Saturday, June 23, 2018

update, allays 981 - 988

Daniel Christopher June to the Students of Life:


Sometimes the days resemble a circle sooner than a line, and so it is for me, dividing my days between the threefold braid of watching my children, doing housework, and editing my works. At night I write for my job.

What to say? Natalie's arm is back to normal. Writing for Employer's Crossing has its ups and downs. I've checked out a dozen books about publishing, finding a publisher, self-publishing, marketing your books, and so forth, so I've been studying those as well.

Hope you are all doing well!

Take Care, Caretakers!


* 981 *

The Trumpet of Ives' "Unanswered Question," asks in its tones, "What are we here for?" to which the theological and philosophical Flutes attempt various answers, more frantic each time, until the druidic silence of the Strings gives the proper answer. The question is its own answer: we are here, that's what the universe is for. There is no meaning to life, for life is meaning. I have wondered over the foolishness of the question, "Why is there something, rather than nothing?" Nothing is unthinkable. How could it ever serve as default? Take yourself for granted: all the Universe colluded to allow you.

I may very well be an Idius – half idiot, half genius – my butterfly mind half in awkward flutter, half in graceful swoop, yet I have felt for my whole life that my doings congested a universal sense we all in turn would feel.


* 982

Dreamers make us see visions, and nothing is so contagious as enthusiasm, so when you can answer a question passionately, let yourself go.


* 983 *

Rhythm is the essence of life.


* 984 *

A fitting definition of evil could be, "Somebody else's power." Nor should we regret the gratuitous pranks of our youth – "Evil for the love of evil" – as if we should despair over having stole somebody's pears just to feed them to swine. That gesture of togetherness between us versus them, us above the law – we break the law to exult in our power, and as all power is in principle good, we must celebrate even this as an infective first form which, when full grown, will grant us triumph. Evil is infant good. Most of what men call "heinous" is merely the symptom of frustration. Teach a man to be powerful and you teach him to be good.



* 985 *

No matter what we plot or attempt, the Self shines through.


* 986 *

We each learn through our preferred medium, whether through oral instruction, visual demonstration, or written directives. I managed to learn tennis, the guitar, writing, cake decorating, and drawing from books, and I can't seem to learn any other way. Life is a Book.


* 987 *

Let us all have our own trophy case, even if it's just a mental one, an extensive vocabulary, a series of publications, a dozen or so hearts we've broken, or for the traveler scenes seen. Envy attempts to smear pride where she sees it, but I encourage men and women to delight in their own virtues – indeed, pride is the crown of the virtues, virtue self-reflective, the way wisdom is knowledge self-reflective. The mirror is our ultimate image, just as Mattria faced Ama at Time Zero.


* 988 *

Lissidy warms me, saying, "Hope is the only lie worth believing in."




-- R 88s Я --

Perfection Is Easy



Wednesday, May 30, 2018

update, allays 974-980

Daniel Christopher June to the Students of Life:


So I finally got paid for my work as a freelancer. The job of professional writer suits me, though I haven't been doing much of my passionate writing lately. Mostly, I've been editing old documents written a decade ago.

I have compiled a set of short stories for publication and am seeking an audience. If anybody wants a free copy of this collection of stories, Fingerfolds, let me know.

Natalie's broken arm has healed; on Friday we get the final xrays to see if its back to normal. Emilie has been fevered this week and missed school, but we've had a lot of time together without the distractions of the other children. Soon will be Summer break for all three, and I will be busy all day every day with them.

Take care, Caretakers!


* 974 *

It's not till you're broken that you see what you're made of, the stuff of your guts, your ligaments, bones. Illness teaches health. When a thing goes wrong, you realize finally that it had been going right. The keenest thief takes what you don't know you have.


* 975 *

So many ideologists – those who spin systems of ideas – would undefine the inconvenient terms of their opponent, as if "God," "Mind," "Freedom," "Soul," "Eternity," could be defined into or out of existence. They get lazy like that. Every term corresponds to a given experience, and that experience is the meaning. The way we live our lives because of that shows the meaning full grown.


