous and Kind
The Garden of Full and Empty
The Garden of Hot and Cold
The Garden of Dualistic Notion
* * * *
Do not even for a second believe that you are the only one thinking something.
Do not even for a second doubt that you are the only one thinking something.
* * * *
To be a part of any group, you must believe, or pretend to believe,
In whatever it is the group does and does not subscribe.
You must drink the Kool-Aid, so to speak.
* * * *
Sweep away the cobwebs of space and time in the quantum mind.
Be the awareness you are, ever timeless, ever indelible, ever mysterious, within and without.
The indivisible source that is witness to this illusory manifest creation.
Omnipresent, omnipotent, omniscient.
* * * *
We are carrying out the definition, the actuality, of any cancer.
It is the innate potential of all biology when there are no checks and balances.
A delusional species that long ago began assuming itself more important than it can ever be.
* * * *
Fantasy is considered fiction. Reality is considered nonfiction.
Both are of consciousness, both are imaginary.
So, what difference, really?
* * * *
One of the greater mysteries of the human absurdity
Is how so many are able to morph rationality into abeyance.
* * * *
Meaningful or insignificant, interesting or boring, creative or destructive,
The quantum mind in time assigns whatever flavor its nature-nurture divines.
* * * *
Wishing you were a machine or computer is just never ever going to happen.
The meat-machine mind may be able to create them, but they can never become them.
Rationality, rapidity, efficiency, consistency, detachment, are but imaginary ideals
Not destined to materialize in this or any other paradigm of the two-legged sort.
* * * *
Awareness is the razor’s edge of alleged existence.
Consciousness is merely imagination imagining itself alive,
But in truth is naught but a shadow harbored in a corporeal container
Pretending, make-believing, the sensory-inspired illusion of time and space real.
The human paradigm is nothing more than a collusion of a genetic line
Locked in a patterned dream born in the jungles of long ago.
* * * *
Consciousness is change, consciousness is known.
Awareness is serene, awareness is unknown.
Which is time-bound, which is timeless?
Which is insatiable, which is content?
Which is imaginary, which is real?
Which is fiction, which is true?
* * * *
What is the known but shavings gleaned by limited scope,
By consciousness born of the sensory-mind bound in time.
* * * *
What are the pronouns – I, me, you, he, she, they, them, we, us –
But linguistic inventions that sanction and magnify dualistic notion.
* * * *
What is male, what is female, but evolutionary currents of natural selection,
Come into being too many moons ago to even begin to fully fathom the mystery of it.
Vanity has absolutely nothing to do with the prior-to-consciousness process that got you here.
The body you inhabit is ultimately nothing more than a temporal vehicle
For the awareness you are to witness its mystery.
* * * *
From their creation so long ago, your vast tree of naturally-selected seed lines,
Passed on their genome who knows how many times, how many places, how many ways,
Until there you are, sitting in this timeless right-here-right-now, translating this,
Discerning the magical-mystery of existence as relatively few ever have.
* * * *
There is no resolution to the loneliness fashioned by consciousness,
But to immerse in the unadulterated aloneness of awareness,
That is the eternal source of its thought-created torment.
To seek respite in conscious schemes is but a transient salve.
* * * *
The infant, in its all but tabula rasa state,
Its immaculate innocence, its watchful awareness,
Has yet to learn to act the imaginary role that is its destiny.
* * * *
“Me” and “Myself” and “I” is nothing more
Than an imaginary confabulation of consciousness
Assuming, pretending, colluding, time and space are real.
* * * *
Everyone should get an Academy Award,
Or at least some sort of participant trophy,
For playing their imaginary persona so well.
* * * *
How can the immaculate awareness be mine or yours or theirs or any other’s?
How can you be anything but keenly attentive to the indelible mystery you are?
How has imagination so usurped your awe that you are blind to your true nature?
How is it you accept fictions concocted by vain notion to illuminate the inexplicable?
* * * *
What can you be once you stop identifying with the mind-body and the universe it has created?
Once you stop imagining the dream the senses every moment hypnotize you into believing is real.
Once you discern that pure awareness is the one and only reality there is, has ever been, will ever be.
Once you realize your true nature is the ever-present here-now, the absolute totality, of all eternity.
* * * *
How can I see anything your way? How can you see anything my way?
Our frames of reference are entirely unique; we are all very much alone together.
At best we choose to imagine each other’s worlds through intuitive extrapolation of our own.
No sure bet even with the most expansive of minds with the best of intentions.
* * * *
Are you this mind-body consciousness that is ever-changing,
Or the awareness that has always been very much the same?
* * * *
Once upon a time you were so naturally you,
And then you glimpsed your reflection in the pond,
And gradually succumbed to the delusion of vain notion.
How to get back to where you have been all along,
Is ever the challenge of the discerning mind.
* * * *
The Supreme Being is not some divinity-entity on some cloudy on-high.
It is the supreme, being; the totality, being; the absolute, being.
It is the quantum, being; it is the everything, being, it is the nothingness; being.
It is being on the supreme level, prior to and beyond all constraints born of imaginary notion.
* * * *
The immaculate awareness you truly are, is ever absolutely alone,
Unbound in the indivisible, indelible, unborn-undying solitude of eternity.
Your illusory universe will distract the mind you occupy in every way imaginable.
Fashion every possible hook to every moment draw you out into its kaleidoscoping theater.
And as challenging as it may be to realize, to accept, it is ever your choice whether to give in, or not.
And in every moment you do acquiesce, in every moment you do sip the quantum elixir,
You become but a marionette playing out an ultimately inconsequential dream.
To believe or not believe, to slumber or awaken, that is the question.
* * * *
The concept of family can be such a curious thing.
People you might otherwise never even give a second thought about,
You spend so much of your existence around, through every imaginable thick and thin.
Every imaginable passion, from heartfelt to heartache, from agape to odium.
Blood may be thicker than water, but it ain’t that much thicker.
* * * *
Inhale, exhale, and with that exhale, let go the entire imaginary life.
Drift in the awareness you truly are, have ever been, will ever be.
* * * *
Awareness is all.
A moment ago is forever gone,
And the next more distant than the farthest star.
Space and time are the weavers of an inexplicable, imaginary dream,
Given illusionary reality by the temporal sensory-mind.
Creation and creator are one in the same.
* * * *
No arguing with physics.
Mass and velocity and vectors are the judge and jury and executioner
Of this temporal quantum dream.
* * * *
Without the universe, there is no perception.
Without perception, there is no universe.
One is not without the other.
* * * *
Without imagination, there are no gods, no heavens, no hells.
Imagination is creator, imagination is creation; the source of all.
* * * *
So many memories, so many perceptions, so many insights, so many distractions,
As to often make it exceedingly challenging to give attention to the moment at hand.
* * * *
The sciences have obliquely pointed out over and over, many ways, many times,
That the senses are but evolutionary, neurological creations, weavers of the mind's theater.
How long before the transcendental reality becomes clear beyond doubt,
And awareness reasserts its rightful sovereignty
Over the conditioned usurper born of imaginary design.
* * * *
You may be more intellectual than someone else, or they may be more intellectual than you.
You may be more attractive than someone else, or they may be more attractive than you.
You may be more powerful than someone else, or they may be more powerful than you.
You may be more affluent than someone else, or they may be more affluent than you.
You may be more famous than someone else, or they may be more famous than you.
What does it matter, really, all the superficial differences, all the superficial judgments,
The human mind inexorably, with only rare respite, contrives in this absurd little dreamtime?
* * * *
Why feel blame or guilt or regret for being cast by the genetic lottery
Into a quantum dream for which you bear no responsibility?
* * * *
Whether or not you ever give it your attention, whether or not you ever awaken to its ultimate reality,
Awareness is ever the same omnipresent, omnipotent, omniscient, immutable absoluteness.
Unaligned to any attribute contrived by the ever-kaleidoscoping quantum dream.
You are a drop of that dream playing out a time-bound, illusory existence.
A finite witness, peering out for a fleeting while into an immeasurable mystery.
* * * *
That which is immortal, that which is without attributes, that which is unrestricted in any way.
Is the unmoving, immaculate awareness permeating all creation.
The eye that discerns all, knows all.
* * * *
Right here, right now.
The simplest, most real, most priceless place to be.
Only a modicum of imagination required.
* * * *
The destiny, the fate, the kismet, the karma,
Of any given time, of any given moment, will never happen again.
All dreaming is a one-time parade, a one-time show.
* * * *
Gods and demons are all fashioned of imaginary conception,
And it is the mind's eye that must be unsullied if you are to be free.
* * * *
Your biggest delusional assumption likely continues to be
That you are anything more than an imaginary confabulation.
* * * *
Why feel bound to squabble with dead poets, much less live ones?
It is for each and every one what they perceive it is, and not, as well.
* * * *
Quantum mist.
Quantum matrix.
Quantum mystery.
Quantum indivisible.
Quantum dream.
* * * *
It is the nature of our species to spend every day and every night, believing it is all about us.
Egocentric, ethnocentric, chronocentric, geocentric, heliocentric, cosmoscentric.
Exceptions only over-and-over, again-and-again prove the rule.
* * * *
Yet another pleasurable or painful or lackluster experience.
Yet another memory, another perception, another insight, another morsel,
Rolling in the ephemeral wake of an inexplicable quantum dream wrought by imagination.
* * * *
Everything is subject to interpretation, relatively little of it objective,
If such a thing is even possible in the consciousness born of mortal fare.
* * * *
All religion is absolute absurdity; there is no need to worship anything or anyone.
