BETWEEN THE SELF AND THE SELF IS MARGARET
If you have access to an Omnibeing it does not hurt you to take advantage of it by asking for some guidance. Wisely this is precisely why I encouraged every encounter with this strange being that seemed to mean so much and yet offered very little concrete material to work with. I felt the need for his opinions, it seem that even he thought of his truths as mere opinions, and that he was flexible in letting them move out of the way and perish if they could not support themselves on their own. That kind of wisdom is very difficult to grasp. How can one be strong of will and character if one does not insist on believing in something? Omnibeing’s willingness to surrender without struggle on any concern contradicted my ideas of existence, especially because, here on earth, one had to really believe in existence in order to toil to accomplish just the basic necessities of survival. Life was not easy, it was belief and a willingness not to compromise that made it survive and outlive other less fanatic species. Anyways all the while that Omnibeing seemed to believe in nothing he still seemed to be speaking with the authority of a universal master, hard to contradict, and yet what was most incredible was that he was not only not asking me to believe anything told to me, but more even if I had opted to believe in any of it, action seemed impossible, his comments could not be constructed as words for action, rather than feel how the world might be a better place if it worked based on Omnibeing’s premises, rather than fancying that it was incredulous to even imagine that the world ever could work in such manner. The world was not like that, Omnibeing was not from here, he was not telling me how things worked here, he was telling me how the universe imagines itself to be, and he was willing to relinquish those beliefs if they bothered me in any way, it hurt him nothing, it hurt the universe nothing.
Don’t follow me unless you are a leader, don’t follow me if you are not a believer, don’t follow me if your inner being does not lead you where I am going, don’t follow me because you don’t know yourself, don’t follow me if you can not lead me. Just don’t follow me. Everything he said was detached but not neutral, it had repercussions, impossible repercussions because I could not even do anything his words might suggest; you don’t converse with Omnibeings because you get something out of it, you do it because you are crazy, they don’t care, they will talk tall to you, they just don’t care.
A thousand years in the hole and all we have left are the charred carcasses in the closet of existence. Omnibeing new what I was asking, instantly aware of it, and so he continued as if we had never cease our earlier conversation.
“It is not about the mission, it is not an act to live, it is more a matter of letting existence happen to your being. You are this essence which you are, actions driven by your external feedback can only contradict the conditions of your being, you must rest back and let your sails catch the winds they will, you must lean back into yourself, rest within the confines of your being and then let the bottle rockets explode all around you if they so will, but don’t you try to infest your being by correcting the path of your ways and your travels with the external stimuli that always calls us to action and mandates from another and another and none really. Settle into yourself, settle into your heart of being, trust that inner being to sail well wherever its currents might cruise. The trick of existence is to lean into the self; the world has long been busy trying to connect to that impossibility by external means, it has largely failed because what matters is what is at the core, it is the core that holds all the externals together, you see the attachments, but all the attachments are somehow connected to the core that drives them to clamp structure into existence, the core is savage, it is raw, it is pure nasty energy, fall into your core and you will bathe in savage plasma, you will grow from your self imposed cannibalism, eat and consume your being, live because you consume your being, allow that blind consumption to become the concern of the external world and let it adapt to it, if they can’t adapt they will try to kill you, if they succeed your death will liberate you.”
The guy is obviously a fanatic, acting wise but truly a fanatic, to believe so much in the essence of self without taking your environment into consideration was just the kind of extreme that would get me killed. And I am told that death will liberate me if they are able to kill me, what a truly caring Omnibeing, liberation via death just seems like the wrong road to travel, that again requires more faith than I have on the continuity of self or even in the perdition of self, people die all the time, and they seem to intuitively avoid it. Omnibeing interrupts my maliciously grievous state of thought, “Why do people die avoiding death? The most common thing is death, at any given time in the universe more things are dead or dying than are alive or being born, the ratio is catastrophic, a million killion dead things make the most observable part of the universe, what you can see is what is usually most dead or closest to death, things slow down when they are preparing to die, beings get to know themselves when they are close to death, because everything starts stopping and their energyless comet tail trail catches up to them, if you have found yourself you are most closest to this death thing, and you must move beyond that, the boredom of awareness kills, but attempt to avoid death and you will find that in so trying to kill death you have killed life first, the only way to kill death is to kill life first! More horrid what you guard against is what you see, you are reacting to what is dead or dying in the universe. What you can know is what you don’t need to know. The observable world is what is most dead.”
