A Hole as an Enlightened (or Free) Entity

A mirror

A hole, such as a tube, is an enlightened (or free) entity. It is the intersection of life and matter (in every conceivable sense of that phrase), and an open door to truth and beauty in the mind and body.

But what is enlightenment? 

I will consider myself. As an enlightened being, I can only see, say, make, hear, or feel a rigid (or finitely repetitive) binary. The physical world and body are rigidly structured with rigid repetition and “dualism”. (Yes, I’ll admit experimental contemporary physics, as I can touch my skin, or atoms, and sense its validity.) But I can think in nonbinary (or non-dual) terms: That is to say, I can think of a context (or symmetry) behind any context, indefinitely. A block of concrete can not do that.

What this means is that I have consciously achieved binary free will, though the body (particularly the senses: eyes, mouth, ears, and skin) and the reality it sees lacks it. This is why conscious self-awareness is ALWAYS on. Consciousness is infinite and practically boundless in capacity!

I understand physical or rigid binary knowledge (i.e.: finite repetition) and can educate a rigid binary (i.e.: a rock) by it. (Understanding and educating a rock is akin to becoming a rock completely, though this process cannot be willfully planned.) But a rigid binary mind is incapable of educating a nonbinary mind (in the total sense of the phrase,) because it lacks the free will of infinite binary thinking. 

(I can not comprehend and become another person physically, yet I understand due to my consciousness that we’re all interconnected consciously and affecting each other in profound ways physically!) 

The person with enlightenment then is connected to a higher controlling force. What is the force? 

It’s not clear, but it is a powerful, self-perpetuating force. A mind (or concrete block) that possesses a full free will would be able to practically explode itself (through intentional thought), and then piece itself back together. Or die effectively, but then bring itself back to life. 

Personally, I imagine my “death” will not end the higher controlling force acting on me consciously. 

It will only paralyze my rigid binary body as I know it. But what, then, will happen after death? To answer this, you must question the nature of infinite binaries. 

Binary systems are the basic building blocks of life and the universe as we understand it today. Binary, symmetrical, and self-generating systems underpin all human domains of knowledge, including physics, biology, and computer science. 

Math (as in theoretical physics: a tool more suited to the subconscious mind than the physical) is a tool that we “invented” to idealize these systems. However, mathematics generally lacks practical use in the real world due to the concept of zero and infinity. (For example, in mathematics you can never have the shortest line. If such a line exists, presumably you could always divide it by two.)

(I comprehend the world mathematically, but physically my body recognizes its flaws within the physical reality.) 

Nevertheless, the tool has allowed us to visualize complex symmetries and patterns like the Mandelbrot Set. In physics, we can “predict” real life phenomena, though we still have gaps in knowledge! 

This is problematic (but not immediately paradoxical!) and only hints that physical truth can be understood ultimately. Such is the result of our reflexive tendency to think in rigid binaries. 

The rule of infinitely dynamic binary consciousness is that there’s always a context hidden behind any assumed context (i.e.: No walls or obstacles.)

However, modern science assumes an objective origin (an origin doesn’t exist in the subconscious mind, thus why imposing an origin in the physical results in a rigid binary.) 

The effect of this visual necessity is profound and obvious. It is because of origins that there’s always a “false” beginning. 

Why is there always a background, but no apparent front in space? (Or vice-versa?) Also, we have false-beginnings like rigid frames of reference and theories for how or when the first human beings began to form. Or how the universe began. 

This is all well and fine: The absence of answers so far is not due to lack of effort, but to limited resonance (as a result of a lack of free will.)

Rigid binary thinking isn’t trivial by any means. It defines how we interact with space. For example: You could not position all your furniture in the center of the room. 

A person might do so, but it would simply prove to be a practical and psychological dilemma. The furniture would feel unstable and impractical, like it was floating in your room. It would also be a physical obstacle in your way. All doors within an enclosure will swing and swivel in one direction for the same reason. 

But in the subconscious mind, the ability to comprehend self-generation begs an answer to the question: What is art without an artist? 

This is the reason we accept time (past, present, and future) in the physical world, but consciousness alone can not process time (though it can with reasonable accuracy comprehend time through the senses, such as resonance from external visual signals.)