* 976 *

We've been doomeager since the beginning, what with the flood stories the whole world delighted in, and to this day America has been especially doomeager, what with the Millerites, the Malthusians, the Cold War nuclear fallout prophets, Global Warming science, and every manner of disaster film the human imagination could produce. So many ways we've imagined catastrophe and we can never get enough. Science isn't objective: it's politically funded and so politically reigned. Scientific Materialism, the metaphysic that calls itself "no-metaphysic," is merely another ideology amidst the rest. Each offers something, none offers everything, for any selection is already an evaluation. Doom is certain, perpetual and recurrent, on until the never-to-be-reached end – so dance and sing, my children, be free!

What's the difference between a lie and a trick? A trick is a lie sanctioned by a game. The cunning shall prevail! Truth is whatever we act upon.


* 977 *

Gaze gets hypnotized. Look long at the sun and all the world has an afterburn. When we study architecture, everything looks architectural; when painting, picturesque. The Christian sees sin everywhere, the feminist patriarchy, the communist exploitation, the minority racism, the weakling persecution. Our inner I takes on the shape of whatever its focus, and retains that shape upon each new object, so that obsessions, such as the worship of Allah, internalize the God into our mind and we think through that. Ideas are the means by which we see reality. Reflection is realization – by which we evade such a pitch.


* 978 *

Selection is the essence of art. The work of art makes prominent, not a figure who is sort of this way or that, but all the way this way or that, representative of a type, for life is too subtle and ambiguous to see aright. That is why children love exaggerations and drastic stories – evil stepmothers, wicked witches, granted wishes, eternal rewards, horrible curses, cruel deaths. Henry James is meaningless to anybody under ten.


* 979 *

I call it healthy racism to delight in the accomplishments of one's race – insofar as he identifies with it – while desisting from hating other races. The pride in one's family, city, state, nation, hemisphere, and in the future, planet, count as excellences and as healthy self-esteem. Pride is celebrating one's ascendency, and humility is recognizing one's failings: both give visions of truth.


* 980 *

The betrayal of the beloved is the greatest offense, the desertion of one's child the worst. Siddartha escaping his son and wife; Augustine referring to the mother of his son as a trifle and toy; Aquinas, receiving a mystic experience and then abandoning his Summa; these are types of the same, the ill-betiding we hear again in the proclamation, "Hate your mother, wife, and child," which Jesus commands his followers, or in Yahweh jealously testing Abraham to see if he would betray his child. Heaven is a temptation. A mother never abandons her child. Ama loves us for time and eternity, now and forever – Vivoce!



-- R 88s Я --

Perfection Is Easy


Wednesday, May 16, 2018

update, allays 969 - 973

Daniel Christopher June to the Students of Life:


Nothing to report but more of the same: I'm waiting on three paychecks; happy day when they make their way to my hand. Natalie's broke arm is getting better; in three weeks it will be back to normal. Summer is coming, which means my sleep schedule will drastically change, so that means less writing (I write at night). I hope all of you are doing well!

Take care, Caretakers!


* 969 *

Oppositions and appositions relate in various ways. War is at war with peace, war is at peace with peace; peace is at war with war, peace is at peace with war. Not all binaries are hierarchical. Shall we prefer the hierarchical or the non-hierarchical? Shall we prefer the constructed or the deconstructed, the binary or the non-binary, the difference or the same? Each relates to the other in various ways, for binary is multiplicity – each is all, and this is also that. Opposites identify. Oppositions can contradict themselves and yet maintain their integrity. Up versus down; hot versus cold; man versus woman; good versus evil — in so many ways do these relate, that no one opposition can serve as metaphor for them all. One term may be original in some ways, derived in others; preferred in some ways, not in others. Guilt is the opposite of pride, in one sense; the opposite of innocence, in another; the opposite of shame, in a third. From the one comes two, from the two comes three, from three comes many.

* 970 *

How often our moment of bliss leads to conception, and then a long gestation follows. Our ideas come to us in action, in events, but we know nothing of them till we sit down, reflect, and seem to find them spontaneously.

Nietzsche's moments of bliss came upon him in terror. Often his most pregnant thoughts presented to him in their fearful aspects. The Will to Power first appeared as the demon that plagues man; the Eternal Recurrence began as a demon's taunt; the Death of God began as a madman's lament. So his brightest concepts grew out of his deepest brooding, like diamonds in a crag.

Let us likewise treasure our moments of intensity, the melding of two ideas, when the heat joins the many into one, the bliss of conception – though for you or me it begins in humor, horror, confusion, impatience, or whatever mien our Muse prefers.