Umm… there was a brilliant statement what I can know I don’t need to know and what I can not know is what I need to know. You know I have never minded irrational being but rationality can not be all bad, there must be something good to be said for it, and this whole thing about being aware of that which I can trust to be the core self and yet not have an inkling as to what it is, maddening to imagine it. I was not a lover of the rational world, surely I could blame the devil for it, the devil was really a very rational being that surrendered to everything that was immediately within his pleasure grasp, a hedonist that enjoyed the moment and forgot to listen to the core of his being, the devil falls in love with everything that is mostly dead or truly dead. And Omnibeing wanted me to love something that I can not see nor feel nor experiment with, but just to believe that there was some internal dynamic that was crashing upon me from the inner whatever and propelling me dimensionally and exponentially, really Margaret can this be true? I decided to start calling Omnibeing Margaret, it seemed like the perfect name for a butterfly essence, a perfect name for a being that believed that externals and the visible world were really the wrong path towards existence. Margaret responded. Indignantly “My name is not Margaret!” I, with tender kindness, “Who cares what your name is, you have no name, you haven’t introduced yourself, you will not meet my readers so as to prove to them that I am not some kind of a nut, so don’t tell me your name is not Margaret, not only is your name not Margaret but the name Margaret is dead what do you care about something that is dead, my dear Margaret!” A severe emphasis needed to be made by me, Omnibeing was taking too many simple pleasures toying with simplicity in my complex life, I had to bite back or remain a victim of his arrogant indifference. “Ok Margaret actually sounds good, I think I could like the name, better yet I think I already like it, “Margaret” Yes indeed it is a very nice name has kind of a severe strongness to it, it could be the center of something, or even the murderer of something, almost makes me concrete real, almost makes me stand still, almost makes me old and aware of myself, almost kills me, I think I understand why you intuitively baptize me with such a name, I deign then that from here on I shall be called Margaret not only here but everywhere, Margaret, yes Margaret.” I humbly responded to his gusto bravado, “Margaret I am glad you like it, sounds kind of like a sad name, maybe it even cries a lot, yeah it sounds like a wailing storm of tears. Margaret might even be a kind of mud puddle for suffering, Margaret yea sounds like a mud puddle of devastating unhappiness. Margaret.” Omnibeing just stretched upon the last comment, went into a kind of personal massage, where it seemed that his entire essence had disappeared from our mutual presence. Then he came back laughing, and then seemingly screaming with joy, his obsidian coral arms reaching exultation into the infinity “My name is Margaret!”
“Sometimes it just takes a little time to get used to a name.” I remarked candidly and frankly a bit frustrated by Margaret’s ability to adapt. Margaret replied not to ease my perturbations, “When I came to your audience, I wanted to reach you and answer your calling questions but to reach you required that I take the longest route, for though I am no different than thyself, we are all individuals; it is merely the path we travel that makes us unique, I knew to reach you would require me to travel the route that you had traveled away from yourself, and then imposed myself upon you there. And hence that read that thee has traveled away from thyself is also the least possible distance which you can acquire between the universe and your soul, then though I traveled the longest route to you, I have dutifully and equally traveled the shortest. And now imposed upon by the measure of your imaginary creations, I have taken longer than ought be necessary to accept the name of Margaret that thou imposes upon me and yet it imposes nothing so that for me to negate it is to negate nothing.” I sneezed, it was an attempt at emptiness within my constipated lungs; Margaret paused only long enough to ignore the sneezing, “and all just to tell you that you are not here to reproduce what has already been done, that it is not about doing with what you have on hand but with what you don’t have in hand. Everything else is impossible with what you have on hand, everything else!” Long pause, slight burp and breath and… “It is about doing what has not been done.” Arching his large magnificent hands above his head Margaret pronounced a sweet melody, pronged and universal dancing a sweetening spiral across the room and back towards me. “It is about knowing how to dance and swing with yourself, about sharing your lips with spiraling Earth, where every kiss encounters your saliva, where in their green eyes are your green eyes; where you have feared to thread within yourself, and travel the shortest distance in the universe, which is between the self and the self, the subjective self, the narrowest point in the universe, the smallest most individual entity, and we are all individuals but for the paths we travel; YES! I am Margaret, I love Margaret, she is a sweet bitch, and I like her red dress, I love her red dress, which is now my red dress!” Best I could tell Omnibeing was happy to be Margaret.
