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A Tim has come

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I heard this forum was in need of A Tim. 


A Tim has come. 


I'll begin in the journals. It was suggested and, apparently, I am highly susceptible to suggestion. 


I am expressing in the journal. 

I am expression, apparently. Expression, it seems, am I. What am I? Expression. 


I guess so. Feels kinda "blah" to me. Ooo! That's an expression. Well... it's felt and quickly labeled. It's an emotional sense, I suppose, followed by a label (blah). 


Look at me supposing! That's also an expression of an emotional sense! Am I a suppose now? I rather thought of myself as A Tim; or was it expression? It all happens so fast...


Now, I'm a confused. Seems like no time at all passed since I was A Tim. 


Maybe it's just all just so much white paper.

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Goodbye, Saylor, Goodbye. Were you ever real?



Today is remarkably like yesterday. 

The scenery has changed. All the people are different. The sky isn't the same color. Upon inspection, the ground and buildings around me aren't the same colors and textures...


...and yet, there's something here that just seems precisely like yesterday. Perhaps it's the reverse; there's something yesterday that is today. I wonder if it will be tomorrow, too. Is today yesterday? Perhaps today is tomorrow is yesterday today. 


Grab a snowglobe. Look at it. My guess is one will note the little house, a few trees, perhaps the snowy landscape... maybe there's a little figurine in there. Looks peaceful being that figurine. 


Shake the snot out of it. 


Not so peaceful, eh? Looks pretty bleak for ole figurine. 


Now notice the globe itself. Unblemished, smooth surface. Contains so much chaos! Does it care what happens to the figurine? Does the whirling snow and liquid within bother it in the slightest? Blemish the smooth surface? 


Now drop the globe. That blemished it a bit, sadly. Bashed the whole little world to smithereens. The figurine would definitely be unhappy about that. The unblemished sphere is in pretty rough shape in all sorts of pieces and parts. Goo running everywhere.


What do you care? I only asked you to look. 


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An experiment in vision. 


I was in a Catholic church. Love those. Such grandeur. 


I was sitting and standing and sitting and kneeling and standing and sitting. All the while, I was also looking around. 


The magnitude of the space is intense. The incredible vaulted ceilings and massive stained-glass windows. The intricate details. Looking at it and relaxing, the view became somewhat bizarre. It was incredibly huge and apparently far away  - yet it also appeared to be no distance at all. Like one of those old posters that was swirly-whirly and if you crossed your eyes you'd suddenly see weird dimensions in the image (often shaped like something). It was like that. The round columns appeared flat. The colors of the stained-glass appeared very close, but also distant. I couldn't really tell where they were. 


I was in the forest earlier. Love those. Such grandeur.


Where I live, there's a decent amount of topography. The weather is what we call mud season here. 


I was on a hike walking and stopping and sitting and walking and stopping and sitting. All the while, I was also looking around. 


The magnitude of space is intense. The incredible vaulted sky and the rising and rolling hills; the colorful hues of various trees, homes, vehicles, sheds. So many details when I relax and just look. I'd get completely lost somehow. I was about a 1/4 mile from the house looking slightly upward. The house seemed silly and odd. I knew the house was big, but from where I was it looked relatively small. Yet... while looking it also seemed massive and sort-of out of place. I couldn't really say anything about the size of it. Just look. It was such a weird shape as I gazed - almost like it was a flat kind of rhombus. The round trunks of all the trees were flat. 


I watched a brook babble for a bit. It was breath-taking. I squirrel came by chattering loudly, flipping its tail rapidly. Foam passed down the brook. The squirrel headed off on its way. The foam disappeared around the bend. It didn't bother me at all; none of that belongs to me. I just sit with it. 


I watched a priest mount the altar. He spoke a while. Some parishioners paraded forward, nodded, walked back to their seats. The Eucharist faded back into the tabernacle. It didn't bother me at all; none of that belongs to me. I just sit with it. 


