June & the summer road apparitions proliferate

^^^^Krshnamurti's definition of meditation develops the point about attention, and not persisting on creating stronger focus. Thought content is trappings of frustrations and incomplete resignation on self-preservation--so content is not important. To reference thought w/any value statement is barbed w/his correct sense of the problem of escape unique to one's social-ego constraint. In Amongst White Clouds, a monk relates When he needs apparel--the demand of weather and health, clothes crawl upon his humble frame. Needs aren't invented, but are fulfilled precipitiously--the world, the path meet him. There is no yawn of distances to imagine relationship--instead the numinous and experiential are immanent (remains within!).

The Observer


The Observer is the extinguisher of the freedom...

occuring in mediacy, it doesn't matter according to its content.

What sublimates the Meaning of Outward Fact? What conveys our graduation (all mediate) to Awakening.

Religion?


Never flourishing in a temptor's face

Never in declination ill-contained & heavy,

prioritizing what is good for Meditation.

So, Gandhi's definition is Self-Actualization.

Dogma--this rhetoric of any intensified-transition
(we want revolution or revelation)
as it speaks to mischief abated,
just means lethargy in its legs to compel me.

I'm not typically assertive that way--ambition is only to relate, and the bread of self-knowledge has consequence and eternality to contend with.


Discipline frames nature

--nature aborts nothing

temporal=breath respiring
(waves and conditions... )

'A burning in my chest and in my lungs'

Freedom is clearly unique

--timeless--

no space in the comport between You and the Catharsist

--and stripped of its descriptors like still waters unimpressed by its deluge victim...

^#~~Reading Jack Kerouac, his first book, makes reflection--memory 'flect, things in shoals of night myth made in this case thru Trees' imagery again developing in fields of opportunity. How covetous minds are in the "million" leaves in sway, trees with a million coves to hide the ephemeral: my changes are literally nothing in the remonstrated day's long ends having only light-play to appertain tree presence--vital, observing, and earth's delivery of fractal awe. In Krshnamurti's To Himself, the underwhelm of tree's boughs but nigh in his meditation, keeps me in tight reigns that the dialect & thought transpiring goes one way...one is just appreciating the whiling arc of the sun as the lesson of other revolves within everytime, just within--it--the tree--does not congratulate its terrestrial associate.

^#~~Feeling the day's elements; languid in the garage. Summer seems the decisor at once then gone. Wish I was in the Catskills, that hideaway--those bungalows, across Casten st all up in the country by the blueberry patches--wholly regular in t...hese woods. Cool streams evading trafficked shitty city, I-man go to the mt. top!
I remember being up in NY w/your brother when we were around 15yrs old. Sitting here with only a handful of times in between brings on memoria in full effect!! My nephews and I would amble thru the forest, they'd smoke--making me feel a strange cause, even esoteric as in how consciousness narrows into semi-ecstatic contrivances. Here there's no tree boughs making umbrella canopy, sharding light and polygons obfuscating distances looking at its ground reception, but smoke philo-heady and retrieved just now makes Ky weather Other & available.

^#~~It is the big things, we answer for, that destroy intuition. Focus on a diminutive cause. The means are always letter permutations--analytic meditation, as recommended by his Holiness the Dalai Lama, for disambiguation to allay traduced passions, and to tether one to the Truth. The doctrinaire society however bound to integrity for their success, protects it at the cost of the praxis of awakening.
^#~~In death or in life, water ought to be our incarnation. It IS merciful, has all the attributes of Eternality. Heaven is thought of as a fountain..."blue, blue windows behind the stars." N Young*
And what is unique upon earth is ancestor revival mischief, but thru his/her source-=-messages showering us with rainy meaning. Its flowing mysterium makes the easily defined ubiquity as it posits the air the sun the buena vista, looks gravid when, say, a stream is met with a recent deluge--a pregnant translucent surface contrives this quality.

^#~~If one is at the peak of his/her experience, it may be when most crowd consciousness is left at bay. In R. Gere's book called Pilgrims, a Nepalese monk is asked of his perspective in light of the physical success the Outward Fact sublimates the acolyte: He says It is All Ego! Rather, what was simply asked was What is the answer in all endeavor toward self-actualization.


Last night I came up w/ a sense that the Observer is the extinguisher of freedom. Men seem emergent from space, where as women seem to refine Time as a pilgrimage thru space. If memorialized space has convenient thresholds where the intermediary is effective in man's need for a Roof (Rastas chant I need a Roof in Old Testament verity.), just as within a dream, had we looked, Mind is always predominant behind the drawn curtains enveloping our anthropos evol!!! Man hunts the provocateur of consciousness impulses--and one usually orients himself to what is the most evident, and most accessible moment of release...