Of Gods who would be men
May. 16th, 2021 01:28 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
joegodaWell now, that was quite the introduction, hey? Let us on, then.
This 'remembering' that our friend, the man... Er, let's call him something else. Give him a name. I mean, after all, everything has one, even if it's just 'that thing'. It's an identifier. It's a locator. It's what your mom used in full length when you knew you were in trouble, even if you didn't do anything, really, at all.
Let us call him Glenn. With double Ns. Double Ns just add to the mystery, don't you think? Really, we could call him by my name, but that would just be silly and clumsy and I would never know who I was talking about anyway. So we'll call him Glenn. It's a good name. Not as good as yours, perhaps, but then, if it were, we'd be talking about someone entirely different.
So, to begin again. On this particular Sunday, at 6:42 am precisely, or at least as precise as atomic decay can be, and bless it's little heart as it surely does try doesn't it? At 6:42 precisely, Glenn remembered EveryTHING. Great flashes of awareness and awesomeness flared to life as the answers to... well... everything flooded his great brainy brain. He felt that who he was and what he was became stretched so thin that he, the he-ness of himself, disappeared into the all that was existence. For that moment, that flaring and painful and somehow joyous and ecstatic years long moment, he was everywhere. He was everything. He was Nothing. Nothing was beyond his knowledge as there were no past, no future, no life, no knowledge. It was all part and parcel of the incredible, unloving and unlovable persistently present now.
Now, there may be some 'debate' about the use of the word 'unlovable'. Again, don't care. I'm a sheet of paper here. HOWEVER, if you choose to love objects that have no true existence, then who is anyone to judge, unless of course, they are a judge, and then it's pretty obvious. Loving a rock? Okay... but don't expect it to love you back. Love the taste of pizza? Purely a chemical reaction to another chemical reaction. Love the air around you? You better! If it wasn't around you, you'd be dead, right?
But to love a universal state of is-ness seems that it would be incredibly hard since it requires a leap of faith and a jump to the left. To love the Now is to love forever and away and never to stop because there really really, and truly true is nothing else in the universe but the Now.
As a human being, it's very hard to love the now, especially when that splatter of bacon grease flies up and gets your cheek. It's insanely hard with the now contains the very moment when you see a loved one breathe their last breath. It is beyond reason to expect one to love the now when a baby, not barely old enough to ... or anyone, actually, because everyone is somebody's baby... when a baby is murdered, killed, snuffed out, removed from your particular now forever and ever again, amen.
If one human being has ever, ever, ever, reached that point of loving the persistently eternal now, then I put forth that the one who is doing the loving is no longer exactly a human being. They have reached a point of something moreness that can only be attainable by leaving that 'human' thing behind, at least part way. It requires a sacrifice of ego. A sacrifice of self. The release of the Id from all the Idcentric obligations.
In short, you either start out being not 'exactly" human or somehow it finds you in a moment of weakness or a moment of strength when your mind is distracted by incredible amazement or by mountainous sorrow or unbearable pain, and you become transformed beyond what is 'exactly' human into the something moreness of realizing how small and yet how large you are. How small and how large we all are. And in that bubble of realization we, you, usn's, expand to be beyond the all, beyond the veil, beyond the beyond and see all of it for what it is and in that moment... in that incredible moment,
We laugh.
And not just one of those knowing chuckles that are reserved for the sly of eye, either. Not one of those 'I know something you don't' snort of derision. Not even one of those snickers of 'If only you knew what I knew'. No indeed. No sirree. No ma'am and miss and buddy and pal.
This laugh rolls from the toes and grows to the knows and out through the throws of a solid great gallumping belly of a laugh that you feel will never stop and in the end it is so incredibly overwhelming that to think of it in the future, and you will....I promise you that you will, you will cry from the joy of the memories and you will cry for the sadness of the loss, and you will laugh again, but not as loudly and not as sadly and not as joyously. You will realize the simple and complex real truth that we are all part of this madness, this absolute balmy bonkers of an IS, this nutty conceptual Now of a Universe and no matter how far we run to deny it and deny it we will, we cannot, in the end, once the truth of it all washes over us like the worlds biggest cat tongue, rubbing us raw by scraping away that incredible stench of proud human ego ignorance.
In short, we are the liars, and we are the lie. Conversely, we are also the StoryTellers and we are the Story. In fact, you can take any combination of we are the ... and we are the ... and it would still fit. See how easy it is to make a myth? Or a hit? Same/same, dear reader. Same/same.
