Fear No Emptiness

Truth is tribe-specific, mind-specific, moment-specific, fear-specific information.
You make a sound (whatever it is that your culture designated for a given fear)
And - bam! - everybody’s mind stops agog: “What? What?!”

I know one thing: there is no one thing, i.e. there is no one truth, i.e. there is no truth.
I left some blank space above and below for you to process this information
out of the singularity of your emptiness.

Fear no emptiness, certainly not your own!
"Boo!-ddha" is but an alarm call for: "beware of informational fullness."
Empty your mind of fear.

Your (and my) skull is a soup bowl full of alphabet; tip it over.
Fear no information.
Let mind spill.



notes:

Buddha: from Pali, lit. "awakened, enlightened," pp. of budh "to awake, know, perceive," related to Skt. bodhati "is awake, observes, understands" (etymonline.com)

Tuareg Wind Carries No One (revised)

Tap, tap, triple-tap, not enough palms to clap, not enough heels to walk…
Neti-Neti* Knee knows not where to walk, so it walks not-knowing…
In between the dunes of sand or snow, knowing Nothing but One thing-less thing:
Whatever walkabout is about, no matter how infinite the diameter, a dervish ain’t a dervish.
Thus, un-wind, Wind!
Sands of time witness you pass, zig-zag-ing between Form and Essence…

Been there-here, done/undone this-that.
Your turn: spin!
Your web of interpretation catches nothing but word-fish...
So is mine, so is mine...


pavel, the writer-reader, on a walkabout about what he ain't...

*"neti, neti" - an Upanishadic saying - translates from Sanskrit as "not this, not that" - an apophatic assertion of about identity (that in saying nothing, says nothing false)

Tuareg Wind Consciousness Carries All Mind-Echoes

Tap, tap, triple-tap, not enough palms to clap, not enough heels to walk…
Neti-Neti Knee knows not where to walk, so it walks not-knowing…
In between the dunes of sand or snow, knowing Nothing but One thing-less thing:
Whatever walkabout is about, no matter how infinite the diameter, a dervish ain’t a dervish.
Thus, un-wind, Wind!
Sands of time witness you pass, zig-zag-ing between Form and Essence…

Been there-here, done/undone this-that.
Your turn: spin!
Your web of interpretation catches nothing but word-fish...
So is mine, so is mine...


pavel, the writer-reader, on a walkabout about what he ain't...