Perhaps that which strikes a monkey the most about a bannana is it's color. Such a hue vibrates at infinite levels, triggering the urge for consumtion. Oscillating from light waves, refracted into focus through it's eyeball, projected upon millions of living cells organically encoding the image into electric pulses on contact, flowing through the nervous system to the monkey's brain, where it is parsed to be percieved as a sensuous field reflecting upon his consicousness, finally striking the awarness from which his very existance arises. Though... at what stage is the color conditioned?

The level that conditions the form's perception must be key to the bannana's aesthetic.

The most beautiful forms are nothing more than utterly functional... formless in an abscence of substance conditioning the form outside of a grasping perception, arising from a smooth series of consciously directed natural reactions. Anything we could produce is no more than a stiff conditioned attempt to capture what which would naturally appear if we were otherwise watching the sunset rather than mucking about with conditioned forms.

The way emerges in the abscence of thought. Like a natural reflection of the same strand which conditions our very perception. So may the point of these pointless words point up towards the uncontained in which you are effortlessly suspended.

Which is to expose the pale reflection of the imagery projecting through what you conventionally call yourself, actually no more than a fluxuating illusion, sqeezing itself through this form, as a snake attempting to slither up a pipe only as thick as itself, unrealizing that the pipe is nothing but his perception, and his effort has no climax. If only this hypothetical snake would relax so deeply, natural forces would release him.

Stuck, in the patterns of our mind's mind's mind, reflecting here so blatantly, it's exposed as if we were standing before the world naked- though this is the way that we have been conditioned to communicate through this medium. A conditioning pattern conditioning a conditioned conditioning pattern, patterning our minds, which through copious volumes of childhood effort, prevented us from turning our unconditioned perception upon the formless forms of unconditioned perception itself.

Now it's just hollow words reflecting within themselves in conditioned patterns, about to trigger a listing of the words that these words are ignorantly referring to in their vague assumtions possibly confusing us into further shadows of ignorance, as we perpetually participate in repeating forms such as: condition, reflection, pattern, patterned reflection, conditioned pattern reflection.

Whatever it is that they mean.

May we all follow the spiralling lead of effortlessness, to purge these unconsciously reflecting linguistic patterns, to still our minds into silence to observe the original awareness reflecting upon itself.

We're found formlessly projecting through the tools of our creation, continually operating upon the conditions of the trunk on which they balance, their images arising nowhere but in our waving minds, flickering before some infinite awareness.

This is like a leaf conjuring up all it's energy to whisper to the next leaf how they're both part of the same branch, and trunk, rooted together in even higher systems, whispering how it's tired of trying to catch the wind all day. It's final effort before returning to the uncarved formlessness of it's being.

It may appear that we actually choose to create form, though we choose no more than water chooses to reflect light waves. The universe is precisely as it should be, as no choice of our own.

The mind perceives it's transcending awareness, thought is ceased; then, only one path clearly presents itself as the Way.