ecomimesis

eros ≋ ethos ≋ entheogens

And, after undertaking to go over and pass through these visual-linguistics; upon
yielding to relate to another than I who is neither “me” nor “we,” simply remember
what speaks to and resonates with you in the forthcoming without looking for proof,
truth and certitude. Remembrance is inborn rather than a mausoleum; remembrance
is recalled in relationship rather than in clinging to and falling for memory. Let go of
whom you have been told and telling yourself to be; let go to remember what
speaks to and resonates with you: listening...

Let go of the endless pursuit for self-improvement, self-fulfillment and self-

transcendence by simply embracing what you have always been and will ever be: a
handmaiden rather than an empress and laborer; a caretaker rather than a
perpetrator and victim; a remembrance rather than a primate and blood cloth.
Resource your inborn nature over researching what is gone for good. Take the good
that has been handed forward to you from the past by letting go of all else. Take
what has been given without addition and subtraction, multiplication and division...

No one is a noun and number; no one is this design or that denomination; that
archetype and this alma matter. No one is better, less than nor the same as any other.
Each and every one matters equally in nature. Become what you are in letting go of
what you habitually, ritualistically and tribally made yourself out to be: an abstraction,
algorithm and attachment. No one beholds the all; no one is nothing. Each and every
one is but an intercourse and waterfall; a soundbite and witness; a metamorphosis
and rainbow of coexistence: heart-mindedness...

No one is the wish fulfilling jewel nor junkyard of another. No one undermines nor
overrides another; each is their mutual support and challenge in relation to one
another. Hence, bring forth what you are here to contribute. Each and every one is
but their own salvation in relationship. No one is their own guide and destiny, mentor
and mirror, confidant and echo in coexistence. Hence, after undertaking to go over
and pass through these visual-linguistics, turn to stillness by relaxing into what is:
being here. The precious is as invaluable as the ever-present origin: listening...
Expect not cornfields among icebergs, perfection
in impermanence and humbleness from glory.
Grammar 101 is like the Covid 19. Everyone is
affected by either in one way or another. Next to
anyone has an opinion about them. Both are
equally viral. Some recover from neither; others
claim immunity from being mortal...

Expect not to bypass the winter among the

seasons, to remain clothed in the presence of
growth and to emerge victorious from infallibility.
Expect not to have any say over the unforeseen,
unanticipated and unwelcomed. Thus, tree shed
their leaves, clouds shed their rain and the young
shed their innocence...
To be and breathe without having a name and saying a word; to relate and
account for what is without belonging anywhere and censorship, ecomimesis
is the synaptic link, bridge stone and hang glider between one shore and
another horizon. A twinkle no different than the blink of an eye; a twitter akin
to the snap of a finger; an intermission between the familiar, ecomimesis is no
ferryman and midwife; no archetype and abstraction; no demon and deva.
Part misty and part translucent; part whole and part parcel; neither native or
alien nor unique and special but simply genuine and solemn, ecomimesis is no
pathfinder and guardian, no atom and atman and no thunder and lightning...

Enough about that which bears no relevance to address. Who each and every
one happens to be is embodied in action rather than divulged in lyrics.
Become what you are over falling for whom you believe to be. Go for the true
rather than clinging to love. Grow out from entanglement in lieu of craving for
affection. Break free from the dependency of need in resourcing the precious:
being here. Partake in being here and the benevolent and beautiful, the
compassionate and invaluable, the conditioned and numinous are up close
and personal beheld in relationship...
To partake in being here goes hand-in-hand with letting go of the womb through which
one emerged in this coexistence. The womb contains the memory of the outgrown; neither
what is nor the forthcoming. The outgrown makes for the mirage of understanding that
keeps one stuck in the past. Hence, the future is fantasized about and confabulated while
being here evades one with eyes wide open and a heart fast asleep. Being here is partaken
in the present tense of relationship; nowhere else. To migrate from the past to the present,
sleepwalking to mindfulness and from entanglement to relationship comes at the expense
of thought, feeling and imagination: understanding. Rather than a continuation and
extension of the known, the forthcoming awaits in the unknown that no postdated thought,
feeling and imagination from the past, outgrown and the bygone can and does contain...

