Benjamin Smythe takes a spiritual look at attraction…
I touch a nipple or a gold doorknob with my fingertip. This does not create a new phenomenon, but rather takes an existing phenomenon and shapes it into fingertip touching nipple or doorknob. When I remove my finger, there is no change to the absolute inevitability of phenomenon. Whatever is occurring is a single occurrence no matter how it appears.
I cannot do anything to spoil the universe.
Territory violations are wrong in that they are an inconvenience. That’s all. There is no lifeguard watching over the gene pool. The only thing that can blow a whistle is alive somewhere on this island.
You are both the unlimited potential for form and the limited formed potential. This is the end of the search.
Enlightenment is not about agreeing to terms. It is about understanding the underlying relationships between things are constructed out of a thingless potentiality and this MUST BE that.
I can only fuck myself. There is no other option. Whether I want to or not is the only rule and there is no choice in that matter. I can’t decide I want to fuck someone I don’t want to fuck. This being said, I am attracted to most people I see. I have yet to understand how this could ever be a crime against anyone.
Joining terminology clubs is not the same as understanding your inherent nature. This is not warning against anything. It is simply a fact. If the truth had anything to do with a particular language, well…you know that’s just plain silly. That’d be like saying water and agua tastes different in the same glass. Whatever you are drinking from the faucet, I am got some over here, too. Doesn’t matter what language you speak. Of course you don’t know what this says if you don’t speak English. Oh well.
The “teacher” and the “student” are the heads and tails of the same coin.
Imagine communicating to everyone on the island at the same time. What is the one thing everyone would understand one person to be talking about, no matter what language they spoke?
Despite all efforts towards the contrary, you are the answer without question. You are the source of life and death expressing as a living and dying formation. You are a turkey baster in your ass full of your next meal. The circle you must be is so round, it rolled a way.
What I see when I look at others is skin. That’s what I see. I see skin arranged around a snake bed of thoughts. Sometimes I want to touch that skin. Sometimes I don’t. It isn’t about whatever is talking. That has very little to do with attraction. Attraction is not to an idea. It is to a sensation. That sensation is not “out there”. Sex is the wrong idea when considering attraction. Sex is the biological handoff of genetic material for making another human. It is sperm meets egg cargo dump. Pleasure is independent of penis and vagina. Those organs are the same thing. Picture: skin-multicolored water weenie.
The distinction of gender: what a man/woman is: has nothing to do with anatomy. It is a social function: picture: shaming any animal on the island for the way it non-violently looks and talks. Shame is the only irrational emotion there is. The chemical energy of fear-anger-kindness that fuels us is not universally guilty of anything, no matter past performance of material. The actual material is forgiven the instant contact is severed.
If I am not touching you or talking to you and you cannot see me anywhere around you, we can’t hurt/help each other at all. I can think of you and use the picture I have from memory, if I know what you look like, to comfort me. However, I can’t know if you exist when I do this, since I can’t see you.
Protecting yourself makes absolute sense. No one has a fucking clue what they are doing.
Sharing is a private exchange between living things. If you are beaten into sharing, it’s not sharing. It’s being looted.
Fear-Anger-Calm-Love is the runaway train car.
Shaming another creature for what it is doing = the fearful of power.
Love: liking things as they are without needing them to be otherways.
Each woman is one-of-a-kind, like each man is one-of-a-kind…no matter the species. None of the gender expectations of any mutation on the island apply to any of the other mutations. Attraction is a yes or a no for all living creatures. It is never personal to any mutation whatsoever. You cannot reject me. It’s impossible. I am already here.
Saying yes and no to requests is not inherently emotional.
No one actually owns the material that is the universe. It’s just lying all over the place. Ponder: no one owns the big gas islands out past the dry dusty ones, or the dry dusty ones for that matter. Each thing is just where it is at any given instant. The rest is respecting territorial claims, or not.
Sex has very little to do with joy. Joy is the allowance of happiness, no matter what.
What hurts to let go of is the lie you can’t wait to stop believing, namely, “I am not the truth.” The reason it hurts is because there is nothing left to do that is required.
Face it. You are home base no matter how many places you try to hide. You may not feel it. You may not feel you are touching the entirety of phenomenon as this simple, aging beast. To feel it, reach down and, like the other buddha, just tap out.
The potentiality of the universe is unchanging and motionless , expressing as the appearance of changing and moving formations. What this means is next time you buy produce, you check yourself for ripeness. It doesn’t mean much and it feels funny.
The right and wrong clubs are not as important as the delight in no longer searching for the truth you must be, expressible or not.
To know that knowledge is unlimited in potential and limited in form ends the search. If I try to understand this with a like-me filter, it is confusing. However, if I feel it with me-fucked gut, it is clear as a bell. I don’t know so much.
I cannot express absolute knowledge as a limited form. I can only understand the kind of limitation I am is the calling card of the unlimited.
Reading this is neither random accident nor inevitable destiny. It is simply an appearance of the never-appeared.
Destiny implies movement.
The reason the Buddha didn’t speak of source or ultimate self or choice or life after death was not because he couldn’t but because he knew if he could relax your breathing enough, you’d just see it on your own: there is nothing else you could be.
