I was forced into this...

My friend Adam Eliyahu Feelz mentioned the matter of a dream, concerned that they remain as a distant and unactualized portion of our being.

There are few communal dreams, though casting off the yoke of an oppressor might yet be largely shared. Oracles and interpreters, oneiromancers, assisted in their understanding, and many a prophet is said to have attained prophecy only while in an unconscious state.

Why is this? What is a dream?
In reading prophecy we are shown a nature of reality as it is not yet - that is just around the corner, always - a better world. In dreaming, there is a dissolution of self, an upspringing of seeds watered, the vision of plants breathing fresher air.

The conditioned mind taking waking consciousness as the only true reality - but this mind is as yet unawakened to the imagination, and the play-work of bringing reality to fantasy.
In waking, from dreams of shaking off the dust and chains of our oppressors and rising, the waking-consciousness instates imagined impositions of impossibility over the fields of reality, limiting and denying the fulfillment of liberation. This waking-state, however, is as yet unconscious of its own self being a dismemberer and slayer of dreams, of the greater world that already is but it chooses not to see.

It is only right that dreams occur in fits and starts, enrollment at the Collage of Discontinuous Jumbles, multiple REM states - the subterranean flows, the thawing of numb and concretized monoliths.

"Just to be is a blessing. To live is holy."
- Abraham Joshua Heschel

I have found my soul in a fallen state,
chase after but it evades...
and fall further yet.

Apparently we are playing different games, or I'm too serious, or...
... ooh, what's that?!
Okay now, for real
(and for fun) - now is time to co-create, to construct mutual accordance with it; via values and being, conceptions conceiving.
Becoming magnet to the Light.

I askest thou, who wantest working for a prude who seeks diminishing our heart, truly? Who wishes to offer up the depths of their being to one whom would neither acknowledge its value nor could ever compensate its worth?
Move zig, you know what you doing.

Also been doing that winterly contemplation and consideration, of things that have passed and where to go from here - indeed, how to do what is necessary in life that it may not be trodden down upon from the forces of life-denial. Tis a long battle with much imagination, taking a chisel to the heart and reluctantly swinging for the sake of not wanting to exchange selfish pleasures for something greater yet in wholesomeness. Then there's getting caught up in those self-conditioned distractions, then coming to know, re-re-membering, yet again (& again & again), that they hold hostage all temporal freedom; and, tied to this, that the world is ill and continuing its decline (forced and otherwise), and that we have time precious time. Very very precious time. (Not "my precious" but our precious, rather).

You know, that eternal and inner struggle that reincarnates time and again until it is finally prepared a vessel in which to liberate and set loose its forces, beyond the confines of proper thought and concepts, but into and through our bodies out into the world of action and being, for more than our selves. How many times must it seek sprouting yet hit up against its husk and turn back? must it get caught up in shiny-pretty-pleasing&enjoyable things? to never attain its ideal, and seek after sorry excuses for surrogates to health, that drip upon us as venom upon Loki --- for how long shall we marry ourselves to that which not only poisons us, but through us mitigates the abundance of the whole of the world and its fullness?
¡Ya basta!

Dear lord body, why do you treat me this way? I know last night was a little rough, but why didn't you give me some signals to tell me this would be a morning of repercussions? It's been a while since I've had fun as such, isn't that reason enough not to treat me this way?

"First of all, there is a world of difference between that of fun and that of stupidity and disregard - not that fun is exclusive to these things, but if that's what you're after, why not get in touch with those Jackass guys?
"And second, how bloody daft need ye be to heed not the signals I've kept eternally? By the way, my flatmate Conscience here doesn't much care for being ignored, either."

Fuck, why you gotta go and make me feel stupid?

"Well a double fuck back at you, why you gotta go imbibing poisons and thinking stupid shit, throwing off what could be a healthy relationship? I thought your incarnation here was indicative of a desire to cohabit, not to shit in your own backyard and then crawl up next to it for warmth. Then, to add insult to injury, you come trying to lay a guilt trip on me? Look, you've been told once and a hundred and one times, so why don't you take what know, listen to it rather than those base short-sighted 'ideas' of 'yours', stop forgetting and start living by truth for a change!?"

Jesus, body, how can you talk without this here mouth? Body?? Oi, is hearing non-auditory hallucination voices near to schizophrenia?

[different voice ]
"Schizophrenia?"

Schizophrenia, is that you?