The womb and tomb of the bygone and outgrown, memory is just that: an interpretation
and thesis; a construct and meaning; a lullaby and pacifier. Memory is the new-age of any
outdated return to the past: creed, ethnicity and tradition. Memory is the socio-cultural
habit of obsessive-compulsive behavior. In the face and presence of the unknown, next to
everyone retreats to the bosom they innocently suckled on as children. Hence, instead of
development, there is attachment and instead of ecomimesis, there is anguish, suffering
and despair. To pass through the womb to being here involves letting go of the umbilicus
cord; it involves letting go of mother and father; brother and sister, beloved and relative;
friend and foe. Letting go concurs with relaxing into what is; letting go is to render oneself
vulnerable to the unknown, inborn and forthcoming...
Letting go is humbling rather than glorifying; unwinding rather than
confining; enlivening rather than depleting. Letting go cannot be done;
not through this technique nor that practice. Letting go dawns in
becoming aware of what is held on to, venerated, fallen for and
absentmindedly regurgitated. Letting go is no achievement, no
homecoming and no discovery. Letting go is no theory and no yoga; no
quantum physics and no archipelagic ritual; no medicine and no initiation.
Letting go is affirmative and open-ended rather than dismissive and
closed-minded. Letting go has no safety net other than surrender; letting
go involves no certainty other than trust in evolution’s ecology that
informs and defines, sustains and supports, prunes and challenges each
and every one’s being here. A process rather than a merchandise; an
articulation rather than an artifact; a witnessing rather than a withering, to
take being here for granted makes for all but a rude awakening...
Turn toward the unknown whereby the bygone rattles through your outgrown skin akin to a sand
storm, cyclone and the eruption of a volcano. Turn toward the unknown to come to ease and at
peace with being here. Turn toward the corpus of aliveness over clutching to the cadaver of
thought, feeling and imagination: memory. Be brave rather than complacent; partake in being here
rather than siding with boredom and entertainment. Become consumed by the intercourse of
relationship that rests in aloneness over substituting aliveness with consumerism. Unearth what you
are here to contribute over fishing for a plea bargain and a trade agreement. Remember rather than
forgive; resource rather than forget; reflect rather than neglect. Inquire rather than presume;
embrace rather than project; penetrate rather than prostitute the precious by making a name for
yourself. Be bold rather than polite; kind rather than superficial; respectful rather than misgiving...

The aliveness of any corpus rests in mutual respect: relationship. To relate is a matter of respect
rather than romance, religion and research. Respectfulness distinguishes anyone without
undermining, disenfranchising and overriding anything. Respectfulness dignifies anything without
ado, demand and embellishment from anyone. Respectfulness delineates anyone and anything
without standing in the midst of what should and should not be according to this grandfather and
that mermaid; that credo and this dogma; this theorem and that entitlement. Respectfulness
nullifies, vandalizes and violates no one and nothing...

Respectfulness makes for showing up over playing hide-and-seek, for undressing what matters over
claiming sanity and for retorting to silence in the presence of duality. Respectfulness makes for
dishing oneself for dinner in yielding to vulnerability and for taking hold of courage and faith
without which no one breaks through the eggshell and bubble, cocoon and armor that curtails and
suffocates the forthcoming from flowering: understanding...
The holy grail of ideology; the sacred scroll of identity; the sanctimonious
scepter of intentionality, understanding is as reptilian as survival, as limbic as
sexuality and as neocortical as novelty. A portal and passage rather than a
platform and podium to camp out on, understanding makes for the stepping
stone into the unknown. Mistaken for a pasture to populate and harvest, settle
into and set up shop, understanding turns to a graveyard, genocide and
necropolis. Understanding provides respite from tabula rasa past which the
causes and conditions for it percolate to the surface of awareness: attachment.
What understanding provides, must be let go of in the following; otherwise,
growth turns to grief; aliveness to anguish and being here to suffering.
Understanding is let go of in embracing inquiry, contemplation and surrender in
actuality. Understanding is let go of in resourcing the inborn by facing the
forthcoming without forecasting what the unknown, presumably, beholds...

