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helpfuldemon

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The world is so much of what it is.  And what is it? If you don't pay attention to it, it is nothing but what you create.

 

Should we pay attention?  What power do we have over things that other people do?  What power do we have to affect what our governors do, the price that people set for items, the wages that they propose?  I live in the underbelly; a coaster, a liver of life- but am I really living my best life?  

 

I have no responsibilities.  I am not  a parent, or a tax payer, or a laborer.  I have only ever been a servant.  In my free time I used to create, but not any more.  My life was on course to be unique, which I may be- but then, so is anyone.  I thought that I would be inventive, but it was cut short by the supernatural.  What did it give me?  Suffering, and it opened my eyes to what is around me, but... what is REALLY around me?  Quiet neighbors working their jobs and raising families or minding their own business.  

 

Art is available, but is it life?  Does it really imitate life, or does life have it's own plot?  The news programs make us think that so much is happening, and perhaps it is, but is it your life?  What do you do when you don't participate in the culture that is shown on television?  Are we simply chasing someone else's dreams?  

 

I am a demon; we all are.  The part of us that is demon is the mind.  The part of us that is human is the flesh.  We are sensual creatures that know what we enjoy.  We employ our bodies in the act of securing our comforts and needs, but it is our minds that explain what we do, and it is our minds that plan and prepare us for new events and activities.  

 

What is our mind?  Is it telling me "I want"?  Is it telling me "I must do"?  Is it seeing the patterns of life?  Is it preparing us for our future choices?  When one is not in charge of anything, and one is not part of anything, our minds are our playground.

 

I wish I had become someone in life.  I never thought that I could, never knew how to do it.  I am a poor boy, with little education.  I matter to few, and what I do matters even less.  My opinion is not important, and neither am I.  I have learned that the true life is not in the realm of ideals, it is a matter of compromises and questions that provoke new alternatives to handle the ever expanding, vast process we call civilization.  

 

I wonder... what should matter to me?  Should I try to alleviate suffering?  Should I try to educate or entertain?  In today's world it is almost impossible to do these things without joining some establishment, and I have no credentials, and my talents are unrefined.  Does anything I do even matter?  You might be thinking, "It matters to you", but it really doesn't; nothing matters to me.  I am a broken thing, my youth and sharpness has been wasted pursuing some phantom quest that proved to be a false lead on a fortune that I did not find.  I am a wasted body, filled with decay from my excesses.  My reach goes no further than the toilet in my bathroom.

 

And what should I do, now that I "know"?  Now that I finally understand life and it's terms?  Everywhere I look there is an opinion, or a story, or a song about life and it's trials and choices.  What good is my voice, when I have no refined talent to reveal and inform?  I am just another opinion, in a sea of opinions and compromises, and stories about right and wrong.

 

I spend my days sitting silently.  I sleep often, and I find little joy in anything to distract me from this path.  I have stopped reading, because reading is an endless task that will never be satisfied.  I find that I do not need information, and I wonder why so many people do?  Is the truth not simple enough to understand?  Or are we on a constant quest to renew or distract us from it?  I have no excuses, I have lived my life.  It was not spent selfishly, but it was spent wastefully, and I thought I enjoyed what I pursued, but so much of it has been a suffering condition put upon me.  

 

I am out of faith.  I do not have to hope.  The world is what it is, and it turns as Nature intends, and as human beings decide.  It exists without my influence, and it is indifferent to my condition.  If I gave up my ideals I could pursue the laughing path of madness that I see, and contribute to the story line of good and evil, but to me it is so much chaos.  I have no need for money, nothing I buy satisfies me.  I am a hideous thing now and will draw no lover, even with wealth.  And even should a lover come, I find no pleasure in intimacy of the body or the mind, for there is no one in this world that I have met that can satisfy my expectations of who a person should be.  I am not of the talented class, and so I will never know anyone that is intriguing, exciting and concerned.  Perhaps if I found success I could enter those worlds, but as I said, to me it is all chaos and stories that we keep repeating; there is no new lesson, just new ways to reveal it, and I am done being creative.  

 

Perhaps my sharing this moment with you will rebirth me.  I see possibility as I write about my despondency.  

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Welcome to the Tao Bums.  A wonderful forum to learn, discuss and cultivate.  Below are 3 important sections: Our Rules, The Insult Policy and our 3 Foundations.  Before you join give them a read. 