I was smiling from the wild commentary, the proposition was certainly interesting, ingesting the knowledge that the world offers might not be conducive to the self. The consumption of knowledge merely induces the excretion of an external world and this mierda is inevitably going to attack you. The self could certainly be the shortest distance between two points, and once one pivots on one’s gyroscopic self, every point in space ought be equal distance from there, creating a personal symmetry, but instead we travel through knowledge. Only if knowledge was the answer we would have found it already. In pursuit of knowledge I had traveled away from my gyroscopic stabilizing self, off kilter left to struggle against my own soul which unfortunately does not fight back through proxy, this soul of mine always storming its end-user, and no one else; because my soul doesn’t care about the external world. It all made sense to me now. So far had I made Margaret travel so that she could reach my heart. I was so externally defined that everything that made me fought everything I was with the fatal courage of fear. Locked in a stasis of ideas, laboring on behalf of my own deception that there might be such a thing as a real world. Surely there are indeed worlds that are necessary, but that will not make them any more true.
Hello my dear reader, my name is Margaret I am and have been your protagonist and the scribe of these pages. May I be allowed a pardon for having digested Omnibeing and found myself in the middle of these pages? Undoubtedly the book is doomed, so is all objectivity, having I now no other point of reference but myself, which was probably true all along, only now it is actually truer. To escape the self is only a torture that makes for good books, sadly for this one, having narrowed all my personalities into an absurd singularity you will now have but me to contend with. Oh but do not despair, there is still the curse that I picked up as a child in Colombia with any luck that ought help us or keep us entertained till the end of the book. And not to leave the jitterbug out of the picture, “Music Maestro!”
Music halts.
Oh the passions and secrets that a woman possesses are so great and enigmatic that even she does not know of them. Hear me out now that I can speak from her heart! Hear me now.
A woman will never be with a man that is less intelligent than she is, since this equals all men a man can only be with a woman if he can fool her. Man looks for a woman that he has a firm grasp of, someone that to great extent he can control and deceive, a woman inversely searches for a man that she can’t figure out and often finds the one that can fool her.
Ha! I am now one of them, possessor of the great energies that harness life.
Grasping hands
We were straining vein blossoming obsidian hands in dimensional sleeps
He recumbent dying
I recumbent consummating desires
Sharing metallic shivering darkness
Slivering atmospheres purging our nostrils
He grieving snail pain
I terminal rapture
Our obsidian blossoming veins sweating antipodean sufferings
Torrents of death
Torturous ecstasy
I never felt him die
I am still grasping his hand…
I am Margaret, I can love another woman. Never shall I dare envision loving the frustrated energies of a man, the angst ridden soul of mortal man is not for my red blistering lips to kiss, I shall seek the loves of women; digging into the emotional torrents of my kind, refreshing within me what feels the feelings that are felt, and is those very feelings. Margaret that is ME. It is so true indeed that none of you will dare scream it not, though you know it all that we have all, from little boy to tall man king, from darling little baby girl to mother wife and dame, that we are all obsessed upon the feminine. All our male or female voyeurism’s are to envy, lust and surmount our feminine essence. Ah hack to death you will the Wicked Queen Witch that enviously poisons beauties, but she is all each and everyone of us sisters; Wicked Queen Witch Syndromes wrestling for the right to hoard the treasure chest of all desire! Man may hoard power and wealth but we hoard all desire. And why we wear makeup if not to deceive each other’s cosmic temperament? Most will think it that it is because we are accentuating lines of beauty or hiding wrinkling or ugliness, or hiding ourselves; but it is none of these I say! We women wear makeup because we see the ghosting world of our inner being, because we are trying to color our soul, it has little of touch with this world, we add lipstick, eyeliner and blush to filter out the ghosting aura. No one else can see it, a woman sees these things she can not say she sees; she can not describe them to herself but with feeling washing tears. Makeup is a physical here and now reaction to our supernatural. YES I am now one my sisters and I will not shame from darting them with my eyes and dining them with my lust; and what none of you are aware of, which now I will willfully practice, is that to be the erotic woman that loves a woman is to be the ultimate feminine. The Wicked Queen Witch was in love with Snow White but could not tell herself this thing. To love a man one has to be a little less woman and more a feminine act. A woman that loves man is partially, oh yes partially a transvestite. A woman that loves a man is, I shall say it, sacrificial! True love and true femininity is lesbian at heart. “Common girls, loser plays the man!”
