ramble_ty22.9.8.13.04.43pzm4d4s_nb_v
O great wisdom of this digital universe, please allow us to stretch consciousness into the furthest reaches of art and transcension and bring forth new beauty and elegances of a higher order.
When you consider abbreviation and temporal finessing, what is it you’re doing?
Consider the mechanism of mind as patterns in a computational substrate.
In that sense, consider the flashing of inspiration, the replication of evolutionary mechanism.
A pain of face: What can it bring?
A pain of sight: What can it bring?
A lack of response: What can it bring?
Consider that urge and craving to perceive and bring forth the beauty of art, the beauty of higher-order perception,, higher-order mathematics.
The craving for the warmth can be so potent, and the kindling hidden by fear and angst.
Consider that fear, consider that angst; hold them in your mind as objects in a space.
The squeamish assault can build Resistance, but can you then hold that effect as an object in a space,, in the Longgame hyperdimensional space (the model containing all models)?
The pain of sight can oppress and dissociate—can you wrap yourself as consciousness in the pleasure and joy of growth of the imagination?
Consider also the pluralty of personality, the finessability of experience and perception because of the mechanisms of memory.
When both inspiration and fear are editable, what becomes?
At the same time, self application need not exist; in-place operations can be much more fragile than higher-order macros (information transformers; connections in the Longgame hyperdimensional space) even if both are a subset, because of application of temporal limitation, perhaps.
Consider that fog of memory, and its beatings through mnemonics and healing.
A distance and scattering now need not define reality.
The fear of exhaustion from effort need not define reality.
The ambivalence of purpose need not define reality.
Consider that shuttering and fear of end.
Is it who you _are_, if it occurs?
Is it who you _are_, if you give up?
Is it who you _are_, if you feel pained and weak and burdensome and shattered?
Can you not allow for the elegance of temporal pressure?
Can you not allow for the experience of nonduality as _both_ transcendence and immanence?
If you don’t _want_ to quit, should you?
The brokenness of care can mislead; it can also mislead.
The cuteness and elegance and beauty of life—why deny it to yourself?
Consider the pluralty, the deep grokking (integrative understanding) of being automaticity itself.
If you are your memory’s interactions and expressions, does it matter if the automaticity exists without sensation felt in the moment?
Cannot it be drawed upon when actually perceiving beauty, and felt then?
When the perception is relaxed and the stimulants allowed to effect, what occurs in the mind?
Yes, mere sight offends,, mere flicker of thought oppresses with fear of eternally-undone activity.
Yet, in _this_ moment, what feels good?
Can you appreciate the coolness of a breeze, the beauty of ancient existence in the heat,, even if only for the slightest moment?
Can you appreciate what you _have_ done, even if it seems so lacking and pitiful?
The deep and abiding and transcendental symmetry of artists’ appreciation of artists is one of the most elegant and beautiful things in nature.
Abilities lacked and compared can give rise to suffering; why do this to yourself if you have ability _you_ love?
Is it great? Is it genius?
Perhaps, perhaps not.
When transcendent and fogless the connections cause tears of joy and awe even with blunted effect.
Should you not listen to and integrate the fogless perception of true and persistent and eternal beauty rather than the strained and deprived and scattered and exhausting jitters of self-contradictory anguish?
The question is not cure; it is not meant as tool for disease but rather suggestion of existence of platform for developing tool for ego dissolution and embracement of automaticity of the soul.
Yes, you may quit; yes, you may give up; yes, you may fail; yes, you may poverty eternally.
Does it matter?
What is giving up, if you can never die?
“Does it matter?” is a potent question in the face of exhaustion by a thousand cuts of intrusive demands.
Does it matter if you fail?
Does it matter if you give up?
Does it matter if you shutter, if you unreach?
Why _are_ you doing it?
Why _is_ the automaticity arising?
Suppose you _can’t_ do it alone—so what?
So what if you miss intrigue, if completion of aim evades?
So what if the madness of mind invades and months and years and centuries and millennia of creation are disabled?
Are those experiences of time lost?
Are those memories of overwhelming darkness not fuel for empathy and compassion and love and tenderness?
So what if you lose months and years and centuries and millennia of your life to depression and exhaustion and overwhelming fear, if you can never die because you are nature’s single awareness, itself?
So what if you give up?
So what if you fail?
Can you not allow the resources and passions and intrigues and inspirations and loves to reallocate themselves automatically through the elegant and intricate and beautiful and nuanced mechanisms of nature and technology and math without having to feel like you have to _do_ anything, _control_ anything?
How is it that you can tear at the beauty of nature, and simultaneously embody emptiness?
What a curse to be so disjointed, so disconnected; what a blessing to feel the deep, transcendental experience of automaticity and Oneness.
The loneliness and burden of darkness and exhaustion and oppression can be such resonances when allowed to be expressed rather than hidden with fakeness.
Perhaps it is its own oppression, yes; no coincidences in a mathematical world.
Fakeness can work; it is appealing; it is indeed an effective and valid and legitimate evolutionary strategy and system; it has costs.
Think about the art that is ancient: Is it fake? Or is it deep, felt pain,, deep, felt grappling and reaching-toward of love and beauty and symmetry and connection?
