Time After Ti-me

I couldn't be more pleased. I have a new toy to play with. The very idea that I might be a docetic creature who can't become human is very amusing. This ties in so well with what I experienced in my remembering vision. All those bodies I made myself into and then abandoned takes on a whole new perspective when seen from the point of view of a docetic entity. A frustrated docetic entity. It's not working...

I've "seen" myself moving through my body changing things around according to the dictates of the moment. I've always associated this sort of thing with the Kundalini experience I fell for while walking down the beach one day minding my own business. What happened, happened, and it was only afterwards that I sought a description for it. Why am I always the last to gnow?

Trying furtively to catch up with the specious future is all I'm doing now. Looking for a new frame of abstraction with which to review the sensory dimension as if it's my ho-me (whole me).

I've never been one much for working for a living. I've avoided it when I could at a heavy price. Working nine-to-five would have been much easier in some ways, but I recognize the signs that entrapped me into coming to this black hole called Earth billions of years ago. Many moons ago. From the outside looking in, that is, as opposed to being-in-itself. I created my own spidery network of beings by adopting the various rules of conscience available, for a while, and then casting them away if they became inconvenient. It's not a one-way deal like being stuck on Earth is.

Many systems of thinking from every era of every culture of homo sapiens have used the Sun and Moon as symbols to represent two vastly different, but conjoined ways of organizing the sensory modalities for the purpose of reflection.

When the Sun and the Moon occupy the exact same degree in the sky it's called the new Moon, and during that time of the Moon it can't be seen from Earth because it's hidden in the light of the Sun. It's there. You just can't look at it without risking the very real possibility of going blind. Like welding without a protective shield.

There are a lot of myths based on this astronomical event, and the myths that are based on this astronomical event are sometimes called astrology. Not only is astrology the root of all evil to some people, it's the root of the very system they use to condemn it. It's not what it is, and is what it ain't. An enigma, someone once wrote, wrapped in a mystery.

An enigma that unwraps itself to a true state of mystery. It's only an enigma if you can't jump the broom with the okay-ness of it being a mystery. If you find the enigma unacceptable as a mystery, then you're just screwed when it comes to knowing what's what. At least, that's the concept I climbed in bed with. God knows I'm fickle though. It's one of the banes of my ex-is-tense. Banshees? Furies?

Fooling around in the ex-is can be tricky. It's easy to get tricked into thinking such and such is so and so while the band plays on. It's no fun playing catch-up all the ti-me. You know my solution to this. Your milage may vary. I have to view the specious present as if it's plausible, but not convincing.

The only way to properly describe a dream you have while you're sleeping would be to speak your descriptions at the same time they happened, as if you're the announcer that calls the game play-by-play. If you turn to your sidekick to consider the history of one of the players to add color to the broadcast, the game is still being played.

The professional announcer would naturally develop the ability to sleep with one eye open to be able to participate in the discussion of the player's history with his fellow commentator, and simultaneously stay familiar with the ongoing events of the ga-me. This is what I mean by treating the future and the past as plausible, but not convincing. If the announcer becomes infatuated with either of the two ongoing activities, the other will suffer a loss of believability.

Tricky business. Most likely, there are many other events taking place in the same arena to further distract and cause loss of face. I didn't realize then that humans can't be consciously aware of their own possibilities in real time. I was driven by the urge to do something I couldn't make happen for either love nor money. Idiot savant.

There is no better metaphor for baggage than picking cotton by hand. The more cotton you pick, the heavier the load. You're getting paid to make your load heavier. Cotton is picked in the hottest weather of the year. The dog days of summer. I emerged from my burdensome chore of growing and picking my own cotton with one solemn vow. "There's gotta be a better way."

When my parents told me that the only way to be sure something is done right is to do it yo'self, they were unknowingly attempting to condemn me to a life of spiritual poverty. Maybe they did know. The first thing about that to torment me was the need to assume that there was a "right" way to do things. That attitude would crush my curiosity. Did I want that?

It took me forever to realize that whatever values I adopted to guide my behavior must need be transitory, and subject to sudden and complete change. I became convinced of this during my reading and study of The Tibetan Book Of The Dead. The clear light comes first, and you gotta be ready. Either you let it get you immediately without doubting or you wait for the next model of bus. As I read this old book I realized through my own experience that I had missed out on a lot of opportunities because I didn't know what was possible for me, and because I couldn't let go of my old values quick enough to let myself be taken in by something new and possibly different in it's entirety.