Wittgenstein

"A sure characteristic of religious statements is that their mistakes are too big simply to be called errors. Being incalculable blunders, one is driven to ask if they may not have their own kind of meaning. As Wittgenstein notes, if I said 22 + 22 = 45  an observer would respond, "He is in error." But if I said 22 + 22 = 3,000,000 the observer would either think me crazy or working within a system of meaning he did not grasp. Many religious statements are of that sort; they are too wild simply to be called errors. They either are incalculable blunders, or they contain a special sort of meaning."

The Perfected Person: Chuang-Tzu and Intra-Worldly Mysticism

Letter To A Friend (original)

Even in this down time, I love life. I am thankful for this experience, that I might share it with others, in the hopes that they might somehow benefit. Life is not always as bad as it seems—take this moment for instance: I am homeless, and yet, I am happy. It is true what they say—the right company is worth more than anything in the world—this is the point, this is the reason, this is the purpose, for why we are here (and find ourselves separated in the world): that we might come to know one another, live with one another, understand one another, and love one another. And yet I am sad, because we all lie to ourselves (and thus, to the world), we compare ourselves (when we need not), and judge each other (even without knowing it).

I listen to the sounds of the night, and I am at peace... and yet, there is turmoil—inner struggle. To end this struggle, is to end suffering, is to become a Buddha. I love life, so much; I will miss it when it's gone.

I love to think, more than anything else in the world. Music is like thinking—"when it hits you, you feel no pain."—only joy, only bliss, only a moment of hope that maybe, just maybe, everything is exactly the way it is supposed to be.

Change is hard, but it will come. And so will your acceptance of it.

Some mystics believe free-writing is a way to "listen to 'God'"; they say poetry is a personal act of self-revelation. What is deep in your mind will come out, and what you were previously unaware of, comes to the surface threw your pen. Of course this means we've all talked to God, and we simply didn't know it (who it was). "I find it healthy to conversate with myself" ("Self Conscience" - Mobb Deep). This is Prayer: when you listen (to ''yourself''), but do not speak (as ''yourself''). That is, you tap into the unconscious. Deep in that unconscious, is God (or at least, His Voice). Perhaps 'Buddha' (meaning "Awakened One"), means being fully conscious of your unconscious, and therefore, also means being in constant contact with God. This means, when people speak as God (to themselves), they really are speaking on behalf of God. What one person says as God, may only apply to that one particular person (or perhaps multitudes)—but so long as what is said comes from "The Deep" (the unconscious), it is true. This is not what Genesis talks about, but it can be. It was originally an Egyptian description of the sunrise, and the beginning of the day, til the end of night. But as patterns emerge in nature, so may patterns in thinking, and in being. Thinking and Being are intimately close. ("As a man thinketh, so is he").

This is the Law of Attraction: you attract both consciously, and unconsciously (this is why it sometimes appears not to work—or even to work against you). The unconscious mind is much stronger and deeper—it is primal, and predominately rules us—but only until we bring those unconscious thoughts into the light (make them conscious); then, we regain control: we control our being, our experience, our effect on the world. Thus, when we become awakened, God becomes real into the world. "WE" (here, meaning "God") are born... (again).

I have heard someone say, "I have beaten yoga" (the exercise), as though it were some type of game. I would like to beat my "ego", or "self". As a result of this, it may appear to be the case that I am experiencing delusions of grandeur ("ambition, quite often, may be confused with arrogance"). I believe myself exceptional, though not anymore than anyone else could be.

Was Jesus not delusional? Was not Buddha? "Life without suffering, you say?! Impossible!", you say, "No one can be at ease with everything! Life and Death and you take them the same... you, 'Resist Not Evil'?"

This is why I love life—it is a big mystery. "I can sit, I can think, I can fast."—this was the homage to the Buddha, Siddhartha (Hesse). I took this book to heart. Within a year of converting to Buddhism in high-school, we were required to read "Siddhartha". Perhaps, a genuine searching and questioning (without fear of reprisal) brought this about—or, perhaps not. It told me that I was blind to the world, that I am the same as the world, and therefor I do not know myself.

This is spirituality: none other than, getting to know yourself. This is getting to know that "I am who I am". Some have spoken as this "I am", and this is why the two were one. Anyone can do this. When, in the moment, our thoughts are unified ("Hey, I was just thinking that!"), we were occupying the same identical "space"; and therefore, for a moment, a very brief moment, we have shared the same "identity". These moments are precious, and can sometimes even be eerie. This is "holiness" (the "Numinous").

