practice of non-practice

Whenever you are absent as "you," You are present as I. So you may say "My absence as 'me' is My presence as I."
Of course I am always present as I, but when I appear to be present as "you" (or as "me") I seem to be absent, i.e. My presence appears to be an absence.
Also you may say "My absence as 'that' (which can be known) is My presence as THIS" (about which there cannot be anything to know).
If one were to think it, apperceive it, understand it, even occasionally?...
Note: When I am present as "you" I seem to last, to be extended in "time." When I am present as "you" others think they see me as "you," and they see a few bits of "your" surfaces, and other bits reflected in mirrors, but only bits and all surfaces, so that I appear as "form," extended in "space."
When I am present as I, I have no objective appearance at all to need extension, and I am no "thing" to have "duration." It is only as "you" that I am extended in form as appearance and require duration as time. As "me" I am not at all, for when I am objectified I am always "you" since all form soever is My "you."
I can only be seen or known as "you," but there are no "others" at all - only "you" as I, for except as appearance I am not in any sense "you" could understand - since "you" can only understand what "you" can objectify in "your" split-minded condition, and "you" cannot objectify what I am because I am all that "you" are.

-Wei Wu Wei

for síle

When the beetle sees, it is I that am looking,
When the nightingale sings, it is I that am singing,
When the lion roars, it is I that am roaring.

But when I look for myself, I can see nothing - for no thing is there to be seen.
Síle cannot see me either, for when she tries to see me it is I who am looking: she can do nothing - for only I can do anything.
The beetle can say that also, and Síle, for we are not three, nor two, nor one.

I am the sea too, and the stars, the wind and the rain,
I am everything that has form - for form is my seeing of it.
I am every sound - for sound is my hearing of it,
I am all flavors, each perfume, whatever can be touched,
For that which is perceptible is my perceiving of it,
And all sentience is mine.

They have no other existence, and neither have I - for what they are I am, and what I am they are.
What the universe is I am, and what I am the universe is.
And there is no other at all, nor any one whatsoever.

Gate, gate, paragate, parasamgate, Bodhi! Svaha!

-Wei Wu Wei
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early zen

Plato was discoursing on his theory of ideas and, pointing to the cups on the table before him, said while there are many cups in the world, there is only one `idea' of a cup, and this cupness precedes the existence of all particular cups.

"I can see the cup on the table," interupted Diogenes, "but I can't see the `cupness'".

"That's because you have the eyes to see the cup," said Plato, "but", tapping his head with his forefinger, "you don't have the intellect with which to comprehend `cupness'."

Diogenes walked up to the table, examined a cup and, looking inside, asked, "Is it empty?"

Plato nodded.

"Where is the `emptiness' which procedes this empty cup?" asked Diogenes.

Plato allowed himself a few moments to collect his thoughts, but Diogenes reached over and, tapping Plato's head with his finger, said "I think you will find here is the `emptiness'."

good morning

One: Good Morning. How are you?
The Other: I am. And you?
One: As cross as two sticks.
The Other: Who is cross? And how can there be two sticks? Is one not enough?
One: Who is cross? I am, of course.
The Other: Impossible. Of what are you speaking?
One: My ego.
The Other: Your what?
One: My ego.
The Other: Whatever is that?
One: The ego, e-g-o, the confounded thing that keeps us all imprisoned, the identification No. 1, the cause of all the trouble.
The Other: I know of no such thing. Does it exist, and if so - where? I have never seen anything of the kind. You are suffering from hallucinations. You shouldn't let yourself imagine things.
One: Hang it all, we all have an ego. It may be an illusion and all that, in fact we know that it is, but, living as we do, we are cross and offended and this and that, and what is it that feels all that sort of thing but our ego?
The Other: You are as firmly tied up in your dualistic verbiage as a kitten in a ball of wool.
One: Well, then, unwind me, like a good fellow.
The Other: That would be a laborious process; let's cut the wool. The ego is a concept, as you well know, as notion, at the very most a working hypothesis, a supposition, and algebraic symbol like pi, something posited in order to serve as a basis for the explanation of the inexplicable.
One: Quite unreal and all that. Yes, yes, well do we know it!
The Other: Well do you know it - and yet you go on behaving exactly as though you still believed it to be reality. You go on attributing your reactions to something you say you know to be imaginary. And you go on being indignant with other people for being subject to a thing you know to be imaginary. In short you know it to be only a notion, a concept, and yet you continue to think of it as real.
One: But if I am cross, and I am, what is it that is feeling like that if it is not my ego that is still there in spite of my knowledge that it is not?
The Other: Face fact, face facts! If it is not there - how can it be cross? Or offended? Or anything else imaginable?
One: But I am cross, furious.
The Other: Nonsense. You are not anything. That is only an act you are putting on. You are playing a part - and attributing your reactions to an imaginary ego. Crossness, or any other emotional reaction, is only coloring-matter you add to affectivity. You are blowing bubbles and giving them names and attributes. When they burst you will know them for what they are - just passing deflections of reality in your mind.
One: Although I know the ego is not a reality, I am still behaving as though it were. Still assuming it, still thinking of it, still attributing my reactions to it. yes, I am. But do not we all? What does it add up to?
The Other: The number you first thought of; zero. Intellectual understanding without assimilation is the frame without the picture.
One: How does one insert a picture?
The Other: I said the picture. The canvas is now covered by your highly-colored emotional imaginings. Perfection is attained, as St. Exupery pointed out, not when there is nothing more to add, but when there is nothing more to discard.
One: We should suppress our emotional reactions?
The Other: If you could, it would only produce the effect known as psychic traumatism.
One: So what?
The Other: We are now discussing the elementary confusion between mental vacancy and the void that is plenitude. Correct attention, supra-sensual affectivity, are uncolored by emotional reactions. That is the picture which is no picture, within the frame that is no longer a frame.
One: Can any ordinary chap do that?
The Other: Why not? There is nothing to do. It is there already, always, the only permanent and immutable aspect of what you are.
One: But how does one get at it?
The Other: You say that you are cross. As the Maharshi told you to do - ask yourself, who is cross? And what is "cross" anyhow? You will see at once that there is nothing anywhere that could be cross, and no such thing as crossness. Bubbles calling one another names! Prick them. Bang, (imaginary bang of imaginary bubbles), and they have vanished! What is left?
One: Correct attention, supra-sensual affectivity, pure as light, transparent as light, just - awareness!
The Other: At last you have understood! Let us start afresh: Good Morning. How are you?
One: I am. And you?
The Other: As cross as one stick!

-Why Lazarus Laughed

right brain left brain

every so often i suddenly become aware that twhe greatest gifts i receive come from a part of my self that i have never been directly aware of the mind of, or perhap

*a week passes*

i've just finished a long discussion with my friend about the nature of self and the final conclusion i came to (what got me to stop disagreeing with him) was the following:
logic and creativity are indistinguishable

so, the part of my self that i have never been made directly aware of (by my self, presumably) is the creative "half" of my brain - i'm pretty sure i've got logic reasonably pinned down (logic may be the process of pinning things down) - so, what i thought i was missing was creativity. i know that it's there, but i'm not aware of its exact nature - perhaps because it doesn't have one? you can say that things are created from other things, but how can any original creation come from a thing identical to itself? so, true creation is original. perhaps creation is the picture that fills the space that logic pins down?

k that's it