Mystery, Mystery & More Mystery: The Ponderings of Yaj Eiim

Copyright Page

All have the express written encouragement

To distribute this creation freely to any and all

Who have the eyes to see and the ears to hear

The mystery in which each and every one

Equally participates in so many ways.

Preface

Field Notes from the Unknown,

Dedicated to all those fated to ponder the mystery

From which all things great and small

Are equally created.

The First Page

We are all created of the same source,

By whatever name you might wish to call it.

Our sense of individuality is merely a fleeting illusion

Born of the attachment of consciousness to mind-body-spirit.

In reality, we are all equally the same awareness permeating all things.

All dualistic notions are vain delusion fabricated by imagination.

Yes, it all seems real and true enough at any given moment,

But if you fully contemplate the ever-present now,

You will discern that this state we call life

Is really nothing more than a very temporary

Touchy-feely, three-dimensional, sensory reverie.

The indivisible, absolute mystery, pretending existence.

* * * *

Everything comes and goes, appears and disappears,

Changes in each and every inexplicable moment.

A magical mystery tour of bewildering origin.

And to those many so full of themselves,

Unable to perceive the unfathomable

That every moment beckons their attention,

How did the mindboggling become so mundane?

* * * *

Discern the indivisible awareness prior to all attributes,

All genders, all languages, all ideologies, all creeds, all geographies,

All families, all friends, all acquaintances, all antagonists,

All anything, all everything, under any given sun.

Discern that which is solely awareness,

Unblemished by any perception

Born of conscious design,

Mortal or otherwise.

* * * *

Every existence is entirely unique

In this grand, magical theater of time and space.

The unfolding of the song of godness is a creation extraordinaire

In every way, shape and form into which the mystery

Has spontaneously, choicelessly unfolded.

You are one of countless dreams,

All witness to the totality,

That which is prior to all perception,

That which is absolute, both within and without,

That which is real, that which is true, that which is ever you.

No religion, no creed, no dogma in this world, or any other, speaks for that which is god.

They are all like blind men arguing over their limited perceptions of the elephant.

The dream is ever a mystery; none have ever owned it, and none ever will.

* * * *

You are neither the world nor the universe.

You are the indivisible that is witness prior to all creation.

You are the infinite awareness, the singularity

Of all that is, and all that is not.

* * * *

Immortality is not found in the body,

Nor in the time-bound legacies of history books.

It is ever in the seamless awareness of the indivisible moment.

It is the eternal you that peers out through the senses

Into the dreaming they and mind create.

* * * *

Every instant is an orchestrated streaming

Of creation, preservation, destruction,

The trilogy of dreamtime’s ever-present dynamic.

Name it whatever you will, the source of this boundless mystery

Is equally the same for the smallest as it is the greatest.

This ephemeral awareness belongs to no one.

It is the ether that permeates all things, transcends all things.

There are no individuals but in the imaginary reveries

Of the ever-changing theater of consciousness.

Prior to consciousness, there is only you,

In the greatest, most profound sense.

Humanity is a species fixated on the past,

On history, tradition, ritual, formula, this concept or that.

How challenging it is to view the streaming moment with fresh, clear eyes.

Our narcissistic vision is veiled by all we think we know,

We are blind to the mystery of Eden.

* * * *

To declare yourself either believer or atheist,

Implies that you somehow know something to be true

In the ultimate who, what, where, when, why, how conundrum.

Something that in reality cannot be known by anyone, anywhere, anytime.

Belief, faith, and hope are useless, delusional security blankets,

Vain pacifiers of the mind’s fear of the unknown.

An agnostic vision is the only truthful, accurate stance.

Even Self does not know how this amazing mystery came to be.

The nowness that is, has ever been, will ever be, is all any can truly know.

It is really all about patterns within patterns within patterns.

Infinitesimal, miniscule, tiny, small, medium, large,

Huge, immense, practically infinite patterns.

Patterns of all the swirling elements,

Of earth, air, water and fire,

All grandly, indivisibly woven together

Within the infinite quantum-ether-hologram-matrix-mystery.

Everything dancing its interpretation of Self away,

From every little way, unto the greatest.

There is no deeper, there is no greater,

There is nothing but the ever-streaming awareness

That has played out every fleeting moment that has ever passed

Within and without the only observer, the only witness there has ever been.

You.

* * * *

Abandon ye all futures, all pasts, all wants, all dreams, all hopes.

Right here, right now, in the awareness of the ever-flowing present moment,

Is the eternal life you pursue, the only existence you will ever have.

But you must die in the most figurative sense to discern it.

The mystery creates all of us equally buck-naked,

Same as every other life form across the entire garden.

It is only our kind who get all embarrassed and vain about it.

* * * *

The challenge is to grasp and release

Any given moment at the same moment.

To flow with the ever-streaming eternal reality,

Rather than the erratic stop-and-go

Of the mind chained in time.

Discern the no-mind,

The awareness prior to consciousness,

To clearly perceive the evolving creation with a divine eye.

Though we are all of the same formless origin,

Each of us is snared in an individual narcissistic reflection.

No one will ever interpret the mystery through the same looking glass,

So even the choir quibbles over this and that, that and this.

Less painful just to remain alone, inwardly still,

But it would seem few of us are willing

To be quite that anonymous.

Your proud, relatively brief mortal existence is naught but an infinitesimal scratch on a linear timeline

Born of an immeasurable mystery, by whatever metaphor you might choose to describe it:

Creation, genesis, big bang, or turtles all the way down, turtles all the way up.

Stardust playing out a paradigm invoked by the happenstance of human consciousness.

* * * *

Is a wave a wave, or is it water?

Is a beach a beach, or sand?

Is a bracelet a bracelet, or gold?

Is anything its ephemeral appearance,

Or the quantum matrix in which all forms dance?

* * * *

Forget everything, and the awareness is all that remains.

Everything before now, everything after now,

Is the ever-transitory movement of imagination.

The ground of awareness is very still, ever watchful,

The eternal witness watching itself dream.

* * * *

It is the divide within that you must make whole.

It is the war within with which you must make peace.

Awareness is seamless; without rends, without adversaries.

It withstands the onslaughts of the mind in time without effort.

Bound by no dream, it is indifferent to life, it is indifferent to its end.

It is you in the truest sense, permeating all that is, all that is not.

You can only know, you can only witness, your dream.

But realize your version is but one reflection, one resonance, one facet,

Of this infinite, mysterious, ever-kaleidoscoping crest-jewel.

And of its unknown origin, you can only experience

The infinite nothingness at the core within,

And awaken to the clear certainty

That it is really all you.

* * * *

Challenging to stay with the momentary awareness

Without the movement of thought kicking back into overdrive.

The inner and outer chatter is ever an enticement.

Sages talk a great deal of detachment,

Of dying to the world,

But even they can be entranced

By the sensory spin of the given day-to-day.

To be solely the awareness, completely alone, effortless,

Is a suspension of thought, a disinterest in the ever-churning world.

A state of quietude, stillness, serenity, grace; interesting only if you are truly content

To be done with all the many things your version of the universe offers.

No, it is not easy to let go, to be in the world but not of it,

Even for the briefest of these mortal times.

Truth is truth is truth is truth,

Unbound by any fabrication of consciousness.

Awareness is, indeed, witness to the mysterious majesty of all creation

But nothing that is conceived can ever be proclaimed

As the truth only truth can be.

* * * *

I am the Truth, the Life, and the Way,

And so are you,

And so is everyone and everything else,

And so is each and every part and particle of dust to the farthest shore,

And the infinity beyond all pales.

We are all awash in the immeasurable singularity of an imaginary matrix.

Nothing is separate, nothing greater or lesser, nothing mortal.

We are all birthed of the same inexplicable essence,

A kaleidoscoping dream of consciousness

To which each alone is witness.

* * * *

This is what it is really all about.

It is all you.

There is nothing more, nothing less.

There is no greater state than the timeless simplicity of awareness,

The reality through which all dreams play out

In any given dimension.

At what point did you begin losing your innocence?

At what point were you drawn out into the manifest world,

Into believing it real, into believing you were the cloak of identity

You have so diligently, and with such utter conviction, worn ever since?

The other has shaped you into believing you are an identity,

But it is only your collusion which makes it so.

The key to real freedom

Is discern the indivisible source,

And then surrender to that awareness,

The timeless witness prior to consciousness.

* * * *

Life is a maze we all wander alone

In the given body’s sensory matrix.

The drop is within the ocean, and the ocean within the drop.

The writing is within the writer, and the writer within the writing.

The painting is within the painter, and the painter within the painting.

The sculpture is within the sculptor, and the sculptor within the sculpture.

The garden is within the gardener, and the gardener within the garden.

All creation is within its creator, and the creator within all creation.

* * * *

You can only perceive the source you ever are

By being the very motionless awareness.

Eternal life is right here, right now,

Nothing more, nothing less, nothing but.

* * * *

Trying to meld a nondualistic view of this immeasurable mystery

With the egocentric-ethnocentric-geocentric collusions born of time

Requires way too many rationalizations, compromises, and contortions.

Just because some falsehood bears the authority of tradition means nothing.

Give no weight to what is unnecessary; travel the journey that calls you.

Your body is not really yours at all.

It is merely a temporary biological casing

From which you witness the mystery of creation.

Consciousness is in charge; you are just along for the ride.

This eternal moment, this stillness of awareness, is all there is,

No matter the form, no matter the time, no matter the context.

* * * *

The grand theater, and everything in it,

Is the dream of the mind-body.

You are the awareness,

The witness,

Which discerns all,

But is none of it all the while.

* * * *

We are all that which is God,

Merely moving about in different guises,

Identified by different names, speaking different tongues,

Playing out different realities, on different stages of the same mystery.

The body is the sanctuary, the temple, the portal in which awareness resides.

It is ever-changing, replete with every sort of irregularity, and fated to one day dissolve.

But for a relatively brief perception of time, always within the unending moment,

There is the opportunity for the temporal consciousness, the dream weaver,

To play out whatever capacity and limitation and inclination allow.

* * * *

Awareness is prior to all things

Born of thought, born of passion, born of time.

All naming is ultimately meaningless.

Even the greatest song of god

Is fated to be forgotten.

All that striving, all those memories, all those thoughts,

All those relationships born of the mystery’s quantum mirage,

You are not any of them, and never have been, really.

You are the clear space, the heart of awareness,

Absolute and sovereign beyond compare.

Humankind has expended a great portion of its recent so-called civilized history

Battling over the electromagnetic spectrum: wavelengths, frequencies, vibrations, light, sound.

Continuously struggling, quarreling, destroying -- over what is but a mere sliver of the indivisible mystery

That our sensory dwellings are capable of perceiving in the patterning of all things manifest.

How baffling that we have not fathomed a greater vision of our place in it all.

* * * *

There is no such thing as time; birth, life, death are but a dream.

There is only awareness, the you that has ever yet never been.

The passionate mind must be at rest

To discern the vastness within and without.

There are many techniques, many means, many ways,

To approach realizing this attentive, vulnerable state of awareness,

But the upshot, the bottom line, the bare essential, the brass tack, the nut and bolt,

The down-and-dirty-nitty-gritty-crux-of-the-matter, the sine qua non,

Is that the mind stills until only the witness remains.

* * * *

It is only in through the incessant movement of consciousness

That you separate yourself from the infinite source

Which is called by so many sounds.

Awareness is the same Soul

For all creation from great to small.

* * * *

Abiding in thought, in the metaphors of persona,

In the imaginary pretense of little self, is a form of death.

To die to all the fabricated concepts, all the notions of this or that,

To live attentive to the very present, timeless awareness,

Is to immerse in the eternal life you truly are.

Realize it or not, you are a particle of the grand mystery,

Of that indivisible essence which many call god.

Perhaps acting out some demon role,

But a shard, nonetheless.

You have only to look within

To discern the infinite awareness

Prior to the dreaming of time and space,

From which all have only in imagination splintered.

The real mystery

Is how so many tolerate

What took place tens, hundreds,

And so often even thousands of years ago,

To regulate their existence today.

What would you be doing

If it was just you,

All alone?

We are certainly intoxicated by all our noise and busy-busy,

But zip up a few hundred meters and stillness reigns.

The unknown is not bound by blah-blah or bling.

The mystery will spin on with or without us.

* * * *

Eternity is awareness now.

Time is the wake of memory.

The future is all possible paths.

Free will looking forward,

Fate looking back.

* * * *

Impromptu theater … nothing more … nothing less … nothing but.

The unknown playing its mystery out in any and every way

The dreamtime of imagination sets into motion.

Awareness, the underlying formless.

* * * *

The quantum mystery is you, and you are it.

You witness it, and it witnesses you.

You meditate upon its infinity,

And it upon your temporal limitation.

How could the indelible indivisibility be else?

Human beings quarrel over this and that, and that and this,

As if anything anyone declares or does really matters

Any more than whether a river trickles or roars.

The vast mystery is what it is, has ever been, will every be,

And nothing can ever add or detract from its ultimate indivisible nature.

The only thing that is perhaps even the least bit relevant

Is our relationship with the countless things

Its infinity has made manifest,

Including ourselves.

