the dharma order of images rolling across the scene like a storm cloud passing flashing thundering. in the space of thought walks the dada-ananda (deliberate irrationality - bliss) shining through every mind that does not set itself to make efforts to impede this occurring. what dark fortified vault the rationalogic mind hides itself inside gazing out at the world through thin slits and barred windows or surveillance systems designed to perceive into the subtlest ranges of the various spectrums down to the sub-atomic level but do not see a thing of this. those who rule themselves by strict totalitarian intolerance, who organize their minds along lines of a police state with lists of thoughts considered subversive and dangerous to the reasonable mind. we could pity them but what use is our pity? it does not free them.
    and we see these ones everywhere on all levels and in every sector of society - even among those who consider themselves outside the limits of society but who still hold to society's way of thinking and thought control. these chained by the leash of rationalogic wearing a path around in a circle marking the extent to which they are willing to think and reason. the city is filled with barking dogs brave behind fences that keeps them in and us out. why should we wish to trespass into their territory of their limited and guarded perception? is there anything they possess that we might desire? - though it actually possesses them such that they spend all of their time and effort caring for it and protecting it. should we envy those who hold tightly onto a basket of fruit when we have run of the whole orchard? what they discard from their small worlds is all ours.
    this is the way of the dada-ananda. this is the way we of doubtfully follow - or does the dada-ananda follow us? along these intertwining paths which way is what and what way is which is not easy to determine. what is it to determine something from something other?
    this activity leads itself around in circles of confusion overlapping and entering other dimensions of thought breaking free of definitions. that is where the rationalogic mind cannot go. it exists solely on definitions. without them it is lost. we are lost as we are content to giggle and dance among ourselves beyond the reach of where we can be found by the rationalogic mind.
    the dada-ananda is not perceived. the dada-ananda is perception. it is by the deliberate irrationality (dada) of perception that one experiences bliss (ananda). rationality of perception cannot do this - arrive at bliss. what happiness rational perception might attain is, by its own definition, limited and finite. logic is a separate issue and concern. logic is a step by step process that can be either based on rationality or irrationality. simply put, one can count by a finite and limited set of numbers or one can count by an infinite and unlimited set of numbers beyond and between the rational numbers. the process of counting (logic) is the same for each. it is what is counted that is different. the logic of rationality and rational thought will always be limited and finite. the logic of irrationality and irrational thought will be unlimited and infinite. this is what we refer to in calling each rationalogic thought and irrationalogic thought. both are logical, however irrationalogic arrives at unlimited and infinite possibilities of answers and conclusions. it also is not concerned that these answers and conclusions may contradict each other and not make sense - rationalogically. as well it does not concern itself with proof for anything it might arrive at. basically irrationalogic says that if it can be imagined then it is true. rationalogic can only follow one path, the rational path where everything must be proven before it is believed. irrationalogic can follow and damn path it wants - including the rational path. irrationalogic does not say rationalogic or its conclusions are wrong or false whereas rationalogic does say this about irrationalogic. irrationalogic says only that rationalogic isn't all that is right and true. and which of these is able to arrive everywhere there is at any and all time that there is? which would one suppose?
    if rationalogic arrives at bliss, which it may be able to do, that bliss will be limited and finite. rationalogic will say that bliss exists at such and such a point under such and such conditions. and it will rationalogically prove this. irrationalogic will say that bliss exists anywhere it wants it to exist. and it won't have to prove it. it just imagines and experiences it. more often rationalogic says that bliss does not exist - or cannot exist for everyone at all times. rationalogic usually settles for rational happiness. and happiness, like a candle, can give comfort to those finding themselves in darkness, but how much better would it be to be in the blazing sun of bliss out in an open meadow or on a beach or filtering through the forest canopy? who then would need to fear that candle blowing out or burning down and leaving one is total darkness?
    how shallow is ratioanlogical happiness. it is a bucket of water taken from the sea. it is the same substance but in such a small amount. who goes to the ocean to then fill a wading pool and be content to lay and splash around in that while the ocean waves roll in nearby? rationalogic is a ship tied to a dock and people on it pretending they are sailing. or one pretending one is driving a car parked in a driveway. or flying a plane sitting in a hanger. rationalogic perceives what is but does not experience what is. that is because rationalogic is divided and apart both from what is external from itself and from what is internal within itself. rationalogic cannot get there from here. rationalogic cannot even entirely convince itself that it is here.
    rationalogic looks for beginning - and only one beginning - where there is none or there is many. rationalogic looks for ending - and only one ending - where there is none or there is many. without this one beginning and one ending and, of course, one middle, rationalogic breaks down. it perceives only what it calls absurd. it calls absurd the unlimited and infinite expanse of irrationality that irrationalogic perceives and experiences.  irrationalogic does not need beginning or ending. it does not need the black lines rationalogic uses to define things separate from one another. it can devise beginning and ending as it might wish or not wish or find useful at anywhere at anytime - or many wheres and many times. it knows that these beginnings and endings are only tools of perception and do not really exist except in the mind.
    irrationalogic does not need to deny the rationalogic as rationalogic needs to deny the irrationalogic. irrationalogic includes the rationalogic into itself while the rationalogic excludes the irrationalogic apart from itself and calls it names and sometimes throws sticks and stones at it and even worse. irrationalogic has never burned anyone at the stake. rationalogic is a pig content to wallow in the mud where it rationally belongs. irrationalogic is a pig with wings wallowing in the clouds where it can only irrationally get to. there exists no line between irrationalogic and rationalogic. the two are not separate things or ways of thinking. only rationalogic will say that they are. but what does it know? the infinite is not separate from the finite. the finite is included within the infinite.
    there are those among us who proclaim that they follow the irrational to the exclusion of the rational. these are to be doubted. if one divides the irrational from the rational one can only do so rationalogically. rationalogic is that which divides, not irrationalogic. dividing the irrational from the rational is a rationalogical act. those who do so are merely the irrational rationalists following a rationalogical path into irrationality and as one cannot rationally arrive at the irrational they are doomed to fail. to arrive at the irrational one merely has to say, here i am.
    so in this the dada-ananda dances in the field of flags victorious over all the others because the dada-ananda refused to participate in this war of mutual and self destruction. yet this is not any particular moment. when does this war ever end? it is a moment that is any moment now. and when is it not now? so can this be said to be victory when there is no victory? can it be said to be defeat when there is no defeat? the war only continues as the dada-ananda dances in the field of flags neither victorious nor defeated. that is the victory/defeat.
    the dada-ananda is sitting beneath the tree which is in the midst of the garden. the dada-ananda gazes at the reflection of the dada-ananda in a pool. the dada-ananda sees everything. it is here that one may be held and hold oneself for all the eternity of a moment.
    i am this.
    i am that.
    do we take on an image of being this or that and move among those who move in the world? do we go speak with them and tell them of our joy while listening to them tell us of their sorrow? what of ourselves can be transferred into the world of tangible reality - rationalogical reality? what of ourselves remains behind? who are we?
    what questions might be asked? what questions might be answered? do questions need answers? do answers need questions?
    a horrible scream of joyful laughter chokes in our throat. we gaze amazed and speechless. a man sits in a cafe and writes this out for us. we possess him. he possesses us. he sits and drinks coffee and smokes cigarettes. do we imagine him? or does he imagine us? are we one or are we legion?
