The garden as such should never be organized. For the same reason 

a man should resist all attempts from outside to organize his way. 

We must be who we are if we hope to understand in the language of 

all things. To fail in this is great loss.

Who Cares?

I care yet I may rebuff you.

I care yet I may snuff you.

I care yet I may neglect you.

I care yet do not always respect you.

I care yet I may deny you.

I care yet in some ways I hog tie you.

I care yet I may betray you.

I care yet may waylay you.

I care yet I discount you.

I care yet I renounce you.

I care yet often forget you.

I who care pretend I never met you.

Let's start o'er-

I don't care yet no one comes before you.

I don't care yet I adore you.

I don't care yet never lie to you.

I don't care yet I would die for you.

We're like this- a bunch of goofballs riding on a spaceship we named Earth at tremendous speed having begun an adventure beyond all imagining by dedication to the courageous process of learning to crawl now dreaming of building and piloting spaceships to travel to other spaceships since we have neglected and abused this once pristine blue one and want a new start away from those we view as troublemakers hoping to leave them behind...and they are us.

Only a person who finds it in himself to resolve all problems from the truth of his existence will know what he was born to do. While one depends on any others for safety and direction and the dollars to pay for his needs one remains crippled, sad, lonely and dissatisfied. All one needs is in storage safely awaiting delivery to you by the hands of everybody you meet as if by magic at the exact right moment in time. You know that. You knew it at the beginning.

You doubt what you know because you are haunted by ghosts placed in your mind to lead you to depend upon society, the total ghost, for all your needs from cradle to grave. And beyond. (Although there is no evidence society has more than a story for that one.) It has pills and donuts and dirty pictures and toys that break and all the rest, though. You will not want for a thing, it is said. Sign up. Then call the police or fire department or insurance companies or one of the other many friendly government offices or a church or the military industrial complex into your problems to solve them for you. All of your many enemies surround you now. Get help. Fight cancer. To fight it you are going to need experts and we have plenty. Cancer hates you and is trying to kill you. Do you believe that? Sign up.

What bullshit!

All the named enemies you fear, all and every one of them, are but illusions. That is so. Rattlesnakes do not want to bite you. That is the last thing they want to do. You are not on their menu. Taste awful. Tough. Anyway, they need to conserve the venom. So, they warn you before they strike. Do you know even one human friend who will do that for you? No sir. Other humans warn you only when they have no intention of striking...yet. When they decide to kill they strike from ambush and with greater numbers and more weapons than you.

In the human realm the only enemies you have are the result of one of your ghosts having provoked one of theirs. The only war is the one constant war in the ghost world (world of the total ghost) you believe you inhabit because you now are the ghosts placed in your mind in combination. That is what doctors treat so they promote its actuality and your fear of it. The doctors are as crazy as your (and their) ghosts permit them to be. The moment you decide to call off the ghosts in your head and order them to cease provoking neighboring ghosts, you will know peace. It is not as easy as it sounds. In fact it is much, much harder than to continue to believe in ghosts. But it is great.

Oh, that is what you were born to do. And, you knew it at the beginning.

Your  real interests are success and power. 

You are at war with yourself. 

Why all these guards at the temples and airports? 

When will it end?  

The answer is blowing in the wind which tells that it will end for each one who responds to inner truth. When all are at peace war will end by itself.

I Am Serious

Here we are in this great puss pimple of a garbage heap hanging out with these freaks and we do not know what for,

saying everything else has got to go!

It happens.

Nobody knows why.

Suffocation perhaps.

One stands and is joined by

a few more.

Suddenly a movement is underway that no power on Earth can withstand. What was nowhere is the world's headquarters for a spell. What a spell!

And it is over.

Did anybody learn a thing? Not really. But somebody made another killing.

Fashion.

I am looking for another who sees what I see. Are you there? Out there? Anywhere? I am Billy the Kid's alias step brother. No credentials. I heard a minstrel who is different. Calling into a vacuum of dark cold space that was my heart until it warmed and began to ache for unknown existence in a language never heard before. It calls for anything but what is the current style of dress and conduct. Misconduct. It says any fashion will do. To accommodate everybody. There is a language in every language that is understood by all. There is a voice which sounds out souls. Souls are formless realities that give every form its such-ness. Like the dialog of a play does to actors. Do not confuse the symbols for the sincere dialog, a formless wave. Waves without form need love in order to make cookies we can actually eat. When we speak to another we wave their being. In ignorance, we wave it wrong and they retaliate. In truth, with a low voice, love's voce, we wave it perfectly. Harmony happens. I used the word love. Nobody knows what that means. It springs from the unknowable. To un know. A word that is unknown is fresh. Is always out of fashion. It is better left undefined for it is not its meaning we want but its unapprehended nonmeaning-ness which gives sight to sore eyes. I am wispy filament and I am serious.

END OF TAPE

The investigation is complete and the treasure found and the treasure is simple. Humans come to Earth with the profound inside them, all of it. Priests were invented when the attempt was made to extract the profound from its source and pretend it needs to be taught, making it the subject of special Holy Men or Women. Ever since, people have blindly accepted the situation described in books as if asleep. Priests' first job is to hypnotize victims into believing God ordained them to serve this way. Look close and you will see. It has always been priests ordaining priests.

But, even the most dedicated atheists have been so hypnotized. They are closer to truth because at least they do not follow priests. However, they are robbed of the divinity in their breasts as much as the hypnotized believers based on their strong and justified mistrust of the religious who shout, heresy! We all got robbed.

If you see a scene wherein a man and woman embrace and kiss in a way that causes a special feeling to arise in you and you have to name what you saw and you name it love you may try to teach others to love each other. You cannot. Do you not see that? It, what you observed, was in the people, not separate from them. Any attempt to separate it and deal with the abstract notion you believe you have found is madness which ruins something exquisite which remains at home in the hearts of us all. If you wish love for others do the obvious...love them.

Art is an inseparable quality of each human being to evolve its own beautiful way. Love is an art. Life is an art. Once understood, one automatically drops the names, life and love and art and simply and genuinely accepts what is. The feeling is peace. Once that is understood, one drops the term peace. The attempt to separate parts of what cannot be separated by naming them and then dealing with them as abstract notions you believe you have discovered is madness.

And it is the crude treatment science uses to understand something by cutting it apart and examining the parts. For instance, there is no such thing as agriculture. What you have called up until now, learning, is a substitution of fantasy for reality. All and every so-called helping profession is a form of madness. Little wonder they have such tragic effects on those they purport to serve. Rather than violently slice, chop and hack up art, decide to serve it. In so doing, you will rediscover lost abilities to know all about yourself and others in a new way of life that works!

Some time it's best to feel all alone…

gotta feel somethin' like that when you bo'n...

Some time it's best to be out on your own

jus' hands, a voice, an' skin an' bone

Nobody needs a suit to put upon

an' nobody needs his name carved on stone

What's yer name, boy?

Got nu'n

Let's go, Got Nu'n.

William Blake wrote all this better than me a long time ago. Most called him crazy. About here is when it pays to be crazy.