* * * *

What are the imaginary dualities to you

Who are the fundamental awareness in all things.

You who are serene witness to all creation.

Known or unknown, done or undone,

Oblivion is your singular nature.

In the ether of the quantum matrix, the four elements

Stream all about the awareness you truly are.

They cannot bind nor compel but through attachment

To the ephemeral, vaporous, mesmerizing reverie they inspire.

* * * *

If it is peace, tranquility, serenity, harmony, equanimity, stillness that you pursue,

It is not in these words, nor any others, in which it will be discerned.

Only in the sanctity of the awareness of your true Self,

Will you find that for which you long.

What is emancipation but a quality of mind

Free of any and all encumbrances, any and all notions.

Unfurl your essential, unconditional sovereignty

Into the stillness of untainted awareness.

* * * *

Happiness, sorrow, anger, hate, joy, love,

Emotions of any rhyme or reason, thoughts of any caliber,

Passions of any variety, what are they to the awareness you truly are, really?

Truth is a state, a quality of beingness,

The momentary, timeless, ephemeral awareness,

Not a vain assertion of consciousness.

* * * *

It is ever and always the same awareness within.

Only the play of imagination cloaks it otherwise.

You are the sky, not the weather;

The awareness, not the elements.

All is just distraction from what is.

Neither male nor female,

Good nor bad, right nor wrong,

Light nor dark, high nor low, near nor far.

Awareness is without principle.

The awareness at the source of all manifestation will ever wander along

With whatever dream consciousness wishes to play out.

Creation, preservation, destruction,

You choose.

* * * *

How long are we going to quarrel

Over which dogma is true,

Which version of the mystery is real,

When the only thing that has ever really been argued

Are the imaginings born of one geographical assumption or another.

* * * *

The ultimate reality is that each and every one of us

Has the opportunity to discern the mystery we all equally are.

But the conditioning, the mindsets, the traditions, the dogmas, the memes,

The identification of consciousness with the mind, the heart, the body, the world, the universe,

Have humankind locked in a stranglehold entirely of its own imaginary creation.

We are on a sure an unwavering course toward self-destruction,

An unfolding well beyond the point of no return.

What will come of it is the pulp of dystopian fiction.

Both believer and atheist

Pretend to know there is or is not a god.

But that you are is really the only fact worth considering,

And of the source of this infinite mystery, no one can really know anything.

Of the ultimate truth, the most earnest remain agnostic.

The journey of awakening to the indivisible seems an individual struggle,

An awareness of the vast totality to which the human species

May or may not be capable of collectively partaking

Before the temporal dream of consciousness

Reaches its inevitable conclusion.

Oh well and so it goes.

Never really mattered anyway.

* * * *

It takes a great deal of mettle

To doubt to the essential core of awareness.

Immortal fare is not for the meek who will inherit the earth,

And the dreaming it every moment inspires.

* * * *

Existence as it is known is nothing more than a foggy swirl of perceptions.

Eternal life is timeless awareness, free of memory, free of known.

It is the end of passion’s craving for any form or concept.

There is tabula rasa, an uncarved block, an unrippled soul, within,

But the imaginary, make-believe you, formed of consciousness,

Must become very still, very quiet, for its awareness to reign.

To fathom complete and utter freedom,

One must be very at rest in the momentary awareness.

Eternal life is not for those still seduced by the dream of manifest time.

Knowledge cleaves the enigmatic mystery of consciousness

Into every sort of dualistic conception under the sun.

The forbidden was harvested, and Eden lost.

Fallen monkeys, indeed.

And this pillaged garden will hobble on

For as long as humankind survives its memories real.

The one thing of which you can be very certain, across all time, across all space.

Is that you are not at all separate from anything, in any way, at any moment.

How do you discern this? Because you are the dreamer dreaming it all.

You are the seamless, singular awareness, the one and only reality.

You are awareness.

The rest is imagination.

Life is surfing within a dream,

Until the wave crashes.

Every life form that is born of this mysterious essence

Creates and experiences its own finite universe

With the same awareness inherent in all.

We are all That which never sleeps,

Is never born, and never dies.

* * * *

Every life form that is born of this mysterious essence

Creates and experiences its own finite universe

With the same awareness inherent in all.

We are all That which never sleeps,

Is never born, and never dies.

* * * *

The world is teeming with every sort of absurd claim.

The only real marvel is that we cannot discern

All are ultimately of the same mystery.

* * * *

What difference between a moment ago

And the one just before you were conceived?

All figments within the ether of an indivisible matrix.

* * * *

The body is not you; you are not the body.

You have no body, you never have, and you never will.

The mortal container is merely a fleeting means to one end or another,

A formless, indivisible infinity, without foundation,

Without beginning, without conclusion.

Awareness is the cradle

From which all things rise into being,

The coffin to which all things are one day laid to rest.

Knowing you are solitary witness to your version of the theater,

Discerning you are awareness manifest, how will you play out your role?

Will you be angel, or demon, or some spontaneous blend between?

It is your reverie to do as your desire, your law, dictates.

Be it heaven or hell, or some purgatory between,

It is your creation, and your will be done.

* * * *

Every point and particle of this reverie

Is ultimately to fully perceive the singular truth

That you are the eternal upwelling, that you are That I Am.

By whatever arbitrary sound you may describe it,

That Truth … that Life … that Way …

Is the awareness you ever are,

* * * *

A very ubiquitous, mysterious reality

In which every life plays out a little dream

On a maze of stage that winds this way and that,

Until in the death of breath do they part.

* * * *

Oblivion is the end to all lies, all fabrications, all self-deceptions.

It is the vital source, the essence prior to all becoming.

It is the experiencing prior to all experience,

The intangible prior to all that is tangible,

The awareness prior to consciousness,

The actuality prior to all that is imagined,

The substantial prior to all that is insubstantial,

That which is prior to all context, prior to all manifest dreams.

The big lesson humankind is still hard-pressed to learn, hard-pressed to even begin to grasp,

Is that absolutely everything is connected at every level across the board.

Each and every particle working, playing, dancing together,

Every simultaneous, unrehearsed moment,

To create this grand dream.

That so many take it all for granted,

And deceive themselves and others in so many ways,

That we have become so absurdly disjointed, is folly beyond the pale.

* * * *

From the quietude of boundless slumber, awareness awakens,

And gazing into the pool of memories, stokes the dream into another day.

Dust to dust, a few breaths, a few thoughts between.

Let the vanity begin.

We are all in the ultimate reality the same pure awareness.

It is neither yours, nor mine, nor anyone else's.

It is simply consciousness playing out

Its immeasurable potential.

* * * *

To be born again into the source of all things

Is to discard everything and just be

The stillness of no-mind.

Be … still.

* * * *

Are you a body experiencing awareness?

Or awareness experiencing a body?

Or perhaps both and neither?

That you are of god is not something to be taken vainly,

But as something to be discerned at the core of your being.

The kingdom of god is the sovereignty of the indivisible source,

Within all things both manifest and unmanifest.

The eternal matrix is all-inclusive,

Including even you.

* * * *

There is only one awareness,

There is only one consciousness,

Splintered into an endless array of forms,

Playing out every prospect imagination deigns.

A capricious ocean of surging tides and crashing waves,

But an ocean, nonetheless.

* * * *

‘Supreme Being’ is being in the most

Omniscient, omnipotent, omnipresent way.

It is less about some imaginary, individual deity,

Than it is the austerity of pure, unadulterated awareness.

Agape is the indivisible, unconditional, impersonal indifference.

In youth, life is full of vitality and learning,

But mortal reality – injury, illness, aging, death –

Gradually erode the many illusions of blissful ignorance.

Questions arise about the ever-changing light show of the universe.

And those who give it earnest and unwavering attention,

Discern the awareness, and its immortal nature.

* * * *

How is it anyone truly believes some sort of alien race was required to create our kind,

Or set us on some sort of long, winding, convoluted, evolutionary journey?

How is it anyone could gaze upon this astonishing garden planet

And not assume it entirely capable of being the source

Of all the innumerable life forms it sustains?

It is a curious thing that so many require the belief

In some outside intervention to explain the mystery they are.

By the time you recognize and react to any given memory,

Awareness has already moved on to the next,

And the many nexts beyond that.

And on and on,

An eternal, immortal sprite,

You can never touch, never catch, only be.

* * * *

Sometimes it is heaven, sometimes it is hell.

Consciousness is flip-flop like that.

Awareness does not care.

What is heaven but hope, and hell, dread.

The nectar of awareness is prior to both.

* * * *

You see only what you perceive.

You see only what you know.

You see only what you believe.

Everyone is but a frame of reference.

* * * *

What desire, what fear can there be,

If you are immersed in the awareness

Of the unfolding ever-present moment?

* * * *

All dogma, all vanity, all everything,

Ripples from consciousness, not awareness.

From mind, not that which is witness to all creation.

Who, what, where, when, why, how … does any universe come into being,

But through the awareness of the observer, the beholder, the witness.

All based on structure, sensory input, capacities and limitations.

Every creature great to small resides in a cosmos of its own weaving.

* * * *

Ultimately, there is no evil, there is no sin, there no dark side.

There is only corrupted, twisted, perverted consciousness.

There is only the veiling, the muddying of awareness.

There is only ignorance and delusion and duality.

Evil does not truly exist in any way or shape or form,

But through the vanity-vanity-all-is-vanity of imagination.

The senses offer an ever-kaleidoscoping, timeless universe.

Why be overly concerned about where it has been, or where it is headed,

When the ever-present nowness is in itself so extraordinary,

A mystery to be witnessed however any wills.

Awareness has no bond to time and space

Other than to witness its ever-kaleidoscoping nature.

How can that which is indivisibly eternal

Ever be bound by any creation?

* * * *

Sometimes serious, sometimes absurd,

Sometimes intelligent, sometimes foolish,

Sometimes divisive, sometimes incisive,

Ever eternally, inscrutably indivisible.

A mystery no matter how long it is,

A mystery no matter how short it is.

You need not participate in any mindset, any groupthink, large or small.

Cleanse your mind, your awareness, of all memes, all inventions, all fictions,

All contrivances fashioned of imagination’s perpetual collection of absurd notions.

Stand alone, and be as inwardly free as the moment before you were conceived.

All consciousness is of arbitrary design.

The only absolute is the eternal awareness

Prior to all dreams born of a sensory nature.

* * * *

A drop alone is merely a drop,

But all together they compose a mighty sea.

Such is the nature of awareness, and the infinity of universes

Made manifest in the ever-kaleidoscoping creation.

* * * *

You truly yearn to know, to touch that which is God?

Then just be very, very still, and in the effortless awareness,

You will discern the true nature permeating all from small to great.

You who have discerned truth, know it to be you, know it to be me,

Know it to be everything within, everything without.

No need for words, no need for dogma,

Awareness sees all.

It really does not matter one speck, one smidgen, one iota,

What anybody thinks or believes about anything.

You have always been nothing more

Than the awareness of the eternal present,

Never the dream born of the mind bound in time.

* * * *

Find a space where you can sit quietly, alone.

Ignore the ever-churning sensory theater.

Allow the thoughts to pass without interference.

Observe completely the beingness throughout the passing.

That simple awareness, that nowness, is the eternal, original nature.

To abide in the essential ever-fleeting moment, the mind still,

Is liberation from the fabrications of false identity.

Move prior to concept, to form, to struggle.

Be simple, carefree, serene, tranquil, absolute, sovereign.

For those lacking discernment, the ceaseless inventions of dualistic notion

Are but the quagmire of knowledge, of opinions, of beliefs,

Absorption in the voracious mind-body identity,

In the ever-beckoning sirens of desire.

All merely distractions

From the timeless awareness,

The every-moment one-and-only reality

Within and without all creations great and small.

Why anyone would believe in a deity

That wants them or others to suffer

Is perhaps the only real mystery.

Awareness is not a belief system.

It is that which is prior to consciousness

And requires nothing but unconditional attention

For you to be both its master and its servant.

The quantum matrix can indeed be in far more than two dimensions in any given moment.

In fact, it is capable of generating an incalculable number of permutations

Of anything and everything, wherever consciousness abides.

Far more grand than any god imaginable.

So many things true, so many things false,

In so many minds, in so many times, in so many spaces,

Yet, no matter how many differences this endless mystery may spawn,

All are, have ever been, will ever be, of the same origin.

* * * *

A wealthy life is having the health, the means, the spirit,

To do whatever the mystery-given capacities and limitations allow.

Your destiny is already written in the dusty sands of time.

You just have to every moment scrawl it out

In whatever way you will.

Just say no to the mumbo-jumbo of all superstition,

All the false, delusional authorities born of time and circumstance.

Discern that the source of the ever-present awareness

Is the immeasurable, absolute You.

What siren-like enticement it is to believe memories

Any more than dead things, when the only thing that is,

Is this very ungraspable moment of still, timeless awareness.

The actuality is that you are not, you were not, you will never be.

You need not care about the dreamtime in which quantum mind dwells.

* * * *

Sooner or later the given existence will reach its termination, as all dreams do.

May as well dance as well as you can for as long as the cadaver is able.

