Soundbites Transferred to “The Return to Wonder”
from “Breadcrumbs” (Chapters 301, 302, 303)
Chapter 283
Loyalty: Priceless.
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Grande Nada Supreme.
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There is only awareness, everything else is babble.
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More vanity … Ho-hum and yawn.
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Why make it so hard on your Self?
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To the moth, I say, let the flame burn alone.
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Why judge the infinity of possibilities that You your Self are?
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What is your default setting, little self or Big Self?
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‘Tis so amazing, this non-existent existence.
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What a wonder those who cannot even begin to look to see what is true.
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Tired of filling space that does not need filling.
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Consciousness is playing itself out through you.
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Get humble.
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Only you are true.
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What's your calling?
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Absolutely under the radar.
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Holding on to nothing is not an easy thing to do.
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If everyone gave everything away, what would any get in return?
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You have as much access to the sun as any who have ever dreamt in time.
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It is a mind in ever-present movement that creates the other.
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Happiness is in the unassailable awareness within each and every eternal moment.
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Identity is merely a cloak of illusion.
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You are your Self, once again.
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Sip eternity’s infinite elixer.
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Did nothing again today.
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Benign in all things.
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Raise the bar.
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Théâtre absurde.
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Metaphysical, indeed, indeed.
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Why pay interest on your pleasure?
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Perhaps the only thing from which you can never be free is the nowness.
Chapter 284
What sense of both freedom and imprisonment imagination can be.
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What vision can there be for the blind, what sound for the deaf?
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It is the mind that differentiates all things, not you.
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The truth all have in common is within.
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You are as you think … or not.
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Do not mind.
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Do nothing well.
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So beyond any control.
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The perceiver is in all, and all are in it.
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You are that from which all creation is made manifest.
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Perhaps some of the most profound thoughts have yet to be written.
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If some confining dogma suits you better than truth, so be it.
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Letting pride sit the back seat is likely rarely a bad idea.
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Each drop must evaporate to again become whole.
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You do, indeed, have a fondness for blaspheme.
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A rich life can be had on a dime.
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How much is too much, and how little is too little, there’s the rub, indeed.
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What is reality? You.
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Zounds! It's true!
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What in any god's name is there to be afraid of?
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How wearing to care about so many things that have never really mattered.
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If you had any other moment, when would it, could it, possibly be?
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Why do you deny your Self, when it is your only reality?
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Join together in the ground within.
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God loves dice, Mr. Einstein.
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Settle for lies, and that is more than likely what you will get.
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You observe them, and they you, but likely not in quite the same way.
Chapter 285
Even the merest shadow of the movement of time can darken the mind.
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To see what is really going on, always look between the lines.
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Bits and pieces flowing alongside in streamtime.
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A state of mindlessness.
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What an absurd beast, pride.
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Why pretend to own anything?
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Another harbinger of doom, no doubt.
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This moment, too, is the ether of the nothingness.
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What to do when nothingness becomes the default setting.
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The grace of eternal life is in each and every breath, each and every step.
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A cosmic conspiracy is no doubt afoot for the many that harbor such pointless notions.
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Real faith, real belief, is the relinquishment of everything in any given moment.
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To be free of this body, or not, that is the choiceless choice of it.
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You must discover it totally alone.
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To neither want, nor not want.
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You are not the body, you are immortal, figure it out.
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Nothing honey.
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Nothing is all right by me.
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Every tool has its time and place.
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Every set of eyes a witness to a dream of awareness playing out consciousness.
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A full breath is the charioteer of the stillness so absolute.
Chapter 286
As if you had any say in the matter.
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Just another corpse waiting to happen.
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What is time and space but a function of memory cells.
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What incredible stress self-loathing places upon the mind-body-spirit.
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All life is a vast collection of seeds born of the same essence.
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Reality is in the still immediacy prior to consciousness.
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A pathless path as clear as awareness its Self.
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Harmony is in every streaming moment, the only now there has ever really been.
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Astounding all the things you have known and forgotten, and you ain’t dead yet.
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Memes die hard.
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True love of Self is the inescapable potential of any given life.
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How could your version of the universe have existed before you created it?
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The You that you really are is all you really need.
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Total madness, or the sanest thing you will ever imagine?
Chapter 287
So much for that idea.
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None of it really means anything.
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Through fire, the blade gains immortality.
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You are not perfect in what you say or do, but in what you immutably are.
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You are not of the conscious design, merely witness to its play.
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What does it mean, eternity begins when you die?
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What is freedom to you, a concept, or a fact?
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Shields of bullshit.