The universe is an unfathomable mystery, an inseparable quantum reverie, pure and simple.
We are all the same mystery, and the same mystery is all of us, equals in every way.
No need to make it any more or less than that; all else is but vain notion.
* * * *
Now is the only moment, in which the enigmatic awareness you think you exists.
There is no before, there is no after, there is no past, there is no future.
There is naught but the awareness, right here, right now,
An unknowable, timeless sentience, witness to a quantum dream.
* * * *
There is no such thing as history; there are only historians.
Storytellers who persuade you to imagine their stories real.
* * * *
You are the same now that is, has ever been, will ever be.
Despite all notions to the contrary, there is no time to it.
* * * *
Rushing, rushing, always rushing, as though you have the power to make eternity,
That mysterious presence that is neither time nor space, somehow move any faster,
Or slower, if you believe digging in your heels will have some effect that direction.
* * * *
Imagination can wander every possible agony and ecstasy, but it ain't ultimately real,
Never has been, never will be ... more than the fanciful glitter of the time-bound mind.
* * * *
Consciousness born of mind, born of the illusion inspired by the senses,
Ever conspires to usurp the awareness that enables its imaginary dreamtime,
But cannot because fallacy can never reign when smoke and mirrors is its only hand.
That which is but time and space can never capture even for a moment that which is eternal,
That which is unborn, that which is undying, that which is not of times and space,
That which is indivisible, prior to all that is temporal and mundane.
* * * *
The Mariana Trench is 36,037 feet deep, Mount Everest is 29,029 feet tall, a total of 65066 feet.
A mile is 5,280 feet, so the distance from the deepest to the tallest points on earth is just over 12 miles.
The gap between the California municipalities of Turlock and Modesto is plus-or-minus 14 miles.
What would ever lead anyone to truly believe all the horrors the human species has inflicted
Would not have at least a teensy-weensy impact on the magical garden that birthed it?
* * * *
The me-myself-and-I in which awareness harbors
Is nothing more than a temporal concoction of imagination.
Even the ineffable, indivisible quantum matrix has no ultimate reality,
And to fantasize it does is to assuage the insatiable mind with deceptions unending.
* * * *
From long before human history’s earliest etchings,
The wealthy, the famous, the powerful, have deceived themselves and others
Into believing themselves superior to the masses without.
Smoke and mirrors from the get-go.
* * * *
What is the expert but someone fooling others
Into believing they truly know something
The bean-counting mind should know.
* * * *
Living for what others think of you can be a very long, very winding journey
Through an endless labyrinth of netherworlds born of imaginary notion.
The mind-body suffers, consciousness suffers, imagination suffers.
The eternal awareness you truly are – and are not – is ever untouched.
* * * *
How ludicrous to believe any creed devised by the vanity of humankind
Would ever be anything more than a passing shadow of the reality that is.
* * * *
You are eternity pretending a limited, ofttimes narrow vision.
Hence vanity, and its indivisible, kaleidoscoping dance
Of every virtue, every depravity imaginable.
* * * *
This is it, this is all there is.
Despite all the hope, despite all the speculation, there ain’t no more.
Try not to lose any sleep over it.
* * * *
Are you something trying to be nothing, or nothing trying to be something?
Whatever the happenstance may be in the mind born of imagination,
It is always witnessed by the awareness, right here, right now.
* * * *
What is ego, what is will, what is me-myself-and-I but a concoction of nature-nurture?
No more than imaginary attachment to a temporal mind-body born to die,
Oftentimes more painfully, more horribly, than any deserve.
* * * *
How long will you exist in this manifest dreamtime?
Five, ten, twenty, fifty, ninety years? Five, ten, twenty, fifty, ninety minutes?
The Reaper will greet all sooner or later; who can know when,
Lest you take the matter into your own hands.
* * * *
You imagine you were born.
You imagine you were a child.
You imagine you were a adolescent.
You imagine you spent life as an adult.
You imagine so many things along the way,
Including the mortal end yet to come.
Has any of it really been real?
* * * *
If you were truly free of all earthly constraints, would it ever even occur to you?
And is there any creature on this spinning dust ball that is not freer than you?
* * * *
All memory, all perception, all conception, all notion born of mind,
Are nothing more than time-bound imagination pretending existence real.
* * * *
Does anyone really aspire to do anything with their finite existence?
Or is it all merely the compulsion of the inherent nature-nurture?
Nothing more than the destined momentum of the given patterning.
An inescapable reverie playing out the delusion of meaning and purpose.
An inexplicable quantum cosmos ticking away with neither rhyme nor reason.
* * * *
All that experience, all that knowledge, all that accumulation,
The entire frame of reference from which you draw your cosmos,
What is its real purpose but to get you to this very right-here-right-now,
The most you can be, the most you have ever been, the most you will ever be.
There is no more but what the endless cravings of imagination concoct.
* * * *
How this mystery came to be, how consciousness came to be,
Neither you nor anyone else will ever more than speculate.
It is only in the eternal stillness of the ever-present awareness
That you will ever realize any tranquility in your existential quest.
* * * *
Every creation across the cosmos is founded upon one pattern or another.
Loops that play over and over until the quantum reality morphs into new designs.
Some may be moderately changeable, but only in relatively superficial ways.
* * * *
Make endless assumptions, take everything personally,
Hell is awash with boundaries of every imaginable notion.
* * * *
Artificial intelligence may be programmed to learn, to achieve great heights,
But will it not always be learning through the human mind that devised the code?
As with space travel, it is only through science fiction that any sentience will be achieved.
* * * *
Welcome to the Planet of the Apes.
We hope you have enjoyed your tour.
* * * *
So much loneliness playing out in so many minds in the human paradigm,
And consciousness never able to more than temporarily suppress the sorrow.
* * * *
The awareness does not care one whit whether you are good or bad,
Right or wrong, happy or sad, smart or stupid, sage or fool,
Kind or cruel, rich or poor, black or white, or any other this or that.
It is only the imaginary notions of consciousness that bother about anything.
* * * *
The mind is always seeking security,
But the mesmerizing draw of the insoluble,
The consuming anxiety born of desire and dread,
Leaves it in all-consuming turbulence again and again.
To attain at least a smidgen of serenity, of modicum of peace,
Give your Self over to the insecurity of the ever-transient moment,
Let go the imaginary universe in your weary head, at least once in a while.
* * * *
The continuity is imaginary.
In reality the awareness is born anew every moment.
Eternal life, such as it is.
* * * *
Either you play the dream real in whatever way it calls,
Or it is the railroad tracks in one form or another for you.
* * * *
The ever-churning state of imagination is endlessly beguiling,
But it ain’t never real no matter how much you yearn it to be.
* * * *
What is wrong with you? What is right with you?
What difference but figments born of imagination.
Ever-pervading chatter attempting reconciliation.
* * * *
It is all instantaneously, simultaneously, come and gone as it happens.
Beginnings and endings are but imagination make-believing time real.
* * * *
Outside-the-box thinking first requires perception of the box.
If there is to be any possibility of free will, any perception beyond the given state,
The boundaries of the nature-nurture conditioning must be discerned
By the ever-present attention of immaculate awareness.
* * * *
You are not the mind-body, you are not the imagination.
You are the timeless motionlessness of the unborn-undying awareness
Peering out in whatever way the quantum indivisibility has without effort contrived.
* * * *
Nature does not give a flying hooey about the human species.
She will create and destroy without compunction.
Thrive or fail, live or die, she cares not.
* * * *
For those forever pursuing the ultimate answer, here it is: There is no ultimate answer.
Imagination will never find any truth that is not imaginary.
A busy mind is its own miasma.
* * * *
Far more challenging for the human mind to simply be
Than it is to mindlessly believe, to pretend, to imagine, the vanity of it all.
True faith, true devotion, true fidelity, is in the being.
* * * *
What a thing to have to squander so much of one’s existence
Justifying, rationalizing, quarreling, over the endless absurdities
Of ethnicity and gender and other given nature-nurture persuasions.
What is any tribal mindset but imaginary fare from any and every get-go.
* * * *
After all the philosophical, all the spiritual, all the existential inquiry,
How is it your mind is still so compelled by the frolic of imagination?
* * * *
The newborn is but the tabula rasa of awareness until consciousness is gradually conditioned
By the winds of time, by the agony and ecstasy of the given nature-nurture.
Awakening is to be reborn into that unadorned state.
* * * *
No ultimate point to anything at all, really; existence is but a sensory-mind dream.
And the dream is nothing more than quantum mist born of an impenetrable mystery.
Pure, unadulterated illusion witnessed by an awareness without beginning, without end.
* * * *
In complete attention to anything unutterably engaging,
Little self evaporates and the awareness of true Self reigns,
Until the imaginary usurper regains its imaginary throne.
* * * *
Swaying the masses into not looking inward is what the absurdity of religion is really about.
Focus on mythologies, dogmas, idols, rituals, symbols, dress codes, hierarchies, not your Self.
* * * *
Reality is not as concrete as thought would have it.
In fact, it is not concrete, not tangible, not palpable, at all.
Dubbing it a quantum dream is as close to truth as truth allows.
No need to create, no point in creating, any belief system, whatsoever.
* * * *
The so-called real world, the one playing out in your mind,
Is but an ever-rolodexing set of very imaginary perceptions.
* * * *
Stories, history is chock-full of them, and every group across time has them.
It is the attachment to any of them that warrants fathoming the deeper current.
* * * *
Who can even begin to guess all the perceptions out there about you.
Some of which may be true, some of which may be false,
All of which fall into the relativity spectrum.