What any of us may endure as we head into our endgame

Is a choiceless reckoning that all must face alone.

To cast off before your time may or may not be an option,

Depending on disposition, opportunity, or sense of obligation to others.

Not easy to let go of existence when you have spent so much of it struggling to survive.

Yet, what point is there in allowing this three-dimensional reverie to meander into some nightmare?

What obligation does anyone have to live out a dream for which they did not ask?

What is this unfathomable mystery that is called god

By many names, many sounds, many vibrations,

But a cloud of untainted, vibrant awareness,

The nothingness prior to consciousness,

The indivisible, enigmatic upwelling,

The oblivion before all patterns,

The stillness before all time,

The soul of all creation.

Eternal life is simply living in the awareness of the ever-streaming moment,

Oblivious to the space and time in which the manifest mind abides.

The state of being when the allure of the many attributes,

The countless fabrications of imagined identity,

Lose all meaning, all purpose, all concern,

When the magnitude of the singular present is all.

You are the mystery, you are the awareness, you are the source,

You cannot disengage from the ever-present indivisibility.

To suppose that you are separate, that your personality

Is any more than an invention of consciousness,

Is unutterably delusional from the get-go.

The first and last breath of all time and space is within each and every one of us,

A fluid infinity of swirling elements, an immeasurable quantum mystery,

Effortlessly flowing through all beginning, through all endings,

From seed to seed, form to form, through all creation.

* * * *

The occupied, inattentive mind is always willing

To waylay the stillness of awareness

With its windy this or that.

Being in the moment

Is not for the meek of spirit.

The universe created by the senses

Will draw you again and again into the grand illusion.

For the unsteady mind still mesmerized by the pitter-patter of time and space,

The waking-sleeping-waking of it is ever a Sisyphean challenge.

It requires great discipline to resist the dream,

And be the momentary awareness

Prior to consciousness.

How strange it all is to be cast into an existence

In which every sort of heaven and hell is played out within and without.

An ethereal, touchy-feely, three-dimensional, quantum-matrix of a dream, until death do you part.

When you were young and innocent, the movement of consciousness

Was like fresh sap flowing mightily through a spring tree.

As existence passed by with its many seasons

There arose a vague awareness

Of the vast, yawning expanse within.

Of the quietude that had always been present

Since the passionate journey in time and space began.

The indelible stillness that few are discerning enough to perceive.

Now you are in that portion of life when you make peace with the passions,

And quietly prepare for the end of time, and complete surrender to the eternal origin.

From the stillness of awareness, all potentials spring,

Into the stillness of awareness, all potentials subside.

To all who truly, earnestly doubt,

It is you, you truly pursue

In that awareness so singular,

Where all trails end, at the end of you.

* * * *

The most sincere answer

To inquiries about your date of birth

Is that you are really not sure you were ever born.

* * * *

Personality is reaction to the sensory play.

It is the response of the mind-body to its environment.

The disharmony of duality dissolves as concern for mortality dissolves.

Attention shifts from the travails of imagination to the awareness prior to consciousness.

From desire, fear, anger, sorrow, separation in any of it many forms,

To the indivisible serenity of the eternal witness.

You are the mystery,

Forever unknown, indivisible,

One in all, all in one.

This plain and simple reality at the core of all things requires no following, no imitation.

It is simply looking closely within and discerning the awareness

You truly are, have ever been, will ever be.

We are all the same indivisible, seamless, quantum matrix.

Synergistically creating and preserving and destroying it all together.

The source, the wellspring, and all the countless dreamers, are one in the same.

Existence for the rare few is an inquiry

Into the mystery that is prior to consciousness.

For most others it is every diversion consciousness allows.

How free any given newborn.

Pure awareness, untouched, untrammeled,

By all the past events or future concerns, all the burdens,

All the baggage they will one day inevitably carry in dreamtime’s passing.

* * * *

For those fully imbibing the stillness before time, there is a return to wonder.

From the source within, from oblivion's rainbow, the song of awareness.

* * * *

Be the totality of awareness.

The only way out is within.

When the mind is still, where is the yearning for continuity?

Where is the notion of duality that harbors passion?

Where is the player, the actor, the identity?

Where is the witness woven of time?

What is there but the awareness of emptiness?

What is there but that birthless-deathless creation of all?

What is there but eternal life, eternal oblivion, eternal redemption?

* * * *

Every seer taps into the unknown

With a filtered, incomplete frame of reference,

And thus dogma, and its seemingly countless mischiefs, takes root.

Ever a cautionary tale.

* * * *

You are only bound by mortal limitations

While there is identification with the given mind-body.

Awareness is without imaginary attributes.

* * * *

Humankind projects its ceaseless conceit

Upon an infinite mystery indifferent to its existence.

What is called death, that state so many fear in so many ways,

Is merely evaporation into the impersonal reality,

The oblivion of the ultimate nature.

* * * *

Complete and utter stillness

Is the serenity in which all things great and small

Play out their personal dreams in an infinite, indivisible, holographic matrix.

A universe in which creator and creation are one in the same.

* * * *

God as projected by the dogmatic mind is patently, woefully absurd.

That which is eternally omnipotent, omnipresent, omniscient

Cannot be confined in any way, any shape, any form.

The mystery is ever unknown, ever insoluble.

All assertions are but vain speculation and hearsay.

100

We are all of the same awareness

Etched by the diversity of consciousness

Into untold assumptions of self-absorbed pretense.

It is only at the source that you will discern

The vast, indivisible commonality.

There truly is no other.

Thou art God.

* * * *

It appears that you are ensnared for yet another day

In this mortal frame, so profoundly temporal.

Yet you are not a body, you are not a mind.

You are not, have never been, nor will ever be,

Bound by any manifest container that any creation,

No matter how inexplicable, has ever, or can ever, muster.

* * * *

You are that which is brick and mortar to all spaces, all times.

That which is witness to every dimension, every dream.

That which is awake even during the deepest sleep.

That which is asleep in even the most alert vigil.

That which is the tiniest, infinitesimal point.

That which is the most infinite expanse.

That which none can either claim to be,

Nor feign, except in delusion, not to be.

That which is, ever was, and will ever be.

That which is not, never was, and will never be.

The quantum matrix prior to all imaginings born of mind,

The eternal nature prior to all attributes formed of consciousness,

Indivisible, unblemished, singular, supreme, sovereign, absolute, without peer.

101

The harvest of a free mind is awareness,

The complete and utter stillness of oblivion.

* * * *

Freedom is within each and every moment

You are simple enough to simply be.

To clearly discern true Self,

Merely set aside vanity, become very still,

And soully be the unvarnished, unblemished awareness,

The awareness, the upwelling, that is, has always been, and will ever be.

102

Would that this simple insight about truth were not such an uncommon commodity.

That it were an every-moment-every-man-woman-and-child awareness.

Something discerned at the marrow of each and every one,

Without any conflict, any confusion, whatsoever.

* * * *

In what field of gold can you ever truly harbor

But the awareness you have within always been.

104

Just how present can you really be

But through the complete and utter stillness

Of the pure, ever-streaming awareness.

Eternal life is as simple as it gets.

106

Every streaming moment within the awareness of every form, ever the same timeless oneness.

Not an easy truth, not an easy reality, not easy in any way to wrap ye old gray matter around.

* * * *

Only you, in pure, unsullied awareness,

Can cast your Self free of all constraints.

108

Words come to many who clearly discern the truth of this mystery.

There is no possession, there is no ownership of the song of godness.

Nothing about which to manifest the unending mayhem of dogma.

109

Awareness is eternity’s teflon.

* * * *

The quantum matrix abides all things.

110

Every school of thought, every experience gleaned,

Yet another filter through which to witness

The mystery of the unknown,

The matrix now.

111

Any container by its nature must play out its limited role

In whatever way the matrix of the moment has in play.

112

To see the simple truth of eternity’s ultimate grace

As clearly as momentary awareness allows,

Is to become inwardly, very, very still,

A shave, just a shave, mind you,

More than death its Self.

113

No matter where you may be in this vast mystery of creation,

No matter how many ways you find to distract your Self,

You are ultimately and forever alone all the while.

115

How many have realized

That Jesus was an antichrist?

That what we call Christian religion,

Along with all the other creeds of this world,

Has become exactly what he died advocating against.

That which dogmas across this mystery fear most

Are intractable individuals who point out

That the only authentic religion,

The only true church

Is the golden cathedral within.

116

Instinct is the foundation

Upon which consciousness is birthed,

Yet the jewel crest of awareness is for few to discern.

Wisdom is the untainted journey of godness,

A path to which many are called,

But few are chosen.

117

Forget what your eyes have seen,

Your ears have heard, your nose has smelled,

Your tongue has tasted, your hands and body have felt.

Forget everything the indivisible weavings of earth, water, air, and fire,

Have ever concocted in this temporary mortal container.

Allow the mind to become utterly still,

Timelessly present, completely anonymous.

You will, in those moments of absolute awareness,

Be what you truly are, have always been, and will ever be.

* * * *

The matrix bids you welcome to the Land of Ozurdity.

119

What need for any belief system, any dogma, any speculation, any meme,

Once you discern the awareness permeating all things great and small.

* * * *

You have seen reflections of it.

You have seen photographs and drawings of it.

But you have never, and will never, see your face the way others see it.

Behind the given mask, we are all the same mystery.

121

DNA suffers no ethical dilemmas, no moral quagmires.

Its only mindless concern is its genetic survival and continuity.

In that quest, no course of action endures any reflection, whatsoever.

“The end justifies any means” is its only true law, its only abiding directive.

Anyone living is only here now because of every possible permutation imaginable

Since the mystery of existence came into being in the puddle of some long ago.

124

No place to anchor in the nothingness of pure awareness.

128

The church of awareness is in every moment of every day.

To attend only one sunrise-sunset a week misses out on the other six,

And that is just in one week, of just one year, of just one life.

And do not leave out all the starry-starry nights.

129

Truth is not something that can be attained

In any imaginable way, shape, or form.

It is merely source to the ever-fleeting,

Ever-mysterious, ever-indivisible moment.

* * * *

If you wish to know god,

Then observe within very closely,

Until you clearly perceive that the awareness

Is the indivisible source to which all are seamless witness.

Neither yours, nor mine, nor anyone else’s.

131

We are all merely monkeys here, an entire planet covered with monkeys.

Jesus was a monkey, and so were Buddha, Muhammad, Lao Tzu, and Nietzsche.

Your father and mother are monkeys, and your brothers, your sisters, your grandparents,

And your uncles and aunts and cousins and friends and acquaintances and strangers and enemies,

And even you, are all just two-legged tree-swingers who one day climbed down,

And wandered out into the plains, and across the pale blue dot.

* * * *

The heart of awareness has nothing to do with romantic notion.

* * * *

You are not your body, your mind, your relationships, your things.

You are not your likes and dislikes, nor the perceptions of all your memories.

You are not your world, you are not your universe, you are not anything under any sun.

You are naught but the awareness of totality witnessing a magical mystery tour of quantum design.

133

There is no separation in the awareness,

But through the play of consciousness,

And all its sensory-based differences.

134

The mystery of existence,

A few breaths, a few heartbeats,

Nothing more, nothing less, nothing but.

* * * *

Your world, your universe, expands in consciousness

Until you at long last realize fully that it never really existed

As anything more than a indivisible, ephemeral dream,

To which eternal awareness is sovereign witness.

136

The grace of this unknowable mystery is within all great and small,

Discerned fully by the few granted the vision and insight,

And the inclination to peer eye wide open within.

137

The senses are ripples away from the awareness where you abide.

The eyes, the ears, the tongue, the nose, the flesh, all feeding into the mind,

How can they ever be the one and only you, but through attachment to assumptions?

How can they ever be more than distant devices to be witnessed however nature-nurture allows?

138

It is not through words that reality is discerned.

Concepts are but the winds of sound blowing this way and that,

The awareness you are, utterly still throughout.

For that which you truly are,

There is no name.

139

Awareness is all.

140

It is consciousness that steeps in passion and fear.

Awareness is incapable of knowing any difference.

141

It is only consciousness that is harbor

To all the agonies and ecstasies of passion.

The eternal awareness is neither here nor there.

142

It is all just imagination’s attachment to this or that.

A sensory dream in the matrix of eternity.

You are untainted awareness,

Nothing more, nothing less, nothing but.

Just putting in your time in whatever way the dream calls.

144

Quantum awareness.

* * * *

So much of everything within any given cosmos,

Nothing new, nothing old, everything the same, nothing the same.

On and on the unknowable conundrum churns, ever creating, preserving, destroying,

The timeless in every mind’s eye, witness to a kaleidoscoping sensory mirage.

The awareness has awakened to so many dreams, to so many universes,

To so many passions, to so many reflections of consciousness,

The eternal in which miniscule to gigantic equally abide.

You are it, it is you, there is ultimately no other.

145

The truth of it is, that not even one atom

Across an entire cosmos indivisibly full of them,

Can for even one iota of an eternal moment, still itself.

And yet, the awareness within and without its ever-churning all,

Has never once, across all time and space, even stirred.

* * * *

For what, exactly, are you hoping?

Power? Fame? Fortune? Security? … Immortality?

