Nebulae Bred

This is a territorial dispute in vancouver. The crows have been crossing the bridges, trying to find solace in the lighter places. The seagulls are not happy. They tear at the crows. The pigeons are as innocent and resilient as ever. They're quite beautiful in their own way. I like to watch them. I like to see them unconsciously organize themselves in patterns that they don't understand, but don't need to understand. I find their conscious confusion of the world to be adorable and endearing. They take care of eachother when they can, and while in some ways they may be covered in filth, their core is innocent. I also find the noise that they make to be quite soothing.

Whereabouts unknown, The tail end of the serpent, Where light must meet dark

Knowledge from my dad, In the soil of the garden, Where my dao blossoms.

haHA! Thought I was crazy, or broken, for a while there. Stumbled upon this video: Realized I've been developing this subconscious..sense? essence? being?, this part of myself for years, now. I used to be obsessed with the notion of genius and intelligence. I thought that the only people with value were those that were the most intelligent, as they were the one's who kept moving humanity 'forward,' while the rest of us were dead weight. Mind you, i've matured much since then. Thank god. But the result of this is that where my conscious mind failed to recognize these intelligent aspects of myself, my subconscious mind would take over. In conversations I would say something that only after a few seconds of thought I would realize was actually very witty. I'd always refer to these moments as 'subconscious treats.' So i've been peripherally aware of this phenomena in myself for a while. Another manifestation i've found of it's existence is the fact that I have a keen sense of intuition, something that i've now attributed to this larger mind of mine. I realize that i'm growing more and more spontaneous as I explore and exercise my consciousness. And that spontaneity is helping me in ways that always have amazing payoffs. I think that this is part of what i've been learning to surrender too. As I grow in mind and body and spirit, as I 'mature', I will be able to trust my true self more and more. I think that today i'm going to meditate on this, and find the joy in my own presence. I hope you all have an amazing week