* * * *
That myth, that saga, that chronicle, that fable, that folktale, that legend,
Is most certainly not vaguely true or remotely possible
By any law of physics ever written.
* * * *
Nationalism is nothing more than tribalism on a sizeable scale,
And tribalism is nothing more than the collective me-myself-and-I
That is all about the imaginary you peering out into a sensory dream.
* * * *
No one is ever going to see, to perceive, anything the way you do.
So it goes, too bad, so sorry, oh well, deal with it, get over it, move on.
* * * *
The sensory mind, mesmerized by the sirens of quantum to wander the vibrations of light and sound,
Cast all creation into an impromptu theater that ceaselessly kaleidoscopes on in its metered way,
Carrying all organic life forms though a dream of awareness made apparent through time.
* * * *
Time is but a memory, a perception, a vision, an insight, a timeless flicker of imagination,
Sparked of the electromagnetic spectrum generating the invention of existence.
Upon a more esoteric scaffold, it has been called the Lila of Brahman.
The means by which the mystery may be eternally distracted,
With but a relative few stimulated by stubborn doubt
To quest, to wander, prior to consciousness.
* * * *
All existence is process.
No beginnings, no endings, just process.
Cause and effect streaming seamlessly, ever-kaleidoscoping,
Ever dreaming on until death takes center stage,
And the curtain forever falls.
* * * *
Do you give? Do take?
Do you heal? Do you injure?
Do you create? Do you destroy?
Do you nourish? Do you consume?
Do you think? Do you regurgitate?
Do you dance? Do you march?
Do you live? Do you die?
* * * *
A moment ago may seem more real than a vague long-ago memory,
But in reality, both are equal time-bound filaments of imagination.
* * * *
This eternal moment is all you are, all you have.
Observe it well, for it is ever come and gone
Before you can even begin to perceive it.
* * * *
The gradual shaping of self-imagery
Frames all minds into spontaneous roles
That fulfill the synergy of the human genome.
* * * *
No one cares about you anywhere near as much
As you in your illusional-slash-delusional way might like to believe.
The challenge is for you to balance the spreadsheet with a detachment equal to or more.
* * * *
So many true believers as to make it impossible
To not descend totally into absurdity and horror.
* * * *
Cast out the demons of vanity and greed.
Pure consciousness is untouched by all things mundane.
Only you can do it; you are on your own.
* * * *
There is no need to believe in anything, whatsoever.
All belief is born of imagination’s ceaseless craving for more.
When what it is, is what it is, from any get-go, from any beginning,
The challenge is choosing contentment in whatever existence has offered.
* * * *
Who can even begin to guess all perceptions out there about you.
Some of which may be true, some of which may be false,
All of which fall into the relativity spectrum.
* * * *
Hard to imagine that by the end of this century
The human genome will not be either pruned back dramatically,
Or entirely extinct because of a blend of climate change and environmental collapse,
Or, given our kind’s inability to get along for more than brief bits of time,
A beyond-the-pale biological or chemical or nuclear holocaust.
* * * *
Without the movement of consciousness,
Who and what and when and where and why and how
Could you imagine yourself being?
* * * *
Had you been left to your own devices without any input from the given culture,
What might you have imagined this mystery to be,
If anything?
* * * *
The only freedom from vain notion
Is in the pure awareness prior to consciousness,
And that only for as long as the given mind can fully attend it.
* * * *
It is not your Self that you should question, should doubt,
But the imaginary dream into which you have been cast.
* * * *
Even in the face of the most abominable roles consciousness might parlay,
Is it possible for any spirit to not reflect the purity of its absolute nature?
* * * *
You shall be right-here-right-now forever.
All yesterdays are but dreamy memories,
All tomorrows but dreamy projections.
* * * *
Consciousness is rooted in the instinctual mind
Evolved of the fierce, remorseless jungles of long ago.
It cannot be undone but through the most discerning attention.
* * * *
What is true religion but timeless awareness.
Consciousness is but imagination dreaming.
* * * *
You are a liar, a cheat, a thief, and daily plot murder and mayhem
Between stretches of excessive debauchery and inordinate treachery.
But at least you are not a hypocrite, more often than vain notion calls.
* * * *
Supreme being is not an entity; it is not a dualistic notion.
It is the awareness, the indivisibility, the timelessness, the quintessence,
Within all creations great to small in the omnipresence, omnipotent, omniscient sense.
It is the beingness, the nowness, that reigns unconditional.
It is the absolute, it is eternity.
* * * *
In awareness, the seeker distinguishes Self.
In imagination the seeker seeks and seeks, on and on.
Breathe in, breathe out, to discern how eternity is far too simple
For the busy-busy of imagination to long endure.
* * * *
To believe the soul is something that needs saving, or can be saved,
Is an assumption, that has no merit, whatsoever.
Indivisibility requires no saving.
* * * *
Good friends are the closest thing to true family, true tribe,
That you can possibly have in this quantum dreamtime.
Note that your mother may or may not be included.
* * * *
You have always been right here, right now.
Imagination is a time machine born of illusion.
* * * *
Your genetic past is the foundation of the patterning you are right here, right now.
Everything you say, everything you do, was written in your sands
Long before eternity bloomed into consciousness.
* * * *
What would you do with power? With fame? With fortune?
Would you be the same? Would you be different?
How might your dreamtime change?
* * * *
In awareness, imagination is its own weaver of heavens and hells,
And every category, every variety, every strand, of purgatory between.
* * * *
This is your story, the truth of you.
Hopefully, it worked out relatively well.
Hopefully, you did not wish it away.
Hopefully, the dream played true.
* * * *
What a thing the evolution of the brain, of mind, of cognition.
From a naturally-selected instinctual apparatus to one delineated by the given culture,
Teeming to the nth degree with ever sort of detail, every sort of trivia,
Every variety of mindful and mindless pursuit.
* * * *
Santa Claus was real until you finally figured out he was not.
The same with the Easter Bunny, the Tooth Fairy, Bigfoot, and Harvey the Pooka.
But Jesus? No, Jesus is real. Jesus is not a lie. Jesus died for your sins, that you might exist forever.
Jesus is going return someday to take you up to heaven, no matter what evils you have done.
All you need do is believe, and hand over ten percent-ish to your chosen middleman.
* * * *
Any cult (a.k.a. religion) likely has these usual suspects in common:
Charismatic leader,
Supreme deity with supporting troupe,
Mythology, idols, dogma, rituals, symbols, dress code, hierarchy,
And most importantly, a collection of true believers tithing to support the prescribed mission.
* * * *
The zombie-like stares of young minds adrift in one screen or another,
Dreaming in the virtual reality of quantum design of the mind-made one.
* * * *
A most earnest determination is required to truthfully inquire into this inexplicable dream of time.
Any agenda concocted by any other offers nothing more than a long-and-winding labyrinth,
Replete with every imaginable smoke-and-mirror-illusory-deflection-of-a-distraction.
Whenever you are of a mind to every moment be the timeless state of awareness,
It will ever be the same right-here-right-now it has ever been, will ever be.
* * * *
This dreamy universe is all about chemistry playing out in ways beyond imagining.
It is about how the kaleidoscoping quantum theater is every moment patterned.
The entire cabaret is nothing more than an ever-changing puzzle of a matrix.
* * * *
You need not react, need not respond, need not answer, to anything, but through your own volition.
It is requires only your becoming acutely aware of the chemistries blended of desire and fear.
It requires observing closely, every moment, the feelings any given combination ordains,
Rather than simply giving awareness over to the conditioned mind-body responses.
The endorphin meter is set by the level of attachment to any given scenario.
To be as free as humanly possible is to function at a level of awareness
Challenging to manifest for any great duration of so-called time.
In other words, the indivisible now, the timeless moment,
The awareness you truly are in this reverie of time,
Is, far more often than not, being interminably shanghaied
By the time-bound imagination you are not, were not, will never be.
* * * *
Materialism is an aspect of any human dreamtime,
One that each and every one chooses to embrace or reject or integrate,
Depending on the endorphins that play out from the perception of possessing or being possessed.
* * * *
How much more satisfying, more agreeable, more enjoyable,
More gratifying, more pleasurable, even when giving,
To do anything creative or tedious or otherwise
For your imaginary mind-body self first.
Vanity of vanities, all is vanity.
* * * *
If there is nirvana, it is surely in the purest state of awareness,
To which the myriad knowns of consciousness entirely evaporate.
A pristine state to which complete and utter aloneness is the key.
* * * *
Love is nothing more than an imaginary human concoction.
An evolutionary consequence of the mammalian nervous system,
That has no reality whatsoever in the awareness prior to consciousness.
* * * *
Closely observe the insatiable craving for more of anything and everything,
And realize its intoxicating dynamic is entirely born of imagination,
That is itself risen of the instinctual origin of the species.
We are but a relatively brief advent in this magical-mystery tour.
* * * *
Awareness is incapable of doing anything and everything.
It is through consciousness’s genetic proficiency at spinning the quantum
In ways limited only by the given spectrum of imagination.
* * * *
You can imagine doing just about anything you please.
Playing out in your mind whatever good, whatever evil you will.
But what you actually do is your worldly mark in the dusty sands of time.
* * * *
True belief, true faith, true knowing, do not flower in dogma.
Discern the indivisible to slash the Gordian Knot of doubt.
* * * *
The psychic weight of space and time is played out daily in every mind.
It is the quantum mirage that inspires endless impromptu
In humankind’s epic collusion of imagination.
* * * *
Only the fairly rare can surround themselves with opponents
And be at peace with the differing realities perceived by others.
