Leftovers
All thought is habit, the conditioned outcome of the given nature-nurture.
Genome, geography, culture, gender, language, intelligence,
What choice does any have in their foundation?
And how can that original programming ever be overridden?
* * * *
Identity is a finite creation of consciousness, of imagination.
In the ultimate, indivisibly, timelessly infinite reality, you are pure awareness.
The imaginary you, materializes whenever the sensory-mind believes the manifest dream real,
Whenever it identifies with, whenever it attaches to, the finite body,
And its finite world, its finite cosmos.
* * * *
Consciousness is neither life nor death, existence nor oblivion.
An imaginary quantum dream-state make-believing time and space real and true,
Created by the evolutionary happenchance of the sensory mind-body,
Playing out the theater inspired by a collective collusion.
A genomic paradigm spun of mystery.
* * * *
The forces of the world are strong and unrelenting.
It takes great fortitude, great heart and mind, to withstand them.
Strength, courage, resilience, guts, staying power, grit, stamina, determination,
Endurance, sense, shrewdness, practicality, initiative, resourcefulness,
Gumption, get-up-and-go, common sense, presence of mind,
Are pragmatic concepts for any spirit to cultivate.
* * * *
Do not even for a second believe that you are the only one thinking something.
Do not even for a second doubt that you are the only one thinking something.
* * * *
To be a part of any group, you must believe, or pretend to believe,
In whatever it is the group does and does not subscribe.
You must drink the Kool-Aid, so to speak.
* * * *
What is the point of always rushing from one goal, one purpose, to the next?
Whatever joy there may be in existence is in savoring, valuing, the given moment.
* * * *
Is existence really anything more than conditioned habit?
A recording that plays over and over each and every day,
With slight changes that only align with that prescribed.
* * * *
Awareness is the razor’s edge of alleged existence.
Consciousness is merely imagination imagining itself alive,
But in truth, is naught but a shadow harbored in a corporeal container,
Pretending, make-believing, the sensory-inspired illusion of time and space real.
The human paradigm is nothing more than a collusion of a genetic line,
Locked in a patterned dream, born in the jungles of long ago.
* * * *
What is male, what is female, but evolutionary currents of natural selection,
Come into being too many moons ago to even begin to fully fathom the mystery of it.
Vanity has absolutely nothing to do with the prior-to-consciousness process that got you here.
The body you inhabit is ultimately nothing more than a temporal vehicle
For the awareness you are to witness its mystery.
* * * *
The infant, in its all but tabula rasa state,
Its immaculate innocence, its watchful awareness,
Has yet to learn to act the imaginary role that is its destiny.
* * * *
The real light is discovering there is no light.
The real gray is discovering there is no gray.
The real dark is discovering there is no dark.
The real point is discovering there is no point.
The real before is discovering there is no before.
The real journey is discovering there is no journey.
The real creation is discovering there is no creation.
The real universe is discovering there is no universe.
The real quantum is discovering there is no quantum.
The real judgment is discovering there is no judgment.
The real and-so-on is discovering there is no and-so-on.
The real destruction is discovering there is no destruction.
The real awareness is discovering there is no awareness.
The real beginning is discovering there is no beginning.
The real unknown is discovering there is no unknown.
The real existence is discovering there is no existence.
The real beautiful is discovering there is no beautiful.
The real meaning is discovering there is no meaning.
The real formless is discovering there is no formless.
The real mystery is discovering there is no mystery.
The real purpose is discovering there is no purpose.
The real religion is discovering there is no religion.
The real nirvana is discovering there is no nirvana.
The real eternity is discovering there is no eternity.
The real process is discovering there is no process.
The real ecstasy is discovering there is no ecstasy.
The real known is discovering there is no known.
The real wealth is discovering there is no wealth.
The real source is discovering there is no source.
The real karma is discovering there is no karma.
The real power is discovering there is no power.
The real vanity is discovering there is no vanity.
The real agony is discovering there is no agony.
The real death is discovering there is no death.
The real belief is discovering there is no belief.
The real mind is discovering there is no mind.
The real space is discovering there is no space.
The real other is discovering there is no other.
The real fame is discovering there is no fame.
The real form is discovering there is no form.
The real good is discovering there is no good.
The real right is discovering there is no right.
The real after is discovering there is no after.
The real faith is discovering there is no faith.
The real path is discovering there is no path.
The real here is discovering there is no here.
The real view is discovering there is no view.
The real goal is discovering there is no goal.
The real time is discovering there is no time.
The real ugly is discovering there is no ugly.
