Tributary’s of consciousness.
Essays, articles, compositions
The river has many parts, and all parts make up the river. All rivers flow towards the ocean. There are streams and rivulets, there are waterfalls and brooks. There is no end, this cycle of water is one of the endless.
The unsweetened holy
These figures we revere, are people, not glass figurines of virtue—they were beings that, walked through delusion, death, rage, longing. Yet what we receive through history is a polished myth—stripped of its blood, stripped of its ache, its laughter, its unbearable intimacy. We canonize transcendence, but forget the terrain from whence it rises.
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The myth of perfection
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Perfection is a hidden bondage itself
Perfection does not exist here, it is an ideal, that the human mind clings to. A cuff bolted to the past. A desire bed-ridden and mouldy, wasting away in the memory of today.
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It has to do with the way we carry stories—especially the ones we call ‘spiritual’. The way we keep repeating the names, of all those who walked into the heart - of being.
As if somehow - if we cling enough to these men in halos - we too will become those same stories, lathered in a pale coat of polish - as if it is the last word.
How over time, we’ve perfected those stories until they shine so brightly, they no longer cast the shadow of reality and block many from seeing the way of life, by scripts of undiscerning, imbalanced idealism.
We talk of enlightenment as though it’s an endpoint, a final crystallisation of the human into something flawless. But life - is not that clean. It’s not that linear. It doesn’t resolve into perfection. Not necessarily.
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Reflections on Form
That place of airy perfection is something beyond comprehension, but the texture of existence is not a mistake, it is made as a mystery. The way the body aches. The way the blood cycles. The way subtle attachments arise again, not as signs of failure, but as expressions of living.
So when I hear people speak of these great ones as if they had transcended all of this—as if they no longer touched the world, no longer bled—I wonder: is it their presence we revere, or the polished reflection of our longing cast upon them?
Human consciousness, gravitates towards the shimmer, avoiding the shadow cast by the existence of form. The shadow that always re-occurs- for in this world we will always have form. Where there is more growth in life, where our eye may come to see more, other things dim into the mystery of the unknown. For the reality is, we will in ways, always be partially blind. It is allowing the child to exist without punishing its limitations, without, whipping its cheeks, into beds of roses, when we want to rule its flaws.
We have, for so long, clung to the stories of luminousity. Some named, Others unnamed. And yet what we carry forward is not the weight of their walk, but the shine of their soles. We have preserved perfection, not presence. We have kept alive the idea of the sun within, but not the long cloud it casts on the forehead, forgotten.
The human mind, in its discomfort with complexity, seeks purity. It wants the story to be whole and unmarred. And so it edits. It simplifies. It embalms the lives of saints and sages until they resemble nothing but airbrushed myths. And yet life—life is not made of myths. It is made of contradiction. Of ache and laughter. Of formless within form returning to itself, again and again. It might be said that the point is not to ascend endlessly upward, but to descend just enough—to touch the ground, remember the weight, and still choose to walk.
To be alive is not to transcend, but to transmute. To find, even in this imperfect vessel, the breath of the eternal -
Life itself, not because it is flawless. nothing manifest is perfect by virtue of its form. That is life. That is the material existence.
So again, I wonder (about all these beings in history): is it their presence we revere, or the polished reflection of our longing cast upon them?
The past is dead. The light also a mask.
Gravity swallows light’
Instead of pulling on things directly like a magnet, gravity curves space-time itself. Stars, planets, black holes create deep ‘dents’ or curves in the fabric of space-time.
Light normally travels in straight lines. But in curved space-time, the “straightest possible path” bends. If an object is dense and massive enough - like a black hole - its gravitational curvature becomes so extreme that; all possible paths for light curves inward, there is no path out, not even light can escape. This region is called event horizon - once light crosses it, it’s lost to the outside universe.
When gravity “swallows” light, it draws even the most intangible, the purest form of energy into the unknown. This mirrors the dissolution of the visible into the invisible, the seen into the unseen.
Just as light disappears into the black holes event horizon, ego dissolves into the infinite during deep sleep or mystical experience. There is no return to prior form.
The black hole as womb:
In many cosmological and mystical traditions, darkness is not absence but potential. the black hole often imagined as death or end is also a womb like space, concealing the seeds of other universes or deeper layers of reality. accessing the self is accessing the unlimited creative potential.
This ‘Nothing’ is the bedrock of the universe.
Mind as a mirror to the cosmos, et vis-a-vis:
One could imagine the mind filled with black holes. Where memories are kept, and patterns, and imaginations. We have in our own minds, black holes the infinite as our capacity to imagine is infinite.