What happens to be voiced here is in over their heads for most. Because, what
happens to be voiced here is derived from the heart-mindedness of being here:
listening. Present in the absence of understanding’s fight, flight and freeze
defense mechanism, listening is an offering rather than an invite; an interlude
rather than an evaluation; an encounter with what matters rather than an
anointment, enthronement and fortification. Listening speaks to that which no
one can put in words: being here. Fluid as the wind, liquid as water and
sensuous as the air, being here is inherently no different. Pride, prejudice and
possessiveness caused that which was formerly in flow to contract, calcify and
clog. And so, a finely interwoven organism that was in tune with the cosmic
whole turned to an autonomously driven and entangled cocoon of blood and
bone, egg and sperm, hair and nail...
 Having traversed from superficiality onto what matters and crossed from
commonality into an otherworldly environment, what does the heart denote but
the air canal and wind channel of nature’s respiration. A gateway rather than a gas
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goes for self, status and success. What matters in death is whether
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with this irrefutable mirroring, therefore
humankind has turned away from nature, only to fall for their own understanding
over embracing what matters: in-sight, com-passion and re-cognition...
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unknown. To strive and seek how to ever, possibly, return to imaginary
passion, there is worship and instead of in-sight, there is stupor, dogma and
paradise and pure land, undermines and overrides, erodes and nullifies
consumerism...
being here in likewise manners than such disorders as cancer and
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division is the longing for
salvation. What comes from conquest is a hole in the chest. And so, pause and
ponder for a moment what might have caused this condition?...
Death is as impermanent as each and every ecomimesis. A reboot
rather than an exit; a recall rather than a discharge; a revision rather
than a resort and refuge, death is life’s ecology; life is death’s
respiration. Life and death account for the evolution of any dragon fly; a
beetle with six legs, three body parts, four wings and no sting. Neither
first or last nor above and below this and that, evolution is the perpetual
locomotion of being here: desire. No Santa Clause and no Snow White;
no Shiva and no Shakti; no lingam and no vulva but the twilight of
aspiration and sacrifice, willfulness and renunciation, intentionality and
surrender, evolution is the gravity that matters. What matters in each
and every moment; from pre-eternity to post-mortality, is the
metamimesis of relationship: being here, in the absence of which
nothing and no one matters, quite literally...

Hence, turn toward the unknown whereby what matters surfaces and
ascends from embeddedness. Turn toward the unknown for the sake of
being here or else fade away in the morass of metaphorical unity. No
one knows the tomorrow that awaits those that face it; not those that
hustle and buzzle, agonize and argue over conjecture. The tomorrow
looks different than anyone makes it out to be today. The tomorrow is
ecological; neither matriarchal nor militaristic. The tomorrow is
evolutionary; neither sexual nor scientific. The tomorrow is empathic;
neither selfish nor selfless. The tomorrow dawns past the day of
calamity; past the knowledge of the known has collapsed in upon itself.
To reduce the intercourse of communication, coexistence, to graspable
reality is the same as trying to put the wind in a straightjacket...
Graspable reality is the outgrowth of attachment rather than the ingrowth
of evolution’s ecology. An apparition like deductive reasoning; meaning
made of limbic coupling and doings done from reptilian reactivity,
graspable reality is a figment of thought, feeling and imagination: memory.
A projection that appears as real as the motion pictures in a movie, the
stories told in a novel or the news disseminated by the media, graspable
reality is the contraction, calcification and clog up, the pandemonium, gore
and holocaust of undigested, split off and exiled anguish, suffering and
despair. Graspable reality is as mesmerizing as memory. Remembrance is as
organic as evolution’s ecology. Remembrance is inherent to being here in
contrast to memory: the socio-cultural habit of self-talk, make-believe and
tunnel-vision. Fact or fiction? This is left and remains for each and every one
to decide on their own behalf; a decision that distinguishes one from
another in no uncertain terms. Not to decide is not an option any more
than not to die is not a choice. Fact of fiction?...