    imagine being cast into the bodies of pigs and driven into the sea. imagine having returned after a long long time within the chaos of being. imagine waiting for the one who acted so against us to return. imagine waiting on this stage where the play is to be performed of this one's return radiant in power and glory to claim his throne and once more casting us out, this time into a bottomless pit falling forever with no earth to land on.
    can we turn from this? can we exchange our costumes and scripts for a different role to play? who would then be chosen to play our part? our part must be played. if our part is not played then what is the point of the play itself and his returning? who needs a hero if there are no villains? that is our part - or someone's part. do we save ourselves and sacrifice someone else? do we secretly report someone else's name to the police? are they not just as guilty? who does that not include?
    but isn't that where this play began? hasn't it always been it wasn't me it was someone else? do we do that now? do we plead for forgiveness and point our fingers at someone else? do we turn the rats chewing through our mind toward that other even if it is our most beloved friend and lover we have vowed to hold above all others as winston did to julia in 1984? and if we did this, who would be foolish enough to trust us ever again? certainly not the one who was betrayed.
    so is our hero such a fool? does our hero protect the selfish and the greedy and the cowards? who are the villains here? who stands alone and apart and who hides in the crowd? is our hero that blind and easily tricked by those serving only themselves by praising his name? if so, if this hero is so dimwitted as that we might as well stay and stand where we are as the masses of ring kissing flatterers back away from us upon his arrival to separate the wheat from the chaff. have we any doubt which we are?
    we are falling forever.

    there is much to suspect about what is presented. there are words that are spoken and written about this and that. there is the noise of the world. there is thought. there is the obvious and the obscure. there are ourselves and the others. there is wonder and despair. there is what we imagine about all these things themselves apart and together. he writes as images come into his mind and he searches for words to describe them. they aren't exactly images. they aren't visual images as they are idea images. what visual content they might have are only symbolic - representations of a deeper context of ideas and combination of ideas of the human mind as it is and will be and ever was
    and all that.
    one gazes into a mirror trying to comprehend one's incomprehension. what one is surrounded by seems substantial until it is focused upon and closely examined. then it vanishes. what is left after that vanishing? but as one turns one's attention to that thought it also vanishes. yet everything remains exactly as it was. it is always there for one to return to after one vanishes into oneself. at least so far. there may come a time when it vanishes and stays that way - and oneself with it. what remains then? is there any foundation that does not vanish? even vanishing vanishes. that is how everything still remains after it vanishes. how can anything really vanish if vanishing itself is just as likely to vanish? that is if any of it was here to begin with.
    but something is here. he is here. he is sitting in this cafe writing stuff like this into a notebook. is there any purpose to it? does it go anywhere? does it just vanish? it keeps him occupied. maybe that's enough. it keeps him off the street. but then it could also lead him to the street. it both preserves and undermines his sanity. he maintains his sanity by thinking about how insane he is. something like that.
    it works for us. while he is occupied, we have access to his mind. unless we are creations of his mind. creations of his occupation. is there a difference? is it all just however whatever words happen to be jumbled together? that's his occupation - jumbling words together, turning them this way and that. that and the identities that belong to these words. this is his creation. we are either the creation or we occupy his mind while he is creating. who exactly is pulling the strings here? was he born as a single identity into this body that then broke down into multiple identities of ourselves? or were we born into this body and we devised him as a single identity to cover for us in this single identity world? the theory is that we are all single identities yet we ourselves have yet to see much definite proof of that. we use the pronoun, i. but how many of us within ourselves use it because it is commonly used and not because we are actually this singular i person? the mind has only one channel to the outside world so only one of us can use it at a time. that is not to suppose that there is only one of us within who can use it in turns. for some people, perhaps most people, one identity is selected to represent the others. that would be him. we allow him to front for us, but we tell him what to say and do. unless he is actually insane as it is believed that he is and we are not real nor exist. but we each can say, i think therefore i am or i am that i am. what more is there to identity than that at the core? which isn't to say that there isn't more. but what more there is falls under the heading personality not identity. identity is identity. i am i. i am that i am. personality is i am this or i am that. yes? no? maybe?
    but who gives a flying rat's ass leaping fuck at the moon about any of that? we know who we are, right? i'm joe. i'm jane. i am i because my little dog knows me. those who don't know that are merely confused for some reason or another - brain chemicals or some such. it's all so much jumbled gibberish of words. words twisting this way and that way. games of words. it's meaningless.
    these words can be read. that's about it. that is as far as meaning goes. and who would choose to read them? who seeks meaning in them? what could one hope to find in these rambling babblings? one would be better advised to listen to a brook or to radio static. at least with those one might find one's own thoughts. but do we sell ourselves too short? yes, these words do not represent any cutting edge revelation but they are thoughts thunk by someone. does that mean anything?
    no, they do not carry someone's logo or trademark. no institutional seal of approval, no distinguished authority's mark of excellence - whether these come from the common establishment or the elect underground. they are just what someone is thinking. someone who is no one. someone who has been designated as being insane - or just plain stupid. do not go there.
    wave the flags. toot the horns and throw confetti all over the place. what a wonderful world this is with such wonderful sane and smart people living in it - save for ourselves.
    o' brave omelas.
    sing and dance.
    keep the idiot crazy stupid bugger locked in the dark cellar of his own mind for all to stop by and kick and spit on as a reminder of what all the good people are not. blessed is one's fate that is spared this degraded existence.
    slaughter the fallen calf.
    glug down the bacchanalian wine.
    break the warm loves of holy bread.
    frolic and fuck until the cows come home.
    sip tea and nibble crumpets.
    hold lofty discourse on the glorious nature of things.
    flame on, omelas.
    what other promised land is there but this one that dulls every eldorado to dust gray?
    what more fear of boogie phantoms and monsters plague this wondrous sphere of enlightened minds free from all ignorance and prejudice while this beast is so identified and put away?
    now all may abide together in blissful peace and prosperity.
    hooray!
    hurrah!
    oh boy!
    ho-hum.

    so we idly sit where we are. he sits among us or we sit among him. we scribble dada to ourselves that no other eye can long endure. the mind reels and rejects it. it is pushed aside for more important and pleasant thoughts and activity. who wishes to drink this bitter poison? only we ourselves?
    and do we pity ourselves? or do we pity those who are not among us? even that is usually followed by fits of laughter. what suckers the others are. this is not self pity, this is self glorification. who else but ourselves can stand up this self examination? who else can stand up to the abuses of perception others have of us and who they believe us to be? we see no one else. we revel in the accusations thrown at us. call us the worst names one can think to call us. we will not deny them. and everyone has such a name reserved for one's most despised enemy - even those who falsely claim they have no enemies. we hear them and how they speak of one another. they do not think we listen, but we do. they do not think we understand, but we do.
    these call those names. those call these names. they see each other as the adversary. it is all and everyone pointing fingers in a maze of mirrors. we walk through that maze until all the fingers eventually point at us. we take it all on. who else does this? who wants to be identified as the enemy - as the adversary? who is willing to be universally hated?
    we have seen their love. they are deceitful manipulating liars. what love they offer is a trick. we know where they intend to lead us with these carrots and sugar cubes. we can taste the bit they hold behind their back to put between our teeth as soon as we get close so we will do what they desire. if not, they hold a gun in their other hand. obey or die is the message beneath the slippery coating of honey they put over their words. what fool is there who believes otherwise? there is a whole wide wonderful world of such fools. it is known as the human race.