 

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Welcome, I think I get a little of what you mean.  Often it feels like I spend my life wasting my time. 

 

I try to shrug it off.  Get up early, find the one important thing.  Get it done.  then.. something else.  When we can't find Our Meaning we turn to a list of actions..

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On 5/1/2020 at 1:39 AM, helpfuldemon said:

The world is so much of what it is.  And what is it? If you don't pay attention to it, it is nothing but what you create.

 

Should we pay attention?  What power do we have over things that other people do?  What power do we have to affect what our governors do, the price that people set for items, the wages that they propose?  I live in the underbelly; a coaster, a liver of life- but am I really living my best life?  

 

I have no responsibilities.  I am not  a parent, or a tax payer, or a laborer.  I have only ever been a servant.  In my free time I used to create, but not any more.  My life was on course to be unique, which I may be- but then, so is anyone.  I thought that I would be inventive, but it was cut short by the supernatural.  What did it give me?  Suffering, and it opened my eyes to what is around me, but... what is REALLY around me?  Quiet neighbors working their jobs and raising families or minding their own business.  

 

Art is available, but is it life?  Does it really imitate life, or does life have it's own plot?  The news programs make us think that so much is happening, and perhaps it is, but is it your life?  What do you do when you don't participate in the culture that is shown on television?  Are we simply chasing someone else's dreams?  

 

I am a demon; we all are.  The part of us that is demon is the mind.  The part of us that is human is the flesh.  We are sensual creatures that know what we enjoy.  We employ our bodies in the act of securing our comforts and needs, but it is our minds that explain what we do, and it is our minds that plan and prepare us for new events and activities.  

 

What is our mind?  Is it telling me "I want"?  Is it telling me "I must do"?  Is it seeing the patterns of life?  Is it preparing us for our future choices?  When one is not in charge of anything, and one is not part of anything, our minds are our playground.

 

I wish I had become someone in life.  I never thought that I could, never knew how to do it.  I am a poor boy, with little education.  I matter to few, and what I do matters even less.  My opinion is not important, and neither am I.  I have learned that the true life is not in the realm of ideals, it is a matter of compromises and questions that provoke new alternatives to handle the ever expanding, vast process we call civilization.  

 

I wonder... what should matter to me?  Should I try to alleviate suffering?  Should I try to educate or entertain?  In today's world it is almost impossible to do these things without joining some establishment, and I have no credentials, and my talents are unrefined.  Does anything I do even matter?  You might be thinking, "It matters to you", but it really doesn't; nothing matters to me.  I am a broken thing, my youth and sharpness has been wasted pursuing some phantom quest that proved to be a false lead on a fortune that I did not find.  I am a wasted body, filled with decay from my excesses.  My reach goes no further than the toilet in my bathroom.

 

And what should I do, now that I "know"?  Now that I finally understand life and it's terms?  Everywhere I look there is an opinion, or a story, or a song about life and it's trials and choices.  What good is my voice, when I have no refined talent to reveal and inform?  I am just another opinion, in a sea of opinions and compromises, and stories about right and wrong.

 

I spend my days sitting silently.  I sleep often, and I find little joy in anything to distract me from this path.  I have stopped reading, because reading is an endless task that will never be satisfied.  I find that I do not need information, and I wonder why so many people do?  Is the truth not simple enough to understand?  Or are we on a constant quest to renew or distract us from it?  I have no excuses, I have lived my life.  It was not spent selfishly, but it was spent wastefully, and I thought I enjoyed what I pursued, but so much of it has been a suffering condition put upon me.  

 

I am out of faith.  I do not have to hope.  The world is what it is, and it turns as Nature intends, and as human beings decide.  It exists without my influence, and it is indifferent to my condition.  If I gave up my ideals I could pursue the laughing path of madness that I see, and contribute to the story line of good and evil, but to me it is so much chaos.  I have no need for money, nothing I buy satisfies me.  I am a hideous thing now and will draw no lover, even with wealth.  And even should a lover come, I find no pleasure in intimacy of the body or the mind, for there is no one in this world that I have met that can satisfy my expectations of who a person should be.  I am not of the talented class, and so I will never know anyone that is intriguing, exciting and concerned.  Perhaps if I found success I could enter those worlds, but as I said, to me it is all chaos and stories that we keep repeating; there is no new lesson, just new ways to reveal it, and I am done being creative.  