Subconsciously, in order to understand infinite duality, you must think of a hole. A hole is truly the deepest (infinite), emptiest (no language), and most important (self-aware) thing perhaps anybody can think of, in every sense of that phrase. 

Why? 

Because a hole is defined by “What It Is not.” 

This suggests that to think of a hole, a through hole, is to reflexively think of the biggest hole possible. At least in binary systems. So, a hole is a self-processing object.

It also means that even subconsciousness without connection to the eye or body can (unintentionally) see (or really become) just a hole. Also, a hole can be a physical entity, hence amplifying the connection between mind and body.

If a hole is then thought of as a “solution”, and it’s opposite as the external hole around it, then its beauty becomes obvious and clear: A self-perpetuating lifeform is simultaneously the most elegant problem and solution (because a fractal has always been nature’s measure of beauty.)

Isn’t it so? 

A hole is an objective entity that loses no meaning in an infinite number of contexts, consciously and physically. Think about biological holes, or your holes: your nose, your mouth and anus, and your reproductive organs. 

A nose is the shell that covers your nostrils. Biologically, a nose allows us to breathe in and out oxygen and keep living. (Think of the blood and blood vessels…!) Psychologically, a nose seems problematic, presumably because it hides (read: reveals) the solution to self-knowledge and truth: a hole. The mouth and anus? It is where we can take in food and produce energy and waste (and reproduce.) And then ponder reproductive organs… 

But think about placement, too. What is the significance of the placement of these holes? 

A nose is at the center of resonance on the face (a binary object.) It’s the center of attention when you look at yourself in the mirror (and hence, along with the curious pair of eyes, necessarily defines your self-image). The digestive tract effectively divides the body in two vertical halves (reflectional symmetry). The reproductive organs sit in the center of the frame lengthwise (visual and practical symmetry). 

To ponder their placement (and oneself as a whole) fittingly emphasizes a rigid framework of deep and resonant (aesthetic) meaning and order. (All of this beauty is mirrored by the gaping hole between your two legs…)

But while a hole can be exciting, a hole is also inherently unstable, funny (but oddly), and repulsive. 

Holes are provocative in nature. Animals that resemble holes are naturally venomous and associated with evil. Think of a black mamba, or a python!  (A snake can attempt to eat itself...) 

Physical objects in real life that are holey are often the topic of philosophical debate and curiosity. Is a glass half empty (ha-ha!) or half full? (It is perpetually overflowing and emptying…!) 

But more perplexing is the physical pipe: What is a pipe? How do you orient a pipe in a physical three dimensional space? Where is the start and end of the pipe? This is an interesting puzzle if you draw a pipe on two-dimensional paper and try to replicate it in physical space with a manual machine. 

(I’ve bent a pipe on a pipe bender at my workplace, and I can not deny that it is a counterintuitive exercise! The linkage and interplay between the two are symmetrically rigid. It is the reason puzzle games like the maze have a well-defined start and end: It adds structure and purpose to an otherwise confusing and paradoxical exercise.)

Evidently, yet paradoxically, a hole is at once two distinct yet similar entities: It is the inextricable duality of the physical world and the subconscious mind. 

It implies the profound coexistence of freedom (in the mind) and stillness (in the physical space.) It implies parallel conflict and harmony, and the inability for neither consciousness nor the physical reality to truly transcend over the other. 

This connection can only be undone through death (i.e.: loss of oxygen and or blood), allowing for the possibility of partial clarity through ensuing feelings of absence and reflection. 

As it turns out, a hole (a fully binary entity with consciousness) necessitates a plug (a rigid physical entity.) A plug is equal and opposite to the hole (but both can never be completely equal.) Inversely, a mind can operate in both light and dark, but a physical body must be fully observed only by light (primarily through the eye.)

So: What happens when we die? Or, in other words, can a living human being die completely? 

To answer this, we must first contextualize the question. It is akin to asking: “Can a hole fill itself?” Or more concretely, can a solution turn itself into a problem?” The answer to the latter question is clear: Since a problem often requires more information than a solution, this is improbable and can only happen through the agency of an external force. 