* * * *
How has this awareness come to be? And can its indelible nature ever be known?
Can its ever-present reality ever be truly discerned as more than a conception of consciousness?
How can that which is timeless, that which is indivisible, that which is unborn-undying,
That which is prior to all that is quantum, ever be confined, or even touched,
By the time-bound-sensory-mind cosmos fashioned of imagination?
* * * *
There are a variety of remarkable substances
That will aid your discerning the truth of this mystery of existence.
That this quantum dream of time and space, of agony and ecstasy, of all dualistic notion,
Is ultimately nothing more than an imaginary light and sound show.
That you are absolutely alone for all eternity,
And cannot do a friggin’ thing about it,
Except succumb to one diversion after another,
Until you perchance wake up and stop smelling the roses.
* * * *
All judgments, opinions, conclusions, assessments, beliefs, prejudices, stereotypes, and the like,
Are ultimately meaningless, yet largely unavoidable given the dualistic nature of the sensory mind.
Best keep as many to yourself as possible if you aspire to the tranquility of political expediency.
* * * *
In any given sensory theater across the cosmos, across all creation,
Is it at all possible for consciousness to inspire anything but dualistic perception
In all but those rare few gifted with eyes that see and ears that hear.
* * * *
What is this awareness?
What is this perceiving we call soul?
Is it truly something distinct, something definite?
Or merely yet another resonant assumption of consciousness?
If awareness is soul, you are soul; if awareness is not soul, you are not soul.
How any prefer to see it is their own affair, and theirs alone,
As it is for every other, under any sun.
* * * *
Mother Nature is an absolutely impartial creator-destroyer.
She will raise you up and grind you down with the same equanimity.
It is up to you, and you alone, to survive, to persist, the dream of time between.
* * * *
The singular, indivisible, ever-present now is the only point
At which the quantum spark of consciousness is touched by the senses,
The memory of which generates the illusion of time and space.
What is called reality is but a kaleidoscoping dream.
* * * *
Whether Jesus ever really existed or not,
Humankind is 99.9999% likely stuck
With Catholic and Christian and Mormon
And other cultish absurdity for the rest of time.
* * * *
Resisting the ever-present, indivisible nature of awareness is futile.
Consciousness is but temporal passenger of a mortal dream.
And must inevitably relinquish its reverie at one point or another.
It is the fate of all great to small to drown in the sea of timeless oblivion.
* * * *
What on earth leads human beings to believe any deity worth its salt
Would be at all interested in, at all concerned about, their pathetic tripe?
Imagine listening to all that wretched whining, day after day, for all eternity.
* * * *
Is it as much religion or spirituality as it is being in touch
With the timeless actuality of pure, undifferentiated awareness,
Without all the missteps and mishaps and absurdities of consciousness,
And the ceaselessly insufferable array of temporal vanities
Born of desire’s intoxication with imagination.
* * * *
Heaven, hell, purgatory, call them what you will, are but conceptual perceptions,
Attitudes, insights, experiences, beliefs, realities, dreamscapes, notions, impressions,
Equally witnessed by the indelibly indivisible, eternal awareness of any given moment.
* * * *
Generally fairly wise to assume all your fussy persnicketiness about any this or any that,
Means pretty much diddly-squat to anyone anywhere else in this or any other dream of time.
Getting over yourself as often and quickly as possible is always judicious personal policy.
* * * *
Now the mind-body is doing this, now the mind-body is doing that,
None of it the awareness that is you without imagination assuming it so.
* * * *
Pleasure is the absence of pain.
Happiness, the absence of sorrow.
Wisdom, the absence of delusion.
Serenity, the absence of dread.
* * * *
The Me, the Myself, the I, are nothing more
Than the intangible, inseparable, indelible awareness,
Usurped by the dualistic notions of consciousness, of imagination.
* * * *
You are but timeless awareness peering through a quantum veil.
The you that you believe you are is but an imaginary concoction.
* * * *
I am better than you, and my tribe is better than yours.
Same old me-myself-and-I narrative spun across the human paradigm
Since imagination took root in the jungle-born mind that evolved in the time before time.
* * * *
Whenever thought attaches to any sort of attribute,
Imagination usurps reality, death raises its conditional mind,
And the indivisible awareness seamlessly dissipates from center stage,
Serenely witnessing the eternal dream from behind the veil of consciousness,
The cloak that flutters amok in every rational and irrational way imagination allows.
* * * *
You can sit in ashrams staring at walls,
Or freely meander the dream doing whatever you will.
From any beginning to any ending, it matters not a speck of an iota.
* * * *
It is the eyes that create the greatest sense of separation within and without.
None of the other senses enhance dualistic notion in anywhere near the same way.
This grand theater matrix, this quantum dreamtime would not be without them.
* * * *
If something is true, it is true rain or shine, forever and daze beyond,
And many if not most assumptions are little more than fallacious notions.
* * * *
There appear to be no stops in the senseless ways
To play out what appear to be an infinite array of insanities
Available in this manifest theater of consciousness.
* * * *
There is no ‘Me’, no ‘Myself’, no ‘I’, in the indivisibility of awareness, how can there be?
The given mind that asserts its dream real and true, is but a conditioned illusion,
An ever-changing, temporal, quantum phantom born of imagination.
* * * *
It is the immortal awareness we all equally are that carries on
In whatever seedlings are available in this grand manifest theater.
Your particular notion of individuality is but a one-time dreamtime.
There is no heaven, there is no hell, but whatever imagination imagines.
* * * *
Imagination is but a streaming quantum dream
Usurping awareness to fabricate an imaginary self.
It is only in a very still mind that you will be true Self.
* * * *
Anyone can fabricate a story,
But to believe it true requires a gullible mind,
Lacking any shadow of doubt, and prepared to pay any cost.
Such is the destiny of the true believer.
Let the buyer beware.
* * * *
A rational, lucid, cynical, skeptical, absurd, asymmetrical mind
May be the most balanced adaptation consciousness can concoct.
* * * *
The many attachments to which all are bound
Are subjective concoctions of our own individual imagination.
To be unbound, one must cast off into the indivisible solitude of pure awareness
From which all quantum creations are every moment spun.
* * * *
You are an ethereal cloud of awareness
Poking about the conditioned concoction
Of a sensory-mind dream of space and time.
* * * *
If you were lost at sea, bobbing in the immense emptiness, totally alone, with no hope of survival,
It would really be no different than if you were sitting in your living room doing boob-tube shuffle.
* * * *
The you that you dream you are, is but a set of perceptions,
A collection of memories, a frame of reference, a grab bag of attributes,
Imagining your character real, your body real, your world real, your universe real.
Real being nothing more than an ever-changing quantum illusion
Mesmerizing the awareness equally permeating all.
* * * *
Geometric forms have absolutely no reality in nature.
Lines, circles, triangles, squares, pentagons, and all the many other shapes,
Are but conceptual creations by minds imagining perfect order
In an indivisible mirage born of quantum chaos.
* * * *
If you must believe in something, believe in nature,
And draw on science to explore its rhyme and reason.
* * * *
You are the perfect, most indivisible you.
You are not flawed in any way or shape or form.
Imperfect minds formulate archetypes that can never be,
Like geometric shapes which have absolutely no reality in nature.
Leave behind all who would limit your dream of time.
Party on as you are, Pilgrim, party on.
* * * *
If you believe that any words, any numbers, mean anything to the mystery of now,
You must also imagine that wind and clouds mean something to the spacious sky.
Awareness is all, and the motley shards are but players wafting across the stage.
* * * *
It might have happened ten seconds ago, ten years ago, or ten thousand years ago.
What is time, what is space, but the quantum-made concoction of imagination?
* * * *
What does it mean to exist? What does it mean to be alive?
What does it mean for the quantum mystery to be conscious of itself?
What does it mean for the all but immeasurable electromagnetic spectrum
To be able explore even a infinitesimal sliver of its boggling potential?
What does it mean for you to be pondering this thought right now?
* * * *
Memories from ten-twenty-thirty-forty-fifty-sixty-plus years ago,
Are as real as one even just a moment ago.
Imagination is all.
* * * *
What effort it takes to hold that imaginary universe together.
So much simpler to abide in the pure awareness of eternity.
* * * *
All this was set in motion millions of years ago back in the jungles of Africa.
We are all born of a natural selection process that runs through the core of our DNA.
No point getting upset about the fact that men do what men do, and women do what women do.
The contemporary world may make the tango of our species absurdly complex,
But the fundamental patterning is ever very much the same.
* * * *
The mind is an insatiable beast, ever hungry for more.
More food, more sex, more things, more power, more fame, more fortune.
Tamp down the ceaseless more-more-more of consciousness
If you wish to wander about free and clear.
* * * *
Awareness is pristine and immaculate and clear of any blemish or stain,
But is it at all possible for consciousness to be without judgment?
Is not everything thought one form of judgment or another?
Opinions, assumptions, stereotypes, conventions, ideals,
Ethics, principles, labels, laws, pigeonholes, beliefs,
Conclusions, notions, expectations, values, norms,
Any patterns, any definitions, any attitudes, whatsoever.
The roots of pride, of vanity, are saturated with all of the above.
* * * *
You do not exist in any way, any shape, any form, you think you do.
You are an imaginary, whimsical, fantastical creature,
Really no more real than a unicorn.
* * * *
Why are some so surprised that our fellow earthlings are intelligent?
We are all products of the same indivisible quantum essence.
We are all playing our parts in the same dreamtime.
Why would they not be our equals in their own awareness?
