We can’t trick the truth by hiding from it

we can’t trick reality by denying it


we can’t subtract our differences from the social equation

we can’t avoid our conflicts


we can’t jettison the sandbags of the flesh

we can’t outmaneuver the flow of life


we cannot rationalize our way out of the mess of it

we cannot explain away the dilemma of it

we cannot transcend the problem of life


but we can choose…

We can choose to say yes and stay honest

we can choose to pay attention

we can choose to be an honest witness

we can choose to be kind

we can choose to let ourselves make mistakes

and always to take the next step

we can choose to take on whatever gives


We can choose the truth as our true north.


The Essence of Dualism


The immune system is not a non-dualist. It is there to keep what is “not-me” at bay.

The ego has as much place in our lives as the immune system does in our bodies. It has as much legitimacy and plays as pivotal a role. It’s a natural function separating the self from the Other and the elements of the world.

Contrary to the view of many enlightenment chasing “self-helpers,” the ego—along with its projection of the Other—is not a problem to be transcended. (It’s one’s identification with the ego function that spawns the problems—problems such as obsessive compulsive behavioral patterns, hoarding, addictions, depression, dysfunctional attachments, etc.) In the end, the ego is a tool that we use to embody the truth in the flesh in the world.

The Other, and the threat of the unknowable and the unknown, is inextinguishable. It’s part and parcel of the Oneness we come from.


We all heard about the danger of divers ascending too fast to the surface in deep water. It’s called decompression sickness. There is probably something similar going on in the psychic realm when the (drug- or radicalism induced) removal of the oppressive weight of previous belief systems and cognitive filters leave a vacuum in their wake that releases all the unresolved traumas incurred / compartmentalized by same.

The unbearable lightness of being is like having the bends which results in a highly strung, unbalanced grasping after a new weight of meaning: to find bearing within a new set of boundaries, through a recalibrated comportment towards the Other. (Nihilism and tribalism, so rampant in the 21st century, are the first reflexes to deflect the confusion and anxiety arising out of this liminal state.)


In essence: spiritualism is about the cultivation of a wholesome and honest relationship with the Other, and not about reaching an escape velocity from it.

I Meditates /tesserae


read HERE



there is clean air and green



the sound of birds here and



a fly buzzing by a couple of

cars in the

distance a tractor roaring


the sun dancing in blobby

patches on my upper body

light breeze whispering

through leaves in the trees


the shadow of leaves

on my yellow T minuscule

green bugs

on my arms bugs a-whirl

under the leafage


a dog’s barking insects in

the grass

pigeon cooing

a plane droning overhead

in the sky—


the texture feels balming

and silky—

like silk shirt rippling on

the fine dough of my body

in the early summer oven


oh yeah!



I am the son of the sun.



when you sit down to meditate: ask yourself directly what you are expecting from doing it. where do you expect to arrive at. what psychological state are you in fact chasing. what are you actually after?

for me: it is basically a sense of feeling OK. a sense of being right there where I belong. a sense of being grounded in the given moment and place. among the people who matter to me and the people to whom I matter. where I feel satisfied with where and what and how I am. where everything’s in its place. where I feel integral to a whole.

or basically a sense of having a clear conscience. a sense of being responsible for myself and for my life. that I am not a burden on anyone. that I am not an imposition. on the contrary: that my presence adds something of value to the people and the world around me. that I am conducive to the well-being of the world around me. that my contribution matters. that my talents are relevant.


I expect to be relieved of the pressure of feeling guilty for who I am. I expect to be guilt- and shame-free. I expect to feel that my existence is of use and of value and that I am a PLUS rather than a MINUS (i.e. a useless hunk of mushy flesh—a waste of precious resources).

that’s basically what I expect to feel.

and then: I allow myself the feeling.



nowadays the attitude of enjoying quietude is a rather neglected aptitude.



each moment you can choose between opening up—or contracting around a trickle and shallow treat of yet another distraction.

the more you choose the latter: the less you’ll feel alive and well.



the heavy flapping of pigeon wings wrinkles up the smooth fabric of quietude.



the whimper of a lawn mower

a mile away


a car’s door slamming shut

the engine revving up


a neighbor sweeping their


a couple houses down the



a black ant reconnoitering

on my left knee

green apple snug on

the wet sand in front of me


a cockchafer riding the air

like chopper

the train at the edge of the

town passing by

in the direction of the capital



when a sliver of a childhood feeling pierces me. the richness of it overwhelms me. to such an extent that it feels too much to take. without breaking down into sobbing. how simple it was. and how free of the mind. of the demands of the ego.

it was so pure and so simple.

so natural.



the clouds morph into sky. the apple rots on the ground. there is coming and going. and a restless madness in between.



what a cruel joke is this. we learn how to properly live only in retrospect. we realize what matters only after it’s gone. we find true joy in the finality of our sadness.



being honest with yourself is difficult: precisely to the extent that you refrain from being bored—sitting in silence meditating on stuff by putting questions to yourself and inquiring—on a regular basis.

because the less you work out your honesty-muscle the more atrophied it gets.



the sun’s sons we are.



there’s church bell tolling and a

pig groaning

in a sty nearby (must be big from

the sound of it)


and the sound of the pen on the

paper I am holding


mosquito fixing to start drilling

near my ankle on my left leg


there is constant stirring.


stillness indeed is a shifty business.



so here I am and I am here and I say yes:

I allow what is and I roll with what gives,

I say yes because I am here and I say yes,

not because I want to change the world,

or to change the people of the world, no

I say yes because I’m here and life is yes,

life is yes and so I say yes: simple as that,

I take what life gives and I give what life

takes, yes: I say yes because even if it is

a goddamn mess, in the end, life is a yes


Inside Out

They say that the way out is through: that the way to the other is through the self: that the way out is through going in. But it’s just as true to say the flip side of all this: That it is by going out that we find our way in: That we are born to explore: That we are mobile creatures with limbs and a sex for a reason: That we’re here to move about and engage and discover how life flows, how life is flowering through us—reincarnated as it were in a particular way through each one of us: For it is out there where we find true intimacy with all that is ultimately within.