Notes from a Kalachakra*


If I be distilled, I discover that I am no more distinct from you as you are from your eyes, hair and bones; as the moon is to the earth; the planets to the stars—I remain a part of you; forever in flux and in rhythm; where space and emptiness prevails not because of the lack of anything, but because the pervasive being, the basis for us and every other particle around us, is beyond the conception of any boundaries and originations; and so we gradually and thoughtlessly diffuse the superficial “us” and flow seamlessly from one matter to another; one being to another; one thought to the next; and so on in the vast and minute and timeless nature of our reality, I we us become nothing; not in the sense of discovery or ability, but because it is inextricably who we are; so that we become nature; we become laws; we become truths; and thusly we were never distinct or together; for how can we begin to imagine that which is irreducible, and how can anything that is within us be within just me; this is the fundamental unlaw, untruth; it is no truth just as a mountain is no truism—we do not understand, discover or unravel; it is no disease that needs diagnosis; no treasure that needs discovering; it is not a mystery that needs solving. It simply is.

*Shit I wrote while trying not to fall asleep inside an arena in Washington, D.C.


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