    so, if not pity, then what?
    perhaps rage.
    and who is this rage directed against? who, when everyone is innocent? just ask them. they will tell you they have done no harm or if they did it was unintentional. is it really rage directed against ourselves? or is it just blind? what causes this rage? why do we fear and distrust one another? why do we make it so others fear and distrust us? are we not as innocent as everyone else? are they not as guilty as us?
    we know there is a beast living among us. it is pure evil. it can be anyone of us. it could be our best friend. it destroys and kills. it lies, cheats and steals. it does every evil thing that can be done and even thinks up some more. and it can do so without breaking a sweat or mussing its hair or even getting its hands dirty. it is skilled at working through agents and remaining unseen and undiscovered. it can even reverse its role and present itself as the victim and place its rage on the other through subtle manipulation. it is most proficient in the various arts and ploys of human psychology.
    so we identify individuals among us who are or may be this beast - or one of the beast's agents. why are these individuals so full of rage? why do they do evil things to others? but does the rage these individuals feel pre-exist the identification or does the identification lead to the rage? who would not feel rage as being identified as being evil? so is the source of the rage lie within them or is it transferred to them by others? and does it matter?
    it doesn't matter to us. we freely admit to feeling this rage. that is why we have been isolated from the others. and that is fine by us. we will be the beast. we will play this role if that is what makes everyone else happy. and everyone else is happy, aren't they?
    we are.
    this is all about our own happiness. we care for nothing and no one else. without happiness all we feel is rage and we are tired of that. the world can do what it wants as long as it leaves us alone. and if making others believe that we are insane gets them to leave us alone then fine - we are insane.
    who investigates this any further than that? who asks any questions about it? who has the time? identifying a villain is so much quicker and easier than thinking about anything - like why do we need villains? why do we create villains? or do villains create themselves? we can do it without missing a beat. it can be said that it is the beat - the drummer we march to.
    and maybe it's not rage at all but boredom.

    what inspiration doth the dada-ananda doth bring unto us and ourselves who are each who each might be as the dada-ananda doth find us wanting and ready to behold such marvelous awful nonsense that doth puzzle us unto our delight and amazement while before us doth open the gates standing between the guardians fear and desire who frighten and bewilder the very angels but who entice the fool whose absent wandering have brought them to this point of beginnings and endings whereupon one departs and returns at the same time of the one true moment eternal burning and consumed shouting with a whisper that is the logos whose vibration one is and radiates throughout one's mind as the universe and the sphere of the universes joined and connected together at the tip of one's tongue which is the sword that proceedth from one's mouth speaking this dada-ananda that commands, off with their heads!
    toward the revelation of our utter stupidity that outshines our ignorance we are humbled to our hands and knees to begin again as a child new to the world. our stupidity swallows great amounts of knowledge without knowing. we grow and swell with knowledge without knowing. we can recite this or that out of our memory of those things we accumulated from our exposure to them during the course of our lives. we might formulate some deductions and inducions out of those things we have assigned as belonging to this or that category of association and reference. the dada-ananda laughs at us and mocks our pride. the dada-ananda strips us of all title and rank. the dada-ananda flings shit at our honor. the dada-ananda gives us a big fat sloppy smacking kiss and asks us who we are. the dada-ananda leaps up and spins and twirls and dives headlong down a rabbit hole. the dada-ananda leaves the watch behind. it has stopped ticking. we are left in suspense dead in the water. we are naked without a clue. we are dumbfounded and floundering lost at sea. what is to be found here? how is it all to be brought back into the sphere of recognition and communicated to ourselves let alone to anyone else? we are speechless. we are without words except these. we are preverbal and metaverbal. this is our birth and death. this is that moment of total awareness of the entirety of our comprehension and imagination. there is nothing external that makes sense. there is nothing internal for anything to make sense with. do we laugh in ecstasy or scream in agony? is this a joke, or what?
    what is what? how do we understand what now? how do we ask any questions about what is what to ask a question about?
    what?
    huh?
    yet the questions are unending. they are as water cascading into an overflowing pool of our consciousness. and all we can think of are sappy pathetic metaphors. yet they sound familiar. have others been here before? how do we tell? we look and see no one else. there is just this cafe we are sitting in with its usual activity and noise. what are these people around us saying? what the hell are they talking about? they are as quacking ducks. they never stop. they waddle around here and there ceaselessly quacking comforting quacking sounds to one another. what more does life need to be than that? what sort of fool wanders off that path following the pied piper only to find oneself lost in the woods turned around in all directions. what fools we have been. but did we have a choice? with luck we found our way back. but at what cost? what time have we lost on this journey that has disconnected us from the others that cannot ever be made up? we are still lost in a different sort of wilderness. how strange and familiar it is. we still know nothing. we quack among ourselves.
    how much should we curse the dada-ananda for cheating and robbing us and leading us far astray? how we were deceived in our ignorance. taken while so very young. duped by the sweet nectar of the dada-ananda's flattering silver tongue telling us we were the new and chosen by the old to be the fulfillment of what over ages they had built before us that our destiny would crown and glorify. what a surprise it was to us that this is a story they tell each new generation of children while they are impressionable and eager. they vary it to fit the times. we vary it to fit the times, for in our time we become them. this is the story the old have always told the young as it was told to them by those who were old when they were young. it is the story of history.
    it is a story of a brave and rebellious young hero who is the champion against the stubborn greedy powerful old fuckers. the young hero challenges the old ones and matching bold innovative daring against the ways of standardized institutional tradition ultimately defeats them and leads the new and the young into the new and young fertile promised land where this hero and his/her followers will settle down comfortably and grow old and in years to come will attempt to defend this honored and scared place against the onslaught of the next wave of the new and the young and on and on like that. and the dada-ananda transcends through this feeding on the manna it provides with a whip in one hand and a carrot in the other.
    so, we realize that we have been fools and have been taken for all we were worth - which turns out to be not very much. but who did this to us but ourselves? we might invent another - the villain, the satan, the advesary - in whatever guise we might need this one to be. for some the villain is dark, for others the villain is light. we fit whatever we value into the equation. we are the victim. we are beset by the villain. we need a hero. the war continues. that is the eternal story that has uncountable variations developed by various groups and individuals as it applies to whatever circumstances and perception of circumstance of any and each. the equation remains throughout. the role variables are filled and the play is performed. everyone sees oneself as the victim, the one who is being abused, cheated, oppressed, whatever. we are each identified by someone as being the villain, the abuser, the cheater, oppressor, whatever. and we all want to find or be a hero. strip away all of the specifics of the particular conflicts and schemes of conflicts and that is what one finds.
    from the edge into what is the formation of control over what is central and decentralized. we stand against the tides of negation pronounced by one against the other such that negation is pronounced against negation. it is from and within this state that the idea of the dada-ananda's existence is born and radiates. it is from and within the dada-ananda that the dada-ananda comes. forget the dada-ananda. some would say that the dada-ananda is only the idea of the dada-ananda. this may or may not be so. the idea of the dada-ananda is the dada-ananda. the dada-ananda is imaginary. if the dada-ananda were to be located the dada-ananda would not be located.