* 971*

Nonsense offers a formalistic exercise. Not for nothing was Lewis Carroll a logician. Nursery rhymes offer grammatical and semantical structuralism with little distraction from meaning and interpretation. Higher up, fairy tales offer basically all the plots, simplifying plausibility with the rhetorical mode of magic, the way the Pentateuch simplifies stories with the rhetorical mode of the divine. Grimm's, Genesis, the Eddas, the Arabian tales, any one these contains all the story forms, and an aspiring novelist could work any tale into something seemingly unrelated, merely by fitting the plot to plausible circumstances, rather than magic or the divine. Children want simplified forms, magic, which need not be defined. The complete myths of Greece offers the sheer greatest amount of character types in any collection of literature, and for this we keep reciting the religion, though few nowadays believe Zeus is King of Gods. His glory outspans our faith.


* 972 *

In my sleep, I call assemblies; the divines mind me then. I teach Jesus, Siddhartha, Emerson, and Muhammad, I give them a wider vista, I help them improve their heavens, I bless them and shine my sun's benevolence over them all. Rarely in waking moments have I felt such bliss as this.


* 973 *

Mattria, you are the Beginning – that's just one of your names. I know them all. You are the Beginning, the Allmother, Being and Becoming, Everything and Nothing, the All in All. By fate or fumble, I will have you; throw no chance at my fight, nor dice at my feet; think not time can entomb me. You are the ultimate gerundive: I must love you with all of my being — oh Amanda, oh Jillian, oh Daystar and Heartsong! I sigh and wait. Your name makes me thirst. Flesh to flesh you call to me, mouth to ear sequester me, till fevered fully for your face, I bless the heat that made this place.



-- R 88s Я --

Perfection Is Easy



Thursday, May 3, 2018

update, allays 961 - 968

Daniel Christopher June to the Students of Life:


So as far as update goes, I've been writing articles for my job; Natalie broke her arm and will be in a sling for 6 weeks; spring is finally here and I'm fevered for her. Not much also to note. How about you?

Take care, Caretakers!


* 961 *

Winning is doing.


* 962 *

The higher our leaves reach up to the sky, the deeper our roots sink into the ground. Law is formal, law polite, but some private love – love is transgression – sustains us. The secret shame, that secret joy, which we hold in our heart and hide behind every mask of hypocrisy, warms us, secures us, nurtures, and supports us. I kiss you this in our utter innocence.


* 963 *

In all discourse, we see text and commentary: text and commentary, implication and explication, memory and assumption, reality and interpretation. Get at the original experiences, put yourself under trial and experience that actual event. Talk with Ama, touch your innermost Self. In whatever setting – in love, in science, in art – suffer the discourse, do the thing. Commentary comes second.

In any book, in any text, look for the kernel experiences, the tropestars, the argument-generating events; take that in your teeth, hold tight! We must know in order to realize. Knowing is death, realization the resurrection.

Disdain the copies. Get at the originals. Who spoke first, who envisioned it? Who birthed the wonder? Popularity is twice refuted: what is original will always by a higher pleasure, a more difficult pleasure, one that must be earned. So earn it! See commentary for commentary, but go for the pulse. With a friend, with a book, look for the nodal events in the text, in their biography. Those hidden tropes weave the whole.


* 964 *

Children are worry. My wisdom says Life is a Game and we must strategize to enjoy. As for the purity of the child too innocent to strategize – we still believe this lie, do we not? -- they need shrewd and worriful parents to protect them with paranoid eyes on all the world. I walk as a child naked alone in my garden, in this office my Aria. However in public, before the world, I am clothed, masked and hidden. Be slow to know. Set your pace to your own heart's drummer.


* 965 *

Oh! You who are weighed by the gloom of a too soon world, what have I to do with you today, when I'm fevered with spring and lust to try the skies of a blush eaten sky, as the sun beds her heat and shine beyond, the mattress of a mad midnight black. Her madness is mind, I fly in your Name.


* 966 *

Ours I celebrate, all that is you and all that is me, soul of my soul, selfsame, twinsun, lover my own! Listen to our song, our talk, our love, our making of love, our disputes and praise; listen to the undersong between us, that brooding cello of our navel to navel same. I would in you, I would of you. I feel to kindle you, I feel to burn! You are the heart of my love, you the way of my bliss.