The real now is discovering there is no now.
The real end is discovering there is no end.
The real evil is discovering there is no evil.
The real life is discovering there is no life.
The real you is discovering there is no you.
The real why is discovering there is no why.
The real who is discovering there is no who.
The real what is discovering there is no what.
The real when is discovering there is no when.
The real where is discovering there is no where.
The real how is discovering there is no how.
* * * *
What can you be once you stop identifying with the mind-body and the universe it has created?
Once you stop imagining the dream the senses every moment, hypnotize you into believing is real.
Once you discern that pure awareness is the one and only reality there is, has ever been, will ever be.
Once you realize your true nature is the ever-present here-now, the absolute totality, of all eternity.
* * * *
The immaculate awareness you truly are, is ever absolutely alone,
Unbound in the indivisible, indelible, unborn-undying solitude of eternity.
Your illusory universe will distract the mind you occupy in every way imaginable.
Fashion every possible hook to every moment, draw you out into its kaleidoscoping theater.
And as challenging as it may be to realize, to accept, it is ever your choice whether to give in, or not.
And in every moment, you do acquiesce, in every moment, you do sip the quantum elixir,
You become but a marionette playing out an ultimately inconsequential dream.
To believe or not believe, to slumber or awaken, that is the question.
* * * *
The sciences have obliquely pointed out over and over, many ways, many times,
That the senses are but evolutionary, neurological creations, weavers of the mind's theater.
How long before the transcendental reality becomes clear beyond doubt,
And awareness reasserts its rightful sovereignty,
Over the conditioned usurper born of imaginary design.
* * * *
Each and every morning, from the very first moments of awakening,
The conditioned recording begins playing its mind-numbing assumptions,
And another day of inevitability, another day of sleep-walking, begins.
* * * *
The destiny, the fate, the kismet, the karma,
Of any given time, of any given moment, will never happen again.
All dreaming is a one-time parade, a one-time show.
* * * *
Quantum mist.
Quantum matrix.
Quantum mystery.
Quantum indivisible.
Quantum dream.
* * * *
Your face, your mind-body, is but the outcome of all the Darwinian choices
Your ancestors made since their slime came into being in that long ago pool.
Nothing to be all vain and proud and narcissistic and arrogant about, really.
* * * *
It is the nature of our species to spend every day and every night, believing it is all about us.
Egocentric, ethnocentric, chronocentric, geocentric, heliocentric, cosmoscentric.
Exceptions only, over-and-over, again-and-again, prove the rule.
* * * *
What is that face, that body, that mind, but the genetic outcome of the natural selection
That began long before your most ancient ancestors were but slime in some muddy pond.
* * * *
The Mariana Trench is 36,037 feet deep, Mount Everest is 29,029 feet tall, a total of 65066 feet.
A mile is 5,280 feet, so the distance from the deepest to the tallest points on earth is just over 12 miles .
The gap between the California municipalities of Turlock and Modesto is plus-or-minus 14 miles.
What would ever lead anyone to truly believe all the horrors the human species has inflicted
Would not have at least a teensy-weensy impact on the magical garden that birthed it?
* * * *
The me-myself-and-I in which awareness harbors
Is nothing more than a temporal concoction of imagination.
Even the ineffable, indivisible quantum matrix has no ultimate reality,
And to fantasize it does is to assuage the insatiable mind with deceptions unending.
* * * *
From long before human history’s earliest etchings,
The wealthy, the famous, the powerful, have deceived themselves and others
Into believing themselves superior to the masses without.
Smoke and mirrors from the get-go.
* * * *
Assertions without substance mean nothing,
Unless the insubstantial is given weight
By ignorance or darker purpose.
* * * *
What is the expert but someone fooling others
Into believing they truly know something
The bean-counting mind should know.
* * * *
How ludicrous to believe any creed devised by the vanity of humankind
Would ever be anything more than a passing shadow of the reality that is.
* * * *
All any of us are, all any life form will ever be, is a pattern, a loop, playing itself over and over.
Some loops are more byzantine than others, but all have a measure of predictability, nonetheless.
* * * *
Does anyone really aspire to do anything with their finite existence?
Or is it all merely the compulsion of the inherent nature-nurture?
Nothing more than the destined momentum of the given patterning.
An inescapable reverie playing out the delusion of meaning and purpose.
An inexplicable quantum cosmos, ticking away with neither rhyme nor reason.
* * * *
All that experience, all that knowledge, all that accumulation,
The entire frame of reference from which you draw your cosmos,
What is its real purpose but to get you to this very right-here-right-now,
The most you can be, the most you have ever been, the most you will ever be.
