The Dream

Your ego is a strange attractor that anchors looping neurotic patterns (of emotion, thought, behavior) that sustain a sense of you as a somebody.

This moment is all that has ever been. The rest is a random rainbow trip. Consciousness collapses into an ego trip when a perception [of safety/threat, comfort/pressure, success/failure, freedom/trap, acceptance/rejection, appreciation/misjudgement, etc.] triggers a cascade of neurotic patterns across hormonal, myofascial, metabolic, psychological, etc. levels. The ’I’ flares up, the story of ’me’ rekindles and Light slips down the rabbit hole of the personal kaleidoscope. That is to say: Experience collapses into perceptions that in turn trigger neurotic patterns of anxiety, excitement, joy, nervousness, worry, guilt, shame, fixation, avoidance, recoil, fear of loss, of missing out, sense of inadequacy, of inferiority, of unworthiness, melancholy, dejection, compulsion to sustain, preserve and conserve, muscular tension in the gut, in the neck, cortisol spikes, glycogen plummets, etc.

Ego consciousness is an energy vortex with an ever elusive vacuum in the middle surrounded by clouds of cyclic patterns. Reminds me of this: atom_icon2-1030x1030


but ONE

You say that you’re heartbroken over ’’moving on’’ because you’ve grown truly fond of the forms—the places, the faces—you’ve encountered. But let’s be honest: do  you get as attached to plants too? Do you feel dejected when you see a blooming flower in April and think about the fleeting nature of your encounter?—Now, is this a silly comparison? Why? What is the extent of the difference? Isn’t it but all about forms? forms that you can appreciate for their unique flair or fail to do so. One thing’s for sure, we go easy on the plants because they cannot engage in our drama, but when it comes to people we turn into weird, needy little desperate Gollums clinging, grasping, claiming and demanding—no matter how passively—we proceed, in effect, to project the love that we are onto their form—their peculiar face and their bodily rhythms, gestures, postures and style of engaging—because we expect them to be someone for us so we can get to be someone for them.

Someone but One.

Manifest Destiny

The ego is like the ultimate search engine—slick, sleek and stunningly swift—designed to seek and invariably find new frontiers to keep reassuring its own raison d’etre. That’s how yesterday’s selfless flow turns into today’s fixation overnight (especially among folks of the spiritually/transpersonally inclined). Even the gesture of total transparency and exposure—like the one attempted on this confessional type blog and other transpersonally oriented sites—quickly turns into a posture, a new way of reassuring a sense of separate self in control. But at least I (!) know that LOL.

Dig it?

If at the outset of your existential journey you are assigned the task to cut down a tree without the aid of any equipment you would be puzzled for a while, but the solution would soon hit you: I can’t cut it down with my nails so I’ll do the next best thing and dig it out with my hands. So, you start digging with your hands. At first, expectant about the potential prospects beyond the tree, you start out a bit hastily and you end up injuring your fingers repeatedly that forces you to take some time out to recover. Your second realization comes around this point: In order to make sustainable progress I’ll have to go really slow to get the job down. So you throttle down and decide to take your time. Every now and then, you still injure yourself, though, and you’re constrained to bring the tempo further and further down almost to the point of a standstill. It’s immensely frustrating. You are forced to chip away with infinite patience now. But then, halfway through, deep down amid the roots suddenly the third recognition hits you: It’s not necessary at all to get the tree out of the ground. You stop. This is the first time that it ever occurs to you to question the utter absurdity of the whole situation. Just because I’ve been instructed to cut this tree down it doesn’t mean it’s something I must somehow any-how execute. Why on Earth am I actually doing this? You reluctantly climb out of the pit and take a slow, halting look around the scenery of peaceful stillness surrounding you two. You start pulling back the big heap of ground you’ve diligently dredged up, to re-cover the bare, exposed roots of your tree. In the process you second-guess yourself a few times but there is less and less hesitation in your moves. When you finish, exhausted, you fall back on your back and stare, supine & spent, right up at the leaves of the tree. This is the first time you notice the leaves. You listen to them being played upon by the easy wind. Tears start rolling from the corner of your eye. First, they are salty tears of sorrow but soon they turn into sweet tears of joy.

/One day, you’ll get up from your grub like this and sit against the trunk of that tree of yours to spend some quality time under its lush foliage before giving up the ghost. Hopefully.


Shame On Me [Fragments]

I as an ego have been (en)trained to fixate on pleasing others and feel ashamed and contract in emotional pain whenever (I (perceive that) I cause some form of (emotional) damage to an other. Yeah: I am absolutely loath to put a dent in youse delicate souls.

The emotional pain I typically feel stems either from a sense of guilt or shame [which compels me to recoil] or a sense of over-excitement [which compels me to grasp] and it functions like a black hole that siphons off my energetic flow (shunting blood sugar and cuing the stress hormones) leading to a crash, an energetic collapse (glycogen plummet), a shutdown of bowel movement and severe exhaustion or even a hangover headache in its aftermath.

Once I recognize that ’I’ ain’t the black hole (& totally bound by the gravitational pull of a self-obsessed ego) but that I am the limitless cosmos that contains it: the energetic see-saw dampens to a gentler, more sustainable swing.

In essence, this recognition comes when I finally come upon [=relax into] the distinction between white noise (aka stillness, true freedom) and noise (the emotional pain triggered by shame, guilt, frustration and the compulsion to struggle).


Show your true colors. Be naked. Radiate your aroma: Like a flower its peculiar fragrance. Why hold back when there is nothing at all to lose. The only trace there is to leave in this world is the delicate scent of your fleeting existence. Be the humble flower that you are rather than the anxiously spreading creeper that you’ve been conditioned to become. Don’t be the creeper—that hopeless critter—that tries to get hold of the other [i.e. the other people, the world] by adapting yourself to what you think the other thinks and what you wish the other is like—wishful-thinking as it were your way into the redeeming embrace of the (projected) other—while, by the same token, choking the daylight out of everything. Be the flower that you are. This is your contribution. This is your call. Give back what you’ve been given. Relax into your truest color.