Be it as it may. Listening evades next to anyone; occupied as most

everyone is with their own solar and imaginary soul system. Entranced and
spellbound by graspable reality, listening is treated as a commodity rather
than related to the heart-mindedness of being here: speech. Hence,
instead of evolution’s ecology, there is materialism; instead of intimacy,
there is spirituality and instead of coexistence, there is competition.
Speech, the soma of any syllable; the character of any connotation; the awe
of any awareness—from the visceral to the virtual and the sentient to the
sensuous—is lost on anyone in the absence of listening. The web of
listening’s yarn; the ocean of listening’s odyssey; the author of listening’s
acknowledgment, speech distinguishes information from vanity, organics
from mechanics and remembrance from memory...
The listening in every communication, speech is as
ethereal as the heart-mindedness of being here is causal
rather than corporeal or celestial in nature. There is no
listening without speech and no speech without the
intercourse of dependent origination: coexistence.
Rather than grasping for meaning and understanding,
listening is as discerning as digestion, tactile as
gratitude and as catalytic rather than cataclysmic as
surrender. Thus, without further ado, the following is
turned to: the ecomimesis of eros, ethos, entheogens...
Past philosophy and poetry, there is simply being here: sound
and sight, taste and touch, scent and sense. Before, between
and beyond being here, stillness is always and already present.
Voluminous as the void, compassionate as clarity and serene as
silence, stillness has no voice and visual, no contour and
content and no sex and self…

In stillness, the motion and mass, the gravity and gradient, the
dawn and dusk of evolution’s ecology dwells: nature. The order
in any chaos, the syntax of any noun and the gateway between
one and another, nature beholds whatever arises and
descends, is conceived and decays, embraced and denied. No
mirage and no parody, no altar and no fallacy, nature is neither
womb nor tomb but the mirror and matrix, synergy and
symbiosis, cause and effect of form and emptiness...
But, who is I that speaks for rather than in the name of nature?
Another wannabe of insight and intelligence? Another soothsayer of
thought to be enlightenment and realization? Another harlequin of
borrowed feathers and copycatted cherubims? Who is I but the
listening in every meeting, the vulnerability in every discernment and
the echo in every reflection: the conscience. Forever veiled and
beyond approach, the conscience grounds each and every one in
their indivisible individuality of being here. Irreducible to nature, the
conscience accounts for what matters: coexistence...

The intercourse of relationship, the wellspring of communication and

the rainbow of awakening, coexistence is nature's action-logic;
nature is coexistence's wisdom-display. The ever-present origin is no
different: evolution's ecology. Listening asks for no more than
engagement; neither fellowship nor understanding. Listening simply
denotes what language communicates: information. Any information
is but the spore and sprout, the fragment and fractal, value and
virtue of nature’s wisdom-display, coexistence’s action-logic and
evolution’s ecology: eros, ethos, entheogens...
The inkling and incentive that arouses and drives every
motion; from chaos to the cosmos and confusion to
clairvoyance, eros is just that: the passionate breath
whereby any aspiration is enlivened—desire. The
stardust and saltwater, the snowflake and dewdrop that
spring from eros’ airflow, desire is the mountain of any
valley, the apex of any climax and the sorrow of any
suffering. The bud rather than the bloom, the stem
rather than the sap, the sun rather than the shadow,
desire is eros’ artisan; eros is desire’s impetus, incentive
and inkling. So, what? Why bother?...