There is no more but what the endless cravings of imagination concoct.
* * * *
Every creation across the cosmos is founded upon one pattern or another.
Loops that play over and over until the quantum reality morphs into new designs.
Some may be moderately changeable, but only in relatively superficial ways.
* * * *
Every creation across the cosmos is founded upon one pattern or another.
Loops that play over and over until the quantum reality morphs into new designs.
Some may be moderately changeable, but only in relatively superficial ways.
* * * *
Will you forever remain locked in the loop of your original conditioning?
Or will you learn to process critically enough to liberate your Self
From the confines to which you now so adamantly cling?
* * * *
History is an ever-churning dynamic of interconnected contexts,
Playing out the cosmic patterns, begun in the long-ago-not-long-ago.
* * * *
It is all instantaneously, simultaneously, come and gone as it happens.
Beginnings and endings are but imagination make-believing time real.
* * * *
Outside-the-box thinking first requires perception of the box.
If there is to be any possibility of free will, any perception beyond the given state,
The boundaries of the nature-nurture conditioning must be discerned
By the ever-present attention of immaculate awareness.
* * * *
Far more challenging for the human mind to simply be,
Than it is to mindlessly believe, to pretend, to imagine, the vanity of it all.
True faith, true devotion, true fidelity, is in the being.
* * * *
The newborn is but the tabula rasa of awareness until consciousness is gradually conditioned
By the winds of time, by the agony and ecstasy of the given nature-nurture.
Awakening is to be reborn into that unadorned state.
* * * *
Swaying the masses into not looking inward is what the absurdity of religion is really about.
Focus on mythologies, dogmas, idols, rituals, symbols, dress codes, hierarchies, not your Self.
* * * *
So many things we all have to live with, to endure, like it or no.
Fate is meted out each and every moment from first breath to last.
* * * *
Reality is not as concrete as thought would have it.
In fact, it is not concrete, not tangible, not palpable, at all.
Dubbing it a quantum dream is as close to truth as truth allows.
No need to create, no point in creating, any belief system, whatsoever.
* * * *
Given the nature of the human genome,
The newborn may not be full-on-free-and-clear tabula rasa,
But for all practical purposes the awareness is without a cloud in its windless sky.
Its untrammeled mind is as blank a slate as it ever will be again.
* * * *
Across the world, across all time, every culture has contrived folklore and wisdom
To explain the mystery from which all have come into being.
They are all right; they are all wrong.
* * * *
No one cares about you anywhere near as much
As you in your illusional-slash-delusional way might like to believe.
The challenge is for you to balance the spreadsheet with a detachment equal to or more.
* * * *
So many true believers as to make it impossible
To not descend totally into absurdity and horror.
* * * *
There is no need to believe in anything, whatsoever.
All belief is born of imagination’s ceaseless craving for more.
When what it is, is what it is, from any get-go, from any beginning,
The challenge is choosing contentment in whatever existence has offered.
* * * *
Had you been left to your own devices without any input from the given culture,
What might you have imagined this mystery to be,
If anything?
* * * *
You need not participate in the ever-spinning world prescribed
By any given culture, any given groupthink, any given karass, any given anything.
Assume the sovereignty to forge your own path, to chart your own course.
It is your narrative, your chronicle; do with it what you will.
* * * *
Supreme being is not an entity; it is not a dualistic notion.
It is the awareness, the indivisibility, the timelessness, the quintessence,
Within all creations great to small in the omnipresence, omnipotent, omniscient sense.
It is the beingness, the nowness, that reigns unconditional.
It is the absolute, it is eternity.
* * * *
To believe the soul is something that needs saving, or can be saved,
Is an assumption, that has no merit, whatsoever.
Indivisibility requires no saving.
* * * *
Your genetic past is the foundation of the patterning you are right here, right now.
Everything you say, everything you do, was written in your sands,
Long before eternity bloomed into consciousness.
* * * *
What a thing the evolution of the brain, of mind, of cognition.
From a naturally-selected instinctual apparatus to one delineated by the given culture,
Teeming to the nth degree with ever sort of detail, every sort of trivia,
Every variety of mindful and mindless pursuit.
* * * *
Santa Claus was real, until you finally figured out, he was not.
The same with the Easter Bunny, the Tooth Fairy, Bigfoot, and Harvey the Pooka.
But Jesus? No, Jesus is real. Jesus is not a lie. Jesus died for your sins, that you might exist forever.
Jesus is going return someday to take you up to heaven, no matter what evils you have done.
