Wednesday, April 30, 2014

some teachers teach

some teachers teach there is nothing to teach and everything to unteach, others layer the mind with so much that it implodes from the inside as the hierarchies finally collapse under their own weight. there is nothing, that is the order of the lessons, there is nothing, everything you experience is made up and you live in a mental time loop that exists a few microseconds in the past so much so that you cannot experience now.so stopping that dependency on the past is the first order, to let go the mind, unstopper the sink and let the thoughts flow out before they can be contained. don't examine the contents, turn on the universal garbage disposal and turn everything into mush, undifferentiated sludge and relax, open that drain and go down with it. there is nothing to save or be saved. Jed McKenna would say that's it, that's the end right there, the perfect teaching, the only page needed to start the spiritual autolysis, then its just a matter of running the disposal until there's nothing left but the spinning , then turn that off and you're done. Richard Rose would encourage the examination and critical necessity of the process, use that doubt and disbelief as the rotors of the disposal. but both would agree that what's left after everything is insinkerated is the truth, and if you can just be that then you're finished with life at this level and ready for whatever comes next, having disorganized the consciousness from this level of compaction and opened up the receptors to whatever comes after without any expectation. here is where the Buddhists encourage compassion, for everyone else is in the mad delusion of human life and cannot stop the madness.in you is a deluded nature that is a memory that creates a nostalgia for the feelings that used to overwhelm you as one of the inmates of the asylum, and you miss that sense of being wrapped up in the outcomes of life and its empty delights and unfulfilling successes and defeats. instead, nothing holds the vital, it remains unmoved as the play unfolds around you, without you, and you get written out of the scenarios one by one until, its just the solitary being in the act of existing. in the world everyday, but not grasping it to act as the purpose for existing, but rather as the scenarios that create more layers of inbred delusion in the inmates of the theater of the absurd. all is self created by the self for the self and has no weight in the world that evolves beyond the self.

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