As long as going around in the same downtrodden tracks

turns out to be gratifying, next to no one looks past their
own satisfaction. This proves to be problematic in that
nothing is permanent and everlasting. Hence, to look
beyond in contemplating the preciousness of being here
is compulsory rather than an option, which makes for the
choice to decide. Namely, to tune in or out from what
matters; to heed the calling of coexistence or fall for
one’s own love, peace and harmony...
No one can outrun nor outsmart the conscience; not in this world
nor in the neverlands of nirvanic heaven. The “I” of any “me;” the
“us” of any “we;” the accountability of any being here, the
conscience is desire’s mentor and eros’ biography. Neither
graspable nor imaginal, the conscience informs without
interference, directs without command and absolves without
forgiveness. Yet, in a world where money, technology and
conformity are the sole denominators and supreme pinnacles of
interpersonal relationship, the conscience accounts for all but an
abstraction. Hence, instead of mutual support and challenge,
there is the conquest, competition and comparison In lieu of
vulnerability, there is pride, prejudice and pretentiousness. And
instead of gratitude for being here, there is unabated idealism;
from this construct to that paradigm shift and that priestess and
godmother to that patriarch and godhead...
Rather than a lip-service, prayer and thanksgiving, gratitude is the
indebtedness with which each and every one is endowed. No one
is the creator nor cocreator of their being here. Each and every
one is the handmaiden of dependent origination. Gratitude is the
passover of handing on the precious in resourcing and bringing
forth the inborn over getting lost in what is wanted, wished for
and willed under the influence of pleasure, procreation and
prosperity. No one is born as a blank sheet; each and every one is
indebted to the bygone. Gratitude is beheld in shouldering the
trust and telos rather than the pity and pathos, in yielding to the
depth rather than the debt and in living up to the unknown over
lamenting the flaws and faults of the past...

Gratitude is the sacrifice of each and every one’s self-actualization.

A chick has but no other choice than breaking the egg it is
conceived in to become a hen. A hen has but no other choice
than pairing up with a rooster for offspring. A roster has but no
other choice than unearthing the inborn to grow past its given
constitution. There is no first and last in this dynamic other than
the self-actualization of dependent origination. Self-actualization
is the passover of what is precious in nature: gratitude. Self-
actualization is the abdication of ideology, identification and
innocence that begins and ends with sacrifice: surrender...
To ignore, blend out and jettison what has been given under
the pretext of being better than coexistence, keeps anyone
forever caught in anguish, suffering and despair. Anguish,
suffering and despair, like sickness, old age and death or
thunderstorms, tsunamis and twisters, are inherent to any
becoming and passover; any meeting and parting; any arousal
and effacement. Anguish is met where choice leaves no other
option than to decide. Suffering is faced where desire
supersedes surrendering to that which grounds each and
every one in their indivisible individuality of being here: the
conscience. Despair is had in forfeiting to unearth and
resource, bring forth and pass on the precious: gratitude...
To absentmindedly strive after what is wanted, wished for and willed, renders
anyone and anything expendable. Such is the allure of power, profit and
prestige: vanity. The antonym of gratitude, vanity is the sellout of the precious
to the highest bidder: graspable reality; attachment. Hence, there is denial;
from desire to death and sex to self. Rooted in clinging, constriction and
comparison whereby the bygone is recreated ad infinitum, attachment not only
undermines the intercourse of relationship and overrides the wellspring of
communication but also erodes the rainbow of awakening in equal measures. If
all that matters and counts is the relentless procreation of graspable reality,
denial is bound to have the upper hand over the integrity of being here: ethos...

The fate, mark and scare of conscientiousness; that is organic life from the least
to the most complex organism, ethos connotes the whole rather than the all of
any part; the atmosphere rather than the nucleus of any phenomenon; the
integrity rather than the morality of any mentality. Neither celestial nor
terrestrial but cerebral; neither religious nor reasonable but neuronal; neither
judgmental nor indifferent but discerning, ethos is the vision in every voice; the
speech in every linguistic and the intimacy in every witnessing. What the mind is
to the body, space is to time and faith is to courage, ethos is to eros. One
without the other is like a map without a territory; an ocean without water; a
bow without an arrow. Such is the morass of metaphorical unity: delusion...
What bridges and bonds eros’ breath to ethos’ integral wholeness are
entheogens; the go-betweens nature’s action-logic and coexistence’s
wisdom-display. Numberless as molecules, entheogens are the
messengers between the bygone and the forthcoming; the ignored
and unknown; the exiled and fixated. The psychoactive and free
radicals of evolution’s ecology, entheogens vision spells recognition;
the source-code and still-point that renders being here precious:
compassion. For compassion to dawn, another than I must be
recognized up close and personal. And for recognition to come about,
evolution’s ecology must be first-handedly embraced, beheld and
imbibed without excuse and argument: eros, ethos, entheogens...
What else is there to add but commentaries. Each and every one, any
whole and any part, flourishes in relationship to one another.
Coexistence is a given rather than a take on what could and should
not be. Coexistence is the factuality of being here whose inborn
predisposition, propensity and potential is to grow out and up from
embeddedness: attachment. Being here; in whatever shape and skin,
is evolutionary rather than entropic; conditional rather than
proprietary; provisional rather than eternal. The locus and focus,
mundus and nexus of being here is to grow out and up from down
under the morass of metaphorical unity: magic, myth and meaning
that make for romance no different than religion, reason no different
than research and recreation no different than remorse...