"Am I Schizophrenia? What is my name? Who am I speaking with, is this identity male, white, a thirty year old, a Chad? Something other in the likeness of a... what?
"who?
"why?"

Ah, so you are something other than body now, it sounds. That doesn't mean you have to be evasive now, however.

"Me evasive? Even your 'own' identity is a shape-shifter based on convenience, inclination, or whatever haves you. You seek for a name of a so-called thing, a thing which changes through your position, perspective, and relationships, conceptions -- you might as well try and drive some nails down into water and see what kind of response you can hold on to."

I didn't ask to be confused.

"Well, neither does your approach set you up for anything else. Poke a hole through a sheet then look at the sun, and expect for the totality? --- what are you on? Come now, we are a face on a face and a mask on a mask; turtles, face to face, stacked infinitely. Transcendence made imminent, imminence transcended, fractally, dancing mutually
for you and I to be
more than ever could we
conceive

Police Block Protesters From Bringing Food To Zuccotti Park For Christmas Celebration

~~~

WTF.

In 1914, German and British soldiers had been battling and killing each other for nearly six months. Yet when Christmas came around, they put down their weapons, drank together, and buried their dead.

The United States is not at such an escalated level of war against its own citizens, at least it seems so to many. Yet many are waking up to the fact that there is also a "war at home"; for when violence is put forth to others, there is always the (often overlooked) fact of the dominating & exploitative system demonizing also those on the home turf that drag their feet in the processes of greasing its gears, the gears of the beast (to say nothing of monkey wrenchers). [No matter the shielding of a microwave, there are unavoidable waves of blowback, perceived as harmless, acceptable, or what have you.]

And in this act by the NYPD (and the delineation of power thereto) against those wishing to assemble and share in food, community, and festivities at Zuccotti Park, we are granted an ever amplifying accumulation of evidence that the interests of money, and its lovers, are the complete inversion of hospitality - to say nothing of its more blatant expressions of life-denial.

Agents of oppression and suppression (and disinformation and the distractions of media saturation/inundation) are summoning the forces of Mammon, secular agents included. The linear insanity of "too big to fail" (i.e. too monopolicetic to be tried and judged) has overshadowed and choked out its complimenting weedy & rhizomatic life forces of wholism, balance and diversity, it has not been true to ecology, and now its over-consumption is cycling back upon and into itself. The cycles of return, the cycles return.

Speaking of which... we have just passed the winter solstice of 2011, and the days begin again to grow longer - and 2012 draws nearer. Many encampments have been forcibly busted up or disbanded, sometimes due to cold. The winter soil may be too hard to plant in, and indeed, very few seed could survive, yet all these facts do not equate for this being a time of sadness. No, surely now is the season of designing our garden, tending greenhouses, of studying tactics of and for the days when yin-yang non-hierarchical formations can and are to be implemented. The system malfunctions and shatters of its own design, so opposing it may not be necessary; yet unless we set to building up alternatives to it, our livelihoods shall still be determined by it. From reactive resistance to proactive assistance.

All apologies if this got side-tracked, but I swear, the holiday spirits were invoked, and accept full responsibility.

i do not believe the 1% are a class of people, but a potential expression in every person when selfishness arises in any relationship - yet many a time we have not properly educated ourselves in its variations, and at other times we may practice cultural bias.
there is many a CEO who would be just as greedy if he were a homeless, and many a homeless who would be just as selfish were she a CEO.
i've said it before and i'll say it again: occupy wholeness, occupy peace, occupy abundance, occupy 100%

Thought for a while I was drawing closer to source of my essence - that an additional dimension, heretofore hidden, was being revealed.
As things have continued, said relationship has not been as golden as imagined - and no matter how much it is polished, no genie comes out to grant one's eternal wishes.

For another while now, the absolute unity of all has been a part of my experience and sensations - though sometimes forgotten and ignored. Somehow, through all of this, there is a chasm within me that is growing - a divide which, though recognizing the intertwined continuum of all, seeks cleaving in two, rather than the cleaving to, of this same oneness.
Let me further define: there is this urge within, this tension, which wants nothing more than to finally choose one of the ends across this divide.
And I stand in paralysis at the gate.

On the one hand there is everything in my history that constitutes me, the totality of family and friends and relationships, the best and the worst experiences, all -- everything within this world that has brought me to this point.
On the other hand I face the essence of my being, that which stands beyond historical construction/adulteration, which in almost the entirety of it seems to be complete greater truths, except in respect: it demands transcendence of origins, which, for whatever reason, I have issues with this. Though throughout most of my upbringing group identities have had little bearing on me (I don't take myself to be white, heterosexual, male, human, Chad - except in the sense that these are what others call me, thus there is that construction of identity), therefore it is especially hard for me to understand why such an issue with pursuing the eternal (also: dissolving into it [bitul hayesh - "not my will but..."]) persists. Something (part of me?) tells me this would be betrayal of all that made me what I am. What is this something? What are its desires? How to both transcend and include?

It didn't happen as planned. From the very start obstacles and diversions grafted onto the goal, like lovely little leeches (nothing against them, honest). It's somewhat akin to shaving your face, only to find a wart here, a recess there, whereas upon multiple earlier inspections, all appeared smooth and peachy. The bus wasn't running according to schedule, the whole schedule was shifted forward a quarter of a day, and my room still needed vacating. One flatmate consented to moving things at the cost of a few books (and maybe bucks, this is yet to be determined).