All you need do is believe, and hand over ten percent-ish to your chosen middleman.
* * * *
Any cult (a.k.a., religion) likely has these usual suspects in common:
Charismatic leader,
Supreme deity with supporting troupe,
Mythology, idols, dogma, rituals, symbols, dress code, hierarchy,
And most importantly, a collection of true believers tithing to support the prescribed mission.
* * * *
You are not your identity, you are not your body, you are not your cosmos.
That is but a temporal part you are conditioned to play in the given vessel.
* * * *
This dreamy universe is all about chemistry playing out in ways beyond imagining.
It is about how the kaleidoscoping quantum theater is every moment patterned.
The entire cabaret is nothing more than an ever-changing puzzle of a matrix.
* * * *
Endorphins are central to human behavior patterns.
How any respond to any given scenario, to any given moment,
Depends on the endorphins that are released into the given mind-body.
No one need give themselves over to any conditioned response
But through the subjective levels of attachment
That rule their version of the cosmos.
* * * *
You need not react, need not respond, need not answer, to anything, but through your own volition.
It is requires only your becoming acutely aware of the chemistries blended of desire and fear.
It requires observing closely, every moment, the feelings any given combination ordains,
Rather than simply giving awareness over to the conditioned mind-body responses.
The endorphin meter is set by the level of attachment to any given scenario.
To be as free as humanly possible is to function at a level of awareness
Challenging to manifest for any great duration of so-called time.
In other words, the indivisible now, the timeless moment,
The awareness you truly are in this reverie of time,
Is, far more often than not, being interminably shanghaied
By the time-bound imagination you are not, were not, will never be.
* * * *
All your life you have followed some so-called religious archetype,
Deceiving your Self in one way or another with the ashes of a cultish tradition.
Yet here you are with that gnawing hunger to finally discover the truth behind the charade.
To finally apprehend, to finally yield, to the immaculate awareness you truly are.
And have only lacked the audacity to fully own, to fully stand alone.
* * * *
True belief, true faith, true knowing, do not flower in dogma.
Discern the indivisible to slash the Gordian Knot of doubt.
* * * *
All judgments, opinions, conclusions, assessments, beliefs, prejudices, stereotypes, and the like,
Are ultimately meaningless, yet largely unavoidable given the dualistic nature of the sensory mind.
Best keep as many to yourself as possible if you aspire to the tranquility of political expediency.
* * * *
What are success and failure to those who seek, those who discern,
Those whose calling is the indelible, indivisible, immortal awakening?
* * * *
Statistically improbable as it well may be in the grand immensity of the ever-expanding cosmos,
It is always possible that we are the one and only civilization that this vast universe as ever spawned.
To assume other worlds were, or will be, the right size in the right sun with the right chemistry
With an evolutionary track that fostered forests with mammalian life, opposable thumbs,
Larynxes, lungs, arms, legs , tool-making brains – or something equally capable –
Might well be dubious, despite the near-infinity of star-crossed possibilities.
* * * *
Resisting the ever-present, indivisible nature of awareness is futile.
Consciousness is but temporal passenger of a mortal dream.
And must inevitably relinquish its reverie at one point or another.
It is the fate of all great to small to drown in the sea of timeless oblivion.
* * * *
What on earth leads human beings to believe any deity worth its salt
Would be at all interested in, at all concerned about, their pathetic tripe?
Imagine listening to all that wretched whining, day after day, for all eternity.
* * * *
Heaven, hell, purgatory, call them what you will, are but conceptual perceptions,
Attitudes, insights, experiences, beliefs, realities, dreamscapes, notions, impressions,
Equally witnessed by the indelibly indivisible, eternal awareness of any given moment.
* * * *
You keep trying to remember, you keep trying to forget.
Holding on, letting go, so incompatible, so paradoxical, so ironical.
The Sisyphean fate of the conditioned mind entangled in the theater of time.
* * * *
You are but timeless awareness peering through a quantum veil.
The you that you believe you are is but an imaginary concoction.
* * * *
Whenever thought attaches to any sort of attribute,
Imagination usurps reality, death raises its conditional mind,
And the indivisible awareness seamlessly dissipates from center stage,
Serenely witnessing the eternal dream from behind the veil of consciousness,
The cloak that flutters amok in every rational and irrational way imagination allows.
* * * *
If there is any calling in this ineffable mystery,
Surely the highest is discerning the unknown.
* * * *
It is the eyes that create the greatest sense of separation within and without.
None of the other senses enhance dualistic notion in anywhere near the same way.
