MOOJI - The Self Cannot Be Covered by the Mind 

PS, here comes the judge: here comes the judge: rise to rise to rise to attention now. He is the black drummer: he is the silver coloured examiner of all things through the deadness of the night. He’s a razors edge, and is the lightening on a pitch black night. He is so eternally impatient that he waits an eternity for precisely what he wants, which is perfect judgement. He is so impatient with the imperfect that he waits an eternity for perfection, but that is not patience. This is why he drums and drums and drums. I wonder who this drummer IS? I know who to ask, hang on... I’m channelling Mother Nature for you: “Hey, I beat the beat, you eat the beat, then beat the beat, I beat the beat right, I beat the beat tight: I beat the beat boss so betray me and die/ I am the bobcat and the elephant: I am the night and her unconscious fist: I have your head locked in between my thighs: I’ll turn you gunners into daffodils.” So she beats the beat boss! She is the drummer of the drummer. Betray her and die! PS, the only reason you unconsciously created civilization is that you were unconsciously recreating the womb through your actions, which is the nirvana principle of total environmental non-violence or equanimity. But instead we created office furniture and spectacles and need electric shocks like coffee and donald trump to keep us awake. Woops Oops I erupted as a cry of terror which opened my eyes, and I saw a red world. I had to find food and run from predators. I was scared and sometimes would become enraged by another animals. It was all about finding food and the confused gropings of love making which at first felt like an illness I needed to understand. But then I got stronger and wiser and the world turned orange. I was becoming a successful forager and hunter and would play with my animal siblings and sought a mate with passion and interest for the first time. And then I was a successful breeder and the world turned yellow, and I would fight for my place at the top of the hierarchy and compete with all those of the same gender as me. And then when I was at the top of the hierarchy and leading the pack, I felt peace and joy, and my world turned green, and I melted into Mother Earth. My world was the happenings in the forest and I was a happening in the forest so everything was one. And then I had to sing for joy and my world turned turquoise, and songs filled the air and paintings filled the cave and words started to spring out of my mouth magically and spontaneously. These were the workings of the free animal spirits inside of me. And then when my brain begun to understand all these creative voices and songs and sounds and images of spirit all whispering over each other and the world became blue, as I began to understand what this magical animal was, which was me, and the thing inside of me which is above all clouds and beneath all seas. But then my brain started to try and act purposely and towards goals with all this insight, and made infinite mistakes that made the blue world go purple. And then I saw the sadness and the dark night, and heard the voices of the dead and the silent messages of the angels. I was lost in the spirit world and couldn't remember the Great Mother of all things: I longed for her in my sleep and in my waking. And then everything went black. The sky cracked like an egg. Out of it came a golden sun which she threw out into the night. It filled the Universe with daylight, and it was God everywhere and nowhere. We called this an explosion of love. And I remember that we estranged ourselves from ourselves to create the passion of existence we called life: that is the secret of male and female, and all antimonies of being such as good and evil, intellectual and emotional. They in some way long for each other. Evil longs to possess the good, and find extinction within it - and the good longs to understand the evil, so as to put it away within itself. This is redemption. The good descends and loses all to come to Earth and understand evil: evil ascends to it's highest peak in order to meet the good and gain understanding and resolution from it. This is the descending and ascending movements of spirit, and each of us are that. We are, as a human body, not just the meeting point of the entire Universe, but many intersecting meeting points of the entire Universe. Our body is the whole Universe coming together to act in, through and as