 

Perhaps my sharing this moment with you will rebirth me.  I see possibility as I write about my despondency.  

 

What eloquent nihilism. You do have a gift with flowing words - even if they express what comes across to me as a very deep melancholy.

 

Do you write for yourself, such as journaling?

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Posted (edited)

Wow helpfuldemon.

 

That was one potent sharing.  It struck a chord of resonation in me.  Sympathetic vibration.

 

I share much empathy with your described process and state.  Sounds like you're in the place of 'No Mountain'. 

 

One of the aspects of awakening that I did not expect, was the loss of connection.  All former pursuits that used to bring relief, or loss of time, increase of knowledge.  All former drives, have been reduced to gossamer, vaporous processes that can still be engaged in... i can play the game.  But they are perceived as inherently illusory and thus, no longer possess gravity to engage me as they used to.

 

It's an aspect of the process some of my early teacher's realized and perhaps was one reason why they seemed so insistent to not teach me, send me on my way and caution me to 'be careful what i sought for... i may find it.'

 

 

 

Your sharing reminds me of Adyashanti's sharing about the nature of the path of waking.

 

"Most of us want to feel better, we don't actually want to see that we're misperceiving things.  But that's the core of spirituality.  And the only way to really wake up is to realize that the way you perceive yourself is not true."
Adyashanti

 

I don't want to feel better, I want to burn through illusion and assumption and awaken to my true nature.

This does not result in a life of ease and comfort... most often it involves deeply painful realizations about the nature of my own misperceivings and illusory projections.

 

"Enlightenment is a destructive process. It
has nothing to do with becoming better or being happier.
Enlightenment is the crumbling away of untruth.
It's seeing through the facade of pretence.
It's the complete eradication of everything we imagined to be true.”
 Adyashanti

 

Welcome to the Bums and thanks for such authentic and intimate sharing.

Edited by silent thunder
reworded for clarity

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Thank you for reading my post.  I think we take for granted that people spend the time reading what we write and considering our thoughts.  I think too, that we take for granted what we know on forums like this, things that would be so revealing to the world.

 

I do not write for myself, though I should.  I imagine a trove of writings on my death, discovered or discarded, that might bring some truth into peoples lives, but lately the truth has been silence, and I am not sure who wants that.

 

I am not so despondent these days as when I wrote this, as the welcomer said, you find things to do and ignore some of these deeper issues.  I am learning to come to terms with the fact that we are like the ocean with the tide coming in and out, and the water ever present.  I just cant bring myself to contributing to what could potentially lead to illusion (making art).

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Speaking of enlightenment, I see oodles of truth now.  The most important of which is that I now understand Law, though not in quite the detail that it can be understood, I have a grasp on what is right and wrong in our world.  

 

The biggest disappointment with becoming knowing is that I realize we all have the right to choose how we want to live.  This should be a good thing, no?  Well for me, it means that people can be indifferent or mean, or angry and abusive (though not truly abusive, but still ignorant in light of kindness), people are free to live and be who they like, and as far as order on that realm, there will be none.  I can imagine a perfect path through life but if it falls on deaf ears then it is nothing.  Surely all wisdom cultures feel this way.  When it comes to personal choice about how to live, there is no right or wrong.  The only right or wrong is when it comes to other peoples rights and property.  

 

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Oh, how Ive mourned our condition.  Mourning our fragility, and our belief in immortality, that we are impervious to the dangers that we face.  Mourned that we cannot agree on order, mourned that we cannot live up to the word kindness.  Mourned that we allow our lives to pass us by without taking the actions to make it what we choose to be.

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Ive come to find that at the end of contemplation lies the awareness of Nothingness. The mystic will find that there is no more Will or want, and that All is silent. But Nothingness is not life, and so the mystic must turn back towards life- which is desire and duty. What does the encounter with Nothingness bring? The mystic has three choices: Acquisition, chaos, and kindness. In Nothingness is no meaning, and in a meaningless world, one is free to have no Law- and so they could choose Chaos. But that is not so productive as the other two options, which are acquisition and kindness, for in life there is a need for meaning, and the meaning is found in duty and desire. Acquisition of the experiences of life and the material, and or kindness, which is the result of knowing that behind all of this is a form of chaos and suffering which can only be aided by kindness.

Edited by helpfuldemon

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