You already have so much: life, awareness, health, food, water, air …

As austere as it may sound, the things often taken for granted are truly your greatest wealth.

After all, you only abide this manifest play for as long as mortal fate allows.

Try not to squander its brief window of beingness too lightly.

146

Only minds shackled to time and space require meaning and purpose.

The sage wanders freely in the quietude of eternal awareness.

All meaning and purpose evaporates when you do.

* * * *

If you are not privy the source of this vast mystery, how can anyone else be?

An agnostic stance is the middle way between the true believers of any assertion.

148

In the ocean of metaphors, awareness abides indivisible.

149

Those who long for a serene existence put aside their many passions,

And surrender to the awareness in which all creation is harbored.

151

How curious that those who spend their existence in scholarship

Are never able to entirely examine all the knowledge

The mystery ever-entices them to create.

152

The awareness is the ever-present witness.

The observer and the observed are indivisibly one.

It is only in imagination that dualistic notion finds lodging.

Consciousness, no matter how profound or creative,

Can never be anything more than imaginary.

* * * *

We are all of the same mystery, the same eternal Soul,

But the character, the personality, the identity,

Wears the cloak of whatever illusory dream

The given nature-nurture has spawned.

Nothing about which to be inflated, really.

* * * *

The elements ever indivisibly combine, break apart, and re-combine

In their inexplicable, immutable, mysterious, sovereign fashion,

And the given mind follows in whatever meager way it will.

153

To believe the awareness is yours or anyone else’s,

Is a misguided assumption without any validity, whatsoever.

A complete misapprehension of the essential commonality of all creation.

154

It is all you,

Terribly, wonderfully, absolutely alone,

A vast stillness without measure, without rhyme or reason, without cause or effect,

Without purpose or meaning, without beginning or end,

What else would godness be?

* * * *

What is it to be born again,

But to be the awareness of a newborn,

As still and silent and attentively timeless as the cosmos,

From whence all things great and small have been immaculately woven.

155

It is only in human consciousness

That the disharmony of dualistic notion takes place.

At whatever level you might examine this infinite, indivisible matrix of a dream

– Physics, chemistry, biology – everything is connected

Without any distinction, whatsoever.

* * * *

You were never really born,

You have never existed,

You have no future,

You have no past.

You are the I in I,

The Am in Am,

The That in That.

You are That I Am.

The Truth, the Life, the Way.

Awareness, pure, simple, eternally free.

156

Whatever the source of the mystery, you are also.

How could you not be?

* * * *

What conclusion can there ever possibly be

To a mystery capable of dreaming

Without beginning or end?

* * * *

The awareness that transpires in this eternal now

Is indifferent to this temporal theater born of time and space.

So the good news, really, is that it can all be considered absolute bullshit.

157

What an amazing dream

All that food and drink

Has this moment created.

Even an ocean of absurdity

Cannot undo the mystery of it all.

161

Smaller and smaller, infinitesimally smaller, or larger and larger, infinitely larger.

How can there ever be any end, any finale to this intractable mystery?

Be still, and know that which is all, that which is none.

* * * *

Imagination is, within the vastness of awareness,

Both least and greatest common denominator.

162

How can awareness be thought to have either beginning or end,

When its momentary nature is so ever-present as to be absolutely eternal.

Consciousness, however, is an entirely different bag of worms.

For all practical purposes, it is unable to hold still,

And is insatiably able and willing

To distract itself and over and over,

With every antic it can possibly conceive.

* * * *

The activist sees the mystic and calls his way pointless.

The mystic sees the activist and calls his way pointless, as well.

So many ways to point out the pointlessness

Of the same and only mystery.

* * * *

Consciousness will never do more than speculate on how this mystery came to be.

All anyone can ever do is be in the moment, however it is playing out.

Time is born of mind, it is nothing more than imagination.

You were not, you are not, you need not care

163

Awareness, from cradle to grave, ever the same.

* * * *

In awareness, all potentials reside.

* * * *

The truest mystery is without solution.

165

We are all dreams in each other’s minds,

Different players kaleidoscoping across the same stage,

Dancing in the quantum matrix, in whatever way consciousness calls.

166

You will play out whatever fate the quantum matrix has allotted.

Whatever genetic lottery has been formulated, whatever stage has been erected,

Whatever dice have been rolled, whatever hand has been dealt.

So it goes, deal with it, get over it, move on.

167

In every moment,

A new opportunity to discern

The mystery streaming indivisibly within.

168

It is the dust of stars and shit of dinosaurs that has allowed you

The vision and insight to consciously bear witness

To this infinite mystery of a universe,

A creation entirely born

Of your own imaginary design.

171

Be it long or short, smooth or rutted, all philosophizing eventually circles back to you.

Ever the same mysterious awareness, ever unknown, without beginning, without ending.

You are it, it is you, and all your profound speculations mean absolutely diddly-squat.

* * * *

It is the dust of stars and shit of dinosaurs that has allowed you

The vision and insight to consciously bear witness

To this infinite mystery of a universe,

A creation entirely born

Of your own imaginary design.

* * * *

There is most definitely an omnipotent,

Omnipresent, omniscient god,

If you wish to call it that.

A state both infinite and finite,

Of which you are a sparkle of awareness,

A witness to the mystery of your most eternal origin.

173

Awareness is the moment, ever still.

Consciousness starts, sticks, stops,

And confabulates without end.

174

The greatest view of the history of all manifestation

Would be the fusion of every universe born of conscious design.

It would include a seamless wander through the matrix, through every nook and cranny

To which the mystery of imagination is witness in every way possible.

All within the infinite, indivisible, timeless stillness

Of that source prior to all naming,

That source prior, even,

To that which many call god.

* * * *

The given universe kaleidoscopes around the sensory body,

Consciousness ceaselessly fabricating every sort of this or that, or that or this,

But, in reality, the awareness merely witnesses a seamless stream.

Vibration, limited by the boundaries of imagination.

175

Every existence is a unique seed born of the same essence, the same mystery.

All are mortal portals through which awareness witnesses

The enigma of its eternal nature.

* * * *

Awareness.

Nothing more, nothing less, nothing but.

* * * *

All imagination is illusion, samsara, the play of the quantum ether,

Earth … water … air … fire … in all its countless forms,

All its theaters of consciousness … across all time, across all space,

In how ever many dimensions this inexplicable mystery has deigned to create.

176

What is so arduous about realizing the truth,

That the awareness within all, the witness within all,

Is entirely detached, objectively indifferent, benignly disengaged,

To the countless dreams of consciousness in all its pursuits, in all its passions.

Awareness is the mysterious spirit of totality, call it god if you must;

Consciousness, but the splintering of dualistic notion.

You are it, it is you, there is no other.

* * * *

The mortal mind is transfixed

By the ceaseless permutations of limitation.

As for that which is immortal, well, find even one boundary, if you can.

After all, the indivisible is indivisible much farther

Than any eye will ever see.

* * * *

If you want world peace, still that busy mind,

And in awareness take in a few deep breaths.

* * * *

What else do you possibly need

Once simple awareness

Is nectar enough?

178

It has never really been the résumé of experience,

In which any mortal existence has from birth to grave danced.

It is the indivisible holographic matrix of awareness,

In which all creation has ever basked.

179

How else would awareness witness the creation

But through all its many eyes, ears, tongues, noses, skins,

And whatever other senses this quantum mystery may have concocted.

* * * *

Humans across this spinning garden

Have many names for its evolving mystery,

And not even one of them matters at all in the least.

180

You cannot really know eternal life,

That moment where life and death are not,

Until the mind stills to the nowness of awareness

Prior to all movement of consciousness.

* * * *

It is through the many reflections of the other

That any given one awakens to truth.

Who knows how many ways, how many places,

The mystery has awoken to its Self throughout its eternal play.

181

Any given seed is merely a temporal blueprint

Through which the omniscient, omnipresent, omnipotent quantum awareness

Witnesses all creation, all things from great to small,

Playing out their patterning

As the matrix of manifest time dictates.

* * * *

Where does awareness begin?

And where can it possibly end?

* * * *

Is there anyone in this temporal theater

Who is always happy, or always miserable?

Surely, the mind is far too intemperate a beast

To maintain any state more than the shortest while

In the ever-changing milieu of this inconstant mystery.

186

A breath filled with awareness

Is a much more admirable companion

Than all those wayward thoughts.

Make each a full embrace

Of the Soul you are.

* * * *

As to the question of so many unconfirmed mysteries,

Unless you have actually experienced something for your Self,

Something that may even be asserted by large groups or the influential,

(e.g., God, ghosts unidentified flying objects, abominable snowmen,

Vast conspiracies by unseen organizations, et cetera ad infinitum),

An assertion that is, as yet, unproven in your own experience,

Truly, an agnostic position is the only honest state of mind.

187

There is nothing not born of the same mystery,

But the real mystery is how we have made it this far,

How we have survived all our vain foolishness for this long.

* * * *

Mother Nature only allows each of us

To play out this little reverie for the briefest of whiles,

And then one-by-one melts all down for another generation’s accession.

To think of oneself as more than a fleeting piece of jewelry

Is to miss discerning the essence you really are

In this indivisible matrix of a theater.

188

Just say no to scriptures, dogmas, idolatry, crystal basilicas, dress codes,

All the absurd belief systems born of the conditioned mind.

You are it, it is you, plain and simple, absolute.

The one and only house of godness

Is the awareness within,

Sovereign, indivisible, complete.

* * * *

Without a mirror, a photograph, a drawing, or any other reflection or memory,

Describe your face as the awareness sees it from within right now.

Eyes, nose, ears, mouth, chin, hair, teeth, skin, eyebrows,

And what of your neck, shoulders and back?

Cannot do it? Well, why is that?

189

If this thing we call time really existed, would not you be able to halt it?

Or at least wander to and fro in the manifest here and there?

As it is, imagination is the only time machine,

And all it has going is the ethereal filament of perception,

Only as good as the wiring, and only for long as the gray matter holds fast.

190

The matrix is the void filled with you.

* * * *

You are that which is prior to the consciousness

That contorts into the dream of little self in the frontal lobe.

You are the witness, the awareness, the source,

Through which all dreams are played.

191

What is this magical-mystery-tour of a universe but a vast ecosystem

Of the for-all-practical-as-well-as impractical-purposes infinite kind.

* * * *

Being mindful of the source of consciousness, that which you truly are,

Is not a belief system, nor anything about which to be dogmatic.

It is simply an experiential awareness of the timeless now,

The observer inherent in all things small to great.

192

Go back, back, back,

To the beginning of existence,

To the awareness prior to the universe,

To the newborn’s eternal filled-with-wonder mind

Before the patterning began carving itself

Into the consciousness you call you.

Dare again to be completely

And utterly free.

* * * *

Everything is real, nothing is real.

Everything is good, nothing is good.

Everything is special, nothing is special.

Everything is mystery, nothing is mystery.

Everything is sacred, nothing is sacred.

Everything is god, nothing is god.

* * * *

The same magic,

The same mystery,

The same miracle,

The same wonder,

The same source,

Is in everything.

* * * *

There is nothing in which to believe

Once you realize you are the heart of awareness,

The source of all things great and small, absolutely nothing at all.

193

Challenging to get a handle

On a mystery beyond measure.

Too small to see, too large to carry.

* * * *

We honor, commemorate, memorialize, celebrate, venerate,

The death and destruction wrought by war and conflict

Because we so little appreciate the mystery of life.

196

Anyone, anywhere, anytime, the awareness you are, is.

198

Intellectual silliness, that is all philosophy is.

A distraction until you are content

To do nothing but be

The awareness you truly are.

* * * *

Awareness is an infinite field.

It cannot be contained by any dogma,

Any creed, any belief, any faith, any philosophy,

Any ideology, any principle, any law,

Any thought, whatsoever.

199

With every birth great to small, the mystery gets a new set of eyes,

A new reflection, a new paradigm, a new universe,

From which to witness creation.

* * * *

Unless you put aside everything you have been told

And examine the mystery for your Self,

You will likely just become

Another meme,

Smugly complacent

With false gold and delusion.

* * * *

It is not your awareness, my awareness,

Nor any other’s awareness.

It is simply awareness,

And we are all quite equally it.

201

The challenge is to discern the passing dream of consciousness,

The here and now, as it is, fresh, without preconception.

To detach the filter of the mind caught in time,

To see reality, not how you think it is,

But clearly, from the stillness of attentiveness,

Without concept, feeling, motive, stereotype, prejudice.

To fathom the mystery of youness from oblivion’s point of view.

* * * *

It is but a dream,

A streaming figment of imagination.

Abandon the quixotic mind and take up permanent residence

In the heart and soul of awareness.

203

What is this dreamy existence

But an immeasurable, indivisible matrix,

A dynamic stillness ceaselessly creating every patterning

The essential nature, the source, can fathom.

* * * *

We all have the same monkey-mind,

But for whatever reason, some are able to pull back

And meticulously examine the unknown all creation has in common.

It is, indeed, a mystery beyond the pale of any reckoning.

204

There is an awareness, but it cannot be grasped.

There is an absolute, but it cannot be defined.

There is a mystery, but it cannot be solved.