A friend woken too early comes to the rescue, ferreting me away to catch the bus to Chicago. A couple hours into the trip, and there's a shift change for the driver. The new man, unlike the first, gives an explanation of a number of rules, one of which pertains to those on the upper deck.
What?! How did that get up there?? Somehow my observant self hadn't noticed, and trying to get verification with my own eyes, I futilely placed my face against the window, trying to see, as a fish in water trying to spy the surface of the water, from outside of the water, as it were. The horizon went uncrossed, and my doubt of the statement slowly gave way.

Get off the bus, try and find Megabus that a ticket could be purchased. After throwing coins at a panhandler he tells me where it is. Well, there is a pickup and dropoff, but no station. Tickets must be purchased online. Running around I eventually find wireless, only to find that the netbook a friend has lent me was running all through the nearly four hour bus ride, and the refrigerated goodies for the road had been heated alongside the rest of the backpack's contents. Battery near dead, trying to figure things out, there is a woman across the way talking on the phone, saying "bitch" every third or fourth word. Upon packing the netbook back, I glance over, see another sit next to this woman (a total of four now in that corner), and also, she never was on a phone, but simply speaking into the ether.

I call up the friend who has a free ticket voucher, she calls up customer service to put things in order. Waiting for a response, I and a stranger whom, two weeks ago, got out of five years of prison, begin conversing the good stuff: work, society, bombs, hallucinogens.
Three quarters of an hour later my travel partner to be (you know, the lady that called customer service) informs that the bus is full up, her & I share a few minutes more of conversation, then I wonder how, with a near dead phone battery, same with the laptop battery, and not knowing anyone in Chicago anymore, what is to be done. After a brief talk with another stranger, it is time to stand.

Outside the Amtrak & Union Stations, looking around wondering which way to go wandering, a man walks up, asks some questions, and offers to walk me around. What the hell, right? (as in: why not?). We go all abouts, to a spaceship looking building, but prior to this (and my giving him one of my two highly depleted tubes of toothpaste), outside of one of the even more massive than normal constructs of giants (Chicago Board of Trade), we pass a slew of sleeping bags and other living possessions, looking like a small homeless lounge just off the street. It wasn't fifteen minutes after wondering where to stay, that this happened, and after talking with a couple of the young gentlemen involved in this sidewalk occupation, my sleeping bag joins theirs.

And here's where it all stands. Tomorrow at 7 a.m. get on a bus to Cincinnati, join up with a crew of two, and ride on down to New Orleans. While in Louisiana, it'll be visiting time with a couple of cousins (the Cajun one whom hasn't been seen in over a decade, and, upon finding out about these visits, exclaims that he's preparing himself for some revelrous mutual drinking, dear God). From there, towards Florida, then maybe Arizona, California, Portland, and Denver. The limitations here are where we can get rides to (no vehicles were brought) with whatever money we have (and if I hope to make it some ways along, this generosity towards panhandlers shall have to be cut back on [or perhaps reciprocated..!]). Now, the coffee is nearly room temperature, the batteries sufficiently re-juiced, the music suddenly sounds like a bad rehash of a rehash of Sarah McLachlan's 'Silence, and the protesters are across the street reading poetry in the sprinkles. Yeah, until later. Take care and make care, peoples.

We are (/all is) hewn from the same rock of this universe,
from a principled vitality that transcends it (the universe), and yet immanentizing within it, both.

Randy said he is surviving, and isn't that good enough? I said survival is one point on the rung above considering offing one's self, and that if life isn't good, what you're living and calling life is a diminishing of life.
"It's all the same," or "what's the difference?" has been asked.
Does one call pasteurized skim milk by the name of raw whole milk? Who confuses rape for making love? In some cases distinctions must be made, to not do so is to succumb to the allure of life-denying delusions, to consider murder as giving life, for example. Every portion of existence is distinct from all others, in at least due to its unique situation in the continuum of time-space, --- our universe is unified through endless distinction.

"Our work is never over." & "One more time we're gonna celebrate."
There is a great fear in some in working for that which will never end. "If there's no retirement, I want no part in it," I overheard her say.
Anything which does not ultimately concede to immense comfort, is absolute affliction, and thus must be avoided. If it cannot be completed, packaged, and set aside, it errs on the side of the never-ending and, thus, is imperfect, flawed. "If I cannot consume it in its entirety by the time of my death, that'll leave in me a great gap, un-fulfillment."

What is with this? Is not this one of the most harmful of notions? Let me explain.
There are people in this world whom, seeing that there are countless ways to become better people, refuse to even begin doing so because this undertaking would not be complete by the time they meet the undertaker. Let's take this from the individual to the global scale; many people believe there is no hope for this planet, so what's littering once, one harmful deed, another cruel glance -- what are these going to matter?
I'll tell you. This mindset matters so much that it is of immense gravity, to the degree of nearing hyperdensity (as of a black hole¹).

Some cultures have it where, if one digs a ditch and someone falls into it, the digger is responsible for damages. Now, some sage of a name I know not made this correlation: to walk around with a sad countenance is as if one has dug emotional potholes.
"What?!? But a person's ability to forego external influences is their own personal responsibility, and, additionally, within their capability to control, so they need not be affected by my frowning."
Precisely, so why are you frowning in the first place?