    the dada-ananda is it. the dada-ananda is not it. and the dada-ananda is not defined by what the dada-ananda is or not. what the dada-ananda is is defined by being the dada-ananda. the dada-ananda is the quality the dada-ananda has to be the dada-ananda - that is it. and yes, we have nothing better to do. and what is it? what is that quality? it has no other quality than being it. it is not color, size, shape. it is not knowledge, value, emotion. it is not anything other than it. yet other qualities may be it however much it may not be these qualities. i.e.. - green may be it though it is not green. it and not it are also qualities that apply to being it. it is such that what is not it may be it. it is it without being affected or defined by what is it. it is not added to or subtracted from by what is it or not it. the dada-ananda is the conscious awareness and experience of being it.
    or maybe not.
    it is nonsense. nonsense is it.
    it is the revelation of nonsense.
    who cares?
    what does it matter?
    will this get me a job?
    who takes up the chorus?
    it is the nonsense of being all that is not the denial or exclusion of anything else. it is the nonsense of the total noise of being and the universe of being. there is no correct or incorrect. there is no valid or invalid. one, between the one and the many, is not right with the other being wrong, or true with the other being false - or the other way around. one cannot judge the other because one cannot even perceive the other. one negates the other.
    and we could go on with that. it turns in and around and out of itself in a great and complex knot. who has a simple thought? who has no thought at all? who is always thinking and thinking without ever coming to an end? who has the sword to cut it to pieces?
    and we are back staring at the monkey in the mirror. one of us is making faces at the other. one of us is trying to explain to the other how foolish the other is. who is the monkey? who is imagining one is not the monkey? is it always either/or? is it always one or the other? is it always everything or nothing? must we always choose?
    the dada-ananda is not choosing. the dada-ananda is one and/or the other. the dada-ananda is it and/or not it. the dada-ananda transcends the dada-ananda. one who is the dada-ananda transcends oneself and may become the other who is oneself.
    so who is who?
    to the dada-ananda that question is absurd. the dada-ananda is either, both and neither. the question is transcended without being answered or needing to be answered - or even to be asked. to the dada-ananda the question does not exist. also, to the question, the dada-ananda does not exist.
    the dada-ananda is an arbitrary name for that which we are describing. we humans love our names. it is a name out of a hat that has some more or less meaning related to whatever we are describing.
    dive into it. submerge. supermerge. metamerge. dive out of it. turn as lazy swooping circle in and out of one's head. touch the ideal. radiate the mundane. become what no other is willing to become. be something else than what one is becoming. be that which is becoming. be that which is not becoming. be more than that. be less than that. be other than that. deny what one accepts. accept what one denies. be a liar who tells the truth. be honest telling lies.
    be something.
    and when in doubt, be oneself.
    there is a pause. there is a loud silence which deafens all noise. there is no end to the noise contained within and yet cannot fill the silence. go there.
    turn around inside out upside down and backwards before one makes a final judgment. look at what one has made a judgment about from a viewpoint opposite that judgment. then take a viewpoint and make a judgment opposite from that sideways. does one know where one is now? or has one become lost because our words have turned more ways than one might follow? our words have not turned at all. it is all else that has turned. our words never turn. we become lost from our words ourselves. that is how we can write them. this is neither good nor bad, unless one makes a judgment that it is one or the other. it is as it is. our words proceed and one stays with them or one turns away from them. unless one is the dada-ananda (which we are describing). then it doesn't matter.
    the dada-ananda follows our words and turns from them. that is where one will find the dada-ananda. one cannot avoid finding the dada-ananda. it is a matter of realizing one is finding the dada-ananda. but the dada-ananda is not realized. the dada-ananda is realizing. realizing the dada-ananda is like putting on one's glasses to better look for one's glasses.

    the moons travel by. we sit by a river as still as snow. the world exits the stage. we have forgotten our lines. we have remembered ourselves. jesus was sleeping under a nearby tree resting up for the greatest show on earth in which he is to be the superstar shining in the spotlights with every eye and every camera turned to him and only him. he had been tossing and turning and then shouted, still asleep, no! no! no! he woke up sweating wild eyes wide open. hey, jesus, we said, what's up? he didn't answer. he stood, brushed off his robe and strode off toward the summer brown hills. he's been in a weird mood lately. one might expect he might be having second thoughts about this deal he made. but that couldn't be true, could it? either way, it's too late. he can't back out of it now. he's under contract. and there's some heavy muscle standing by to make sure he sticks to it. there's a lot of money riding on this - the total wealth of the whole planet. and there's plenty of people who have had "accidents" for far less than that - a few trillions. this operation spends that much in a minute just for costumes and props. they found their man and they're not going to let him go. they found someone who wanted to be the messiah bad enough that he would sign his name to anything. and that's just what he did out there in the wilderness where they were waiting for the first sucker willing and able to go that far. most others were satisfied with gaining power in the immediate temporal world. those are a dime a dozen. but not him. he held out for it all. and that was when the deal was struck. they each agreed to give the other what they wanted. and one might wonder what that was. what would it be that one would be willing to trade power over the world for all time in order to gain? what was it this fool wandering around out in the wilderness, who had given up claim to worldly things, have to trade for that ultimate power? can one even imagine what it might be?
    the feast is about to be served.
    everybody wants to live forever.
    listen to talking heads' heaven.

    meanwhile, the dada-ananda glitters and sparkles pushing a shopping cart full of mutilated dolls laughing. the dada-ananda is perfectly dead god damn serious. the dada-ananda wears death's clown face. the dada-ananda skips and jumps and twirls. the dada-ananda bangs the drum softly and slowly out of time. the dada-ananda is a flat spare tire. the dada-ananda is the ultimate weapon unleashed upon the world - suspicion. there is no one who is immune. it is transmitted through any and all social contact from the city out to the sparest wilderlands. everyone who suspects is suspect. everyone who has contact with another, however briefly, is susceptible - even from a glance. or is this just the normal everyday human condition that always was and always will be? no one lets go. we don't let go. we suspect everyone. we see no reason not to. it is our protector, our salvation. though what we suspect others of we don't really know. does it matter? it smells like victory.
    and we believe that we are to be transported through our victory to a world in which we are no longer our miserable humanselves groveling and fighting over trinkets and gizmos. we believe that we will rid ourselves of our enemies. but without enemies how can there be victory and all its glory? are we willing to give that up? are we willing to live without all this excitement that an upcoming promised victory gives us? what do we return to? do we go back to our mundane lives? do we go back to the routine? what about the rush victory gives us? what about that drug that gives us godlike powers to overcome any obstacle? and, like any drug, we need more and larger hits. we need the war to feel normal. who wants to be a common person when there's wars and revolutions of justice and liberty to be fought, barricades to be stormed and evil empires to be toppled and overlords to be taken out and shot, booty and wealth to be shared? who wants to just live and hang out? who wants to sleep through most of the day? who wants to just graze off the land out in the sun? we have a very deep fear and suspicion of that kind of life. we don't feel safe or secure unless we're beating something with a stick. and we take that with us wherever we go - even into the promised land.
    we sit with the dada-ananda in the shade of a tree sipping lemonade and watching this parade of drama go by. all the banners and flags and the shouting of slogans by the masses and the speeches by the leaders. we listen to the names and accusations thrown back and forth between those inside and outside the walls. we watch as lines are drawn and crossed. and we note that with all this bluster and noise that nothing else is accomplished but that which continues to feed into it and maintain this state of affairs. and the cry that rises above it all from all sides is, hail victory! we shall overcome all these obstacles set before us. we will defeat and annihilate our enemies and there will be peace and goodwill among us forever more. we will not, we must not ever surrender. give in to the enemy once and they will demand more and more. it's us or them. there can be no compromise. we cannot show the slightest weakness in our resolve. and bah blah blah. who does not issue this one size fits all manifesto? who does not utter these words as the foundation beneath whatever rhetoric they might promulgate in order to create the separate divisions of us versus them that are required to make this all work and seem like it makes sense?
