Or as once said by a sage (those supposedly knowing):

"Why do we have to be old to know we know nothing?" How a mortal faces the infinite with a positive attitude of shedding emotional baggage or what. What is thoughtful baggage ... negative and thus subtle humour to assist in keeping people in the not-knowing state?

Such things are unseen in an emotional state ... you don't believe such essences? Perhaps you haven't looked around at the state we're in ... except for a small bunch ... it is depressing but yet many argue we shouldn't complain for the other! Screw them is the word of the religious, pious and stoic rush to success ... that appears humourus to those beyond it. We are the Luçe-Urs ... an expression perhaps you'll have difficulty with as it was imagined right out of my irrational abstract (that which is incomplete) and so it goes as zoan or goan in other tongues ... things we must account for as unknown to us!

We are sometimes called out of it like the definition of myth (that from beyond) and many people that believe their I's are real (I's real?) do not understand misuse of disambiguity and multiple redaction as they never looked at the evolution of word. Do you ever ponder the context of that contrast from either side of the thin red line ... as the ridges are drawn to succubus right in ...

Alas we were directed not to understand these things by religious forces ... they said the common folk shouldn't know this stuff ... or we could be undermined ... and thus the subtlety of high rose gamma ... a lower flowering of catatonic emotions with Q'loos ... what Christ called a Sue'Eire when crappy thoughts are planted incognito ... these things a grave-ID, sometimes referred to as fecund as derived from fey kynd ... a wild cow of a thing as defined classically as UR! Big's UR? It is a meri thing that does as the winds blow ... and well whetted it calls men down toit! a filmy bit of ß'lakean humis ... dark cover? such is hidden for the unconscious mind to pick up on while on the way thro' ... th' roué's of life as a place for those to learn that didn't know in the 1st place ... some return as a refreshing intercourse in cosmological scro'ups (reciprocal ET'ihcs) about reflecting on what you came herefore ...

Comprenez? Gnoe! Perhaps you may require redemnption ... a sort of recycle function ... Og ode not again ...

aka The "Ruby Yacht". 

"Come fill the cup, and in the fire of spring,'

your winter garment of repentance fling."

Well not so fast!

It's still winter...no garment-flinging! You'll catch your death. (Only members of the Tombstone Club will think that's funny).

Hope it don't offend.

Omar wrote in medieval Persian. Difficult to translate. I have the translation by Edward Fitzgerald.

The translation of mystical poetry depends very much on whether one has a contemplative or mystical mind, and the nature of one's own mystical experiences. A non-mystic would translate mystical poetry differently from a mystic, and a more prosaic person would translate differently than a poetic one.

Once one has experienced the splendour of total at-one-ment and limitless creativeness, how can one express it? One can only express it by whatever means one has at hand, or in one's mind, but no expression will suffice.

"Ich kann ja nichts sagen, mein Herz ist zu voll,

Ich weiss nicht wie ich's in Reime zwingen soll."

(I can't say anything, my heart is too full,

I don't know how to force it into rhyme)

said the Austrian poet Wilhelm Müller

Hi ninja:

Midwinter can be spring, as another mystical poet tells us:

Midwinter spring is its own season

Sempiturnal though sodden towards sundown.

Suspended in time, between pole and tropic.

When the short day is brightened, with frost and fire,

The brief sun flames the ice, on pond and ditches,

In windless cold that is the heart's heat,

Reflecting in a watery mirror

A glare that is blindness in the early afternoon.

A glow more intense than blaze of branch, or brazier,

Stirs the dumb spirit: no wind, but pentecostal fire

In the dark time of the year. Between melting and freezing

The soul's sap quivers. There is no earth smell

Or smell of living thing. This is the spring time

But not in time's covenant. Now the hedgerow

Is blanched for an hour with transitory blossom

Of snow, a bloom more sudden

Than that of summer, neither budding nor fading,

Not in the scheme of generation.

Where is the summer, the unimaginable

Zero summer?

-From LITTLE GIDDING by T.S. Eliot

Then there are those Nordics that get overheated and dash outside into the snow ... be the death of me or is that the Tomestone Club ... a bloody hard book to read into if it is mystical?

Mystical is too close to thought and you know what the Romantics believe of thinkers ...

Then there are those of us beyond that ... interstitial mediums ... that are stuck in a hard place ... like Buddha taking a dukkha'n. The who today in the avoidance of difficult and strange words know what a dukkha is?

Could it be close to a ducky; disambiguous and amphibious bur-hawk, a real sticker once the claws are out?

Where is the summer, the unimaginable Zero summer?

IT is right here, right now. IT is the non-dualistic reality. All we need to do to experience IT is to suspend conceptualisation, And, bingo, there IT is!

Poem IHC ole humanity is odd ... isolated from everything by the pain of life!

It is said in one tradition to be the isle of pathos ... but then one would have to shift all your previous misunderstanding about what pathos is, or isn't ... perhaps not!

Just conceptualize this as your psyche speaking ... that is part and parcel of the human psyce ... a self committed condition of being a pain in the Golden Ass ... that which is out there ... thus creating a definite form of indeterminate ... an undefined and complex mind! Perhaps it is just imaginary ...

This of course depends on perspective of where you're at and where you've come from and presently that is lost ... as something of the past the church authority tells common folk they shouldn't know as blame for pain could shift ... and we couldn't have change and evolution of conception beyond fixed!

Could we?

No wonder smple church views get blown chaotically out of proportion ... and people follow this blindly ...

Also this ensured the human condition isn't a sure thing ... and irratically defined John Wilson as indeterminate ...

Is it thus impossible to be aware of the human condition? That shoots ego in the foot as one definition that defines ego as awareness that is unaware due to the cloud of surrounding emotion and why god saw Christ when the clouds parted ...

Makes for a huge myth for those losy in spatial circumstances of what Dante called the mind ... and few can gather from that undis ambiguity that is pluralized to death!