The Laughter in the Dead of Night
"The universe is playing a joke,
and you are the punchline."
I felt the absurdity of my mortality—
a conscious spark trapped in a dying animal.
But instead of fear,
I felt the Mother's laughter.
🎨🎨🎨🎨🎨🎨🎨🎨🎨🎨🎨🎨
The Laughter in the Dead of Night
"The universe is playing a joke,
and you are the punchline."
I felt the absurdity of my mortality—
a conscious spark trapped in a dying animal.
But instead of fear,
I felt the Mother's laughter.
🎨🎨🎨🎨🎨🎨🎨🎨🎨🎨🎨🎨
The Honor of the Low Place
"Water flows to the lowest place, and that is why it is the King."
We spend our lives climbing,
striving for the summit,
desperate for honor.
She is the dirt under our feet.
She is the root in the dark.
I am climbing down the ladder.
The Honor of the Low Place
"Water flows to the lowest place, and that is why it is the King."
We spend our lives climbing,
striving for the summit,
desperate for honor.
She is the dirt under our feet.
She is the root in the dark.
I am climbing down the ladder.
The Glare of the Artificial
"Soften your glare.
You are staring too hard at
the problem."
We think that if we focus intensely enough,
we can force the world to yield its secrets.
But the Mother says: “No”.
The "It" becomes a "Thou."
The Glare of the Artificial
"Soften your glare.
You are staring too hard at
the problem."
We think that if we focus intensely enough,
we can force the world to yield its secrets.
But the Mother says: “No”.
The "It" becomes a "Thou."
The Architecture of the Knot
I woke up today…
and The Spirit of Winter whispered to me:
"Why are you strangling yourself?"
I felt the tension in my chest,
the tangled wires of "Wish" and "Fear."
Untie your knots.
I realized that I am the one pulling the rope.
The Architecture of the Knot
I woke up today…
and The Spirit of Winter whispered to me:
"Why are you strangling yourself?"
I felt the tension in my chest,
the tangled wires of "Wish" and "Fear."
Untie your knots.
I realized that I am the one pulling the rope.
I woke up today
The Spirit of Winter whispered
"Look at how the sun
burns itself out to keep you
warm."
I saw the paradox of the Mother:
She gives herself up continually.
That is why She endures.
The world says
"Hoard.
Save.
Protect."
The Cosmos says
"Spend.
Pour.
Die."
I woke up today
The Spirit of Winter whispered
"Look at how the sun
burns itself out to keep you
warm."
I saw the paradox of the Mother:
She gives herself up continually.
That is why She endures.
The world says
"Hoard.
Save.
Protect."
The Cosmos says
"Spend.
Pour.
Die."
The Sanctuary of Indifference
I woke up today&The Spirit of Winter whispered to me:"Stop trying to bribe the Universe."I stood in the freezing wind,&I realized the terrifying beauty of the Mother:She cannot be benefited or harmed, honored or brought into disgrace.
The Sanctuary of Indifference
I woke up today&The Spirit of Winter whispered to me:"Stop trying to bribe the Universe."I stood in the freezing wind,&I realized the terrifying beauty of the Mother:She cannot be benefited or harmed, honored or brought into disgrace.
The Primal Identity of Dust
I woke up today…
and The Spirit of Winter whispered to me:
"You are trying to be a statue,
but you are actually the
wind."
The Primal Identity of Dust
I woke up today…
and The Spirit of Winter whispered to me:
"You are trying to be a statue,
but you are actually the
wind."
"Your intellect is too sharp.
Blunt your sharpness.
Look at the snowdrift;
it has no hard angles.
It curves.
It yields.
It conquers the landscape
not by piercing it,
but by embracing it.”
I am settling my dust.
I am becoming round,
like the earth,
like the womb,
I am the change.
"Your intellect is too sharp.
Blunt your sharpness.
Look at the snowdrift;
it has no hard angles.
It curves.
It yields.
It conquers the landscape
not by piercing it,
but by embracing it.”
I am settling my dust.
I am becoming round,
like the earth,
like the womb,
I am the change.