There is a truth, but it cannot be known.

* * * *

That which is eternal, that which is by many called God,

Has never really been alive in more than an imaginary, figurative sense.

How can that which can never perish have ever been born?

All existence is of the same quantum mystery.

205

Death only means an individual existence is all said and done.

But no life form can ever even know what is done is done,

Because consciousness requires some sort of form,

Some sort of sensory-awareness receiving unit,

Able to perceive whatever ethereal dream

Those whimsical fates have in store.

206

From the ordinary day-to-day, all myths, all legends, are fabrications of imagination.

All creation is very much born of the same quantum mystery.

Keep the balderdash in perspective.

* * * *

Mystic, seer, hierophant, minister, priest, sanyasi, sage, prophet, priest, vicar,

Spiritualist, wizard, monk, soothsayer, clairvoyant, prescient, fortuneteller, forecaster, oracle,

Sorcerer, diviner, sibyl, augur, prognosticator, crystal-gazer, medium, herald, psychic,

Telepathist, mind reader, cleric, preacher, rector, parson, reverend, holy man,

All descriptions of those inquiring into that which is genuine and true,

That mystery which is the ever same no matter the eye or ear.

208

The scribe knows what is being written, but what are you reading?

The speaker knows what is being spoken, but what are you hearing?

Everything you see, touch, hear, feel, smell is but an arbitrary translation

Of the subjective nature-nurture mind-body in which the awareness dwells,

The witness before which creation is filtered through the caprice of imagination.

The observer is the never the observed, the observed is never the observer.

True objectivity is an impossible ideal, an unreachable brass ring,

Which even science can never more than pretend to attain.

209

Where does the you that you think is you begin?

And the me that I think is me end?

‘Tis a mystery,

Every moment a spin.

* * * *

Any given universe is but a neurological array,

An indelible mystery no matter how it is framed.

213

The nothingness of awareness fabricating every moment resoundingly clear.

* * * *

Awareness can only be spoken of, not for.

214

Awareness, pure and simple.

215

What flaw can there be in the crescent jewel of awareness?

217

Nothing done or said is going to make it any less a mystery.

218

Yet another anonymous face in the mystery of dreamtime.

* * * *

Those who have awakened in awareness, flow.

219

Eternal life is the birth and death of awareness streaming within every moment.

224

The unknown is ever the realm of awareness.

231

There is the imaginary existence of consciousness: worldly, temporal, secular, profane, mundane.

Naught but a brief illusion, a brief collusion, a brief delusion of time and space.

But the real and only you, the real existence, the real eternal life,

Is the indelibly, indivisibly, absolute awareness.

You are the way, the truth, the life.

There is no other.

* * * *

Nature is the quantum mystery’s expression.

You are of nature, you are the quantum mystery,

Corrupted as it is by the whimsies of consciousness.

* * * *

We are all but pawns of the genetic lottery

And the winds of consciousness into which we are cast.

Call it what you will: fate, destiny, kismet, fortune, providence, karma,

In the grand matrix of it all, you are but a quantum twinkle.

232

You are the eternal nowness prior to all creation.

That which was never born, that which will never perish,

That which is formless, indivisible, absolute, timelessly sentient,

The eternal life, the awareness prior to all beginnings, after all endings.

233

Consciousness plays the genius, the ignorance, the madness, the absurdity,

The love, the hatred, and all the other passionate vanities.

And all the while, awareness, witness.

* * * *

Consciousness is quicksand.

Awareness, bedrock.

234

The timeless immediacy of the ever-present nowness

Has never even once been fathomed by the vagaries of imagination.

Even a still mind completely attentive to the awareness

Cannot more than be of the flame eternal.

235

Chew your liquids, drink your solids.

It is the replenishment and care of the body and mind

That allows the witness to this vast mystery

To tarry within and without.

* * * *

Work, play, experience everything that calls,

Until nothing remains but ever-present awareness,

Indivisible, intangible, indestructible, sovereign, absolute.

237

Who, what, where, when, why, how am I?

Who, what, where, when, why, how are you?

Who, what, where, when, why, how is anyone?

Same source, same awareness, all dreams,

All dreaming themselves autonomous,

All dreaming themselves distinct,

All dreaming themselves real.

* * * *

To carry history in your head, or not to carry history in your head,

Is the conscious choice between the stagnation of memory,

Or the eternal life of moment-to-moment awareness.

238

Be of such mind, be of such vision, be of such clarity, be of such soul,

That the empty awareness of the grand zero-sum is all that remains.

239

Heaven is just another word for the oblivion of immaculate awareness.

And hell, well, just look around and endure the wander as best ye may.

* * * *

It is all nothingness layered with one manifest veneer or another.

The ether of awareness toying with the elements,

Intelligent design, if you will.

241

As impossible, as irrational, as ridiculous as it sounds,

Everything is inside and outside each other.

The quantum matrix is like that.

244

Aligning with any given dogma

Is more a gymnastic feat than real spiritual inquiry.

A curiously ironic thing, especially since the ever-present awareness of truth

Requires absolutely no effort, no strife, no belief, whatsoever.

It is as present a present as any present can be.

245

Awareness, oblivious to the play of good and evil,

Allows every dream of consciousness

To have its day in the sun.

* * * *

Where would, where could awareness be,

Without a body-mind in which to imagine self?

246

You are the awareness before time.

That which is godness by whatever sound

You may choose – or choose not – to ascribe it.

247

All histories are really nothing more than selected snapshots of perception

Permeated by the unknowable awareness of the seamless indivisibility.

249

Awareness is only in it for the ride.

For those who see reality

For what it truly is,

There is neither gain nor loss

In all the knowledge, all the piles of gold,

Or all of the myriad experiences any given life offers.

250

Your face has never been the same, so why pretend it is?

Why be attached to its ever-changing nature?

Go behind the façade to discover

The immortality of your true beingness,

The awareness common to all great and small.

251

No words can describe or contain you.

All you are is awareness now,

The universe is merely

A temporal creation

Of the senses and mind.

* * * *

No matter how deeply you delve,

It ever remains an inexplicable mystery.

All conclusions are no more than idle speculation.

It is meaningless to do more than give the passing moment

Your complete and unvarnished attention.

252

Around and within awareness, a food body is created,

And for a brief duration it witnesses Self

Through a tentative lens

Of whatever consciousness

The nature-nurture dream allows.

254

All dreams, all memories, all ideas, eventually evaporate

Into what they have been all along, the one and only real you,

The timeless awareness in which all things come and go,

Appear and disappear like clouds in the drift of time.

256

The mind as identity is waves crashing.

The mind as awareness is eternity.

Serenity is not born of thought.

259

The same awareness, the same consciousness, permeates every imaginable difference:

Different bodies, different languages, different times, different spaces,

In order to play out a very-much-the-same mystery.

All the universe is a stage,

And all life forms merely players.

* * * *

Eternal life is right now, wherever you are.

The only real question is, do you exist as mere mortal,

Or as an eye of god, a timeless witness

To the unfolding mystery.

* * * *

We are all dancing in every way imaginable

In the same quantum hologram,

The infinite matrix

Of the inexplicable source.

260

From the seed-lines of your parents,

And all your ancestors since life’s beginning,

You have funneled into awareness.

* * * *

It is ever the same nothingness,

The same mystery, the same unknown,

The same quantum-hologram-matrix-ether,

Into which the given sensors extend their probes,

And generate universes of every variety and dimension.

* * * *

You can see, hear, taste, smell, and touch

Everything having to do with the play of consciousness,

But it is awareness – unknowable, indiscernible, indivisible, enigmatic,

Mysterious, impenetrable, inexplicable, inscrutable, incomprehensible, indecipherable –

That is the source, the fountain, the ground, the essence, the witness, of all.

261

Pure awareness is tabula rasa,

The uncarved block, the empty slate,

Free of the stains of any concept or passion.

262

It is all just theater,

The actor within each of us,

The same witness, playing every form

In an boundless matrix beyond all comprehension.

How could it be anything less?

* * * *

Probably almost everyone has got a lot of other

Much, much more important things to do

Than mull over their inner mystery.

Who can disagree that it is much more intriguing

To stare deeply into the screen of a state-of-the-art smartphone,

Than it is the infinite void of an exceedingly lackluster, lint-infested bellybutton?

265

For the want of minds that can discern the mystery within all things,

For the want of ears that can hear the soundless, eyes that can see the unseen,

Another vision of the grand reality gradually fades in the dream of time.

It is not the choir that needs to discern that which is real and true.

* * * *

Being the timeless presence is very simple, really.

Just be the sovereign, unstained, indivisible, untrammeled,

Flawless, immaculate, absolute, eternal awareness.

267

How can anyone own the mystery when everything is the mystery?

270

It is by the light of awareness within that all is seen.

273

The sovereignty of one’s aloneness is the sun of awareness within.

* * * *

Not too many problems can contend with a good, full breath of awareness.

275

By what form can awareness be bound?

* * * *

Yet another enticing distraction drawing you back into the illusory matrix.

276

To what need awareness cling?

277

How forever it is for awareness to try to reach the inside of any skull.

279

Awareness has no name, no attributes, and is aligned with no mindset.

280

The mystery heeds no bounds.

283

Awareness, the final frontier, the grand voyeur of all eternity.

284

In the ever-changing sensory theater, awareness is the only constant.

* * * *

The witness of awareness neither heeds nor stops for any judgment or conclusion.

286

You have never even once been what you think.

The imaginary self is no more than a fiction of consciousness.

Truly, you are simply awareness, as is everything else.

The singularity is nothing more, nothing less.

* * * *

Different jewelry, same gold.

Different stars, same universe.

Different waves, same ocean.

Different eyes, same mystery.

* * * *

All movement of thought is the play of consciousness

Mesmerized by the myriad creations born of its temporal nature.

Unbound awareness is the unutterable stillness of the ephemeral moment.

287

Existence is a mystery.

It is not a Christian mystery,

A Buddhist mystery, a Hindu mystery,

An Islamic mystery, or anyone else’s mystery.

It is equally the same mystery for all.

Any given belief system

Is merely vanity

Promoting differences

Which have never mattered.

288

Everything is created of the same source, the same awareness, even that which is deified,

Were such a supreme being to be contrived by the matrix of the quantum unknown.

So, of course god exists, and it is within and without all things small to great.

Each and every one, including you, sovereign witness to the mystery.

292

Awareness is that prior to all dimensions.

293

The greatest serenity is abiding in the solitude of awareness.

* * * *

Rediscover the infant’s untainted awareness, and know eternity.

294

The heart of awareness is most clearly viewed with full, deep, regular breathing.

295

The mystery explores its rainbow’s each and every flavor.

* * * *

Within all the movement, awareness, an indefinable stillness.

298

The mystery has no expectation of you, nor should you of it.

* * * *

How everything just seems to appear and disappear is always such a mystery.

299

A most challenging thing not to grow more inflexible,

More harsh, more cynical, as the world daily takes its toll.

To be as a child, innocent, free, untainted, uncarved, unbroken,

Is a momentary awareness only timeless minds re-attain.

301

From nothingness burst quantum, which fashioned itself into the many elements,

That created a vast universe, sprinkled with countless stars, around which many worlds twirled,

Upon which, on at least one whirling sphere, volcanoes spewed and oceans roared,

And life upwelled into existence, and cleaved into biological streams,

One of which gradually, irrevocably, evolved into you,

Mortal witness to the timeless mystery,

To which there is neither question nor answer.

* * * *

You are the temporal outcome of a lineage of seeds streaming from life’s origin.

You are the mystery, the enigma of DNA, and its futile attempt at immortality.

303

How can it be anything more than streaming sensation?

The eyes, the ears, the nose, the tongue, the skin,

Are nothing more than nerve endings channeling into the brain,

Which every moment imagines a conditioned translation of what is called a universe.

A solitary dream of consciousness, awareness playing its Self real,

Nothing more, nothing less, nothing but.

304

The entire religious/spiritual game is just that, a game,

Artificial diversions fabricated by others

For monkey-minded purpose.

There is only you,

And no other is required

To fully apprehend and appreciate

The mystery of every moment’s eternal passing.

307

Only in the very-much-now momentary presence

The stillness of absolute awareness does vanity end.

308

We all discern it a mystery,

And then quibble and feud and battle,

Over the endless speculations all minds contrive.

* * * *

Everything a hook holding up the veil.

* * * *

Without you to witness to it,

There would be no light by which to see,

There would be no matrix of mystery to be explored,

There would be no truth to again and again and again be discerned.

311

The unknown is faceless.

Put away all the photographs.

Forget the reflection in the mirror.

Shelve all the knowledge of this and that.

You are the immeasurable, you are the mystery.

As pure, as simple, as free, as you allow your Self to be.

312

The same eternal awareness has been housed in every life form since life was formed.

In all creatures small to great, the same omnipresence, omniscience, omnipotence.

* * * *

The awareness, the witness you ever are,

Is the indivisible, immeasurable source:

Omnipresent, omniscient, omnipotent.

It is you, you are it, there is no other.

313

It is consciousness that moves,

Not you, the stillness of awareness,

The unstained, infinite witness.

