Art Creates Man

The doer of a Thing, undoes the Thing.

For his presence will create a wide shadow that darkens the room.

The doer destroys art in the womb.

Self-forgetfulness is the greatest of arts.

For where there is a doer, there is a hoper.

Where there is a hoper, there is a manipulator.

Where there is a manipulator, there is the illusion of knowing.

The one who is under the illusion of knowing can create only silhouettes . . .

He can create only the semblance of art . . .

The world of magic and possibility is not available to him.

The intellectual man sees only what common eyes can see.

But what all humans long for . . .

What stops them in their tracks . . .

Is Art rather than intellect.

For Art reaches into a place that they have forever concealed from the outside world.

Art captures the longing for unspeakable things.

Art understands, where the intellect can only explain.

Man’s greatest folly lies in believing that something cannot happen unless he himself does it.

How soon he forgets that the movements of the planets and the stars seek not his permission or his expertise.

How quickly he forgets that his very life lies in the hands of a heart that functions independently of him.

The places where a man’s intellectual currency is accepted are places that reveal not the divine.

They create only a greater longing for it.

Man is a thirsty desert-wanderer who mistakes sand for water.

Thus, his thirst grows greater by the day.

He lives in a world of smoke and mirrors, augmented by sounds and shadows.

He values hard, rather than Soft.

He sees the tree’s bark, but never its Stillness.

He lives for the chase, rather than the Arrival.

He believes in action, more than Sight.

As I have said before, my ways will seem strange to the world.

For what to say of a man who guides individuals toward Oblivion rather than method?

What to say of a man who downplays the intellect, and celebrates intuitive spontaneity?

Is there a method to my madness?

No.

There is only madness.

Madness created by a visceral desire to disappear into the void.

For it is only in this void that true human satisfaction lies.

It is only in this void that one becomes whole without trying to treat his fragmentations.

Knowing where a thing is Not, is far more effective than knowing where it is.

And wherever there are signs of the deliberative intentions of man, there is only pain and illusion.

Where there is a prideful display of man’s fingerprints, there is only limitation and untruth.

Lest one succumb to categorizing himself as spiritual vs non-spiritual, mystical vs pragmatic, he will save himself years on his life by understanding that these are yet another example of an entirely false creation.

For a human is a human is a human.

He is not a human because of his personality, but Despite it.

A human seeks the Nectar of life.

He seeks Magic.

He seeks Freedom.

He seeks all that is pure, true, whole, and satisfying.

Categorizing himself as this or that blinds him to his fundamental nature.

Man seeks the endless horizon of the sea, while standing in the company of buildings.

He seeks the deafening silence of the mountain peak, while standing in the company of streetcars.

He is told to Do

To Think

To Analyze

To Act

To Fix

To Modify

To Accumulate

In doing so, he misses his entire life.

For the secret he does not know is that he pursues the hard, out of a longing for the Soft.

He pursues action, out of a longing for Sight.

He accumulates, out of a longing for Emptiness.

He pursues the intellect, out of a longing for Art.

And he chases self-gratification, out of a longing for Self-Forgetfulness.

Namaste.