#1

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[Come to think of it, I’ve probably spent a pretty good chunk of my life looking out of windows. I don’t know if I would necessarily call it a pastime or anything, but now that I’m pondering it, it seems like something I’ve always done  since I was a child. Whether it was looking out from the backseat of a car, or out a schoolroom window, my eye was always tempted away from whatever it was I should be looking at; maybe because whatever I should have been focusing on seemed so trivial and paltry compared to whatever I could dream up of the wide world outside. 

Cars whizzing by; the people in them somehow always perceived my gaze, as if by some kind of E.S.P. The sunset gleaming off of the power lines, whose swinging dances in the pale breeze could have kept me hypnotized for hours - I can’t help but get swept up in it at times, even the remotest twilight hours when a memory is far away.]

[Contiguous, contentious love

An outpouring of unspoken grievances

Flooding the kitchen,

Stilted water up to our calves -

The high water mark tells all]

The idea that you have no identity usurping your desire and even your entire need for the concept of ‘identity’ - a nothing less than nothing; riding out the spiral into a void immutable, enveloping, total. 

I always cook for two, and eat for one.

I am constantly fascinated by the symbol of the shaman, the gaucho - observing spectacle from a tall vantage point while others can only exist within it as a sort of membrane; the hermit whose warnings remain unheeded in their own time, only received as whisper-quiet echoes in the quiet halls of an empty future. An obscurantist sneering and laughing.

Massive waves of apocryphal cultural and social cycles crashing down upon one another - the swimmers drown while the surfers hang ten.

Hollowed out. Swallowed whole.  

De ception                              Re active 

Re ception                              Pro active 

Per ception                             No active

Gkö  ception                          Ver  active

Non ception                          Cre active

When will we realize the full implications of how our actions echo throughout time?

[there is no such thing as time, remember?] 

i want to bathe myself in lightning and break my teeth on the shore of your kiss; the infinite layers of intricate mirages collapse into one another - trillions of outcomes and actions collapsing into one certain wave, whose bright flash is enough to engulf all perception and awareness, then fizzle out into void once more.

invisible images swimming restlessly in the mind. the need for noise, and respite. trepanation recommended.

I hunger for a feedback that will vibrate my heart into explosion, for a surge of noise to smite me like the most violent lightning in an apocalyptic storm

A wish for all beliefs and all notions to dissolve arises. “I” also wish to dissolve. “I” wish to transcend “I” and to eschew wishing altogether - to eschew any and all action whatsoever. Simply to allow, not to do. There can be no “doing”, as there is seemingly no “doer”. As such, there can also be no “allowing”. There can only be nothing. 

Nothing and everything, in perfect holy union. An infinite interplay among two opposing forces - a waltz, a crawling contradiction; a perceived distant echo of an ancient whisper barely heard, like starlight that takes eons to reach eyes on Earth - more than likely only imagined rather than witnessed..

 Blinded, somnambulant - the body moves throughout an apparent relationship between “time and space”, cultivating a centered perspective, writing a narrative, and separating itself from the bigger picture with the aid of language. 

Language - the eternal devil on all perceived shoulders. Like the loudest and sludgiest kind of radio static, it invites a sense of pareidolia and it seems to be elusive and deceptive by design. It can feel as if whoever the first person to come up with the original language system had some sort of ulterior motive - as if they derived language itself as a kind of trick. It can be that language is confused with communication - but this is not so. 

Animals and plants communicate without language, whether through gestures or vibrations, or both really - as in essence they are one and the same. It seems as if, based on available evidence, humans are the only entities capable of constructing complex languages. Questions arise: is language simply an embarrassing overcomplication of communication? An inept and naive attempt at categorizing chaos? [If nonduality is the “core” essence of this consciousness, language would appear to be an inherent antagonist.]

Lately, i’ve been fixated on dreams and contacting the dead

[..]

Horace drums his paws against the door

In some of my dreams I am often a trespasser or thief. Constantly shifting and contorting to fit through the narrowest of passageways, I am like a rodent living off of the rot within a wall. Footsteps echo atop one another as I loop through labyrinthine structures, evading whoever is pursuing me with frantic caution. Whether they have wronged me or I have wronged them is always unclear, but an aura of guilt typically hovers over the whole dream like an omnipotent fog.

Black is not simply the absence of all colors - it is every color, all at once. Therefore, Void as we think of it is not Void at all, it is joyous and absolute.

• (The reversed echoes of footsteps in an empty hallway, calling out achingly through gaps in space… )

[ A drink of pure divine light… ]