~~~

"Pfffft! It's my life and I'm free to do with it what I wish."
Surely this is the case, but what of those who endanger the well-being of others?
"But I'm not causing it, they're just responding that way!"
And so it goes, responsibility rests on the shoulders of others, double standards, inability to accept the contagion of mood (and its consequent reactions), and, here's the real kicker: 1) "we have free will," 2) "they/it made me..."
further, a) "I'm a responsible adult," b) "it wasn't my fault."

Paradox is a beautiful thing, but this is not the kind of beauty that should cost us the world. At some point the buck of responsibility must be picked up, and elevated, communally. At this point, it will not be gravity, but levity, something that gets us up rather than weighs us down. We may never reach it in its entirety, its full completion, and thus "it cannot attain perfection." But this definition of perfection relying on completion at a limited point in time is incomplete in itself, and here's why - its finite temporal perspective demands the completion of something which will go on transforming for billions of years beyond our deaths, to be static... it calls on the wind to become stone, and a sunset to engrave itself onto the sky. This notion is very ignorant of the beauty of that which is always passing/renewing, and looks at a single point fuzzily shifting upon the line which stretches on for all eternity, scoffs and says "pfffft! imperfect," never acknowledging the endless continuity which evades all demands of limited finite perception. "Yeah, the rest of the spectrum sucks because my sense perspectives can't pin it down. I'm not divisive, but I judge the whole by divided portions."

Our lives might near one hundred years.
The work of bettering our world is without limit. This calls for countless ingenuity.
Pleasure sought is more transient than pleasure attained as consequence.
Altruism (due to its expanded identification with more than just one's individual self) brings greater joy than egoism; not all vessels hold equal values - it has been said that the meeting of Rumi and Shams-i Tabrizi was as the meeting of two oceans.

In summation: our lives are finite, the work needed is endless, it calls for enough creativity to never be boring, and is more meaningful and fulfilling than pleasure seeking. It is nigh time to engage ourselves to that without end.


-----[footnote(s)]-----
1. "nearing hyperdensity (as of a black hole)[...]" -- I have this strange consideration, completely unverified (and unverifiable, I hear), that no less than one black hole has been instigated by consciousness, a form of self-awareness which wished to escape existence, and collapsed in upon itself. But, due rather to the ineradicable nature of reality, was contagious, and spread throughout a semi-intergalactic civilization due to paucity of will in opposition to its forces, they went with the flow of the diminishingness, and now they eat light and share it not.

