the ego world

Is it that in the regular world—the ego world—wanting something too much generally makes it very hard to get? And if you do get it, is it soon replaced by something else you must have? So for the ego, does the carrot on a stick go on until the end of a lifetime?

Does working consistently with a daily practice ease the way for the biggest of things to arrive unannounced and without a struggle?

Does the wise and supporting mystery already ride the wave of my being in whatever direction it goes without judgment?

Must there be regular periods of relaxation combined with non thinking with no purpose except to be fed by the fountain of the present?

shark attack

Are words tools to be tossed aside from time to time — to adventure, to seek by ceasing to seek, to see the wisdom in relaxing the body and mind and floating in the silence and breathing it in and out and then being it by realizing it’s already the case.

Shark attack
Shark attack
Shark attack

O well.

Is it adios Mr or Ms Identity because I was found guilty of hiding the mystery or will there be no one to judge so might I get to come back for guest appearances and more? Is the deal that there’s no deal? Are there no words?

Is it total surrender on purpose? Is it the who who’s afraid to stop the flow of words? Why are thoughts automatic? Can their automaticity be stopped or controlled?

Is it that the universe that spawned me and gives me life might be enticed into giving up a taste of the deep unspeakable awareness? What if I have to have more than just a taste?

the ultimate player piece

Imagine, the being led by me. Go here — think this — go there — do that — I’ll wait here. Is it I who is blocking the way and am I the key, the game, the ultimate player piece?

Is a first-generation-only religion a religion that cannot be passed to anyone living now or in the future? If so, is it because it has no doctrines or beliefs? Is this because the religious part can’t be put into words but can create them? Did it create a four letter alphabet that eventually created my ride and then my ride created me?

Is it that I can get assistance and direction but in the end I have to function as my own Christ or Buddha?


Is my purpose to learn how to experience moments of deep awareness and relaxation and is this an exciting and momentous start but doesn’t the actual doing have a thousand and one escape hatches? Will my being fail if I don’t find a way to make myself available to silence? Is failure the normal way? Is it that the being only responds and doesn’t win or lose?

Do I really take credit for being able to hear and smell and see and think and touch and digest and reason and love? I choose and claim to feel and understand and know. Isn’t this enough? Isn’t this a dream ride? What’s the purpose to it all? Is one purpose a hide and seek game with existence? Is this the deepest game?

Sensing and no words?

Must I ride knowingly the big now to be truly complete? Or is the big now just a bonus, a perk that has to be uncovered? Is understanding combined with work, a path?

fear mechanism

What risk is there of surrendering now to the completely neutral creative force that made me? Is this my body’s greatest and hidden wonder?

Have I created an automatic fear mechanism that keeps me as the most important thing?
It may be normal but is it good and will the adventure of dying, when I go on it, be a short one?

Will my dying thought be, “This I could have gotten used to”? If I’m living with regret why die with it too?

dream pancake

Is this the way of a singular religion where there are only memberships of one — a constantly blooming single that’s expressing the whole?

Do I belong completely and don’t know it?
Do I belong and don’t experience or realize it?
Am I a member and have paid my dues but can’t find my membership card?

Am I a dream pancake that always finds its way upward and out of the stomach and never yields to the bizarre and risky adventure of being digested by the mystery?

word clouds

At bottom, is a belief a type of dream? Are beliefs word clouds that rain upon me without end, yet aren’t some of them pointing to an inexpressible creative energy, to something beyond belief? Is the real beyond belief?

Is this stable but changing moment all there is? Is time a stationary but moving target? Is it that the past and future can only exist in the nowness that’s so large it can’t be conceived of yet so small it can’t be measured?

Is it that I can’t know the mystery using any of my thoughts, so should I try to see if I can know it directly without using words?