Labels and dichotomies stand across an open lake, waving goodbye from a shore of illusions. Thank you for my categories, my shallnots and wouldbes -- they were useful for a while, helped me on my journey, but now is the time when all heroes toss off their skirts and dive in naked, free from dichotomies and labels.

I am so conditioned, grasping at propriety even in the face of….. I can't say it, can't even form the words, lest they violate this insanely thorough version of modesty and propriety I have put on so thoroughly. He was a Holy Man; I was a…..well, I don't say those words anymore -- my modesty and propriety wouldn't allow.

If you saw me dancing, you'd not think me so proper lowcutbutnolongerleatherclad idtakeoffyourheadifyougottooclose. Friendlier now, I am -- my puttingonthegodcloak no longer leads to mostlywrathfulandnowirritatedatyourintrusiongod. He wanted me even then, eighteenyearsago assoonastearyouapartaslookat'ya and he, so benevolent, so respectful, so kind. Whatsagirltodo? Propriety and modesty -- they seemed the understandingsistersofthisnewrole. See, I'd always known who they were -- I just disregarded their prominence in the worldaswekno/ewit. Overrated, they are. I know who propriety is -- know all about her -- will walk right up to her and lick her cheek, ask for a bite of her cheesecake while she eats it walking down the street. Whatchgonnado? Throw rocks at me, 'cuz I don't worshipyourmistresspropriety? I am a free and autonomous being -- don't you pidlyhumansthreatenmewithyoursocialconventions -- illmoveyourelectronswhenyou'renotlooking -- I was surly, overcaffeinated and sexuallyfrustrated -- it was best not to approach me when I danced. donotmakeyecontact oryouwillseeyourselfasidoasfood……… donotstepnearthedakini leastnotthatone leastnotnow.

Now, I am friendly. I still can't look directly at while I see completely through anything in this reality, but I'm friendly enough if one of them talkstome hugsme orotherwiseinterjectstospeak. I love them, you see. All of them. I didn't understand, didn't have compassion, but I'm much better now. Feeling much better. I love you -- I won't eat you -- even by accident, even when I'm dancing.

My spine does that thing now, that thing I associate from my years in the Indianese Territory as 'uppity.' (Colloquial Indianese: 'one who walks with unnecessarily well-aligned posture'; historically associated with royalty. Use traces etymology back to time in genetic history when inhabitant's ancestors lived as serfs and peasants and were forbidden from standing erect when an alpha-status member of their pack assumed this posture, thus the warning against such a thing is meant to protect a tribe member from being harmed; however, the custom also explains the slightly slumped, rounded-shoulder, neck forward posture common in the Indianese territory that leads to the spine pain and injuries so common there.) Correct spinal alignment = uppity, or so I was told. Thinkyou'rebetterthaneveryone standingupstraighlikeafreewo/man. Conventional reality, bending and breaking us, demanding we stand like monkeys again.

I saw a band, or I saw an experience with hearing a band, a band of what? a band of what. Fulled with what. Swimming in what. What is the sound of sound? It was…. what do you call it? yeah……

Infinite. So they say.

If I am me, and embody that right through my spine, my conditioning arises and my ego calls me uppity. I have overdone humility, my guru says. Have unheeded the warnings (specified explicitly in the Tantra) that one can overdo both humility and austerity to the point of ignoring reality. Middleway, he says, sometimes repeatedly. If you are at an extreme in your view, you are not in the middle.

Except sometimes. (One can eve too be too extreme in one's nonextremism, leading thus, to extremes. There are three other cases as well…..) It is all too much for me to track, too many aspects in infinity to remember them all. (Which is why he is my guru -- I store many of those things in his head. It is not separate from my own -- the words just come out of a different mouth.) We talked about roles, about making union explicit, about deepeningthepractice sotospeak.

