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A few glances, haven't read much yet. But the parts I've read are pretty resonating.


a million suns
a million suns
a million suns
Soh Wei Yu
I've read more. Her insight is anatta and her view is non substantialist.
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    • 24m

    • Soh Wei Yu
      I've read more. Her insight is anatta and her view is non substantialist.

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      • 21h

    • Kyoshu Okan Özaydin
      Soh Wei Yu which poem gave you the conviction? Post links to the ones you liked 🙂

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      • 19h

    • Soh Wei Yu
      Almost all of them lol

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    • 46m
      • Soh Wei Yu
        But just to give an example of anatta expression i read a few moments ago (its actually everywhere in her writings):
        your longing to get what is already the case will seem to push it away, as it is not an it, neither are you
        longing for life to look and feel differently hurts
        as it is impossible
        how can the ocean taste its own wetness?
        there is nothing to be remembered and no one to remember....
        this obvious aliveness
        this brilliant immediacy is undeniable, isn't it?
        there appears to be awareness of this aliveness and an awareness of this awareness...
        and there is no separation between these...
        it is the apparent imaginary 'division' created by the objectifying brain that seems to create a thing called awareness and a thing called aliveness...
        but can you isolate one?
        is there ever awareness without perception
        or perception without awareness?
        this aliveness cannot be caught
        of held
        it is a treasure that seems to self arise
        and simultaneously self erase
        no past nor future nor 'now' can be found,
        nor can a looker be isolated from this streaming perceptual sensorial display....
        you know this magic, and the magic of it is that it is
        and there is no separate thing
        no hand
        no heart
        no mind
        that can hold it or know it in the conventional sense
        yet it is always sensed
        and there is no path or method to discover that which already is
        as the path, the method, the looking, is already this magic of aliveness self arising and self erasing....

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        • 36m

      • Soh Wei Yu
        and you feel your hand your heart reaching out
        trying to catch the rippling
        but all you can see is rainbows flowing through your fingers
        you are the walls you seek to escape or break down...
        they seem to be solid and keep out the light...
        but it is belief in the dream which creates this illusion of separation, of an inside and an outside, here and there
        imprisonment and freedom...
        and someone to be free or bound
        some how this belief which is the cornerstone of who you are melts away, the wall of belief is punctured, all encompassing brilliance dissolves all and everything, yet all and everything and you remain.... all is transparent wonder
        you are dissolved yet dancing...
        there are no things nor non things nor both
        nor neither
        no mind, no non mind
        no one to have a mind
        or not
        weightless sky endless blue endless grey clouds
        rainbows appear and dissolve colors spill into your mind stream ...they never left
        river of thought has no beginning nor end no banks of time
        nor background of space
        daffodils swoon under the weight of moonlight stars seem fixed until they make you dizzy the world spins
        or is it you
        swirling into starlight?
        a life time of chasing your tale
        no beginning or end can be found to this seamless aliveness spinning may reveal an empty center to the jewel that you are infinite facets blend into a surround sound of echoes reverberating ancient songs
        that were never sung
        yet the words and melodies are felt deeply as they line your edgeless heart where clouds and starlight and endless skies bloom
        and wilt
        looking for a lasting presence
        a fixed point on the horizon that will pin you to the story is like a pin in your heart
        a bitter death to flight
        morning dove floats to the frozen ground
        I heard her singing as dawn streamed into the garden grey cat sleuths across the frost
        flying up
        magnificent feathered display
        and you long to drown in this beauty and dissolve into light
        but you were never separate from love you cannot find it or lose it
        there is no you who is love
        nor love to merge with
        it is all love

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        • 35m

      • Soh Wei Yu
        there is no love
        river of love needs its banks to flow
        we stand on opposite sides
        and dance in the current as we dissolve into each other never separate
        never joined
        we need this river of reflections
        to glimpse our own beauty
        and drown in our own love
        you are a persona
        an imaginary persona
        like me, the character that you are seems to arise in the company of apparent others.
        we are the shared dream of separation, and as we do not exist alone, other personas are like our mirrors...
        as we do not exist, we cannot find anything when we look inside. in a way we are each others reflections.
        when a loved one dies, we will never see ourselves through their eyes again. that mirror has broken, and the shards rip through our hearts as we have lost a part of ourselves. gone forever.
        enlightenment is not an escape from the dream.
        knowing you and I and love are imaginary is not the end of love, it is the beginning of an all encompassing love, of realizing that all of us know somewhere down deep that we are utterly empty and exist only as each other's echoes, and that we do not exist alone,
        that we all long to touch, knowing that we can never know what life looks or feels like for another.
        we are all utterly alone. yet everyone shares this broken hearted beauty, everyone is utterly innocent, simply isolated swirling galaxies of thought, of liquid memory....insubstantial, ephemeral, beautiful dreamt personas....
        love is the part of the dream that makes up for the total aloneness we all share. we are alone, together.
        thought weaves a web that has no solidity nor liquidity... it is composed of not even nothing... less substantial than cloud castles dissolving.... nothing can be caught with thought, thought is more like a razor slicing up the perceptual symphony into things and an observer.... but there is no thing called perception or awareness without thought... no thing called thought...
        without thought...
        you are flowing fleeting description... memory, a story without a source or story teller....
        you are an echo of your own aloneness....

