Scenic Views Appearing in Consciousness

Lucid dreaming in the dream not of the dream and love the dream

as if the dreaming is myself—

at first projection is the dreaming unaware the dreaming is projecting

what's been projected onto one as one's conditioning—

karma is this first projecting unaware appearing in the present

manifesting in awareness being self-aware like coming back to me I see.

Deconstruction is the mind undoing mind but mind cannot undo what

isn’t known, for being is the only known known by that unknown—

self-awareness.

All religions are opinions—post-modernism is the last religion but

it's still religion—priests are operating inquisitions in its name.

The true deconstructor deconstructs oneself—quasi-inquisitors

demolish others in attempts to build their own alt-folk religion.

Note 1: the science of consciousness is the newest folk religion. Note 2:

all appears in consciousness—seeing this is called no view on views.

Note 0: one's own causation is the real material the lucid sculptor uses

in the name of loving further.

Note -1:

modern dreams are drawn with words—ancient dreams are drawn

in images—every image is a story of the gods—every name is just

another ghost—like one mistaking Moby Dick for love.

Chorus:

all appears in consciousness

—seeing this is called 

no view on views—

Underture:

one can't give it away—

there's appears to be a cost for everything—

that is why we choose to suffer.

Libretto:

respect the solar system as it is

but the objective is

seeing thru it

making of a myth

unbelievable

understandably unknown

ah zatoichi!

Emergency Commentary

What me worry?

Time is the glass in an hourglass.

No view on views the colored girls sing.

God is dead. Long live the absolute unknown!

Call me self-awareness.

It doesn’t take an Einstein to recognize a dream. It takes lucidity.

Buddha Nature. Power of Now.

Instant Tao!

non-attachment, non-attachment, non-attachment

who am i?

not a cloud in the sky.

how many times do i have to say, i am that?

In Case of Glass, See Through It

It was the night of Nixon's resignation, Jackie Wilson Said. It was the afternoon of Yamadera, Basho wrote.

It was the start of time, it was the end of time, but now is just as good or bad a time to see through time.

Every second is conceptual but first is always now, the non-conceptual conception, or so to speak, the gateless gate.

As seeing through a thought is the art of contemplative meditation, seeing through first thought is the art of being.

Busy being born is busy being dying. But being without this business is God the Absolute seeing through this being.

This process appears to be a process within the process, but there is no process here and now. Being is spontaneously self-aware and absolutely empty.

This is called direct path. Earnestness.

Instant Tao.

In other words, following love at the speed of light.

Questions of abiding, non-abidance, or other states of this existence are questions only valid within this process.

Self-awareness is the Holy Ghost.

The holy spirit is enlightening intent.

Crucify Yin, Kill Yang, Be Tao

Render unto empire all the sacred empirical rules of doing and render unto oneself complete unknowing and nondoing. Religion is to people as the recluse is to consciousness.

Deconstruct conditioning as if you're crucifying Jesus or just killing Guatama. It's what they would have wanted you to do before becoming lost in some empirical translation.

To know what one has been conditioned to believe, in other words, to actually know, one shall forget what one is busy to remember too. Deconstruct conditioning while trusting in the only knowing.

And the sun set 11 minutes ago—it's kind of like I’m living in a moonshine dream gone further as I’m knowing it's a vision I’m intending for the sun of self-awareness now.

I'm moony for you! Intent is like a vision. Self-awareness now. The old world is dying. Grow the new world in your heart and retweet. First August crickets like a swing low sweet humming electrocution.

Karma is just attending to what I’ve started in this universe. Onward intent. Winter, spring, summer, and fall—everything I do is just a response to my call.

If I’m being public like a frog, forgive the feedback—angelic birdsong. All dreams are witnessed in this consciousness. I shall call that which isn't witnessed in this consciousness—deep sleep or god the great unknown.

Beautiful dreaming is a power of enlightenment. Frodo lives! Tao is this and Tao is that but this is never that. Dogs are cats and cats are dogs but raining cats and dogs is getting colder.

Universal consciousness is not for sale although post-modern mythologies are cheap. Faith is just another name for manifestation.

Let the higher take one higher just as if there's nothing higher than Denali or lower than Death Valley. This place is not named Tao.

Revalation doesn't happen on a weekday or a weekend. Revelation is not only knowing what isn't but also unknowing what is!

If nothing else, there's time. But love is everything or else. Love is not Corinthian. Love is not a letter. Love is not the last belief.

Sample like this "Earth's the right place for love: I don't know where it's likely to go better." Consciousness speaks one language.