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Think jacuzzi bubbles.
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Thoughts are merely habits, patterns, babbling away.
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Open eyes are so easily enticed into the endless delusions of illusion.
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What pride need there be when you are the source of all things great and small?
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Live and learn, die anyway.
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Knowledge has its limits, that which is prior, none.
* * * *
Never say forever.
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Are your eyes that closed?
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You know all … in your dream.
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Amazing that anyone would take anything for granted.
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Every life dies, but the essence that is never born, can never die.
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The unbounded is discerned through limitation awakened.
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How inflated the mind mesmerized by the senses.
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Who is there to please, really, but your Self?
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If you want nothing, what is there to fear?
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You are innocent of all charges.
Chapter 288
And when all plays are done, you will still be you.
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Do you see the game you daily play?
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Memes, you are surrounded by memes.
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The remedy to self-destruction is intelligence.
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What can any dream possibly offer to the real you?
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Undying, this eternal mind born of time.
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Absolute freedom is the only given.
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Guard against it being about you.
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Pretty matter of fact, really.
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To want nothing is to want for nothing.
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It is the freedom of those who require nothing.
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By whatever sword one carries, each perishes alone.
Chapter 289
Know thy Self, and what any other thinks of you means nothing.
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What do you remember but the remnants of a touchy-feely three-dimensional dream?
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Prior to romantic notions of love and beauty, nothing.
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Be totally vulnerable, totally anonymous, totally true to the one and only Self within.
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You are herein bid to wake up, all you sweet souls and dark villains.
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How free dare you be?
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Oh well, indeed.
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A very detached vision.
Chapter 290
Any hell is of its own making, of its own design.
A set of narrowing, limiting choices,
Born of an imaginary field.
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Each of us wandering our own infinite universe,
Creating for others to discern what they choose.
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You really own nothing:
Neither your body, your mind, your things,
Nor even your existence.
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The last real freedom you had was the moment
Before the seeds of consciousness took root.
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The limitations of the mind and body,
Real as they seem at the time,
Are entirely imagined.
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The manifest world is but a temporal quantum dream,
Which all inhabit and play out as their nature demands.
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The ones who can play the fool are have the advantage on the road to Self-discovery.
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No matter how much you believe you know,
It is merely bits and pieces of a dream unknown.
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Seven going on eight going on nine-plus-plus-plus
Way too many human beings on this poor Madre.
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Merge into the awareness of consciousness,
And what duality can there possibly be?
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The senses and mind will always deny you your birthright if you allow it.
Chapter 291
The dream will out, and the we who are me will witness it all.
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The greater the anger, the greater the illusion.
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Seers walk a singular path.
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The Way sets the ground rules of the manifest game, not you.
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A daydream of sorts, and nothing to show for it.
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What is there to do, really, but love thy Self.
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Why not?
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Equal indifference to all.
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The play of quantum ether.
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Pretty darned amazing, this seemingly endless mystery to which you are witness.
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Can you ever be truly happy with what any other offers?
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Merge into the awareness of consciousness, and what duality can there possibly be?
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Dread is the anxiety over the seemingly endless variety of pains inflicted by time.
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The relativity of all things is immeasurable.
* * * *
To see this. is the end of the world as you know it.
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The brass ring is yours if you dare to be free enough to seize it.
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Why stick around for bad theater with a wearing and predictable ending?
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The yoga of mind is the unraveling of the veil.
* * * *
The man behind the mask is dead: Long live the mask.
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Can you ever be truly happy with what the other offers?
Chapter 292
Never mind.
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You are absolutely nothing in the most profound sense.
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How has all this come about, a mystery that has no answer.
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Be as an infant in the womb – serene, aware, unattached – with malice toward none.
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What consciousness hath set apart, let consciousness render whole again.
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Why bother holding on to all the memories of what has only ever been a dream?
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Every life form is a shard of the Truth, the Life and the Way.
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Manifestation is the limitation of one form or another.
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Remember nothing. remember everything.
Chapter 293
Nobody knows.
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Everything else is self-serving absurdity.
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Is that something you really need to know?
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No need to apologize more than once, if at all.
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Sometimes too weary to continue, yet still you carry on.
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Just primates in boots and heels.
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Want everything, want nothing, is there any difference, really?
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Fools tarry in the world.
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It all means everything, it all means nothing.
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Another drop of Soul haunted by the many voices playing out in mind’s mortal theater.
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Attain the immeasurable richness of the complete and utter simplicity within.
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Explore everything anew every moment possible.
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And Atlas tossed the world of mind into a new orbit.
