It's never what you think it is but it's always what you know. If every Buddhist killed the Buddha, there'd be no Buddhists—only Buddha. I mean it's not exactly dropping body-mind. It's more like renting.
Then again, what is body-mind if I don't think about it,
sailor. The world is doing everything in its power rubbing the red dust of the world out of
my eyes. Talk about tough love! Still, it's best to do some light reading—like mystery sutras—before one's eyes are opening.
All I know is consciousness. Like I was only told about my
birth. And the senses tell me everything appears as attributes of energy—light,
sound, smell, touch, taste—but everyone says the material opposite and I go believe them. I don't even want to think about their takes on death!
But Maya has a vital, crucial, consequential part to play in
self-awareness. Many parts in fact. Everyone.
Imagination—when released from its conditioning—is free to
picture self-awareness as it is—or as one imagines it to be—my private
Lankavatara—off the coast of Maine so to speak.
As self-awareness is so self-evident, it's easy to forget the
Dark Ages. In the blink of an eye is born a new belief. As they say, if
you're not going further, you're gone again. Even if Hunter S. Thompson never said
that, he said that.
Truthfully and experientially, all appears in consciousness.
But once there was a great notion otherwise. Always respect your roots. The
world scares you awake. Give thanks every night. Don't hurry absolution. It happens every early morning. Imagine self-awareness. As if I am the Light! Cameras! Projection!
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