The Imagination Machine
Running since beginning-less time
The imagination machine. We are all part of it, made of it. When looked at directly, with a firm gaze, rigidity arises. When looked at softly, lightly, fluidity arises. When not looked at, it disappears entirely. It and you are one. It never existed.
It’s been said that people generally come to the dhamma through suffering. For me and I suspect many others that’s only partly true. For me there was also a deep desire to see reality as it is. The stick of suffering, the carrot of ultimate reality. The wheel of dhamma keeps turning.
The realization eventually dawns that there is no way reality actually is. This comes to the foreground in the place some call potentiality. Where reality is seen as something incredibly fluid – constructed and deconstructed moment after moment.
There is incredible freedom here. The wild ever morphing creativity of it. Feels like shiva dancing.
Even better — it is seen that reality can be released into entirely. That this body, this mind, their patterns – will rise and fall until they lose cohesion, re-form into other patterns, other bodies, other minds. The imagination machine keeps whirring.
screenshot: Rastal’s regions
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