Eggo rolls around. In his egg. Fear, his translucent shell. "It's just me. Rolling around." Strange things permeate his crust. They frighten him. Never lets on mind. "Meaningless!" He exclaims. Even though he woke up, jumping out of his bed bathed in terror, in a cold sweat, panting... His whole life his own thoughts. Eggo didn't fall into the pond. He shrivelled up and died next to it.

Dreams are just the contents of the day! And mind is matter. So you say.   At which solid, inner theatre have you seen them play?   The stage? The writers? The director? The clay?!   It’s simple, lazy logic to say, Dreams are just the contents of the day.

It’s so hot in Kyoto; we can’t leave our house and explore much and the house isn’t even that cool...   One meets one’s, When one, Lowers ones.                    This koan encompasses oneself and the numerical one.

I know, Even if he doesn't, That we are.

Tight and formal this dance we do. Full of good intentions; Me and you. Socialised in fear of being true. Full of good intentions; Me and...

A 79yr old man asked me this question last year. He's someone I respect a lot. In my opinion (and I've told him this!), he lives out his...

Symbols (dream images or unconscious contents) have been recognised from antiquity to the present day and they guide us more than we...

When something clicks while interpreting dreams, the dreamer feels a shift, the moment is pregnant with meaning and importance, awe is...

Pavlov’s Therapists in Gurdjieff’s Prison     “ If you wish to escape from prison, the first thing you must realise is that you are in...