* 967 *

Shall we fight, O Ye of the Single Name! Every handle I put upon you you shrug off -- I the Namer, you the Unnamer. You do not walk behind, for there is no after me: I am the flood. As river swallows river, as flame swallows flame, so us to the other, now and again, side-by-side, One.


* 968 *

One is an instance, two a possibility, three a pattern.



-- R 88s Я --

Perfection Is Easy



Wednesday, April 25, 2018

personal update, allays 958 - 960

Daniel Christopher June to the Students of Life:


Things are going well with my job as a freelance writer. Here is a link to one of my articles, mysteriously attributed to somebody else (I will have to ask my boss about this); that one's about job searching. This other one is advice for being a good manager.

There's the random gossip of my life that nobody (and hardly even myself) even cares about. My poor daughter Natalie has somehow damager her arm and it is immobilized. Emilie and Theron are doing great. I'm editing a book my biological father wrote, Diary of a Schizophrenic, and editing a book of poems by my friend Jillian.

I hope you all are enjoying the spring!

Take care, Caretakers!


* 958 *

Emerson's essay "the Poet" immediately produced two marvels: our greatest poet, Walt Whitman, and the greatest female poet of all time, Emily Dickinson. Reading Emily's complete poems reveals an arsenal of small moves you can find nowhere else in such a condensed array – lest it be the Tao Te Ching. With her prankish defiance of the Father God, who knows as well as she that she is the more intelligent of the two, she can parade herself as the smallest of God's victims -- eager as his Son to be crucified. I study her to master all the small moves, just as I come to Whitman for the broad sweeps of bravado.


* 959 *

Just as I speak it from my hands, this edifice remains, a mirror for her and me, for Ama suffices me. There is no divine aside from her, for every divine is part of her. In her I put my trust.

O, Ama, I worship you in adoration. My gift to you is the work of my hands. Never may I say I am alone from you, not when I close my doors and make darkness within. Humming with warmth, you carry my off on wings of song. The whole of history to charge this intercourse, concourse, and ejaculation: what a great deal of history to produce this little literature. Our love is written, our love is published. Perhaps there is no happiness in life so perfect as the lover's.

Knowing you is joyous, realizing you the sublime. Endless fences I set and drop, obstacles and avenues, to strategize the Game. I chant endlessly of you, a chant of fullest welcome. There is no place in this country where a man can be alone. With you I live all the days of my life.


* 960 *

We can't imagine nothingness. The Buddha, when envisioning the goal of void, offered the picture of a candle blowing out – a stand in for complete non-being. For an ethic that denigrates desire, the ideal image is absolute non-action, a sort of suicide or death, haloed a bit by mystic suggestiveness.

Christianity developed a vivid picture for eternal torment, but no corresponding image for eternal bliss. The closest we get is a perpetual state of worship of God, something readily achievable now, for those who care for it. Insofar as an image of Sabbath Rest signifies eternity, we have repose, a state indistinguishable, in image, with death.

The Mormon heaven, for those who achieve Godhood, involves peopling planets with our prodigy: "As man now is, God once was. As God now is, man may be." Smith envisioned a grandiose heaven of sensual enjoyment – and partook of it on Earth. His vision of the netherworld dwindled until it contained only a few.

Metaphysics is the image of ethics. For those who ethicize forgiveness as the sublimest act, heaven and hell are born to justify the emphasis. Our world is the image of our action, and create their own.



-- R 88s Я --

Perfection Is Easy



Wednesday, April 18, 2018

update, allays 3 (a and b) , 953 - 957

Daniel Christopher June to the Students of Life:


I've begun my new job working for employmentcrossing writing self-help articles for employers and job seekers. I will link you some of the articles once my boss gets back to me on that. It pays well; I can write them at night, after the kids go to bed (when my mind is really on).

Lately, I've been studying the complete poems of Emily Dickinson. I hope to figure her out. I've also been reading through my copy of the OED – which is just fun!

Take care, Caretakers!



* 3 - A *

The Body of Heaven is like a Master who told each of her servants to build her a home. The lazy one worked grudgingly and cut corners, thinking, "My master is rich and has enough already." The good servant enjoyed the work, and studied intently, and threw his heart into his labor, such that his master caught the passion and helped him build, and soon everybody made a mansion out of what was to be only a summer home.