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        • 34m

      • Soh Wei Yu
        I have people plead with me to give them one crumb of advice that will let them reach this promised land... but it is only empty promises that they have heard, there is no promised land of enlightenment and no one to reach it..... no one has this sublime emptiness and no one can give it away...
        utter emptiness is already the case.... it is the looking for it which seems to deny it.... looking for enlightenment.... looking for any idea requires a belief in it... and enlightenment is a belief, like emptiness, like other better more and next....
        so how can you find that which is already on?
        wouldn't looking for it be it
        or running away?
        how could it be confirmed or denied, accepted or rejected...
        the confirmation or rejection or acceptance... all what seems to appear... there is no getting out of this streaming dream of separation...
        there is certainly no outside or edge to what seems to appear... and isn't the recognition of this seamless symphony of sensorial display inseparable from it? never one without an other...
        wouldn't you say that life seems to appear all by itself without effort or non effort?
        the feelings of effort and ease both arise effortlessly...
        all arises and self erases evenly and equally and there are no separate actual things in this stream of perceptual input....
        it is thought which seems to divide the unknowable ungraspable no thingness into separate things and events....
        and this is something you can never see, as you are one of these imaginary separate things, like enlightenment...
        I am a dream spell of liquid memory
        slipping sliding falling through itself
        endless stories spiraling....
        no end or beginning in sight
        a fluid portrait of all the stories, all the images all whom I have met there are no separate stories...
        that I am a fairytale dream girl is a story
        as are these very lines trippling through your mind stream which really isn't yours, as you exist only in the thought
        you think of as yours
        all thought is learned shared words
        weaving and unravelling without any actual substance sky soars through sky
        light pours through light...
        life swoons into itself
        through your arms your eyes your lips this very kiss this obvious aliveness
        immediate and clear
        without other
        without before or after ungraspable....
        wondrous beyond measure
        not even a this
        as there is no that...

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        • 32m

      • Soh Wei Yu
        what is darkness?
        what is light?
        what is this warmth inside my chest?
        rivers of songs
        pour onto this screen
        fingertips flow softly over this keyboard painting light and dark and colors streaming through this thought dream
        wings of memory
        tides of images
        feathers drift softly
        settling into this book of poems that writes me
        as I continually slide off the pages
        that were never bound
        or held
        or separate
        from the story they tell
        there is no heart nor hand nor mind that can contain this love this unbearably wondrous symphony that seems to play itself and hear itself
        and leaves not a drop of sound
        not even silence
        in its wake
        no one paints these infinite watercolor skies or this moon that seems to hover suspended
        falling through its own embrace
        the horizon never reached
        unties itself
        and the present is revealed
        to be nothing other than what it always was a dream of infinite wonder dreaming itself

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        • 32m

      • Soh Wei Yu
        slow waltz of wind and trees and sky cannot be gathered in your hands or heart as you are inseparable from this wonderland ballet this ocean of echoes this arabesque of reflections twirling infinite colors into a hush without silence or stillness or movement or an actual song that can be understood or known or heard or
        not heard....
        this symphony of wonder may seem to have separate instruments, sound touch taste sight, and someone who sees and hears and loves….
        but no watcher or player or conductor can ever be found,
        nor a stage or dance floor across which life waltzes...
        infinite galaxies spin only in this fairy tale of thought that seems to spiral endlessly as no beginning or end can be found.... or lost,
        you are part of the enchantment
        this wonderland thought paints with no background or foreground,
        all is sky written in sky
        wind painted with wind
        vast measureless spaciousness without space...
        and what could possibly divide you from all this when there is no this to divide?

