By May the Tenth

A butterfly in 1967.

Tuesday afternoon tonight.

History may be written but only love is transmitted.

Dream the dream but love the one.

Science is good theory but bad science.

Self-awareness is inevitable because time is an illusion.

But because space appears, expect delays.

Caterpillars are creating their cocoons because.

When the great divide appears, you won't believe it.

No more words for now.

Spontaneous, transformative and one.

ED on Here

The Wild Child

"I pass death with the dying and birth with the new-wash'd babe, and am not contained between my hat and my boots" –Walt Whitman

Consciousness tells it like it is. Whether consciousness listens is the story. There's no commandments but compassion is the last judgment.

And loving death is the only way to truly live. For death is the mother of all concepts. And bhakti is the perfect deconstructor.

Like lilacs last and the cherry blossom—mayday the docks are emptying the river of wild child as if.

For the Merrimack is offspring of the Winnipesaukee and Pemigewasset— the smile of the great spirit and beautiful water in a high place.

Always Dreaming

Memory is the mirror in which pure awareness manufactures self-awareness. It's as if Narcissus turns himself into a pond to see the seed of hydrogen in water. So the rings of space-time are like cross sections of a tree that always stands.

What if the princess falls in love with a public frog making mizu no oto every night? Evolution isn't what you think it is but so am I. And lilacs by the roadside is the beauty truth forgets.

Venus and Mars are out tonight but Mercury is the secret knowing. One sees the light by deconstructing shadows. So relax. The Tao doesn't take the worship of false idols personally.

deuces and one-eyed jacks

universal consciousness

identifying

with a part

of the universal

is personal

slash divisional—

war, insanity

and suffering.

whatever,

give me more!

because

the two of hearts is played,

the one-eyed jack appears—

who is the ace of spades?

Transcreating Christ: Do unto Oneself

Ask and you are given. 

Seek and one is finding. 

Knock and be opened.

For every asking is receiving 

and the seeking is the finding 

and the knocking is being opened as oneself.

Or is there a person among you, 

if your child asks for bread, 

will be giving instead a stone?

Or if asked for a fish, offer snake?

So do unto oneself as you would do for others.


Note: Obviously, I recognize that this is a somewhat radical transcreation of Matthew 7:7-12, but one I feel is not only necessary, but inevitable, if one sees 7:11 as some poor priestly interpretation of the wisdom in the previous lines, and so not included here ("If ye then, being evil, know how to give good gifts unto your children, how much more shall your Father which is in heaven give good things to them that ask him?"). Once this is seen, it is also seen that 7:12 is not some lone line sticking out as a sore thumb and translated as a golden rule, but instead is directly connected to 7:9-10 and the beautiful two lines before those. Nisargadatta Maharaj, the great Indian sage, says, “If you think that Buddha, Christ or Krishnamurti speak to the person, you are mistaken. They know well that the vyakti, the outer self, is but a shadow of the vyakta, the inner self, and they address and admonish the vyakta only.” Thus 7:12 is not some gilded rule of personal conduct but exactly that address to the inner self, oneself. Let Christ be Christ.

Transcreating Christ:Christ Consciousness is Non-volitionaland All-encompassing

How does Christ Consciousness come to be?

It's as if we humans cast seeds in the ground, 

and while we’re sleeping and rising night and day, 

the seed is springing up and growing in a way

we're not aware, for the earth is executing

without our doing a thing—first the blade, then the ear,

then the full grain within the ear. And when the crop is ripe,

one is sending for the sickle presently for the harvesting.

  

And to what shall we compare this Christ Consciousness? 

It’s like a mustard seed—

which when planted in the ground is the smallest

of all the seeds on earth. But once the seed is sown, 

it rises to become the greatest of all the greens,  

and puts forth its all-encompassing branches

where even the birds of the heavens take refuge.

.

Transcreating Christ:Parables of the Lamp and True Measure

Is a lamp placed within a measuring container

or underneath a full body recliner? 

Is it not set instead on a stand

in the heart of one's living room

where nothing is hidden except to be made aware

and nothing is secret but to be revealed?

 

The true measure with which one measures

is measured out to one and always more is given one,

for the one who has all, still more is further given.

But for the one who has nothing,

even that nothing one has

will surely pass away.

Transcreating Christ: The Parable of the Sower

In life the sower is always sowing

seeds of wisdom as natural as can be.

First seeds fall upon the highway of your world

and little birds of large appetite rumor it away.

Next seeds fall upon hard ground of human knowledge

where the soil is superficial but the grain appears to grow without delay,

yet since this earth has little depth of true intelligence,

the first clear dazzling light of day overwhelms the early growth,

and as these seedlings have no true roots, they wither.

Subsequently seeds descend among the weeds

where no compassion tends the soil

and thorns of great hostility chokes them all away.

Yet there comes a time seeds land among responsive ground

and bears its fruit to thirty times, one-hundred times,

ten-thousand times, this great awakening—

whoever has ears to hear, listen.

1704222310 or denial is the river

Once upon a time, she thought she was a person, and every now and then forgets she's not. She used to wonder why her god condemned the world to suffering violence and war. Now she knows there's other definitions for division.

She can't deny her being although she only uses such possessive pronouns in a manner of speaking about that which appears to matter. In order to be self-aware, one must first be unaware, and her earthly guardians, lovingly or otherwise, ensured she was.

Every now and then, she felt as if there was no then, as if a river were to suddenly appear within an Arizona desert. Then she read about her consciousness and knew she was that consciousness and consciousness is pure awareness being self-aware and that is that.

The grass is green. The sky is blue. The sun is yellow. I am being red. Every leaf is testament to that unknown and absolutely sweet Marie the wind is crying.

Not only is beauty truth and truth is beauty but red-winged blackbirds, cherry blossoms, orioles, and absolutely self-awareness. Nothing is as it appears to be said Alice in some laundromat at Second Street and Vine.

Twenty years of schooling and I never made the first shift, says Alice to Bob Dylan. There is nothing you can do about it said Alice to the caterpillar busy deconstructing its construction on the way to self-awareness.

Or is it just a butterfly she sees one day within a dream up high upon the blue ridge. Another day, another singular satori. One day a daughter comes from her own body and she begins to know the absolute significance of division in understanding non-duality.

Mind-training is just another name for deconstruction, a most earnest postmodernism. Deny the thought of being all you want but denial is the river.