The mental and free world demands a controlling force (unlike the physical world, which lacks free will.) Therefore, we must ask instead: Can a subconscious being truly cease to exist without the cessation of the external force (predetermined to be of infinite magnitude?)

The answer is: NO. 

A person can not die both consciously and physically (due to the higher controlling force), and he can only die physically. What is the  meaning of this? 

It suggests reincarnation (or, rebirth as imagined in spiritualism.) It would seem, then, that there exist parallel, perpendicular, and oblique infinite binary mental worlds akin to all shapes man is able to identify with subconsciously through a fractional framework.

An enlightened person (ALL men) will enter a fractional mental framework which suits (makes sense) to them and only them. 

This is an immediate necessity because infinite self-similarity implies complex structure, flow, and organization. The critical significance then is that this framework implies infinite possibilities for reincarnation, each reasonantly attuned to a particular “individual”. 

Language (or a physical entity) can describe the physical universe fully. But it can not capture the total binary nature of human subconsciousness. Language implies that it is a purely resonant interplay between all physical forces. (This is because language is a product of our senses, or the interplay between physical matter.) 

No one is intentionally persuasive. Due to the resonance and harmony of binary systems, language might at times come off as persuasive and rhetorical (stable and controllable), but other times, decisively not.

Whether language strikes as persuasive or not isn’t up to a person. It is ultimately up to the universe (which lacks free will) and its resonance with the physical person (also which lacks free will). 

Thinking about a hole (a reflexive entity transcending language, light, or information) brightly illuminates and reveals more about their complete nature universally.

As Nietzsche observed (albeit with caution): “If you gaze for long into an abyss, the abyss also gazes into you.” But accepting beginnings implies also that two entities may only look at each other in opposition. Thus, information will always distort based on perception and perspective. In other words, absolute knowledge will always prove self-contradictory in the ultimate sense (i.e.: empty.)

Windblown - A short story

A windblown tree

I

Bob lay within a hammock grinning. It was a striped blue and orange hammock and hung in the middle of tall palm trees on the beach. A cool breeze roused the blinding white sand under the hammock and fanned quietly over his ears.

Whoosh…Whoosh…Whoosh…

Noting his shadow below, he guessed it was noon and checked his iPhone to see. But as his eyes were tired from gazing at the sand, he only noticed the message from his girlfriend, Maria. It read:

“Meet at the hill. Poetry and windmills!”

Bob cheered, but he quickly regretted it. His dark shades felt uncomfortable against his eyes, and he had to remove them. He flung the pair into the air without looking.

He barely began to nap when a sound panicked him:

“You have a jet of air in your ears.”

Sitting upright, Bob studied Suzan, the generous lady who had procured the hammock. She had been absorbing The Alchemist in her Adirondack chair nearby. It was a fun time reading the whimsical masterpiece. But now she decided to rest and walk around.

“You can stir up the air like a bird!” 

        “Did you know that?”

Bob listened in hushed silence: Could he really bend the air? He lowered himself into the sand cautiously. On the one hand, he had fantasized about bending the air in front of his girlfriend, Maria. He believed in supernatural powers, but Maria thought him a fraud because he rarely practiced.

But on the other hand, what did Suzan know? He had only met her today and had dismissed all her contributions to conversation. Bob sensed her cheerful openness, though he disagreed with her personal criticism. He wondered how he had channeled his powers, and he hesitated. 

“There’s a stream of air running through your ears,” Suzan went on.

“What do you mean?” Bob could not hear her voice as he scanned the beach impatiently. 

It was a breathtaking view. On his right stood a lovely cove, which was cool and rocky. What a beauty! Bob thought admiringly. Beyond the water, a small hill jutted into the empty air overlooking the beach. He began to scan the hill and the pine tree that sat on top, and he noticed Maria’s white beach umbrella. He was eager to discuss air bending amidst her open curiosity.

II

When Bob finally reached the top of the hill, his body was exhausted and drenched in sweat. He did not want Maria to see him like this. But here he was. 

“Hello!” Bob greeted her sheepishly.

Startled, Maria stood up and rushed to Bob. But before she greeted him back, she asked:

“What happened? You’re quite late!”