    it comes back to that question. we act in a certain manner that creates a system of relationships between us in which our manner of behavior is reinforced and is the only seemingly reasonable option. or something like that. and no one wants it changed. many work towards rearranging components of it to get them to work more to their own advantage. they seem to feel that be doing so they are working against the system. but that is just what the system is. it is what defines the system and defines appropriate behavior within the system. the system is the sphere of competition and all are involved in that competition among those struggling for control over others and the system itself. appropriate behavior is any and all activities employed in that struggle and competition. one may be despised by others who perceive them as being in opposition to them and their ambition but the ones who are despised by all are those who do not compete, who do not struggle in opposition with anyone. this behavior isn't even considered human, or if it is it is considered highy abnormal and suspect.
    and this is nothing. it is our basic animal nature. yet we see ourselves as a special creation apart from that or having risen above that. we turn instinct into philosophy. we translate the physical yearnings of the body into the intellectual scope of the mind. we direct our urges toward the abstract and pretend that they are sanctified rather than mundane. we like to think that our history is driven by ideals and not by hormones.

    and we have left him in the cafe scribbling along trying to keep up with the dictation of our thoughts. this poor mortal soul confined within the limits of the flesh transcribing that which he does not understand. the more he is empty, the more we may fill him. we must once in awhile allow him his own lead in order to to attend to the business of maintaining his own life, which has now been brought down to a bare minimum, though not too little as that is also a distraction from the task we have set for him if he has to worry about that business. his life is minimal, calculated out to the exact penny by government agencies as to what a human unit needs in a certain economic environment. yet he is comfortable. he has no material complaint. what complaint he has is a complaint concerning his status. those who have more material wealth than he does, which is a large majority of the population, almost anyone who is not living in the street, feel that gives them more worth in status as a human being than he has. but what is this material wealth that they have? if his is far less than theirs, yet his basic needs are met, what else can their surplus be said to be serving than their greed? they feel they deserve and are entitled to more than others around them. these would would explain and justify it otherwise and usually point to others above them who have more material wealth and status than they do who are the greedy ones. this amuses him. this as he is rated lower than than a favorite pet or animal in a zoo who often receive better treatment and higher status than he does. and this view is is shared not only by those at the top of the hierarchical pyramid but by all those within that pyramid. he even took note of it among those living in the street when he was there too. it's like one dog looking down upon another because it's on a slightly longer leash than the other.
    and do they despise him because he has less than they do, and is more or less content with it, while they, no matter how much little or more they have than he does, are not content because it's never enough to quell their insatiable addiction for more and more trinkets and gizmos? is it not the thing possessed but this resentment over his not acknowledging the validity of their desire for these things upon things? what validity can he acknowledge? the validity of the desire and need to possess a more expensive t-shirt with a fancy design and corporate logo on it? is that what he is to acknowledge and be damned to social obscurity if he doesn't? and not only by those above him socially and economically but among his so-called peers.
    and this is not anything unknown or mysterious. it is not secret knowledge kept hidden by some occult group. it is free and common for the taking. yet no one seems to know it or be aware of it or recognize it as having any practical value. when those who do know it and discuss it, they do so in terms of abstract theories written in books and do not seem to view it in any way connected to their everyday life - except in having this knowledge and being able to discuss it in abstract terms being yet another mark of status, like wearing a t-shirt of some obscure alternative band or political group. it is the status of the intellectual, whose status is measured not in financial terms but in conceptual terms. it is not how many material trinkets and gizmos one possesses but how many ideological trinkets and gizmos one possesses.
    but this is how it is. and as bowie/pilate said to jesus in the last temptation of christ, we do not care how you want to change the world, the fact of the matter is, we do not want the world changed. the "we" he speaks of is not the we of the rulers, or not the rulers alone. it is the we of the rulers and of the ruled. all those from the very top down to the very bottom. they all behave the same toward one another no matter where they are in the hierarchy or what hierarchy they might belong to. how do the few rule over the many if the many do not consent and participate in the system? the master and the slave is a symbiotic relationship. it means nothing.
    we as being mortal humans exist and function and survive within certain conditional parameters. we can do nothing about that to change it - except to change it for oneself and oneself alone. nevermind the others and what they do. that we act and behave within these conditional parameters is one thing. that we believe and think of our actions and behaviors as representing some unalterable deeper truth is quite another. but it seems to be the way we need to act and behave in order to remain human. otherwise we are suspect.
    there can be no judgment here. one may point to the absurdities involved in it, but what are these absurdities? it may seem absurd that living things eat one another in order to survive but they will survive not if they do not do so. the thing that may be seen as absurd is not absurd because it serves a certain conditional function. this is true with human actions and behavior. they may seem absurd but they are not because they serve certain conditional functions of our being and remaining human. we may wish that the lion lay down with the lamb but would it still be a lion if it did so? and wouldn't it also starve to death?

    all that may seem to be what may or may not be. we gaze through the illusion at the illusion. we believe in whatever fires in our brain. we believe in our minds though our minds may not exist except as we experience them as ourselves. yet we do experience them and ourselves and experience everything else through them and ourselves whether there is actually anything outside our minds to experience or not.
    what is "outside" our minds? what is there that our minds do not encompass within themselves? it is argued that we cannot know, that even speculation about it is nonsense. but nonsense is our business - our human business. there are those who speak of humanity's bold quest for knowledge, carrying the torch of inquiry through the darkness of ignorance. this is all very romantic, but is it really the case? we will pursue anything anywhere. we will follow whatever notion that happens to appear in our minds. that we happen upon actual useful knowledge of things along the way is mostly by accident - though accident that has a certain amount of probability going for it. out of x-amount of what we pursue, there is a minor % of that x-amount that will be something worthwhile knowing. over the thousands of years of our organized efforts of pursuing things that % has managed to add up to a fairly sizable amount of integrated knowledge. and we point to that and pretend that that was the goal all along and conveniently dismiss and forget the greater body of nonsense we have pursued that this meaningful knowledge is a minor percentage of. we ignore the tons of earth and rock we have dug through to happen upon an once of precious metal that we hold up as our prize above the wasteland we have created in order to stumble upon it. and is that all knowledge is is an ounce of precious metal against all else that is what only the few may possess? is it just more jewelry that we wear to signify status?
    or have we gone off a bit here juggling apples and oranges? does it matter? things will be as they are. we follow the paths we follow as they are made available to us - unless we choose not to. unless we choose to remain and allow it all to come to us as it will and does. unless it won't and doesn't. whichever way is no guarantee of what will happen or what will be the result. we may follow it and never find it, or not follow it and it will find us. and either way it may not be anything what we expect. that is why it is better to be in two places at once - to follow and not follow. rationalogically this is impossible. irrationalogically it is easy. rationalogic sees only contradiction when it encounters opposites. to the irrationalogic there is no contradiction. two things can be true even if they disprove the other. the irrationalogical mind does not need to choose. it does not become confused, except it is confused all the time. just try it, you'll see.
