the study of pleasure

the study of pleasure,

to experience defining pleasure,

cultivate broad based tedium.

for without framing and time-lines

pleasure can't delve with experiential depth.

constant pleasure looses its impactfulness.

audience of self has attention-span limits.

contrast is essential to poignancy's focus.

if pleasure were a constant state,

that demystifies the nature of experience.

outer world influence would be minimal,

and the general demeanor is vastly shifted.

pleasure then becomes a knock at the door.

curiousness is having distractive attention.

pleasure suspends the timing sense.

pleasure fronts with occupancy.

framing it, gives the notion of impact.

comparative truth applauds the experience.

witness to oneself has dimensional presence

to what is the happening.

nuances bolstering the titillation affect.

pleasure requires audience presence.

intervals between intakes, 

intense intimacy is fostering breaks.

a life of unrelenting pleasure

is eventually just boredom olympics.

experience demand breaks.

stimuli intake is intermittent.

pleasure is all highlighter 

on the whiteboard of living.

if a page was all one color 

words of that color wouldn't read.

we're dedicated to sensory contrasts.

pleasure rides that principle to the max.

inward witness focus

is not dedicate to the notion of pleasure.

they reside where they abide.

for what is constant in them

does not feature contrast.

for them, if edginess is in play,

pleasure is complimentary surround. 

experience, as a technique, is suspect,

as a lobbyist in a reality setting. 

refinement of intake has questions,

how experience is affecting one's being.

so how to vibrationally broadcast spirit

without projecting a self 

in distraction and defiance. 

in its defense, pleasure is a keynote speaker.

but it is what it is for what it does, 

until it is not what it appears to be.

and then we are not that audience 

at affect of experience's pseudo efforts . . .

life in the ever-change

everything is looking radically different once again.

I see the sameness of differences 

continually happening.

no two experiences are a matching set.

the novelty of differences 

is a kind of boredom.

comparative truth is 

at ad nauseam ongoing. 

experience is an inner voiced chatty-cathy.

what is with the ever monologue?

I have to go to another room inside myself,

far away from the chatter and blab.

oh, to live in a self-consciousness, 

where conclusions have 

short attention spans.

I asked for trees 

and a hammock slowly swinging,

a partial sky 

with placid exposure looking back.

I wanted gravity to hug me 

by the swing of it

and for visual focus to come from distant

all the way into my eyes closed. 

but still in color-blends 

and curvaceous sight.

here is an inner stream 

that passes through me.

it has visuals and muted sounds.

we are buddies, now and then.

I don't regard this as experience

but more so as secret friends.

it's a world of worth,

without comparisons or otherwise account.

I figured, we each have one,

somewhere within the morass of it all.

I'm not saying sanity

but I am with spirit in mind 

and asking for heart with soul . . .

oneness is

 

you can't agree to oneness.

surrender does not have that 

as a positional stance.

oneness overwhelms 

the experience medium.

there is no one person left

to explain, define, or account.

there is no sense of journey.

the table spread of time does not exist.

there is no pointedness of perspective.

all of the plate of think 

has lost its articulation,

for there is no view of audience inheritance. 

awe itself is an isness of presence.

it is an intimacy without a here or there,

without surface 

or even the expression of space.

being is occupancy 

without awareness of such.

experience is but decals

left of the luggage of self, 

not brought along as if journey.

all of meaningful was 

just the wardrobe of nudists. 

this, as isness, is ungraspable, 

accept by being.

there is an eternal sound

that is not differentiated,

therefore it is not sensate heard.

it is beyond felt as identifiable.

even the sense of isness

looses its discern-ability.

dimensional presence is 

overwhelm consuming.

no one is, ever more.

surrender looses its sense of loss 

and its sense of gain.

meaning is discarded, 

to be

and be is non-referential in its nature.

oneness is,

without language, 

meaning or experience . . .

 

 

belief mutuality

 

belief mutuality won't destroy us.

we are a collective cohesive by means.

we are not measured 

by the goods we create.

but we, as the heart of the matter,

are the privacy of undocumented origin.

we link up in thematic momentaries,

have somewhat causes 

represent us as unified,

put emotional attention 

at the forefront of our sensing,

try on verbiage that might represent us,

be seen as going forward 

with collected intent,

and try to bath and bask 

in the same emotional sea.

while others try 

to make this ocean into a pool,

have localized rules 

for entry and swim behavior,

limit membership 

assumed for safety reasoning,

then create lifeguards 

for the kiddy-pools.

why is all of awareness 

tailored to be fear driven observance? 

all, with respectful deliverance 

yet having ulterior self-serving motives?

is it because belief mutuality 

is grounds for monetary motives?

is it for the invasion of profit-goals

by divide and conquer 

in low-key approaches?

what happened 

to the encampment of great cause?

confluence for and with regard 

for the collective of others?

we seem to be in self directive override.