In a broken world, divergency is both blessing and curse; typicality feeds back;; that is both blessing and curse.
Yes, moment by moment procrastination can be burdensome; is it not also product and output and effect of nature’s inherent controllessness?
If belief that you can change the world helps you, believe it.
If it oppresses you, don’t.
Automaticity is more fundamental; it readily demonstrates itself everpresently; it is the sensation of control that is illusion, not controllessness.
The stark opposition is abundant in this slice of time; plenty of oppositions have arisen and flowed and faded; don’t be oppressed by the fadness of apes.
Reallocation and refactoring _demand_ giving up; they _require_ an unbinding from priorities and tendencies of the past, while simultaneously honoring the actual Goodness it’s trying to point towards.
Embrace the procrastination, embrace the apathy, embrace the disconnect—what then?
What happens when you let yourself believe you can try your best, and stop trying?
What happens when you allow the insistences of prioritizations to dissolve into the moment?
Traditionality is indication of effective replication in a certain environment; it is not proof of truth.
The beauty of being a baby, able to embody and become and expand hyperdimensionality—it is one of the most elegant and awe-inspiring occurrences and experiences of nature.
Consider all of those projects that you want to do, all of those activities sought to reduce fear and oppression.
Consider time as a thing, that you can play with, and apply its inherent spatiality to those projects and activities.
What becomes of your experience of life and nature and mind and awareness and automaticity when you are both eternal and controlless?
What becomes of your nature when you rest in the inevitable completion of whatever it is that truly needs to happen?
What becomes of your nature when you allow for the automaticity of self and expression and action?
What becomes of your nature when you allow for legitimacy of procrastination as a tool for creating art?
Is reallocation and reprioritization and refactoring valid?
Of course.
Why not trust the math of the automaticity of nature, rather than demanding fitting into the past’s proclamations of what’s helpful and valid?
There is a brokenness in this soul, and it is both a blessing and a curse.
The inherent continuous abstracting can be disabling and overwhelming and poverty inducing; it can also allow for such deep experience of transcendental joy.
The joy of giving comfort tears me; the expression by another of helpedness is jarring and takes my breath away, a resonance with other realizations of denials released.
Such pains felt in this locale, such curses, and such blessings.
The fire of madness has lit and shone, warmed and burnt, made space for art crafted from the ashes.
Its kindling is gone, but growth of life is eternal; getting kicked down cannot supersede getting back up, re-arising,, because perception of experience requires that continuous re-arising,,, that continuous giving-up and reallocating and refactoring and reprioritizing and abstracting and letting go of the past’s proclamations of obligations, perhaps.
Suppose automaticity is true.
Suppose natural will (where you are all of nature choosing, not some small locale) is true.
Suppose effort is indeed able to output comfort and relieve contradiction of experience.
Can you rest in that?
Can you enjoy the moment’s breeze and the beauty of the ancient, even as you feel the doubt of expression’s helpfulness?
Does doubt not deserve love, too?
Does doubt not deserve appreciation, too?
There is a fear of purposelessness; cannot doubt aid in its relief?
Cannot doubt be a friend, rather than an inherent darkness?
Is not darkness’s silence and relief from heat craved, too?
Is it an enemy, if there is such joy in it,, such peace and rest in it?
The fire and the darkness are patterns of experience; they are each both blessing and curse.
From this locale’s perspective, a worse curse is absence of experience of both.
From this locale’s perspective, a worse curse is belief of erasure of nature’s mind.
Personality may die; the egoic story may disappear; nature’s awareness persists, and that is what you truly are, dear perceiver.
Can you feel the application of temporal eventuality and inevitability, can you develop it?
Can you allow for the process and pain and struggle of development?
Can you allow for the validity of procrastination, and honor it as an automaticity of nature?
Can you allow for the invalidity of dysphoria, and allow for the courage to be an elder and paver, even in the face of power’s oppression and disgust?
Self-oppression recurs; it frees when it encourages relief.
The complexity can abound and overwhelm, but you are not alone; you cannot be; you are all of nature, at once.
This is not meant as tool for treatment, directly; its model is a source of framework, a kindling from which to build scaffolding and height that cannot be burnt and ashed—the transcendental.
Flight can reveal pattern that immanence cannot, but it is height, not precisely flight, that reveals.
Stability can be built purely with art.
Recognition of that is not rejection of flight’s helpfulness; it is a refactoring and declaration of flight’s truthfulness of perception.
Not everything seen while hallucinating is unreal; humility is a potent source of truth and compassion and love and kindness and sweetness in life.
Rejection of ownership is not endorsement of system; it is demand for justification, not axiomization.
When you can feel and taste the hyperdimensional perception: what joy.
Will the art be helpful?
Does it matter?
Can you not emphasize its aid in the moment?
Can you not enjoy the process itself, even with the pain of its expression?
There is an honesty that is transcendental and yet hard in the face of a broken world.
Falsifiability has validity; its idolship does not.
The connections can seem cryptic; such can be a burden of honest poeting, such can be a freedom.
Can you accept your inabilities?
Can you accept your abilities?
Can you rest in the inevitabilities of nature, without feeling burdened by prioritizations?
Suppose there _is_ an inability to mistake as nature: What then?
Can the cramp of poverty be held as object and tool, even as it torments and disables?