Did we just evolve this incessant need to create meaning because we are more wise or less wise than the trees? This awareness…is it foolishness or egoism itself bursting from the world? Or is it an evolution of great beauty and wonder?

Did this inherent humanity emerge from something in the cosmos begging for an answer and are we then committed to wander aimlessly for the rest of our existence in wonder without it?

There are times when my thinking seems so clear and far reaching that it is as if I am pulling from some collective conciousness that has always known these things. As if everything already exists and we are just blind to everything that is happening. But then why? Of course it seems as if if everything were revealed…motion would stop. If all were complete…all would be complete. And thus existence, life and the spinning of the world relies on the mystery itself. And yet this why persists.

It seems as if presence does not even exist. The past is real and solid…the presence is shifting and in motion…and the future never exists at all. And yet in some way…God IS presence. I will never stop being here and I will never escape my own presence. And existence itself is this presence of reality. And that is somehow God and yet it is so intangible and just beyond my reach and never quite anything but the senses that are flying through my body. We are just sensations and we are hungry for them. Something in the world wanted to feel…and so consciousness was born. Awareness wrapped its scaly head around the base of a tree and, struggling for breath, burst open the folds of feeling…casting truth out and resolving itself to wander about on legs made of ivy and wonder. I know nothing about anything. Is that just a way to brace myself for being wrong about everything? Perhaps. 

The opposite of love is not hate, but fear. And fear, oftentimes too, is a secret sly friend that perches on your shoulder at just the right moment.

Nothing is quite solid. We are all brain thought matter force and it doesn’t seem to be important whether the mind is coming from the brain or the brain is producing the mind because it is all still THERE. And the concept that tiny neurons could create THIS reality that I experience IS magic itself. They speak in chemicals and they transmit information not with words but with electric currents…THAT in itself is BEAUTIFUL magic. So if THAT is the truth then we are beautiful beings. And if the truth is that mind itself is coming from some abstract force field that is then documented in the brain like a journal…then THAT too is beautiful magic. Nothing can shed the beauty of this reality. Illusion or reality it does not matter…the fact that we can BELIEVE that it is real…that we can find some resolve to believing our lives to exist…that is God in itself. God is just my word for everything inexplicable…OR explicable. There is no way you can explain this universe that ISN’T beautiful. AND it is only beautiful because I am a human with judgment and feeling and a meaning making center…and that in itself is gorgeous. So yes. Yes. I choose to be human everyday and it is the most powerful thing I can ever know.

The mystery is worth the wonder.

Well, at least for me.

Truth doesn’t really matter for a being such as us. We are not concerned with such things. We are concerned with the way that wind FEELS. So give me wonder or give me truth. I’m still living in wonder.

The curves of the shape of creation are sensuous enough to make me yearn for them with my whole body.

We are always going to hurt each other. Love in its very essence is an act of pain. There is something lost in giving and something disappointed in the acceptance of our own loneliness…for our relationships with others in some way assure ourselves of our own separateness. The other that is always the other that we reach out and claw at…straws upon straws we grasp…trying always to find that wholeness again and at the same time giving up our own illusions of wholeness that we cling to as ourselves. Our pain is our inability to accept pain. To accept pain would be to transform it…to breed new wonders and in some way…give up that part of ourself which grounds us to this earth. Pain drops us in…joy lifts us up…and we can stand somewhere in the middle. Although, I doubt very much that they are opposites…I think rather they are forces of creation that move us…neither is the wrong way…and all are guided by love. 

There is a deep sorrow at the heart of the world. And that deep sorrow breeds deep joys…they move together in harmony and the pain we feel as humans is the inability to have these two walk together.  

Subjective human experience is pure art. 


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