This Dream of Life

Every morning, I wake up.  Was I there a moment ago?  Maybe.  Sometimes it’s difficult to tell.  Most often, I’m not thinking about “a moment ago.”  I’m thinking about “a moment from now.”  As I get up, and move about the house, I am suspended in “a moment from now”:

make the coffee/breakfast shake/etc

brush the teeth

feed the animals

put on the clothes

and always, always,

be living

for somewhere

and something

I’m not.

This is the dream of life: because if, for whatever reason, we had to just stop–even for one, short, everlasting moment–we would see that our whole world is a fabrication: a story of thought, created moment after moment after moment.

Where is it leading us?  Mark Danielewski wrote a book called House of Leaves, and while I hate to spoil the show, life is like a house of leaves.  Its hallways seem to lead, seem to lead, promise to lead somewhere . . .

but at some point,

we stop

and realize

that life has led us

nowhere

which is precisely

where we are

right

now.

Is this nihilism?  Of course not.  Nihilism would be making a big deal out of it–trying to fix it in some way, trying to tell another story about who we are and why we are and why we matter.  The opposite, eternalism, is to believe the storm of lies the mind constantly produces.  Is there another way?

Of course.  As T.S. Eliot wrote, there is:

A condition of complete simplicity

costing not less than everything

“Everything” is every thing and everyone we were led to believe that we were.  If we can do that–really let go?  Then

all shall be well

and all manner of thing shall be well

Or, to quote Paul Hedderman: “There is the possibility that you are what you are looking for.”  Who is listening to these words?  Who hears them?  Who knows them?

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