Leftovers
History is process, and process repeats its patterns, but never goes back.
Square one is a long ago before the ever-after of time was ever conceived.
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Greedy for status, greedy for fortune, greedy for power, greedy for history.
What is the human paradigm, what is the human archetype,
But a precarious cliff of its own making.
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If you want true civilization, you must behave civilly.
History across the board, across time, again and again,
Shows the alternative much less nice, much less pretty.
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Few grasp history well enough not to repeat its underlying patterns again and again.
Intelligence and wisdom cannot long prevail over ignorance any more than light can darkness.
Despite all attempts to attain a greater quality of consciousness, to navigate a more enlightened course,
Humankind seems destined to play out its passionate mind until its inescapable extinction.
Between now and then, who knows what agonies and ecstasies will play out.
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All histories are about perspective; none ever exactly the same.
From whatever vantage any me-myself-and-I is viewing the battlefield,
Every world, every universe, is a unique snowflake entirely born of imagination.
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As illusory as any history is in any given fleeting moment,
It is in the flicker of imagination that we gauge and direct actions
That synergistically fashion a dystopian future we cannot in any way avert.
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There is no deity greater or lesser than you.
All are founded of the same eternal mystery.
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Medals and accolades offer little compensation for arms, legs, minds, or lives.
“Thank you for your service” is but a hollow echo to an existence forever altered.
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Regarding murder and mayhem,
Whether it is a club or a machete or a bullet or an oven or a bomb,
The result is the same.
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Extreme cruelty is best reserved for those who truly deserve it,
And then only in relatively brief and moderate doses when possible.
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Be as the newborn in the crib: pure awareness, pure isness, pure nature,
Watchfully waiting for the winds of nurture to shape it, mold it, condition it, brainwash it,
Program it, indoctrinate it, persuade it, into its persona, its will, its destiny.
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Eternal life, living fully in the moment, is to waylay all past, all future.
As if nothing has never happened; as if nothing will never happen again.
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What would a timeline of seers, mystics, and philosophers look like?
What patterns would it make clear of the endless gyrations
In the shaping, the molding, of the human epic?
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Does not the study of physics and all the other sciences
Make it more than obvious what you truly are, and are not?
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Existence is but an ever-changing dream
That is incessantly tagged with every conceivable notion.
But the ephemeral awareness each and every mind every moment truly is,
Is most definitely, without doubt, exactly the same.
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Meditation and contemplation are about real connectiveness.
The garden and cyber varieties are but shadows in comparison.
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You are that which knows no birth, that which knows no death,
That from which the unborn is born, that from which the born is unborn.
That in which the born ebb and flow again and again for as long as genesis allows.
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The point and purpose of all labels should be suspect to any bent on the quest for truth.
To confine anything within a concept always risks, intentionally or not,
Diminishing, obfuscating, its essential integrity.
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Abandon all belief that you are a human being,
Or any other imaginable form of conscious design.
You are awareness: timeless, empty, ever alone.
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The unborn-undying awareness is the same in all living creatures.
It is only in the ever-streaming outcomes of nature-nurture
That all differences are wrought in the dream of time.
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No culture across this planet, no culture anywhere in time,
Has ever been anything more than a tribal mindset bent on perpetuating itself.
Any prescribed adherence to anything, is nothing more than allowing some other, to rule your mind.
You owe history nothing but what you freely consent.
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The stream of human consciousness is the play of stories ebbing and flowing,
Rounding one corner after another, all its many individual drops collectively playing out history.
Carrying in it every narrative since the first thought of self, of “I am,” came to mind.
How attached are you to your me-myself-and-I vanity is the question.
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All of history’s players since long before recorded time,
Could never have even begun to apprehend how whatever they did,
Has played out in its interminable, indivisible, ever-kaleidoscoping emanation.
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In history’s breadth and depth,
You are but a shallow, linear, hollow scratch.
Your significance, an imaginary monolith in your mind, is nil.
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History is replete with rebels of every shade.
To stand alone is nothing new under this star’s steady gaze.
They have provoked many adjustments, set the course many new directions,
But have any ever fundamentally mutated the startup source code of the human paradigm?
Have any ever even once managed to get the jungle out of the monkey?
History does not repeat itself, but the patterns do.
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You are this set of biological functions; you are not this set of biological functions.
You are this set of bodily networks; you are not this set of bodily networks.
You are this set of perceptions; you are not this set of perceptions.
You are this set of memories; you are not this set of memories.
You are this set of truths; you are not this set of truths.
You are this set of falsehoods; you are not this set of falsehoods.
You are this set of likes; you are not this set of likes.
You are this set of dislikes; you are not this set of dislikes.
You are this set of successes; you are not this set of successes.
You are this set of failures; you are not this set of failures.
You are this set of references; you are not this set of references.
You are this set of preferences; you are not this set of preferences.
You are this set of intentions; you are not this set of intentions.
You are this set of desires; you are not this set of desires.
You are this set of fears; you are not this set of fears.
You are this set of reflections; you are not this set of reflections.
You are this set of pleasures; you are not this set of pleasures.
You are this set of pains; you are not this set of pains.
You are this set of vanities; you are not this set of vanities.
You are this set of sensations; you are not this set of sensations.
You are this set of connections; you are not this set of connections.
Your story, your tale, your narrative, your history, your sense of self,
Is but a temporal play of imagination in eternity’s misty mystery,
And is, for all practical purpose, forgotten as soon as it began.