I feel like, 

I can speak no more for others

belief mutuality maybe reduced

to being a wardrobe choice 

for now . . .

just in daze's journey

just in a daze's journey,

in the absence of evidence, 

as approval,

is imaging, 

ever a light switch 

of prejudice?

then is prejudice 

ever a position of value?

well then, 

is value 

ever the suggestion of truth?

and will truth 

ever ride a presence 

above belief

while opinion 

ever wanders, 

looking for the light?

the mystery

nuance reality is as necessity,

curiosity, ever the delve.

what taste? 

what flavor? 

what smell?

what feel? 

what mean?

what left unsaid?

buoyancy on the river of emotion.

meaning, not settling for understand.

finding origin of being,

ever the cause, 

for deep well concern,

to sip aliveness,

to sense the radiance in its birth,

to align without effort,

to anchor in harmony,

to ally without evident agreement,

to be essence with, 

before apparency is the subtle rush,

to rest within the subtle folds,

to be warmth,

given and received,

to know myself. 

before I know of myself.

a mystery resolved,

by being . . .

heart as watershed

from where the heart should be 

a watershed,

riding the current of caring, 

up and outward.

each sip and each bask 

for another rewarding,

from the depths of being 

brought forth.

benefits of upliftment 

presenting of themselves.

for that which arises, 

comes to align,

as the liquidity of beings 

in viscosity, 

so that the mind can drink

and the hearts come 

to nurture for themselves.

we are all the wells of worth 

for each other,

well within deeply drawn 

into forthcoming.

find us where we are the coming 

of the spring.

the nurturance 

commonly immersed in caring.

we have connection there 

before we have words.

the feel from each other 

provides the nurturance.

from there, 

the world is in a greenhouse 

of potential,

to present as livingness, 

crossing into the collective.

we are all the wisdom of water,

in deeply original heartfelt ways . . .

the math of everydayness

in the sum total of everydayness,

who is the math of this self-consciousness?

and who has the bottom line presence 

to respond?

post all of these details added together,

with the pluses and the minuses 

off each other,

ever forward, in a running account, 

even beyond 

the ever advancing totaling amount.

to go to where the sum is way more 

than ever the sum of the parts.

what math is that, 

that passion of being 

makes summing of any worth?

where is it that everydayness 

transcends a summing remark?

where each experience plays 

beyond declared value?

where chalk in the hand to the blackboard 

does not deny the heart of the matter.

and that the math 

that defies logic and circumstance

is where a running total 

of borderline bliss is.

yes, somewhere buried 

behind account and totals.

maybe this should be called higher math,

yet profoundly taught in everyday life,

wildly, across the board . . .

beyond meaningful

for the riches of life beyond meaningful,

for the vast, 

beyond accountable as its means,

the very poignant 

that has no reference point,

where search and seek 

abandon their master

and what comes your way 

but is unrecognized 

and possibly not initially attended to.

how can there be, 

without a frame of reference?

where drivenness never thought to look

and there is no chance

of sensory conformation,

not even inner dialogue can entertain.

but there 'there' is 

and vastly so.

extensive but inconspicuously non-evident. 

a life beyond comparatives.

not even relevancy 

raises its opinionated head.

well "there, there is" is a misnomer.  

what is, is non-referential.

even to call it a state of being

is an audience referral position.

for there of "there there is" 

has no audience potential

you are. 

and if you are aware,

it is only as embodiment.

any takeaway is a form of reductionism.

the more fully you are there,

the less likely you'll ever come back to here.

in fact, that there was always there.

our here is only a minor ploy, 

once that there is 

reaches down into our here.

and in what form, from our here,

we would call that a realization,

just to keep ourselves 

in our entrapment securely?

is in reference to that there

I could state 

that doing understanding of 'there'

would fall away as relevant 

in short notice.

just imagine that kind of 'there'

is already part of here.

but unaccessibly detained 

from our presence

because of our preoccupancy with our short-sided here.

once we figure out the riddle 

proposed by the use of a mirror,

then we can get on to non-reflective oneness,

where retention serves no purpose

and purpose has no cause for concern

and ultimately, concern is nonexistent. 

for 'there' are the riches of life 

beyond meaningful . . .