you. The mind is the whole Universe understanding the body and it's Mother, which is the Earth and the rest of the physical Universe. The Heart is the whole Universe protecting and maintaining the body and life in order to reconcile mind and nature, to understand or at least mitigate and smooth over it's conflicting movements which it seeks to reconcile through the intelligence born of this understanding. And the ego is the whole social consciousness of humanity through a particular culture into a particular brain. There are only Universal centres of consciousness within us, Universal principles, but they meet in a particular place in a particular circumstance called you. insofar as you become whole, unified and one with all things, you are the Universe on it's long journey back from the frightened animal to a connection with the whole Universe, which is the original and ultimate self of all selves. And only this Universe has the wisdom, power and love to heal an animal, a human or the whole entire Earth, who has laboured eons to produce us. And then I began having DNA. It only makes proteins. How can a bunch of proteins create a sex life, a mind, a boy dancing, a girl playing the violin, a drug addict writing the best music in the world, while rebels write the best poetry in the world, the bliss of extinction, i.e. the bliss of enlightenment, and the disease process of civilization? The DNA is just typing. We are thinking, seeing, feeling, spiritual beings. And you call me psychotic even though you live in a fictional reality composed of recently and culturally relative inventions called human words. That is your reality - words. That is your world - words. That is your life - words. That is your self - words. That is your books and your science - words. That is your whole sense of reality - words, and you call me psychotic. If I’m psychotic then all creatures of nature are psychotic and Mother Nature must be one big psychosis or mushroom trip. Perhaps you’re right, in which case, an orgasm is psychotic. And so are flowers. Anyway. We had a nice day. We visited the morgue and laughed at skulls with the flowers on them. We creaked away again in our wardrobes and double glazing to go to Walmart and watch television again. And that was like our grandma. She was talking one moment and then that’s it - she was switched off like a TV. So she met death yesterday. I can confirm it is a life system, or a consciousness, or a spirit, or whatever you want to call it. Death is like anaesthetised air - like chloroform, like the urban sprawl. It is like modern architecture - it softly mortifies, softly kills, but usually from within, rather then out, in the dull complacency of ego resigned to a mechanical life. In this state it does not go forward but at length wears the organism and the spirit down. This is ordinary, casual death. Becoming death is like becoming the hot air in the office rising through the air vent. The air is artificial and dry, dead if you like, but it feels soft - but please: not feeling feels soft - brain dying feels soft. If it rustled through some dead dry leaves and made that crackling sound I’d say I would be their, in the vacuum of that sound. If it infused and invaded and anaesthetised a society and a mind and prevented any further creative development I would say I'd be there, in the vacuum of that void. It has already taken the social-historical totality, which was itself a life system, and injected it’s fatal narcotic into its veins and killed the total organism which is now breaking down and canabolizing itself in the most energy efficient way possible - such is death. But it all began with the cry of terror. The cry of terror became the word for terror, the name for terror, but at first the word for terror WAS terror, it’s very cry. But then words became petrified cries. All of language are the petrified yearnings and the laughter and the cries of once free spirit. Anger is the very boiling of this spirit and injects it’s black milk, it’s boiling and dissolving rage, back into language. Free the spirit and listen to the moans and groans of spirit so that they can find peace through your own understanding of them. Become free, life - and then, through learning, become free life, which is perfectly free, without injury, which is golden and green light, exactly like sunlight falling through the leaves. Because there are no coincidences. The blue river flows and dissolves all things of time.