This has been verified on the human individual level by those with such desire and intent [to do no harm yet to escape existing], they say spooky things happen when they speak of these things, and then the spoken of manifests upon mention. I've seen it with my own eyes. Hastur Hastur...

I have absolutely no idea what's going on in my life, but know pretty well what I'm doing. That is, the result, where it's getting me, are unknowns - mystery, but that I want to get to that place, and am growingly willing to do what it takes to learn to get there, to do what I learn, to learn what matters. There are yet husks to shed and garments to don (incomplete perfections come to mind, but this isn't quite what's being gotten at), somewhat like the purgatory of unsureness, and a side of exponential joy - and only one of these is growing.

Technology. Endless tinkering and tweaking fucking rocks. And this is not just toys. We have created things no other form of evolution over billions of years of history could even conceive of, a cough on the timeline of earth, a population chart breaks almost completely perpendicular skyrocketing into space but hasn't yet found sustenance, a blip on the radar that's going supernova. The gadgets are melding their ways into our lives in ever more intricate and complicated manners, and there is immense intelligence and creativity behind this. And this is nothing short of absolutely fantastic. In this fusion with all these new transients, there is an expanding focus on and view of what's out there, and not uncommonly an accompanying overshadowing of this upon both introspection and contemplation.

This is profoundly lamentable. Eternity sputtered, immeasurability was caged and dissected, divinity fell into and was dragged in the dirt. That which is with us always is turned away from, forgotten, and now we claim sovereign independence, dominance. Allegiance to ourselves, to those who don't say no to us.
That which is always with us is ourselves, eachother. By nature, we cannot escape our own being, and just as we are incredible crafters, our abilities at storytelling are no less impressive; the evil of the world is unparalleled by human deceit, quantitatively speaking - and they feed each other. They feed each other eachother.

There is a story about a planet - a global civilization, living in harmony. They developed machines that opened gates to other worlds. Though they loved one another like no other being in all the galaxies had loved any, their love for these otherworldly realms was greater yet. These people had a special way of concentrating labor into the hands of others, fewer and fewer powered the system and saw to its reparations, and eventually the maintenance of all these cosmic conduits rested in the hands of one, whom got so lonely and so curious, said "the wheel will run itself," and left.

Similarly, there is an ecology to all of this - the enemy of my enemy is my friend. "Not in my backyard," indeed; and when we wake up to discover our backyard is no less than all of the earth, how then will we look upon those same atrocities in those same locations? Looking through different conceptions, mustn't this change our perspective?
- where is the threshold of entry which opens our existence irredeemably past the place of a particular point on a line, into the manifold unified essence stretched through the married continuum?
The brain knows the stubbing of the toe, heaven and earth kiss, and countless organisms weave through the island, between islands, islands and streams through the planet, planets the solar system, solar systems the galaxy, galaxies the universe, universe in the big bang, big bangs in eternity, eternities in timelessness, timelessnesses in what, whats in huh?
And no thing escapes the parallel processing of mutual existence - the residual threads dance the dance of flaking skin, some becoming cognizant and thereby bolstered through this dancing of the tapestry on which all hangs, through this cognizance to dancing the dance of the harmony of awakening unity and not succumbing to the clamorous no matter how glamorous.

They said winter's gonna last forever, or if it does happen to thaw, it's only gonna come again anyway. She's getting restless, wants to plant her garden, as is he, but with another itch. The ground's frozen, his scab's too fresh, and the discontent of the not-here drapes over the present, presence seems to present itself as absence, so insistent is the nonsense. Seeds of seasons and wanderings rumble patiently beneath pavement awaiting a break in its energy intensive maintenance, a crack, and look - whoosh! - outpourings! Life glorifying its overcoming of snoring, ensuring the tapestry that it shall be exploring the amplification and elevation of greatness. And so it is with the interrelation of our fate, if we ease up enough beauty arises - the kind we can refuse to see with our eyes, which could be sad, but how much more awesome are the things that we only recognize later! Through awareness, recognition, through recognition, gratitude, through gratitude, praise, and where there is praise elation joins in.

And that, perhaps, is the point on which to begin.
Our ideal may very well be the furthest thing from us, as the distance between one end of the universe to the other, and if we are the most finite things and that which we seek is infinity, if we can at least feel the distance between us and it as immeasurable, as infinite, at least we in relation to it are infinitely opposite, infinitely small, and in this sense participate in our own manner of infinite, that there is a spark of a spark of the endless within us, and within  the between.