Dead stars collapsed. Everywhere is time and light.
We are the creator’s mind, the complete essence of creation. We are so convinced that our external universe sets the parameter for our experience, but it is only the extraversion, of the real setting of our interaction with reality: the internal solar system. The beyond-mind as the sun. It is the true central axis in which we human beings experience reality and all that is. So one could say -
The sun exists in the mind.
And with this it could be posited that with each experience, with each new memory, or dissolution of self, the space grows, becomes more, but the more is also the space of less.
On the Child and the Field of imagination
Between birth and the age of seven, the child lives in a continuum of openness—unfiltered, imaginal, immersed in theta and alpha frequencies. These are not simply developmental states; they are states of the field, neurological constellations in which the boundary between the inner and outer dissolves. Theta is the language of the dreamer and the seer, the place where form and meaning are not yet split. Alpha is the soft wave of curiosity, calm alertness. Together, they form a portal—not into naivety, but into plasticity.
Mathematically, we can think of these states as low-resistance neural vectors: the pathways of meaning are not yet calcified. The child’s mind operates like a fluid fractal—infinitely folding experience into symbol, body into image, sound into pattern. And so, trauma at this stage becomes a kind of fixed equation—a variable frozen before its expansion. A false constant imposed too early. And the mind can become looped in a sequence that patterns the movement of that child, that set the child up with various mis-guided messages, about who they are, and what value they have here.
To heal is not merely to process but to re-enter the field—to return the mind to its imaginal flexibility, to allow the body to reconfigure the posture it learned in defense. Meditation, hypnosis, and deep trance states allow the adult to re-enter theta—not as child, but as one who holds the child. This is not regression; it is retrieval. To enter the open field again but with a guide and map.
The Taoist sage Laozi speaks of this paradox when he writes: “Know the strength of man, but keep a woman’s care. Be the stream of the universe! Being the stream of the universe, ever true and unswerving, become as a little child once more.”
Here, the return to the child is not a loss of wisdom, but its deepest embodiment. In yogic texts too, the balak bhava (the state of the divine child) is the root of yogic joy—where innocence is not weakness, but unbounded presence.
The Western psyche, conditioned toward the linear, resists this return. But trauma, too, is a loop—a recursive algorithm looping through the nervous system. And so, healing is not linear; it is a return, a spiral inward to re-encode the early fractal with coherence.
To imagine is not to escape—it is to re-open the matrix.
To feel is not to drown—it is to rehydrate the calcified belief.
To return is not to lose the self—it is to release the mask.
This is how the mind, made flexible again, remembers its original equation.
The child is not the past—it is the undivided field before the first split.
The Solar Mind: Language as a Portal of direct Perception and experience
Language is not merely a tool for communication—it is a system of encoding consciousness. When mind and body enter a state of heightened receptivity, words no longer function as symbols pointing to things. They begin to function as portals—vectors through which new configurations of reality are perceived, and in some cases, instantiated.
This is not mystical suggestion—it aligns with the principles observed in quantum mechanics, where the act of observation influences the state of the system. This is known as the “observer effect”. It challenges the nature of objective measurement and questions prescriptive interpretations of reality that do not consider how subjective observation forms the experience of being. Conscious attention, especially when unfragmented, plays an active role in the outcome of events. Language, then, becomes the structure through which attention is shaped and focused. It forms the latticework of cognition, perception, and even identity.
In certain states—where internal resistance is reduced and the nervous system is regulated—a phrase or idea can collapse the ambiguity of potential realities into a coherent perceptual experience. This mirrors the quantum principle of wavefunction collapse: where multiple probabilities exist until one is observed. The difference is, in human consciousness, it is language that often determines what is observed.
This state of mind—lucid, ungrasping, quietly alert—has historically been referred to in metaphysical traditions as the Solar Mind. Not because it implies celestial or divine origins, but because of its clarity. The Solar Mind does not analyze—it illuminates. In such a state, perception aligns so precisely with structure that meaning is not constructed; it is revealed. Language does not explain—it discloses.
In this way, words can become instruments of causality. Their impact is not emotional or poetic but architectural. They change the architecture of one’s inner field. And when that field shifts, perception itself re-organizes.
What we think of as the external world—the solar system, the play of orbiting bodies and radiant centers—is a macroscopic reflection of a deeper, interior structure. Our nervous system, our electromagnetic field, even our psychological patterns mirror the logic of the cosmos. The sun is not simply a star—it is the image of central coherence, a symbol for the organizing intelligence at the core of our cognitive field. When someone says, “the sun exists in the mind,” it is not metaphor. It is structure.
