Leftovers
What can anyone hold onto, but a collection of imaginary notions,
Created by the frame of reference, founded upon one’s conditioning?
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What universe do you perceive, but the one you project,
Through the frame of reference, you imagine yourself to be.
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Nobody can ever know what you have gone through, what you have experienced,
What you have perceived, what you have endured, in your trail of agony and ecstasy.
Nor can you more than guess at any other’s version of their world, their universe.
We are all as alone together, as ships passing in some nebulous moonlit night,
Only as known as any given insight, any frame of reference, might allow.
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Each of us with our own unique universe; each of us with our own unique world view.
Each of us with our own unique set, our own unique frame of reference, that we all deem normal.
Each of us perceiving through the untold filters of our time-bound nature-nurture matrix.
Each of us forever here now, forever absolute, forever indivisible, forever alone.
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The only difference between any you and me, is a seemingly different eye,
Wired into a different central processing unit, programed with a different frame of reference,
Wandering different matrices born of imagination: all alone, together.
We call it life, existence, but what is it, really?
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To what are you ultimately attached, but the conditioning,
Of a mind each and every moment consuming, translating, a sensory feed,
Through the filters of a time-bound frame of reference, inspired by the given nature-nurture.
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What you discern, what you glean, from your world, from your universe,
Is but a reflection of the frame of reference, the filter, doing the translating.
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The filters of any given monkey-mind, in its imperfect frame of reference, are all about measuring,
Estimating, summarizing, evaluating, calculating, labeling, stereotyping, judging.
But it is the choices made in action and deed, that sculpt the day.
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You have never seen your own face, you have never seen your own body.
How could your frame of reference, ever be the same as anyone else’s?
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Your illusory cosmos is your teacher; it is your frame of reference.
It is an interminable streaming of faces and places and every variety of form.
It is all the creatures from small to large; it is galaxies beyond what any eye can see.
It is words and numbers and sounds and symbols, and whatever else consciousness colludes.
It is the imaginary mind, it is the imaginary you, it is the imaginary not you.
And through it all, the ubiquitous awareness, You truly are.
Ever the ever-present, solitary witness.
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You peruse these many thoughts,
But how you translate them,
Is entirely based on the frame of reference,
Through which your time-bound mortal dream timelessly filters.
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Everyone and everything in your entire existence, from the first breath to the last;
Be they family, friends, acquaintances, adversaries, or strangers;
Be it Star Wars Legos or a Lamborghini;
Is a footnote in your ever-expanding frame of reference.
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The personal mind, the quantum mind, the cosmic mind, the eternal mind, the no-mind,
Are all the same ephemeral awareness, the same witness, the same Youness.
Really nothing more than alternating frames of consciousness,
Filtering as the whimsical moment inclines.
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Point of reference, frame of reference, box of reference, matrix of reference, hologram of reference.
From small to large, each and every mind fabricates a unique rendering of a universe,
All ultimately nothing more than the endless spinnings of imagination.
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Observe the mind and its many thoughts.
What are they but a muddle of conditioned patterning,
Established upon whatever perceptions, whatever frame of reference,
Imagination has arbitrarily devised, in the winds of the given nature-nurture dreamtime.
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No matter the speculation, no matter the assertion, it always ends up being the same inexplicable mystery.
So, what is the point of endlessly arguing, much less slaying others, who will never see it the same.
Discern the tranquility of an agnostic framelessness of mind, and render that your harbor.
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What is any worldview, any frame of reference, any paradigm,
But an imaginary state, to which the mind every moment clings.
* * * *
What can any human being, no matter the time, no matter the geography, ever really experience,
But their own unique egocentric-ethnocentric-geocentric-heliocentric sensory universe?
That which is perceived through their unique nature-nurture frame of reference.
Every part and particle of it, born entirely of subjective, self-absorbed, imaginary notion.
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Everything you experience every moment;
Everything you see, you hear, you smell, you touch, you taste,
Augments the frame of reference, from which this mystery is eternally witnessed.
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A frame of reference is an ever-expanding rolodex of any given universe,
From which insight freely draws, whenever the busy-busy mind,
Wanders into contemplation of any rhyme and reason.
* * * *
Are you required to contemplate the world, to reflect upon the human paradigm?
Or is it merely the repetitive groove, the arduous furrow, of an educated, cultivated,
Indoctrinated, habituated, programmed, conditioned, brainwashed, frame of reference?
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Most human beings are absurdly happy, absurdly content,
With their given conditioning, their given frame of reference, their given idolatry.
To be a seer, critical thinking is required – and doubt, disbelief, skepticism, cynicism, are rare attributes.
No point in trying to debate, to persuade, to convert, any true believer.
All must ultimately discern truth alone, in their own way.
In other words, mind your own awareness.
Soundbites
All operate in one frame of reference or another.
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What is a frame of reference but any given life’s statistical sample.
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Arguing over which imaginary conceptual framework is better, how pointless is that?
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Who-what-where-when-why-how are you, but an imaginary, conditioned frame of reference.
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What is your frame of reference but the universe in which you abide.
Breadcrumbs
Is the scribe madder than any hatter,
Or is your frame of reference,
Your statistical sample,
Just too small?
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Just pointing out what seem obvious to this frame of reference.
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Mixin’ and matchin’ from ye old frame of reference.
A wild and wanton maelstrom, from which these many ditties,
Bubble into beingness, in the double-double-toil-and-trouble of it all.
* * * *
I am every filter the capacities and limitations of this mind will allow into its frame of reference.
Philosopher, scientist, historian, anthropologist, psychologist, sociologist,
Politician, warrior, and on and on the list daily grows.
* * * *
‘Tis the un-followers who I quest,
The ones who are able to endure alone,
And discern things clearly with their own eye.
Our frames of reference may well be universes apart,
But we will ever fathom truth enough the same, to be at peace.
* * * *
The reality is, any given reader may or may not, comprehend these thoughts as they were meant.
The reflections offered are ever subject to the frame of reference of the observer.
No thinker, no philosopher, can ever presume his or her views,
Will not be used for unintended purpose.
* * * *
It took a fair amount of time, in earth years, to figure out my calling in this mortal play.
Which, of course, afforded a much-enhanced frame of reference (a.k.a., more writing material),
From which to lucidly and insightfully articulate the revelation of this eye, to an all but empty auditorium.