The PhoB: The Philosophy of BEING: How to Be Your Authentic BEING

ISBN-13: 9780983042242 / Angielski / Miękka / 2013 / 152 str.

Professor Being

Opis

(Sept 1992) A Journey Into BEING Ahh Yes, alone at last. Me, myself, and I all alone, before the crackling of my mind's fire. And, now, to no-mind for a while, one week, two, three, we will see. I've decided not to wait to die. I've decided to do the thought of it, right spacenow Just another concept; is it not? Die, die, die... 'death' It could be such a nuisance. This noise could bother me so. And, all along, it is no more than some silly thought, a concept, some arbitrary, incidental projection from fears of not knowing WHAT is, from fears of not knowing how THINGS dissolve, the 'other' into the ONE. The noise of these mind-made 'things'-that live and die only in the mind-are to be put to rest. I look into SPACE and see billions upon billions of burning orbs without manifestations of LIFE. Yet, HERE IT exists. HERE IT appears, in thought, in fact, and in deed, a most incredible THING, some would deign to call it "miracle." Then, I might smoke and drink. I might add, to overpopulate these lands. I might abstract a BEING into a mind-made 'thing'... "the enemy" I might give military aid to those who kill the hungry. I might allow my 'self' to destroy a most incredible BEING. Those eyes These eyes of the children No monument as high as the clouds, no sunset of all the colors, no elixir to sway my moods, no ambrosia to feed my vanity, no thrills for my 'devils' to seek, no rest for my 'angels' to keep... can compare to the eyes of these children who silently say, "Please, love me." To me you seem lovely. Do you seem lovely to you? I never thought to be doing this... to be writing words for you to read. Is it fair to call me a writer or a philosopher? Perhaps. After all, I do enjoy playing with words... these diminutives that we tack onto LIFE. Perhaps, I do philo the sophia that I find beyond them. I prayed once, "Please, give me wisdom." But, wisdom never came to me, in words. I was forced by my desire to make an impression to invent a 'wisdom' for my imposing 'self', a 'self' that would be loved for satisfactory structures.... Yet, Humpty-dumpty had a great fall and the castles in my clouds did crumble upon the foundation of words my mind had built. Even wisdom is but a function of mind, merely a 'thing' weighing upon the tracks for those so ready to give their meanings to LIFE... so ready to cast noises for formalizing who we are. I have studied the old words and have found their common sense... that wisdom comes only to those who see through the 'things' of mind to these EVENTS of BEING. It seems there is some 'thing' to do, so that we may be the BEING we are... (to be continued)