TO BE NOT PEDANTIC

To not stay alive is beautiful but pedantic—to write only for another is beautiful but pedantic—to pretend that we know what going is or stopping is is beautiful but pedantic—to pretend we are able to commit to anything but pure love open intelligence is beautiful but pedantic.

Do not look out for the angelicist clones of stopping. However they come, they come within their own context. The embodiment of victorious clones neither comes nor goes. They know nothing of stopping except what you know.

When I write these words I think only of my Teacher’s realistic fascination. When I read the heart transmission the contrived do not read, I see how I have yet to and do not need to approach my Lama’s heart. Those who have always gathered around and read that heart—in present, past, and future—are only my perfect pattern. I am not an object to be perceived.

To claim one is fascinated without the realism of pure intelligence is beautiful but pedantic—to claim I know how to give you anything at all is beautiful but pedantic—to need to know anything more about the other than this is beautiful but pedantic—to claim that deep insight or ignorance are the primary is beautiful but pedantic—to claim I am able to stop by either writing the stop or physically enacting it is beautiful but pedantic.

Open secrets perfecting themselves and then fading is beautiful but pedantic, since no such fading exists when trust again and again is the ordinary miracle of pure open intelligence. The open secrets themselves are a beneficial display and are free of characterization. Here love that is not pedantic is abiding and open secrets perfecting one another within the expanse of pure intelligence uphold all—and without conventional descriptions.