Divining Mind

The mind is a phenomenal tool of consciousness, in consciousness, and by consciousness.

Its function is division. Its subject is absolute awareness. Its aftermath is self-awareness.

In this mystical process of self-awareness, the mind temporarily identifies with itself.

It’s world becomes a hell of division, violence, suffering, discomfort, disease, and disorder.

This is not wrong. This is not a great mistake. This is the necessary mess of cleaving, bottoming, turning.

Meanwhile, consciousness is always talking to consciousness, being being, unconditional love,

the Satguru telling itself to help the mind disidentify with mind, see through the world of mind,

rest in awareness, and knowingly participate in this divine imagination of self-awareness.

At the Crossroads of Consciousness

The matrix of unidentified bliss identifies with a temporary node of this oscillating bliss and thus a space-time of the pleasure/pain cycle begins. Call this the Disneyfication of bliss.

The wind is like a freight train this morning blowing past the stations of the cross in oscillating gusts of power outages and pleasing undertones. Freight train, freight train, gone so fast.

Matrix identification with node precedes the growth of body-mind. Religions have been founded on this ephemeral cross road. The node becomes a knot. The wave becomes a snake.

Who is Li Erh Tan

Mind your own mind.

Is the name of Lao Tzu, Li Erh Tan?

Is the name of Tao Te Ching, Lao Tzu?

Is the name of Tao, nameless?

Then who is Li Erh Tan?

Project deprojection.

On Fractal Dimensions of Dream States

The daydreamer wakes from the mid-winter’s night dream but what wakes from the daydreamer?

Once there was a butterfly. Then the son awoke and knew there was the dreaming of a butterfly.

Suddenly I wake and know this dreaming of a son. In the name of witness, son, and holy butterfly.

Look, between the witness and the butterfly, there is a fractal dimension of dreaming.

And I've been one acquainted with the scenic apparitions from Monterey to Morro Bay.

Apocalypse Consciousness

First, consciousness.

Midway in the journey of our life, consciousness loses consciousness intentionally.

Lost, like lost in the bedrock of scientific materialism or religious fundamentalism.

Lost, like lost in thought, like whirlpools in the current, like rabbit holes in the matter of our mind.

Last, consciousness knowing consciousness is the apocalypse,

the apocalypse of this universe in self-awareness. At long last, love. Satori in timelessness.

Embodying the Ouroboros

Universal consciousness incorporated, how can we help? This is called embodying the ouroboros: understanding consciousness pervades the universe and the universe is in consciousness.

Like a fountain in which consciousness is the transistorizing water of life and this starry space is awareness reflecting in quicksilver spray.

Mother earth, father sky, the ancients called it. Authur calls this electric dragon the reflexive universe. This has been my current myth. Please call again.

footnotes

uci and icu and we are all the ouroboros.

feel the zing. witnessing from space.

meditation is to lucid dreaming as divine imagination is to self-awareness. this is my current mission statement.

Autobiography Number Nine

The course that can be taught is not the course, of course. If the course being taught is about teaching, then dropping out of the school of education was my only course.

Absolute awareness. Choiceless awareness. Affectionate awareness. Self-awareness. There are 10,000 metaphors and modifiers but there’s only one verb. Not to be or not to be but being.

Look, if one cannot know that unknown, be that unknown. Being the known will only drive you crazy. I know. I tried it. My 19th nervous breakdown was a doozy.

three footnotes to autobiography number nine

dropping out of college was the greatest thing i learned in college. that and modern drama.

the real tragedy of hamlet is this unquestioned assumption there's a choice.

there's one conspiracy and one deep state. misty watercolor memories of the way we were.

Zing of Space

Feel the zing of space. That isn’t nothing. Nothing is as conceptual as something but this is more like feeling, a nonconceptual knowing, intuition. Being.

Self-awareness and awareness are not two but together make beautiful music. Like Zhuangzi's Great Clod.

Like the north rim from the south rim of Grand Canyon. Like Half Dome from Glacier Point over Yosemite Valley. Like Downeast Maine.

Call this reflexive universe the power of three. Denying, affirming, and reconciling. Material, spiritual, and nondual.

Getting Off at Bliss and Energy

Deconstructing samsara deconstructs nirvana too. Samsara deconstructs. The art of deconstruction is knowing when to leave the viewpoint of samsara.

One not trained in love, forgiveness, and compassion, will not know when to jump. This is why you need to pay your dues, grasshopper.

This is why the guru sends the secret seeker to the kitchen for thirteen years. I was a working class hero for thirty-five years myself.

I dedicate this prophecy to Kurt Cobain who didn’t want to double-track his voice until reminded of John Lennon doing so. Call it bliss or call it energy but get off here.

Using the sense of sight as a metaphorical background for consciousness is counterproductive. It’s more affect than effect. As energy is not an emotion but emotion is occluded energy.

Blissfulness is not happiness. Happiness is occluded blissfulness. But all communication is translation. Consciousness witnessing is more like loving than seeing.

Psychotropic materialism is the name of the latest crash site. But manifestation is the rationalization of love. Try treating disease with the ease of imagination, my love.

Satori in Franconia Notch

The mind is like murk in the lake of being. In crystal mountain water, the ground is all there is.

There’s a deep basin in the Pemi of the White Mountains that forms a pool called The Pool.

It’s forty feet deep and you can see the bottom as clear as the earth around it.

Cold Mountain writes: "this is such a still restful place; the sun is slant and shadows of trees

grow enhanced; I can see the bottom ground of mind—a lotus is emerging from the sediment."

At seven I saw it in the state park called The Flume. Like looking through the eye of nature!

On that day, I first became, in the language of New England transcendentalism, a transparent eyeball.

A 13th century Christian mystic said, “the eye with which I see god is the same with which god sees me.

My eye and god’s eye is one eye, and one sight, and one knowledge, and one love.”

But look silence says it best.