Inside, Mr. Kott’s skin were dead bones, shiny and wet…Jack Bohlen, too, was a dead sack, teeming with gubbish…Martian Time Slip
The telepathic jackal was devoid. Of gubbish. Gone was the gubbish. A swarm of thought jangle in story. Always story. Mind oozed plenty. But teeth jaw tongue tore into Barney Mayerson man-meat. Chewy. With much gubbish he was. While the jackal was without. Gubbish.
The man stank with dusty sweat salt flesh. Those wounds, fresh and generous, said something the jackal not gubble fathom.
Still. There within jackal there was gubbish none. Missing it was. Yet, an inkling. Chewing gristled gubbling rumination.
The fathoming of the sheer poverty of the usual gubbish was now underway.
Inward attention bends in on itself, spiraling around. The missing gubbish.
Galactic he is!
Beyond the jackal in his local
There was much muchness.
And yet still. Muchness more.
But gubbish none!
liquid metal sentient
Whorling stillness magma core
of pure ya knowetry of itself
Gone was the gubbish!
Here comes the leak of forthcoming, now arriving text on the Bible channeled from the One. Share that thing! It’s a Creative Commons Licensed software for your noggin. Find the Now, like, Now.
The Genesis of Now by Richard Doyle is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives 4.0 International License.
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If yinz follow your intelligence, that inkling of wit that is about to tell you just what it is you need to know, that cosmic deducer of circumstance over which we have no control, you will come to a fork in the road. Freakin’ take it already!
if language won’t work to do the job that it seems every mystic, including mobiused1, sometimes wishes it to do, maybe we simply must, pace Wittgenstein, go silent when we come into any awareness whatsoever of pure consciousness, the urgrund, Consciousness without an object.
Silence would seem, in this context, to be the yawning absence of utterance. But what freakin’ really happens when we shut up long enough to mutate? No wonder this blog went silent for sooo long….
In silence we may go non verbal, get still, observe our thoughts as a participant observer. Transforming the internal cinema of our self referential mind from a “talkie” to the apparently regressed form of silent film, we become capable of focusing in on what is right in front of us and crowded out by all the nostalgia and other resentments of the past, those blurring hopes, wonders, fears, of future: Now. Is “Now” what/where/when PKD will describe in the Exegesis as somehow “orthogonal” to the flow of linear time? Be still and know.