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        • 17m

      • Soh Wei Yu
        when imaginary separation is believed, it feels like there is a thinker of thought, a feeler of feeling, and a someone who is doing life and to whom life happens….
        thought seems to divide the perceptual stream into separate things and events, and imaginary connections are drawn in-between these imaginary things and events
        time and cause and effect are created,
        and a someone who is traversing a razor’s edge tight rope, a time line, between birth and death, afraid to fall off
        and terrified to reach the end
        this thought stream paints a world, and a you in the center of it
        this is the end of the belief and the feeling of separation
        awakening unties all these imaginary lines
        all edges and the imaginary center are just
        it never was!
        it is obvious that life seems to self arise and simultaneously self erase, and never actually is a substantial (nor non substantial) ‘thing’,
        this is the astonishment that there are no things nor non things, no time, dimension, direction, movement or non movement, change or permanency
        that there is no one separate from this imaginary world who can believe it or not, or claim it or not,
        as all we, as imaginary characters, can know is this imaginary world
        we are the dream of separation
        it is obvious that the dream of separation is indeed made up, but it is not known how this is known, and this is the most delicious unknowing
        enlightenment is a fatal collision between never and forever
        the kiss and final annihilation of reality and unreality
        emptiness and fullness
        movement and stillness
        everything and nothing
        of you and me and love…
        the utter insubstantiality of thought
        of rainbows
        of clouds of skies of mountains….
        all ideas of solidity and certitude vanish
        this is the complete obliteration of all beliefs and ideas of what you are and what you are not
        what the world is and what it is not
        and what love is and what it is not…
        this is the end of all thoughts that he or she or me or the world ‘should’ be like this or that
        this is the end of all hope and fear and need of a never arising next
        the end of all questions about all things imaginary
        …and all things are imaginary
        and me
        and even love
        yet these songs are love songs truly
        cascades of words
        rivers of tears of smiles of ancient seas pouring through me and painting
        wet with wetness
        wind with wind
        sky with sky
        love with love
        this is about the beauty of the dancing flames
        as the world burns
        and what is gained and what is lost when there are no things to be added or taken away,
        and no source or answer to this love song?
        a whirlwind of ancient shadows streaming through the darkness…
        a waterfall of starlight pouring through light
        a spinning arabesque without a point to enter or leave this endless circle
        spiraling into infinity
        outwards and inwards…
        when there is no outside or in
        no center or edge to this enchantment
        that seems to drink me
        and leaves me
        pools of streetlights
        passersby talking on their phones
        there is only one side to the conversation
        but there are no sides to this reflection
        no home where echoes reside
        no one inside this mirage
        bathing in the waters
        no one listening to this love song
        feeling her heart soar
        in love as love through love
        life sings
        we meet in this fatal kiss
        of everything and nothing
        and we find ourselves dancing on the edge of a feather
        between love and nothing at all
        and I was lost forever as emptiness and found again in the storybook of love...

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        • 9m

      • Soh Wei Yu
        without thought there is no water or wetness or you or me or love.
        without thought there are no things or non things, period,
        ....not even a thing called thought.
        this obvious vibrant aliveness self arises and simultaneously self erases without ever becoming any thing actual and substantial or solid or fixed.
        you cannot even call this aliveness liquid as that would require edges and things that move....
        as there are no things there is no movement nor non movement...
        there is no outside to this obvious elusive aliveness, so there is no inside...
        there is never anything other
        so there is no this...
        infinite sky, infinite space….
        without sky
        without space
        what is without lines or space or emptiness….
        it is this thought dream that paints your unique universe with galaxies
        and a you in the center, the hero or heroine of this passion play of wonder…
        when the dream is believed, it feels like there is a thinker, a someone who feels, a bather in moonlight dreaming….
        the mystery of love
        the mystery of mystery...
        thought spins a web of imaginary knowing
        that never caught anything
        not even itself

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        • 3m

      • Soh Wei Yu
        this obvious aliveness
        this symphony of perception
        this sensorial display and its inseparable recognition
        self arises and self erases
        there is no pause when the swing reaches is zenith
        a place where you could fall off
        or take off and soar…
        yet there is soaring always
        through this dreamscape of space and time
        as you are this water ballet of wonder
        breath of wind is your breath
        wings of sunlight is your winged beauty
        dancing with your reflection on shimmering mountain streams
        listening to your voice resounding in deep echoed valleys
        soaring over mountains and valleys
        across hot desert wastelands
        glancing down and seeing that it is all a mirage
        flowing into and through itself
        wetness into wetness
        you are an intoxication
        drinking deeply this bottomless cup of wonderment
        as it drinks you
        I look around and I have no clue as to what I am walking on, walking from, walking towards, or what I am looking at.
        there is no sense that there is a separate someone walking or looking, nor that there are a bunch of things interconnected or joined.
        it feels like a seamless symphony, and not of any thing or things,
        not even a symphony of emptiness...
        simply a wondrous aliveness streaming and simultaneously disappearing without ever actually crystallizing into a thing or things,
        nor even nothing at all….
        in this fatal embrace of everything and nothing
        all things never were
        no time nor space
        nor clouds racing across endless blue
        dolphins jumping and playing and dissolving into sky…
        nor this stunning silence of boundless ocean
        love beyond any ideas of love
        has swallowed the world of things
        and is intoxicated by her own demise
        she sings without words or music
        is all music
        this shock of unbridled aliveness
        flows into and through itself
        without movement or non movement
        love pours into love
        this cannot be found
        it is not lost
        for it is not separate from the stream of life as it appears
        looking for it seems to solidify the dream of things
        as well as trying to not look for it
        for there is no it
        nor you to get it.
        words can make you dizzy
        spin you around and spit you out..
        were you ever?
        are you now?
        where are the dolphin clouds
        playing in yesterday’s skies?