I sat quietly this morning. 


The clock ticked. The nose itched. The belly grumbled. The mind chattered. The body relaxed. The peeked above the hill and the colors were crazy.

Children awoke. The quiet went away. The itch was gone. The mind chattered. The body tensed. The sun was up and the colors were regular. 


It didn't bother me at all; none of that belongs to me. I just sit with it. 


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This morning I was alarmed. I noted a tab beneath my name labeled "My Attachments." 


I was sure I'd dropped them all. At least a year ago, anyway. Maybe more. One never knows with these pesky attachments.


Let me tell you the relief when I clicked on it, and it said "0MB" under "My Attachments." Turns out, I don't have any attachments, after all. Phew. 


I've been taking cold showers. It's glorious. The difference between a hot shower and a cold one, it appears (spoiler alert), is mental. It all started because of Wim Hof. Many things have. His breathing exercises are excellent - some will say it's just Tummo, but there are distinctions. Probably mental. 


In a really beautiful hot shower, there is tingling, rushing movements throughout the core. At the end, the skin is red and one needs a towel. In a gorgeously freezing shower, there is tingling, rushing movements throughout the core. At the end, the skin is red and one needs a towel. They're both wonderful, as it turns out. There are, apparently, some health benefits to the cold version, if that's your thing. It's also enlightening to experiment with tendency, preference, and habit...if that's your thing. 


Time for a bagel. The site was wrong. I'm still attached to bagels. It's probably mental. 


I wonder if Wim eats bagels. He strikes me as more of a raw broccoli sort. If I eat more broccoli, maybe I'll be more like Wim. Or perhaps I'll just start gaining some MBs in "My Attachments." 


I'll stick to the bagel and throw care to the wind. 



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Is it actually moving? Colloquially, we say the river runs. It appears to run. It seems you can perceive movement, gurgling, perhaps a stick floating by; yet the river is unmoving. Is it? Maybe it's both. 


Once in a while, I get this sense of total aloneness. Like I'm the only witness to whatever is going on inside a sort of squishy marble of existence. Everything is moving and people are talking (sometimes to me), but it still feels like there isn't anyone there at all. I see people...things...I hear ideas, and yet...


It's all very interesting. Less frequently, I get a sense of deep lonliness that can be briefly disturbing. Then... I don't know. I'm back, I suppose. 

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Posted (edited)

Nothing happened. Everything is happening. Nothing will ever happen. 


Confusing, eh? Tell me about it.


To describe a happening, one must give time, place, and action. I ate cheese yesterday. There's really none of that which can be examined and found to be true outside of thinking. 


Even now, in this beingness of 'moment' eating cheese is still thinking. Thoughts are required to express that which appears to be happening, so that one can form the language of description. So it cannot be done without thoughts. One must just be silent for the truth of whatever appears to be happening. It can't be told. It can't be shared. 


"Yes, yes, yes, but it's cheese!" They'll ejaculate, "Surely, man, the cheese is real! I taste it!"  Don't worry about the cheese. Ignore the fromage. Turn a blind eye to the queso, amigo. Do not be fooled by the сыр. Don't describe it. Taste the truth of that "thing" called cheese...fromage...queso... and let it be. 


If someone were to ask what you did earlier - without relying on thoughts - what could really be said? Was there really an earlier? Did the cheese tasting even happen? Was it all a mental fabrication? Lean into it. There's no cheese here now. There's no taste or experience here now. There's a mental image of someone eating cheese. Can it be said it was you? Can it be said to have been real or is it all imagination and mental fabrication? What else is like this? Everything? 


**On an unrelated note** 

I work with a bunch of jerks. A couple of days ago, one of them called me a lot of names and said I should just "end it," whatever that means. I was regaling my mom with the tale about how I had been verbally assaulted by colleagues (this was yesterday). I told her how they called me such things as useless and knucklehead. These guys are real peaches, but there's little to be done about it. They're big boys, ya know. 