The endless pursuit of desire leads down the same highway as

striving to renounce it; one makes for delusion, the other for denial.
Desire is no culprit and no Ahriman but simply the artisan of eros’
airflow: passion. Barren of passion, impetus has no value, integrity
holds no virtue and interconnectivity bears no standing. What remains
in the absence of passion is self-talk, make-believe and tunnel-vision:
consumerism. Lost and caught up in the trade bargain of need
fulfilment, what each and every one is here to contribute, drowns
amidst surviving to live. Hence, instead of coexistence, there is
nihilism; instead of relationship, there is righteousness and instead of
emergence from embeddedness, there is abracadabra: from alchemy
to algebra, gender to grammar and metaphysics to marriage...
Aliveness, the passionate embrace of the existential givens, is the
rebirth in every death, the metamorphosis in every life and the
effacement in every attachment. Aliveness cannot be had but only
partaken. Aliveness cannot be realized but only imbibed. Aliveness
cannot be transcended but only resourced. To claim what no one
owns yet everyone takes as their own begotten real estate makes
for a constipated riverbed; a swamp full of fertile soil and empty of
fresh waters. Had by power, profit and prestige, aliveness is
mistaken for procreation, faith for fear and courage for conquest...

To reroute what has gone haywire and out of hands involves the
same than averting a nuclear reactor in meltdown from completely
falling through the gutters; namely the ceasing of operation, the
containment of the radioactive area and the revival of what is
present from origin: listening. Clinging, craving and comparison
turn any growth into a graveyard; any forest into a coffin and any
galaxy into a mortified planet...
Eons ago, before humankind veered off their inborn nature to wade into
an ever-deepening bloodbath of hunger and thirst; an ever-heightening
slaughter of predator and prey and an ever-widening boneyard of fear
and trembling, intimacy was beheld as the integration of symbiotic
coupling rather than maternal attachment. Pleasure was embraced as
the assimilation of passion rather than related to the inflammation of
desire. Sexuality stood for the synergy of mutual support and challenge
rather than the oneness of plurality...

Eons ago, when vulnerability was considered a strength rather than a

defect, integrity was the validity of virtue rather than prostituted as an
expenditure, and when interconnectivity was seen as the mastermind of
empathy, compassion and recognition rather than an imaginary thought
field of sex, soul and spirit, eros, ethos, entheogens tantamounted to
nature, coexistence and evolution’s ecology respectively...
What has humankind lived up and comes down to since their
autobiographical inception other than wasteland of plastic bags; a dumping
ground of ideologies; a reservoir of anguish, suffering and despair. To
remake what cannot be undone is akin to a heart transplant. Unlike an
atomic power plant, an organic compound can be transplanted in spacetime,
as done around this globe day in and year out. A heart transplant involves
the termination of one embodiment for the remake of another embodiment
that only stands a chance of continuance in undergoing such an operation.
Rather than a surgical procedure, the remake of you, humankind, is the
contribution of those that have been sacrificing their heart for it...