When language meets consciousness in the right frequency—where clarity, curiosity, and somatic regulation converge—a shift occurs. What seemed symbolic becomes structural. What seemed poetic becomes functional.
This is the physics of insight. The grammar of perception. The interior architecture of realities external incarnation.
With language, and enough flexibility, one can come to embody a different reality. This is the power of the mind / the beyond mind. This is where creation and creator meet. And past a point all is a matter of creation, one has to simply think, and one becomes.
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The Mind as Puzzle: Language, Thought, and unlocking life’s deluge
To think is not always to be. The presence of thought is not synonymous with the presence of truth. In fact, thought is often a disruption—a signal that something is obscured, not yet resolved, awaiting coherence. It appears not as the finality of understanding, but as the residue of a structure seeking resolution.
The mind in this light is a puzzle. A multidimensional riddle, formed of memory, experience, language, and assumption. Each thought—especially those that loop or press—is a cipher: a pattern pointing toward some yet-unrealised alignment between self and reality. It is not that thought is always necessary, but that when it arises persistently, it marks an internal structure still incomplete.
Language becomes the working tool of this puzzle. Not merely a mode of description, but an apparatus for synthesis—for unlocking. The right phrase, the right symbolic mapping, the right logical formulation can act as a key. It shifts something internal. And when that piece falls into place—whether emotionally, intellectually, or energetically—a passage opens.
This is what it means to solve a layer of the mind’s puzzle: not to conquer the intellect, but to bring it into alignment with the deeper intelligence of self. Once resolved, thought no longer dominates. The system quiets. The flow resumes.
We do not need thought to be—awareness exists prior to the conglomeration of past impressions. But while the puzzle remains, thought insists. It offers signs, symbols, irritations—each one a prompt toward a higher internal order. To ignore it is to delay coherence. To engage it wisely is to collaborate with the architecture of the self’s becoming.
And with each unlocking, each piece resolved, a new level of being becomes accessible. Reality shifts. Not outwardly at first, but in the dimensional quality of perception. The nervous system harmonizes. Language refines. The presence deepens. In this way, thought is not the enemy of presence—but the last guardian standing between the self and its next expression of truth.
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The Nervous System as the central axis
The nervous system is the solar system turned inward. A blazing sun of awareness at the centre, and all else orbiting—electrical, magnetic, pulsing in patterned spirals. The spine, our central axis, is the standing staff of light, the meru danda, the tree of worlds. It is not just a pillar of bone but a transmitter of frequencies, an antenna that catches the messages from all the unseen spheres.
In yoga, we speak of sushumna, the subtle channel running through the spinal column. Around it spiral ida and pingala, lunar and solar, feminine and masculine. These are not only energetic rivers, but orbital paths—planets around a sun, thought around pure awareness. Each breath, a gravitational wave. Each nerve impulse, a comet of intention passing through the constellation of thought and feeling.
On an anatomical level, the central nervous system transmits bioelectric signals with near-light speed precision. These neural signals resemble electromagnetic waveforms—each synapse firing like a star burst, emitting microvolts of intelligence. In yogic terms, this is prana, the life-force current, which animates both body and cosmos. The spinal column, lined with cerebrospinal fluid, is not just biological—it is conductive. Like the void in which the planets spin, it is a medium of transmission, memory, and emergence.
The chakras themselves can be mapped like planetary spheres. They are described as ‘spinning discs’. And though the use of words trivialises the embodiment of the term, one can see - again - how the inner world mirrors the outer landscape.
In mathematical terms, both systems show fractal recursion—self-similar patterns across scales. The Fibonacci sequence, sacred geometry, and golden ratios appear in the branching of neurons and the orbital distances of celestial bodies. Both systems rely on resonance. The Schumann resonance of the Earth (7.83 Hz) mirrors the alpha wave state of human relaxation. The sun’s solar flares affect human circadian rhythms and heart coherence.
Yoga describes the body as koshas, sheaths or layers—annamaya (physical), pranamaya (energy), manomaya (mind), vijnanamaya (intellect), and anandamaya (bliss). These layers are interwoven, just as gravitational, electromagnetic, and nuclear forces interact in cosmological models. When we sit in deep meditation, we align the inner planets. The breath becomes orbit, the spine becomes solar mast, and the mind quiets into orbital stillness. This is samadhi—when the nervous system attunes to the cosmic rhythm.