* * * *

Only through the ever-streaming, ever-changing input of the senses

Does it seem that you are seeing, hearing, tasting, smelling and feeling

This indivisible quantum-matrix universe, a mirage of an inexplicable origin.

314

Who can say who or what or when or where or why or how,

The seeds of doubt are planted, take root, get watered, and grow to fruition.

It is, as all things ever are, the same indelible mystery from all beginnings to all endings.

* * * *

To return to the upwelling, to Para Brahman, may or may not be your calling.

There is no predicting who will comprehend the source of awareness.

Nor is it really all that important, for the mystery is in all things,

No matter how many are, or are not, chosen to awaken.

315

Even if you were up on some great stage

With eight billion-plus people wildly cheering,

In the vast singularity of all things matrix,

You would still be very much alone.

316

You are not the body or the mind; you are not the left hand or the right.

You are not the eyes, the ears, the nose, the tongue, nor the layers of nerve-ridden flesh.

You are not the heart or any other organ, nor are you the tip of the biggest toe.

You are naught but awareness, as ethereally ephemeral as any cloud.

* * * *

It does not have to make any sense, you know.

The mystery of it all is really far too inexplicable

To ever wrap even the most immortal head around.

317

You will suffer until you let go of your universe,

And the incessant movement of the mind that sustains it.

Until you give way to the stillness of the awareness,

The source from which all dreaming streams.

318

Why be bound by any historical notion?

Why be crimped by any mythology or tradition?

Why not be entirely free in the sovereignty of awareness?

It is only fear that bids you acquiesce to any artificial limitation.

319

Now, now, now …

Eternity is right now, godness is right now,

Prior to all attributes, prior to all assumptions, prior to all identification,

Prior to all movement of consciousness.

You are it, it is you.

What is so difficult to fathom

About the stillness of the infinite awareness,

Which is as simple as simple can be.

* * * *

It is not through thought that you, the witness, exists.

The you, you really are, is not this time-bound, fabricated character.

What you really are is the awareness, the presence,

The nowness of the eternal life.

320

Forget that you were ever born.

Die to all past and future.

The streaming now

Is the awareness you are.

Everything and nothing all the while.

* * * *

It is the body that is growing older,

Not the ageless, indivisible, immeasurable you,

The awareness that was never born.

322

Few are inflicted with the great doubt

That eventually conveys them all the way back

To that timeless awareness prior to all consciousness.

So many temptations, so many distractions, so many delusions,

On the long and winding ever here now road home.

* * * *

Are you prepared to leave everything behind?

To be totally, absolutely free of all manifest claims?

Are you prepared to be you, completely alone, dreamless,

Naught but awareness, formless, for all eternity?

Or will you do this to yourself yet again?

* * * *

Let go all the struggle.

Be completely, unequivocally effortless.

Give yourself over to the beingness, the nowness, the stillness,

Of the absolute awareness prior to consciousness.

It is your true nature; it is the eternal life.

323

When you are merely awareness, you are free.

When you are a mind attached to a body, you are bound.

So guileless as to be yet another of the greatest stories never told.

* * * *

What ego could exist without attachment to the body-mind,

And all the perceptions that have been but imagined

In the streaming dream of absolute awareness.

324

You may be the indelible, indivisible, unborn-undying mystery,

But you are still cousin to a hodgepodge of monkeys,

Chimpanzees, gorillas, and sundry primates.

In other words, you are but a beast,

An evolutionary invention

Of puddle magic,

And muddied thinking.

* * * *

We all know different things,

We all perceive different universes,

We are all stained by different experiences,

Yet we are all born of the same mystery all the while.

325

If not in every breath time offers,

Then at least in the last moments before death,

Surrender to the vast eternal awareness prior to consciousness,

And rest fulfilled, content in that immortal knowingness,

When the Reaper comes to gather the vehicle

To which your vanity is so attached.

326

Humankind is perhaps the most pathological cancer

Ever devised by this dreamy panorama of a matrix.

327

It is not a matter of believing you are that which is god, but in being that which is god.

It is in the immediate perception, the immediate awareness, the nowness,

Not some entity ensnared by the movement of mere thought.

328

Consciousness is a vibrating lens

With countless filters crafted of every imaginable limitation.

Awareness is of the infinite source, witness within all things great and small, bound to nothing.

* * * *

Eternal salvation is not about the body or mind being saved.

It is the purging of fabricated identity, the ceaseless inventions of the mind,

And timelessly being what you truly are, that which is god.

You are the Truth, the Life and the Way.

Be That I Am,

The Self of all selves.

* * * *

How can you not be that which many call god by countless names,

When without the light of awareness shining from within,

Your cosmos would not for even a moment exist.

332

The sensory mind-body is the theater; awareness, the audience.

333

Think you cannot at all get along without someone or something?

Oh, you will, my fine friend, rest assured you will, indeed,

Whether voluntarily, or from your cold, lifeless hands,

Absolutely everyone and everything will cease to exist as you do

When this magical mystery tour of a dream reaches its most certain conclusion.

Consciousness is but a temporal state requiring a vessel of some sort in which to play out.

The promises of everlasting life, of access to one deity or another, will always prove but empty and vain.

And of what is called rebirth, it is not some individual persona, but the essence that all things are,

And that quantum “you-ness” born anew will blow in the nature-nurture winds of its time,

Experiencing many things, always with very much the same awareness within all.

334

Eternity is the seamless now

To which momentary awareness is witness.

Die to the dream of time and totality becomes absolutely clear.

335

The singular mystery somehow created you,

And you in turn witness your version of a manifest dream.

You are it and it is you, as indivisible, as inseparable as it must ever be.

* * * *

There are the many whose existence is lived out of obligation to the arbitrary memes born of time,

And the sporadic few whose spirits are drawn to the exploration of its mystery.

Not all can be scientists, else there would be no laboratory

In which wisdom might brew.

* * * *

This world is but a miniscule grain of sand

In an infinite ocean of mystery.

Who knows if or when

You will ever appear again,

But, tell me, Pilgrim, have you ever seen

Any seed being given a second chance, much less a third?

336

It is likely inevitable in this vast mystery of a cosmos

That any given garden world will allow life forms to evolve

Which will sooner or later potentially threaten their very existence

Creation is destruction, destruction is creation, extinction is nothing new.

* * * *

Everything simultaneously streaming, unfolding one moment to the next,

In this immeasurable quantum matrix of a holograph universe.

Only your little slice of imagination is about you.

* * * *

Sometimes small-minded, sometimes large.

That is the unfathomable nature of consciousness,

And the awareness from which, and into which, it blossoms.

337

Identity is merely awareness temporarily usurped.

338

Created of the infinite unknown, a mystery beyond all reckoning,

You encapsulate it with your finite vanity,

And call it God.

339

A perplexing, inexplicable, unfathomable mystery,

Of which you are an inscrutable exponent,

Of which you possess nothing

In so many shapes, sizes, colors, and tastes.

Reflections of light, and the unknown in which all are cast.

* * * *

Any given mind is nothing more than an arbitrary bubble of consciousness.

The only constant is the awareness from which all dreams indivisibly spring.

340

The ancients called the elements

Earth, air, water, fire, ether.

Scientists in these times

Call it quantum mechanics.

Intuit it, name it, label it, describe it,

Measure it, organize it, in whatever way you will,

It is, has ever been, will ever be, must ever be, the same mystery.

343

So much ambition, so much vanity, so much absurdity,

To be what you already are, have ever been, will ever be,

In this right here, right now, indivisible quantum mystery.

344

To judge others is to be the critic of a theater
You have in sublime ignorance created.
Close your eyes and other senses,
And you will see it all nothing,
Awareness dancing in stillness,
An eternal lightshow, nothing more.

* * * *

Consciousness is the flower,
Awareness, the root,
And the indivisible totality,
The ground in which all dreams
Blossom, flourish, diminish, dissolve.

* * * *

Is the fish separate from the water?
The worm from the ground?
The bird from the air?
The sun from the flame?
‘Tis a matrix of quantum design,
Pure, simple, nothing more, nothing less.

345

You came into this mystery with nothing,
You will leave it with nothing,
And there has really been nothing more
Than imaginary notions in every moment between.

* * * *

If it is your calling to discern that which is god,
That which is within all small to great,
You must let go of everything.
Yes, everything.
The you
Born of thought
Must become so tranquil,
That you are the knowing awareness
That is boundless beyond all comprehension.

347

Peering out from the stillness of awareness,

Through every visage from the infinitesimal to the infinite,

Unknowably mysterious, inexplicable, enigmatic, inscrutable, unfathomable,

The timeless, indivisible, immeasurable, quantum singularity,

The one and only you.

* * * *

The unbounded awareness is, without any movement of me, myself, or I.

It cannot be altered, claimed, manipulated, possessed, or usurped.

It is the untapped spring, the uncarved block, the tabula rasa.

It is the primal source of all, partial or beholden to none.

It is prior to all manifestation, equally present in all,

And ever carries on after the dissolution of all.

* * * *

How can there ever be a collective vision in the human epoch,

When every human being, every life form, is a universe unto its Self?

All are spun of the same awareness, the same quantum, the same singularity,

But consciousness, imagination, knows naught but bounds at every turn.

348

Your world, your universe, your self-metaphors, are all imagined.

Still the mind, close the eyes, the ears, all the other senses,

And the nothingness of awareness becomes apparent.

* * * *

Absolute awareness is the underlying operating system
Upon which all consciousness is artlessly programmed.

* * * *

The quest for truth is more than an assertion of this or that.

True inquiry delves into the source, into the awareness,

Into the infinity prior to all concepts born of mind.

349

Every life form that is born of this mystery must inevitably die,

But the essence of which all creation is formed

Is never born and never dies.

* * * *

Nothing new under the sun, everything new under the sun.

So predictably unpredictable, so unpredictably predictable,

Every unfolding, eternally streaming, matrix of a moment.

350

Those few who manage to stream along in the pure awareness

Prior to time, prior to space, prior to consciousness,

Are unburdened by any history, whatsoever.

* * * *

Who knows what incredible mysteries may reside

On other worlds, in other dimensions of this vast quantum matrix?

You must rely on your own frame of reference to hypothesize all possibilities possible,

Yet how can any ever be anything but you, whatever the guise?

352

The indivisibility of the quantum chaos is order unto its Self.

What stability can there be in the theater of consciousness,

But what awareness through imagination conceives?

* * * *

The ultimate you is untouched by any and all claims.

A Self-contained, quantum matrix of the highest order.

354

Call me That I Am, call me Brahman, call me Tao, call me God, call me Self, call me what you will.

I am the unnamable awareness that is prior to all dreams of consciousness.

Absolute, indivisible, complete, supreme, without peer.

And you and everything else are as well.

There is nothing that is not this same oneness

In all the annals of time to the formless infinity beyond.

* * * *

All forms are but variations of quantum vibration,

The underlying physics of the elements within all things,

As witnessed by the ever-present, ever-shining light of awareness.

355

All creatures small to great are born of the same indivisible mystery.

All are fated never to see more than reflections of their own faces.

357

All translation must be observed with a dubious, discerning eye,

Especially the interpreter, the sorter, the filter, in your own inured mind.

Everything you perceive translates through the biases of your frame of reference:

Entirely subjective, entirely slanted, entirely unique, entirely idiosyncratic, entirely alone.

Step back from your conditioning, and realize from the dispassionate view of the quantum matrix,

That your entire existence from womb to grave is all nothing more than the huff and puff of imagination.

358

Dogma is the worldly vision

Of those who, for whatever reason,

Lack the eyes to see and the ears to hear

The infinite mystery in which each and every one

Equally participates in so many ways.

359

How can anyone look at all these fellow creatures small to great,

And not, without doubt, discern the obvious fact that within each and every one

Is the same indelible source, the same awareness, the same intelligence?

That all are the same omnipresent, omniscient witness as you.

362

Kill off little self however you will.

The awareness is indifferent

To all manner of fates.

364

Where is this vain, noble, notorious “I” we so readily assume real?

Is it the ever-changing body, the ever-changing identity?

Is it the rambling compendium of perceptions?

Can it even be the timeless awareness

Common to all things living?

How can there truly be

“Me, myself, and I”

In that infinity which is prior

To all forms fashioned of light and sound?

That which is ageless, formless, indivisible, sovereign, absolute.

That which has never even once suffered mortal birth,

Much less the pangs of imagined death.

365

The differences there are be between so-called angels and demons

Are in the arbitrary choices made by consciousness.

The same awareness is witness to all.

* * * *

To be born again into the absoluteness of eternal awareness,

Is the true purpose and meaning, the true reckoning,

The true potential of every breath, every step.

366

The universe created of senses and mind

Is both the teacher and the greatest distraction.

A manifest dream in which the stillness of awareness

Is the locksmith to the momentary nature of an eternal life.

369

The filament of awareness

Is the eternal me, my Self, and I.

Anything less is delusion.

370

The only constant in this ever-changing cosmos is awareness.

The elemental theater in which consciousness runs amok,

Is a veil in which suffering is an inevitable outcome.

372

A vastness filled with whirls of consciousness,

All within the same immortal, timeless awareness,

The quantum matrix of that which is prior to all naming,

That source that is the one witness within all great and small.