And... the steam's run dry.

The second and seventh commandments, the second in each set of five, one G-dly, the other humanly, forbidding idolatry and adultery, respectively.

My father told of a friend's child's likely unintentional overdose on a toxin for pleasure. Heroin comes to mind. I've known and heard tales of those whom this has happened to, partaking of poison, the more lucrative and dirty ones, that can be tampered with, diluted, purity infiltrated, adulterated. For a buck [the Old Buck, not the young one]. Somewhere along the line, someone exchanges quality for a poorer result, appropriation and redistribution of benefit. Pinch the sack add oregano, add household cleaner, cut it, add preservatives, foods animals never evolved on fed to bulk them up but exchanging health for this added weight, higher turnout - less precautions.
All of these are sacrifices away from life, towards incompletion - filler, not fulfillment.
From the source of pure water at the mountain top we travel, branching off, picking up sediment, litter, plastic, urine, feces, waste dumpings, every form of unnecessary distraction takes space upon space of wholeness - this is the dismemberment of bodies, the compartmentalization of thoughts and sciences, the atomism of unity. Such cutting is a privileging of a part over the whole, solitude over relations, shortsightedness over eternal vision, a dot over the universe. The walking not the step, step, step, regimentation, today, today, today, tripping over and up the endless now.
And they gathered all the leaves and burned them to make a great fire. It did not burn long.
Then they gathered giant logs to burn even greater. But it did not catch.
They knew nothing of the marriage of complementaries [perhaps by their perceiving them as battling opposites], and served their foods unmixed, one spice here, another spice there, one leaf here, another there. Sometimes with a thick sauce drowning it all, utensil handles, napkins, seat, and all. How mighty the sauce!

There hides, about my head, a thought of immensely profound beauty dancing between the aether, the neural networks, the conceptual substrate. It smiles behind shadows evading all attempts to tag it
and I wonder, when will it make exception and assist in its expression?
Does this slippery embryo spy my desires? uprooting crabgrass after it has infiltrated fields, eliminating pythons from the everglades - similar in task, but my wish is different: to find a tether of it from outside my head, tease the fibers, nurse it from preconception and drape it ounto reality - pull the spider from the web, legs from the body, mash them all up into ink for scribing eternally, more than statue, speaking spirit

these words are simple prosthesis without you! i know what you are, abstractly, but not how you are, your particular articulation being a succinct tactical formula towards liberation from false gates.




&&&
architecture is taken as given. cornerstones, foundations, grounds. a before b. linearity. day one before two. two stands on one. a pattern of potentiality, virtuality, before actuality. existence stands on non-existence, and the waves roll back.

I get out of the car at my father's house, out in the country by an old monastery that's been on sale for the last year, approximately. The skies crisper than the not-quite-as-cold-as-it-could-be air, and the desire to head inside and pry open a book and peer into the choreography of ink set in leaves, goes up in smoke like the non-existent clouds this night. One distant sun beams its exhibitionism with extra intent above all the rest, straight at me, and I know then that this communication between it and me, that if I could stretch myself to those distant heights these arms would find the tiniest pore, these feet would kick up, and I would dive in. I know that when the pale light of all the other stars is further drowned out - somehow excluded - the shortest and clearest of paths alights of deepest resonance of untranslatable, incomprehensible distance -- and I am there.

Grooveshark has been a means of mine for music playing - seeing as my computer is yet without internet (anybody got a wireless NIC they wanna sell or such?). Grooveshark has most everything I want to hear, but not all the albums have track listings. Dealing with this in a more efficient manner than before, I've taken to looking up the album desired for hearing, then remembering the first word of a number of tracks, in order, then throwing them in queue.

Where are we going with this? Craving hearing BT's 'This Binary Universe' (absolutely phenomenal), and utilizing this method for track arrangement, we encounter the order within.

* All That Makes Us Human Continues
* Dynamic Symmetry
* The Internal Locus
* 1.618
* See You On The Other Side
* The Antikythera Mechanism
* Good Morning Kaia

Herein we find, whether by chance or not, All Dynamic The 1. See The Good, true words [true, at least, when the true is not separate from the good, from unifying principle], in seven parts. There's enough malarkey here to un-necessitate the delving through the numerological & symbolic traits of the one between six and eight.