The yogic body is not limited to form. It extends into the etheric. As in space, silence is not empty. It is saturated with subtle signals. The yogis knew this. They did not separate anatomy from astrology, physiology from philosophy. To them, the central axis was both tree and tower—axis mundi—a channel through which the universal energies descend and rise. In the kundalini, they described the latent energy, coiled like a serpent at the base of the spine, which when awakened, pierces the planetary chakras and blossoms into full solar awareness at the crown.
Thus, the nervous system is the solar system. Not as metaphor, but as hologram. One is nested in the other. When we quiet the fluctuations of the mind (yoga chitta vritti nirodha), we find that the body becomes observatory, and the seer becomes the seen. The orbit becomes the inward spiral, and we trace the curve of our own breath back to its stellar source.
Beyond good and evil - Response to Nietzsche
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All magic, all mystery is created. It is its greatest asset and its furthest limitation.
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The mind is a funny thing, you start to see how you become the things you read. If flexible enough. How easily ideas are planted. To engage truly. But with distance. All things ingested, a test to one’s own solidity. one’s own truth. How the mind will pick things as it believes it relates to itself, to its own sense of self, and truth and ego and mind. Fickle thing. Therefore it really must go beyond it.
It is the case, that truth is delivered much more simply and with more lightness. There is many eternal idea in this text, yet the text itself is hardly eternal. And much is delivered just as an idea. For it is pre-occupied more with shooting down ‘the unworthy truths’ of others than appealing to the essence of what might be its aspiring essential; A self unconcerned with the other. Its rhetoric is rather abrasive to the eyes, though the eyes can be deceptive. The tone is harsh and cruel to bare, but misdirected to a modern reader, as he tongues his present historical and ancient peers.
The words used here, are shaped by the text just read. of course one cannot help but be continually conditioned by what is staring them directly in the face. Yet in all it’s un-conditioning. Perhaps it is that the text is still conditioned. Still obscured and obsessed by its own intellectualisation. And therefore limited by its own mind and thinking.
I’m surprised by the bravery of this character. The writer feels, the dead eyes in its living fingertips.
yet my opinion wastes away as thin water out of open mouth, and as gawping dead fish out of bucket.
Yet what he speaks contains many yawning profundity’s. The ending: a delight. A writer of sorcery, a clear wizard and warlock. A Merlin of concept and cleverness. ‘necessity and freedom of will’, as they relate to an artist; the same. Indeed, For it is when one is stripped completely, that one comes to realise the mechanism in which one makes one do absolutely anything. And when one is being driven by the essence of life itself, one comes to realise that, there is not much needed to do to engage and explore the beauties of the life. beauty becomes, in the acts of life’s simplicity, and in the daily breath beneath our trodden soles. We need not do very much more than truly live, for life to reveal its sempiternal smothering, and nightly nurturing hand, in our waking and sleeping.
How wonderful the use of words. How artistic the tales. How highly inspired, divine. Yet a torn master it would seem sits behind the words displayed. A mystic and a thinker. A duality hard to contain. A polarity, that surely would eat alive the double headed serpent that wastes away at the bottom of this unworked maze.
Again I lift the eyebrows at what is expressed. Who is it that cares to know? That cares to see? That takes pre-occupation with something left dribbling in the past? Given to me.
Moreover, simply it is life itself, in the words, evolving,
that ripples in its evolutionary and advancing state. So opposes perhaps the drifting away, from something that might in fact be more singular, though indeed a daring and unbelievable paradox. All shifts, all perspectives, all sense of words and self can be directed to the same essential ‘self’ or ‘no-self’. all difference dissolves, beyond the limitations of the intellectual framework. it need not be saintly, but it need not be antagonistic either. For antagonism lies beneath the so called ‘beyond’ and beyond-er.
Perspective whithers behind the gates of these labyrinth walls. The abyss that takes all holds, wets and dries them as figs under hot and drooling sun. Simplicity is the unmasked. The unmasked is simplicity.
Though one can engage in such mouth battling, one may ask, is this truth not beyond such a battle? And ones pre-occupation with desire is just affirming an attachment, of that which one is not.
Perhaps it is beyond good, perhaps it is beyond bad. Perhaps it is beyond absolutely nothing. Perhaps it is this nothing itself. What is it that is trying to go ‘beyond’, is this not also a pre-occupation of man’s mind and it’s desire for more than a beating heart.