Don’t follow me unless you are a leader, don’t follow me if you are not a believer, don’t follow me if your inner being does not lead you where I am going, don’t follow me because you don’t know yourself, don’t follow me if you can not lead me. Just don’t follow me. Everything he said was detached but not neutral, it had repercussions, impossible repercussions because I could not even do anything his words might suggest; you don’t converse with Omnibeings because you get something out of it, you do it because you are crazy, they don’t care, they will talk tall to you, they just don’t care.
A thousand years in the hole and all we have left are the charred carcasses in the closet of existence. Omnibeing new what I was asking, instantly aware of it, and so he continued as if we had never cease our earlier conversation.
“It is not about the mission, it is not an act to live, it is more a matter of letting existence happen to your being. You are this essence which you are, actions driven by your external feedback can only contradict the conditions of your being, you must rest back and let your sails catch the winds they will, you must lean back into yourself, rest within the confines of your being and then let the bottle rockets explode all around you if they so will, but don’t you try to infest your being by correcting the path of your ways and your travels with the external stimuli that always calls us to action and mandates from another and another and none really. Settle into yourself, settle into your heart of being, trust that inner being to sail well wherever its currents might cruise. The trick of existence is to lean into the self; the world has long been busy trying to connect to that impossibility by external means, it has largely failed because what matters is what is at the core, it is the core that holds all the externals together, you see the attachments, but all the attachments are somehow connected to the core that drives them to clamp structure into existence, the core is savage, it is raw, it is pure nasty energy, fall into your core and you will bathe in savage plasma, you will grow from your self imposed cannibalism, eat and consume your being, live because you consume your being, allow that blind consumption to become the concern of the external world and let it adapt to it, if they can’t adapt they will try to kill you, if they succeed your death will liberate you.”
The guy is obviously a fanatic, acting wise but truly a fanatic, to believe so much in the essence of self without taking your environment into consideration was just the kind of extreme that would get me killed. And I am told that death will liberate me if they are able to kill me, what a truly caring Omnibeing, liberation via death just seems like the wrong road to travel, that again requires more faith than I have on the continuity of self or even in the perdition of self, people die all the time, and they seem to intuitively avoid it. Omnibeing interrupts my maliciously grievous state of thought, “Why do people die avoiding death? The most common thing is death, at any given time in the universe more things are dead or dying than are alive or being born, the ratio is catastrophic, a million killion dead things make the most observable part of the universe, what you can see is what is usually most dead or closest to death, things slow down when they are preparing to die, beings get to know themselves when they are close to death, because everything starts stopping and their energyless comet tail trail catches up to them, if you have found yourself you are most closest to this death thing, and you must move beyond that, the boredom of awareness kills, but attempt to avoid death and you will find that in so trying to kill death you have killed life first, the only way to kill death is to kill life first! More horrid what you guard against is what you see, you are reacting to what is dead or dying in the universe. What you can know is what you don’t need to know. The observable world is what is most dead.”