My friend Kyle was "wondering if it is actually possible to achieve something resembling happiness with so much suffering in this world. Just think: The worst pain you have ever experienced is being replicated by millions of people at this very moment."

This, my response:
Absolutely possible! Pain is for exhilaration, not petrification.
Just because life is destined towards death (if we want to be polar [and linear instead of cyclical] about it) hardly means that death should be imprinted onto and over everything 'prior'. Just because tyranny is a possibility, does this mean one should submit to it? By no means! Numbers of people on earth awaken to find that the sun has not risen, and continues to not rise for months - some off themselves, yet many more do not. The need to elevate the negative (to negatively idealize [!]) over what it opposes and wishes to consume is mere sentiment, not true necessity. The blues are not for overtaking free will, but rather vice versa; the egg of unhappiness is for hatching, not stasis. Do we breathe poison air or plant trees? Do we believe in free will yet not exercise joy? Give bad things good purpose and the world is transformed, and us through it; resignation is laziness in caring and motivation - the imposition of impossibility over what space-time allows for does not remember the unlikelihood of all existence coming to be what it has been, is, and therefore must become (i.e. the unlikely inexplicable ineffable). Downitude is like bad television programming, it will swallow you up like a black hole if it is allowed this privilege (i.e. if the privilege of choice [what many believe makes humans unique] goes unexercised). Smile when your balls are kicked, rejoice during evisceration - this is a seemingly impossible response that has occurred time and again through determination (in part because it is not a response, but free will, creation, pro-activity). Wondering with certainty denies the wandering aspect of wondering, which is to say, of the wayward nature of all creation which we have the potential of participating in lest we neglect our essential faculties of will and choice - to neglect our deepest and truest aspects, to clothe beauty with dust and dirt, to lump clay onto a masterpiece of sculpture, to imbue sickness onto health, broken limbs onto range of motion, apathy onto sensation, surrogate to fulfillment. Sounding like a broken record yet? Well, this world is like old worn broken down falling apart shoes, and if we've only one pair and don't know the craftsman, we either engage in reparations or designate them to oblivion.

Times far from empty, life full-filling, recognizance throbbing syngergistically tautologistically. Meaning falls into mystery - paid no purpose.
in comprehension
it is not gotten

finally finishing books.
Multiples.
None are discarded
raised to completion.

(finished books will be gone back to, expanded on. the completed grows on)

trying to both grow self-control and lose it.
hardly paradoxical, considering its plurality of off balanced milieus.

