Doesn’t matter if you’re done, faking it, or you’ve given up–this book, The Triune Self, Confessions of a Ruthless Seer, by Mike Singer, is worth a read. Worth reinvesting any time you’d be spending doing anything else. It is a joy and a thump-to-the-chest kind of read.
Perhaps you might, out of habit, respond–“There’s nobody out there,” or “I already get that,” or some such equivocation like, “Another spiritual book? Really?” Yes, really. Something about these words truly pierces to the heart of the matter, and I mean that almost literally. There’s something about Mike…
Such a totally and unflinchingly honest and earnest reflection. It might bring joy, or it might scare the ever-livin’ spiritual pants off of you. Perhaps a more suitable subtitle would be, “The Reluctant Sage,” though my guess is Mr. Snider might quibble with the “sage” handle.
Here are a few quotes, though I hesitate to parse it out ineptly, when the whole speaks for itself:
On life:
“I find the whole of it is benevolent imagination any way you cut it, no matter how crooked it appears.”
On effort, non-effort, pointing:
“It means nothing to those who have their most essential nature pointed out to them if they haven’t struggled for its recognition.”
On self:
“He seems to be more interested in his objectified universe than he is in the mysterious wonder that registers it.”
On the spiritual marketplace:
“All the theatrical drama that enshrouds this obvious and simple Truth we all are, pissed me off when I finally came to See.”
The Kindle version is available here. I cannot remember the last time I bought a book, or even how I landed on this listing, but for whatever reason, I downloaded the sample and when it ended, I just wanted to keep reading. And though I don’t seem to have much spare change these days, if there was an audio version, I’d probably buy that as well, just to hear Mr. Snyder sing it. It’s what we’re here for.
The wonder is that each loop tends to mistakenly believe in its own isolated identity. The interior of the loop becomes crowded with 
Loops, by the very nature of the line, can and do change all the time. One loop (within the continuous line) can look look, at any given time–when a belief, opinion, or perspective is changed, or it just changes shape, or loses volume:
You are not that loop. Nor are you defined by the 
or 
contained within the loop, that only seem to define you.
Seekers seeking peace. The very act of looking for it is to step away from it, like a paper doll cut out of the paper, that then tries to find itself, and its source.
The Deepest Peace 