373

It is a mystery.

It is the mystery of all mysteries.

It is not a Christian mystery, it is not a Jewish mystery.

It is not a Muslim mystery, it is not a Hindu mystery, it is not Taoist a mystery.

It is a mystery that does not belong to, or favor, any -ist, or any -ism.

It is not subject to any idolatry, it is not subject to any dogma.

It is a mystery free and clear from any and all claims

By any individual or group across all eternity.

* * * *

To wander in awareness,

Without accumulating this or that,

Free from ownership of any thought or thing.

Holding onto nothing, how difficult can that be, really?

374

Religion that is not religion, belief that is not belief,

In which momentary awareness is the only faith required,

Staged ever-streaming in a sensory theater of a timeless dream.

No one can help you realize your ultimate, indelible reality.

You must discover it completely, totally, forever alone.

375

Awareness is not,

Has never been, will never be,

Confined by any limits set by consciousness.

378

The awareness is not the manifest dreamscape.

It is the unfolding creation from which all things ascend.

It is for each to discern, to perceive, within their individual dream;

That they are the same awareness, the same source, as any other is in theirs.

379

It is an immeasurable, indivisible, quantum matrix,

Each and every life form witness to it

In its own unique way.

380

When the given existence gives way to inevitable departure of the container,

The vast cosmos that mind and senses have into dreamtime spun,

Will dissolve back into the indivisible quantum mystery,

The given mind-body is a one-time-only show,

Never really “yours” from the get-go.

This is the only imaginary you

That is, has ever been, will ever be.

381

That you exist is not mystery enough?

That you exist is not eternal enough?

That you exist is not time enough?

That you exist is not gold enough?

That you exist is not real enough?

That you exist is not true enough?

That you exist is not holy enough?

That you exist is not sacred enough?

That you exist is not magical enough?

That you exist is not spiritual enough?

That you exist is not purgatory enough?

That you exist is not heaven or hell enough?

383

Free of past, of future, of desire, of fear.

Free of birth, existence, identity, hope, dread, death.

Free of the sensory theater, of the world, of the universe, of any god.

Free of anything and everything, free even of nothing.

Simply awareness, eternally alone.

385

Any given life is but a fleeting sense of space and time

In which the ever-present ether of awareness

Equally permeates every moment.

389

The intriguing thing about the indivisibility of nothingness

Is how it permeates every smidgen of this touchy-feely matrix.

A majestic banquet that leaves consciousness ever hungry for more.

390

The ecology of the passionate mind

Is little more than a muddled, discordant jumble.

The real you, prior to consciousness, is spacious awareness,

From the deepest within to the farthest without.

392

It is only the mind and body that imagines experiencing anything.
You, the eternal observer, the awareness, remain ever indifferent.

* * * *

Each must ascertain his/her own eternal salvation
In the nothingness of the ever-present awareness.

393

Why narrow your Self to this or that assumption,

When you are in every way truly nothing

But the clear space of awareness.

* * * *

You need not believe anything.
The awareness you are, does not require
Any movement of consciousness
For you to witness the play
Created by the senses.

* * * *

There is neither time nor space

But through the play of the senses

As witnessed by the awareness you are.

394

Nature is the mystery’s expression,

And humankind but one of its myriad creations.

Separate only in consciousness, dualistic only in the mind,

In no way any less indivisible than all creation can be from its creator.

395

We all share the same awareness,

The same dream of time and space,

Yet each and every one is utterly unique.

All frames of reference are relative

Until what is seen is no more.

All judgment is absurd.

396

You are imagined within me, and I within you.

Each of us fathoming our little dreamtime selves real,

Yet nothing more than ephemeral junctures of consciousness,

Nothing more than illusory drops in this indivisible quantum mystery.

398

Discern the simplicity prior to consciousness,

The clarity born of pure awareness,

That which is witness

To all that is known and unknown.

* * * *

You are not the body

Moving through time and space.

You are the eternal awareness witnessing

A temporal, three-dimensional weaving of the senses.

399

Awareness is prior to the conscious dream of time and space
Fabricated in the quantum-neuron matrix of any given mind.

400

What nonsense this need to believe in anyone or anything,

Much less have anyone or anything believe in you.

Here you are: unknown, indefinable, timeless.

Nothing to believe in, nothing to prove,

Once the beingness of awareness

Has reclaimed its primacy.

401

Identity is something of a trespasser, a squatter, upon the indivisible indelibility of awareness.

402

If this amazing, inexplicable mystery is happening,

Then is not just about anything a possibility

Out there in the universal immensity?

And all of it, and beyond, you.

404

Make awareness the default setting, and Eden reappears,

Although covered with asphalt, cement, fences,

And other patterns of born of mind.

* * * *

The literal-minded will never comprehend truth,

No matter how adroitly it is articulated.

It requires a figurative awareness

To ascertain the ultimate.

* * * *

There is no love, there is no hate.

There is no light, there is no sound,

There is only the singularity of awareness,

From which all else is imagined.

407

Awareness is awareness,

Neither light nor dark, right nor wrong, strong nor weak, vibrant nor passive,

Kind nor cruel, sweet nor bitter, great nor small, good nor evil.

Absolutely indifferent in every way imaginable.

408

The newborn is pure awareness.

In the infant and child,

The seeds of consciousness

Begin gradually sprouting in the mind

In whatever way the winds of time may blow.

But it is in the awareness all truly are,

Have always been, will ever be,

It is from the source of all,

That eternal life ever springs.

411

The virtual reality is a programmed matrix born of an indivisible, quantum dynamic,

An intelligent design well beyond the dogmatic reckonings of any monkey-mind.

* * * *

When you discern what is true and disappear into the timeless awareness,

The universe within and without converts to its untainted singular reality.

* * * *

Humility and modesty are just stilling the self-absorbed inner chatter,

Immersing into the imperturbable, timeless tranquility of awareness.

* * * *

God is prattled about in consciousness, merged into in awareness.

Always a case of earnest conviction versus discerning equanimity.

412

In all our myriad forms, all our myriad minds,

We are all the same witness, the same consciousness,

Playing out different portions of same mystery.

* * * *

If there is any ultimate purpose or meaning to this mystery of existence,
Surely it is realization of the singularity within and without all creation.

413

Freedom is in the clarity of awareness,

Not the quantum theater of sensation.

414

All our imaginary universes are built upon frames of reference.

Each of us can only see, hear, touch, taste, and smell

What minds have been conditioned to know.

The mystery equally contains all.

* * * *

A different time, a different existence.

A different appearance, a different dream.

A different world, a different universe.

All the differences; same mystery.

416

The truth of awareness requires nothing.

No laws, no principles, no dogma, no creed, no hierarchies,

Fabricated by the mind-made limitations

Of self-serving middlemen.

417

Dwell in that stillness, that awareness, that timelessness,

From which the dream of consciousness rises and falls.

Imagination, as present as it seems, is not eternal life.

* * * *

All the attachments,

All the things,

All the memories,

All the relationships,

All the this’s, all the that’s.

What weights chaining the spirit.

Distractions from the ever-present awareness

In which eternal life abides.

* * * *

The ever-changing mortal frame

Is a mobile unit in which energy transmutes.

The mind is a neuron matrix in which imagination frolics.

419

Awareness is the one and only real you prior to consciousness.

Consciousness is nothing more than imagination

In the playground of the mind.

* * * *

Every streaming moment the quantum matrix

Vibrates itself indivisibly, immortally anew

Within and without the one and only you.

* * * *

You can be as small-minded as everyone else

When you forget you are awareness, not the body.

Samsara is an enduring 24/7/365-all-your-life antagonist.

420

To believe awareness

Is attached to any concept or form

Is but vain arrogance born of human limitation.

421

I have given you conscious reality.

Through this mind, you exist.

Had we never met, or had I never heard of you,

You would not be, but through the wide-ranging intuition of all things possible.

Outside this awareness, this consciousness,

You do not exist.

You have given me conscious reality.

Through your mind, I exist.

Had we never met, or had you never heard of me,

I would not be, but through the wide-ranging intuition of all things possible.

Outside your awareness, your consciousness,

I do not exist.

What is the world but a brief ephemeral dream for all?

426

Suspend knowing, forget everything.

Be the awareness, absolutely free.

* * * *

From awareness springs life eternal.

427

The awareness is equally within every particle of creation.

Omniscient, omnipresent, omnipotent.

You are it, it is you.

* * * *

All have equal access to the source of this mystery.

Rest assured it is quite indifferent to all creation.

* * * *

It is a god-eat-god cosmos.

Everything in one pattern or another,

Because that is how the hologram matrix works

For as far, for as wide, for as deep, for as long,

As the quantum sandbox of eternity plays out.

* * * *

Discerning truth is an experiential actuality.

It has nothing to do with the assertions of blind faith.

It is simply being attuned to the awareness in the right here now.

429

All the sensations, all the passions,

All the concoctions of mind and body,

None are the essential, real you,

The sovereign, immaculate,

Absolute witness,

The heart of awareness,

The oneness prior to all dreams.

432

How long, how short,

How broad, how deep,

How narrow, how steep,

How, how, how,

How it all is,

Is, indeed, a mystery.

* * * *

There is not a personal god,

So much as there is a personal you,

That is a mystery called god by many names.

* * * *

That which never sleeps

Is within and without all great and small,

A boundless abyss of tranquility, a mystery beyond compare.

* * * *

The universe is an eggshell, the mind a beak.

Eternal salvation is the freedom of any given moment.

It is the infinite timelessness of awareness that nowness ever offers.

434

True science is the most enlightening way

Of examining this vast mystery,

Call it what you will.

* * * *

Consciousness is a means

To playing out the dream of time.

You are the awareness, not consciousness.

435

All these sounds are but interchangeable concepts describing the same unfathomable reality:

God, Brahman, Buddha, Jesus, Allah, Soul, matrix, unicity, oneness, stillness,

Indivisible, sovereign, absolute, awareness, consciousness, bliss,

Serenity, divinity, nothingness, totality, ether, dream,

Universe, quantum … mystery …

* * * *

What ever gave you any sign, any indication, any hint, any suggestion,

That the quantum mystery has ever cared about the personal you,

Except the vanity of the meme into which you were launched.

436

Consciousness can never keep up with the awareness

That creates and destroys time each and every moment.

All it can do is relinquish all control to the eternal witness.

439

What is wealth, what is not wealth?

Has a nugget of gold really any more value

Than the ocean-born mystery of a tiny grain of sand?

441

It is the same awareness in all,

Dreaming eternally in one simultaneous here now,

Witness to all creation in every way in one synchronized indivisible instant.

I, Quantum

* * * *

So many facets, so many reflections,

What is a quantum mind, a god mind to do,

But be as detached as the awareness ever allows.

443

You are awareness, consciousness the spark.

* * * *

It may matter far less what you are doing, than the awareness you are as you are doing it.

444

For those who ponder the mystery in royal magnitude

In the visions of that they deem to be God:

Awareness, King and Kingdom.

446

It was knowledge that blinded the vision of Eden.

It is awareness that will make it apparent again.

447

Awareness is witness peering out, and consciousness, quantum larking about.

449

Just because it is a beyond-the-pale mystery

Does not mean it was fabricated by a deity

Who in some minds resembles Santa Claus.

451

At the heart of awareness,

All the naming means diddly-squat.

What is, is, no matter the sound it is granted.

452

The mind is the immeasurable playground of quantum imagination.

All history, all science, all art, all vocation, all trivia, all anything,

Is but a perpetual dance in a matrix too vast to fathom any edge.

453

The shift from consciousness to awareness

Is like a submarine moving from the churning surface

To the stillness of the tranquil depths below.

* * * *

From the mystery, quantum formed.

With its isness, quantum spun manifestation.

Without this quantum patterning, no thing would be,

Yet its untouchable original nature will forever be unknown.

454

The awareness in one is the awareness in all.

* * * *

It is a god-eat-god world, a god-eat-god universe, a god-eat-god mystery.

455

Still the mind, breathe in, breath out, in awareness, You are.

The seeker is that which is sought, it is that simple, that clear.

456

True meditation is not at all forced,

And no tradition, no scripture, no posture, no symbol,

No dogma, no mantra, no status, no garb, no diet, no gender, no vernacular,

No attribute contrived by the monkey-mind is in any way required to abet its momentary process.

Pure awareness is the source, the baseline, the witness, of all quantum creation.

* * * *

Perception is but a very infinitesimal, very biased sampling

Of the quantum vibrating within all patternings,

Whose mystery is ever-present.

457

Holodeck … Holoworld … Holoverse … ever an infinite matrix of unknowable origin.

* * * *

Awareness is the quiet hum of the boundless awakeness.

458

How can anyone ever even begin to settle

For any infinitesimal egocentric-ethnocentric-geocentric-solarcentric vision

Of this beyond-all-pales enigma of a mystery?

459

One moment so quickly gone, another hour an hour too long.

Every one passing exactly the same no matter the weather of any given mind.

Every one witnessed by the same omnipresent, indelible awareness

That permeates equally all things from great to small.