The ‘beyond-ness’ has no such involvement. Merely one could read this text and that, as flippantly as one reads a bed time story. For this one eye, the translucent body, of neutral ecstasy, sees one and the same. And it Cannot also be challenged by the limitations of the human consciousness. The human mind. And so be it. It glazes over, side-eyeing the feathery phrases, becomes absorbed for a second, then continues on its distant way, absorbed in its own gathering and the orgasm of its own making. Much less concerned with the lesser human perspective of its own mastery and unadorned under-taking.
Life.
still at the end of it, the momentarily engaged is reminded of how much energy is needed to peruse such opinion. Was it not that the writer speaks of conservation? Energy is limited. As is the life. What use is there to engage so effervescently in opinion, other than to retort with humour, and delight upon realising one’s own perspective. Then realising more deeply how transient and irrelevant in this scheme of life’s unending game and horseplay, one’s perspective really is. And so - and until - one becomes the river.
Indeed there exists many dark bodies close to the sun. Morality; a farcical parade pleased by its own righteousness. But is it not that at the very centre, the basic code is formed and forged upon the spirit of love, and from this, does one not intuitively ‘know’ how to act, as if life itself impels a certain action upon its will? The sun. Beyond the layers. Beyond the masks. most and truest to itself in the present. and in this, before the beyond, and in the realm of matter in which we exist, is it not that there are somethings at least, more fitting to the finer perspective? Where in thought word and deed alignment, life unravels it’s beauty to its greatest extent? Though we need not declare them ‘rights or wrongs’.
To deny the sun’s illumination, would be to misunderstand the epitomal workings of this blessed, brilliant, and unbounded artist. Creator. to deny the obvious reason, that human beings have sight beyond the eyes, Would be a great deception. That we too are able to indulge in a perspective that sees all good and bad as one, is the essential point. For some. Though indeed it is not the destiny for all. Some still like to remain in the dark. And perceive the dark as such. But, and therefore, for those that seek to go beyond, is this creation not something akin to a mathematical code with some quintessential order, a motion moving forward that seeks to meet itself in our many forms.
A beauty that evolves to indulge in its own
simple, yet, (to its perceiver) absolutely exquisite desire to be alive. Beyond the I.
Perhaps in the morning it will have a coffee with a slice of cheesecake.
Now The speaker has indulged the mind.
And the truth remains. What reads and what is read is the same.
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Truth is a many splendid web, woven with delight and intricacy. At best it cannot be described. It is the most unworkable paradox. That sleeps soundly, above and beneath the word.
For -
The eagle does not know that all the other birds envy it.
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Vicade of Spirit
We look for a certain image when we look for the ‘spiritual’. A softness in tone, a lightness in eyes, robes maybe, hands folded - just so. We look for quiet, an air of peace, a curated detachment. But this is performance—at least when clung to. This is surface. We are surprised to be met, with daring honesty, brutal detachment to recognition. Surprised to be met with something utterly human.
True spirituality is not an aesthetic. It is not found in the appearance of stillness, not in the white dalmatic, clothed upon the shoulders of the taught. But in the clarity of the real, beneath it. To associate spirit with a look, a gesture, a costume of virtue, is to miss the depth of what the formless actually is. Still it is trying to be something, other than the thing it is. The formless does not present itself in a single shape. The unbounded is not tied or catering to style.
One may carry the scent of spirit in silence or in song, in chaos or in calm. I was once told the masculine aspect is; still, the feminine is moving. Still in this realm, where it is that form dissipates, still we have only been revealed the masculine. How the feminine takes form; how one can crawl the earth on all fours, is a half of the same principle.
Attachment to any particular form of the spiritual is still attachment. The mind wants a sign, a symbol to lean on, a hierarchy, an end point. But clarity doesn’t cling. Clarity doesn’t decorate itself to be believed. In fact, it becomes increasingly indifferent to being understood.
So yes, in appearance, one could look like anything. Spirit can wear sneakers. A tight vest. It can wear a business suit. It can wear silence. But it always asks the same thing of us: to read beneath the surface. Not in the way it appears but in the way it ‘is’.
In many traditions, upon discovery or dedication to the path of freedom, unveiling material reality as ‘illusion’, we lock away the child, and strip it of it’s play.
The monks costume is still a costume, still a symbol, a decoration of identity. It has the marking of something deeper, more meaningful. But, still, it is a costume, to market the unmarketable.
If spirit must take a form, let it take any form. We are here to create not to conform. Let it be free. Let the child dance in coloured fabrics. Let it be.
I Claim to be nothing but human.
I do not love blindly.
a perspective came.
I do not love blindly.
I love where true love is existing.
