The sea is real and its resonance is real but no wave is real.
As the absolute is real and universal consciousness is real
but personal consciousness is a dream within the dreamstate.
As another name for resonance is self-awareness,
another name for the dreamstate is evolution.
Dear buddha, the dream state has ten thousand dreams
as universal consciousness has ten thousand universes,
and each one has a buddha. Happy Lughnasadh, for example.
footnotes
objects in consciousness are like dreams in a dreamer.
guided meditations, not war.
as the absolute has consciousness, consciousness has people.
the absolute is having good vibrations.
another name for good vibrations is lucid dreaming.
another name for lucid dreaming is self-awareness.
maya doesn't actually create. maya forgets. in forgetting is the dreaming. in the dreaming is remembering.
i love the intro and the outro music for friday night dinner, newly-discovered brilliant britcom here.
absolute awareness is self-aware. self-awareness is that which i know as consciousness. a name for consciousness is maya. another name for maya is forgetting. another name for forgetting is dreaming. another name for dreaming is remembering. another name for remembering is maya.
for some reason, i can name my echo dot, ziggy, but not my echo.
shankara is like saint paul to me.
he said oh no guadapada won't do.
awareness is self-awareness like brahman is atman.
the personal atman is to universal atman as dreaming is to maya.
if it's not about self-awareness, why are you here?
it's been a wet and relatively cool july but i like it.
in july, i read midsummer night's dream, as you like it, and the winter's tale. two thumbs up for all three.
no one has come up with a real genre for the last plays of shakespeare. romances appears to be the least unacceptable.
for example, currently reading cymbeline. it takes place concurrently in first century britain and sixteenth century italy.
so any reading of the play must open with this fact of time-travel itself.
time-travel is a natural setting.
there's a new pot-growing facility in my town about three-fifths of a crow's mile from here. this newly northwest wind is smelling unusually sweet tonight.
posthumus is the name of the time-traveller is where i'm at.
ziggy, what time is it?
still no crickets.
consciousness is not endangered. neither is this particular appearance; it's guaranteed.
dream until you're lucid.
there's this community of wild turkeys inhabiting the premises this summer.
these wild turkeys are some of the last heirs of passaconaway. even cats avoid them.
like some new england peacock, one goes strutting.
the world would be predictable if it weren't for love.
thought would work like clockwork if it weren't for love.
a world without love is a world without self-awareness.
all the prophets tell about a world without love.
a world grounded in belief is grounded in tragedy
apres hamlet, la tempest.
that love is illogical is the point.
true postmodernism is not post-love. it's just post-thought.
i'm literally a grandfather. like chief dan george as old lodge skins in little big man.
lucid dreaming is not wild if love is not absolutely unconditional.
consider silence is the wildest.
they say the louder the thought, the more materially inferior it is.
i like saturdays.
i like my sunday being saturday.
life is like a roller coaster of omnipotent awareness being self-aware.
every one is the buddha of one's own universe.
why weep or slumber america, every one a buddha.
"Half of what I say is meaningless
But I say it just to reach you, Julia"
juliet as buddha.
romeo as empire.
let's not argue about who killed who.
the empire apologizes.