I wouldn’t worry too much about silence or meditation or states of mind. These are secondary expressions of a primary, uncompromising potentiality, which, no matter what, you MUST BE. If you want to really know this without a doubt, try not to touch anything at all with any part of the formation you feel you are. The impossibility of this can reveal rather quickly all formations and phenomena in the universe are seamlessly connected. The body touches the bed touches the floor touches the ground touches the space touches the stars touches all formations everywhere made of potential.
I cannot argue with you when my logic system is open rather than closed. It’s just upleft impassible.
“Sense” and “nonsense” is rooted in a core processor for sentence-picture construction. There is a causal mechanism stringing the letters together. It is a little like a brain-sized tornado stringing together movie theaters.
Thinking in both-and is a lot like being in two places at once, except there are even more places.
Both-and does not allow for the logic-feeling result of separation. That can only occur in either-or.
Both potential for form and form, you are touching me now, no matter the appearance of “the distance between us”. I am not you in any way other than we share the same potential to BE. I couldn’t make you understand this if I tried to. It’s a lottery…knowledge.
We cannot connect. That would imply we were somehow disconnected. This is impossible. Skin contact between us may happen or not. Our inhales and exhales are billows, pumping the air of the world through this wind-up, talking meat machine. It is slowly unwinding, of course, like peeling a balloon.
There is nothing gained or lost in the eye-gazing and no-face play within the spiritual circus. It is simply another card in the deck. The king of spades is made of the same card stock the two of hearts is. The image is printed on the potential for it to appear. This is all one must understand about consciousness: formations and appearances do not alter their potential. You are both the perception and the source of the perceived, whether you are sitting in a satsang, racing a stock car race or serving up a nasty spelling bee sting.
The truth has little to do with Benjamin Smythe in the same way the ink has anything to do with the paper it is printed on. Don’t mind the noise. This whole place is under construction.
Choicelessness is the relative salve applied to absolute burning to BE.
In the spiritual circus, taking the symbol, “”, seriously is the cause of confusion. There is one breath falling through endless instruments. There is no difference between I and “I”; none.
We are attraction. It is the single option. This doesn’t mean attraction is always towards.
Attraction is 14.5 billion years old. Originating nowhere and encapsulating all that could be, we are the single common ancestor, endlessly splitting into natural variety, a single mutating domino on an island-sized treadmill. Mutation after mutation of all possible forms on all possible islands in the infinite sea of space is as we as the space is. We fuck us and us alone. There is no other choice. We’re all there is.
We have never once kissed lips that did not come from what we are made of.
Light fucks light, no matter which pitch of dark it is wearing.
Violence or no violence, touching is unstoppable. Empathy evolves the recognition of non-central status.
All pronouns are punch lines; I, she, he, it, we, they, us…these are placeholders for a single explosive o-face!
Both real and not real, we dance along the spine of us, dressed in royal drag.
Natural variety fucks natural variety. What can be done? Nature’s a shameless lover bathed in the perfume of sexy.
When naked check out the belly button and ponder this: “How far back did that rope reach?”
One egg added to one sperm = one-of-a-fuckingkind.
Innie’s and outie’s are the “Hey There!” store front of the double-sided meat-mall a human mutation is. The back door is the end of the front door. This mouth-asshole tunnel could be called a masshole. Mass is what falls in and mass is what falls out. Solid, liquid or gas, the masshole unites all so-called “genders” in an undeniable inevitability.
A date is a story about talking and touching an animal.
We play safe because we might want to fuck all of us. It’s a no-brainer, really. Why disease each other when we have the option not to?
Separate identity is an amnesiatic slumber the universe wakes up from right now. I am the only thing around to fuck, fight, feed, flee, and friend.
The root of worry is the fear of being alone.
No one else to fuck, I am the one endless wank of unstoppable change.
I can worry you won’t like me, but that’s a little like worrying that I’ll have to hang out with who I was with right before you showed up.
Get the joke of fearing rejection. This is not about being fucked by a man, a woman, or both. It is about being the only kind of fucked there is.
Seeking iRecognition is living in a perpetual state of iFear. All of the animals are orphans in the face of death.
Confusion yearns to come. Clarity is ceaseless coming. Sex? Who cares! I am shameless orgasm no matter which position I am in.
Natural Liberation = no one is ever going to remember what happened.
If you want pleasure freedom, forget about friction fucking. Just see what happens if you don’t lick-stick things in holes and touch the skin. The sensation of mine is the same as the sensation of yours.
One gamer playing /watching two kinds of attraction games: mono-gaming and poly-gaming. That’s you. Whether you think you are a man or a woman, your anatomy is what it is. It is not a license you had to apply for. You are an impersonal fabrication of genetic ooze. I can take no credit for anything I appear to be. It was not a choice in any way to exist. You’ll be attracted to me or not. That’s just the way the wheel spins.
There are three crucial commands in every attraction game: No, Yes, and Let’s See What Happens If.
Monogamers and polygamers use these commands in the game of touching. The range of expression within each game is of such vast variety, the only way to learn is to play. Not playing is, of course, full use of No.
Respecting each other is about having the patience it takes to endure the joke of separation.
Shaming yourself for preferring one game over another is how you sap all your strength and ruin the orgasm you are. Don’t worry about preferring playing or watching or who cares about the humans. The universe is not a contest anyone can win or lose. There is no scorekeeper.
Happy fucking, miraculous Fucked One!