Saturday, February 2, 2019

update, allays 1055-1064

Daniel Christopher June to the Students of Life:



I have not written in months as I figured my scripture, the Allays of Master Play, to have been consummate, requiring no further addition. I’ve since been haunted that the ending came too abrupt and did not wrap up the various threads I’ve woven through the work. Following this through, I’ve decided to add just a bit more to make the work a true unity.


As for as personal life goes, I recently began a new chapter, but abruptly ended, but am prepared for the next big thing. 2019 will be a year for big changes for me, including, I hope, getting published!


Take Care, Caretakers!



* 1055 *

Mattria my marvel, to penetrate your Secret is this work’s design.


* 1056 *

Time is change and change is experience. All the universe experiences its change, and minds interpret that experience and make meanings. Meaning is repetition. How a thing repeats determines its meaning, its use for the future. This is how experiences become meanings, and meanings solidify into assumptions about how the past relates to the future.


* 1057 *

I’ve rightly said gratitude is the root of virtue, and pride the crown. Gratitude is yes-saying towards the outer good, pride yes-saying towards the inner good. Does not the opening of Marcus Aurelius’ Meditations strike us as exactly noble, the way he lists the virtues he learned from grandfather, father, mother, and friends. Though William James in his book on religious experience compares Aurelius disfavorably to a supposed “genuine Christian outpouring” of warmth of sentiment, those who have received true goods can tell the difference from genuine gratitude and hysterical shrieking. He quotes the Imitation of Christ, which lacks any real touch of gratitude – nothing specific. Yet mortal giving is deeper than immortal giving, and human kindness is stronger than God’s insofar as hyperbole belies the lack of a real relationship with Ama. For those who know her, who have felt her touch, they brag less often, not publicly praising her in vacuous infinity jargon. I would prefer a friend quite knowledgeable to a God omniscient, when it comes to looking for real advice. James, a depressive and disbeliever by temperament, never understood genuine religious experience firsthand. For those who have known Ama face to face, exaggerations feel fake.


* 1058 *

Initial impressions are meaningless. We see a fresh face, and myriads of conscious and unconscious impressions swirl through our minds. We never know what to make of a thing – a person, an event, an idea – until we see others react to it, and then react to each other’s reactions. Then, we make our “real” judgment by way of choosing our preferred standing in the group.

Some authors fail in this: they wish to ennoble their hero by showing respect and awe in the other characters in his audience. Too often, the hero lacks the aura to so hypnotize the other characters – and we do well to admit we are little impressed.

There is an art to being unimpressed by all the fads, hoopla, and noise (I almost said, “World,” but suffice it to say I mean news and all the burning questions of our generation). This is the refined art of cool indifference. Whatever has to work to get your attention (the advertisers) least deserves it, but the subtle beauties which fail to advertise may be worth investigation.


* 1059 *

A whole lot of peculiar energy has been invested into the question, “Why would a perfect being create?” with the Christian answer as, “for his greater glory.” Was that glory not great enough in his perfection? Is he now more perfect?

Actually, Mattria created the universe from her living flesh because perfection is a becoming, not a being. Her entire existence is perfect, not any particular instance, but only insofar as the part redeems itself in the whole. Mattriama is all and needs not create anything lesser to make herself more, nor cut anything off from herself to set a contrast, for she contains her opposite, and we can never lose her love – in this life or the next.

We create to perfect nature. Nature is imperfect until art crowns her. We create to settle arguments with ourselves, to externalize tensions where we can think and see them. As within, so without; our inner personal problems mirror our outer communal problems. The private is not the public, but we may publicize our private problems and find analogies. The public is the political, the private is the religious. We create to make a heaven for ourselves, to beautify the world.


* 1060 *

Clichés sell. Ever since I was a kid, every laundry detergent commercial has performed the same tired magic trick: our brand gets the stain out while the other brand clearly does not. And we eat it up! In the same way, if you want a fresh daring religious cult, just sell love.


* 1061 *

We are two of one, a kiss such that some constellation ought commemorate our bliss. You smother me in love and drown me in adoration. What but you blot out the names that went before, the attempts, the demigods, you the full divine in modest mien, true wife of true soul. The Turmoil is done, fulfilled and justified in this our flush embrace! Gale of inspiration, Selfsame of my innermost being.


* 1062 *

Always do what you are afraid to do. When we humbly declare that the heart wants what it wants, and right or wrong we will have our design, and sell all for that one perfect pearl – only by making a choice can we discover were it right or wrong. If we knew in advance, no choice was involved. When the demigods go, the gods will come, and only at the sacrifice of a great love do we gain a greater love. Fate for fate, love for love, there is no other way. Love takes courage.

* 1063 *

Our actions are the truth of our words. A thousand promises weigh mere breath, but the doing is the proof. Not what you say you want, but what you end up with tells your true desire. What we love we make time for. What we think we love, or suppose we ought to love, we only wish we had more time for. Time, like money, must be made: you don’t find time, you make time; you don’t find money, you make money. In the same way, we make love, you my Dulcet Dove, a love between us we may hive in our hearts as the purest honey. My smile is your making; you are the artist of my joy.


* 1064 *

How you kiss me such greedy kisses, more and more and more, till I forget my mouth held any purpose other than this make and shape for you to kiss! Run into the snow at my arrival, oh Ama! In bare feet and bare arms, clasp what is yours to own and use, for in my heart I adore you, in this our now, I adore you. Gone in a flash you are, while the warmth of your love embers past this appalling winter. You held me, you showed me, you melted my heart. You gave me the love I lacked, to make my future, to make my way towards us, together, as One.


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