I sit and close my eyes ... I look at the mind ... thoughts ... some notes ... is to be aware ... then the consciousness almost goes away ... "I nearly fell asleep" I think, when I suddenly alert, noting that in that moment of semi-sleep had produced many, many pictures, but jagged and chaotic, impossible to put them in human logic.
And where was I? I was there? yes I was, without knowing it (but it is only a deduction resulting from intoxication by Indian philosophy of mind) ... and now that instead the focus points, where are they? ... are there? Yes there are, but I do not know where!
I have nothing but chaos, which at times seems ordered and perceptions ... I have nothing ... I do not myself ... I have everything, but I can not have me.
I am aware of what we call mind, a chaos of images continued ... a machine that works tirelessly sensations, sounds, dialogue and anything else you can feel ... pieces that, in the darkness of the unconscious self-seeking, organize and become stories and dreams.
All imagery comes from a place that I have available ... flows spontaneously from a point which for me is nothing. Nothing I'm
this, I intuit! What
be funny that is not accessible to my possession or observation.
are pure potential that unknown that generates all I know, or I'm going to know.
Every memory that seems strange in already contained the truth ... everything that seems to know for the first time, already had.
All that we come from ... inaccessible place, the unknown!
However, it has the power of knowledge of what it has itself produced by his "barren womb" (as he would call a friend of mine).
observes, that point is zero, my own ignorance that takes shape, and turned in my presence, in the 'be aware' ... a consciousness that, dissatisfied and unhappy, it generates the question "Who am I ?"... an unanswered question.
is not a comforting to see that all you can, you will know, including your conscious existence, is not you, but something that has been generated by a null ... from that that you can not know because it's really nothing for the conscience!
be alone let slip this search-consciousness in this blessed Nothing, but how could I ever do?!
And where was I? I was there? yes I was, without knowing it (but it is only a deduction resulting from intoxication by Indian philosophy of mind) ... and now that instead the focus points, where are they? ... are there? Yes there are, but I do not know where!
I have nothing but chaos, which at times seems ordered and perceptions ... I have nothing ... I do not myself ... I have everything, but I can not have me.
I am aware of what we call mind, a chaos of images continued ... a machine that works tirelessly sensations, sounds, dialogue and anything else you can feel ... pieces that, in the darkness of the unconscious self-seeking, organize and become stories and dreams.
All imagery comes from a place that I have available ... flows spontaneously from a point which for me is nothing. Nothing I'm
this, I intuit! What
be funny that is not accessible to my possession or observation.
are pure potential that unknown that generates all I know, or I'm going to know.
Every memory that seems strange in already contained the truth ... everything that seems to know for the first time, already had.
All that we come from ... inaccessible place, the unknown!
However, it has the power of knowledge of what it has itself produced by his "barren womb" (as he would call a friend of mine).
observes, that point is zero, my own ignorance that takes shape, and turned in my presence, in the 'be aware' ... a consciousness that, dissatisfied and unhappy, it generates the question "Who am I ?"... an unanswered question.
is not a comforting to see that all you can, you will know, including your conscious existence, is not you, but something that has been generated by a null ... from that that you can not know because it's really nothing for the conscience!
be alone let slip this search-consciousness in this blessed Nothing, but how could I ever do?!
"Bring me a fruit from that tree"
"Here"
'April'
"I opened"
"What do you see inside?"
"Of the very small seeds, or venerable "
" Aprine a "
" I opened "
" What do you see inside? "
" Nothing at all "
"My son, from this divine anything at all, in truth, this tree comes majestic.
from this divine is absolutely nothing that exists that is the real, is the essence. That's you. "
"Here"
'April'
"I opened"
"What do you see inside?"
"Of the very small seeds, or venerable "
" Aprine a "
" I opened "
" What do you see inside? "
" Nothing at all "
"My son, from this divine anything at all, in truth, this tree comes majestic.
from this divine is absolutely nothing that exists that is the real, is the essence. That's you. "
Chandogya Upanishads