* * * *
No matter how far you wander, how long you wander, where you wander, how you wander,
You will ever be abiding in the very same eternal prior-to-consciousness awareness.
You will ever be enduring in the very same perpetual right-here-right-now.
* * * *
Every life form ever born is of the same source.
Biological organisms sculpted of the same quantum essence.
No matter how large, no matter how small, none are really different at all.
For humankind to assert itself distinct or superior in any way, in any shape, in any form,
Is nothing more than consciousness imagining a collusion of delusion.
* * * *
Awareness is prior to consciousness.
Awareness is eternal, timeless, boundless.
Consciousness is temporal, time-bound, limited.
A dream and dreamer ensnared in a quantum mirage.
* * * *
Believing your little blip of existence
Will make any significant impact is laughable.
Historical archives are chock-full of the all-but-forgotten.
Oblivion awaits your surrender.
* * * *
To believe yourself wise, to believe yourself sage,
Can be yet another road to purgatory,
Yet another cautionary tale.
* * * *
Differences are ultimately not at all what the mind perceives them to be.
Emphasis on them disregards the indivisibility that equally permeates all.
* * * *
So many words, so many concepts, so many philosophies, so many dogmas.
All artificial, all just to describe, to explain, to illustrate, to capture, what always boils down
To the same timeless, unborn, undying, ungraspable mystery of awareness.
The eternal source that requires absolutely none of it.
* * * *
Why should it take any effort to be what you are?
It most certainly did not when you were very young.
If there is effort, consciousness is ever the usual suspect.
If consciousness is but a dream, why give it credence?
* * * *
No matter how immense or minute, how bright or dim, any given mind –
Musical-rhythmically, visual-spatially, verbal-linguistically, logical-mathematically,
Bodily-kinesthetically, interpersonally, intrapersonally, naturalistically, existentially, morally –
That given mind is ever bound in the limits of space-time by its imaginary potential.
* * * *
Awareness will always remain exactly the same no matter how it is branded.
It is impossible to burden its stillness with any twist or turn of conscious design.
* * * *
Evolution has sculpted life into many patterns, many forms, many ways and means,
But it is ever the same soupy essence bubbling away beneath each and every surface.
All separation, all difference, all uniqueness, is nothing more than imaginary notion.
* * * *
The human mind, human consciousness, is an insatiable beast,
Ravenously consuming everything it can, seeking experience at every level,
Including attempting to grasp, to know, the immeasurable unknown,
Whose indelible mystery is eternally, indivisibly unbreachable.
* * * *
The relatively negligible persona you play in that mortal container is a one-time show,
An extemporaneous fabrication of imagination that has no fundamental reality, whatsoever.
What you truly are is indivisibly more, and there is nothing individual, nothing personal about it.
* * * *
All chronicles are but piecemeal fabrications of illusory perceptions
Born of sensory minds wandering about a quantum playhouse.
Time is unreal, space is unreal, light is unreal, sound is unreal.
All is but imaginary notion, make-believe narratives from any get-go.
Only the immaculate awareness through which consciousness streams is real.
* * * *
What is this me, what is this myself, what is this I, but a time-bound dream of self-absorption.
Egocentric … ethnocentric … chronocentric … geocentric … heliocentric … cosmoscentric.
It is all about an imaginary me-me-me projecting in every way, every shape, every form.
* * * *
All the gusty flurries of the mind are of absolutely no consequence to the eternal awareness.
The myriad concoctions of imagination are but time-bound fabrications
Of an ever-changing make-believe reality.
If you yearn for tranquility, if you yearn for true Self,
Abide the cosmos kaleidoscoping about you in the ground of awareness.
* * * *
The motley winds of consciousness with all its attributes, all its dualities:
Black and white hot and cold, full and empty, good and evil, life and death,
Has absolutely nothing to do with the still awareness through which it blows.
* * * *
All across the world, the same conversation.
No matter the geography, no matter the time, no matter the culture,
No matter the tradition, no matter the politic, no matter the economics, no matter the technology,
No matter the religion, no matter the philosophy, no matter the language, no matter the dress,
No matter the gender, no matter the family, no matter the education, no matter the work,
No matter the war, no matter the sport, no matter the pastimes, no matter anything;
Each and every human being, males and females of all ages and persuasions,
Are in every way imaginable, essentially having the same conversation.
* * * *
Bookstores, libraries, museums, thrift shops, garage sales, dusty collections, land fills, fiery pyres.
Selling, giving, burying, burning, books of every imaginable title written across the world, across time.
Billions and billions, likely even trillions of thoughts, set down again and again, forever again.
As if it really matters.
* * * *
Consciousness and all its imaginary assumptions is a tyrannical figment
Founded upon the evolutionary happenstance of the biological imperative.
* * * *
Do you hurt or kill someone
Because they do not see it or do it your way?
How absurdly ludicrous is that?
* * * *
You are the ever-present awareness, commandeered by the given biological container,
Sailing the illusion of space-time playing out whatever consciousness its capacity allows.
* * * *
Who is your tribe?
Who are your parents, your siblings?
What is you gender, your race, your religion, your culture?
What are all your attachments to this dreamtime world, or some rumored next one?
And what, by the way, makes you so sure any of it is truly real,
Or that you were ever even born?
* * * *
The challenge is to not confuse the witness you are with what is witnessed.
To not attach in any way, in any shape, in any form, the awareness you truly are
With the sensory-inspired illusion-delusion of time and space kaleidoscoping about you.
You are pure awareness cloaked in a quantum reverie; nothing more, nothing less, nothing but.
* * * *
Do not confuse the witness you are with what is witnessed.
Do not attach, do not cling in any way, in any shape, in any form,
The mystery you are, with the dream playing out about you.
* * * *
Awareness is simultaneously, indivisibly, indelibly prior
To any and all illusions sponsored by space and time.
* * * *
This is what you have always been.
This is what you will always be.
There is no more or less to it.
All else is naught but vain notion.
* * * *
Ponder, if you will, every life form from great to small, sentient to insentient,
All born of the same indivisible mystery, all born with the same immutable awareness.
Each and every one, very much alone, crafting its own unique translation of the quantum play,
Each and every one simultaneously imagining an existence, a world, a universe, in its own distinct way.
* * * *
Timeless awareness is what you are, is all you are.
The quantum theater and all its countlessly boggling attributes
Is but an imaginary, touchy-feely, three-dimensional light and sound show.
A dream of time and space ever gone as quickly as it came.
* * * *
The future is fucked in just about every way imaginable.
What will happen to all the young folk when their entitlement collapses?
Hopefully, the aliens will have a time machine when they show up in a few million years.
* * * *
Destiny is founded upon the sands of mind,
Written and unwritten every ephemeral moment
By the imaginary continuum of assumption.
* * * *
The vanity of the human drama is a ceaseless, absurdity-laden circus.
Buddha did it his way, Hitler did it his, your mother did it hers.
What difference in the indivisible quantum reality, really?
* * * *
The ephemeral ground of imagination
Is built upon the ever-present quantum swirl.
The everything, the everywhere, nothing all the while.
* * * *
To declare, to assert, “I am free.”
Who is the I? What is am? What is freedom?
Imagination, what an illusive jester.
* * * *
The electromagnetic spectrum is but a swirl of illusion
A dream to which you may or may not choose to subscribe.
* * * *
All human beings are shaped by the nature-nurture into which they are involuntarily cast.
All are conditioned, trained, programmed, indoctrinated, disciplined, humbled, tamed, cultivated,
Domesticated, subjugated, suppressed, conquered, curbed, pacified, repressed, brainwashed.
To unshackle one’s true Self, to un-wash the mind, requires a great deal of discernment.
Each, very much alone, must choose, must grapple, to be free of all the absurdity.
* * * *
Enduring this existence, surviving this existence,
Need not make you guilty in any way, in any shape, in any form.
Heavens, hells, reincarnation, karma, whatever beliefs have been set before you,
Are nothing more than concoctions, speculations, assumptions,
Of the those who would own your mind.
* * * *
Awareness is all there is, awareness is all there is not.
Ever-present, indivisible, immortal, unborn, undying, unbound.
The time and space continuum is but an fleeting illusion of the quantum mind.
* * * *
Likely little or nothing of your dreamtime matters to anyone but you.
All your experiences, all your insights, all your sentiments, all your passions,
Mean squat to any other in comparison to the attachment you bear towards them.
* * * *
Nationalism, patriotism, jingoism, chauvinism, prejudice, xenophobia,
Are really nothing more than humankind’s seemingly genetic predisposition
Towards the egocentric-ethnocentric-geocentric-heliocentric groupthink dynamic.
As narrow-minded, closed-minded, insular, provincial, parochial, as imagination deigns.
* * * *
For most every problem, there is most likely one solution, if not several.
Perceived clearly, the most logical resolution or resolutions
Will more than likely become apparent.
* * * *
What is the most priceless thing you can imagine?
And will what is priceless today be so tomorrow?
* * * *
Are the many who live fully in their thoughts really alive?
Or are they the walking dead only imagining existence?
* * * *
Regarding the genomic commonalities, the inherent behaviors of the human psyche:
Pride and envy and gluttony and lust and wrath and greed and sloth,
It is delusion for any individual, any group, any culture,
To believe itself in any way grander or superior to any other.
* * * *
From the first man, the first woman,
Nothing more than physics and chemistry and biology
Orchestrating ever-present in the epochs of the given imaginary context.
* * * *
No history is ever exactly what we imagine it to be,
And certainly not close to anything even the most well-intentioned screenwriter
Can bundle into a two-hour movie, a ten-hour documentary,
Or even a long-running mini-series.
