Stories without words...

 

Stories 

Without words..

Words create

The illusion of

Separation in

Telling a story..

That which is 

Not words

Background

Is indefinable 

A story without

Words seeming 

As nothing

And everything..

Ultimately the

Words are also

Unseparated

Appearances of

Nothing and

Everything...

Storytime...

 

Storytime..

Everything

Each word and

Words together

Are stories..

There's more:

What are thought

To be fact and

Report and history

Are also stories..

Stories are one with

Time and space

Encasing a

Narrative..

We jump into

Storytime's

Plights and

Joys and sufferings

Believing and

Identifying..

Until another story

Finds that

Already 

There's

No beginning 

No end

To storytime...

The wholeness lens...

 

A wholeness lens

Is no lens at all

Cannot be put on

Is already on..

Concealed perhaps

By a splitting lens

Until that lens

Is found as illusion..

We don't dismiss

The stories unfolding

In that illusory lens

These stories and

This story are

The elixir of Life...

Happening...

 

Just

The immediacy

Of what is

Happening..

Which is

Infinite and

Unexplainable...

The brain...

 

The brain

Adds a chapter to

The story of 

Simply not two..

The new story

Finds the brain as

Creator and actor

A colorful character

Appearing on stage..

There may be 

Another chapter

About a small gland

The pineal

With a mysterious

Role..

More stories arrive

As apparent 

Observations unfold..

Another story is

The danger of 

Forgetting or

Not forgetting

The simple

Story of not two...

A science story..

 

A science story:

Non-location appearing

To locate here

In front of

Astonished

Experimental eyes...

A seeking story...

 

Is there is a "you"

Still standing

At the end of

Some repeated

Attendances..?

Are you

Standing with

Folded arms

In an interlude

Of expectation..?

Nothing wrong

Or right..

A seeking story

Apparently

Unfolded... 

Not knowing..

 

Not knowing

Anything really

Because the things

We thought

We knew..are

Empty things

Expressing

Emptiness..

They're

Appearances 

Which may

Vibrate as

Freedom...

Bounded...

 

Bounded

Circumscribed

Bordered

Mapped

Are stories

Imagined

Appearing

Passed down

From yesterday

And ages past..

Stories which

Dance as freedom...

Already...

Birth and death..

 

Birth and death

Markings of separation

Take place in time

Inevitable as

Everybody knows

In clock time's script..

This is the illusionary 

Transcription of

Birth/death

Simultaneity

Without 

Weight and fear...

Teaching...

 

The teacher's 

Dilemma:

The stories in  the

Curriculum

Are already nothing..

So..really there is

Nothing to teach...

Everybody knows..(Leonard Cohen

 

"Everybody knows that the dice are loaded

Everybody rolls with their fingers crossed

Everybody knows that the war is over

Everybody knows the good guys lost

Everybody knows the fight was fixed

The poor stay poor, the rich get rich

That's how it goes

Everybody knows."

AI...

 

AI (Artificial Intelligence)

The complaint 

Is that

The artist is

Missing and

The art

Simply appears..

Well...?

With his passing...

 

With his passing

We remember times of

Our families together..

Those youthful sounds 

Crying and laughter

Working and caring 

And tasting of joy

In the wild beauty of

Foggy Mt. Tam..

These are permanent

Etchings in this

Moment of grief 

Which will yield

As the days gather

To wondrous memories

In  Life never ending...

~~Charlie Coon

Freedom felt...

 

Freedom 

Can be felt

With resonant

Appearances..

Which 

Although empty

Are vibrant with

Life...

"" Wondrous Pseudoreality""

 

"Wondrous Pseudoreality"

So many people come to the realization that self is a mental fabrication. Very very few realize that there are no things or non things.

And unfortunately I know several people who have come to the realization that there is no self and walk around saying that they don't exist. They have no opinions or beliefs and are simply non-people now.

