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#Post#: 7589--------------------------------------------------
Re: biisuto
DIR By: Jed McKenna
Date: January 1, 2015, 8:51 am
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Excellent non-question.
Love ya, Jed.
#Post#: 7755--------------------------------------------------
The clock winds down
DIR By: guest89
Date: January 4, 2015, 9:30 am
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NO QUESTION HERE
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There’s nothing now to which I append a ‘?’ that doesn’t
disappear as quickly as a corporate whistleblower. And it leaves
neither mess, nor tidiness, nor any answered-question residue of
any kind. Not even an absence. Just nothing where there was, for
a brief moment, something a little eyebrow-raising.
Words are flying sparks that allude to a fire, but take the eyes
in the wrong direction. The source! Look to its origin, not the
darkness into which it cannot but be extinguished.
Truth Realisation is a desert destination; a battered yellow
sign with a faded black arrow, spinning loosely on a tilted
signpost and mocking the weary traveller. Onward. All motes of
wisdom, each insight, every hard-won truth must burn as fuel, to
get to the half-suspected mirage ahead…always ahead.
...But not really.
Untruth Unrealisation is a sustained movement, backward to the
source. It wipes clean, in successive, elegant strokes, the
mirror of perception. It is the love labour of the autolytic
artisan. The obsessive compulsion of the ultimate clean-freak,
which must continue until there’s no longer a surface to which
impurity might adhere.
Then but glimpse past the delusion of many to the underlying
undividedness and it becomes an effortless devotion. Struggling
is recognised for what it is and the call to cease becomes
irresistible. Attributes subside, a path becomes a clearing,
then falls away into the timeless, all-embracing silence of the
endless void.
It’s not what I thought, never what I think…and the
well-intentioned words offer no help at all, creating the
illusion of progress, but in the opposite direction.
Thanks, Jed. For nothing.
#Post#: 7777--------------------------------------------------
Re: The clock winds down
DIR By: guest89
Date: January 4, 2015, 7:48 pm
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It has taken months to find a voice and finally became
irrepressible.
I’m done.
If you care to know where this comes from, be clear about this:
I’m not “done” as in any kind of conceptual terminus for
whatever one thinks about “Truth Realised”. I’ve always grokked
what you mean, Jed, when you describe Untruth Unrealisation as a
closer approximation and this is the closest I can shave it in
words myself, so far as I’ve tried.
Done is simply no more questions. Done is the glistening, pure
orb of Truth, turning in the elegant blackness of eternal
space…without the orb.
I was in the most exquisite agony for so long and then did a
double take to notice that it was gone. Press all the old
buttons and ..nada. A huge continental ice shelf d’self just
slid into the sea without ceremony and drifted off. “Thar she
blows…!” ...and there it goes.
I’m already doubling back, howling the eternal ‘yes’ and with a
continuous wiping motion, to now keep the mirror clean. Eternal
meaninglessness is the only gift. The canvas is blank.
I posted the following quote from my very favourite author to
socmed a few months back and fuck me if I didn’t get notice that
somebody had ‘liked’ it, just this morning...like a message in a
bottle:
[quote="Jed McKenna"]
“FURTHER.
At a very exact point in the journey when it would be very easy
to sit down and think you’re done, it means, “Get up! You’re not
there yet!”
Don’t be deceived.
Don’t be sentimental.
Don’t be complacent.
Keep moving.
You think you’re there but you’re not. You’re still seeing two
where there’s only one. The image you’re kneeling in front of
-whoever it is, whatever it is- is just another projection of
your own bullshit.
Kill the fucking thing and move on.” [/quote]
…The universe has spoken…but then, It has never really ever shut
up, has it…?
Time to pay it forward.
#Post#: 7795--------------------------------------------------
Re: The clock winds down
DIR By: Jed McKenna
Date: January 5, 2015, 12:26 am
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Old hippy.... Peace Bro.
Love ya, Jed.
#Post#: 8287--------------------------------------------------
Postcard from Rumi's Field
DIR By: guest89
Date: January 15, 2015, 9:31 pm
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NO QUESTIONS, JED- just 'further'!
Fulsomely warmest greetings to you, fellow travellers! Glorious
lashings of beatific gratitude to you, my senpai, from your
loving and beloved kohai!
A rumi-nation from the path, prefaced by the disclaimer that the
awkward appearance of pronouns (eg., “you” etc.) is not to be
taken literally, but are linguistic constraints against which
the intent behind the writing chafes at times. In that sense,
this would be easier to express in Japanese, but mine isn’t that
good.