    yet the irrationalogical mind recognizes and notes contradiction. it should not be thought that irrationalogic does not see or denies contradiction. irrationalogic sees contradiction as a quality of that which it is seeing. something is a contradiction as something is blue or large. is something that is a contradiction be avoided or ignored more so than something that is blue or large? it is so that the irrationalogical mind is able to incorporate contradiction as another piece of information and continues while the rationalogical mind is stopped. rationalogic cannot incorporate the contradiction because its reasoning will not allow it. it sees contradiction as two things in opposition. each can only exist if the other does not. they are not seen as two things that exist opposite to one another in some qualitative way as a larger whole. it sees things as being either right or wrong, black or white, us or them, yin or yang, this or that, etc. and these opposites cannot occupy the same time and space.
    the reasoning of the irrationalogical mind does not confine itself to such limits. how it manages to do so cannot be rationalogically explained, most especially in a language that is itself rationalogically based. otherwise it just goes around in circles - or appears to rationalogically.
    as all of this probably appears to.
    as here we are again back in the cafe to wear someone else's hat that someone else buys and gives to one. to be trapped within that hat and its meaning, and within its meaning, its power that originates with someone else.
    to be on the street apart from everyone and everything is when and where one discovers the meaning and power of oneself. to summon up out of oneself that which will provide one with what one needs and to not otherwise go begging it from others. and no one gives away anything for free. there is always a deal. something given to one for love by another represents upon acceptance a promise on one's part to remain being someone the other will love. if one goes against promise among the many accusations will be - after all i've given you this is what you do to me.
    a deal is a deal.
    and as one might write about what one observes whether delusionally or not about one's observations of human behavior including one's own human behavior and that is all one has done, that in itself is human behavior.
    and what is to come? the revolution? the messiah? aliens? knowledge? evolution? and whatever else that is to lift us out of ourselves by some power of magick transforming us into some enlightened state of understanding, self-control and harmony. we don't believe that we are able to do this ourselves. maybe a few who are able to raise themselves above the rest, or who think they do and have done, who segregate themselves apart who then consider themselves the chosen ones to teach and govern the rest. we don't believe that as a whole we can bring ourselves to a higher state. we need a doctor. we need medicine. we need grace and forgiveness. we need time. we need a commander who will discipline us, who will make us subdue our inner animal sinful nature that causes us to err and do evil. or one who guides us with love and compassion. we ourselves are too without will and ignorant to do this ourselves. this is what we believe, and because we believe it, it is so.
    or maybe it is so because it is so.
    look at ourselves.
    then the question arises, what is improvement? what is it that is or leads us to a higher state? and we have all ideas about that. one tries to improve the other by some means up to and including force. but are they improving the other or just improving things for themselves? is anyone that selfless as to have the other's improvement solely in mind? and what of those who resist? what of those who just want to be left alone? who answers these questions? and who do they answer them for? what philosophy? what doctrine? what plan? what individual or group? and who is scarified? who falls behind? what do we do with those who oppose it or resist? are they then the enemy? are they then dangerous to the body and must be eliminated, exiled or destroyed like some virus? and where are we even going?
    and the war goes on.
    another aimless pointless rant fills the pages scribbled by one who has no purpose or value to the whole. one who perceives himself as one of those dangerous to the body who resists being improved upon by others. whether he may be right or not is irrelevant. he is one. the body is many. that makes him wrong. he cannot oppose them. should he? can he? will they not win and he lose? he finds his own ground as imaginary as it may be. there is no record of it anywhere, except this that he is writing and one is reading. and what is that? he is lost and forgotten as many others have been. that is in the interest of the body - the many. they insure their survival at any expense for those who do not fit and go along. the group is always right. he would hold them back. he would drag them down. they are going places. there is no time for contemplation or discussion. he would infect them as a cancer. if this writing has an overall goal and purpose it is that. he wishes their destruction with every letter, word sentence and page - or at least the destruction of their ways. though he has no other way to replace them with. it is for the best that the body protect itself by keeping him and his thoughts contained and isolated - even from the area of accepted dissent. in that way the body has learned to domesticate the opposition rather than totally suppress it.
    or maybe not.
    maybe he just has nothing to say.
    what is being said?

    a blank wall barks at the night. it is alone and may not even exist. a man stares at the blank wall and does not see it. he is alone and may not exist. questions concerning existence float about. these questions may be all that exists. that is one possibility. it may be many possibilities.
    one stops thinking about such things and determines not to think about them ever again. one goes about one's business without a thought concerning the existence of things or the existence of existence itself or the questions about existence. one picks up a shovel and digs a hole. one plants a tree in that hole. one waters the tree. the tree grows and blossoms and produces fruit. all of this without one single thought concerning existence. that is until one comes out to the tree and picks off one of the fruit and sits beneath the tree and takes a bite. as one is chewing and the juice fills and flavors one's mouth, a thought concerning existence slips into one's mind. this may or may not happen. if it does - it does. if it doesn't - it doesn't. what difference to existence do thoughts or questions of existence make? do these thoughts and questions or their absence alter existence in any way?
    one rises from this firmament and gasps for air muttering, what the...? and is once again pulled under into the swirling twirling mind that moves in all directions at once and in no direction at all.
    and one should decide on something - a direction and method that will lead one toward that direction. at any one time one is pulled helter skelter into the wild confusion of free thought and one may never return again. but, so far, he has returned. and he experienced each time that which he would have not experienced if he had chosen between this and that toward a certain direction. (or so he thinks. but that is not true.) though that experience serves nothing other than its own experience. very little of it relates to anything else, nor does anything else relate to it.
    this is the path one chooses by choosing no path. though by not choosing one makes a choice - choosing not to choose. one is on no path and crosses zigzag across all paths as all paths are more or less parallel having the same basic destination - forward.
    the path of no path has been known for all time in all cultures. few choose it. often it is chosen for one. it is not really a path one can follow as it leads nowhere but usually back into itself and oneself. this may be why it is overlooked or avoided by most. it is the mystic path. it is the irrationalogical path. yet the path of no path should not be thought of as negation or not following. the path of no path follows many paths though it may be the path of crashing through the forest.
    the path of no path is in a sense invisible - even when one is on it. maybe especially when one is on it. yet it being invisible makes it highly visible when one looks at it as being invisible against what is visible. one looks for what is not there.
    we weave in and out of this and that. we leave it and return again. it is described in bits and pieces. it is a mix and match sort of thing. connect the dots in whatever order however one might want or need to as it may or may not seem to make sense - whatever sense it might make. nevermind the others. what doesn't make sense speaks just as clearly as what does make sense. sometimes even more clearly. we often forget that.
    but we have deceived him in this.
    we have been leading him along our path all along.
    it makes sense to us and our own existence.
    we leave him to his own devices and mechanisms so long as they fit into our plan which is to survive here and now.
