The Art of Way and Aviary Metaphor

Memory is a rabbit hole. Being is the way. Belief is like the manufacture of a way made out of memory.

Way isn't made of memory. Way is not a form. The way is natural, transformative, intentional, spontaneous, and self-aware.

The way is not a thought of some design. You cannot memorize the way but love it. You cannot objectify the way but be it.

You can’t even name the way without dividing way and the way is not divisible. Call this the first paradox.

The way is like the spring. First there is a flower. Then there is a metaphor. Last there is a name. Experience, art, and empire.

There's a bird of black and white at rest but orange flame in flight. Call it the valley spirit.

one who lives by memory dies by memory.

memory is the stuff of form. transformation is the stuff of emptiness.

instructors teach. knowing loves.

the name of original sin is any name.

art remembers experience. names forget.

empires only rise and fall. spirit is and isn’t.