Bob stared at her in silence.

“Look, no problem,” Maria explained before insisting:

“I crocheted a blanket for both of us and my books. Sit down by the pine tree if you wish.” 

“It looks pretty,” Bob said admiringly.

Just then, Maria held up a stack of papers and a pen in her right hand and said:

“Sit down, Bob. I want to read you a poem.”

Bob cheered as he sat down under a shady umbrella next to her. But he could not explain his strange feelings. Something special hung in the air, but he did not know what it was. Was it that he’d never seen Maria sitting alone outside? Had she become unbothered and carefree? He glimpsed her bright eyes and sensed determination.

“I don’t understand, Maria. Why didn’t you ask me to come sooner?”

“Why…? Because I’ve been here all alone?” She retorted with hesitation.

Bob did not like where the conversation was heading. He sensed that Maria could snap in front of him like she tended to do. Her eyes were beginning to lose their bright glow. He had to broach another topic.

“It’s fine, Maria. Did you carry all your stuff in this?” Bob inquired as he pointed his right index finger at the treasure chest lying on the grass.

“Yes! Look at all the books I have…,” she said, releasing the two straps that held the treasure chest closed. She pulled out The Alchemist and explained:

“I read this. It’s quiet up here.”

“It’s OK. You don’t need to explain,” Bob maintained in his calm and collected tone.

He had remembered Maria’s text message. What did she really mean by poetry and windmills? He had to know.

“What did you mean by poetry and windmills?”

“Have you had a chance to settle yet?” Maria answered with a question, and added:

“Just look straight ahead.”

Bob was indeed tense and unrelaxed. It was because of his awkward position next to Maria. He’d been sitting across from her on the pine tree, but he faced away from her. His head pointed straight down into the slope of the hill. His mind absorbed the vegetation there. 

On the foot of that side of the hill, a lush forest spread into the horizon. That is what Bob looked at. He did not have a reason for that because he did not pay attention to anything. But as he opened his eyes fully, he noticed the faint outline of a windmill on the horizon. He was surprised that he had noticed the sight.

“I can see it now!” Bob exclaimed. “What a beautiful sight!”

“I knew you’d love to see that,” Maria spoke with a proud grin on her face.

Bob loved the windmill. As he examined the gentle movement of the blades, he recalled his desire to float in the air, and his failure before at air bending.

III

Many nights in his sleep, he’d dreamt flying in the air like a bird. He believed that he could achieve his dreams. He just wasn’t sure if he could do it himself. He needed direction.

“Do you want to hear the poem?” Maria persisted, sensing his inner beatdown.

“Yes, please!”

“I wrote the poem here and it’s titled Original,” Maria clarified, as if she were afraid of Bob’s judgment.

“That’s perfectly fine!” Bob assured her.

Maria opened her treasure chest and retrieved a sheet of paper with her right hand. She began to utter these lines:

“You can name, label, and describe space.
You can say space has pretty brown eyes, or
A je ne sais quoi. But once you define space,
How did you know that you know space?
”

As Bob listened, he felt a deep connection to Maria. What moved him was Maria's hypnotic voice which soothed his eardrum. He shut his eyes, but Maria paused her poem.

“Bob!” She yelped.

He opened his eyes without moving his head. He expected to hear Maria’s poem soon.

“Don’t turn your head! Only look on the side.”

Bob turned his eyes, and a strange sight greeted him. Maria’s long hair danced playfully on her round face. He still could not believe his eyes:

“Gosh! You’re windblown!”

“Yes! The air is coming from your right ear. There’s a jet of air passing through it!”

“I see and feel nothing,” Bob said impatiently.

“Hold there!” Maria instructed as she stood off her blanket. She then held his right hand and placed it over his ear.

“And now?” 

“Nothing,” Bob answered with disappointment.

“Hold your hand over the ear and don’t move. We’ll try again with the poem,” Maria improvised quickly.

She picked up her poem and continued to read as naturally as she was reading before:

“You can name, label, and describe thinking.
You can say thinking is an original essay, painting,
Or idea. But once you know thinking,
What is original thinking?