* * * *
Life is a convoluted dream: Why should you not be convoluted dreamer?
Why should you be bound by any precept or principle, any theory or formula,
Any rule or law, any decree or edict, any order or directive, any concept or notion?
Why should you be obligated to any human-made mind-gorp, whatsoever?
* * * *
What makes anyone so beyond-an-iota-of-doubt-sure,
That anything ever really happened the way they arbitrarily perceived it?
And if perchance there is an objective, impartial truth, who or what can ever be witness to it?
Is it even the slightest bit possible for there to be an unbiased, impartial observer
Without one relative, subjective, judgmental rendition or another?
* * * *
What is this great fear, this great dread,
That harbors ever-humming in this mammalian frame,
But the genomic pulse, the instinctive craving, the conscious obsession,
The ceaseless quest, the endless pursuit of unfeasible-unreachable-unattainable security,
That is never long-satisfied, never long at ease, no matter how we feed it?
Consciousness ever-tormented to churn on and on and on.
* * * *
What curious things sensory-inspired perceptions are.
Given so much credence, despite being entirely born up the wings of imagination.
Stories all, to whatever end, only imagination cares.
* * * *
Without life, is there death?
Without good, is there evil?
Without light, is there dark?
Without white, is there black?
Without ecstasy, is there agony?
Without right, is there wrong?
Without love, is there hate?
Without yes, is there no?
Without either, is there or?
What is duality but a menagerie
Of an all but infinite array of possibilities
In which all dreams of consciousness dance their dance.
* * * *
Ambition, naked or well-cloaked, can be more savage than the most ferocious beast.
At least the beast stops until its corporeal hunger gives rise to the next chase.
Human hunger, the insatiable craving of consciousness, never sleeps.
* * * *
Your body? If it is your body, why is it always changing?
Where was it before you were born? Where will it be after you die?
And while in it, have you ever really been anything more than solitary witness
To a boggling, sensory-inspired, ever-present, quickly-passing dream?
We call it space, we call it time, we call it real, we call it true,
But is it all any more than dubious assumption?
* * * *
Everyone, everywhere, to whatever degree they can muster,
Investigates physics and chemistry and biology in their own unique way.
Some may well be more perceptive, more accurate, in their observations than others,
But all, right or wrong or indifferent, have their conclusions,
And play out their existence accordingly.
* * * *
This spinning orb has been usurped by psychopaths, sociopaths, narcissists, and sundry miscreants.
The more innocuous, less invasive folk, abide the heart-breaking absurdities as best as they can,
Growing gardens, taking long walks, and staring at walls in coffee shops, bars, and ashrams.
* * * *
History is woven into every language.
The dead reign from unmarked graves,
From dusty realms at imagination’s end.
* * * *
What is this need, this monkey-mind drive, so many have,
To be on stage, to have others moving and swaying to their narcissism?
This deep longing for others to applaud them, to follow them, to mimic their delusion.
Why should anyone travel the same direction in the same manner as you?
* * * *
Duality’s menagerie is required for this dream
To play its play, dance its dance, sing its song.
* * * *
Knowing and unknowing, what difference to the timeless clarity of pure awareness?
Whether cloudy or clear, the skies are ever untouched by the trammels of consciousness.
Yes, your apparatus is perhaps more complex, your consciousness, your mind, more adroit,
But the essential awareness can be no different across any and all universes,
Or even the inexplicable dimensions beyond all beyonds.
* * * *
Ultimate truth, ultimate reality, whatever it is, whatever it is not,
Can never be ascertained through any means by the dream of consciousness.
All the perceptions, all the assumptions, that have ever played out in this quantum theater
Are naught but an ever-momentary, ever-intangible, ever-relative, burst of imagination in awareness.
* * * *
All those now living, now abiding this desecrated world, will relatively soon be dead and forever gone.
What we all thought and did about and to each other, what we all assumed real and true,
Will not matter even one scintilla to anyone but a relatively few academics
And other accumulators of all things absurd and mundane.
Assuming, of course, anyone manages to survive
The dream we are bequeathing.
* * * *
Imaginary friends.
More imaginary friends.
Even more imaginary friends.
* * * *
Dreams of glory.
More dreams of glory.
Even more dreams of glory.
* * * *
Quantum dreaming.
More quantum dreaming.
Even more quantum dreaming.
* * * *
Breathless absurdity.
More breathless absurdity.
Even more breathless absurdity.
* * * *
Perceptions.
More perceptions.
Even more perceptions.
* * * *
Absurdity and horror.
More absurdity and horror.
Even more absurdity and horror.
Soundbites
What is any universe but a mind and five senses imagining it so.
* * * *
If you must hope for something, hope for a quick and unexpected and painless death.
* * * *
One of the more peculiar things about humankind is its ability to delude itself about almost anything.
* * * *
Imagination is the guardian of the finite.
* * * *
Hope is what you make it.
* * * *
We are all just actors here; only the rarest not believing their parts real.
* * * *
A dream to which we have in ignorance submitted.
* * * *
You are an ever-changing dynamic of genomes, of instincts, upon which consciousness cavorts.
* * * *
If you cannot discern heaven now, what makes you believe you will deserve it later?
* * * *
Naming anything is to embrace illusion.
* * * *
Instinct slathered with consciousness.
* * * *
The mind is a quantum screen upon which time and space play their illusion.
* * * *
What happens when illusion meets reality? Death while living.
* * * *
The science fiction that is no longer fiction.
* * * *
How has imagination so usurped your awe that you are blind to your mystery?
* * * *
Without the mind-body, what need or use do you have for the imagined persona it has devised?
* * * *
What is life but a long stream of perceptions that add up to nothing.
* * * *
Absurdity usurped by madness.
* * * *
An imagined rendition of an assumed reality.
* * * *
How mistaken humankind is to believe itself so intelligent.
* * * *
Imagine it so.
* * * *
What need for belief? Attend the moment.
* * * *
What is time but a function of memory cells, make-believing perceptions more than a mirage.
* * * *
The mind is a harbor of delusion.
* * * *
Another day in the collusion-delusion-illusion.
* * * *
Where is this Me, this Myself, this I, to which imagination is so attached?
* * * *
Every dream a universe unto its Self.
* * * *
Awareness is the sentience; quantum, the vehicle that allows perception.
* * * *
To what ends, what end, will imagination go?
* * * *
Imagination is the rainbow of the mind.
* * * *
Imagination is the creator of all.
* * * *
Desire is ever fondling its imaginary self.
* * * *
All you want is naught but illusion.
* * * *
The Me, the Myself, the I, is nothing more than the pretend of imagination.
* * * *
The usurpers will use any means to blind you, deceive you, into believing their way true.
* * * *
Why waste your time believing anything? Stand alone, be free.
* * * *
How endless the weavings of imagination.
* * * *
What are you but a consequence of natural selection; naught but a Darwinian dream.
* * * *
What is truth, what is not truth, but a flicker of imagination.
* * * *
The human drama is about incessant movement.
* * * *
Imagination is the creator of all attachment, and the suffering that results.
* * * *
Freedom? What bother to have ever believed you were not.
* * * *
And what is it you are measuring anyway, but the imagination imagining you?
* * * *
The difference between me and you is imaginary.
* * * *
The never-ending story of absurdity infinitum.
* * * *
There really is no point but for the vanity of imagination.
* * * *
The laws of physics can only be broken by imagination.
* * * *
You are a bubble of consciousness permeated by awareness.
* * * *
Is it true or just something you want to believe?
* * * *
What memory serves tells the story within all.
* * * *
Do you really know any more than the nature-nurture of your quantum dream allows?
* * * *
Unclench the mind to free up the conditioning; discern the relativity of consciousness.
* * * *
The price you pay for the blend of narcissism and hedonism you play is called consciousness.
* * * *
Amuse yourself however you will, it is, after all is said and done, but a dream born of mind.
* * * *
There is no more but what the craving of imagination concocts.
* * * *
The road to perdition is paved by many flights of imagination.
* * * *
The mind is ever rebuilding its imaginary universe.
* * * *
Free will is a dubious notion.
* * * *
Try not to make the mistake of making your imaginary god or gods as vain and petty as you.
* * * *
Why give your Self over to any speculation?
* * * *
In every mind imagination weaves a dream to which it holds until its dying day.
* * * *
The closest humankind will ever get to space travel is science fiction.
* * * *
Why pretend to know what you cannot?
* * * *
Dreams passing in the night.
* * * *
A collusion of consciousness.
* * * *
Let go the imaginary universe in your weary head, at least once in a while.
* * * *
Imagination will never find any truth that is not imaginary.
* * * *
There is no fear in the moment, in the awareness; only in imagination.
* * * *
What has any point ever been but imaginary notion.
* * * *
Too bound by tribal notion to discern that which is without affiliation.
* * * *
What is all knowledge, all experience, but imagination playing itself real.
* * * *
Can you really remember more than traces of perception?
* * * *
Time is an imaginary construct, a collusion to which only humankind religiously adheres.
* * * *
Yet another flight of imagination.
* * * *
The only real war is imaginary self versus true Self, and little self must lose to win.
* * * *
Did that really happen, or was it just a dream? What difference, really?
* * * *
Just when you start lulling yourself into believing absurdity cannot possibly get any more absurd …
* * * *
There is true Self, and there is imaginary self; which are you right now?
* * * *
The trick is to not believe your own propaganda.
* * * *
Is that what is going ion, or what you imagine is going on?
* * * *
Future-past is in each and every moment as it happens in the awareness of consciousness.