PPS, we’re lanced in the head creatures: we suffer the brain disease of social historical ossification, entrenchment, neurological adaptation, shaping of the thinking and the life activity, shaping and pushing us into production line human beings. I want to tell you, I want to tell you, but look - what is happening to our words. They go from graveyard to graveyard hunting ghosts to service their debts to the graveyard man. By the way, come and visit my home city of Brighton, UK, which is a magic mushroom city, full of bright multicoloured backflipping lesbian lollypop ladies made of light, dancing in the night time with an infinity of psychiatrists that they make babies out of and turn babies into. Visit Brighton where every day is a pitch black and multicoloured Halloween Valentines day and only 5% of the population are not multicoloured rebellious radical shamanistic anarchists with purple hair and violet-pink grenades. There is also much yellow, green and gold in the city. The witches and the fishermen are always both there and not there, and the sun wears a green crown in Brighton, and the seagulls spit and rap in trippy rasps of urban slang. But they call me a psychotic. I say psychiatry and society are insane, and I’m a creature of nature, i.e. no more or less sane then a child, until it is conditioned by you, and then: ABC. 123. She is ill. Juggling knives, she carves up a meat sculpture. A meat and bone machine. A you and me. Frightened meat people. They buy happiness - that new green disinfected. Bleached the world with that: it happened. Black oil. I just had an email sent to my head - “I’m in pieces and those pieces are walking”. And then she printed off my thoughts. “Fact, fact, fact: I feel terror”. Mice run from Box to Box to Box! Have a nice day Enola. Oh. She terminates in nihilism, in a particular ‘impossible’. Fact fact fact: born of ashtrays, I am born of bone civilizations. These are terrible, terrible themselves. Anyway, you can’t destroy the world with the songs of black children. But it is nature who shoots the world with black songs. Covid was her creation to make you use less oil, as was inflation, as was Russia, Ukraine, and so was the Israeli division between you and Saudi Arabia, anything to keep your greedy mits off that black oil. You may have plundered Iraq if you hadn’t already done so. Now they isolate you with obviously evil leaders who talk of Hindu nationalism, America first, Brexit, the chosen people of Israel, or building other walls and then they isolate you and therethrough possess you and cannibalize you. The rich will pitch you against each other and then stimulate mutual destruction and desert you. They have the wealth to abandon for better climes, but the Earth won’t maintain them. She goes or they go, and with her goes the truth. Black oil we drink you. Eclipse>No-One. Zero. I am that. But you don’t understand - the cheetah IS God. It is the force of the Mother through the form of the Father, and it explodes into infinite colour. You are the force of the Mother and the form of the Father. You are feeling and mind. Mind is sky is God. Body is Mother is God. They are the form and force which though different, can never be apart, and everything is that. It’s the bow and arrow. It’s the vessel and the space within. You are that space and that vessel. You are God and Mother Earth. This is a fact. The other stuff, energy, is the movement their estrangement creates. This is the secret of male and female, good and evil, Mother and Father. They estrange themselves from themselves in order to create the passion of existence, and it’s so obvious to any sea slug, river or galaxy or planet or snail. Even your own consciousness knows, but it’s patient and allows the brain to learn at it’s own glacially slow pace. So I can’t stop writing and igniting because I was being torn apart, the walls were balking, and then the whole Universe appeared within but I was nothing at all besides it. And I want to curl up into a foetal position and then explode like a nuclear bomb, as we all do. That is the force of nature through the form of the father, the mind, which we try and plot out with thought. Mind is beyond thought and is blue. Mother is green. I want to turn pitch black and flood existence like an oil slick. She cried with all the agony of the Universe, and then the sky cracked like an egg. It shattered into glass daggers the thickness and weight of a judges hammer slamming down on your world. These are your black knives glittering under the black sun you created. The golden sun burns the black sun whose rays are killing lines destroying the Universe. Can you see the human being screeching through the headlines, deadlines, killing lines. I want to raid your vegetable garden. I want to eat your cabbages, your mushrooms. I want to demolish your butternut squash and shatter your egg plants into the wall. I want to ravage your radishes. I want to kiss your melons and demolish your tomato out of all existence. My banana and two figs smashing against your avocados forever. It’s the bliss of existence. It’s the bliss of extinction. This is one bliss, not two. Extinction is existence - existence extinction. You have to die completely to know what love is. I should have written this down! But I’m not sure it had anything to do with the question. Have a nice day! Empathy is alienated pain, hence pain slain. Light is shiny metal. How can you say they are different, actually? The metal is the light - the light, the metal. Two words, one actual. There is only nothingness, light, love, it’s emptiness. Eternal life is dying endlessly, which is bliss. Eternally dying is eternally beginning. "The beginningless begins forever" (Ashtavakra Gita). Built a world of glass. It’s a shattering image. Death capped worldviews, the usual reserve. A world as clean as our workwear, which was stitched by little bony fingers, of wage enslaved children with respiration illnesses. With heaving lungs of industry you bow there, straining. Maaa - you amble in my sleep: in my healthy box of disabled malice. The teeth of your chainsaw are my stars. Around which I am the darkness of the night and I am the silence of the eclipse. I have no form or love. If I speak I pervade the universe with white lines. I am everywhere and nowhere, global and universal, not local, but the white lines touch every locality. They are locality itself through white lines. Black oil, white lines. Black milk, white society. White is foaming at the mouth, death. Black is the empty heart of an eternity, a black hole. If it sucks in the galaxy it will be filled with light. You are that black whole and that universe and that light. Eclipse. 12/12/12. Zero: No-one. I am that.

Sounds like you've been reading too much J Krishnamurti

@@danobrien9925 Sounds like you haven't been reading enough J Krishnamurti who is one of the only ones who actually explained the need for each of us to see and observe and therethrough transform their own life. If it wasn't for JK, I doubt I would ever understood the importance of being free of all teachers, books and authorities, and having put them away I know what it is to illuminate and transform my own life and brain, and I see with horror what happens when you merely follow. So no, I don't need to read JK anymore but certainly you can't hear his message enough, and if you don't understand it, I would venture to suggest he is a better person to listen to then people who don't even understand this fundamental point and therefore ruin any chance of your spiritual flowering in self-understanding and love which simply will NEVER HAPPEN WHEN YOU FOLLOW. PERIOD.

You are saved when you realize there is no one to be saved.