This will sound strange but I wish I could live in the forest, secluded, as a hermit (just for a time)—that is, I would like to go camping. I want to do what they said the Yogis would do. I want to know what pilgrimage feels like; to hitchhike, maybe home, to California.

I love my friends, though I do not always feel they reciprocate; and I dislike the part of myself that thinks I am better than them for that. I see hypocrisy, and I need help ridding myself of it... we all do. This is why, for me, nothing goes unchecked, but everything is always forgiven. Really, its always in everyone's best interest to always forgive all things. Forgive betrayal—it is good for the soul, and strengthens the bond. Therefore, it is good that such a thing as betrayal exists. Hooray for betrayal! It is good to be alive. Pray that you find yourself betrayed by the world—all of it, everyone at all. In your "alone-ness" (different from "loneliness") you come to know exactly who you are—and you come to know "God" (which is also always interchangeable with "universe"). You keep this alone-ness with you, and you can use it whenever. As in, "standing alone in a crowd" (which has a triple meaning). This is where you meet "I am"—and so Moses went to meditate alone, on the mountain, and Jesus went to meditate alone, in the garden, and Muhammad went to meditate, on the mountain. Blessed are we that come in the name of Love, for we appear in the image of God, and are called his Sons (see Genesis). And has there ever been love without peace? (or at least as its goal in every form) "Blessed are the peacemakers, they shall be called god's children." Sadly, it is possible to aim at peace, and arrive at war.

How to fix this? LISTEN to each other; and when your mind is quiet enough, you can listen to yourselves, and finally, you will be able to hear God. Prayer is listening, and nothing else. If you are the one doing the 'talking' (thinking), you are doing it wrong. This is also meditation. Meditation is watching for the thoughts, Prayer is listening to your thoughts.

The patterns of life are a glorious symphony—we are all audience members of the greatest show on earth, "The World".

I want a small home in a quiet area (but hell, I love the city too). I want a meager, nearly meaningless job, just for now (but I would be a fire fighter, or a professor). Oh, to pull that trigger and know ego death - "Happiness is a warm gun", and life begins when your world is shattered.

I love being eccentric. I call this "original", "distinguished". I call the rest posers—trying to fool themselves more than anyone else. Maybe this is what I'm doing—If so, I love to play the fool.

"I just believe in me—and that's reality". This is like playing connect the dots in an "infinite game". And so they say, "He who knows himself, knows God." Don't you remember we told ourselves "we are gods"? (Psalm 82). Therefore, based on the assumption "you are gods", I and everyone else, can be logically sound, and theologically justified, in making such a statement. Its really quite simple, and yet it seems so radical to do so. Perhaps because so many lunatics do it and so when we hear it we switch onto autopilot and tune it out, "Oh yeah, you're God? And I'm the muffin man." It's the crazy ones we should listen to... to see just how crazy they are... or we are. For this reason the queen shaman told the western soldier "we shall see if we can rid you of your insanity." It seems if everyone is crazy, then no one is. and if none are, then we all are. If I am, I must tell you, its so much fun! Whatever this is, there is nothing better. May I please live this way forever? Right now, there is no suffering, only fun. It's just plain fun. Hooray for this opportunity to be alone with myself, and also the opportunity to share what I have discovered with others. Joy to the world! I truly love you all. This will sound nuts, but I sometimes envision myself surrounded by light, glowing as well, with my face in the clouds, looking down and smiling on everyone with sunshine sun rays. I cannot say if this is Heaven, but I know I am no one other than myself. But I feel this is my ultimate goal. My "self" defeat (ego death). "It is better to conquer yourself than the entire world" (Buddha).

Why can't we tell the truth? Why can't we be more open? Are we afraid? There is nothing to be afraid of. Why fear your mother? She loves you... even when she doesn't (stole that line from "californication").

And yet I know I am not worthy of this bliss. I am pride and shame at once. I am the glory of the Lord, and yet, I have no majesty. I am powerless and weak, and yet I am stupendous. Justify yourself and your life, even if only to yourself. I am nothing, perfect freedom. I am poetry, perfect bliss. I am the sun, the moon, and the stars, all in a perfect kiss. But I have yellow eyes, and I cannot see them well in the light. You need the darkness to see who I am—as we all do. We need pain and suffering. Life is "Sublime"—beautiful and dangerous at the same time. I have committed violence against my fellow man and I would be put to shame. I have not yet paid off this debt. I am gambling—gather round, and place your bets. I am a risk taker of the highest caliber, and yet I am scared shit-less. Brilliant. I love it. "Do not go gentle into that good night!", and yet, "To die would be an awfully big adventure" (Peter Pan). Interesting how Shakespeare refers to it as a "good" night, isn't it? Perhaps, and this is the most important, there is no such thing as death (Yet, I don't mean to say I will live forever). Just, there is no perfect darkness—there is no absolute zero (degrees Kelvin)—there is no perfect stillness, there is always motion, there is always life (you might even say motion is eternal). And for this reason Heraclitus said the world is made of fire—it is alive!