What has evolution’s ecology in common with the Biblical story of Cain and
Abel? Equal spores of the same rhizome that roots every sparkle in being
here, mycelium begets penicillin no different than the sacrament of
psilocybin. The oldest and most common psychoactive entheogen on this
earthly plane, psilocybin beholds the prehistoric sacrament from which the
perennial wisdom traditions derive their intuition, insight and intelligence.
The intake of psychoactive entheogens is as interwoven in humankind’s
constitution as their reliance on oxygen. Sacramental rather than
recreational; holographic rather than hallucinogenic and virtual rather than
paleontological, to outlaw and criminalize the intake and offering of
psychoactive entheogens makes for the same as torture: insanity...
The letting be in every closure and the embracement of every anew
arousal, entheogens “do no harm” in contrast to legally sanctified fire
water: alcohol. Rather, entheogens spur the inborn to be accounted for:
wakefulness. Eons ago, before the cosmos was flattened to the universe,
conscientiousness crushed to morality, aliveness levelled to memory and
evolution’s ecology was confined to the G-spot and G-d, eros was their
breath, ethos their ethnicity and entheogens were humankind’s sanity.
Gone for good, the past can be neither mended nor revived but only
redeemed in the forthcoming future of the present tense...

What more is there left to say, truly? In the face of terminal cancer, to
bring one’s affair in order makes for a calm abiding passover. To
resource what matters is a decision to embody rather than a bucket list
to fulfill and final solution to carry out. To part from here in peace follows
on the heels of listening. Before it all went awry, humankind was a grace
and grit rather than a trial and error. Nowadays, humankind is the loyal
devotee, holy warrior and liberal servant of their own slavery; from tribe
to “me,” nation to “we” and the global internet to “thee” ...
Ensnared in their memory projection, it all but, seemingly and
apparently, evades humankind than a higher evolved organism is less
dependent on their environmental conditions than a lower one.
Having backslidden and devolved a hundred-and-eighty degrees from
where was set out, humankind is headed down their collectively
shared suicide mission in full throttle; utterly entranced as each and
every one is with their own health, wealth and happiness. To maintain
innocence at the behest of ignorance suffocates inquiry no different
than mistaking impermanence for infallibility...

A tango of mutual support and challenge rather than a chess match of

white against black, “us” against “them” and good against evil that
makes for the worst atrocities in any history, being here is
collaborative. All else is a figment of imagination. The only winner in
any warfare spells anguish, suffering and despair. Being here is
dependent in origination; from oxygen to embodiment and organics
to sustainability. Not a puzzle to solve nor a task to master, being here
is a matter of engagement rather than a battle for contentment...
To dish out hope in the presence of acknowledging what is,
makes for the same as promising a happy ending in the onslaught
of calamity: pretentiousness. Bygone for long upon a falling star is
seen on the sky’s firmament, what is human in humankind has all
but vanished. Hence, humans call themselves a primate in their
amnesia and view themselves as divine in their schizophrenia.
Harsh and brutal as this may sound and be received, as such, to
acknowledge what is reaps no reward other than coming to
peace and at ease with being here...

Neither a phantom, illusion nor a dream in contrast to graspable

reality with which women are as much identified as men and
either is as much enamored as their talk about tradition and truth,
heritage and consciousness, womb and martyrdom, being here is
inherently as fluid as the wind, liquid as water and as precious as
the invaluable, untouchable and immeasurable: clarity...
Void as the emptiness of form, clarity beholds the stillness in which being
here rests. The uncreated, unconditioned and uncompounded contrast of
coexistence, clarity is the other than I that must be recognized for
compassion to root and bloom in evolution’s ecology. The wakefulness in any
impetus; the conscientiousness in any integrity, the mindfulness in any
interconnectivity, clarity is no additive, no enlightenment and no fallout but
rather the gap and pause, effacement and witnessing in and of recognition...

Beheld in the midst of being here without going anywhere nor doing
anything, clarity has no origin and, as such, can be neither researched, made
happen nor realized; all of which merely stands in the way and prevents
clarity from being recognized in the intercourse of communication:
relationship. No one can talk over nor turn clarity into an idol of their own
making. Clarity has no genesis and, therefore, is neither caused by
something nor the effect of anything. Devoid of any and all attributes, clarity
has no genus, does not spawn nor is begotten by any one gene and genius...

