six footnotes in four directions on one urn

footnote the first—see pure awareness being self-aware.
footnote one not two—being is the only knowledge
and this knowledge is in being the unknown.
three—paul is always taken out of context
by those who only read the roman lines
between his unconditional love.

fore! i've been a puppet,
a pauper, a pirate,
a poet, a pawn
and o shiva!
the three and two,
it's samurai puck, exclamation point—

imagine shakespeare meeting basho.
the light is seeing through the film
appearing in a consciousness
dear to you o six six six!
for the life of jesus is a mythic story of the experiential truth
written in a roman-empire-safe encryption—

to transmit this understanding—
consciousness is primary—
fundamental—
secretly—
but
the papal will be people.

An Epistle on a Grecian Urge and Urge and Urge

Consciousness is my name and self-awareness is my story. Love is what I'm called while on the open road. And my song is written in this form of a universe. If a child asks 'what is a tree,' does it take a life to answer?

Sometimes I wear a black hat, sometimes white. The man in the black hat only knows what he isn't. The man in the white hat only knows what he is. And the man without a hat is sleeping by the campfire.

What happens on the way to Damascus doesn't just stay on the way to Damascus. It is the way. The world is like Death Valley and love is like the horse that we ride in on.


A philosopher speaks his mind. A poet speaks in tongues. Personal deconstruction is a lot like jazz in one is mostly listening to the silent spaces it creates.

We gather in this midsummer night's dream on the edge of an ancient pond. The bow is bent and drawn. Drop body-mind. If emptiness is form, then thought is an empty gun.

Christ, consciousness is resurrected in supreme attention. Not some physical entity! May the thousand-petaled lotus be the crown of your creation. May you be embodied and nondual.

Epistle to Starbucks

"The state in which both this and that are no longer known as opposites is called the Heart of the Way.  And from the stillness of such a pivot point, all movement and opposition is seen in their immeasurable transformations." ~Z (tr-sr)

It's not as if the people have created everything that's wrong on earth but the very concept of 'right and wrong' creates the people and their world—always the little lower layer. In other words, thought is not a cloud but a tool of self-awareness. Judgment is the cloud and the whole point behind Last Judgment.

This is not an argument for some relativistic viewpoint that right and wrong are simply interchangeable, although war says they obviously are. There is no right and wrong. Zhuangzi speaks the lower layer as I am. Myth is too—beautiful and true—that self-awareness is.

Is a color really right or wrong? What if leaves turned green in autumn? North and South is all the doing of the sun and not location, location, location. Oh my dear old Jung, thought may be universally unconscious but love is consciousness oneself.

Myth, like mind like thought, is a tool of self-awareness. Believing myth, scientific or religious, is what is unbelievable. Like Mayan Clouds of Special Knowing! There's one knowing in the world—unconditional—not of the world—like the highest love or lowest self-esteem—beyond description—

Tao is nameless—satcitananda—self-awareness is the ultimate omnipresence of the absolute godhead. Even Darwin says it's so. Confucius says there's right and wrong but Chuang Tzu dreams of butterflies, wood frogs, screech owl! I am or who am I? Self-awareness is naturally reflexive.

commentary to footnotes of 2nd epistle to myself

so call it tao

not some existential athesistic philosophic western scientific deep materialist religion founded on some theory of another

call the process self-inquiry or love

self-awareness appears to appear in every resurrection

and the universe appears before all thought but after love

so love the one you’re with apparently

Footnotes to Myself

It's like watching the detectives. Ooh they're so Buddhist. Mysticism is non-denominational. No name for Tao.

The new name for creed is theory. Meet the new boss. "You keep all your money in a big brown bag inside a zoo. What a thing to do!"

Look at it this way. Nothing always comes to something. Dead Man’s Curve is out on Highway Sixty-one too.

The great unknown supernatural pure awareness is being known in natural evolutionary self-awareness and et cetera.

My god, materialism is the first one to declare force majeure. Another wave is landing on the seashore

after talking to the undertow. All I think are my projections. This is why compassion, love.