Beyond that, we can leave the rest to the darkness. And what is true love?
True love is total clarity. Total awareness. Nothing else. Total reception to other. Bare in mind if one perceives of themselves as having total awareness, then it is most likely the case that this is not the case.!
If it is not total awareness to the extent possible, and complete.
it is not love. Love is felt. It is a frequency, it is energy. Saying I love you carrying the energy of power, is a deception. Let us be clear in our intention when we say I love you. Because we can love, but our words can be deceiving.
Is it not more in the way one is able to be received? This is love.
at this present moment, I am not interested and indeed mildly irritated, in spiritual deception, unseeing, and projection. Under certain pretences of ‘love and light’, self-indulgent feeling and sharing. I am not interested in seeing untruthfulness, and the hurt of others just in order to indulge in one’s own spiritual pleasure and affirmed ‘detachment’ and ‘knowing’. Curtained and coated in a kind of supremacy. Which is more accurately not true detachment but indifference to the self that is all things.
It is a poisonous mask of separation. Dirtier than plain ignorance for it poses as correctness, and rides on the pleasure of its own deception. I will add also, these masks are incredibly subtle. But are devoid of true compassion, and are buried in such sterile superficiality, so as to avoid what really lurks beneath their faculty.
Indeed a deep meandering and misunderstanding of the divine game. It can be such confusion at times how people speak the same words, yet how polar the expressions might actually be. Watch the indulgence. Trust the vibration, trust the frequency. words are the deception. The truth is beyond this. The dark Ha ha! We must laugh . it is not them. Let the pretence lose its sway. Do not buy into the game. suspend the acting and walk away. Do not fall into its stagnant homeostasis. Don’t let the child get caught in a mask even of truth or of a ‘path’. Pretences of awareness and seeing. More false than falsity. Apologies if this is sharp. I do not know much, but here I am very clear. At the essence there is love of course, but at times there are many things lying on top unwilling to be seen. Projection is a way one can avoid looking at their own shadow. If one seeks to continually tell, confine, dictate who all others are, see first that they have knelt before their own, darkness. “That they have knelt before the alter of their own shadow”. Blatant Ignorance is easier, but when it comes to spiritual deception, emotional sway, manipulation, one can hide behind language, and energy to justify any means. Indeed there is a difference between sorcery and true spiritual power. Generally, those that project, those that tell, perceive of something in another, it is existing within them. Perception is everything, what you perceive is what you are. Is what is existing within you. so if one perceives of jealousy, undoubtedly, it is jealousy existing in them. General rule. Okay so total clarity is the exception, but total clarity is rare. That is the true awareness, and the true awareness does not need to tell. at least with any sense of self- importance.
The difficulty is one can remain rather blissfully unaware of these subtleties, given vital power gives a feeling of goodness, of rightness. Watch for the sorriness arriving in the eye, when you remain plain, upon receiving an overwhelm of love coveted in pretendness. You must ask, what is the over compensation for? What image is being sustained. notorious work of the shadow. By the way i am not particularly interested even in my own perspective about this, for a long time i have felt rather uninterested in the shadow. but as life would have it, it is a necessary walk through the mud, into clarity and greater freedom. but i bore even at my own projections. ooh! the being has a perspective! yes indeed.
Ha ha! Laugh again.
One seeks to gain, the other seeks to give. At this moment in time, there is something in this being that feels deeply repelled, by spiritual self indulgence, there is a hiding behind what one might perceive of freedom, but in reality they cling to another self-image. A self image that puts them over the other, and is suspended and justified, because for them there is ‘no feeling’. They just ‘love you’ and see ‘the infinite’. When someone expresses a feeling, They might say things like, “Is the hurt that I caused not a problem with your own peace, or your monkey mind? Is this really seeing with the heart?” When people say things like this to you, laugh in their face. Ha ha! This is spiritual deception. It can speak slowly and slyly, it can also speak in many tongues, ums and errs with closed eyes, indulgently pondering on its own perspective. Truth is much more simple, more direct, not so attached to itself. Of course it is unconscious, so these beings are not aware. Have compassion. But do not let it slip past you. The unconsciousness without realising it, will use any narrative to pursuade you of its own story. It is easy to catch, notice they will not hear anything apart from your own admittance that you might be in the wrong. Or perhaps they will find something that tells you that you’re not giving them enough attention to their self-ordained existence. The role they have set for you in this life, you are not playing to? How dare you! Fool! This is just a lack of clarity. For the dark, gets lost in true expression, its rawness stullifies. They might use this openness to pursuade you of their own narrative of your feeling. Blinded by their own perception of you. The unconscious is not able to see beyond this.