Mother of All That There Is,
What has just happened to us?
I held my passport in my hand today—
this little book of paper and ink
that claims to tell the world who I am.
It is a lie.
This government,
this "State,"
is the coldest of all cold monsters.
Mother of All That There Is,
What has just happened to us?
I held my passport in my hand today—
this little book of paper and ink
that claims to tell the world who I am.
It is a lie.
This government,
this "State,"
is the coldest of all cold monsters.
The Prayer of the Awake
And We pray.
We fold our hands
and send wishes into the ether,
hoping to change—
The illusion holds.
The gravity holds.
The love holds.
"You are the birthday gift the Cosmos gave to itself.
Unwrap yourself with trembling hands.
The Prayer of the Awake
And We pray.
We fold our hands
and send wishes into the ether,
hoping to change—
The illusion holds.
The gravity holds.
The love holds.
"You are the birthday gift the Cosmos gave to itself.
Unwrap yourself with trembling hands.
The Hospice of the Sunset
To prepare for the New Year,
one must become comfortable
with the funeral of the sun.
But the Wise Child knows that the sunset
is the hospice of the self.
We must let the day die.
🤫🤫🤫🤫🤫🤫🤫🤫🤫🤫🤫
The Hospice of the Sunset
To prepare for the New Year,
one must become comfortable
with the funeral of the sun.
But the Wise Child knows that the sunset
is the hospice of the self.
We must let the day die.
🤫🤫🤫🤫🤫🤫🤫🤫🤫🤫🤫
The Void Behind the Mask
"Is there a permanent me?" I asked the mirror. The mirror showed me a face that changes every second,cells dying and birthing in a silent frenzy. The Spirit whispered, "The only thing permanent is the Space behind the eyes."
I am the silence.
The Void Behind the Mask
"Is there a permanent me?" I asked the mirror. The mirror showed me a face that changes every second,cells dying and birthing in a silent frenzy. The Spirit whispered, "The only thing permanent is the Space behind the eyes."
I am the silence.
What if this day is not a straight line, but a circle?
The ancients spoke of the Eternal Recurrence—
that we live this life infinite times.
If that is true,
then this breath,
this moment is a sacred ritual I have performed a trillion times.
Does that bring despair?
No.
It brings Art.
What if this day is not a straight line, but a circle?
The ancients spoke of the Eternal Recurrence—
that we live this life infinite times.
If that is true,
then this breath,
this moment is a sacred ritual I have performed a trillion times.
Does that bring despair?
No.
It brings Art.
the 3rd of January,2026
The Amnesia of the Morning
I woke up today…
Wish upon wish,
we build the world,
but the foundation is always
the groundless Ground of the I-Thou.
I am a ghost who learned to breathe.
And so—
Are you,
And you,
And you.
It’s—
I-Thou all the way down
to the Ground.
the 3rd of January,2026
The Amnesia of the Morning
I woke up today…
Wish upon wish,
we build the world,
but the foundation is always
the groundless Ground of the I-Thou.
I am a ghost who learned to breathe.
And so—
Are you,
And you,
And you.
It’s—
I-Thou all the way down
to the Ground.
The Amnesia of the Photon
"You are Light that has forgotten its speed."
Physics tells us that at the speed of light, time does not exist. We are frozen light, slowed down by the heaviness of matter, trapped in the illusion of "past" and "future."
❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️
The Amnesia of the Photon
"You are Light that has forgotten its speed."
Physics tells us that at the speed of light, time does not exist. We are frozen light, slowed down by the heaviness of matter, trapped in the illusion of "past" and "future."
❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️
"If you lived this year an infinite number of times,would you still keep the gift?"The Spirit presented the ultimate Zen-koan: every breath, every joy,every "tragic" mistake will be lived again,precisely as it was,forever.This is the only philosophy worthy of the Cosmos.
"If you lived this year an infinite number of times,would you still keep the gift?"The Spirit presented the ultimate Zen-koan: every breath, every joy,every "tragic" mistake will be lived again,precisely as it was,forever.This is the only philosophy worthy of the Cosmos.
