Since I was a little child, and to this very day, one of the most difficult and mind-blowing things I can do is to stare for any length of time into a mirror.
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This is it.
Mmmmm, that's the smell of Freedom(tm)*!
21 May 2007 @ 03:17 pm
11 May 2007 @ 05:49 pm
A few months back, I developed a tool at Scrutable Systems. At first it was something of a lark, just a novelty to entertain myself during conference calls. While playing with it, I began to realize that it had a potential use for my own internal knowledge management purposes within the organization. Slowly, ever so slowly, it dawned on me that this tool had uses far, far beyond managing a few servers and writing a few lesson plans. It is only recently that I have begun to understand the staggering scope of the possibilities it presents.
Somehow, over all of this time, I kept the existence of this tool a secret -- from my employer, from my coworkers, even from my friends and family. It was never exactly deliberate, per se -- there were many times I felt like showing it to others, describing it to others, gushing with excitement over its elegance, its flexibility. And yet, every time was never quite the right time to mention it. I couldn't find the segue in the conversation, I couldn't quite find the words, I would begin to raise the subject, and then a faint sense, deep in my gut, would drive me to turn the conversation towards something else entirely. It was as if I was somehow protecting it, though I knew not why. Now, however -- with the help of the very tool itself -- now I understand why I have taken these pains. My earlier attitude had been too cavalier, too negligent with something of such breathtaking scope. It is only now, now that I have just begun to understand the sheer enormity of this find, now that I have just begun to understand that something of such a magnitude cannot belong to one man or one organization, it is only now that I am ready to share it with the world.
I wish I could take much credit for it, but I simply can't. As with many others throughout history, I am no genius, no sage, I am merely a courier of the divine. While some might say that I have harnessed the power of the gods, I prefer to consider myself a simple technician who merely happened to have the blind luck to be at just the right place in history to have the opportunity to forge genius into a tool accessible to all.
I am but a servant.
It is an ontological tool capable of modeling not just the sum total of all human knowledge, not just the sum total of all possible human knowledge -- it is a tool capable of modeling no less than the superdomain of all possible knowledge. I realize that's a pretty heady claim. "Impossible!" you cry. But such a tool is all too possible, and is now a reality. That reality has a profound moral dimension which has weighed upon me, and it is for that reason that I now offer it to you, to all of you, to humanity. No one man should wield such awesome power.
Use it freely, but use it reverently. Never lose sight of the moral burden placed upon the wielder. Use it only to enlighten ignorance and alleviate suffering. Use it only as a beacon unto the darkness. Never use it in a foolish or shortsighted or selfish manner, for surely the full fury of your hubris will turn not just upon you, but upon us all.
Behold... The Rumsfeldian Knowledge Matrix!
Use this tool wisely, my friends. Do not allow yourselves to become corrupted by its power.
Somehow, over all of this time, I kept the existence of this tool a secret -- from my employer, from my coworkers, even from my friends and family. It was never exactly deliberate, per se -- there were many times I felt like showing it to others, describing it to others, gushing with excitement over its elegance, its flexibility. And yet, every time was never quite the right time to mention it. I couldn't find the segue in the conversation, I couldn't quite find the words, I would begin to raise the subject, and then a faint sense, deep in my gut, would drive me to turn the conversation towards something else entirely. It was as if I was somehow protecting it, though I knew not why. Now, however -- with the help of the very tool itself -- now I understand why I have taken these pains. My earlier attitude had been too cavalier, too negligent with something of such breathtaking scope. It is only now, now that I have just begun to understand the sheer enormity of this find, now that I have just begun to understand that something of such a magnitude cannot belong to one man or one organization, it is only now that I am ready to share it with the world.
I wish I could take much credit for it, but I simply can't. As with many others throughout history, I am no genius, no sage, I am merely a courier of the divine. While some might say that I have harnessed the power of the gods, I prefer to consider myself a simple technician who merely happened to have the blind luck to be at just the right place in history to have the opportunity to forge genius into a tool accessible to all.
I am but a servant.
It is an ontological tool capable of modeling not just the sum total of all human knowledge, not just the sum total of all possible human knowledge -- it is a tool capable of modeling no less than the superdomain of all possible knowledge. I realize that's a pretty heady claim. "Impossible!" you cry. But such a tool is all too possible, and is now a reality. That reality has a profound moral dimension which has weighed upon me, and it is for that reason that I now offer it to you, to all of you, to humanity. No one man should wield such awesome power.
Use it freely, but use it reverently. Never lose sight of the moral burden placed upon the wielder. Use it only to enlighten ignorance and alleviate suffering. Use it only as a beacon unto the darkness. Never use it in a foolish or shortsighted or selfish manner, for surely the full fury of your hubris will turn not just upon you, but upon us all.
Behold... The Rumsfeldian Knowledge Matrix!
Use this tool wisely, my friends. Do not allow yourselves to become corrupted by its power.
27 April 2007 @ 09:25 pm
"As a man can drink water from any side of a full tank, so the skilled theologian can wrest from any scripture that which will serve his purpose."
[Bhagavad Gita [The Lord's Song] (250 B.C.-A.D. 250)]
[Bhagavad Gita [The Lord's Song] (250 B.C.-A.D. 250)]
22 June 2006 @ 01:15 pm
An experiment:
Make sure your speakers are turned up to reasonable level, and then click here. That's a link to a 10 second-long audio file that's about 1.7mb, so it may take a minute to load. It'll either download or open in your browser, depending on your setup, but either way, go ahead and play it.