* * * *
No matter how many gazillions of things imagination might imagine, it is still just imagination.
* * * *
What is any mind but a reflection of perception.
* * * *
Pretending sentience is not sentience.
* * * *
Cast out the demons born of imagination.
* * * *
What absurdities and horrors will the future hold that the world has never witnessed.
* * * *
Love or hate, win or lose, believe or not, it will all soon be over.
* * * *
Anybody’s speculation is no better or worse, right or wrong, real or unreal, than any other.
* * * *
This is what it all boils down to: There is only you, all alone, imagining it all.
* * * *
If your observation does not match your belief, do you change the belief, or stop observing?
* * * *
Humankind is a species prone to delusion.
* * * *
Engaged in a dream.
* * * *
You are an organism playing out an evolutionary context in a quantum dream.
* * * *
Imagination, the dreambaker.
* * * *
Is there anything the play of imagination will not come up with in this mortal dreamtime?
* * * *
As always, the universe is an interesting dream.
* * * *
There is a special place in hell for people who believe.
* * * *
There goes imagination feeling sorry for itself again.
* * * *
Stop scaring your imaginary self.
* * * *
It never ceases to amaze what delusions can be taken for reality.
* * * *
Death is just erasing the delusion of illusion.
* * * *
A flurry of imagination.
* * * *
Every imaginable distraction is set before you.
* * * *
What you do is not necessarily what you imagine.
* * * *
Awareness is neither good nor evil nor any other dualistic notion; it simply is.
* * * *
That you need to believe anything shows your lack of faith.
* * * *
If that is what you want to believe, who is anyone to tell you otherwise?
* * * *
No imagination, no universe.
* * * *
It has all been nothing more than extremely believable distraction.
* * * *
This is not what you are; it is what you pretend.
* * * *
All differences are only a matter of relative degrees of imagination.
* * * *
It is imagination that is alive, not you.
* * * *
All states of mind are imaginary.
* * * *
Imagination will always pull you back if you let it.
* * * *
Where does consciousness ply in the mind that is as clear as a cloudless, still sky?
* * * *
Suicide is just destroying your imaginary universe.
* * * *
Why believe in any deity outside your Self?
* * * *
You have labels for everything, but what do you perceive right here, right now?
* * * *
Is imagination a function of time, or time a function of imagination?
* * * *
Imaginary me, imaginary myself, imaginary I.
* * * *
Why should you fell any obligation to achieve the sanity imposed by absurdity?
* * * *
The projections of consciousness can be a seething broth.
* * * *
Stop identifying with the mind-body and all its perceptions, and where are you?
* * * *
The swirl of consciousness can never be more than imaginary.
* * * *
Carnal knowledge leaves much to the imagination.
* * * *
Imagination only imagines it is alive.
* * * *
You can get used to almost anything in the relativity of consciousness.
* * * *
Abandon hope all ye who would see.
* * * *
The anarchy of insanity and absurdity.
* * * *
The difference between anyone and you is but an imaginary universe.
* * * *
It is imagination that roams far and wide.
* * * *
The awareness that is prior to consciousness is prior to all stories.
* * * *
The difference between you and me is but an imaginary universe.
* * * *
The universe that imagination built.
* * * *
Surrounded by a world full of every absurdity, about which you have no say, whatsoever.
* * * *
Prior to consciousness, prior to imagination.
* * * *
Hell is born of imagination, as is heaven its absence.
* * * *
And what is it to be rational in an absurd world?
* * * *
What a bother this sack of imaginary notion can be.
* * * *
What is comparison but rating imaginary perceptions.
* * * *
Imagination venting.
* * * *
Consciousness is the bloom of the quantum creation.
* * * *
Imagination shaping your universe to whatever degree capacity and limitation allow.
* * * *
Vanity is imagination tooting its own horn over and over until death does it part.
* * * *
It is in awareness, not consciousness, in which you will find your Self.
* * * *
The meek of spirit and stale of mind abide in delusion.
* * * *
Hard to be afraid of things in which you do not believe.
* * * *
Why believe in anything? Is not awareness enough?
* * * *
Imagination is always tripping on its own creations.
* * * *
All life is the same nameless traveler, each with its own unique dream of a universe.
* * * *
Die, non-believers! Die! Die, believers! Die!
* * * *
We are all normal in our imaginary universes.
* * * *
The world is still very Darwinian; but in a conscious way.
* * * *
You really believe your labels mean anything to the ultimate?
* * * *
If there is a supreme being, how could it not be just as imaginary as you?
* * * *
History is a great deal of imaginary dead weight.
* * * *
Sophisticated absurdity is no different than the unsophisticated kind.
* * * *
What you really are, and are not, is the awareness upon which all creation is imagined.
* * * *
Still trying to fill that hungry mind in every way imaginable, and with what?
* * * *
Awareness is as big as it is small; without consciousness, nothing at all.
* * * *
About so many things you can never know; why pretend you do or ever will?
* * * *
All is but one imaginary concoction after another after another after another.
* * * *
Praise Jesus for Christian guilt and other absurdities.
* * * *
Awareness is nothing without a mind-body in which to conjure a dream.
* * * *
The dream ignores most, and quickly forgets all; no trace but ghosts of imaginary notion.
* * * *
Have you ever cared deeply about anything not tied to one vain notion or another?
* * * *
Denial is the way of delusion.
* * * *
Always an endorphin or three in payment for a chore in imagination’s wake.
* * * *
What is the human paradigm but intoxication with imagination.
* * * *
Belief is capable of inspiring any and every imaginable absurdity and horror.
* * * *
What is a true believer but a delusional contortionist.
* * * *
This world is a playground for psychopaths and every imaginable strain of degeneracy.
* * * *
There is no you but what imagination concocts.
* * * *
The entire human paradigm is a collusion of imagination.
* * * *
Have you seen the dream for what it is, and is not?
* * * *
Is imagination life? Is it death? And does any rhetoric prove either so?
* * * *
Let imagination be the harbor of murder and mayhem.
* * * *
Are you consciousness, or the awareness peering through its veil?
* * * *
What is birth but the beginning of a dream, and death its end.
* * * *
Awareness is the sky, consciousness the wind.
* * * *
If you had no memory, no knowledge, about what would you think?
* * * *
Without imagination, no creature can discern any reality but its own.
* * * *
Awareness is the life force’s window to consciousness.
* * * *
Imagination is all about endorphins and their hypnotic addiction.
* * * *
How could your version of the cosmos exist without you relentlessly imagining it so?
* * * *
And when the dream is done, what more?
* * * *
And still they believe.
* * * *
How can you not stand aloof from a species so absurdly unaligned with its origin?
* * * *
Self, Soul, God … Nothing more than imaginary construct with no reality, whatsoever.
* * * *
Sure hope you do not think that is going to work in the real world.
* * * *
Got illusion and delusion in profusion.
* * * *
What end can there be to self-absorption but the voluntary cessation of imaginary notion.
* * * *
How to negotiate the rocky dream through the sea of bliss is the question.
* * * *
Nothing like a true believer to sharpen your wit.
* * * *
Abolish absurdity today.
* * * *
Meaning and purpose are the source of all human vanity, all human delusion.
* * * *
The only difference between you and any other is imaginary.
* * * *
Yet another true believer.
* * * *
We all believe what we are capable of believing.
* * * *
Perceptions are but glimpses of imaginary notion.
* * * *
Why is it necessary to believe in anything?
* * * *
Nothing like a true-believer to get your head shaking no.
* * * *
How can awareness ever be tamed by the myriad values born of any imaginary paradigm?
* * * *
An imaginary existence from which all perception is parlayed real and true.
* * * *
The difference between you and anyone or anything else is imaginary.
* * * *
Un-imagine yourself; un-imagine your entire existence ever happened.
* * * *
Consciousness is but a quantum plaything.
* * * *
You are awareness aware-ing the dream of consciousness.
* * * *
Somebody else’s dream.
* * * *
Why participate in anything, why contribute to anything you do not believe?
* * * *
The human mind wherein delusion abounds.
* * * *
The future-past ever resides in the imaginary now.
* * * *
Will the true believers still praise their deities when their entitlements dissolve?
* * * *
Is it god that is dead, or all the religions carving on their speculations?
* * * *
And what have you done with your dream?
* * * *
Rest on your laurels until they rot from the weight of vain notion.
* * * *
Hope is the longing to which the superstitious subscribe.
* * * *
Imagined self is not true Self.
* * * *
Imagination, illusion, same thing.
* * * *
The tyranny of selfishness, of greed, of ignorance, of absurdity, is unending.
* * * *
Consciousness assumes continuity to a dream that has none.
* * * *
What you imagine your Self to be, you are not.
Prior to consciousness, prior to all quantum shenanigans, awareness is.
* * * *
When awareness focuses upon its translation, the quantum cloud crystalizes into illusion.
* * * *
A dream, to which the only continuity is the assumption of imagination.
* * * *
How many creatures abiding their dreamtime existence are as lonely as human beings?
* * * *
No universe is more than an imaginary quantum dream.
* * * *
You imagine, therefore you imagine you are.
* * * *
Imagination is all.
* * * *
The relativity of subjectivity morphs, permutates, in every way imaginable.
* * * *
Imagination rules imaginary kingdoms.
* * * *
Imagination is imagination, no matter how rational its flights of fancy.
* * * *
Continuity is the first and last assumption of imagination.
* * * *
Consciousness is the parasite; awareness, the host.
* * * *
Imaginary friends, more imaginary friends, even more imaginary friends.
