One body coming to another in silence allows communion,

a melodious way of living,

a bubbling up inside a thing rightly called love.

 By reason of images created in our brains are we taken out of our very own lives to always be dying. On the other side of death lies our real life we are taught to believe. We call it Paradise or Heaven or the like. Or reincarnation. Life has become a stage upon which we prepare for it, like in a rehearsal. It is the Pinocchio story we experience in an illusion of our own making. Real life escapes us. Real life is unknown to the illusion.

When two meet and fall in love, each with the image of the other, there is no love. It is called love by the images but it is concern for an image and that is not love. That false brand of love is the image of love not the fact of love. It is like we fall in love with the image of love not anything real.

 Love, a living thing, comes to no conclusion, not ever. It is there like scent in a flower. When self concern ends love remains.  Love may seem to come and to go but it is self concern that comes and goes. It seems love abandons us at its own whim but we abandon love with self concern. If I want to be naked but keep trying on clothes I can imagine the absence of nakedness as a loss. A man said to me “ I want to be free but I feel no sense of freedom”. The greatest freedom I know about is the discovery “I have never really loved anybody or anything. I have been most concerned about myself and have been calling it love.” At that point one can find that love is there. Cleaning is a negative process. One does not add cleanliness to a bathtub, one removes the dirt and exposes cleanliness that is there. Love is found in the same way. Self concern is that dirt. Love is a living thing.

 Following some years of careful consideration I am gonna make a bold statement 

When a human being accepts a position of authority over even one other person as say a professional; uhh, a short list would be as a teacher, preacher, business executive, lawyer, doctor, or a commissioned artist;  that person better be careful every step of the way. I did that. I know. Listen to your heart’s own question- “Hey, Man, what are they buying from you, really?” 

At some point the answer will come crystal clear. Those are wolves in sheep’s clothing and even they do not know it. They are bidding for my soul. They know something about people. They know that by owning my soul they will pay me hundreds of thousands a year today and make for themselves billions. That is a real unequal bargain. Take the case of a lawyer for example. Slowly but surely that job will become “just how far will you go to keep me?” Same is true for them all. If the person is not at all times clear the result will shock even him or her. You know what I mean.  

You may wonder why I include a commissioned artist in my list, well, it’s because that decision is placing the artist at odds within himself just as is the case with the others on the list. Anyone at odds within himself is going to be confused in the conflict.  It divides the artist in the same way as it divides the judge or the preacher. The person’s intelligence will gradually diminish so long as the conflict within continues. Faulty decisions will pile up. Now, I also want to add that Woody Guthrie is a model for that as an artist.  He refused to be work for the do-re- mi. Just a popular example. Consider: can I work for the dollar and what it represents for me and those I call my family and at the same time work for the singer in the song of my heart? Which is the most reliable employer? It may be an uncomfortable question to someone but that discomfort stems entirely from our conceit.  If anyone can rid himself of conceit then the answer to the question will be clear. All depends upon the level of the human being’s sincere yearning to know whether conceit can be obliterated never to return. That is the real work. Not the defined position of authority over others. Can I be rid of my conceit for good?

I am reminded of an old joke. Once a clever man was very much desiring to sleep with a particular woman. He asked her “would you go to bed with me for a million dollars?” Laughing,  the woman replied,  “I’d think about it; but, no, I would not not!” So, the clever man asked her, “Would you sleep with me for half a million dollars? “No” was her answer. Well then would you do it for say 100,000 dollars? “No.”  “How about fifty dollars then?”  “Are you crazy? Just who do you think you are talking to?”  “LOOK, LADY, WE HAVE ALREADY ESTABLISHED THAT AND WE ARE NOW JUST HAGGLING OVER THE PRICE.”

It boils down to: if a man or woman wakes up in slavery nothing else matters but 

 freedom.

 We need to tell a new story, no, it is more deep than that, we need to cease the practice of telling a story altogether. The main character in the stories we tell is “My self”, a non-reality. That non-reality  is our ideal image. Or, our punching bag every time we fail to achieve that poor non-reality’s ideal image. Self is the source of constant internal conflict. Stories about it only strengthen the superstition it is real. Even if I purport to tell a story about another I am really telling only about my self. It is possible once caught in the illusion to tell a story that will end stories. Such a thing clears up a lot of confusion and wastage of time and energy. That, of course, results in a large pool of both energy and intelligence to make action pure and way more effective. The story that ends stories reaches into the realm of indivisibility. Attempts to divide or separate the indivisible are mental tricks that are tearing the world of man apart everywhere on Earth. When I tell a story I am observing something that is not separate from me. I am the observed. 

I learned recently the word "individual" for centuries after its origin meant "indivisible". Literally, that makes sense. What cannot be divided is individual. Suddenly, at a point a few centuries back it started to be used to mean  someone who has "separate" interests, aspirations, or needs. In other words, it has come to be used to divide the indivisible. It is separation of me from the rest of you and separation of the indivisible internally into many contradictory parts or aspects. That is really stupid. Man, that has caused more sorrow for humans than can be measured. Isolation is killing us. It can be ended.

 All troubles come not from who I am 

but from trying to be something I am not. That is a mouthful. 

It destroys controversy. And there are no ways that will work to bring about a cure from false life. Any effort to do so is bound to be the effort of the imposter I am not and only fortify its position as my identity. 

Ultimately, people have tried to attach the false self to a Higher Power also created by mental suggestion from other false selves to the false self. Notice how even organized religions are promising to send the false person to Heaven after the poor chap or gal dies. Some Heaven filled with false abstractions must be a strange place indeed.

This condition is so terrible it is tearing the world of human beings apart. For that reason it is a crisis. A crisis cries out for help. Save me!

Complete negation is a start. Seeing the trap I am in without the slightest effort to escape the condition is difficult for the greatest humility is required but it may be just enough so that the miraculous, (love it may be although the word has lost all meaning in a world of human machines) the fact of love, dissolves the false human machine mercifully in the present moment so the one who is living a conditioned life can know true existence, as it is, without calling it by a name or describing it as an observer expecting congratulations would do. The train to reality takes on board no pretend passengers arriving for another hoped-for pretend life. A still mind knows.

 Tell me if this be not so-

Quicker than the law can arrest, convict, and imprison or exterminate troublemakers the society it is meant to protect will have created more of them than ever. It is a losing proposition. Always has been; but that has not stopped we fools from trying harder as things grow worse.

Why is this the way? It is easier? We are in the habit? We are blind to the obvious? Or, could it simply be that the source of troublemakers and the sorrows they cause is the selfishness you and me have lived by and we are so afraid to admit it?  Is the fear that to admit that we need to end selfishness means we will become NOTHING and we are terrified of being NOTHING?

Suppose with me that NOTHING is who we are? Wouldn’t that be funny? It will become much funnier when we all find out NOTHING is SOMETHING and SOMETHING is NOTHING AT ALL. If not sooner, folks, ladies and gentlemen, than on the day we die, on that day will it all become crystal clear to us. By and bye.

My name it is nothing.

My age it means less. 

God has the last laugh.

Inseparable am I from wilderness.

It’s not too late for us all to shape up our thinking to fit Another Plan…together as one.