The Philosopher

[Gem]

From formlessness, a state of mind, a dream was inspired and a man came forth to see what lies there. He turned to his God and said, this has no centre and it has no ends.

The man both perpetuated that thought as he did hear it spoken, and it's indellible etching was sealed in the priori informal. He became the seer and rested, not in the lap of God, and not in the realm of his thought, but between them, and as the vessle of knowledge of both, he remained mysterious to himself.

As he was the vessle of knowledge, too he was the channel through which the outpouring of awareness flowed; himself having neither centre nor boundries; just as that state of mind.

Through him came the infinite purity of love, of himself, of his God and of whatever might become; and at his heart all truth remained in silent virtue.

[Buzz]

I always feel so inadequate when it comes to responding to threads like this. I normally leave some lame, indescript comment and try to make out like I know what's going on when in fact I have no idea. I then normally just leave feeling unfullfilled amd redundent. Then I go to another thread and crack a joke just to feel slightly good about myself again. Sigh.

[Gem]

I always feel so inadequate when it comes to responding to threads like this. I normally leave some lame, indescript comment and try to make out like I know what's going on when in fact I have no idea. I then normally just leave feeling unfullfilled amd redundent. Then I go to another thread and crack a joke just to feel slightly good about myself again. Sigh.

It's only a story.

I know woo woo spirituality has the effect of a guru getting a leg over, but hey, 'any lovin's good lovin' and I take what I can get' ~ Bachman Turner Overdrive

In the end, SF is a place where ya can be really farout, but be careful with the 'inadequate, unfullfilled and redundant' talk, there are some really overzealistic and judgmental psychologists lurking around hereparts.

[Buzz]

It's only a story.

I know woo woo spirituality has the effect of a guru getting a leg over, but hey, 'any lovin's good lovin' and I take what I can get' ~ Bachman Turner Overdrive

In the end, SF is a place where ya can be really farout, but be careful with the 'inadequate, unfullfilled and redundant' talk, there are some really overzealistic and judgmental psychologists lurking around hereparts.


Hehe. Ya don't say!! Yeah, it is probably just my low self esteem showing. Least of my problems really considering I just dropped the soap and Bubba has a real strange look on his face. Man I am not lookin' forward to lockdown tonight. :icon_eek:

[Gem]

The essence of the man, being a mystery, and the truth, being only heart's virtue, left nothing tangible. None of his thought could be held by the hand. To his mind he arose and faded away and became but between each renewal there was no duration, and he was constant witness to all passing, and by loving as he did, made his momentary existence awesome.

[Gem]

The thought was an ability, but it also just arose. What will I become, he asked, now change is apon me? So much is what I think I am and what I don't think is such mystery. Thoughts to form him and become what transforms, so that he sees himself while morphing, yet not morph himself.

The butterfly is the catapiller, but it's being is neither of these, just as the water fell as rain and then flowed as the river to the sea.

One to become to become what he thinks. Be the rain; the river; the sea. To be water one must one thing or the other be.

[Gem]

What his thought determined was met, and any thought is possible, but underlying it is paradox, and as he created one thought, so too did one occur spontaneously.

There was no philosopher, no actual thing existed, he was in himself the acknowledgment of being, but not a being himself. Of that he was doubtless and unquestioning.

In reflection he was truthful and he held nothing in his hands.

[Gem]

All that brought him into being was an occurance unto himself, and he was other than that with which he identified. How heavy or solid or heavenly was only matter of undivided attention, for all things are divided by it. The thing that he was could only ever be that which wasn't him. Any thing becomes and again desists in such a timeless fashion, that on the whole this universe is an endless attentive division. To lose all awareness of thoughtful things was too the demise of himself, but he had no worth to keep.