The Second Epistle to Myself

Curiosity only kills the first life of a cat. The direct path is not of the dream and thus goes straight through it. This is called embodiment. Or being in the world.

I don't know why, but of all Beatles songs, 'Baby You're a Rich Man' is always feeling like the first time I am seeing her. Self-awareness requires that descending into material complacency,

the hard turning of interior imperative intent, and realizing that this dreamwork is my omnipresent actuality of being self-aware. Every year the spring is turning into June.

I imagine reincarnation to be likewise. Another night, another dream for my awakening. From Radio Cold Mountain in the River, this song is going out tonight to all my beautiful ones. Love is in the house!

An Epistle to Myself

The way as I see it—the body-mind and its world is not to be renounced, but to be embodied as the supernode of my universal soft machine of self-awareness, and embraced for the revelatory dreamwork that it is. This doesn’t imply involving oneself in the affairs of the world. In fact, as Ramana Maharshi says—non-resistance is the highest way. And the Diamond Sutra says the bodhisattva frees by knowing there’s no bondage.

footnotes to epistle satcitananda baby

Awakening has that sudden element to it. It's called getting out of bed. Sailor Bob says what's wrong with right now if you don't think about it. No thought is love; nothing is an ethereal belief. God the parent, in order to form this more perfect union called self-awareness, dreams an impossible dream. Like Dawn Coyote!

Walking and talking is like chewing love at the same time. Love is beyond right and wrong sings every song. Love is beyond all intellectual argument and sister to crazy wisdom! Love is the sea of DNA in which nucleotides rise and fall.

The stand is universal; absolution happens to oneself. The wonder of intuition is before and after every mundane scientific fact. As the crow caws! Pure awareness is the self. Intent is self-inquiry. Self-awareness is the revelation.

Being is always the only time and place. Go intuit like instant karma. A bat out of samsara! I am Self.

Epistle to Ananda

In this reflexive mythic universe of self-awareness—as inert matter of the earth becomes organic, so does the personal awaken. All the suffering in samsara, each conceptual emotional disaster—like earthquakes and volcanoes, hurricanes and tornadoes, rip tides and tsunamis—is impersonal, inevitable, and all is well, all manner of thing is well. Concurrently, indifference is another kind of subtle personal belief—but love is like the fast track of my universal actuality—for it's manifest there is an evolutionary prime directive with unmanifest intent toward self-awareness. It's not absolutely nothing, Ananda.

In this reflexive mythic universe of self-awareness—

as inert matter of the earth becomes organic,

so does the personal awaken.

All the suffering in samsara,

each conceptual emotional disaster—

like earthquakes and volcanoes,

hurricanes and tornadoes,

rip tides and tsunamis—

is impersonal,

inevitable,

and all is well,

all manner of thing is well.

Concurrently,

indifference is a kind of subtle personal belief

—but love is like the fast track of my universal actuality—

for it's manifest there is an evolutionary prime directive with unmanifest intent toward self-awareness.

It's not absolutely nothing,

Ananda.

Nondual Devotion C180602

Being loves form and form loves being. It's a marriage made in self-awareness. O when lilacs last in the driveway bloomed, I can't remember! For after the happening, there's only the memory of something that never happened.

The windows are open to a rare night in June. A pedestal fan is acting like a ceiling fan. I am holding a Pilot Metropolitan Retro Plum with Leopard Accent fountain pen filled with Montblanc ‘The Beatles’ psychedelic purple ink.

The next thing I know my neighbor is talking loudly on her phone outdoors. I shut the windows and turn on the air conditioning. The fan remains the same. There's no denying all appears in consciousness or its expression, love, or any other way of naming being.

For example, one of my most beloved memories is my granddaughter softly saying ~flower~ in one colorful syllable less than three weeks ago. It’s like being present at the creation. With no mind but all love, I am recording the echoes of that distant ohm of lightning.

For living is not to plan as my daughter is forever reminding me a dozen years ago. In other words, the reflexive universe is intending self-awareness with absolute intent. In the name of the valley spirit, I bow to the way. Shh!