Who decides?

If you mean nobody including you, then what does perfection mean to you? If you mean nobody including me, how would you know?

This may become a bit silly too, but there is no way to decide what you claim – neither is it necessary. But as for me, I decide it for myself – and I have that choice. Now, if you know what perfection is, you must be (think about it).

Well, I like chapter 45’s take on perfect: Great perfection seems chipped. Or to paraphrase chapter 2: Thus Perfection and Imperfection produce each other. It is not a matter of “who decides”, it is a matter of what, in one’s life, one needs the word perfection to mean, i.e., as meaning is rooted in the emotion of need (and fear of course).

The only real meaning words have is the emotional chords they strike within us. Words such gain, loss, comfort, fear, need, love, friends, like, hate, work, play, war, peace, justice, freedom, etc., play central roles in reflecting our emotional feeling and leanings. In the end, all words boil down to what in our lives we like and dislike, what attracts us and repels us. Nothing very sophisticated, just your basic animal response playing themselves out in a big ole’ brain which attaches vocalizations (names and words) to ’subconscious’ emotional currents.

I should go easy on words, though. After all, I do appreciate your thoughts and this conversation. It is ironic how intent I am upon whittling down to near irrelevance the very medium I use for communication. Perhaps I’m like a fat person who loves eating chocolate cake and yet realized that eating chocolate cake makes him fat.

Oh well, nobody’s perfect.

Who decides?

If you mean nobody including you, then what does perfection mean to you? If you mean nobody including me, how would you know?

This may become a bit silly too, but there is no way to decide what you claim – neither is it necessary. But as for me, I decide it for myself – and I have that choice. Now, if you know what perfection is, you must be (think about it).

By the way, replying to your latest post, I have to practice mysterious sameness, joyful and without desire. This is just a momentary notice…

Dying to the moment, or dying to your own death, makes time an eternal opportunity to practice mysterious sameness

My post was really about desire, not death per se.

A desire to “get something” has a way of being divisive, i.e., this over that. Choosing this over that requires one to see some difference between ‘this’ and ‘that’. When desire wanes, differences wane as well. What is left too see? ‘Mysterious sameness’.

Mysterious sameness, for me, is an impression. It is something noticed, not something “practiced”. If free will was real one could theoretically “practice” ceasing to desire and thus notice mysterious sameness.

The idea of ceasing to desire is somewhat oxymoronic actually. If I feel desire, I act; if I feel no desire, I don’t act. Ceasing to do something is an action that requires motivation (i.e., a desire not to desire a particular desire).

I know… it gets kind of silly. And yet, still the sage desires not to desire. Oh well, nobody’s perfect.

Naturally though, ‘I’ won’t be here to experience it, and yet…

Neither are you (already / still) here to experience yesterday or tomorrow – these thought constructs point to impossible realities. Therefore you are dead to yesterday and to tomorrow. Death is a way of living. Dying to the moment, or dying to your own death, makes time an eternal opportunity to practice mysterious sameness.