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All the time that conceptual understanding is your operational
modality, sketchy thought pictures and projected sensation
fragments are the veil wallpapering over the glory of direct
experience.
The gurus, texts and practices will get you this far. And we
here are all united, I believe, in at least the conceptual
understanding that map and terrain are not the same.
The veil is composed of layer upon layer of thought, as Jed
describes it. Thought is inert and soulless. Like the beauty of
the web, jetted from Maya's curvaceous ass, it has no life to it
at all, but is jerked by the breeze and the desperate twisting
of the fly - and is a fascination to any who give pause to look
upon it. Like an otherwise stagnant water feature fronting a
desert c.asino, thought does nothing. It’s only the pumps and
filters of the mind and the coloured lights of the emotions that
generate all movement and the illusion of dynamic, pulsing life
therein.
There’s nothing missing from Oneness. Yet mind perceives gap
after gap and goes to work, trying to share (with likewise
illusory ‘others’) what it thinks it sees by mixing a batch of
thoughts and words (which are aggregated thought symbols), like
concrete, and using the the product to fill it to shape.
But all gaps are a perceptual lacking, not real emptiness.
Consider the space within a cup versus the picture of a
cup...And, as such, they aren’t holes in something but rather a
structural formwork erected in nothing. And when thoughts are
shot-creted into it and dry …and the formwork crumbles because
mind has moved on (as mind does) we’re left with these wordy
artefacts, like chipped and mossy statues from another time and
place, on perennial display to these ‘others’, the projection of
whom stroll as enchanted tourists through the Roman Forum, in
the suspiciously concrete-y footsteps of the original, likewise
projected sons of the she-wolf... now also powder.
All things are thoughts, because reality is not a thing and -
haha!- thought is the only ‘substance' there is. The thing that
thinks it thinks the words is likewise another thought-crete
monstrosity. A layered golem of thought, projected “out here”
and kept isolated from its source by layer upon layer of
“matter", “space" and “time”... more conceptual veils. Without
the veils there’s only the nothing of everything.
But, here/now at Ground Zero, as harmonic resonance between its
animating -whatever- builds with that beyond which the veil of
illusion has been obscuring, the facade crumbles and slowly,
irrevocably and with increasing momentum, all kinds of things
become clear, even without actually having to “do the math” for
each. Clarity leaves no residue. It's just another small piece
of me entering the venturi, from the playground of Legion back
to One. I am disappearing.
When the thief is caught, a number of robberies are
simultaneously resolved.
On “doing the math”: pay lip service to Oneness without
considering the practical ramifications and the clues lie
forever hidden in plain sight before you, though you blindly
whine about being lost. If “not-two" is the only ‘True’, (in the
way we here conceptually know Truth to be), then the
inescapable, mathematical, scientific corollary is that all
difference has to be illusion. All difference is unreal. And all
that is unreal does not exist.
It has to be that, or One is a lie.
We marvel at the ability of each new wave of art, literature,
science and technology at describing, mimicking, dissecting,
simulating, rendering ‘lifelike' simulacra. Yet, bored, sore and
miserable from the mean and petty drudgeries to which we
mysteriously enslave ourselves and by which we drive wedges into
“is” with “ought", we are forever seeking diversions from the
gorgeous sumptuousness of that which greets the senses at every
moment - even in our nighttime dreamstate is it inescapable-
were we to just cease embellishing what is.
I have to keep reminding myself that not a hair in all the
universe is out of place…yet cannot help wishing sometimes that
we could all just learn to chill the **** out... of that
clenching, egoic reflex which insists on gilding the lily.
I remind myself for good reason though. For if the lie is the
mere dance of shadows; if One is beyond and incorruptible by
that matrix of projected darkness, then it is the very thing,
the rock-bottom that you dragged Thoreau up from the archives to
describe for us, Jed:
[quote="Jedster"][quote="HDT"]"Let us settle ourselves, and work
and wedge our feet downward through the mud and slush of
opinion, and prejudice, and tradition, and delusion, and
appearance, that alluvion which covers the globe...through
church and state , through poetry and philosophy and religion,
till we come to a hard bottom and rocks in place , which we can
call reality, and say, This is, and no mistake."[/quote][/quote]
With One as your fulcrum then, turn that bright, investigative
light upon your world for the space of a semicolon; for a
minute, an hour, a day…a lifetime. They’re all the same, of
course: software, impressionist renderings of the eternal
present.