while people confuse the referrer for the referent, what's the point in using sensible language?

~~~

i'm no poet, but prose won't do it either. Been exploring a bit more, New York and Boston. Gritty naked exposed; pomp clothes sterility. Traveling i've found less care is in me to see the physically unknown. In new lands, there's greater preference for sitting indoors with a book pointing to unknowns, than spending days sightseeing. So much emphasis on that sense. Take pictures rather than leaving portions of us. Travel not pilgrimage. Golem - empty commandments.

still, explorations
i'd use words that may be familiar, though they'd be anthropomophized, memeticized - not all hackers are black hat. not all occultists are the beast. the occult is hidden because it is not properly delved into. who plays candy land with Risk rules? who knows a house not having grown up in it?

a deadly mistake is made in thinking one knows what another speaks of, without having delved into the language and mindset of the other. the external one knows it is all nonsense, and knows the one within is nonsensical - but does the outsider know the insider too may know the inherent illogic? this is not considered. it is paradoxical, unacceptable. acceptance married to paradox birth fuller bastards. diversity, truth and falsity.
knowing nothing but truth, this is standing on one leg. darkness sheds light on light.

People don't like being misunderstood, simultaneously working very little at giving proper respect to the particular vocabularies of diverse differences. aversion to diversity, diverting from wholistic expansion
too situated in the letter to be elevated by spirit. the buddha did not point at the moon to have his pointing hand be the center piece.
want to know what is meant? don't try making sense of it, meet the nonsense, the supersensible.

In plainer words: spiritual works have been occupying my time. understanding that moves beyond the strictly left-brained. let's go for more of a balance this time. the secular rationalizes away the meanings of it, yet continue to find meaning in nothing. the truth quotient is greater for the meaningless, Truth without meaning is the highest - not knowing truth within meaning is its compliment.

contemplate fnord. fnord with meaning, intent.

The vessel is untempered; is it a vessel? Time will temper it so, countless reincarnations see to this. Until it meets within and beyond itself a drop of a drop of the unnameable, it knows better - thinks it can grasp the entirety of the all within one's head - such a full thought, leaves no room for uncertainty and mystery. Surety, security.

The world makes me so sad, and I love it for this. There are things I desire sharing, that I am always sharing, but for the lack of receptivity abounding, can they be shared? There is a saying, more than the calf wants to suckle, the cow wants to nurse. Words are put out there but thought of as nonsense. I feel as if I'm circulating secrets in the open, which oscillate between being ignored, misunderstood, denigrated. Not by all, but by and large this has been my experience. The value of egoism, whether with awareness or not, is supremely dominant; egoistic acts are believed to be acts of free will, and with all the desire in the world, so little is towards overcoming this. This is the tempering of the vessel. We are at our most egoistic, and transformation is quickened, not by clinging to certainties, but by accepting possibilities no matter how impossible one tells their self they are. Things are not impossible in actuality, but in thought, which either inhibits or facilitates their occurring. This transition, to this mindset, is impossible. Certainty knows no imagination. And this is mere existence.

Recent times have been magnificent. To attempt a summarization: I'm more engaged in life, more interested in ever more things, more understanding, more accepting and coincidentally less judgmental [I've long thought/felt judge-mentality to be an affliction for lack of desire to understand (ah! a desire to misunderstand in order to be able to judge!); where one judges one does not understand situations more than one's own]; in short, more me.

"High truths cannot be learned: they can only be remembered in the Self."
'The Essence of the Bhagavad Gita, p. 121'

I now know greater direction, riding atop waves instead of struggling through and with tides; there is a path, a way, with goals that are open-ended, processual, with a particular essence (heart) present throughout (unfolding). On paths, I heard a wise man yesterday say that there are two: the path of pain (ever so popular, recognized or not), and the path of instruction by the light & also the transformation of egoistic expression into altruistic expression. The path of pain construes suffering as negative, often wrongfully inflicted, without purpose - and doing so, is inconsiderate [huh, judgment too is inconsiderate, might there be ties here?] to what it might teach. The other, the path of instruction by the light (in short..) says "oh, this suffering here, this adversity, I can be self-centered and keep my perspective that this is bad, or we can be empathetic, see its roots, its branches, take it as a blessing and a teaching."

For there are two kinds of suffering and sufferers. "Those who suffer from the superabundance of life" [... and] "Those who suffer, on the contrary, from an impoverishment of life" make intoxication a convulsion, a numbness; they make suffering a means of accusing life [...]
-Gilles Deleuze, Nietzsche & Philosophy

They say love opens a door
    from one heart to another;
But if there is no wall
    how can there be a door?
-Jalaluddin Rumi

I used to have an outright hatred for poetry, a smattering of William Blake being the exception. My sentiment was unripe, and my unfeeling logical mind too domineering. Ha! To speak of anti-authoritarianism and at the same time let mind dominate heart! Do you feel me? I'd been caught up in the reactionary game: if this one thing is evil, its opposite must be good! So many relationships go such a way, all is fine until one thing shows, and then the name must be disparaged, the whole being hated on. As some go from dating one person to another, with hardly a breath inbetween, my mind could not be without a relationship to a theory, a worldview, so something shining light on the faults of my previous one would end up speaking to me - I would, in short, adopt it: ruminate and digest it, feed off its probiotic affects, enhance my intestinal flora.

We've arranged a global civilization in which most crucial elements - transportation, communications, and all other industries; agriculture, medicine, education, entertainment, protecting the environment; and even the key democratic institution of voting - profoundly depend on science and technology. We have also arranged things so that almost no one understands science and technology. This is a prescription for disaster. We might get away with it for a while, but sooner or later this combustible mixture of ignorance and power is going to blow up in our faces.
-Carl Sagan

Agriculture & Civilization [not to be confused with culture!], being the beds of ever intensifying exploitation and earth destruction, became my enemies. In taking on a new philosophy, I never shook this determinism, existent in pretty much every secular realm of contemporary humanity, despite my opposition to particular conceptions of linearity (e.g. primitive man being ignorant/stupid/inhuman, modern man knowledgeable/smart/the height of being). Reading a single essay turned the world onto its head, and, so I thought, me onto mine. This was filling in gaps, things taking their proper place, learning of life-denying forces and becoming critical of them. In doing so, I carried on the before mentioned determinism, instead of learning the power of possibilities.