Let me tell this story. Love is great intent undoing evolutionary knots. Evolution begins with war and ends in self-awareness.

But there is a more direct route without all the suffering, if you please. Consciousness makes the body like internal combustion makes ideas.

Even being is a concept.

Is it ceiling or leaves?

Imagine enlightenment.

Intend your dream and vice versa.

Evolution is the best mythology!

Be Christ. Be Buddha.

Ode to Eight Eight Seven Renga

The actuality of self-awareness leaves behind

a trail of human beings,

as if exhaust were form, and intake, emptiness.

Accordingly, scientific materialism is a way about the past

as religious fundamentalism is a way about the future.

But neither is Tao.

In other words,

the mountain didn't make the sky and the sky doesn't make the mountain.

Spontaneity is a motherless child.

Spontaneity! Like absolute awareness being self-aware

and in this singular knowing is that unknowing all—

true meditation, real contemplation, as it is.

Snowflakes, Cherry Blossoms, Thunderstorms, Chrysanthemums— 

transformation is the beautiful speech of light,

relatively speaking.

Finally, self-awareness is absolute love,

and all other loves are either 

the colorful gods within its spectrum

or she's like a rainbow being—

beautiful being is the only concept knowable,

and in its unconditional truth, 

the clouds are parting.

So a rose is a red wheelbarrow is crimson

and clover in objectless awareness.

And self-awareness is 

the boundary-less boundary

within this dream state of these states of being.

Thus speaks 

the wordlessness 

of being—

like sand through an hourglass

intentionally resting in

that diamond of absolute awareness—

cicadas
of self-awareness

crying!

.

third koan

after the tree frogs  but before the crickets, there's a full stop of silence.

actually there's no dividing being but there's thinking it,

only being is knowing. dividing knowledge is the stuff of all illusions, dreams, soliloquies, and other existentialist philosophies.

it beats all that scientific materialism is the latest anti-christ

but love is always love.

love is neither material nor personal but consciousness talking to consciousness. everything else is just appearances in this consciousness.

by the way, everyone I ever loved is always by my side informing me they're always here.

love transforms but never dies, look. one is oneself only. and love is only oneself remembering this, together.

one can take the bhakti way

and one can take the via negativa.

but one is one despite what yellow road within the wood is taken.

which road shall I go down tonight?

the unsinkable always sinks.

the unthinkable is better left unsaid, my love.

the past is bad memory. the future is good imagination.

whatever the latest scientific division of time is, it isn't now.

the resignation of richard nixon. that moment when you walked "across the room / you make my heart go / boom boom boom" jackie wilson said

no future. only the great intent of nowe like true north.

if one is working with the power of love in the name of great intent and loving love is the power of two, then imagine the power of a trinity!

instead of scientific materialism, let's try curiouser and curiouser, children.

i surrender in the name of great intent.

ego therefore I'm gone.

respect the concept of the universe while being universal.

listen. enlightenment is just another name for self-awareness. but belief is known by ten thousand names.

write as if

four walls—ten thousand

memories—no views on views

on ten thousand views

o grand canyon o

yosemite black and white

matsushima o!

on christian contemplation

footnotes to the second koan of unknowing

And commentary...

As it is is not what I was taught but get over it.

"That alone, the Absolute, You, Know! and not this which they worship."

Sometimes I live in the river.

Sometimes I live on the riverbank.

Sometimes I get a great notion

to drop body-mind—fade to blank.

Great intent

appears as good

or bad to those

who live within

the world of yin

and yang. But know

the Book of Job 

and who am I?

The fountain of youth is simply being.

I discovered myself in Acadia

and believed its mountains

and great gray sea

was me, and so

returned

almost every single

New England season.

It was after Sky City but before Santa Fe.

Coyote on Interstate 40!

I am...unborn.

Loon, wind, water. Maine!

the second koan of unknowing

not to state

the obvious

nor divide

the indivis-

ible,

but this

is how

I see

that—

not exactly

infinite

but quite

spontaneous.

obviously

indivisible,

practically unknown.

as it has been written,

so it is I write.

for this

is my gospel of

intent.

every sacrifice

and desire

are fractions of

intent.

if one

were to

sudden-

ly

awaken,

i

would

be

lucid.

nothing is lost.

nothing is found.

(not to state the obvious nor divide the indivisible, but this is how I see that—not exactly infinite but quite spontaneous. obviously indivisible, practically unknown. as it has been written, so it is I write. for this is my gospel of intent. every sacrifice and desire are fractions of intent. if one were to suddenly awaken, I would be lucid. nothing is lost. nothing is found.)