Binary Dust: The Story Is Already Done
But what if the story is already done, and the mind always comes late to the scene?
We walk around as if we are in the middle of something beginning, unfolding, becoming.
We say, “My life is happening now.”
Yet the universe quietly laughs through the night sky.
Many of the stars we see are already dead.
Their fire went out a long time ago, but their light is still travelling.
We lie on the ground, look up, and whisper “beautiful,”
not knowing that we are loving an ending that already happened.
Light arrives late.
The star is gone.
The shine remains.
Thought is like that too.
A sensation appears now.
Direct. Raw. Simple.
A sound. A touch. A face. A wave in the heart.
Then, one step behind, the mind arrives and says,
“This is good. This is bad. This is my pain. This is my story.”
By the time the mind describes the moment,
the moment has already moved on.
We live inside this delay.
Inside commentary, not in life itself.
Inside ideas about reality, not in reality.
I called it Binary Dust.
It fits this age.
What used to be “ash to ash, dust to dust” is now data and code.
The body is atoms arranged for a short while.
The personality is memory and habit.
The ego is recorded sentences, replayed until they feel like truth.
Seen from this angle, the whole “me” is a moving pattern.
Not a solid thing, but a sequence, like frames in a film.
Causes and conditions you did not choose created this shape.
Parents, ancestors, culture, trauma, chance, time.
The film is already edited.
You are the scene that is playing now.
If you go far enough back, to what people call the Big Bang or whatever beginning stands behind that, everything here can be seen as a natural consequence.
Galaxies, stars, oceans, cities, families, you.
One long unfolding.
Inside that unfolding, a small pattern of thought appears and says,
“I am the author. I am in charge. I must control this.”
That is where the tension begins.
At first this picture feels harsh.
If the story is already done, what about my freedom, my effort, my dreams?
Am I just a puppet made of dust and habit?
But stay a little longer with it.
Do not rush your reaction.
If the story is already done, then what exactly is there to fear?
You are not an exhausted writer facing a blank page of destiny.
You are a character already inside a book that is printed from first word to last.
The chapter you are reading feels new and risky,
but the book on the Author’s shelf is complete.
You still feel pain.
You still bleed.
You still lose people.
You still love them.
Nothing real is taken away by this view.
What falls away is a certain kind of panic.
The panic that says,
“I must hold the universe together. I must get everything right. I must not break the script.”
The wave does not need to tighten itself to reach the shore.
The shape of the ocean is already carrying it.
When you say, “We do not even exist,”
you are cutting into the illusion of a solid, separate, permanent self.
That part is true enough.
The little owner of life that lives in the head,
the one that says “This is mine, my life, my image, my control,”
is mostly memory, idea, and muscle tension.
It is the tape recorder mind.
It comes late to the scene and then pretends it was always in charge.
That is the Binary Dust self.
Yet something else is here as well.
The fact that experience is happening cannot be denied.
Thoughts are seen.
Fear is felt.
Body is sensed.
Images move across awareness.
What is this that knows?
“silent seeing.”
It is what watches the bear in the jungle of mind,
watches the village with tin walls,
watches the Mauritian woman on the rock,
watches the stars,
watches the entire show of Binary Dust.
It does not push time forward.
It does not pull time back.
It simply knows, without effort.
From the side of the dust, everything is heavy and personal.
From the side of the seeing, everything is light and passing.
The dust says,
“I am in danger. I might fail. I must fight for my place.”
The seeing quietly knows,
“The star has already died. The fear is late.
This is only the light of an old event passing through.”
Then a different kind of freedom appears.
Not the freedom to rewrite the whole universe,
but the freedom to relax into what is already here.
You still choose.
You still act.
But the choosing feels like part of the river, not a battle against it.
Action becomes more like a dance than a war.
You still care.
But the terror softens its grip.
Binary Dust is not an insult to the human.
It is a relief for the human.
It says:
I do not have to be a stone holding up the sky.
I am a brief pattern of light and matter passing through the sky.
For a little while I appear in this exact form.
Then this form dissolves
and the light continues in other forms.
The bear appears in the jungle of the nervous system.
Fear appears.
Courage appears.
Yama appears as death.
Yamantaka appears as the force that eats death.
Birth appears.
Death appears.
Grief, joy, love, failure, success.
They all appear.
All of it is one film, already complete,
shining frame by frame through awareness.
So what to do, if the story is already done
and the mind always comes late to the scene?
You watch.
You feel.
You live your role honestly.
You let the heart beat,
even while you know the heart is temporary dust.
You let the body dance,
even while you know the dancer is a passing pattern.
The old fear whispers,
“What if I fail my life?”
A new sentence rises inside:
There is nothing to fail.
The star has already died,
and still the sky is beautiful.
We are Binary Dust.
And yet, right now, this dust is awake enough to know itself.
That is the quiet miracle.
The story is already done.
For this short while,
let the dust dance.
And then the laugh rose on its own:
“Ah, it was only Binary Dust the whole time.”
Ah, it was only Binary Dust the whole time.
Tell your mind:
Big bear, big bear, what you gonna do?
Cut it off, cut it off,
cut it off, know when to end the loop.
THE BINARY DUST
The only freedom
is freedom from the mind.
The only reform
is reform of the mind.
Story is already done
I am just watching it run
A way to seek the way
Nope nope nope
It does not work
It does not work that way
Beat of the heart in my chest
Dirty dirty
Dark dark
Slap slap slap
Wake from the spell
Spell spell spell
Heaven or hell
Deny deny sense
Step over the fence
Binary dust
God wants a good show
There is no after life
No before life
Only life
Right now
Binary dust
Binary dust
Big bear big bear
What you gonna do
Cut it off cut it off
Know when to end the loop
Freedom from the mind
I feel alive
Love for night
I survive
Shanks in the dark
Legend in my veins
The only one laughing
In the middle of the game
Yamantaka Yamantaka
I will eat you Yama
All drama
Finish it
Lol
Close your eyes
Do not peek
All is done
Nothing to seek
Stop now
Rest now
Same repetition
With no end
Same same Zee
Here comes the entertainment
Binary dust
Binary dust
All drama finished
Only life left to trust
Big bear big bear
What you gonna do
Cut it off cut it off
Know when to end the loop
Freedom from the mind
I feel alive
Love for night
I survive
Zup zep zup
Zeeeeee
Binary dust
Binary dust
All drama finished
Only life left to trust