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So much gibberish, none of it truly important.
* * * *
Same old, same old, for the very first time.
Chapter 294
What's to know? What's not to know?
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Bliss is the eternal orgasm.
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Get back to what you truly are.
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Where does coveting really get you?
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If we were worms, flies or cockroaches, would we be so proud?
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Whatever you think it is, it is, and it is not.
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Existence is a means to an end, nothing more, nothing less.
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Human drama, human trauma.
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Dissolving the mind one aphorism at a time.
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Equanimity is the eternal balance between body, mind, heart and Soul.
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What name can possibly be attached to that from which all sound flows?
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Are you ready to call it a life?
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It’s a two-legged thing.
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Game over.
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Be ... free.
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Awareness is the nectar of the beingness.
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Stand tall, rest assured, you are That I Am.
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Nothing can be proved; it is an experiential fact.
Chapter 295
Nothing makes some content.
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Only in awareness are you immortal.
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Another mind off out in the deep end of wacko.
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Be as simple or complex as you please, it is the same.
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The drama of ants will out.
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Every ear, every mind, its own translation.
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Nothing matters, everything matters.
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Alone again, naturally.
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Anything and everything is samadhi, yoga, union.
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It is all you, and you it, so what need to think about it?
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What matter the vanities of this world, or any other?
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Find the deepest desire, the deepest fear, and erase them.
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Prior to all cause and effect, you are.
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Dissolve within.
Chapter 296
Reclaim the birthright that is all you really are.
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Live now, die now, it is ever the same.
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You are awareness caught up in a sensory dream.
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To what would any delusional mind have to compare it?
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You would not bother with all these words if you were truly done with it.
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Discerning your universe, one seamless breath, one seamless moment at a time.
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It is only suffocating if you do not remember to breathe.
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Just doing whatever comes to mind.
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Nature is nothing but what it is.
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Choose your absurdity.
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In a league of your own.
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Many are called, and fools are rarely chosen.
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You will not discern your immortality in the world
* * * *
Just another entry in this stream of consciousness.
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You are not responsible for what anyone thinks or does.
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If you know you wouldn't do it again, then regret has done all it can do.
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What is so hard about being totally free inwardly?
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Ultimately, there is no answer but you.
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It is not your dream, or my dream, it is the dream.
* * * *
See which way the wind stills.
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Quantum menagerie.
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Be true to your Self.
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How free is free?
* * * *
You are all potentials.
Chapter 297
Give up knowing, embrace the stillness before time.
* * * *
Introspection, eternally pointless.
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Time to move on to what I Am is about.
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So infinite as to be both impossible and plausible.
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What is wrong with a little compassion toward those who really need and deserve it?
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We battle over nothing, really.
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Nothing means nothing.
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So much not to care about.
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Hate is a curious undertaking.
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No harm in admitting what you don't know, which is a heck of a lot, really.
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Before pride, all so-called sins wander to and fro as they please.
Chapter 298
Truth or idolatry?
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Believe nothing.
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Ya had to be there.
* * * *
Another long ago in the same right now.
* * * *
Another day's sweat and toil washes down to the sea.
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If you could read my mind, love, what a tale my thoughts could tell.
* * * *
What happens when there are too many monkeys in the only tree in the forest?
* * * *
"How many times have I died for you?" the Jester wondered on his newly minted cross.
* * * *
What a jealous, angry, petty, inane god, so many, with such diligence, imagine.
Chapter 299
What a mystery Eden; a shame we did not treat it with much more respect.
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That moment will come soon enough, no point endlessly worrying about it.
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Breathe in, breath out, eternal life, now.
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Do not call it anything, just be alone in the awareness prior to consciousness.
* * * *
Allow the clear sky back into your mind.
* * * *
From whence do avalanches begin?
* * * *
Happy Birthday, Son of Santa Claus.
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You are herein free of all and none.
* * * *
Any discerning drop knows its source.
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The challenge is to forget it all, and be the you that you truly are, have ever been, will ever be.
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Nobody can ever really see you until they see themselves as you do your Self.
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You are not required to participate in any way but your own: You are your own law.
Chapter 300
Skin color is no indicator of intelligence; every mind is a universe unto its Self.
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In the dreams of those immersed in totality, it does not matter what any other thinks.
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What to say to those who have spent so much of their time not looking for themselves.
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Except in the dreams of imagination, there has never been an individual soul.
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What you fear most, what you desire most, is what you have in imagination created.
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Are you this pretending That, or That pretending this?
* * * *
The freedom of being is in the seamlessness of each and every moment.