You can name, label, and describe a movie or a book-
”

Suddenly, Bob’s mouth gaped wide. He’d sensed something. He was certain that he felt a jet of air push against his palm. His head was so calm and peaceful, as if the external world had vanished, leaving only a reflection of his inner thoughts. He turned his eyes toward Maria, and he saw a clear line of air extending from his head to hers. Her hair danced and rustled freely in the cool breeze.

A moment later, he was up in the air.

“I’m floating!” Bob chanted in utter surprise, his eyes tearing up.

“Yes, indeed, Bob!”     

“You are!” Maria remarked, frankly.

He was now floating three feet in the air next to her.

       Bob had learned to soar into the air. Up in the air, he could feel the smallest particle of air. Though he had the weight of a feather, he was nimble like a bird reaching for the clouds.

He saw that afternoon for what it was. He did not need to dismiss it as a miracle. It was just a moment that he had not anticipated. Instead, it was the events that led up to that day that puzzled him. Had he not been attentive to space? That was his reason for loving the hammock and the cool feeling of levitating in air.

***

Consciousness Is - a poem

Plants in green grass

Consciousness is-

A self-molding mold.

A mold molding a mold,

Molding a mold endlessly.

These are the sides of a mold:

Now, up, down, left, right, time, space, 

Matter, man, language, identity, 

Society, color, sound, feel,

The past and the future.

Consciousness is-

A self-shaping shape.

A shape shaping a shape, shaping

A shape, endlessly.

Consciousness is-

A self-labeling label.

A label labeling a label, labeling

A label, endlessly.

Before you make a label,

The label has already made you.

Each new label may be a scratchy signal 

Of the original. But to know yourself,

Is to know the essence of the original label.

Words, Words, Words - a poem

A fountain pen on paper

May thinking be anything in particular?

Or is it something that evades language and the senses?

Curiously, thinking isn’t something that you label either,

Because once you label something, it changes

Your perception and attitude to it too.

So, I ask, is it even possible to know thinking without knowing it?

Happy and sad in a vacuum?

Definitely, thinking can’t be about language or words,

Because words like happy, love, success, and sad 

Aren’t absolute, certainly not up to the dictionary to define for you.

You see, happy isn’t getting a salary every two weeks,

And love marrying your sweetheart in your twenties.

Success isn't getting your dream job after college

Or sad losing that job, although they can mean those things

too.

So, I ask again, what is thinking?

Can thinking be thinking, if thinking can’t be anything in particular?

Original - a poem

A fountain pen on paper

You can name, label, and describe me.

You can say I have pretty brown eyes, or

A je ne sais quoi. But once you define me,

How did you know that you know me?

You can name, label, and describe language.

You can say a word can persuade and appeal to pathos.

Or that language is math, chemistry, biology, and physics.

But once you ignore all the other languages,

What do you have left?

You can name, label, and describe thinking.

You can say thinking is an original essay, painting, 

Or idea. But once you know thinking, 

What is original thinking?

You can name, label, and describe a movie or a book.

You can choose to make a sequel to the work.

But once you plagiarize a story, you

Also desecrate the original.

Because, how can the original still stand?

Original is the absence of a copy,

It is the entire world for you.

Truth - a poem

A fountain pen on paper

Truth isn’t something that you pursue,

Because what is pursuit without effort?

Truth isn’t something you explain and debate either,

Because what is acceptance without closure?

Truth isn’t something that’s shown to you either,

Because that would be indoctrination.

Truth doesn’t make you feel happier either

Because what is happiness without reflection?

Truth isn’t better than you or incomprehensible either.

Because it’s equal to you and meets you where you are.

It neither excites you, nor improves you.

Truth isn’t a poem, a book, a song, or a movie that you see and admire,

Because what is admiration without envy?

Truth isn’t something that you smell, hear, see, or kiss with your filthy skin.

Because how can order exist in the middle of chaos?

Truth isn’t something you’re fully conscious of,

Because how can a flawed person know the full truth?

Truth isn’t being enlightened or spiritual either,

Because what is enlightenment without regret?

Instead truth is something that transcends language and humanity,

An idea that comes instantly to you and shapes you forever.