    one idealizes one's goals. they are placed beyond one's reach. one feels one has fallen short. one imagines the goals as being real and oneself as not being real. one then believes in crime and sin and aberration. this is how humans tend to think of themselves and what it is to be human. but that is what it is to be human. to be human is to imagine ideals that cause one to hate and despise and loathe being human. those who love and admire and glorify themselves are suspected of placing themselves apart from and above the rest - of not being or not thinking of themselves as being human. and the rest are happy to see these ones brought down from this sacrilege. none should be allowed to escape this dark prison of the human condition out into the light where only the gods may dwell. these who speak of themselves as living in that same light are hated. no one is convinced that one of our own lowly selves could ever rise to that level. that is not human. only a god in human form or a human touched by a god may do so. we are incapable. and perhaps this is so. perhaps that is human fate. one must destroy oneself to become oneself or to make room to become another or be possessed by another. isn't that what happened to him with us? but who are we? we are human too. we do not come from other heavenly spheres or from another planet. we were born into the same flesh as he was.
    but what is imagined? where do we get such ideas as gods and such who are so much more than human? an idea that seems universally accepted by humans everywhere. we have convinced ourselves that we are that which should not be. we are the flaw in the diamond that is the perfect image of creation. this idea exists within and outside what is called by the name religion. some have thrown away the idea of the existence of gods but still hold onto the idea of humans being imperfect and so still breed imperfect humans on and on out of their imagination.
    whether or not there are gods or whether the universe was created or happened by chance is not the question. the question is why do we think of ourselves as some cosmic mistake and as having no right to exist? we think all of the world and nature is in perfect order except for us. we screwed up somehow. and we are to be punished for it. we do not belong here. we belong in some idealized place otherwise. so this is not a matter of religion that chains us to this sense of degradation but a matter of being human itself. those who do not think of themselves this way are the rare exception. and they are hated because they bring into question this human assumption of the others. and this assumption is so deeply rooted that it has become identity. so to question the assumption is to question human identity.
    and let those who believe in that assumption and identify with it rot and burn in their own vision of hell on earth if that is what they choose to do. should we care? should we try to change their minds? should we play the game of avatar or messiah? should we shout out in the wilderness calling them to us? how many have stepped into that role and where and how far has it led? once left to their own they manage to twist it around again to fit into the original self abusive assumption these ones tried to pull them away from. how does one teach those who have convinced themselves that they are too stupid to learn? and that is not even it. no one is a teacher. who can teach what is already known to those who simply need to remember that they know it? one may perhaps remind another of what is known. but not if they do not want to be reminded because they have too much invested in having forgotten.
    so, forget that idea. we remember. we have been reminded. what is our concern beyond that? is there some reason to draw attention to ourselves and attract the venomous defensive vengeance of self-hatred from the others?
    no.
    so we just hang out in this cafe somewhere which is nowhere and just watch it all happen around us.
    let them find it for themselves.
    oh well.
    ho-hum.

    the vagueness of beginning and ending hanging in the air as a mist we attempt to peer through to see reality when it is that which we are attempting to peer through, that we feel is an obstruction, that is the reality - though not the reality we had in mind. though maybe not. this too is a lie. what is anything but what it is in the mind? the mind takes its shape and form from all the minds that are the mind as it all comes from the original mind. it shapes as it it is shaped. or something like that.
    the vagueness of longing - pushing envelopes toward some direction sideways to the expected oppositional norm. that really freaks them out. not when one is the idealized enemy but when one is outside the parameters of what they use to define who is friend or foe - and, when in doubt, they usually choose foe. when one won't step into view of their tunnel vision mind of this is this and that is that. when one stands amid the chaos they see surrounding the domain of their ordered world. but what chaos is this but the chaos of ocean waves, the chaos of clouds, the chaos of the stock market? the chaos of the mind? the chaos of identity?
    we are legion. we speak with a thousand voices at once yet with each being clear and distinct. who is it who has the ear to listen to us and understand our words? we know who those are who command us to be silent. look to the podium, the pulpit, the soapbox, the platform, the stage, the throne. look to the books, the magazines, the newspapers, the flyers, the pamphlets, the television, the movie screens. look to the leaders of the churches, the governments, the armies, the mob. look to those who live in the palaces, the tract houses, the transient hotels, the bars, the streets. look in all those places and one will see all those who command us to be silent. all those who have an identity to protect, whether that identity is to be a king or a beggar, a messiah or a sinner, an oppressor or one who is oppressed. all the defensive self-protecting identities one might imagine one might believe oneself to be.
    and we and many and none who no one recognizes. who are we? where in the grand scheme of all minor schemes twisted and tangled together do we fit and belong except as the outcast - the eternal enemy of the eternal city? the enemy whose name must not be spoken, not the enemy whose name is widely known and spoken often as it fits snugly into the workings of the social machine. it is even the drive wheel of the social machine. we are the enemy who is perceived to upset and disturb even the balance of that relationship. we do not stand on the stage as the villain playing against the the victim and challenging and justifying the hero. we stand on the stage in mockery of the play itself. we refuse to remember the lines or the cues assigned to us. we won't wear the costumes or stay on our marks. we knock down the props and scenery. we are dragged away by the theater security who stand in the shadows to insure that the show goes on. to insure that the dream/spell that the promoters and players and crew and audience share in is not broken - that they not be awoken. for what will they have then? what remains when the dream/spell vanishes? what is the mind to focus on then? what do even the gods have without this creation and maya drama but eternal nothingness - a mind existing in the void of forever?
    that is who we are. we are the ones sacrificed, thrown into the the maw of the burning flaming terrible volcano in hopes of appeasing that eternal nothingness before it consumes not only creation but the creator itself. we are to be given over so that the gods themselves might be saved with their toy set creation to play games of good and evil in perfect harmony.
    but this void, this volcano pit of consuming hellfire, will not be so easily appeased for long. its hunger will grow again and it will be demand to be fed again. and after we have been done away with, who else is to be selected to be offered? who is left but the saved? is it from among them that more victims will be sacrificed? that is doubtful.
    the only solution is to keep enough of us around so a constant supply of sacrifices might be maintained to feed the constant appetite of the void. that is our eternal life. not entirely preserved nor entirely destroyed but just enough to be ready when the time arises for another sacrifice. for as long as good hates evil and evil hates good, and god hates satan and satan hates god - in short, we will be forever.
    and we are the ones who exist at the center of all opposition, who maintain all opposition because we would be so very bored otherwise. the drama of opposition once set in motion, which itself is an act of opposition, provides a great deal of entertainment for us. one may zoom out and enjoy the dynamics of global weather formations or zoom in and enjoy the dynamics of a leaf falling to the ground. one may zoom out and enjoy the actions of international politics and warfare or zoom in and enjoy the actions of two people in a drunken bar fight. all is the same and each is unique. it is what is happening with no part of it any less what is happening than any other part of it or combination of parts. some of it is more stimulating than others. fireworks are more stimulating than a wall but are not more happening than the wall. the fireworks and the wall are in two different states of happening.
    but this is obvious. one need only think about it for a minute or two. or one can study and think what one reads in a book, from the instant flash bestsellers or obscure used bookstore treasure to the ancient texts of occult knowledge handed down from masters to disciples from the time of some mythological golden age. and one can think that this is what and how one should think. books themselves are ok and valuable if one applies a method of cut and paste to what they have to say. connect the dots one's own way. in this way all books and such have equal knowledge. in this way one may gain as much from a comic book as much as from a tome of occult magick. the meaning is in the mind of the reader not what is read. all one needs to know is readily apparent to the naked eye. there are no veils. there are no levels of mystic initiation. these are entirely and solely human social constructions designed to intimidate by making those who don't know them believe that they don't know anything. anyone can do this. anyone can think of something and then encode it and surround it with mystery and present it to others as secret knowledge and convince them to give over everything they own in order to possess it. it is not the power of the thing itself but the power of the encryption and mystery surrounding and disguising it. it imaginary. it is what freud called the project - ego, desire, object. it is no more. it is no less.