Ha! I wanted to be homeless (Samana) and now I am! Thank you for answering my prayers! Henry David Thoreau, and the Hindu Yogis, as well as the author of Conversations With God, and the character in Fight Club... they were all homeless, or lived in the wilderness.

I address my own sanity, because this is the most sane thing to do. Period. I speak with authority because I have yet to be proven wrong (but will yield the moment it happens). What better way to guarantee you are right than to make sure you are not wrong? Apologies. My mind is moving to fast for my pen to catch, so I can only use an aphoristic style for now. Rest assure a ton of explanation has been left out, but I will give you my best.

When you beg someone to let you do a favor for them, that is the beginning of "Resist Not", especially if that favor comes at a great expense to yourself.

A man needs only seven friends, seven families.

I am ashamed to have stolen—this is a debt I cannot repay. Yet I will attempt to, by freely offering anything I own to anyone anytime. This is why I am writing. This is all I own and I give it all to you.

To believe in evil—to perceive evil—requires a most arrogant perspective. It is a high requirement to perceive it. But is it evil for fire to burn? For virus to disease? To hunt? To consume? This has been the way of the world since the beginning, and we have foolish pride to call it violence? Ah-ha! I do not have delusions of grandeur (as I do not think myself any better than others can be), I am an enthusiast of the highest caliber! Thus we literally are the children of the Most High. We really did "Become like God" Yet we are not God, and therefore we fell infinitely short.

"Break on through to the other side" 

Siddhartha (Herman Hesse)

Siddhartha said: "You know, my friend, that even as a young man, when we lived with the ascetics in the forest, I came to distrust doctrines and teachers and to turn my back on them. I am still of the same turn of mind, although I have, since that time, had many teachers. A beautiful courtesan was my teacher for a long time, and a rich merchant and a dice player. On one occasion, one of the Buddha's wandering monks was my teacher. He halted in his pilgrimage to sit beside me when I fell asleep in the forest. I also learned from him and I am grateful to him, very grateful. But most of all, I have learned from this river and from my predecessor, Vasudeva. He was a simple man; he was not a thinker, but he realized the essential as well as Gotama. He was a holy man, a saint."

Govinda said: "It seems to me, Siddhartha, that you still like to jest a little. I believe you and know that you have not followed any teacher, but have you not yourself, if not a doctrine, certain thoughts? Have you not discovered certain knowledge yourself that has helped you to live? It would give me great pleasure if you would tell me something about this."

Siddhartha said: "Yes, I have had thoughts and knowledge here and there. Sometimes, for an hour or for a day, I have become aware of knowledge, just as one feels life in one's heart. I have had many thoughts, but it would be difficult for me to tell you about them. But this is one thought that has impressed me, Govinda. Wisdom is not communicable. The wisdom which a wise man tries to communicate always sounds foolish."

"Are you jesting?" asked Govinda.

"No, I am telling you what I have discovered. Knowledge can be communicated, but not wisdom. One can find it, live it, be fortified by it, do wonders through it, but one cannot communicate and teach it. I suspected this when I was still a youth and it was this that drove me away from teachers.

There is one thought I have have, Govinda, which you will again think is a jest or folly: that is, in every truth the opposite is equally true. For example, a truth can only be expressed and enveloped in words if it is one-sided. Everything that is thought and expressed in words is one-sided, only half the truth; it all lacks totality, completeness, unity. 

When the illustrious Buddha taught about the world, he had to divide it into Samsara and Nirvana, into illusion and truth, into suffering and salvation. One cannot do otherwise, there is no other method for those who teach. But the world itself, being in and around us, is never one-sided. Never is a man or a deed wholly Samsara or wholly Nirvana; never is a man wholly a saint or a sinner. This only seems to be so because we suffer the illusion that time is something real. Time is not real, Govinda. I have realized this repeatedly. And if time is not real, then the dividing line that seems to lie between this world and eternity, between suffering and bliss, between good and evil, is also an illusion."

"How is that?" asked Govinda, puzzled.

