All this twaddle, the existence of God, atheism, determinism, liberation, societies, death, etc., are pieces of a chess game called language, and they are amusing only if one does not preoccupy oneself with 'winning or losing this game of chess.' 

A drop of pond water
under the microscope
just like in science class
but now your are the pond
& the microscope is mindfulness

see karma, make dharma

parallel lines meet in eternity but
parallel lives meet for tea

Take karma, make dharma.  

Words cannot proxy for the experience of knowing -- of seeing and hearing.

If you want to enjoy the movie, you should know that it is the combination of film and light and white screen, and that the most important thing is to have a plain, white screen.

The metaphor of movie for life is an interesting one. The frames go by so quickly that we retain the illusion of continuity and are distracted from the light that shines steadily through each frame.

Examining "Who am I" is like beginning to go to the movies just to see
how the movie is made.  As we first sit down in the dark theater we find that we are relating to the objects of the melodrama, the motion on the screen.  We pay attention to the story line, which we notice is like the contents of the mind, allowing it to unfold as it will without judgment or the least interference.  As we focus our attention on the process, we begin to see that frames that constitute film are like separate thoughts; then we begin to recognize the process buy which the images are produced, and it breaks our enthrallment with the story line.  We notice that ll the activity is just a projection on a blank screen.  That all these figures dancing before us are an illusion produced by light passing through various densities onthe film.  We see the film is like our conditioning, a repetitious imprint of images gone by.  We see that the whole melodrama is a passing show of motion and change ... We discover that all we imagined ourselves to be — all our becomiung, our memory, all the contents of mind — is just old film running off.  The projectionist has died.  "Who am I?" can't be answered.  We cannot know the truth.  We can only be it.  Constantly living life in the past tense, rummaging through consciousness to decide who and what we are, the truth is obscured. The truth cannot be discovered in the contents of the mind.  Only the untruth of false identification can be uncovered.  Going beyond the false, the truth is revealed.

Remember love. Remember our hearts are one.  Even when we are fighting with each other, our hearts are beating in unison.  I love you.