hey put on these roller skates
self wrenching pathology in a minor
Been thinking recently, the contention between materialism and idealism seems to come down to the brain/mind.
How do i know i have a brain? (material)
Only ever by experiences i have through the mind (immaterial)
If stimulating the brain creates experience in the mind, does this make matter primary?
Depends upon the definition of mind. If you take mind to mean only the objects of consciousness; thoughts, feelings, sensations, and of course whispier things less definable, but still forms, then yes, the brain and hence matter seem primary. But what of the space in which the form arises?
What of the unsee-able wherein sights arise? What of the space in which thoughts arise? What of the silence that is heard between notes?
Waking reality is so filled with form its difficult to notice that which is no thing. In dream reality form is more lucid, and the space seems less restricted by the forms. In dreamless state then what? There is no form against which we may notice space. Does this mean no space exists?
in one moment there is so much sound that it all mixes together you can’t notice space… then there is an equal mixing of space and sound, so you can better notice both… then there is no sound at all…
it seems to me a question of, “what is comes first, space or form?
Egg Vs chicken, tonight on pay-per-view
without the form, how to notice the space? without the space, how to notice the form? And noticing, that subtle subtle form…
so if mind is formless, and brain is form, what am I? Am i form, or am i space? hahahahaha! I am the always uncertain interplay of both! I am the nightlight and underneath the bed!
I am the snake and the hole wherein she lays her eggs!
Hello to I, looking out at I! I am well, and I am distraught!
I am war, and disease and racism, sexism fear fear fear and hollow callings for wealth and fame and fortune!
I am peace and love and ease! I am unconditional space, allowed to beggars and the rich, bastards thieves and the broken, I am space space space space space to all, whether they know it or not, I am the space that holds their grief and I am the ground that catches tears and I am the void that swallows the feelings of those who cannot let themselves be touched by life
And yet, there is a me in all of this. And that me is afraid. The me says, “everyone who reads this will think that me thinks “I” is me. So don’t say it. Because who am me to declare myself that I?”
who are you to not to?
Have you not been born of this universe, of the volition of this universe? Sustained by this universe? What is the universe but a word to say the one thing thats going on here regardless of how we splice it up into sections, sub-sections, paragraphs and categories, language is words, words are definition, definition is boundary and we are bound up in this tangled web
and all along, this space,
not space, but spaciousness,
not spaciousness, but
and so, admitting all this out in the open to that fearful me,
this fierce roar of I and I and I, me says “Me must not allow me to pass out my harmful forms into I, me must fight against these forms”
to begin to untangle these threads, and find the spaciousness outside of language, and allow it for other me’s, desperate as my own me, to find this space, this I, is not a project for me, but a never ending, untouchable, immutable intransient reality for I, wherein this me, writing now, resides wrenching and twisting and seeking and searching in circles and circles to get to where I already am.
how could a me ever give to another me, I?
When you get tired of trying to fall asleep, then you might find yourself awake the next morning