Umm… there was a brilliant statement what I can know I don’t need to know and what I can not know is what I need to know. You know I have never minded irrational being but rationality can not be all bad, there must be something good to be said for it, and this whole thing about being aware of that which I can trust to be the core self and yet not have an inkling as to what it is, maddening to imagine it. I was not a lover of the rational world, surely I could blame the devil for it, the devil was really a very rational being that surrendered to everything that was immediately within his pleasure grasp, a hedonist that enjoyed the moment and forgot to listen to the core of his being, the devil falls in love with everything that is mostly dead or truly dead. And Omnibeing wanted me to love something that I can not see nor feel nor experiment with, but just to believe that there was some internal dynamic that was crashing upon me from the inner whatever and propelling me dimensionally and exponentially, really Margaret can this be true? I decided to start calling Omnibeing Margaret, it seemed like the perfect name for a butterfly essence, a perfect name for a being that believed that externals and the visible world were really the wrong path towards existence. Margaret responded. Indignantly “My name is not Margaret!” I, with tender kindness, “Who cares what your name is, you have no name, you haven’t introduced yourself, you will not meet my readers so as to prove to them that I am not some kind of a nut, so don’t tell me your name is not Margaret, not only is your name not Margaret but the name Margaret is dead what do you care about something that is dead, my dear Margaret!” A severe emphasis needed to be made by me, Omnibeing was taking too many simple pleasures toying with simplicity in my complex life, I had to bite back or remain a victim of his arrogant indifference. “Ok Margaret actually sounds good, I think I could like the name, better yet I think I already like it, “Margaret” Yes indeed it is a very nice name has kind of a severe strongness to it, it could be the center of something, or even the murderer of something, almost makes me concrete real, almost makes me stand still, almost makes me old and aware of myself, almost kills me, I think I understand why you intuitively baptize me with such a name, I deign then that from here on I shall be called Margaret not only here but everywhere, Margaret, yes Margaret.” I humbly responded to his gusto bravado, “Margaret I am glad you like it, sounds kind of like a sad name, maybe it even cries a lot, yeah it sounds like a wailing storm of tears. Margaret might even be a kind of mud puddle for suffering, Margaret yea sounds like a mud puddle of devastating unhappiness. Margaret.” Omnibeing just stretched upon the last comment, went into a kind of personal massage, where it seemed that his entire essence had disappeared from our mutual presence. Then he came back laughing, and then seemingly screaming with joy, his obsidian coral arms reaching exultation into the infinity “My name is Margaret!”
“Sometimes it just takes a little time to get used to a name.” I remarked candidly and frankly a bit frustrated by Margaret’s ability to adapt. Margaret replied not to ease my perturbations, “When I came to your audience, I wanted to reach you and answer your calling questions but to reach you required that I take the longest route, for though I am no different than thyself, we are all individuals; it is merely the path we travel that makes us unique, I knew to reach you would require me to travel the route that you had traveled away from yourself, and then imposed myself upon you there. And hence that read that thee has traveled away from thyself is also the least possible distance which you can acquire between the universe and your soul, then though I traveled the longest route to you, I have dutifully and equally traveled the shortest. And now imposed upon by the measure of your imaginary creations, I have taken longer than ought be necessary to accept the name of Margaret that thou imposes upon me and yet it imposes nothing so that for me to negate it is to negate nothing.” I sneezed, it was an attempt at emptiness within my constipated lungs; Margaret paused only long enough to ignore the sneezing, “and all just to tell you that you are not here to reproduce what has already been done, that it is not about doing with what you have on hand but with what you don’t have in hand. Everything else is impossible with what you have on hand, everything else!” Long pause, slight burp and breath and… “It is about doing what has not been done.” Arching his large magnificent hands above his head Margaret pronounced a sweet melody, pronged and universal dancing a sweetening spiral across the room and back towards me. “It is about knowing how to dance and swing with yourself, about sharing your lips with spiraling Earth, where every kiss encounters your saliva, where in their green eyes are your green eyes; where you have feared to thread within yourself, and travel the shortest distance in the universe, which is between the self and the self, the subjective self, the narrowest point in the universe, the smallest most individual entity, and we are all individuals but for the paths we travel; YES! I am Margaret, I love Margaret, she is a sweet bitch, and I like her red dress, I love her red dress, which is now my red dress!” Best I could tell Omnibeing was happy to be Margaret.