This 'remembering' that our friend, the man... Er, let's call him something else. Give him a name. I mean, after all, everything has one, even if it's just 'that thing'. It's an identifier. It's a locator. It's what your mom used in full length when you knew you were in trouble, even if you didn't do anything, really, at all.
Let us call him Glenn. With double Ns. Double Ns just add to the mystery, don't you think? Really, we could call him by my name, but that would just be silly and clumsy and I would never know who I was talking about anyway. So we'll call him Glenn. It's a good name. Not as good as yours, perhaps, but then, if it were, we'd be talking about someone entirely different.
So, to begin again. On this particular Sunday, at 6:42 am precisely, or at least as precise as atomic decay can be, and bless it's little heart as it surely does try doesn't it? At 6:42 precisely, Glenn remembered EveryTHING. Great flashes of awareness and awesomeness flared to life as the answers to... well... everything flooded his great brainy brain. He felt that who he was and what he was became stretched so thin that he, the he-ness of himself, disappeared into the all that was existence. For that moment, that flaring and painful and somehow joyous and ecstatic years long moment, he was everywhere. He was everything. He was Nothing. Nothing was beyond his knowledge as there were no past, no future, no life, no knowledge. It was all part and parcel of the incredible, unloving and unlovable persistently present now.
Now, there may be some 'debate' about the use of the word 'unlovable'. Again, don't care. I'm a sheet of paper here. HOWEVER, if you choose to love objects that have no true existence, then who is anyone to judge, unless of course, they are a judge, and then it's pretty obvious. Loving a rock? Okay... but don't expect it to love you back. Love the taste of pizza? Purely a chemical reaction to another chemical reaction. Love the air around you? You better! If it wasn't around you, you'd be dead, right?
But to love a universal state of is-ness seems that it would be incredibly hard since it requires a leap of faith and a jump to the left. To love the Now is to love forever and away and never to stop because there really really, and truly true is nothing else in the universe but the Now.
As a human being, it's very hard to love the now, especially when that splatter of bacon grease flies up and gets your cheek. It's insanely hard with the now contains the very moment when you see a loved one breathe their last breath. It is beyond reason to expect one to love the now when a baby, not barely old enough to ... or anyone, actually, because everyone is somebody's baby... when a baby is murdered, killed, snuffed out, removed from your particular now forever and ever again, amen.
If one human being has ever, ever, ever, reached that point of loving the persistently eternal now, then I put forth that the one who is doing the loving is no longer exactly a human being. They have reached a point of something moreness that can only be attainable by leaving that 'human' thing behind, at least part way. It requires a sacrifice of ego. A sacrifice of self. The release of the Id from all the Idcentric obligations.
In short, you either start out being not 'exactly" human or somehow it finds you in a moment of weakness or a moment of strength when your mind is distracted by incredible amazement or by mountainous sorrow or unbearable pain, and you become transformed beyond what is 'exactly' human into the something moreness of realizing how small and yet how large you are. How small and how large we all are. And in that bubble of realization we, you, usn's, expand to be beyond the all, beyond the veil, beyond the beyond and see all of it for what it is and in that moment... in that incredible moment,
We laugh.
And not just one of those knowing chuckles that are reserved for the sly of eye, either. Not one of those 'I know something you don't' snort of derision. Not even one of those snickers of 'If only you knew what I knew'. No indeed. No sirree. No ma'am and miss and buddy and pal.
This laugh rolls from the toes and grows to the knows and out through the throws of a solid great gallumping belly of a laugh that you feel will never stop and in the end it is so incredibly overwhelming that to think of it in the future, and you will....I promise you that you will, you will cry from the joy of the memories and you will cry for the sadness of the loss, and you will laugh again, but not as loudly and not as sadly and not as joyously. You will realize the simple and complex real truth that we are all part of this madness, this absolute balmy bonkers of an IS, this nutty conceptual Now of a Universe and no matter how far we run to deny it and deny it we will, we cannot, in the end, once the truth of it all washes over us like the worlds biggest cat tongue, rubbing us raw by scraping away that incredible stench of proud human ego ignorance.
In short, we are the liars, and we are the lie. Conversely, we are also the StoryTellers and we are the Story. In fact, you can take any combination of we are the ... and we are the ... and it would still fit. See how easy it is to make a myth? Or a hit? Same/same, dear reader. Same/same.
(no subject)
Date: 2021-05-20 07:43 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2021-05-22 05:40 am (UTC)Thank you so much. That just made my day.