recently i found out and In very simple terms this is called, gaslighting. i thought, oh wow that is quite funny. i know of this word from the past, and now i feel like a teenager. This is not true detachment. This is not true freedom. In fact quite the opposite. Notice how they are attached to the image of themselves and of you? and their subtle position over you. It helps maintain a comfortable self-image. When this becomes clear, Do not feed into the indulgence. Let it be. See it for what it is. If they come to you to speak eyes closed, wearing a mask of seriousness, to disclose their oh so important perspective of you, see that what sits behind the eyes is a deep gloom that they themselves have not yet penetrated. They lay in the mind, still. If one cannot deliver, a truth with their eyes open, it is not you they speak to but their own vanity and self-admiration.
Oh what horse play. yes this game is divine and play, yet what piece are you? Do you play for the dark or the light? And if you claim to be aware or indeed ‘spiritual’ and yet leave shadows lurking - know that you are still a player for the dark no matter how much you claim the latter. Though indeed form always casts a shadow. what makes it more convoluted is the hypocritical claim that you bat for the team of the light. Or that you have merely accepted the dark as part of the awareness! Let’s be clear this is not actual awareness, this is half seeing, half light. Ooh! Even more tricky than the dark. The bible warns I have been told ‘beware (the most) of half truths’. For this shadow that likes to tango poses well, has a nice dance, and a tick in the eye, but notice how this eye is always seeking to find something, something it can play into their narrative. This is power prancing on a stage of their own delight. Do not become a pawn of their tragedy.
Watch where love and light become the greatest deception. we trick ourselves, into thinking we must always hold a perspective that holds all in wholeness or in light. This is not the case with truth. Or a reality that is indeed more complex than washed out ideals or stories of oneness. At times truth is cutting. Albeit human. indeed must be, to discern what is true and what is false. Particularly To cut the very subtle spiritual masks that hang elusively like empty paintings on stripped of colour walls. We must explain in words to some, yet those who do not comprehend, will not comprehend. They will tell but never listen. For their walls are too high. They speak from behind the cover of their own self-made temple.
And in their incomprehension they will call out, “mask”! Yet the opposite is true. If they judge or assess you based on your lack of receptivity to them, know that this is also subtle power play. Those that wish the other to receive them? Who is it that wishes to be received? True Resonance need not speak, need not expect. When one is truly learning, truly awake, narratives will become different, not the same self important, diversion into truth frameworks. Watch how the same story plays out. “This is fear” “this is love”, “what about the heart”. They might also say “this might be a difficult truth to hear”, as if their truth is gospel. Yet it is a truth that is only theirs and in reality is little importance to any other. Oh what lack of understanding! Oh misere! Keep your projections to yourself dear creatures. Read the body, read beyond.
Consciousness is fresh. Awareness is alive. Always new. Not stuck in spiritual ideals. It is raw in its presence. It is open eyed not dwelling on its own experience of sharing, as if that item is god and gold. It is emotion. It is felt, it moves in water.
Do not trust the words! Watch them fall past your ears and defrost! listen to what goes on beyond that. what weight does the baggage bring? What does the body feel?
All is told in presence, in paradox, both total Continuity and erratic playfulness. When someone announces themself with a certain seriousness, we must again - laugh! Perhaps Inside. Perhaps within. Perhaps without.
Those self ordained, bow before the truly free!
And those in their company, Do not respond, the mind wants response, the shadow wants to play. It is not the case that all things must be continually held in light. For in this realm of matter, where the body is submerged, we are submarines wading through deeper waters. Watch spiritual energy for it fluctuates. Awareness holds itself in a continuity. It is beyond the act. Even beyond the play. If one dips and dives, and is changeable on this disposition, see the attachment. See the confusion, the doubt in the dark. If one is unable to see, allow the inability. You cannot expect what is not existing. See your attachment to this expectation also. Allow the misunderstanding. Let the truths part, for some notes jar, they do not go.
True awareness dissolves hurt, naturally it dissolves. True Awareness means you become the intervener, between the light and dark, in some way you have the choice. perhaps it is even worse that with this power of choice, still one chooses to linger in the realms of the unconscious.