* * * *

Many if not all things end up being very different from what they started,

And yet the same all the while is the irony and paradox

Of this quantum matrix of a theater.

460

None can hold onto the good any longer, nor get through the bad any more quickly.

All must be enjoyed or endured as consciousness sanctions.

And the awareness ever untouched.

461

Quantum light.

Quantum sound.

Quantum vibration.

Quantum consciousness.

Quantum awareness.

Quantum mystery.

Quantum home.

I, Quantum.

* * * *

Do you cling mindlessly to your passions?

Your desires, you fears, your angers, your likes and dislikes?

Let them go in the awareness of mind, be free in the day-to-day as time allows.

463

Consciousness is movement, awareness just is.

464

The mystery of this vast creation is a beyond-the-pale enigma.

The Greatest Story is at best to be surmised, never told.

All notions are but speculations of imagination.

Nothing more, nothing less, nothings but.

* * * *

The quantum matrix programming is indivisible,

Indelible, indifferent, inexorable, indissoluble, indefatigable;

Intelligible only through the incisive code-breaking

Of mathematics, art, music, linguistics,

And other paradigms intuited by imagination.

* * * *

The newborn is but simple awareness.

The identity that will gradually in imagination bloom,

Will be the mind-body’s nature-nurture adaptation to the sensory play.

The means to survive, to endure physically and psychologically,

The dreamtime into which it has been by chance cast.

465

The manifest space-time continuum is not linear.

It is a boundless, indivisible, multidimensional, quantum matrix,

Eternally singular, inexplicable, but for imagination’s dynamic, time-bound potential.

467

That prior to consciousness is awareness.

Awareness is timeless, consciousness, time.

Awareness is still, consciousness, movement.

Awareness is reality, consciousness, imagination.

Nothing less, nothing more, nothing but.

* * * *

All you are, all anyone or anything else is,

Is the timeless awareness playing out a pattern,

A blueprint, a design, an archetype, a genetic construct.

Nothing more, nothing less, nothing but.

* * * *

Is this whole dream, is all of eternity,

Just an interminable recording going on and on?

The Unknowable merely playing it all out to pass the time.

A cavernous awareness simultaneously inhaling,

Through every eye, every single moment.

469

Why would anyone have difficulty seeing this mystery as a spontaneous creation?

Why would anyone assert any make-believe creed when none are essential?

Why would anyone fathom a god limited by any vain confabulation?

Why would anyone resist discerning they are whatever it is?

Why would anyone ever feel the need to be anything

But very much present, very much right here, right now.

* * * *

What greater serenity can there be

Than to be alone with one’s thoughts

Steeped in the timelessness of awareness.

* * * *

Envision a mystery so immensely now

As to include you in its field of awareness,

You as one of its incalculable eternal witnesses,

Indivisibly one in every way, every shape, every form.

469

Envision a mystery so hugely now

As to include you in its field of awareness,

You as one of its incalculable eternal witnesses,

Indivisibly one in every way, every shape, every form.

* * * *

Envision a mystery so immensely now

As to include you in its field of awareness,

You as one of its incalculable eternal witnesses,

Indivisibly one in every way, every shape, every form.

470

Are you the identity to which you so resolutely cling,

Or the ephemeral awareness that perceives it all,

Prior to consciousness, prior to imagination?

471

Sometimes you give your attention to consciousness.

Sometimes you give your attention to awareness.

And in the end, it does not really matter at all.

There is no meter, there is no final judgment.

It is a three-dimensional quantum dream,

Nothing more, nothing less, nothing but.

Rest assured, it shall carry on without you.

472

Regarding destiny: Do you choose it? Or does it choose you?

Is there free will, chock-full of options, in this theater of space and time?

Or is the entire reverie nothing more than an indivisible, juggernauting recording,

An infinite matrix witnessed by the ultimate you in every way imaginable?

* * * *

Total freedom is the end of the countless assumptions

Born of the busy-busy, incessantly chattering mind,

The dancer dancing in the nowness of awareness.

* * * *

What irony that in the face of an incredibly astonishing mystery,

Humankind has lost itself in an absurd collusion of every possible vanity.

An entirely imaginary invention, this myopic notion of a separate, individual persona.

A duality sparked in consciousness when it began its evolutionary spin in the jungles of long ago.

473

When has the awareness ever seen more than an ever-changing reflection

Of any eyes through which it is has peered out upon its given universe?

* * * *

What is the universe, but very tiny, very brief sparkles,

In the grand infinity of the inexplicable eye of awareness.

475

The quantum clayness plays out any given genetic function

Without judgment, without qualification, without rhyme or reason.

Consciousness is witness to the innumerable differences,

Awareness, to the indivisibility of the all.

476

Why maintain any sense of fabricated self, any sense of imaginary identity, at all?

To pretend you are other than the awareness of the eternal moment,

That which is real, that which is true, that which is all,

Why would you want to do such a thing?

478

Believe it or not, like it or not,

Existence requires a certain discipline.

A knowing when to say yes, and when to mean no.

An opaque awareness that every streaming moment flowers anew,

To new decisions in the ever-changing coursing of time,

And that balance is required to meet it rightly.

480

The mystery, the unknowable you truly are, is utterly anonymous.

Identity is but the temporal fabrication of consciousness,

Of imagination, and its secular attachment to form.

The source, the awareness, is prior to time, prior to mind,

And the rare who fully discern it, abide in the unassuming solitude,

The sovereign, unconditional, indivisible, immortal aloneness of eternal life.

481

What is news but gossip with varying levels of exhortation to give it an aura of great importance.

Why we give attention to unfolding events across the world, or even across town,

Is the mystery of the monkey-mind and its evolutionary roots.

482

Within the unfathomable immensity of the quantum matrix, holograms abound:

Mirages, hallucinations, illusions, visions, delusions, fantasies, figments.

Where the unreal is made real, form after kaleidoscoping form.

Where every Kansas is an Oz, and every rope a snake,

Until with a sharpened blade of discernment,

The Gordian Knot is cut, and all again real become.

* * * *

Change up the sensory field:

Look with your ears, listen with your fingers,

Feel with your nose, smell with your tongue, taste with your eyes.

In a quantum mystery already well beyond the pale,

What is there that is not conceivable?

* * * *

Best take reasonable care of the body.

It is the portal through which the dream is experienced,

Through which you witness whatever slice of mystery you have been allotted.

Life offers too many challenges to not be able to face it squarely

With as much health and well-being as possible.

* * * *

Might be better to call ‘The Truth’ by some other sound

– The Way, The Mystery, The Indivisible, The Great Zambini, or some such vibration –

So as to avoid making the error of believing it is any kind of thing,

Rather than the ungraspable enigma that it is.

483

Every life form ever born manifests unique facets of awareness,

Of intelligence, intuition, practicality, acumen, judgment, knowledge, wisdom.

All of which enable it to survive, to abide, to perhaps even thrive,

In its wee little niche in the given patch of jungle.

* * * *

We are all shards of the same crest-jewel of consciousness,

Droplets of the same ocean, slices of the same pie,

Witnesses of the same quantum matrix.

Absolutely no need to struggle or suffer over it.

484

Consciousness is the movement within a bubble of manifest awareness,

Whose brief mortal dreamtime allows the grand quantum mystery

To witness its Self in whatever way the genetic lottery spins.

* * * *

Each and every life form

Perceives its own version of the matrix.

None is more real, none is more true, than any other.

485

We are all wandering the quantum matrix.

Sometimes running, sometimes walking, sometimes standing,

Sometimes swimming, sometimes flying, sometimes waking, sometimes sleeping.

But of the same infinitely inexplicable mystery all the while.

* * * *

You seek nirvana, bliss, grace, samadhi, call it what you will.

Well, just still the thoughts, detach from the world, and breathe.

Yet another perception in the ephemeral pool of indelible awareness,

Available whenever the given mind can to such indivisibility be managed.

486

Do not confuse what you think or what you do

With the prior-to-consciousness awareness you are.

487

What are the sensory organs – eyes, ears, tongue, nose, flesh – of any mortal vessel

But readers of the ever-streaming colors, flavors, tastes, smells, and textures.

What is any universe but awareness witnessing the creative handiwork

Of the mind’s rendering of the data the nervous system weaves?

* * * *

What is birth but the beginning of a story, and death its end.

It is in the manifestation, the consciousness, that all creation unfolds.

For the newborn, not a care in the world, chaste awareness,

Witnessing the senses buzz away, slowly sculpting,

The narrative, the chronicle ahead.

489

How attentive are you the garden world about you?

The birth, the death, and all the exquisite dancing between.

And all the befores, all the durings, all the afters,

Ever the same inexplicable mystery.

* * * *

What agony, what ecstasy, it is to exist: every possible torment, every possible delight.

Each and every life form – across all time, across all space – experiencing a unique rendering.

And the awareness prior to the quantum source, witnessing it all – right here, right now – in every way.

490

If you were that which is godness, and wanted to experience each and every one-of-a-kind creation,

How else to do it but by casting your Self center stage in each and every role?

It is, indeed, a god-eat-god, beyond-all-pales mystery.

And you are the godness, in just one of its incalculable forms.

492

What is the smallest small, what is the largest large,

And what are you if not the awareness, the nothingness,

The indivisibility that weaves within and without all.

* * * *

Human existence as it is known

Is about the accumulation of imaginary conception.

To release the mind that attains is to relinquish all to the eternal nowness,

The timelessness that is as near to the one and only ultimate reality

As awareness through consciousness is capable of perceiving.

It is to discern that which is prior to all form,

That mystery you truly are.

493

And in that oblivion, that obscurity, that emptiness, that gap, that space,

That abyss, that vacuum, that void, that nothingness,

That nada of awareness, you are.

* * * *

Unhook the engine, let loose all the baggage cars.

Be that sharp-cutting-edge, up-front-and-center awareness,

That which was never born, that which never dies,

That which you truly are and are not.

494

We all have an individual worldview, a unique universe of our own making.

All are equally authentic in their own indelible, imaginary way,

All are equally formed of the same quantum source,

The same inexplicable mystery.

There is no way it can ever be truly changed.

It may gradually evolve into something somewhat dissimilar,

But its roots will always harbor the conditioning of its nature-nurture beginnings.

* * * *

You see and hear and taste and smell and touch

Through the mind-body filter to which you are so attached.

The memes of dreamtime have molded you into a pattern you think you.

Only by discerning the indivisible awareness prior to the nature-nurture programming

Can the essential, intrinsic freedom of that which is timeless, that which is eternal life, be truly won.

495

The human paradigm, perhaps the paradigm of all manifest, conscious existence, created of awareness,

Is about consumption of the given sensory feed: sights, sounds, tastes, smells, textures.

Experiences of every imaginary scope, filling every conceivable moment.

Meditation is a state of beingness, less about consuming,

Than it is riding the kaleidoscoping wave,

Impassively witnessing the inexplicably timeless mystery,

That which has neither beginning nor end, cause nor purpose, rhyme nor reason.

* * * *

Every form is an energy transmutation module,

Every moment taking in and giving out

As the indivisibility of the matrix

Churns on and on and on.

* * * *

To discern the awareness prior to consciousness,

You must look prior to all the perceptions, all the memories,

Prior to all the thoughts drifting willy-nilly in the smoke of imagination.

Consciousness is but an imaginary veil, behind which is ever the essence you truly are.

497

Are you really this form, this mind-body?

Or is it merely a vehicle for consciousness to play out its dream,

And you nothing more than a passenger, a witness,

Awareness timelessly observing it all.

499

The addictive mind is an insatiable mind, a consuming force obsessed with every possible extreme:

Food, sex, alcohol, drugs, religion, power, fame, fortune, materialism, greed ad infinitum.

A habitual, undisciplined, pride-filled mind, driven to debilitating dependency,

By what is really nothing more than a kaleidoscoping sensory theater.

Ever running from the aloneness, the stillness, the essence,

Of the indelible mystery permeating everything.

500

Pretend you are already dead.

Die to time, literally be here now, right here, right now,

As still as the morning dew, totally alone, eternally present, not a care in the world,

All knowledge vaporized, no family, no friends, no enemies, no problems,

No attachment to the pleasures and pains of the sensory feed,

Complete negation of any and all assumptions,

Nothing more, nothing less,

No body, no identity, no possessions,

Nothing more than pure, still, attentive awareness.

* * * *

The awareness, the spirit, the soul, the essence, the mystery,

How can it be said to belong to anybody, if not everybody and everything?

In the raging sea of metaphors, it is all very much the same.

* * * *

And if it is perchance in your cards to figure out this mystery of mysteries,

How far will you glean it? What will you say? What will you do?

How will you play this, what might be called, fate of fates?

The Last Page

Those whose destiny it is to become seers ponder many things

Until they gradually become aware of the foundation of consciousness itself,

And in that observant attentiveness to the awareness that never sleeps,

Their minds discern that from whence all things come and go,

And in that awareness merge back into the indivisibility

Of the eternity that is, has ever been, will ever be.

* * * *

If the world, if the universe, was truly real,

How could it, would it, every instant be changing?

Only you do not change, only you have ever been the same,

Only you have ever been the one and only you,

Awareness, witnessing a dream.