All The Nothingness About The Whole

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Ruhan
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Joined: Tue Feb 16, 2021 10:43 am

All The Nothingness About The Whole

Post by Ruhan »

● A sickening ocean of pieces of flesh between them intersectable or intersecate, penetrating or penetrate, vibrating more or less together; an open sewer, a garbage dump

but all this revolting ocean, is eternally and continuously consumed; no trace of it ever remains: this eternal absolute aspect, is Nirvana


● The simple tac-tac-tac of happening.

No basis; Buddhahood is an absence that prevents dust from settling. And the dust falls eternally into the embers, into the non-support that breaks up everything and burns everything.


● The mountain is covered in snow
the wood burns
the Buddha statue falls apart


● They say there was snow; I've only heard about it, but it wouldn't have made sense to go at the window and see the name "snow" simply colored white and scattered over the names "asphalt" and "cars"

the world no longer exists; it's only a cemetery of names, words, and exemplary images
and therefore exists;
the world: bundling of names and words.
Wonderful book of the Dharma!


● It's difficult to understand that exactly at this moment millions of worlds light up contracted in elastic clouds


● ropes thrown into the embers
glass worms are mirrored


● Better to sleep since everything is like a dream: adaequatio rei et intellectus.


● Words break up objects. They immediately realize that you never grasp the object. Day and night, but there are morning, afternoon and evening, but there are hours, but there are minutes, seconds, nanoseconds and so on to divide. And you never squeeze anything. Yet there is something. But what? The simple happening. The simple appearance. That's enough. Words never grasp anything but themselves and not even themselves. Ahah, we laugh, but we don't laugh. I forgot myself because there was no me.

always on the dust
the bright mirror rests


● The cat cut in half with a shiny knife,
did not meow before
perhaps born already dead
for trillions of years;
and the master should have cut it before he even grabbed it: very easy! since even before he grabbed it he was already cut by millions of kalpas, as the beach has always cut the sea;
and why behind a cat cut in half is there always a silent knife?


● Is the cut half of that cat still whole?

The moon is waiting to be pierced
but knives and swords have been missing for millions of kalpas


● cats, dogs, mice, trees, children, monks, buddhas, arhats, demons, gods,
they are all torn apart,
and I don't find and distinguish a single cat, not even a dog, not even a mouse, not even a tree, no child, not even a monk, no buddha, no arhat, not even a demon, not even a god
just dots, pieces,
even these torn apart

the sword sparkles
and it shatters too
alone


● The video image on the screen crashes and warps; there is no person speaking, only pixels, some sounds, aggregated together

The monk's robe ornament appears in a mountain landscape two million years ago

Electricity bathes these wax cats


● save the cat, or not save it, this effort is already bright

illuminated by the moon is the back of the clouds that obscure it

these city streets are as calm as the moon behind the eyelids is calm

these wooded paths
trees smoke
incandescent
a coolness comes out
from the mouths of stone crows


● Neon lights,
filleted darkness passes through it
cold vespers
bells in the distance
old words in ancient mouths
stroll in inner city streets
palaces like hands that protect the flame


● too easy
to smile in front of a flower
after hearing about Mahakasyapa's bright smile in front of Shakyamuni Buddha

much simpler
smile in front of a flower
at this exact moment
before Shakyamuni Buddha was born


● the image of the Buddha,
there has never been,
needless to look for among those rags


● behind the mask
no face
nothing at all

no blessed kingdom
behind the ash tree

no spirit
behind the river
perpetually
in flood


● The cold of the evening, in winter, crosses the motionless frozen mountains that ask themselves: "What does this fire want?"


● The Buddha bites into the seeds, but the seeds do not bite into the Buddha.



● I finally realized that zazen is when you get tired of not sitting and then just sit


● A nuisance of language is only the moment in which a problem shows itself for what it is: a hallucination and drunkenness experienced by two or more than two

There's really nothing. Go back to sleep.


● Consciousness is only a very high level of passivity (objects are imprinted in me more than in a stone that doesn't register them, isn't aware, doesn't let itself be marked so much by the world, doesn't grasp it, injuring itself).

The stone is much more active than me, as it's lesser subjected than me. It's passively subjected only by what is close to it and not - as happens to a human being - even by what is distant in space (sight, hearing, exchange of information) and in time (memory and planning, hope, anxieties). And the stone undergoes it without having the slightest awareness of it, without the things being over-recorded on the poor stone.

Even when I imprint something into the world, I'm actually not really really active. I'm undergoing my internal electrical impulses that make me act, my karmic seeds. Those who are crossed by fewer electrical stimuli that continually command things, act lesser. A stone isn't crossed by any stimulus it doesn't act under the tyranny of impulses, but acts in the sense that it isn't subjected to stimuli.

The stone that doesn't act, doesn't think, doesn't grasp and doesn't allow itself to be grasped, etc., is truly active, has already reached Buddha nature. Instead, everything that is animated is at the mercy of everything, of all this hallucination. Man is privileged over the animal since he has a greater capacity to abstain, to understand with analysis the need to overcome dukkha, to say no to the impulses that continually tell him to grasp and grasp again. The animal has all the disadvantages of a man (which a stone does not have) or suffers (sensitivity, psychic suffering, recorded trauma, etc.), but it doesn't have the advantages of man (which advantages allow man to get closer to the stone) . The gods (if they ever exist) have many more advantages than man, but experiencing less suffering they aren't stimulated to use these advantages and so they die having consumed all the positive karma and reborn in hellish conditions.

The Buddha statue is really much more Buddha than Shakyamuni Buddha himself or all buddhas that ever existed or will exist. It's inanimate, it isn't subjected, it does not register things in the brain, things do not act in it to the point to imprint themselves too much on it and to the point that it(statue) must be aware of such traces as it does for an animal or a man (childhood trauma, or even just the banal fact that music remains in my mind). The statue of the Buddha lets everything appear, without trying to grasp it, without being grasped, with no need to grasp.

The world tramples on brains and leaves deep imprints on it. Footprints that deform the brain and then determine the future actions of this now deformed brain. But the statue of a Buddha has no brain. Nothing that can really be trampled on, no chance to act under impulse. Much less passivity have stones and statues, which have already realized Buddhahood forever.

In front of a stone or a log of wood, I bow. The Buddha statue teaches the Dharma whether it remains whole, falls apart or is burned.


● Everything passes without a trace. I too burn freeing myself from myself.


● It's written that He will gather the good grain in the barn, but that He will throw the chaff into an unquenchable fire.

What nonsense! Why don't you burn good wheat too? Why do you condemn the barn to gather a so great burden forever? Why do you condemn good wheat to be harvested? Precisely because it's "good" it should be rewarded with flames!

If even the chaff has fire as a reward, why should good wheat not participate in this prize?

Blessed is the chaff as it will burn in an unquenchable fire and leave no trace!



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