This grand theater matrix, this quantum dreamtime would not be without them.
* * * *
In this ever-changing quantum matrix,
No matter how many times anything is observed,
Neither it nor the mind’s eye of the beholder
Are ever even for a moment the same.
* * * *
Whether you discern it or not, I know I am you, and you are me,
And we, no matter the discourse, no matter the fate,
Are ultimately born of the same mystery.
* * * *
There is no ‘Me’, no ‘Myself’, no ‘I’, in the indivisibility of awareness, how can there be?
The given mind that asserts its dream real and true, is but a conditioned illusion,
An ever-changing, temporal, quantum phantom born of imagination.
* * * *
Anyone can fabricate a story,
But to believe it true requires a gullible mind,
Lacking any shadow of doubt, and prepared to pay any cost.
Such is the destiny of the true believer.
Let the buyer beware.
* * * *
When it comes to the instinct to propagate,
Human beings have no more restraint than any other critter.
Rabbits, cockroaches, any creature you might name, is compelled by its biology,
But only for as long as its environment, its habitat, its milieu, its niche, its nook, its cranny, allows.
Which on the whole is not very long when you consider that more than 99 percent
Of all species that ever lived on Earth, amounting to over five billion,
Are estimated to have been snuffed out by the winds of time.
Guesstimates of the living range from 10 to 14 million,
And their extinction is assured down the pike, too.
This whirling orb is a garden, not a museum.
* * * *
You are an ethereal cloud of awareness
Poking about the conditioned concoction
Of a sensory-mind dream of space and time.
* * * *
If you must believe in something, believe in nature,
And draw on science to explore its rhyme and reason.
Or be very, very still, and know all there is to know.
* * * *
If you believe that any words, any numbers, mean anything to the mystery of now,
You must also imagine that wind and clouds mean something to the spacious sky.
, and the motley shards are but players wafting across the stage.
* * * *
The pleasures the Fates offer are balanced if not dominated
By the myriad consequences that will inevitably be endured.
* * * *
All this was set in motion millions of years ago back in the jungles of Africa.
We are all born of a natural selection process that runs through the core of our DNA.
No point getting upset about the fact that men do what men do, and women do what women do.
The contemporary world may make the tango of our species absurdly complex,
But the fundamental patterning is ever very much the same.
* * * *
Awareness is pristine and immaculate and clear of any blemish or stain,
But is it at all possible for consciousness to be without judgment?
Is not everything thought one form of judgment or another?
Opinions, assumptions, stereotypes, conventions, ideals,
Ethics, principles, labels, laws, pigeonholes, beliefs,
Conclusions, notions, expectations, values, norms,
Any patterns, any definitions, any attitudes, whatsoever.
The roots of pride, of vanity, are saturated with all of the above.
* * * *
If what is real, if what is true, is not equally free to all without conditions,
Then it is just another middleman invention, just another middleman scam.
* * * *
Believing your little blip of existence
Will make any significant impact is laughable.
Historical archives are chock-full of the all-but-forgotten.
Oblivion awaits your surrender.
* * * *
To believe yourself wise, to believe yourself sage,
Can be yet another road to purgatory,
Yet another cautionary tale.
* * * *
Dependence on tradition is a stupor that dulls the blade of discernment.
To stay free, to stay alert, to awaken to the greatest vision, best wander alone.
* * * *
No matter how immense or minute, how bright or dim, any given mind –
Musical-rhythmically, visual-spatially, verbal-linguistically, logical-mathematically,
Bodily-kinesthetically, interpersonally, intrapersonally, naturalistically , existentially , morally –
That given mind is ever bound in the limits of space-time by its imaginary potential.
* * * *
All creation is devised of the same common denominator,
The same essence, the same ground, the same matrix, the same quantum,
Conservation of energy, indeed.
* * * *
Evolution has sculpted life into many patterns, many forms, many ways and means,
But it is ever the same soupy essence bubbling away beneath each and every surface.
All separation, all difference, all uniqueness, is nothing more than imaginary notion.
* * * *
What is this human drive, this obsession, for there to be a point to it all?
What is so challenging for so many about not having an explanation for something,
That every stratagem from superstition to science is used to engineer one account or another.
* * * *
However small or large the group, whether twosome or family or tribe or culture
Or organization or country or the entire species worldwide across all time,
What is the will of the people but a continually surging me-me-me.
* * * *
Yet another nuance with which to foster power and fame and fortune,
In whatever combination, whatever sequence, the given fate has in store.