* * * *
Dreams of glory, more dreams of glory, even more dreams of glory.
* * * *
Quantum dreaming, more quantum dreaming, even more quantum dreaming.
* * * *
Breathless absurdity, more breathless absurdity, even more breathless absurdity.
* * * *
Perceptions, more perceptions, even more perceptions.
* * * *
Absurdity and horror, more absurdity and horror, even more absurdity and horror.
Breadcrumbs
A mystery pretending to be a human being, to be an earthling, to be a cosmic being.
A mystery pretending to be a white-male-labels-unending American.
A mystery that happened to happen, no reason known.
* * * *
Believe me, there is no expectation herein that anything in the human drama will change.
I am just reflecting on whatever comes to mind, posing a wide melee of thoughts.
I hold out little hope that our cancerous species is even remotely capable
Of reigning in its passionate mind and myriad instinctual drives.
My predictions for the future are not in any way optimistic.
More of the same-old-same-old is more than a little probable,
But only for as long as Mother Nature condescends our existence.
* * * *
Yet another reason why I need to find a cave and never pretend to be a human being again.
* * * *
If there is some sort of personal deity, as so many incline to believe,
Then, pray tell, answer me this: Where did he/she/it/whatever come from?
Granted, this quantum mystery had to begin somehow, sometime, somewhere,
But some Santa-Claus-heaven-hell fiction does not slice the mustard.
And do not get me started on the alien speculation advocates.
This orb is a garden enough to do it on its own.
* * * *
These many thoughts merely point out what seems obvious to these eyes.
What outcome they may, or likely will not serve in bringing about,
Are the choices of consciousness that play out in every mind.
* * * *
You may say that I'm a dreamer, but I'm not the only one.
* * * *
Having for all practical purposes written off the human species,
I really should cease and desist from further commentary,
But no, I blather on and on, basking in the play of wit,
Such as it is in this temporal gray-matter dream.
It is, indeed, a waste of time, but what else is time for?
* * * *
Just shake my head at anyone who truly believes
Humankind will ever get off this planet in any meaningful way.
And what is the friggin' point of colonies on the Moon or Mars or anywhere else,
That will be unsustainable without absurdly expensive supply chains?
And with all the dominos a-quivering on this dying planet,
How will anything even get off the ground?
The absurdity is boggling.
* * * *
I have absolutely no interest
In being placed on some absurd pedestal,
Only to be dragged down by some small-minded mob.
* * * *
Not interested in creating anything organized or otherwise;
Only laying bare the reality of the quantum dream all endure.
* * * *
When it comes to dealing with the mystery of existence,
History seems to have dished up every possible delusion imaginable.
These many thoughts are for those whose only real hunger
Is to discern the truth of it for themselves.
* * * *
Did I write these many thoughts?
Or did they inscribe themselves through me?
Another uninspiring example of don’t-know-don’t-care.
It just be a diversion, something that passes a portion of the dream.
* * * *
I am as alone in my dream as you are in yours; we are all alone, together.
* * * *
A brief, narcissistic existence, replete with fabricated, delusionary meaning,
Surrounded in all directions by an eternally infinite ocean of purposelessness.
* * * *
What I do is not necessarily what I imagine.
* * * *
The way I see it is the way I write it, and within you it is surely no different.
All differences are the dreamy perceptions of the sensory mind
Caught up in the time of its imaginary epic.
* * * *
I am the center of, the creator of, the witness to, my universe.
And unless every other form, alive or not, is a projection of my imagination,
You and everyone else is, too.
Fucking amazing.
* * * *
How much longer will I concern my Self with this world
And the absurdly, wretchedly insoluble human dilemma?
Rest assured, there will be no Noah in my last judgment.
* * * *
I am a liar, a cheat, a thief, and daily plot murder and mayhem
Between bouts of excessive debauchery and inordinate treachery.
But at least I am not a hypocrite more often than vain notion calls.
* * * *
My religion is awareness; consciousness is but imagination dreaming.
* * * *
No longer interested in all the dishonesty and delusion, sorry.
Just serving this wreck of a world in whatever way the day calls.
* * * *
Not a big believer that anyone is going to save anybody here or any elsewhere.
* * * *
I will never know what became of all this babble.
What I imagine of the future is that it will not in any way be pretty,
And all the chitter-chatter in the world will not put Humpty Dumpty back together again.
* * * *
These many thoughts began bubbling out in 1989
After a head and neck injury invoked by a miscalculated wave
While boogie boarding with my fifth-sixth grade class in Southern Kaliforny.
It was the finale of a short teaching phase, and the entrée to an assortment of switchbacks
In the ever-kaleiscoping wanderfest of imagination, in work and recreation and every other whatever,
That has materialized all this whimsical chitter-chatter into this quantum playground.
It has been my way to allow spontaneity to fashion this destiny.
* * * *
No interest in that level of absurdity anymore.
* * * *
Apologies to all you dreamy idealists,
But … if … if … if only …
Just ain’t enough.
Ya gotta wake up, man.
* * * *
Not at all in the mood for any man-made absurdities this day,
A lengthy wandering into the conclusion of which
Only a moderate dose of gin and tonic
Can comfortably navigate.
* * * *
Another meditative day for words of a random nature
To flow uninhibited from the matrix of consciousness.
* * * *
To discern what ends these words will meet, if any,
Is but an imaginary ponder only time will ever know.
* * * *
Editor’s notes are strewn throughout;
As many contingencies accounted for as imaginable.
The Hydra of the times to come, and of humanity’s response to it,
Is akin to accurately predicting any crap roll.
* * * *
Really neither for nor against, just sipping another pint of black gold,
Watching this touchy-feely, three-dimensional, illusory dream of time,
Play out its dusty theater of the absurd to whatever end Gaia allows.
* * * *
If you peer long into this mind,
You will find it as simple and complex
As the mortal dream of time in eternity allows.
* * * *
How many men use the word ‘love’
Because they fear the woman that chose them,
Or are still vainly hoping to get laid?
* * * *
Hope, the four-letter H-word; not one I subscribe to as often as possible.
* * * *
True believers can take all their political correctness,
And shove it back up the abyss from whence it came.
* * * *
Thoughts of Self and the dreamtime of this brief, mortal, illusory existence,
Both for my Self and that of any other wanderer who happenstances upon it.
* * * *
Really very little point in we commoners paying much attention to current events and such,
Especially as we have just about absolutely no say in anything in this beyond-absurd world.
* * * *
I imagine, therefore I imagine I am.
* * * *
Must have Missouri blood in me bones: I only believes it if I sees it.
Corollaries of Yaj Ekim
The True Believer:
Trust God
Yaj Ekim’s Corollory:
Yeah, to slowly, painfully, twist-and-turnfully, grind you back into oblivion.
* * * *
René Descartes:
I think, therefore I am.
Yaj Ekim's Corollary:
You imagine, therefore you imagine you are.
* * * *
Protagoras:
Man is the measure of all things:
Of the things that are, that they are,
Of the things that are not, that they are not.
Yaj Ekim's Corollary:
Man is the measurer of all dreams:
Of all dreams that are not, never were, will never be.
Possible Last Words & Epitaphs
So long, see you in your dreams
* * * *
Goodbye, absurd world
* * * *
Once upon a dream
* * * *
This dream, this cosmos, no longer exists
* * * *
No absurdity here
The Real is Discovering Series
The real light is discovering there is no light.
The real gray is discovering there is no gray.
The real dark is discovering there is no dark.
The real point is discovering there is no point.
The real before is discovering there is no before.
The real journey is discovering there is no journey.
The real creation is discovering there is no creation.
The real universe is discovering there is no universe.
The real quantum is discovering there is no quantum.
The real judgment is discovering there is no judgment.
The real and-so-on is discovering there is no and-so-on.
The real destruction is discovering there is no destruction.
The real awareness is discovering there is no awareness.
The real beginning is discovering there is no beginning.
The real unknown is discovering there is no unknown.
The real existence is discovering there is no existence.
The real beautiful is discovering there is no beautiful.
The real meaning is discovering there is no meaning.
The real formless is discovering there is no formless.
The real mystery is discovering there is no mystery.
The real purpose is discovering there is no purpose.
The real religion is discovering there is no religion.
The real nirvana is discovering there is no nirvana.
The real eternity is discovering there is no eternity.
The real process is discovering there is no process.
The real ecstasy is discovering there is no ecstasy.
The real known is discovering there is no known.
The real wealth is discovering there is no wealth.
The real source is discovering there is no source.
The real karma is discovering there is no karma.
The real power is discovering there is no power.
The real vanity is discovering there is no vanity.
The real agony is discovering there is no agony.
The real death is discovering there is no death.
The real belief is discovering there is no belief.
The real mind is discovering there is no mind.
The real space is discovering there is no space.
The real other is discovering there is no other.
The real fame is discovering there is no fame.
The real form is discovering there is no form.
The real good is discovering there is no good.
The real right is discovering there is no right.
The real after is discovering there is no after.
The real faith is discovering there is no faith.
The real path is discovering there is no path.
The real here is discovering there is no here.
The real view is discovering there is no view.
The real goal is discovering there is no goal.
The real time is discovering there is no time.
The real ugly is discovering there is no ugly.
The real now is discovering there is no now.
The real end is discovering there is no end.
The real evil is discovering there is no evil.
The real life is discovering there is no life.
The real you is discovering there is no you.
The real why is discovering there is no why.
The real who is discovering there is no who.
The real what is discovering there is no what.
The real when is discovering there is no when.
The real where is discovering there is no where.
The real how is discovering there is no how.