I cannot, would not, speak for you.
I cannot say that We All do this or that.
For although the similarities of this base life are many,
My Mind is mine, and Yours belongs to you.
My thoughts have shape and patterned hue,
Held together by my own electric machinery.
They need neither sympathetic agreement nor
Presumed community to form and continue.
To announce None of Us, like We All Do,
Would be more assumptive of Godly omniscience
Than any human has the merit to claim
As one hundred percent known to be true.
To ‘awaken’ is to see more clearly than when slumbering in the Dreaming state of Living. It is to seek to understand the position and the state of the awareness which you take to be your point of consciously observing the fabrics of reality within your purview.
You, the compartmentalised human, cannot know All, not even All about your own Self.
The act of living awake is to move closer to understanding living as it is for you, to acknowledge what is true, or more meaningfully – to represent information to yourself in as accurate a manner as possible. To misrepresent to yourself the information gathered in your observations of life around you spins you into your own fantasy, an imagined story.
If you continue to create for yourself an inaccurate version of your observations, you will have slow progress in attempts to develop your inhoused conscious intelligence to something which understands the more complex mysteries on which our human lives are built.
Perhaps the most obvious device of human speech which indicates a living in imagination is to use ‘all inclusive’ statements – We all, None of us, Noone will – etc. These do not form true statements, they are fantastical generalisations stemming from an inner drama playing out a pantomine written to include others as subcharacters, which will destablize the user’s ability to accurately record and report on observations and thoughts formed from them.
Further to the inner sticky web created, a person using these devices is disconnecting from a potential audience rather than attracting one, by assuming too much. I feel that this person may be so confident of their observations that they have no interest in actually knowing mine nor do they leave space for me to think or to act outside of their assumption that I am already doing or not doing what they say ‘We All’ are.
To my reasoning, the mind using this dialogue is a closed system, and one which would require extensive outlay of mental resource to engage with. They ask for opinions yet have already decided in such a way as to restrict the level of access which contrary information has in entering their library of available text on which their worldview is constructed.
Why should any of these Others which they implore for answers expend the energy and moments of time to respond, reason or debate their thoughts with them? Isn’t it like throwing pebbles into a swirling pool, watching them sink out of sight whilst bubbles keep rising?
Then I read back over what I have written; wonder why I wrote it. Did I put the words together in the best way that I can craft to take thoughts from my mind and place them onto light backgrounds in ways that can be understood as I intended? Did I successfully form an imprint on glass to faithfully represent the original?
This brings me to an open glade of realizing that my first purpose in the action of writing is to practice how to accurately translate concepts born in the mind field into human language and convey that inner landscape to Another – separated as we are within little closed wheels of bone and tissue, reliant on words to transfer complex meaning.
And then, I think, what of the meaning? Why am I, why is anyone, desiring and labouring to transfer meaning into a passing stream? What drives my psyche to want to gather what sparks around on my mind field, repackage it, and scatter it to other mind fields?
How much like RNA am I? Am I a protozoa? A white corpuscle? Protoplasm? Do I even have a function? Or am I a cog from an ancient machine tossed into a computer and rattling around in the case? Perhaps I am a strange sound pushed by cosmic winds into an unfamiliar symphony.
Cheers and may your day provide the tinkling lights of a fog-doused pathway to the answers for some of your own questions.
Published on: The Nothing In Between, 02/02/2025,
Photo by Alfred Schrock
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