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      • 3m
        • Soh Wei Yu
          falling off the edge of words
          falling through the skin of sound
          a dream dreaming a dream... shared learned thought is the I-cloud…
          the shared learned thought, the thought stream is the 'god stream'
          the thought steam names itself...
          self arising and simultaneously self releasing....
          just like this
          people tell me to look deeper to find my true self, or the god within, and get angry when I say I cannot find anyone to look.... and no within or without….
          seeing through the dream of separation is knowing there are no separate emotions, or car jams or lovers
          to dance
          and fall in love
          yet, here were are laughing and weeping
          and falling….
          painted and dissolved in the water color dreamscape of love
          weight-less is
          the stuff of dreams
          moonlight hovers on the other side of the horizon
          for the sea to fall into its beautiful empty arms
          naked wild love
          is this constant union of what was never apart
          this kiss of no tomorrow
          of nothing and everything
          of never and forever
          the tsunami crashes through its own wetness…
          atemporal seamless beauty
          in the empty dream of time and space
          there are no footsteps to trace…
          no wings to hold the sky
          there are no wind swept beaches to wander
          no one looking for sunset to pour light and color into her reflection
          waiting for the vastness of ocean songs to consume her nakedness
          and plunge her heart into unfathomable depths
          where sorrow and joy
          she was an echo of of ancient sea dreams
          the ache for another day

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        • 1m
          • Soh Wei Yu
            mirage of empty shadows and light spins
            dreams unfold their wings and beat your heart
            a love song erupts that can never fill the vacancy in your chest
            this all encompassing emptiness is you
            it is only in the heartbeat of this and that
            that we seem to emerge
            neither empty nor full nor in between
            heartbreakingly beautiful
            we are this lover’s dance of everything and nothing at all
            love is the echo of our shared aloneness
            I was the looking for a core, an essential element, a true nature of this obvious aliveness…..
            finding only this obvious aliveness, not separate from anyone looking!
            I was the unravelling of all and everything, of time and space,
            of the nothingness in-between the betweens….
            infinitely intimate this sweet and terrible embrace, this hush obliterating all sound and silence
            yet echoing in the depths of my edgeless heart
            as love ripped even this dream song with shreds of mirroring sky
            words fell out of the corners of my eyes
            and spilled across the vastness
            tears are reflections of
            the fullness and emptiness of love
            exquisite how this life this love caresses me from the inside and out
            love consumes all sides
            and ravishes herself
            warm and wonderful is the tender beauty of whatever you think you are
            pouring through oceans of time
            long stretches of sand and the lapping waves of midnight
            swirl through your ancient footsteps
            starlight pools in your tear filled eyes
            pulls you into endless sky
            drinks the silence that obliterates your longing for heaven
            there is no one behind the horizon
            dancing a ballet of light and dark
            no one who sees starlight hovering in front of the sun
            no one who aches for this longing that I am
            this beautiful meandering love song
            this longing
            for just
            what a beautiful crazy world of broken hearts
            longing to be mended
            who could ever hold all this love?

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            • 1m

          • Soh Wei Yu
            I could never ever ever have believed or imagined that all of life, just as it seems to appear, is truly wondrous beyond measure and simply the treasure, the magic, the love I had been seeking.
            all words are defined by other words, all ideas reference other ideas, and seem to create a seamless solid universe, but there is a big gaping hole in the center and the outline is a whirling burnt stick, or thought, that leaves no trail or echo
            sky songs bleed into sky
            words anoint the day
            spiraling the hush of night
            into star shadows
            this is pure intensity, not of a thing, or absence of things…
            an ecstasy of unassailable unknowing
            liquid prism of light
            flows through the colors it paints
            and I am softly

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