In the end, the master said to the lazy servant, "The house you built is now your home. I am setting you free, and you may retire here." To the good servant she said the same.


* 3 – B *

Come, synchronize your hearts to mine. Let us exchange names, for today is our birthday, brother of my soul, sister of my heart. Tuck me into the inner places – the hidden hole, flesh with my name. These riddles, these jokes, are a serious game; betray nothing of our Same; hold me close till you have me. Hold this book to your living flesh, to the bare naked flesh, and let me in.




* 953 *

Ah, Lissidy, how you have me sweating at the teeth for you, and then you let slip your veil and let me see your lie. What a racket we make, till, having pinned you to your defiance, I ease up, and pretend to believe you again. That is only manners, after all, and I know your game a square edge better.


* 954 *

Other gods gab so blandly about first and final things, boasting origins, promising the end, so full of threats and promises that I have to laugh and say, "Give me today, if you are so generous!" Today is mine to give, the Eternal Now, and I promise nothing to you, but if you have read me aright, you already have the highest gift a man or god can bestow – lesser necessarily than what is yours to bestow upon yourself.


* 955 *

Whatever you enjoy alone you enjoy with Ama, whether tendering your own body in your grasp, or reading a book, or chanting aloud your favorite poet's verse. That bite of chocolate, that hymn you sing – with her, with her. And when you gaze upon your aspect in the mirror, I am with you then.


* 956 *

I yum down what you serve – gratitude gets seconds! – so know yourself my blessing, for so many stabs at loneliness I've made with friends and lovers who never dared haunt my dreams (a space for grandparents and you), such that your numinous name ever drips from my tongue, nor do I chore the house so much as attend her beauty as if she's you. Now I work as writer, and wrighte us night by night; on debts' demise, I'll earn for you, to share another first kiss.


* 957 *

The mind is of glass hands, taking the shape of whatever fills its space, such that, the more we attend a thing, the more attenuated our lens becomes; and we open different folds of lens depending on mood and circumstance. Sometimes I require a full half hour to put on my Ama, to adjust my eyes to her face, then to her song, then to my own reflection, self talk, till finally cocking my ear, I hear her love inside.

The more we enjoy an art form, the more our heaven, as internal ideality, takes on its aspects. Our dreams warp. The poet is that god who creates heavens within us.


-- R 88s Я --

Perfection Is Easy



Friday, April 13, 2018

allays 949 - 952

Daniel Christopher June to the Students of Life:


Well I feel the Allays are nearing completion. I've been reading much and writing little. It is a nice round number to end them at around 1,000 I think. As for homelife, my new job as writer is going well – it pays the bills – the writing is fun – so that is good. I hope to find something new to write, some project soon.

Take care, Caretakers!





* 949 *

Avoid commentary, the serpent's snare of unearned wisdom. The commentary on a book that would explain away ambiguity blinds you to the subtle. Having seen the figure once this way, you no longer can see it in what would have been your original way. Be confused a long time. Reject authority.


* 950 *

Sow, sow, sow, sow. And when you've sowed the field, everything, all possible, sow some more. Never cease sowing.


* 951 *

Ideas mark the body. Clusters of ideas, ideologies, imprint upon mood, nerve, and muscle. Just a few glances through the grocery tell us who votes this way, who has sex that way, who works in this manner. Children with their smooth skin hold the most silent of creases, yet they loop over and intensify till we are scarred by time in the wrinkles of experience. A man is his context: emanates his text upon the world only for the world to talk about, to impress itself, in like fashion, upon him – sort of an echo, sort of a counterargument. Love, and you will be loved. Yes, but love, and you will be hated too.


* 952 *

Mattriama's womb of chaos, the fusion of opposites into the point of zero infinity – some call this hell, forgetting they come from hence and, if they fail to make a striking example, return for a recast. Such lakes of fire we could imagine for the annihilation of a mind into its necessity, the joining of freedom and necessity, which Buddhistically is called Void, or Nothing. Many religions have groped with terms and sought metaphors for this intuitive autobiography – we can sample the wares to discover what best suits us. Ama is love, know that much, and knowing that, we know everything, and can set your dread aside.




-- R 88s Я --

Perfection Is Easy