So conditioned in my propriety, having so disregarded her in the past. He was proper, you see, more proper than any other maleevolvedfromamonkey I'd ever met. Respectful. Benevolent. Kind. Themostdangerouspassifistidevermet. He could gently wrestle me to the ground if I had a fit, if I tried to go feral and eat somebody in public. He was willing to take that risk; he did not seek a teacher, he sought union. In pursuit of his ultimate spiritual prerogative, he has never known any regard for his own safety -- this is true throughout many lifetimes. It is how I knew I'd know him, how utterly devoted he would be, had been, had always been, for a multitude of lifetimes. A priest he was, devoted to the point of zealotry, robed, pure, yummy……..

Feeling much better, now. I love you -- I won't eat you -- even when I'm dancing. Though when I'm……. (totaldisregardforhisownsafety canicomehomewithyou? yes. andnottosleeponyourcouch. yes. yes. yes. yes…… youarethemostamazingspecimenofmenihavecomeacross literally canihaveyourlifeyouregoyoursoulfromnowon? iwillallowyoutobecomeonewithmeforthedurationofalltime. yes, yes, yes…….)

talk about consent.

I was pretty upfront about what I wanted. I had long ago lost patience with working toward union, having once upon a time assumed it, only to find that these monkeys didn't even know what it was, and if they did or heard about it, they were afraid of it. Afraid of it?? What the samehell are you doing here then? Don't tell me you're just here for the dopamine and the candy -- what a waste. This is a place to transcend, a divingboardintoblissandnirvana. If you think dopamine is pleasant, you should try oxytocin. Copius amounts of interconnection, compassion, bliss, union. You don't get that from a jar, sister.

Propriety has no place in the home, says he. You can be as proper as you want outdoors, but in here, there's no need for it. I like you improper. The blushing is fun sometimes, but only when it leads to other parts of you blushing as well. Quickly.

Anyone who used to know me would find it nighunbelievable that I've become so paralyzingly proper, having apparently soaked up the 'holiness and reverence do not mix with sexual arousal' conditionedworldview so popular among the Indianese. I didn't get a lot of germancatholisism on me, but I didn't see any pictures of Jesus fucking on the churchceiling either. I want to see a Xtiantangka gildedpainting perfectunion -- that's what I'd like to see.

Nobody told me it existed, but I knew. All through my life I knew, and I would not be deterred, not by any of those stories of nonexistence fairytale nobodygetsalonglikethat nobodycanshedtheiregolikethat nobodywantstogivceuptheirownexistencetojoinwithyou and etc. Though perhaps, too, the threethousandpairsofarmsandonehundredandeightheads were a bit disconcerting, hid them though I tried. I have claws; sometimes I bite. I don't mean to -- I'm just being playful -- but it takes a specialkind-o-liontamer to voluntarily lay down in that cage, to tame the lion enough to take her out of it and let her run loose. I mean, she was going to get out of the cage eventually anyway -- was chewing her way through the bars, inevitably to be loosed withinandduring this lifetime. Who's gonna go in there and calm her down first? It would be a really good idea, since she's about to get out anyway, in which case we're all fucked. So who's going in? Not me. Not me, man. No way. Guaranteed to be devoured? Sacrifice myself? Forget it. Not doing it. I've gotten used to this self -- spent a bunch of lifetimes creating it -- and I'm not going to let go of it now. Nuh uh.

Total disregard for his own safety, as it had always been, thus I knew I'd know him by his devotion. Right away, more or less, once he heard the deal he agreed -- had been awaiting that moment for multiplelifetimes. No hesitation. Perfectunion. Giveupyourselftobecomesomethinglargermorecomplex. Whoyouhavebeenwillceasetoexistandyouwillbecomeallthroughextinguishingtheself. Yeshesaidyes…..