* * * *
The given brain is a quantum tool in which you abide for a fated time,
And with awareness and gumption and grit, and a pinch of good fortune,
You will perchance learn to maneuver it well, and without too much fallout.
* * * *
All chronicles are but piecemeal fabrications of illusory perceptions
Born of sensory minds wandering about a quantum playhouse.
Time is unreal, space is unreal, light is unreal, sound is unreal.
All is but imaginary notion, make-believe narratives from any get-go.
Only the immaculate awareness through which consciousness streams is real.
* * * *
All the gusty flurries of the mind are of absolutely no consequence to the eternal awareness.
The myriad concoctions of imagination are but time-bound fabrications
Of an ever-changing make-believe reality.
If you yearn for tranquility, if you yearn for true Self,
Abide the cosmos kaleidoscoping about you in the ground of awareness.
* * * *
All across the world, the same conversation.
No matter the geography, no matter the time, no matter the culture,
No matter the tradition, no matter the politic, no matter the economics, no matter the technology,
No matter the religion, no matter the philosophy, no matter the language, no matter the dress,
No matter the gender, no matter the family, no matter the education, no matter the work,
No matter the war, no matter the sport, no matter the pastimes, no matter anything;
Each and every human being, males and females of all ages and persuasions,
Are in every way imaginable, essentially having the same conversation.
* * * *
Mother Nature is immortal creator and destroyer.
Every moment simultaneously making and unmaking.
An ever-changing quantum apparition playing at existence.
Ever streaming, kaleidoscoping, appearing, dissolving.
Unconditionally, indivisibly, nothing all the while.
* * * *
Who is your tribe?
Who are your parents, your siblings?
What is you gender, your race, your religion, your culture?
What are all your attachments to this dreamtime world, or some rumored next one?
And what, by the way, makes you so sure any of it is truly real,
Or that you were ever even born?
* * * *
Destiny is founded upon the sands of mind,
Written and unwritten every ephemeral moment
By the imaginary continuum of assumption.
* * * *
All human beings are shaped by the nature-nurture into which they are involuntarily cast.
All are conditioned, trained, programmed, indoctrinated, disciplined, humbled, tamed, cultivated,
Domesticated, subjugated, suppressed, conquered, curbed, pacified, repressed, brainwashed.
To unshackle one’s true Self, to un-wash the mind, requires a great deal of discernment.
Each, very much alone, must choose, must grapple, to be free of all the absurdity.
* * * *
Enduring this existence, surviving this existence,
Need not make you guilty in any way, in any shape, in any form.
Heavens, hells, reincarnation, karma, whatever beliefs have been set before you,
Are nothing more than concoctions, speculations, assumptions,
Of the those who would own your mind.
* * * *
Regarding the genomic commonalities, the inherent behaviors of the human psyche:
Pride and envy and gluttony and lust and wrath and greed and sloth,
It is delusion for any individual, any group, any culture,
To believe itself in any way grander or superior to any other.
* * * *
No matter the culture, the geography, the time,
Every human being is subject to the same Seven Deadly Sins.
Pride, envy, gluttony, lust, wrath, greed, and sloth are all potential in any mind.
To have the insight, the discipline, to keep them reigned in, to hold them in check, to keep them at bay,
To play them out as rationally, as temperately, as soberly, as judiciously, as ascetically,
As moderately as possible, is an every-moment challenge for all.
* * * *
No one can change their fate, their destiny, their kismet, their luck, their doom.
All attempts are naught but what it is, kaleidoscoping into what it will be.
What it was, has ever been, will ever be, since the dawn of Creation.
* * * *
Alas to all the migrants and refugees and homeless and countless other disenfranchise souls.
Tough being on the short end of the stick in this so-called civilized, road-to-perdition madhouse.
The one-percenters and their underlings have never given a rat's derrière for the tormented underclass.
They have always manipulated and enslaved the less potent folk to their own ends, and always will.
Revolutions and civil wars and assassinations only put new masks on the same underlying greed.
* * * *
What is this great fear, this great dread,
That harbors ever-humming in this mammalian frame,
But the genomic pulse, the instinctive craving, the conscious obsession,
The ceaseless quest, the endless pursuit of unfeasible-unreachable-unattainable security,
That is never long-satisfied, never long at ease, no matter how we feed it?
Consciousness ever-tormented to churn on and on and on.
* * * *
What is your calling, your vocation, your passion,
But whatever, given every thinkable, every possible option,
You would first and foremost at least part of every day choose to do.
* * * *
Destiny is all, all is destiny,
Naught but a blink, a blip, a flash, a pfft, in all eternity,
Whatever that is, or is not.