"Listen, my friend! I am a sinner and you are a sinner, but someday the sinner will be Brahma again, will someday attain Nirvana, will someday become a Buddha. Now this 'someday' is an illusion; it is only a comparison. The sinner is not on the way to a Buddha-like state; he is not evolving, although our thinking cannot conceive things otherwise. No, the potential Buddha already exists in the sinner; his future is already there. The potential hidden Buddha must be recognized in him, in you, in everybody. 

The world, Govinda, is not imperfect or slowly evolving along a path to perfection. No, it is perfect at every moment; every sin already carries grace within it, all small children are potential old men, all sucklings have death within them, all dying people―eternal life. It is not possible for one person to see how far another is on the way; the Buddha exists in the robber and the dice player; the robber exists in the Brahmin. 

During deep meditation it is possible to dispel time, to see simultaneously all the past, present and future, and then everything is good, everything is perfect, everything is Brahman. Therefore, it seems to me that everything that exists is good―death as well as life; sin as well as holiness, wisdom as well as folly. Everything is necessary, everything needs only my agreement, my assent, my loving understanding; then all is well with me and nothing can harm me. 

I learned through my body and soul that it was necessary for me to sin, that I needed lust, that I had to strive for property and experience nausea and the depths of despair in order to learn not to resist them, in order to learn to love the world, and no longer compare it with some kind of desired imaginary world, some imaginary vision of perfection, but to leave it as it is, to love it and be glad to belong to it. These, Govinda, are some of the thoughts that are in my mind."

Siddhartha bent down, lifted a stone from the ground and held it in his hand.

"This." he said, handling it, "is a stone, and within a certain length of time it will perhaps be soil and from the soil it will become plant, animal or man. Previously I should have said: This stone is just a stone; it has no value, it belongs to the world of Maya, but perhaps because within the cycle of change it can also become man and spirit, it is also of importance. That is what I should have thought.

But now I think: This stone is a stone; it is also animal, God and Buddha. I do not respect and love it because it was one thing and will become something else, but because it has already long been everything and always is everything. I love it just because it is a stone, because today and now it appears to me a stone. I see value and meaning in each one of its fine markings and cavities, in the yellow, in the gray, in the hardness and the sound of it when I knock it, in the dryness or dampness of its surface. There are stones that feel like oil or soap, that look like leaves or sand, and each one is different and worships Om in its own way; each one is Brahman. At the same time it is very much stone, oily or soapy, and that is just what pleases me and seems wonderful and worthy of worship.

But I will say no more about it. Words do not express thoughts very well. They always become a little distorted, a little foolish. And yet it also pleases me and seems right that what is of value and wisdom to one man seems nonsense to another."

Govinda had listened in silence.

"Why did you tell me about the stone?" he asked hesitatingly after a pause.

"I did so unintentionally. But perhaps it illustrates that I just love the stone and the river and all these things that we see and from which we can learn. I can love a stone, Gonvinda, and a tree or a piece of bark. These are things and one can love things. But one cannot love words. Therefore teachings are of no use to me; they have no hardness, no softness, nor colors, no corners, no smell, no taste―they have nothing but words. Perhaps that is what prevents you from finding peace, perhaps there are too many words, for even salvation and virtue. Samsara and Nirvana are only words, Govinda. Nirvana is not a thing; there is only the word Nirvana."

Govinda said: "Nirvana is not only a word, my friend; it is a thought."

Siddhartha continued: "It may be a thought, but I must confess, my friend, that I do not differentiate very much between thoughts and words. Quite frankly, I do not attach great importance to thoughts either. I attach more importance to things. For example, there was a man at this ferry who was my predecessor and teacher. He was a holy man who for many years believed only in the river and nothing else. He noticed that the river's voice spoke to him. He learned from it; it educated and taught him. The river seemed like a god to him and for many years he did not know what every wind, every cloud, every bird, every beetle is equally divine and knows and can teach just as well as the esteemed river. But when this holy man went off into the woods, he knew everything; he know more than you and I, without teachers, without books, just because he believed in the river."

Govinda said: "But what you call thing, is it something real, something intrinsic? Is it not only the illusion of Maya, only image and appearance? Your stone, your tree, are they real?"

"This also does not trouble me much," said Siddhartha. "If they are illusion, then I also am illusion, and so they are always of the same nature as myself. It is that which makes them so lovable and venerable. That is why I can love them. And here is a doctrine at which you will laugh. It seems to me, Govinda, that love is the most important thing in the world. It may be important to great thinkers to examine the world, to explain and despise it. But I think it is only important to love the world, not to despise it, not for us to hate each other, but to be able to regard the world and ourselves and all beings with love, admiration and respect."