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Whittling down the vast assortment of deities to just one,
What a task, what a power struggle it has historically proven to be.
And now, what to name this one god, a wrestling match of these our modern times.
And once that is well-established: what creed, what scripture, what commandments, what dress code,
What, what, what … will ever resolve the ever-expanding arrays of vanity
We two-leggeds in every way portray as truth?
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There is no end to the “what if’s” of any historical contemplation, no matter the scale;
Be it individual, group, world, cosmic, or whatever else any mind might attempt to fathom.
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Never assume any history to be totally true.
Every witness, every mind, has its own confined perception.
None ever in any way exactly the same; none ever in any way entirely accurate.
Every soldier on a battlefield has his own unique account.
And the dead, the one never known.
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History is the momentum of forces bent on creation and preservation and destruction,
As intentionally or unintentionally contrived by individuals and collectives and alliances between.
It is the synergistic rippling of every variety of current washing every direction,
Subject only to the whims of time and the laws of physics.
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History.
More history.
Even more history.
Soundbites
So much history before all the history we think we know.
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You owe history nothing but what you freely consent.
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History kills everyone sooner or later.
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History comes, history goes, but the passions are ever the same.
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All history is nothing more than the pretense of imagination.
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To break with history, with the chains of time, is the only true freedom.
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History, more history, even more history.
Breadcrumbs
Throughout its so-called religious history, the Middle East has been a lead sponsor
Of a delusional, dangerous madness, that threatens egalitarian ideas with annihilation.
59 Moments to The Way It Is (And Is Not)
The Scribe’s Guide to the Great Whatthe#$*!?
59 Moments to Me, My Self, and I
59 Moments to Truth or Consequences
59 Moments to Diddly-Squat
59 Moments to Okey-Dokey
59 Moments to Eternity
59 Moments to Oblivion
59 Moments to Laissez-Faire
59 Moments to Mystery
59 Moments to So It Goes
59 Moments to Fearlessness
59 Moments to Timelessness
59 Moments to Truth
59 Moments to Born Anew
59 Moments to Nirvana
59 Moments to Passé
59 Moments to Godlessness
59 Moments to God
59 Moments to Rationalism
59 Moments to Existentialism
59 Moments to Annihilation
59 Moments to Common Sense
59 Moments to Discernment
59 Moments to Critical Thinking
59 Moments to Gumption
59 Moments to Grit
59 Moments to Resourcefulness
59 Moments to Imagination
59 Moments to Inventiveness
59 Moments to Creativity
59 Moments to Wit
59 Moments to Born Again
59 Moments to Ingenuity
59 Moments to Enterprise
59 Moments to Reality
59 Moments to Absurdity
59 Moments to Humility
59 Moments to Hopelessness
59 Moments to Minimalism
59 Moments to Evermore
59 Moments to Hedonism
59 Moments to Discipline
59 Moments to Narcissism
59 Moments to Ecstasy
59 Moments to Buddha
59 Moments to Null and Void
59 Moments to Emptiness
59 Moments to Nothingness
59 Moments to Now
59 Moments to Here
59 Moments to Here Now
59 Moments to Negation
59 Moments to Anarchy
59 Moments to Skepticism
59 Moments to Cynicism
59 Moments to Pessimism
59 Moments to Doubt
59 Moments to Nihilism
59 Moments to Bullshit
59 Moments to Om
59 Moments to Quantum
59 Moments to Abyss
59 Moments to Agnostic
59 Moments to Atheism
59 Moments to Freethinking
59 Moments to Belief
59 Moments to Death
59 Moments to Eternal Life
59 Moments to Nonbelief
59 Moments to Illusion
59 Moments to Delusion
59 Moments to Matrix
59 Moments to Craving
59 Moments to Satisfaction
59 Moments to Contentment
59 Moments to Immortality
59 Moments to Solitude
59 Moments to No Other
59 Moments to Detachment
59 Moments to Singularity
59 Moments to Totality
59 Moments to Absoluteness
59 Moments to Indivisibility
59 Moments to Success
59 Moments to Failure
59 Moments to Happiness
59 Moments to Sorrow
59 Moments to Joy
59 Moments to Oneness
59 Moments to Ecstasy
59 Moments to Infinity
59 Moments to Infinitesimalibility
59 Moments to Peace
59 Moments to Freedom
59 Moments to the Beyond the Pale
59 Moments to Perfection
59 Moments to Imperfection
59 Moments to Tranquility
59 Moments to Bliss
59 Moments to Meditation
59 Moments to Contemplation
59 Moments to Acuteness
59 Moments to Obtuseness
59 Moments to Heaven
59 Moments to Hell
59 Moments to Perdition
59 Moments to Brahman
59 Moments to Samadhi
59 Moments to the End of Time
59 Moments to the Beginning of Time
59 Moments to the Success in Failure
59 Moments to the Failure in Success
59 Moments to Future-Past
59 Moments to Serendipity
59 Moments to Dharma
59 Moments to Artha
59 Moments to Karma
59 Moments to Moksha
59 Moments to Go
59 Moments to Dreamtime
59 Moments to Pause
59 Moments to Stop
59 Moments to Separation
59 Moments to Unity
59 Moments to By Golly
59 Moments to the Great Pfft!
59 Moments to Manifest Destiny
59 Moments to Unmanifest Destiny
59 Moments to the End Before All Beginnings
59 Moments to the Beginning After all Ends
59 Moments to Ad Infinitum
59 Moments to Et Cetera
59 Moments … To Be Continued