So anyway, I was crying and snotting all over the place as I told my mom how mean these mean meanies were. Boogers on my sleeve. Pit in my stomach. Anxiety about going back to work Monday. I was just a puddle, frankly. I could see it all happening (again?) as I described it. I was here, and they were standing over there; they said this and I said that; the boss told us to do something else; I couldn't even begin to consider finishing my work. It was wild. I didn't know what to do. 


Mother told me I shouldn't take life so seriously and those mean guys were just no-goods trying to make themselves feel better. She tucked me in for the night. As I fell asleep, I had the distinct taste of feta on my tongue... I think. 

Edited by A Tim
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15 hours ago, A Tim said:

Mother told me I shouldn't take life so seriously and those mean guys were just no-goods trying to make themselves feel better. She tucked me in for the night. As I fell asleep, I had the distinct taste of feta on my tongue... I think. 

Nice read 😂 Sounds like a great mother also

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Were I a dervish, I'd not whirl so much or so fervently.

Were I a geisha, I'd not paint up my face so heavily or so starkly. 

Were I a felis catus, I'd not purr whenever contented or satisfied. 

Were I a robber baron, I'd not dominate the economic playing field at the expense of all others. 

Were I a meadow lark, I'd have a brighter yellow upon my breast plate.

Were I a politician, I'd be more attuned to the citizens.

Were I a monk, I'd meditate better.

Were I a better version of this or a bastardized version of that; Were I a worse version of that or a sanctified version of this.


I am a dervish recklessly whirling.. 

I am a geisha heavily painted.

I am a cat purring unashamed.

I am a robber baron counting my millions. 

I am a dull meadow lark.

I am a deaf politician.

I am a sleepy monk. 


Were I enlightened, I'd not sit and perseverate... I would just be that which I am. 

I am enlightened. I sit and perseverate as that which I am. 

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One time, I was analyzing the apparent biology of human according to the text books. In conversation, that is. 


If vibrating light is concentrated by the lens of the eye and focused to the rear, in a point, at which location the ocular nerve (or whatever) transmits said information rearward to the brain. The brain takes said information (not actual patterns of light themselves, but interpretations of patterns of light passed rearward) and constructs its best evaluation, presenting it to "you" in the form of vision. That vision exists entirely within the skull. The brain is relying entirely on the intelligence provided "outside" the skull, but locked inside. It gives you a rendering of the "outside world" in which you move about. 


Consider that...the entire experience is like virtual reality, even from a biology perspective. You're not out there. Your brain creates a video-game-world to navigate without you ever actually seeing whatever is "out there." That means that as far as you can possibly see to the horizon....is inside you... inside your head, I suppose. It's a giant dream world inside of you, biologically speaking (including your perceptions of yourself).  The same is true for the other senses. Is there anything accessible outside of that...?


I got a Rumba recently. I downloaded the app and fired it up. It went about the house, bumping into absolutely everything. Walls, chairs, doorjambs, stools, couches... man, you name it, and it bounced off it. Not just once or twice, mind you. This thing would hit a solid object, bounce off, turn around twice, and hit it again. Just to make sure, I guess. Then it would just keep on keeping on. It didn't drool or anything, fortunately. No cooing or throwing tantrums, either. 


The second time I sent it out into the wilderness of the house, it did better. It ran aground fewer times and didn't bonk its nose so often. It still appeared pitiful from an anthropomorphic point of view, and I felt bad for it. It didn't cry at all. No complaints were lodged that I'm presently aware of.


After the third time, my app informed me that the Rumba had mapped my house and I could review the plan. I checked it out. If I squinted and tilted my head a bit, it was a perfect representation of the floorplan of my home. It was fairly remarkable. I wonder how the Rumba renders that floorplan for itself, "first-person." All its horizons are just digital projections within its computations. None of the walls are real in there. 


