March 28, 2012
What we call the beginning is often the end.
And to make an end is to make a beginning. The end is where we start from.
The progress of an artist is a continual self-sacrifice,
a continual extinction of personality.
The communication of the dead
is tongued with fire beyond the language of the living.
Only those who will risk going too far can possibly find out how far one can go.
Quotes by T.S. Eliot
Photographs from Dead Boy’s Poem
March 17, 2012
Revelations fall from the sky and open my mind and the key to it all is love. Love in its most absolute sense, of the peace that comes from unconditional acceptance. And that, that has been the hardest thing because I have found myself falling for the okie doke time and again.
The other evening Dale said to me, Words affect our brain like computer commands. And I could see it. It looked like an old TRS 80 or a Commodore 64, or maybe I’ve just been watching too much Lost. But I could see the cursor in green, flashing against the black screen. And I could see word typed in, and when you press ENTER, it is done.
Does the computer disobey commands? Nahh. We didn’t program it to think. We programmed it to follow. And that reflects our own… inadequacies. Me, I have heard words, and I accepted them as truth. Whether it is because I have a genuine need to believe in other people, or because I was trained to do so, all I know if that I find myself trying to make words true.
Only now, something has changed. Words do not appear as truth, but as blessings and curses. That is to say, they are aspirational. They want to be absolute, but in reality, they are always one step removed. Because they are symbols, and not the thing themselves. And once I can see their distance from Truth, I can evaluate them as representations rather than facts.
For example, C told me “he was made to feel” but no one but C has control over his mind. But the finger was pointed at me, as though he chose to give his power away, and in doing so he was absolved from being responsible why he felt as he did. And in pointing the finger at me, I was triggered, because I never meant to make him feel anything that he put upon himself and laid at my feet. All I wanted was to express my truth, as he is the one who gave me the courage to speak. Yet by allowing him to burden me with the responsibility for his mind, I felt horrible, because once again, I swallowed the lie.
I cannot do anything to anyone else. And no one can do anything to me. But in order to reach the place where there is no fault or blame, there is only personal responsibility for what I believe, I have to let go of everything—including the belief that my life has meaning.
Because meaning is a product of words. Meaning is an illusion. It does not actually exist. It is plastic, as in a chemical construction. It is made up in the brain because that is part of the brain’s programming. But just because the brain wants to believe does not mean that belief, in and of itself, is real. Or valuable. Unless we want it to be.
But it is as Mr. Brown said: Want not, hurt not. That is all. So long as I desire meaning I will hurt. Because I will always go against truth. Truth is a paradox. And paradox shows that words and ideas are only one half the whole. The resolution of duality lies in the infinite wisdom of the universe to acknowledge that meaning is a mind game and words are its minions and that while we desire these things, they are simply… time killers.
Because, what is our purpose? Well, I cannot speak for anyone else. But I have only one purpose right now, and that is to heal. And in order to heal I must strip everything away, not just the lies but the illusions, and the grasping need. The need to believe that my brain holds truth. Because it doesn’t hold anything except shadows and illusions.
Mr. Brown likes to speak of Plato’s Cave, and it just occurred to me that the cave is the brain. And we will remain in the cave as long as we believe that the brain is where Truth can be found. But this week I walked outside the cave and saw the sun for the first time in my life. And it is as the beautiful sunlight falls upon my face that I begin to let go, I begin to submit…