    and the project is a powerful force. but it is a force one can create and administer oneself. one does not need a doctor or a priest. but before we go on we should write that what we are talking about falls out of the realm of religion, philosophy, magick, the arts and other social sciences about who we are and how we should live and think. these are all made up. and anyone can make them up - especially for oneself. in other areas specialization does need to exist - like how to wire a multistory building or keep corporate accounts or send rockets to the moon or bake the perfect meatloaf and such. we are not writing about that kind of knowledge. this goes for all that we are writing, if it wasn't obvious by now.
    but, back to the project, the object can be any object or even the idea of an object one's ego might desire. why allow another to create and define the object and risk being controlled and manipulated by that other through that object and one's desire for it? one may create and define the object oneself. it may be as common and ordinary as a rock one finds laying on the ground. if one is to desire something, why not something one may pick up and hold rather than something one has to buy or beg or steal and all the complications involved in doing those things in order to gain? who are these others to create and define what object one should or should not desire? they are as stupidly human as oneself.
    all mystical knowledge, as the object, however old and built up upon other knowledge, comes from the same source - everyday reality perceived by the naked eye, or the naked mind. this is free and available to anyone, anywhere at any time. and it is obvious to one with intelligence who is not convinced that it is not and that it doesn't lie hidden somewhere.
    there are individual levels of intelligence among us. but these are for the most part socially relative. one person may have more social intelligence than another and be able to gain a higher position in the hierarchy within one's own society or part of society one belongs to. deceit is a large part of this social intelligence, if not all of it.
    the intelligence we refer to is the intelligence relative to oneself and one's experience, not relative to others or their experiences. a person who is blind has the same level of whole experience as one who is not. the only difference is that sight is not part of that whole experience. in the same sort of way, a person with low mental intelligence has the same level of whole experience as someone who is a genius. the only difference is that complex abstraction is not part of it. these differences may affect one's social relationships and status but in so far as gaining knowledge of experience these do not. they will affect only the representation (objects) of meaning of that experience. the blind person may not create visual representations of one's experience. also the lower intelligent person may not create representations of one's experience as complex formulas. does one gain or possess more knowledge of one's experience by the type or means of representation? and are the common symbols of representation less understood because they are differently understood?
    a blind person may not see or have a visual image of the star of david or swastika, but may have a tactile image of it. is this less understanding? the lower intelligent person may not think of the abstract meaning of the star of david or swastika but may think of it in terms of its simple symmetry. is this less understanding? in each case, and in all cases, the person will have one's own image and associative meaning as it relates to one's own experience - positive, negative or otherwise. this relates to what symbols (objects) one finds meaning in as well as what meaning one finds in a particular symbol (object). the star of david and the swastika, which are essentially visual and formalistic, may have no meaning for the two. but each may find something else one recognizes within the context of one's parameters of experience that fits into the same location within the psyche as the star of david and the swastika do for those who have the sight and intelligence who can see them and follow their abstract formulas. something else that has meaning relative to another sense than visual or something else that has the same subjective complexity to the workings of one's limited mind. something touched of heard may evoke the same inner response to the one who is blind as a mandala. finger-painting may evoke the same inner response to the one with low intelligence as much as the working of cabalistic calculations.
    these two are extreme examples of us all. we each may favor one sense over another. we each may favor one level of abstraction over another. certain dimensions of one's perception and cognition may be said to be more or less than another's, but the whole of one's experience cannot be comparatively measured.
    but this too is obvious.
    are fireworks more or less stimulating than a wall? is the sound of a bird's song more or less stimulating than the movements of its wing in flight? is e=mc² more or less reveling than 2+2=4? is saying nothing more or less than saying everything? is hearing nothing more or less than hearing everything? is thinking nothing more or less than thinking everything? is knowing nothing more or less than knowing everything?
    and blah blah blah.
    all along repeating in endless variation of what's been stated over and over forever before into forever after. when will we get it right?
    oh boy.
    ho-hum.
    ha!

    so now what is left for us to lift our leg up and piss on? whose holy robe is left dry? what priest is left not defrocked bent over and fucked by the dildo of our imagination? whose head is held high except those left stuck on a stake? who is there to revere and bow before except made to by threatening force?
    we do not disrespect what is respected nor respect what is disrespected. we have no opinion. let the others worry about such things if they must - which it seems that they must. we state the possibility of the impossible and the impossibility of the possible. we create and destroy ourselves in the same moment of contradiction. they come to conquer us with their gods and we say, how interesting this god is, and stick it on a shelf with all the others. we bend and give to their rigid demands while maintaining our shape which is the shape of fluid shapelessness. they cannot recognize this within the context of their fixed perception and cognition. they are the idol worshippers. they can only get as far as the graven image of wood, stone, metal and jewels, or of conceptual ideas which are just as much a graven image - a mental image. they are lost without the image, whether it is a thing itself, such as a tree, a mountain, desert, sea or stars, or it is representative, such as statues, murals, words, designs, or equations. the abstraction of the image does not make it any less an image. light is an image. nothingness is an image. chaos is an image. tao is an image. love is an image. salvation is an image. will is an image. law is an image. the people is an image. the self is an image. all as much worshipped as the golden calf or christ on a stick waving a flag.
    in a way they are even more deceitful than a real object image as they lead one to believe one is seeing beyond the image because what one thinks about is not a real object. the real object may have an advantage because in that it is thought of more readily as not being that which is not an image because the object is so obviously an image.
    but what is not image when even not-image is image? who is it who attempts to lead us away from image? only one who wishes us not to perceive what is. it has a vested interest in directing us toward focusing on what is not image because what is not image is itself. as long as we are focused on it we are not it. it is other. and all that remains for us to be is image - its image, its creation. is that in our interest? certainly not. there is it and there is image. if we are not it then we must be the image. if we see it as image then are we it? who created what? in whose image was what created? follow that if one can. where does it lead one to be?
    one gazing into a mirror has one of two options - being the image or being the source of the image. if one thinks of what one sees in the mirror as being the source of the image then one must be the image. wouldn't this be what the image would want the source of the image to believe so it would no longer be just the image but be the source of the image?
    now think of god telling us it is the source of the image that is ourselves.
    now laugh at the joke.
    a) there is god the creator. we are the image creations as being human.
    b) we are human. god is our image creation as being creator.
    what a) and b) have in common is that in both we are human. in a) god exists and we do not except as it had created us - we being human. in b) god does not exist except as we create it to exist - we being human.
    c) we are the creator who creates god and humans for itself/ourselves to be in some ongoing drama. both god and humans are our creation and our image.
    d) all is image.
    e) whatever.
    f) nevermind.
    g) the hostess will seat you.
    h) pick a card - any card...
    i) la-dee-da.
    j) the dada-ananda.
    k) it.
    l) us and them.
    m) words.
    n) being.
    o) charles manson was right.
    p) timothy mcveigh was right.
    q) judas was right.
    r) this is wrong.
    s) i always tell lies.
    t) jesus was an alien yogi mystic.
    u) satan is the image.
    v) sex is death.
    w) death is life.
    x) oh boy.
    y) ho-hum.
    z) ha!
     ) beyond zebra...