When one is truly aware one cannot hurt, one does not seek to wield power over the other. So if you enter this space, and you enter doubt or confusion, this is not a being emanating unconditional love, but one unable to see themself clearly. Laugh at the game. Laugh at the image they hold of themselves. this has been the ultimate mistranslation of religion for millenia, the mind grasps onto another hierarchy professing something it has learnt, a framework of love and fear, but that is not actually existing within. People it is not personal, we humans are faulty to the core. Here is my own expression of human entanglement. but i sit, in mild delusionment at such mistruths!
More often than not those with pointed fingers might seek to tell you who you are, and confine you to a truth they have found for themselves, unwilling to see from a point beyond this framework. therefore unwilling to listen. don’t get caught up in the game. One can only see as far as they can see themselves. Trust presence, trust love, trust receptivity, trust feeling. Bin the rest. Bin self indulgence. Come into true communion. Real love is felt. Doesn’t hide behind words, and their own self-knowing. Real love is soft, easy. Ego loves the friction, loves the game. Loves the power. Loves itself beyond the other.
indeed, you might ask “what to do”, with some lightest, and turn away.
Emptiness welcomes all things, it does not deny the other on the grounds that it itself does not have the same feeling. We might ask, Where is the unity here? But yes you see, it all comes from an unmet expectation, so we can see this clearly also.
if one speaks clearly in silence and the other expects the mind game, here creatures, you are just speaking different languages. Truth is much more direct, though ever so subtle, beware the spiritual. Beware of ones performative mystery, those that move with slowness, leaving the room empty. Ordaining you with their own perspective.
i am fierce here, i feel, but really these spiritual masks are quite daring and damaging! who ordained you with the role to tell another who and what they are at least with such self-righteousness.
Do not argue with the child-mind that will remain confused and in the dark. Let it go. And see your own attachment to it. You can take it away from them also, see the children at play. See the dance, between the interplay of forces. It is not them but ignorance. it is not you but your lingering expectation and attachment. oh to be human.
Thank these people for the lesson that lurks in the mud. Thank them for showing you discernment. Thank them for showing your soul where you are not yet free. Where your soul does not resonate. Notice your own play in deception, And with gratitude, bow out. Let the self slip away in silence.
Do not waste too much time explaining to abject incomprehension. Do not remain, in the stain of falsehood for it will start to imprint on your subtle being. Laugh and move. For the child can only listen to the extent that they can hear. Take space, Cut and run, you are the mud and the sun. ;)
——————-Beautiful minds———————-
Do not feed the shadow, do not fall into petty games. Laugh at all those that impose themselves on you, for they are in hiding, thinking they are free.
Do not remain with the mirrors of the dark, they will start to convince you that you are them. Be gone! Leave the cage behind!
No more holy excuses!
Beware the mask of “freedom”.
Delusion.
cheek
Quantum Mechanics, and TRUTH
✦ Simple Explanation of the Theory (Step-by-Step)
1. Everything physical is made of atoms.
• Air = atoms (mostly nitrogen and oxygen)
• Water = atoms (H₂O molecules: hydrogen and oxygen)
• Your body, the stars, a stone — all made of atoms
2. Atoms are made of subatomic particles.
• Atoms = electrons, protons, neutrons
3. Subatomic particles are not solid “things.”
• They are mostly empty space.
• And their behavior is described by quantum mechanics.
4. At the quantum level, matter and energy are the same.
• Electrons and photons (light particles) can act as both particles and waves.
• This means: what we see as “solid” is actually energy patterns, behaving in mysterious, probabilistic ways.
5. Everything is interconnected.
• Quantum entanglement shows that particles can be connected across space — change one, and the other responds instantly.
• So, separation is an illusion at this level.
⸻
✦ The Profound Truth
At the quantum level:
• The distinctions between “air,” “water,” “person,” and “object” dissolve.
• All of it is vibrating energy fields in a unified field.
• The form is different, but the essence is the same.
⸻
✦ Oppenheimer’s Insight
Oppenheimer, after witnessing the atomic bomb and its release of energy from matter, famously quoted the Bhagavad Gita:
“Now I am become Death, the destroyer of worlds.”
This was not just drama — he understood that matter is condensed energy.
The same force that binds the cosmos, binds us.
And it can be released in terrible or beautiful ways.
Level 1: Form
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[ Tree ] [ Person ] [ Water ] [ Air ]
Level 2: Molecules
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[ H₂O ] [ CO₂ ] [ Proteins ] etc.
Level 3: Atoms
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[ Oxygen ] [ Hydrogen ] [ Carbon ]
Level 4: Subatomic Particles
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[ Electrons ] [ Protons ] [ Neutrons ]
Level 5: Quantum Fields / Energy
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Unified Field — vibrating patterns of energy — All One