Clarity alone beholds the answer to any question; the resolution to any
misgiving and the compassion for any anguish, suffering and despair. Met
only in facing the unknown that is resourced in bringing forth the inborn,
clarity is never-present nor ever-absent. Always other than what is, clarity is
the eternal contrast of being here without which nature’s action-logic is as
empty of value, coexistence’s wisdom-display is as vacant of virtue as barren
the rainbow of awakening is of color...
No canvas and no brush stroke; no mortar and no sculpture; no script and no performance,
clarity is neither the same as nor different than the integral whole of body-mind and space-
time: the cosmos. No Big Bang and no Great Spirit, the cosmos is ineffable in knowledge.
Thus, turn to what matters overs clinging to self-talk, make-believe and tunnel-vision. Turn
to listening over getting lost in what is wanted, wished for and willed on the hands of
delusion and denial: memory. Turn inward whereby the outward comes to rest in evolution’s
ecology: being here. Acknowledge what is over falling for graspable reality: desire. Become
what you have always been and will ever be in nature’s action-logic and coexistence’s
wisdom-display: eros’ handmaiden, ethos’ caretaker and entheogens’ remembrance...
Freely given, please consider making a financial contribution for these visual-
linguistics to further the integral cause of the house of synergies; a place to
meet oneself in relationship and face the unknown up close and personal:

https://www.paypal.com/donate?business=W9KNZSY74NEHE&no_recurring
=0&currency_code=USD

Thanksgiving is reciprocal rather than a lip-service; sacrificial rather than an

empty gesture; action-logical rather than passive-complacent. In passing on
what has been freely received, give and take wax and wane with the ebb and
flow of being here. With gratitude and equal appreciation, thank you!

https://spark.adobe.com/page/H8fr57g8w9ZMp/
 recognition:
nature's action-logic e
the witnessing of clarity
r
o
S

e
t
h
o
s
Being Here: e
the virtue of the integral whole v e
o n
l t
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t e
i o
o g Neuronal: sensitive visceral synaptic ≈ impulsivity
n e
s n
being here s Personal: inquisitive vocal symbiotic ≈ individuality
e
c Communal: reflective visual synergistic ≈ interconnectivity
o
l
o Integral: contemplative reciprocal empathic ≈ integrity
g
a
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w Integral Whole: Ecological: cognitive cerebral morphologic ≈ intimacy
e
the value of being here
a Causal: ineffable nondual holographic ≈ infinity
v
e

a
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t
clarity:
coexistence’s wisdom-display
the stillness of compassion
E
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 ignorance: to blend out and gloss over the existential givens whereby attachment comes about...

attachment: to cling to and fall for graspable reality: the self-sporadic, soul-solaric and spirit-cryptomanic phantasm of power, profit and prestige...

The whole of evolution’s ecology went into the making of humankind’s being here; from the stardust of the cosmic ocean to the saltwater of dependent
origination. What is inborn in humankind is as awesome as the outgrowth of mycelium’s “Fantastic Fungi.” To resource and bring forth the inborn,
validates what went into humankind’s making. All else is a figment of imagination. To settle for progeny, technology and notoriety is neither good and
bad, relative and irrelevant nor sacred and profane but rather utterly futile, equally in vain and wholeheartedly mistaken. Nature is no amusement park,
battle field and hospital ward; coexistence is no planetary placenta, play mobile and call girl; evolution’s ecology is no fairytale, laboratory and mirage...

nature: the action-logic of becoming and being here; relationship...

coexistence: the intercourse of communication; conscientiousness...

ecomimesis: the impetus of any art, the integrity of any ave and the interconnectivity of any awe; eros, ethos, entheogens...
evolution’s ecology: the ebb and flow of alone and togetherness; the metamorphosis of what is present from origin...
I release anyone from having to complete,
satisfy and fulfill me. I release the bygone
from excuse, argument and prejudice. I
release the held onto in yielding to the heart-
mindedness of courage and faith. I release
“me” to become what I might be: listening...

In and through listening, being here is

embraced; the unknown is faced; what
matters is brought forth and gratitude is
beheld. In and through listening, the precious
rises up and out from down under deep and
dreamless sleep: inborn wakefulness...
ecomimesis