An endless variety of form and formlessness (ready to be observed and interpreted by none-else but you)
...sometimes ~ juxtaposed ~ appearing in your way as you keep coming along in search of an ultimate kind of love ~ which certainly exists.
Until you begin to realize...
that if it's not coming through you,
you can't eat off that fruit without keeping to spend it yourself for any length of time.
A moment would always be ANNA. And even MANNA.. for you and many.
We all get glimpses of an ultimate reality (and if our hearts want to know more, stabilizing 'it' can be learned on this earth in this lifetime from a Mystic most anywhere these days as they spread globally).
Rudy Giuliani: When you tell me that should testify because he’s going to tell the truth and he shouldn’t worry, that’s so silly, because it’s somebody’s version of the truth. Not the truth.
Chuck Todd: Truth is truth.
Giuliani: No, it isn’t truth. Truth isn’t truth.
The thing you have to understand is that there is nothing to testify about. Certainly, objective reality does not exist. None of my actions have consequences because there is no world outside myself. That is why I work for the Trump administration. (Which does not, of course, exist — a fact that is a constant balm to the consciences of those who work there, assuming they can be said to work for a thing whose existence is in doubt, and assuming they possess consciences.)
You, Chuck, are, I believe, limited by the notion that we share a frame of reference. That what one of us does affects another. This is, of course, untrue.
When I move my hand in front of my face, in reality there is no hand. When someone shouts “Lock her up!” at a rally, it does not make a sound. The only thing keeping Merrick Garland off the Supreme Court is his belief that he is not on the Supreme Court.
Don’t you see? You are trapped in a prison created by your own mind, is what I would like to tell the children at the border, who, again, do not exist, and are only stimuli generated by a bored demon tormenting my mind in a jar...
I knew a guy who claimed he was in a class where the professor was going over a long derivation that was for the most part going way over his head. He had the blackboard almost completely filled with equations when all of a sudden he stopped dead in his tracks and just stared a the board for about 20 seconds. He then started to frantically erase everything saying "I'm terribly sorry. I just realized this has a practical application and is outside the scope of this class."
Takes me back to freshman year of high school with a first-year teacher of geometry, Mr. Milgram. Nice guy but he didn't know how to keep the attention of the class. He had this awful, awful habit of writing out a proof on the chalkboard and then stopping to mutter "Wait...what if I did it this way?" and then sketching out an alternate route to the proof. Sometimes he'd make it, although the class didn't know which route to write down and learn. Other times Milgram would conclude no, no the alternate route wouldn't work...and the class would have to erase that from their notebooks. Milgram was also massively disorganized.
Things got so bad by the third quarter that one day the class openly rebelled and started mocking him in a cacophony of jeers and imitations. Milgram fled the classroom, replaced five minutes a very wrathy head of the department. Students explained to Mr. Breaux what had been going on for months and how frustrated we all were. We were seriously behind schedule for the year. Breaux took up where Milgram left off and suddenly the class—even the sophomores who were on the low-level track for their class—was attentive and asking questions.
