Anchored in Clever Dick’s harbour, no man’s thought can I fill
with warmth. Every answer embraced, further distanced my
heart from the nourishing brightness of deep simplicity. Then
sometimes........from nowhere....... an unidentified fragrance
.........suddenly dissolved the incessant wave-patterns of
illusion. Once more, possessed by rhythm, I felt freed from
the oppressive hell of trying to remember the gateway to the
miracle.
Whilst struggling with standards, man has become
mummified. O.K., it’s not the monuments which teach
stagnation, but the anxious search for a point of view which
can be relied upon, reflected on, impedes awakening, and
ultimately, sanctifies self-inundation in a space of infinite
shadows.
The glittering surface is sterile causing the trembling
soul to feel exiled and prone to unreal tales of home.
Weakened by malicious impostors, even a miraculous whisper of
oneness becomes a source of terror.
Yes we can live rather than guess ...... if awake to
the miraculous ......for who else lives but understanding?
It’s imagination, having moved through you, establishes this
creative point of view.
But trying to recreate that grace-filled magic of sudden
joy and lit up commonplace, manufactures endless misery. And
although with every breath, a crowd of programmes solicits
from the shadows, only total abstinence will allow one into
real openness. This is the obvious starting point. The
basic shift from an immature floundering about in the market
of psychological alternatives, to being without choice, oneself.
And, suddenly, many grasp the same implications. This light is
the atmosphere of Truth. Yes, the ground for this healthy
illumination is nothing else but plain total honesty. Who
else ever reflected the bickering despair ? In this dimension
of real individuality, we can truly meet. This peering
through tarnished inertia and the total abandonment of
captured lights has cleansed the open view. And what is seen
is not negotiable. This can not be understood by those who
have not let go their standards. Everyday is a deal to them.
Shuffling values. The obvious person nothing but perception.
What I see IS powerless. Meaning vanishes, assumed.
Be careful of orbiting round old quips which suddenly exhibit
an astonishing freshness. This means of procedure must be the
ruling theme. Understood, these common words assist in the
realization of where we stand. Being in Being, I discovered
an expanse of feelingness which had been held solid for so
long by self-defeatism. And so, having abandoned that tangle
of descriptions......... no emblems can be found of what is to
be done. Freedom. Penetration. From the rock water. From the
word pure nourishment. Anarchy. What apparent boundaries
suddenly disappear in an active space which feeds
through a new discovery in the art of listening.
Participation. That brought me very close to description. A
backward glance at the theory and there we lie.
How then to develop this noble art ? We re-examine our
inward stance and feel at once the staleness of any assumed
strength. Imagination is freed from the disease of calculating
compensations for lack of freedom. Understood, we generate
courage. In this definite communion we sharpen the edges of
our geometry. Temptations to speculate abound. Impulses from
a thousand bruises. And note this ...... after the second
real hit, the numbers in our band are reduced drastically.
The space between uncorrupted souls is stretched to ......
vanishing point ....... announcing an amazing absence of
distance. Intelligence. And these words are a way of
immediate welcome. And only now, having travelled here to
this congress, do I feel a taste of trustworthy confidence.
The exhilaration of creative truth. Nourish and be nourished.
Now. The simultaneous unfolding of hidden intentions.
Yes, awakening does ennoble, but we must avoid falling through
gulphs of self-amazement into labyrinths of detail. Quagmires
of self-importance. So, there’s danger located where it
breeds. So many years were wasted attempting to hold a truly
ridiculous posture. And I say this in the margin of social
history. Lack of insight coupled with justified inertia, led
the cowardly to a psychic paralysis, sometimes referred to as
“a terminal vacation in dehydrating forms of guess work.”
Yet rumours of real life have been noted, but imitating
speculations gave us no ability to find the entrance. It was
a case of absolute avoidance of the psychological facts.
Arrogant poses flourished, whilst remaining in the pit.
And still the mystery is abused in continuum, whilst self-
burial is proudly paraded as being worthy of respect. Almost
everything said is a form of blasphemy. Perhaps each
picture...... and some have gone that far. After all, who can
claim to be guiltless when it comes to the question of
colouration? Whilst the orchestration of light, is given
free. This understanding is the open door to real communion.
The participation which those blinded by themes ignore.
Hungering for validation of their scripts, they shamelessly
promote a desert of echoes. Agents of the robotizing virus,
these impotent vampires yearn to don their rags of judgement.
And any recoil on our part IS judgement! It is only in the
light of this clarity, we can truly feel the plain vase. We
are now seeing before the voice. Total admission. Now we can
develop our undistorted propinquity. A silent theatre of
unrepeatable operations. The space where trust is managed by
original integrity. After all, only wholeness can nourish this impetus.
Now that the belief in belief has been dissolved, we feel
astonished that we stomached slavery for so long. How
perversely we had allowed our extremities to be appropriated
by the viral machine, until we settled for calling our own
condition “other”. Suddenly awake, we are no longer the
effect of otherness. Every occurrence is intrinsic to self.
The ascent of the meaning of totality.
Be not ashamed. You will not be the first to discover
that your package contains nothing real. Nothing but
convoluted forms of complaint and pretence. How our tired
musculature needs this spring awakening. And these words -
unlike our previous obsessions-- need no scars on which to
anchor. So, in this intimacy of inner discovery, we commune.
And the details of our freedom make us laugh. What
confessions! The doubts were always rooted in undeveloped
insights. Hard to explain...... so often I have rehearsed
such explanations! If you do not understand you have not
entered the open. Then you can only imitate, that is, centre
on your guess work.
To be sure all of this is still re-tracing. Still ghost
lines. Don’t imagine who you are. All those guises are a
dying industry. When you’ve heard it said “so and so has
changed” what did you think? Have you seen someone jump to a
place you have not been? Yet. Can you embrace what you can’t
conceive? This way, we conceive our real self.
Realizing it’s so easy to betray our inner discovery, the
sentences shorten. The eye at last constructs the line.
Changes of meaning as one speaks. Intruders? From where? Or
the new line was always there. One sort of bounced against it
........and then printed it .......onto the silence. Degrees
of staleness. There’s no freshness in any explication. Take
that slowly. Into every cranny. And transcend every score.
However well it’s been orchestrated. Be truly modern in this
ancient mystery.
O this understanding feels so vast. We feel intrinsic to
Being. Intuit growth. Yes, we are allowed. And we allow.
The omnipresence really real. Yes, you are one with me
...... discovering this creative crisis ........as you
think........through .........the real question.