There was a beautiful Sage who wrote a post saying

"I remember the days when I used to be a person and I had friends etc."

And all I could say is that after the shift is the only time I ever got real friends real intimacy.

She said friends are people you hang out with and talk late into the night and tell your deepest hopes and fears to and dreams about the future

And I said 'I never had friends like that'

And yet many many people love her and I love her writing as well, but I can hear so many people saying oh I can't wait until I am no longer a self

Until I have no friends

Until there is no desire

Until I can spend a year in absolute silence...

All of this perpetuates the common misunderstanding that enlightenment means that you escape or leave your beautiful humanness. That you will never feel pain or sorrow or joy or love again. All feelings continue somewhat as they did before except they are felt truly deeply because they're not happening to anyone. Also there's no urge or desire at all to reign them in

to label them

to figure out why they're there

to try to change them or erase them.

You find that life is embracing you as you are embracing it. Infinitely wondrously intimate always.

It's like you are the knowing that you exist only as a dream character in this dream life in this wondrous pseudoreality where love and beauty flourish.

~~Nancy Neithercut

Paradox Message...

 

Paradox

Can convey the

Message of

No separation

For no one...

Nowhere appearing...

 

Not out there

Not in here

Where?

Nowhere

Appearing as

Everywhere...

Cleaning the slate..

 

Cleaning the slate

Is the advice of some

Teachers non-dual..

But there is no slate

Or cleaner of same..

But it may be

The cleaner and slate

And the teacher are

Simultaneously 

Flushed away which

May be a frightening 

Or a happy ending to

This teacher story...

Chaos and order are not 2...

 

Chaos

Is the unknown..

The attempt to

Understand is

Searching and finding

Many orders of 2:

Subject and object

Inner and outer..

There seems no end

To the orders of 2

But seeking persists

Until the appearance

Of chaos as order

Not two

The reign of unknowing

For no one...

Shutting eyes to reality...

 

Seeing

The miraculous in

Everything

Apparently depends

On the death of the

Autonomous one...

The worst is not death but being blind, blind to the fact that everything about life is in the nature of the miraculous. The language of society is conformity; the language of the creative individual is freedom. Life will continue to be a hell as long as people who make up the world shut their eyes to reality. 

~~Henry Miller

(Book: Stand Still Like the Hummingbird)

Much ado about nothing..

 

Much ado 

About nothing..

The much ado

Is the stage play 

Life appearing 

On a stage..

Nothing appearing

As the characters on

No stage at all..

Yet we on the stage

Seeking escape from

Tragi-comic scripts

Seeking desperately

For Nothing

Appearing as 

Much ado...

(Crediting the

originator of

Much Ado!)

The story is permission...

 

The story

Can seem as 

Permission..

The story need be

Recognized as story

Which finds freedom 

For no one..

Expression allowed

Without worry of 

Correctness..as

Enforced by

Non-dual police..!

The worry is

Found as

One more story..

Permission..ahhh

A pass for 

Easy breathing...

Beliefs from someone else..

 

 

We think we are free

But alas..as long as

Separation and autonomy

Are sown into our 

Cloak of beliefs

We are borrowers

Accumulators

Of beliefs not our own..

Freedom eludes..

Freedom is felt when

It is found that these

Borrowings are also

Expressions of

Indefinable Freedom...

You think you are free, but there probably isn’t a gesture, a thought, an emotion, an attitude, or a belief in you that isn’t coming from someone else. Isn’t that horrible? And you don’t know it. A mechanical life has been stamped into you.

You feel pretty strongly about certain things, and you think it is you who are feeling strongly about them, but are you really? It’s going to take a lot of awareness for you to understand that perhaps this thing you call 'I' is simply a conglomeration of your past experiences, your conditioning, and your programming.

That’s painful. In fact, when you’re beginning to awaken, you experience a great deal of pain. It’s painful to see your illusions being shattered. Everything that you thought you had built up crumbles - and that’s painful.

Anthony de Mello