He is my guru and I am his God; I am all of Space to him, infinitespace intowhich he dissolves, sometimes repeatedly. I am the bliss that fills in all the cracks in the universe, the glue holding reality together, the love that fills the heavens. He sees me in all things, as all things, as all space, as all. (asofcourseiseehim throughthegurutowardnirvana guruworshipreluctuantteacherthoughheis)

Reverence is prerequisite for connection; connection with ourunderstandingofgodiswhatweallcrave iswhatisavailablehereoutsideofallthe candy and dopamine. It tastes, so, go/od….. oxytocin like the sweetestcandy so healthy and lifeaffirming: ecstasy; the original. Free. Legal. Bliss, DYI. When you touch me there, I want to touch you back…… that selfperpetuating sweetlydelicious lasciviouscircle…..

Casting aside one's ego in order to dissolve in bliss…. that is nirvana, union with beloved, all encompassing, all. I don't care what you call it or how you w/are, it'll change the color of your socks, of your perception of what color your socks could be or were. There are many ways to do this; he is mine.

They say words cannot describe, but I try to describe anyway. I mean, I'm already here, I'm already typing, and it's f'ingSunday. This is my mindstream of consciousness, and I like to watch that flow. You can watch if you want to, but it won't really change the way I move. Though I admit, I am much more 'showy' when I'm alone. (Another word I learned during my years living in the Indianese Territory: a vague derogatory term used to describe anyone as being unnecessary skillful and artistic at a task. A fairly term for them culturally, derived in recent generations as they cultivated out-culture feelings for any perceived as significantly different or at the edges of the bell curve in a variety of categories, going back again, perhaps, to the days as serfs and peasants. You could say they had a lot of ancestral baggage in their linguistic DNA.)

SUNDAY! SUNDAY! SUNDAY! I got my bigtires on, and I'm tired of paying attention to where I'm zooming. Fuck the cohesive story -- I want action! Zoom, zoom, zoom, I say, sometimes repeatedly. Sometimes I feel mildly confined by my congruence, my interrefferentialism, my artistic cohesion that begs the aesthetic of structure, however complex, but structure nonetheless. And then I say, but is there no room for twitchy edges in the fractal spinning of language? No iteration where the pattern starts to break up, where the equation is still present, yet mutated into other ways of carrying information?

Energy isn't lost -- just lost to this system. If you can perceive other systems, you will not likewise be lost with this system, dig? Entropy -- its not the law, just an unfortunate habit.

I so want to tell you, tell him, tell myself, tell somebody outside of my own neuralnetwork what happens in my life, but propriety, habit and this insane fear of being labeled insane (by whom? the sane people? I can use language in fifteen different socially acceptable ways and can demonstrate my prowess with all forms of thought that they consider rational and 'sane,' yet I am not confined by that narrow band of convention either. I am not 'insane,' but rather no where on their little charts. unsane? transsane? postsane, perhaps? I am nonnormative and functioning, at a higher level than most of their little scales go, so who's the monkey here?) I don't know where this fear came from -- probably some old seventies made for TV movies that I watched too late at night, wanting my shirts to be white, believing that dandruff would lead to the taking away of all the unconditional love of my society. wear this stuff! or we won't love you! we'll drive you right out of town to die alone in the wilderness if you don't rub this paste under your arms! it is the custom of our tribe -- if you sit round our blue flickering fire every night listening to our insidious jiggles, then you will rub the paste in your armpits and smell like the rest of us, NOW!

Um, yeah, *I*'m crazy. Riiiiiiiiiight….. you've been staring at a blinking programming flickering box full of messages designed to keep you in your little monkeybox buying the many products designed to temporarily substitute for acceptance and community. Can you define 'sane' for me? GET OUT OF THE BOX, Monkey. Fear is not in freedom, but in confinement. There is an outofthebox -- I'm in it, or out of it, or however you'd like to define y/our prepositions at this edge of reality. You can even still rub the paste under your arms if you want to -- you just don't have to -- we'll love you either way.