Soundbites
The outcome of poor critical thinking skills is laziness and imitation.
* * * *
We are all just actors here; only the rarest not believing their parts real.
* * * *
If you cannot discern heaven now, what makes you believe you will deserve it later?
* * * *
Instinct is the operating system upon which all culture is founded.
* * * *
What is identity but a lifelong habit?
* * * *
How mistaken humankind is to believe itself so intelligent.
* * * *
What need for belief? Attend the moment.
* * * *
What is time but a function of memory cells, make-believing perceptions more than a mirage.
* * * *
The usurpers will use any means to blind you, deceive you, into believing their way true.
* * * *
Why waste your time believing anything? Stand alone, be free.
* * * *
It can be a good thing for people to face their addiction to entitlement.
* * * *
What is calling you right now?
* * * *
Habit rules the undiscerning mind.
* * * *
Freedom? What bother to have ever believed you were not.
* * * *
True friendship is free of conditions, as is true love of the agape variety.
* * * *
What is any language but layers of history, of culture, interwoven into its ever-changing nature.
* * * *
All patterns have been wrought by natural selections beyond counting.
* * * *
Greed, the insatiable drive for more-more-more, is the source of all addiction.
* * * *
Is it true or just something you want to believe?
* * * *
Unclench the mind to free up the conditioning; discern the relativity of consciousness.
* * * *
Sometimes a large wave consumes you, sometimes a small one, fate is like that.
* * * *
Every loop has its fate.
* * * *
We are all of the same Monkey; which monkey you choose to play is that which sculpts your fate.
* * * *
A sloth has more meaning and purpose than a philosopher.
* * * *
Just when you start lulling yourself into believing absurdity cannot possibly get any more absurd …
* * * *
The trick is to not believe your own propaganda.
* * * *
Life can be harsh, life can be kind; fate has no preference.
* * * *
Free will looking forward, fate looking back.
* * * *
Love or hate, win or lose, believe or not, it will all soon be over.
* * * *
If your observation does not match your belief, do you change the belief, or stop observing?
* * * *
Look closely at the conditioning and see the relativity; none ever the same.
* * * *
From patternlessness to patterning, back to patternlessness.
* * * *
There is a special place in hell for people who believe.
* * * *
It is civilians who often pay the highest price for the rich man’s war.
* * * *
That you need to believe anything shows your lack of faith.
* * * *
If that is what you want to believe, who is anyone to tell you otherwise?
* * * *
It has all been nothing more than extremely believable distraction.
* * * *
Sometimes the current is too strong and you must give into it; fate is like that.
* * * *
Why believe in any deity outside your Self?
* * * *
What tradition can last long? What tradition is not ever-changing?
* * * *
Yet another uncivil civil war.
* * * *
What you are gauged to do, what you are gauged to think, that is your fate.
* * * *
Hard to be afraid of things in which you do not believe.
* * * *
Why believe in anything? Is not awareness enough?
* * * *
Die, non-believers! Die! Die, believers! Die!
* * * *
You really believe your labels mean anything to the ultimate?
* * * *
Be not disappointed that your fate does not allow that.
* * * *
To ride doubt until its end is a calling for only the most tenacious upon the quest.
* * * *
Hard to do what one feels no calling to do.
* * * *
Yet another meme playing out its pattern.
* * * *
Belief is capable of inspiring any and every imaginable absurdity and horror.
* * * *
What is a true believer but a delusional contortionist.
* * * *
Imagination is all about endorphins and their hypnotic addiction.
* * * *
And still they believe.
* * * *
What do the Fates have in store today?
* * * *
Nothing like a true believer to sharpen your wit.
* * * *
To immerse in the ultimate aloneness is a rare calling.
* * * *
Meaning and purpose are the source of all human vanity, all human delusion.
* * * *
Yet another true believer.
* * * *
We all believe what we are capable of believing.
* * * *
Why is it necessary to believe in anything?
* * * *
Nothing like a true-believer to get your head shaking no.
* * * *
How can awareness ever be tamed by the myriad values born of any imaginary paradigm?
* * * *
Why participate in anything, why contribute to anything you do not believe?
* * * *
Tradition is a form of laziness.
* * * *
Will the true believers still praise their deities when their entitlements dissolve?
* * * *
Meaning and purpose are the harbingers of bother.
* * * *
Revolutions and civil wars only put new masks on the same old me-myself-and-I greed.
* * * *
Every day, time has its way with you and your conditioned responses.
Breadcrumbs
A philosopher!
