personal update, allays 958 - 960

Daniel Christopher June to the Students of Life:

Greetings!

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 ᴤ88s Я --

Perfection Is Easy

www.perfectidius.com

AMA LAUGHS!

 

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

Daniel Christopher June to the Students of Life:

Greetings!

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 ᴤ88s Я --

Perfection Is Easy

www.perfectidius.com

AMA LAUGHS!

 

allays 949 - 952

Daniel Christopher June to the Students of Life:

Greetings!

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 ᴤ88s Я --

Perfection Is Easy

www.perfectidius.com

AMA LAUGHS!

 

allays 949 - 952, the finish?

Daniel Christopher June to the students of life:

Greetings!

As I'd like to finish the allays, I daresay I am nearing the end. Only four this week. Perhaps I should ramp up for something new? This scripture I've written for 2 and a half years suffices. I wish to let go. Let's see if we can leave it with this?

 

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 ᴤ88s Я --

Perfection Is Easy

www.perfectidius.com

 

update, allays 945 - 948

Daniel Christopher June to the Students of Life:

Greetings!

Nothing new to report: I have to get up earlier to keep up with the kids on their spring break; I landed a great commission writing 2,000 word self-help articles; I've been reading Emerson's Journals (number 10), Nietzsche's Daybreak, and Paglia's Sexual Personae; I've been sending out queries in an attempt to publish my work.

Take care, Caretakers!

 

 

* 945 *

The inoculation of Emerson's Self Reliance went a long way in dampening communistic infiltration, such that they speculated the government "put something in the water," to keep Americans from red sympathies. Works of art, when they reach deep, spread throughout a people – I mean even those deep works of art that only speak to a few, the important few, who disseminate the logos throughout the populace. Bare numbers don't matter – the importance of the people convinced matters most.

Shakespeare makes the language. As the greatest singular writer ever to exist – and this comparing even to all scriptures – he has made a center of gravity upon England that will never leave. Ounce must balance ounce, pound must balance pound. The greatest heroes of mankind make history – history is biography – and they imprint their character on all of mankind.

A few books, a few stark ideas, sink the deepest in the phonosphere, the mediasphere, the mythosphere, the logosphere. They hold eternal dignity, they educate even the Mother.

 

* 946 *

Just as a chocolate cookie, if eaten in slow motion, voluptuizes the taste, so reading a book slowly intensifies the verbal bliss. Read a book as slowly as you can. Linger on the words. The best written sentences are worthy of getting by heart. Find an eternal text and read it over and over for your entire life. That is true scripture, be it ever so secular. Such a work, a legenda, heightens bliss in the word.

 

 

* 947 *

Where there is many there is no One. Who was that One, who was she, this mysterious Amanda who left you with an Amanda-shaped hole in your heart, which, like Cinderalla's slipper, is such a cruelly perfect fit that no other woman will do? Do you romantacize the past or have you finally learned what she always meant to you? Were she to return – dare you hope? – what then? Therefore, hold to the wound – it has use. Shallower people are happier – they so easily forget. Suffering maketh profound. You are tougher for the hurt.

 

* 948 *

That something has survived is enough to recommend it: immortality requires genius. Mankind was not made within recent world history (I mean the last fifteen thousand years) but in the million years before history, when our customs and nature were written in the scripture of our DNA. Even in world history, America is an upstart. America, a young nation, lacks the hidden dungeons, submerged labyrinths, temples built over temples, holidays made to efface holidays, and the shifting of languages, that characterize the Old Country.

Yet each of us internalizes the whole of our history and applies the logic of it to the crea, the creation of our daily world. Every great novel, every sage, every philosopher, our national prophet, our Oversoul – all these internalize virtually into all of us, and the scholar who studies each of these in particular does not disseminate this so much as remind us.

We may stand in awe of the cunning of Continental architecture, the architecture of the European soul, Old World subterfuge – the main topic of Henry James' novels – compared to American Innocence, which is just now passing adolescence. The genii loci of Europe, the Oversouls and their Overbraid, complicate themselves. Let them be "Eurocentric"! They have earned that right, if anybody has. All the world is Eurocentric, or Americentric. They speak our language, believe our religion. Yet the American Religion, of which Allism is a reification, is yet to command the world proper, and for this America must lose economic and political power, to become vulnerable enough to offer up her greatest gift.

 

 

 

-- R ᴤ88s Я --

Perfection Is Easy

www.perfectidius.com

AMA LAUGHS!