You know, maybe there was a time when the paradigm of "stay in the box or we will hit you with sticks" was appropriate -- I can't go back forty thousand years (atleastnotyetandstillbeabletotellyouaboutitlater) and check out how more whollistic takesintoaccountthetotalitlyofreality modes of thinkingbehavingtreating others would have worked in those situations, but having tried to "gently coax" bears out of my porchroof, I am beginning to accept that there are reasons many of the animals remain of the consciousness level popular in that realm. People used to be animals. Now they sit in chairs and watch blinking programming messages that are beamed straight into their brains by Mad Scientists and Ad Executives, mixing Implied Threats and Great Rewards in their little testtubes. How do I drive the bears compassionately from their home, which is good for neither them nor I? (they will fight in there, he told me, unnaturally cooped up for longer than they have evolved to be comfortable. so it's not wise to experiment with evolving social structures of other mammals? it is wisest, he asserts, to allow animals to best work out their own family politics, still…… I will not have fulfilled my duties here if I don't at least try to teach cooperation to other lifeforms. I mean, then all have to evolve through levels of conscious ness before samsara ends -- that's a lot to do -- I'm multitasking.) How do I encourage the monkeys to dance? To connect with each other compassionately?

All people have a need for safety. This need will no longer be met by the strategy of competition. This is a big adjustment after all these millions of years of evolution, but it is one we must make if we are to avoid great suffering. Sentience means that you not only know you are suffering (step one, and where many evolving creatures get stuck for a while freaking out) but also that you are the empowered to make the suffering stop (a reality that gets diverted into ideas of blame, shame, guilt and anger in the stayinthebox paradigm) and are, in fact, the only one(s) who can. Who makes suffering stop in this world? I/we do. Who is going to give their existence to see that happen? I/we am. Where do I/we start? Right here. In every moment. Now.

See, if we all just stopped where we were and made that commitment, to ourselves, our world, our infinity, we'd have us quite a paradisicalparty. Think about it -- what do you think the world would look like if we dedicated ourselves to ending suffering? To finding nondichotomous winwinsolutions to end all suffering? Seem overwhelming? It's not. It's really the simplest, most natural thing in the whole world, once one lets go of a belief in the usefulness of competition, domination, dichotomy-based thinking, powerlessness. To live in such a way as to love and care about every being is to be surrounded and supported by love in all moments, regardless of external factors. General rule to remember: bliss = not suffering.

(Labels and dichotomies stand across an open lake, waving goodbye from a shore of illusions. Thank you for my categories, my shallnots and wouldbes -- they were useful for a while, helped me on my journey, but now is the time in the story when all heroes toss off their skirts and dive in naked, free from dichotomies and labels.)

I am an energy that will go some direction quickly -- it is What I Do, what I am doing here. Sometimes people got that idea, and generally it scared them. I was living life from a different realm of reality, and I did not recognize their/your/our selves as me. But now I recognize all beings as me, and I have gotten over my conditioning to want to eat myself.

To perceive reality this way is not to give up anything except suffering and the stories of why that suffering is a good idea. It is the stories we tell ourselves that make our stories believable, that keep us suffering, believing that we have to, that it is safest, that we want to, that we are bad if we do but stupid if we don't. We cling to the suffering in this way, grabbing it to us, stabbing our hearts, pulling it into ourselves, rejecting union with all that is in any moment, all of space, all particles; light. We tell ourselves how it is somebody else causing suffering, and occasionally someone does contribute greatly to it, but after those few moments minutes hours days we continue telling the story of what they did to us and give them the blame for the pain we cause ourselves with that. (Healing is a different matter and a pattern unto itself - this is not that.) We bludgeon ourselves and then beg the other person to stop, hate them for not stopping the pain we are inflicting upon ourselves. Suffering, inflicting, perpetuating, alone.

There are many kinds of suffering that can be stopped in the moment they are occurring. How do I contribute to my own suffering? In what ways might I change strategies to more fully meet my needs for fulfillment, liberation and union? (Labels and dichotomies stand across an open lake, waving goodbye from a shore of illusions as the heroes toss off their skirts and dive in naked, free from dichotomies and labels.) Am I willing to acknowledge the compliance of my ego in the suffering of this interaction? To gently pry its conditioned hands from my will to action? To fully actualize, authenticize, be?