I'll start! I've got a gDocs file called "aborted blueprints" where I archived some poetry fodder and drafts during a very long episode of depression (spanning about a decade and a half). I'll dump them here. Also, the reason the theme of memes comes up so much is because I was exploring the role of memes in the evolution of psychology, at the time. I still think that they're fascinating to study. Memes and Archetypes are so similar yet their roles can vary so much. Very fascinating. Untitled: If only the world would be like us, if only fear and shame could be so easily erased. Then we would no longer have to see him. So that everything could be without his name, without the fear that anchors us with its utterance. If only we could lock away the past like the other relics we leave in our wake, so that everything about him could be forgotten. If only he could hold up the sky, if only his shadow could choke out the light. Then we could finally fight for what’s right. If only, so that we could destroy everything. If only we could stain in blood the world he built in his image, and watch the ruins decay. Then we could build towards brighter days. Brighter and equal days full of rainbows rendered in dull grays. If only the world were like us, imperfect and prone to predators and pray. If only the world could be infinite between two ends, black and white, and night and day, and immune to truth and reason and greed and agendas. If only the world weren’t what it is. If only it were not painted to us through the eyes of mortals. -- As time forks and the sun blazes the night away, On bent knees we pray to invisible days, We worship the things that can no longer be, Flock from the church of shattered dreams. I think it had something to do with depression and my counter-arguments to modern feminism from the point of view from someone who's pretty politically neutral. Up next, is Vancouver, Depressed: Vancouver; depressed Grey roads reflect a somber sky, rain drags the grief of the clouds from above, The city is in mourning, its anguish soaks me. Its scope chokes me. Grey roads vast as rivers, winding convoluted circuits through open ended cities, That seldom sees rest through the day and night, Time stands a distorted channel, Feeding on itself as the lights follow paths paved for efficiency, Inorganic and inconsequential. Above, satellites shine bright, eclipse of the starry night, we paint the heavens. This one is untitled: Virtual Ideas as vast as worlds, virtual vampires breeding, morphing, evolving a life of their own; carrying their human host to its own bloody end; a suicide by contemplation twisted by instinct, turned to greed, wearing the patchwork remains of a lie called virtue. Eclectic minds project decrypted faces for decrypted faces, cryptic noise, random generations, a trapped generation. Lions prostrate to pigs, encumbering isolation, craving depth and fearing the deep, vast dread at higher volumes, silent voices silencing voices. Parabolic apotheosis, drifting aluminum glared at through the blinking eyes of the firmament. New divinity in the realm of gods. Their faces; a projection of grayscale noise, faulty mechanisms and bisected gears grind away, preening and perfecting itself for malevolent ends. I wrote this one when I was feeling suicidal: Those memetic seeds didn’t seem to grow quite right, their roots are a nightmare to behold. A gruesome, twisted sight they sketch, such horrid creatures do they mould. the contemplating world behind those eyes, with such contempt does it hold, this putrid, pathetic, parasite who dared to see himself whole. Like a butterfly, he thought, he just needs to molt and spread his wings to stop the oncoming storm that led it so far away. But it only took a minute for him to catch a glimpse of the truth, a distorted, terrifying vista that only serves to prove, that he hadn’t just become his worst enemy, he’d started out that way. Time had led him to his current state, with a dark shade of melancholy, becoming self-hate. Logic seems to dictate that what’s happened is set in stone, actions have no returns, the consequence you must own. The rest of the document is a morbid short story that I think I'll keep buried. Gruesome. But here's an excerpt: "Oh, the quiet. Glorious silence, now flowing like a silk river through his cooling corpse. Glory like an orchestral climax, i beheld. The way the noise in his mind faded as his eyes glazed; remnants of his terror in a struggle for survival. I did it for the quiet that came after. There was no rush of the hunt, nor trophy for some game. It was for the relief that came with absolute quiet. The final relief. The neighbour’s dog was next. And that neighbour soon after. That was only the beginning. I’m not bidding for any redemption, mind you. This is more of a user’s guide than a confession. I’d seen the silence on the other side, now. And framed in that silence was the wake of the image of me, teeth bared, eyes cold, and blood spilt by both my own hands and others before me. Enough blood to drown in for lifetimes. For an all-consuming quiet, so total that my very thoughts are silenced. Where I can’t even hear myself breathe. It is not evil. It does not hate, and as its vessel I did not hate. I only served as a part of it, a cell in a vast organism. I’ve watched you, seeker. I’ve seen the look you get in your eyes as you piece together the ashes of my past in order to find out who I am. But you could never know. I hated keeping that from you. I hated that you could not understand the serenity that lies in the quiet. So I’ve decided to give you everything. After taking so much life, I’ll finally be able to know the quiet for myself. Like all things, this comes with a cost, my life for yours. A pittance. Pocket change. The loss of ephemeral chaos for the eternal order of Nothing. I want that, peace for all time and beyond time. Beautiful. See, I know what it’s like to be obsessed, seeker. We’re not as different as you think." I found writing that out to be very cathartic at the time. Anyone have anything they'd like to share?

I would like to order one(1) brand-spanken-new PPD page, please and thank you!

I was watching a Hardcore pit the other day and the dancing reminded me a lot of shamanic dynamic meditation. A lot of emotional release in that.

Hey, welcome and thanks for opening up about your journey.

I am what I am Spirit animating dust, Born of stellar clouds

Reviving and hijacking this thread. Let's appreciate some of the beauty produced by metal and rock, specifically the progressive genre's I believe there is much to be learned from music. (Spoiler, the following one is a bit heavier and might not be up your alley. The band, Rivers of Nihil, produces concept albums that follow a narrative. This album deals with the very long term consequences of immortality. It's fictional, and if you find yourself a bit confused regarding what the lyrics are saying, remember that this song has a story behind it and you're only hearing a small part of it. But it's good fodder for thinking if you read the lyrics and follow, and feel the flow of, the instrumentals).

Any recommended literature/media on emptiness?

>letting go This is also a phrase that comes to my mind when I think about it. I've still got lots of work ahead of me. Thanks for the welcome and the good wishes

Thank you for clarifying that for me. You're right that they are different. However, I do not see the two as mutually exclusive concepts. Is there not an element of surrender to the uncertainty of the future, and a surrender to the possibility of infallibility?

I saw a youtube video of some prodigal-child-turned-mountain-hermit, who survived two months without food while his cultivation cave was covered ice. He seemed relatively young. Probably in his 30's or 40's. He said something that inspired me. He said, and I'm paraphrasing and probably butchering the quote, something along the lines of "...I was lead [here] by my way..." It connected a few dots for me. It made me realize what it meant to cultivate behavior. This is my current, long-term goal with surrender. To be lead by my Way.