My words are yours, your hands are mine - making “yours” and
“my” and “hands” misperceptions; more veils to be pierced: by
merely looking and considering...and then seeing what they
are...not.
Any special differences to which I secretly cling, (whispering
of my quiet superiority) are the very lies that breathe cartoon
life into sketchbook gaps.
The joke that curls even the lip of God is that, stripped of
attributes, what I am is immeasurably greater than this tiny
thing I play at for the simple reason that it is the only part
that is real: me, unembellished. When you consider that far more
than 99.9999% of consensual experience is utterly imaginary, it
tends to explain why perspectives tend to get so skewed.
More really is less. Be it the tiniest quark or the universe in
its entirety: >1 is 100% false.
So, having read this far, then, now imagine this: at some point
beneath all of the artifice, there’s Rumi’s eternal field, that
lies, “beyond all right-doing and wrong-doing”; the place where
he promised to meet us. Jed, you called it ”improbable”, but I’m
sure you see it as it really is: immutable.
Rise up from your wheelchairs! Throw down your crutches! Clean
the gum from your eyes and blow your therapist a big wet
raspberry on your way out! For we are already there, my friends
- indeed, we’ve never left.
And from that one, true perspective (even watered down,
distorted and FUBAR’d as it is laughably rendered herein) look
back now upon the infinitesimal moment, at the unspeakable
wonder of this place…and then go backwards and erase every line
of this post, forgetting you even noticed it.
Then don’t stop, for that’s where you’ll find what it is you
seek: where it is and nowhere else.
#Post#: 27954--------------------------------------------------
Re: Postcard from Rumi's Field
DIR By: guest89
Date: April 6, 2017, 11:20 am
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Hi Jed,
What an amazing ride - you're a gift that keeps on giving!
I have a mind toy to play with.... wanted to get your opinion
(and am not sure i'm the first to think it- it's that good!)
So, we know about Erwin Schrödinger's cat... but how about if -
before sending it off on it's long interstellar voyage- we allow
that the container in which the cat is contained also has a
video camera?
The wrinkle is that the camera's installation is only hearsay,
in that I didn't install it and never saw it happen.
The question begging then is: when the cat arrives in its
super-position dead/alive state, is the monitor evidence of one
or the other state enough to collapse the superposition?
Is there a kind of chain-of-custody issue great enough to
preserve the superposition, or does the visual evidence on the
monitor (viewed without ever opening the hatch and physically
inspecting the cat's box) suffice to make the case for
aliveness/deadness?
#Post#: 27955--------------------------------------------------
Re: Postcard from Rumi's Field
DIR By: Notdan
Date: April 6, 2017, 12:24 pm
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What do you need the camera for? The problem I've always had
with this is that it is human chauvinist, and discounts the fact
that the cat is an observer.
#Post#: 27958--------------------------------------------------
Postcard from Rumi's Field
DIR By: guest89
Date: April 6, 2017, 6:03 pm
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Point taken, N. Absolute agreement from a meatspace perspective.
But this is a mind puzzle about meatspace itself and it's the
subject-object relationship vis-a-vis a popular physical model
of reality that is under the microscope here.
I'm not saying there's either a cat or a me observing in truth,
just within a largely accepted mental model of the universe.
Can we grant that much, just for the duration of the exercise?
There is a point to it, that's all.
#Post#: 27959--------------------------------------------------
Re: Postcard from Rumi's Field
DIR By: Notdan
Date: April 6, 2017, 7:21 pm
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One thread only and stick to your thread. No commenting on
another's thread and less than 200 words per post. Forum rules.
Thanks in advance for your attention to that.
Love ya, Jed.
#Post#: 27960--------------------------------------------------
Postcard from Rumi's Field
DIR By: guest89
Date: April 6, 2017, 7:32 pm
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...your passion and veracity is applauded.
But if we cannot grant the framework of the mind puzzle for its
own duration, then it must likewise take down with it this forum
and any pretense of multiple entities sharing a metaphysical
meal around its table.
Nobody in this thread is in denial of the substance of your
protest.
Rather, the puzzle stands as a meatspace proof of something of
which meatspace believers have a hard time coming to grips. It
admittedly works only within a universe where there are cats and
boxes and Schrödingers postulating superpositions - although I
do appreciate your ability to jump to the end, to the more
truth-ful place, where such things cannot just be granted.
[emoji4]
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