What a useless calling.
What would your mother say?
Oops, she did, oh, sorry.
* * * *
Believe me, there is no expectation herein that anything in the human drama will change.
I am just reflecting on whatever comes to mind, posing a wide melee of thoughts.
I hold out little hope that our cancerous species is even remotely capable
Of reigning in its passionate mind and myriad instinctual drives.
My predictions for the future are not in any way optimistic.
More of the same-old-same-old is more than a little probable,
But only for as long as Mother Nature condescends our existence.
* * * *
The inevitable oil crash may well be the kickoff to tumultuous waves of famine
That will bring this unsustainable human spectacle to its knees.
After the initial hysteria and chaos moderates,
Thoughts such as these
May receive a bit more attention.
But then again, it is more than a little likely
That this haggard paradigm will adapt to the new scale,
And carry on in the same oafish, no-win pattern that it always has.
* * * *
Through randomness, happenchance, serendipity,
The rare audience for these reflections is stumbled upon.
One never knows for whom these thoughts will toll.
* * * *
If there is some sort of personal deity, as so many incline to believe,
Then, pray tell, answer me this: Where did he/she/it/whatever come from?
Granted, this quantum mystery had to begin somehow, sometime, somewhere,
But some Santa-Claus-heaven-hell fiction does not slice the mustard.
And do not get me started on the alien speculation advocates.
This orb is a garden enough to do it on its own.
* * * *
The point and purpose of these way more than too many babblings,
Is to inoculate all with the seed of doubt, the key to awakening.
* * * *
These many thoughts merely point out what seems obvious to these eyes.
What outcome they may, or likely will not serve in bringing about,
Are the choices of consciousness that play out in every mind.
* * * *
Having for all practical purposes written off the human species,
I really should cease and desist from further commentary,
But no, I blather on and on, basking in the play of wit,
Such as it is in this temporal gray-matter dream.
It is, indeed, a waste of time, but what else is time for?
* * * *
Just shake my head at anyone who truly believes
Humankind will ever get off this planet in any meaningful way.
And what is the friggin' point of colonies on the Moon or Mars or anywhere else,
That will be unsustainable without absurdly expensive supply chains?
And with all the dominos a-quivering on this dying planet,
How will anything even get off the ground?
The absurdity is boggling.
* * * *
All this articulation means nothing, changes nothing, the Fates are at the wheel.
* * * *
What I have to teach cannot be taught; it is a fate to which few feel called.
* * * *
Thank the Good Lord I was born in tradition-free Kaliforny,
And don’t have to play any way but whatever comes naturally.
* * * *
This is what this mind does.
Another example of a fate less chosen.
Accept it for what it is; any critique is meaningless.
Make it your own if you discern it so.
* * * *
A brief, narcissistic existence, replete with fabricated, delusionary meaning,
Surrounded in all directions by an eternally infinite ocean of purposelessness.
* * * *
Not necessarily the greatest writings out there,
But it will help get you started if it is your calling.
* * * *
Not a big believer that anyone is going to save anybody here or any elsewhere.
* * * *
These many thoughts began bubbling out in 1989
After a head and neck injury invoked by a miscalculated wave
While boogie boarding with my fifth-sixth grade class in Southern Kaliforny.
It was the finale of a short teaching phase, and the entrée to an assortment of switchbacks
In the ever-kaleiscoping wanderfest of imagination, in work and recreation and every other whatever,
That has materialized all this whimsical chitter-chatter into this quantum playground.
It has been my way to allow spontaneity to fashion this destiny.
* * * *
He was not disappointed that his fate did not allow that.
* * * *
Written for those whose calling it is to be a mind of god.
* * * *
Can’t … stop … it …
It … just … won’t … leave … me … alone …
Oh, bitter, sweet fate.
* * * *
Of that quasi-neutral condition called slumber in these close-to-endgame times:
One or two hours happens; three is tolerable; four, typical; five, desirable; six, a miracle;
Seven a gift from God; and eight or more, last seen in the vicinity of childhood’s end.
* * * *
Another meditative day for words of a random nature
To flow uninhibited from the matrix of consciousness.
* * * *
True believers can take all their political correctness,
And shove it back up the abyss from whence it came.
* * * *
This is my calling; to what end I neither know nor care.
* * * *
Must have Missouri blood in me bones: I only believes it if I sees it.
The Standard Ripostes
The Scribe’s Go-to Responses to This and That in the Day-To-Day
Free will looking forward; fate looking back.
* * * *
A culture that does not invest in its young has no vision for its future.