I was smiling from the wild commentary, the proposition was certainly interesting, ingesting the knowledge that the world offers might not be conducive to the self. The consumption of knowledge merely induces the excretion of an external world and this mierda is inevitably going to attack you. The self could certainly be the shortest distance between two points, and once one pivots on one’s gyroscopic self, every point in space ought be equal distance from there, creating a personal symmetry, but instead we travel through knowledge. Only if knowledge was the answer we would have found it already. In pursuit of knowledge I had traveled away from my gyroscopic stabilizing self, off kilter left to struggle against my own soul which unfortunately does not fight back through proxy, this soul of mine always storming its end-user, and no one else; because my soul doesn’t care about the external world. It all made sense to me now. So far had I made Margaret travel so that she could reach my heart. I was so externally defined that everything that made me fought everything I was with the fatal courage of fear. Locked in a stasis of ideas, laboring on behalf of my own deception that there might be such a thing as a real world. Surely there are indeed worlds that are necessary, but that will not make them any more true.
Hello my dear reader, my name is Margaret I am and have been your protagonist and the scribe of these pages. May I be allowed a pardon for having digested Omnibeing and found myself in the middle of these pages? Undoubtedly the book is doomed, so is all objectivity, having I now no other point of reference but myself, which was probably true all along, only now it is actually truer. To escape the self is only a torture that makes for good books, sadly for this one, having narrowed all my personalities into an absurd singularity you will now have but me to contend with. Oh but do not despair, there is still the curse that I picked up as a child in Colombia with any luck that ought help us or keep us entertained till the end of the book. And not to leave the jitterbug out of the picture, “Music Maestro!”
Music halts.
Oh the passions and secrets that a woman possesses are so great and enigmatic that even she does not know of them. Hear me out now that I can speak from her heart! Hear me now.
A woman will never be with a man that is less intelligent than she is, since this equals all men a man can only be with a woman if he can fool her. Man looks for a woman that he has a firm grasp of, someone that to great extent he can control and deceive, a woman inversely searches for a man that she can’t figure out and often finds the one that can fool her.
Ha! I am now one of them, possessor of the great energies that harness life.
Grasping hands
We were straining vein blossoming obsidian hands in dimensional sleeps
He recumbent dying
I recumbent consummating desires
Sharing metallic shivering darkness
Slivering atmospheres purging our nostrils
He grieving snail pain
I terminal rapture
Our obsidian blossoming veins sweating antipodean sufferings
Torrents of death
Torturous ecstasy
I never felt him die
I am still grasping his hand…
I am Margaret, I can love another woman. Never shall I dare envision loving the frustrated energies of a man, the angst ridden soul of mortal man is not for my red blistering lips to kiss, I shall seek the loves of women; digging into the emotional torrents of my kind, refreshing within me what feels the feelings that are felt, and is those very feelings. Margaret that is ME. It is so true indeed that none of you will dare scream it not, though you know it all that we have all, from little boy to tall man king, from darling little baby girl to mother wife and dame, that we are all obsessed upon the feminine. All our male or female voyeurism’s are to envy, lust and surmount our feminine essence. Ah hack to death you will the Wicked Queen Witch that enviously poisons beauties, but she is all each and everyone of us sisters; Wicked Queen Witch Syndromes wrestling for the right to hoard the treasure chest of all desire! Man may hoard power and wealth but we hoard all desire. And why we wear makeup if not to deceive each other’s cosmic temperament? Most will think it that it is because we are accentuating lines of beauty or hiding wrinkling or ugliness, or hiding ourselves; but it is none of these I say! We women wear makeup because we see the ghosting world of our inner being, because we are trying to color our soul, it has little of touch with this world, we add lipstick, eyeliner and blush to filter out the ghosting aura. No one else can see it, a woman sees these things she can not say she sees; she can not describe them to herself but with feeling washing tears. Makeup is a physical here and now reaction to our supernatural. YES I am now one my sisters and I will not shame from darting them with my eyes and dining them with my lust; and what none of you are aware of, which now I will willfully practice, is that to be the erotic woman that loves a woman is to be the ultimate feminine. The Wicked Queen Witch was in love with Snow White but could not tell herself this thing. To love a man one has to be a little less woman and more a feminine act. A woman that loves man is partially, oh yes partially a transvestite. A woman that loves a man is, I shall say it, sacrificial! True love and true femininity is lesbian at heart. “Common girls, loser plays the man!”
posted by Ricardo Correa at 8/31/2006 10:34:00 AM
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