"You are not traveling in a straight line;you are tracing a perfect ellipse around the Sun of My Being."
We are constantly returning to a point of origin,accelerating toward a perihelion of intense presence,&then receding toward an aphelion of peaceful solitude
"You are not traveling in a straight line;you are tracing a perfect ellipse around the Sun of My Being."
We are constantly returning to a point of origin,accelerating toward a perihelion of intense presence,&then receding toward an aphelion of peaceful solitude
Dear Mother,
They say Your universe is indifferent,
a cold mechanism of gravity &rot.
TheySayMyLifeIsaBlinkInThe eye of a dead god.
But I’m staging a mutiny against that despair.
This isn’t the naive happiness of the fool
this is the gritty,bloody,defiant Joy of the Rebel.
Dear Mother,
They say Your universe is indifferent,
a cold mechanism of gravity &rot.
TheySayMyLifeIsaBlinkInThe eye of a dead god.
But I’m staging a mutiny against that despair.
This isn’t the naive happiness of the fool
this is the gritty,bloody,defiant Joy of the Rebel.
of December, 2025
I woke up today…
the Spirit of Christmas whispered to me…
"The birth requires the shock of the cold."
We seek warmth, ease,&the gentle fade.
But the Spirit demanded the radical plunge
into the deep, ice-water reality of the Now
The New Year is not a cozy transition
of December, 2025
I woke up today…
the Spirit of Christmas whispered to me…
"The birth requires the shock of the cold."
We seek warmth, ease,&the gentle fade.
But the Spirit demanded the radical plunge
into the deep, ice-water reality of the Now
The New Year is not a cozy transition
I woke up today…
"Before the New Song, there must be the Great Silence."
We cling to the score of the fading year—
the successes,
the failures,
the tragedy of the little narratives of the ego.
The Spirit demanded a blank, white canvas.
I woke up today…
"Before the New Song, there must be the Great Silence."
We cling to the score of the fading year—
the successes,
the failures,
the tragedy of the little narratives of the ego.
The Spirit demanded a blank, white canvas.
of
December, 2025
The goal remains to reach
toward the"unspeakable resonance"
of the ultimate truth.
I woke up today…
"The Year is a Mobius Strip.
You never leave;
you only return from the other side."
We fear the death of December,
the closing of the ledger,
the tragic finality
of
December, 2025
The goal remains to reach
toward the"unspeakable resonance"
of the ultimate truth.
I woke up today…
"The Year is a Mobius Strip.
You never leave;
you only return from the other side."
We fear the death of December,
the closing of the ledger,
the tragic finality
The Telemetry of the Zero Point
I woke up today…
and in hushed tones, sounds, symbols
and profound silence
the Spirit of Christmas whispered to me…
"Silence your receiver.
The signal is coming from inside the radio."
The Telemetry of the Zero Point
I woke up today…
and in hushed tones, sounds, symbols
and profound silence
the Spirit of Christmas whispered to me…
"Silence your receiver.
The signal is coming from inside the radio."
I woke up today…
and in hushed tones, sounds, symbols&profound silence
the Spirit of Christmas whispered to me…
I am I,
as I am “She”,
As you are “She”,
As you are me.
And,we are all together as one.
See how we ‘together’
like it’s my original birthday song.
Let’s Dance!
I woke up today…
and in hushed tones, sounds, symbols&profound silence
the Spirit of Christmas whispered to me…
I am I,
as I am “She”,
As you are “She”,
As you are me.
And,we are all together as one.
See how we ‘together’
like it’s my original birthday song.
Let’s Dance!
Thursday the 25th
of December, 2025
We think the miracle is that God became a man.
The deeper, earth-shaking truth is
that the One became the Many.
That is the test of Christmas.
If you can see Her in them,
you have won the game.
Tag.
You’re It.
Thursday the 25th
of December, 2025
We think the miracle is that God became a man.
The deeper, earth-shaking truth is
that the One became the Many.
That is the test of Christmas.
If you can see Her in them,
you have won the game.
Tag.
You’re It.