First of all, what is meant by learning? I am not offering an opinion, I am looking at the fact. Is learning a process of accumulation of knowledge? From that knowledge I act; that is, I have stored up experiences, memories, and from that I act. Or, is learning a constant process without accumulation and therefore learning is acting? Go slowly, I’ll go into it. It is not that I first learn and then act according to what I have learnt, but learning is acting; the learning is not separate from acting.
One is going to learn about fear, or about what to do, how to live. But if you have a system that tells you how to live, or a method that says, “Live this way”, then you are conforming to the method which is established by somebody else. Therefore you are not learning, you are conforming and acting according to a pattern, which is not action at all, it is just imitation. So if you learn what are the implications of methods, or of systems, then you will put away methods and systems; then you are learning about what you are doing and the very learning about life is the activity of life – right? Have I made it clear? Living, learning and acting are not three separate things, they are indivisible.
Every single night I pray;
my letters form a kiss.
IT blows through the wind, until it rests upon lips.
A metamorphosis that the butterflies imagine,
in an undecided fashion, when weather storms permit.
She settles scores with this and I just sit enchanted;
fireflies dance, until her wish is granted.
I listen frantic, to melodies of heartbreak.
IT feels so temporary, but she’s telling me IT’s always.
I’d die in hell, so my angel’s not alone.
And I’d swim in the mud, for a fatal drop of hope.
I dance to the chorus when the rain hits the solitude.
IT breaks into molecules; that’s her.
Another piece of me, that feels but can’t hurt.
I stand firm, in this apocalyptic breeze.
Until I finally fall apart and my confidence is breached;
And I’m gone..
Hear the sounds of a thousand broken spirits;
a man who wouldn’t lie and a crowd who won’t endear it.
Confessions of a clown that’s sounding so sincere,
when forced to always face the ground.
I wrote it down in quotes and lyrics.
I’ve got a ghost, but he never stays in touch.
Another hole to dig and another grave to love;
another fifth is gone, another day that sucks.
Another dream is dead as the summer fades to dusk.
No I in me.
Straightened out while the skeleton spun scripture in stone.
All I heard was the moon.
Can’t interpret or understand flow, unless you know
the misty, mystic condensation of clouds;
gravity must be joking, as the sky begins to change.
I spread intuit, breathing electrical words in a vertebrae circle;
concentrating data while I download IT into the system.
Mind erasing, I’m tasting thoughts and smelling what you hear;
like it, like it ravages.
They stole my metal exoskeleton while
I walked out of sunlight into your darker dimension.
Two inches from the granite, I had to grab and grit.
Manage till you stand in your metabolism,
Un-limits of my super-conscious melon,
mango squeezes cold silver into gold.
I’m chiseled on the side of the moon.
The star spoke,
and even galaxies empty and crash like car collisions.
Whistling heavy tunes because of piercing wounds,
I tilt and turn soul across the molded earth before IT is one big radioactive hole.
In the underground city,
rat swarms roll downhill like, hold it down and kill or be killed.
The drunken man laughs in the street with beautiful hysteria.
If you do not cling to appearances, appearances will not cling to you. If you are not obsessed with anything, nothing will hold you. If you do not mind anything, nothing will mind you. If you do not focus on any sensations, no sensations will focus on you.
When sense data does not enter, the senses are pure; form, sensation, conception, conditioning, and consciousness are all empty. Then, both ordinary and extraordinary perceptive capacities become complete and possible. When you reach this point, the senses perform each other’s functions and the whole body becomes an eye. Mundanities end, and the whole being is purely celestial. Essence and life are both complete, and one merges with the Tao in reality.
This is called acquiescence in beginninglessness
A shiver in cold water; nerves tingle.
Fish swim by and slimy scales tickle.
A small rock pierces and pinches until
water’s edge impacts a reaction.
Grass and dirt fly into the air and
water splashes everywhere.
Soon I leap to shore, to find wet clothes are
torn and worn to shreds from branches near the waters edge.
Flat rock, baked hot in sun, warms to scalding touch.
wet socks on sun baked rocks, steam into the air.
Still water’s light, gleams beneath the steam.
A smell of trees and fresh rain reminds that
I have to keep moving.