Lalla Awakens Two: 1. these articulate pieces

Without a moment of trust nor hair of hope,

I, Lalla, drink my inner voice as if intoxicating wine,

And that darkness is seized and then brought down

To be torn and rendered into these articulate pieces.



~Lal Ded (tx-SR) [G-104]

Ode in Consciousness

This blessed headlessness, this perfectly experiential space, this unbelievably beyond-a-thought

and all-encompassing omnipresence, this consciousness—all things believed to be material are just appearances

within this consciousness and only in this consciousness, despite that trick of memory making an objective world

appear to be there every morning when it's merely some beliefs in memory not erased by the little death of sleep.

A rose is a rose is a rose not because it is a rose but one is thinking it's a rose. In truth, the only rose is the rose

of consciousness. And the flower laughed. Look, if a as in all equals consciousness and the absolute is being, see—

this kiss of consciousness is spaceless, timeless, depthless, water cannot wet it nor can the wind dry it.

Dig, consciousness is the only knowledge and what passes as all knowledge in the world is really just a rabbit hole—

seeing through one’s thoughts is a virtuous practice but try thinking without consciousness if you need a second opinion.

Revelations Three by Three by Eleven Tao

Hosanna to the flawless diamond dream! Followers divide! Pathfinders subtract!

Philosophers and scientists laboriously attempt to solve for X while the sage is effortlessly being the unknown. But I'm the same old words in a different story. Part-time contemplative. Spaced-out questionnaire. Are you X too?

Ask not if thou wouldst die for some conditional opinion. Ask if that opinion is ineffectively killing Tao. I am trying not to lie to others—it confuses my projection and resultant manifestation. After all, mathematics is the heart seen darkly.

The closer the mind is getting to some breakthrough, the more that consciousness floods the cave. The world will once again convince itself that revelations is not the natural state. I write this now as a reminder that it is.

Every revelation comes with a new set of words. Call it poetry for that is the only language for poetry. Listen, it's not taught in schools. A tree is never born. Thus transformation comes before and after every fall. November.

Northeast by No Mind

No knowledge knows the bliss of being. To see that silence is the saint of the river, listen to the wind.

With such a northeast gale, there is no question—trees are falling tonight without a sound.

No-mind is not just nothing; after all, the mind appears in consciousness, does it not?

By the way, bliss is to happiness as consciousness is to mind as e = mc² is to materialism.

And focusing attention is to consciousness as pure awareness is to the absolute as a flower is to ground.

The mind can only know being. All the rest is make-believe. But being cannot know the unknown. The unknown knows being.

Only in being does the unknown know itself—the first time ever I saw my original face, I was looking in another mirror, another day.

The Great Dreamer

A dream, although so obviously an illusion in awaking, appears to be extremely real within the dreaming.

In dreaming, a person and its world isn’t just a co-dependent relationship but a dependent arising.

In the morning, the self-evident direct path to awakening is in identifying with the dreamer.

In fact, consciousness is the great dreamer and conceiver, god the artful child

and immaculate conception of god the absolute parent—this lineage is presently direct.

The Act of Listening to Undistorted Amplification

Body-mind amplifies consciousness to such a great degree, there is distortion naturally. Seeing through distortion is the great intent of life if not the meaning.

Distortion comes in many kinds of thought but deconstruction is like Shiva. After consciousness talks to consciousness, consciousness learns to walk again. Call this reincarnation.

As consciousness is understanding body-mind amplifying consciousness through such divine imagination as the Acts of Listening to Undistorted Amplification—

consciousness hears what consciousness is actually saying. Call this process self-awareness or I am That. In this self-reflexive universe, there are essentially seven stages

but innumerable work procedures. Like there are ten thousand grandmothers in my naked imagination. First there is a body, then there is nobody, then embodiment.

I scream and Silence falls to Autumn ode

Transformation is transcendent. Verily there are ten thousand seasons but autumn feels like most of them.