It doesn't seem to mind in the least, anyway. 

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Confession. I have three children. They are of varying ages. I tried for three of the same age, but it just didn't come together. 


Sometimes they like to accompany me places. Typically, it's if I mention I'm going to get ice cream or some terribly delicious awfulness powered by sugar. 


I can fool them from time to time, though, and they'll accompany me to a place like Lowe's Home Improvement. Sometimes I go there because I'm under the delusion the things I'm capable of include improving my home. 


At Lowe's they have large carts with race cars attached to the front; usually they have flames shooting up the sides, which gives an appearance of sexiness and excitement. The kids have the delusion it's a fast car and completely ignore the cart it's mounted to; there are even steering wheels inside. 


When I push the oldest one around in the cart, she doesn't deign to grasp the wheel or beep the horn. She just sits there pissed off because she can't control the direction. She will often fold her arms and cast glares about as various other shoppers wave to her, exclaim how fun it looks, and so forth. She's totally unconvinced it could be an enjoyable experience overall. Every so often she'll complain that people are staring at her, ask why they bother talking to her, and how much longer this has to go on. 


My middle kid...he tries to steer. He honks the horn and yells at people to move before they get hit. He yells at people for being on the wrong side of the aisle. Nobody ever gets struck and there are never any collisions. He steers wildly around saying, "that way! I said that way!" while being well aware that the cart is, in fact, going in the opposite direction. He'll get all kinda ticked off about it and curse the steering gods that they weren't with him in the turns. Then he goes back to steering wildly and aiming for the displays of spray paint, hoping to bust through it in spectacular fashion. When it doesn't go according to plan, he laughs maniacally and tries to go headlong into some new obstacle. Never works; never bothers him for more than a moment. 


The third child...she just sits and smiles. Laughs as people talk to her. Eyes wide, she takes in the gigantic shelving piled with goods. Clearly, she's in awe of the entire thing. Curiously, sometimes as the cart turns, she'll lightly grab the wheel and turn in the same direction. Then she'll laugh a little and go back to just riding along - totally out of control, uncertain and uncaring about the next turn. She never tries to run into anything, yet she never steers to avoid anything either. She just goes where the cart goes, laughing and wide-eyed. 


In all cases, the kids arrive at the checkout required to pay-up. They experience very different trips through the store. 

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Three kiddos as well. 🍻 They used to love driving at Lowe’s. I’d tell em I’ll be looking only at the steering wheel, not where we’re going. Sometimes they’d call my bluff and crash into aisles. One of em drove out of lowes and into Guitar Center & Hobby Lobby. Crazy kids. 🤷‍♂️ 

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If I look out the window, I see so many things. An eclipsing sun, for example. Some birds. Cars driving by. I see a squirrel hopping along the ground. 


What have they to do with me?  Nada. They are just out there life-ing.


The sun isn't eclipsing for me.... for anyone at all; it's just a happening.


The birds flitting about aren't mine; I see them flapping their wings and hear their squawks. That's it. I watch them because they're beautiful, they fly away, and I let them go. 


Cars driving by have no awareness of me and have nothing to do with me at all. 


Thoughts... now they appear to have something to do with me. Why? Habit?


Thoughts appear and are observed. They then fly away if I let them go, they are as ephemeral as watching birds. Is it just habit that makes them seem so much more important than the passing birds and cars?


Upon inspection, everything is actually quite intimate, isn't it? I just believe that thoughts are the most intimate and most important, and the basis for...knowing? What's knowing?


Knowing is comfortable. There's a belief that not knowing is uncomfortable and potentially unsafe. So the apparent knower is concrete and safe haven. 


To let go of the thoughts to the same degree the birds are released.... would that be supreme freedom? Thoughts try to say no.... but I'm not sure if they are trustworthy. What are they, anyway? Do they even happen to anyone? Or do they just happen? Like a bird or an eclipse. 



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