Dream like Zhuangzi

I was taught to think the universe is other than myself. Hell, I was taught to think there even is a was.

After all, every cinematic encounter deconstructs the nuts and bolts of mass projection, but every story likes a story instead.

See, I know the space of instant manifestation and sudden reincarnation without a doubt, but I'm still learning timing.

And if science teaches me one thing about the space-time continuum, it's its holistic nature,

the universe and its uncertain inevitability of transformation, but nothing more.

What science hasn't yet to prove is that old old folktale: the other. In fact it’s just the opposite.

Listen, almost all translations of poetry writing from a point of view without a view have a point of view.

Therefore, burn this before reading. Zhuangzi utterly transforms the butterfly effect.

Lalla Awakens Two: 2. the channel is choked

You’re like a royal swan whose voice is silenced.

But who has taken what away from you?

The mill has stopped and the channel is choked

But the grain hasn’t fled from the miller.

~Lal Ded (tx-SR) [G-86]

Consciousness is Talking Consciousness

It's not division of the universal that's unnatural but universal consciousness identifying with some phenomenal division is,

to say the least, unhealthy, inviting consequences from that disinherited aspect of myself—some call this karma. Seeing through it is enlightening.

Seeing through the personal happens suddenly, spontaneously, without the microscopic so-called doings of an unrealistic person—

some call this satori or the grace of the guru. Consciousness is talking consciousness to consciousness!

Love can't bring down empires but sees right through them. Jesus died for my embodiment. I call this truth individually universal.

 


footnotes
sages and mages and christ oh my!
the case of mistaken identity.
samsara is nirvana yes it is.
profound revelation.
consciousness and the power of three
for yours and mines of curiosity.

crosby stills matisse shankara and wallace stevens

icarus never flew too close to the sun, silly. icarus the sun!

dare to be!

in the name of knowing all doing has nothing to do with being—

the only mantra is the emperor of i am.

footnotes for the law one.
i fought the law but the law one
i shot the sheriff but i did not shoot duality
jesus mary joseph holy is trimurti
individually universal coming to a download near you
there is no becoming there are no words for tao
oh wow! oh wow! oh wow!

the last footnotes

can i hear you say individually universal!

my sweet lord s/he's so fine.

i am that is the best medicine amen.

number nine number nine number nine

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.