I let go of my conditioning. I seek ways to be both proprietous AND…. that other word that I can't say, for to do so would violate my sense of propriety and modesty, both of which I have mastered sufficiently for them to be of any use. (Certainly avoiding extrememes, finding the middleway, swinging across to the other extreme, which is the way I find the middle. Not conventional or safe, perhaps, but I was already an extremist when I started. It is the path I have taken, not necessarily the one I recommend.) He thought it would help me overcome some of this conditioning, to name that which I fear, that which I have told myself stories of how, to be here, sitting on the lap of the HolyMan, have no place, that I need, rather, to clutch my propriety and modesty to me, a hat so tight it stays on my head, despite all the fucking.

I search: lewd thesaurus

aphrodisiac, base, bawdy, carnal, coarse, concupiscent, cyprian, debauched, depraved, dissolute, ithyphallic, lascivious, lecherous, libidinous, licentious, lubricious, lubricous, lustful, obliquitous, obscene, pornographic, profligate, prurient, racy, randy, ribald, rude, ruttish, salacious, sensual, suggestive, unchaste, vulgar, wanton.

They say the antonyms are chaste, modest, pure but I say I can be all the words (I only wrote the ones I liked); it is my superpower. (scriptophelia hypergraphia -- I've got all the letters on my chest!).

Perhaps once upon a time the monkeys benefited from sexual repression, perhaps it was the most efficacious or known way toward safety -- I do not judge the monkeys who chose this, who made due with what they had to find safety. Yet I say now is the time for all monkeys to come clean (expandmonkeyexpand!) to see who they are under the repressions, to express their inner more outer than we have been conditioned to believe is possible. We are all actors in monkey suits, pretending we're not gods, bending our backs, acting like animals, snarling, biting, snapping at ourselves and each other. It's time to stand up on our hindpaws, start shaking hands with each other, stop pissing in the corners. We're all in the same pen, the same cage, and one of us was a lion… (luckily, that crazyguy over there tamed her a while back, so if you're reading this, he was successful)…. and now there's this rainofblissfallingineverymoment -- wasn't expecting that, but it's a nice touch. Rain down on the sands of samsara, giving life a reason to dance again, perpetuating infinitelove.

I want out of my monkey because I love my monkey -- I want to help it end suffering. It is not an easy path, but the rewards are infinite. Soundsnumber. Of the. It is twitchy here in the land without commas in a land without punctuation where words di sol……….lo……..ve…………..in space. I am the words and the space, as he dissolves into me. (huh, never watched the movie that way before -- that was kind of nice.)

In Indianese they called it 'narcissism,' at least in High Indianese. It went hand in hand with uppitiness and showiness, showing a definite disregard for mortality and knowing one's place. There are moments when my monkey fully integrates with the divine, when it fully embodies, when my blood is the energy of the universe, and I do not put my weight upon the ground. In those moments, my ego (conditioned in Classic Indianese) arises and gives me messages of uppityness, showiness and/or narcissism. I see the universe as my self -- I have been given taboos against this.

What is a nonegoic narcissist? (imadepeacewithmeglomaniacmanydiscosago) I am you and I love me, and you of course, as they are not different. All beings all things all all all dissolve I dissolve into him dissolve dissolution disillusion. Clarity. Without propriety.

If I were lascivious, would you still love me? Would you read my words? Or crawl away from them, blushing, unbelieving, unbelieved. I want to be over my taboos against bliss -- do you want to watch, or should I take these words back in the bushes? I guess you're free to turn away anytime, eh? Nobody (leastnotme)'s strapping a computer to your face and forcing your eyes to travel across the paper -- you could get out anytime you're done swimming in my mindstream.

Waving go/odbye. Ad infinitum.