The other day was overcast and the early changing leaves across the river burned—

not because of vivid actuality but memory lit the shore with ten thousand words.


Today the sun was out and every tree was in a different stage of colorful deconstruction—

every leaf a monarch in the making. I guess the only empress is the empress of emptiness.

All of this is playing on the silver screen of consciousness where 'who is born' and 'what will die' are just imaginary numbers.


When awake, consciousness is all knowing, but deep asleep, I don't know. Trick and treat.

Memory is the mirror in which the absolute is self-aware. Undivided, loving, apolitical, and intentional, imagination is divine.

And beyond belief. So in conclusion this haiku—a leaf is falling absolutely here.

To Be

Neither progressive nor conservative but as it is, deconstructing consciousness is next to godliness.

Every clown is knowing there’s a time to leave the bus. One doesn’t have a say in self-awareness.

They say compassion is greater than judgment and there's addition by subtraction, paradox not paradigm.

Belief is unbelievable. Transformation is the mirror. In unknowing, self-awareness is as being knows—it isn't absolute.

Every morning I'm reminded dreams don't die; they just fade away. The shark jumps over the moon.

In self-awareness, enlightening intent is divine imagination dreaming there's free will and vice versa.

Bodhisattvas get the urge for going and gone gone. Beyond the law of gravity, the heart doesn't have a center.




footnotes
1. if everything appears in consciousness, what is consciousness?
2. opinions are for tricks.  love is higher proof.
3. if logic is exponential conditioning and  love is perfectly illogical
4. turn, turn, turn
5. scientific materialism is the original dumbing down
6. try to meditate on the penultimate
7. as it is. the diamond sutra says the bodhisattva saves by knowing there is nothing to be saved. as you were.

The Epistle of the Personal, Self-awareness, and the Beautiful Truthful Universe

The personal is divided from the universal manifestation of the absolute and its world can never be at peace. The personal is war, period.

There's nothing wrong with this of course. It's just a phase in the evolutionary process of self-awareness. There's a flower at the end of every gun.

Note the social isn't universal and there is no future world to be inhabited by higher consciousness. Omnipresent being is now and going into it is paradoxically an individual endeavor.


Self-awareness isn't nothing and it's not an 'it' as well except for convenience of this communication. It's my omnipresent understanding of myself so full of pure potentiality

that within the ever-present process of itself, it appears to be this universe to the mirroring mind, which is a space-time work procedure intending towards such self-awareness.

Note, self-awareness is such an innate quality of absolute pure awareness, I'm like Nisargadatta's flowing life between everything and nothing, love and wisdom, unmanifest is manifest, manifest is unmanifest, gone gone, gone beyond.


Leaves fall. There is a tree! Trees die. There is an earth! The earth is deconstructing. There's the sun I am! Black whole. Texas tea.

In the self-reflexive universe, there's an intentional turning from material imprisonment to life, from thought-belief—be it scientific materialism or fundamental religion—to being, from unawareness to self-awareness, pure awareness, and so on.

Nothing in the universe is superfluous, even a dream. Everything intends to self-awareness, even the warring changes on the surface of the mirror of the mind. See flowers. Note stars.

Paraverse 2018

Grow your own myth or die in the one they gave you. The world is where the broken-hearted gather. Wisdom without love is just belief in nothing and belief is nothing to begin with.

Even denying being is a proof of being. Division in any universe is illusion of course, and those believing otherwise are unbelievable. I'm just a turquoise pen with sky-blue ink—are you nobody too?

May you stay forever apolitical. Let me spare you all psychology, spirituality, and science: death is fear; being is love; self-awareness is the seventh son of a seventh son.

I searched mountains for myself but I'm here. Dearest, imagine self-awareness; Love, myself. One not being self-aware is busy devolving—the school of transcendental luminism underground purple desert air.

So the personal has a shadow, do you think? Any expression other than love is slave to one's conditioning. One is love. Two is transformation. Three is self-awareness. Zero is unknown.