Don't worry, it's not some lame joke I'm playing on you, it's not someone screaming or fart noises or anything dumb like that. Aside from the fact that it's an audio file, it's completely work-safe.
I think.
Anyway, go ahead and play the file. Then post a comment here telling me whether or not you heard it, and if you heard it, what you heard.
The story behind it is here and here. (I got the file from here.)
Update: I've alternately been told that the sound is "irritating," that it "f'ing hurts ," and that it's "annoying as hell." I can neither confirm nor deny these claims. You have been warned.
Make sure your speakers are turned up to reasonable level, and then click here. That's a link to a 10 second-long audio file that's about 1.7mb, so it may take a minute to load. It'll either download or open in your browser, depending on your setup, but either way, go ahead and play it.
Don't worry, it's not some lame joke I'm playing on you, it's not someone screaming or fart noises or anything dumb like that. Aside from the fact that it's an audio file, it's completely work-safe.
I think.
Anyway, go ahead and play the file. Then post a comment here telling me whether or not you heard it, and if you heard it, what you heard.
The story behind it is here and here. (I got the file from here.)
Update: I've alternately been told that the sound is "irritating," that it "f'ing hurts ," and that it's "annoying as hell." I can neither confirm nor deny these claims. You have been warned.
01 April 2006 @ 03:39 am
"Order" does not exist any more than "chaos" or "randomness" exist. They are simply statements of opinion or, if you're feeling charitable, perspective. If we can filter out virtually all data about a situation such that we can articulate an extremely rough approximation of some limited aspect of it -- an "aspect" being an artificial construct, of course -- then it is "ordered." If we cannot, then it is "chaotic" or "random."
Ultimately, when we attempt to examine concepts such as God or free will, we project a model of the universe from which we then draw our assumptions -- and which is almost always, if not always, dominated by one or the other of these perspectives/opinions. This is why both atheism and theism are flawed, and why the concepts of free will and determinism are both flawed. There is something that is both like and not like God that is God, and we are both deterministic and random in our behaviors, which are neither.
Okay, I need to get back to work now.
Ultimately, when we attempt to examine concepts such as God or free will, we project a model of the universe from which we then draw our assumptions -- and which is almost always, if not always, dominated by one or the other of these perspectives/opinions. This is why both atheism and theism are flawed, and why the concepts of free will and determinism are both flawed. There is something that is both like and not like God that is God, and we are both deterministic and random in our behaviors, which are neither.
Okay, I need to get back to work now.
09 January 2006 @ 04:10 am
Truly, my powers are limited only by my ability to give a fuck.
Really, I think this is kinda the core of it. This is the running theme. If I could just be more honest with myself about what I really give a fuck about, I think my life would make a lot more sense. Conversely, many of my great regrets in life stem from not knowing that I really should give a fuck about certain things, or convincing myself that I gave a fuck about other things when I truly didn't. One should only do what one should do. How spectacularly spoiled I am that this can even be an issue.
Know thyself, etc.
Really, I think this is kinda the core of it. This is the running theme. If I could just be more honest with myself about what I really give a fuck about, I think my life would make a lot more sense. Conversely, many of my great regrets in life stem from not knowing that I really should give a fuck about certain things, or convincing myself that I gave a fuck about other things when I truly didn't. One should only do what one should do. How spectacularly spoiled I am that this can even be an issue.
Know thyself, etc.
22 December 2005 @ 03:03 pm
The Voynich manuscript is a mysterious illustrated book of unknown contents, written some 600 years ago by an anonymous author in an unidentified alphabet and unintelligible language.
Over its recorded existence, the Voynich manuscript has been the object of intense study by many professional and amateur cryptographers — including some top American and British codebreakers of World War II fame — who all failed to decipher a single word. This string of failures has turned the Voynich manuscript into the Holy Grail of historical cryptology, but it has also given weight to the theory that the book is simply an elaborate hoax — a meaningless sequence of arbitrary symbols.
...
The illustrations of the manuscript shed little light on its contents, but imply that the book consists of six "sections", with different styles and subject matter. Except for the last section, which contains only text, almost every page contains at least one illustration. The sections, and their conventional names, are:
- Herbal: each page displays one plant (sometimes two), and a few paragraphs of text—a format typical of European herbals of the time. Some parts of these drawings are larger and cleaner copies of sketches seen in the pharmaceutical section (below).
- Astronomical: contains circular diagrams, some of them with suns, moons, and stars, suggestive of astronomy or astrology. One series of 12 diagrams depicts conventional symbols for the zodiacal constellations (two fishes for Pisces, a bull for Taurus, a soldier with crossbow for Sagittarius, etc.). Each symbol is surrounded by exactly 30 miniature women figures, most of them naked, each holding a labeled star. The last two pages of this section (Aquarius and Capricorn, roughly January and February) were lost, while Aries and Taurus are split into four paired diagrams with 15 stars each. Some of these diagrams are on fold-out pages.
- Biological: a dense continuous text interspersed with figures, mostly showing small nude women bathing in pools or tubs connected by an elaborate network of pipes, some of them clearly shaped like body organs. Some of the women wear crowns.
- Cosmological: more circular diagrams, but of an obscure nature. This section also has fold-outs; one of them spans six pages and contains some sort of map or diagram, with nine "islands" connected by "causeways", castles, and possibly a volcano.
- Pharmaceutical: many labeled drawings of isolated plant parts (roots, leaves, etc.); objects resembling apothecary jars drawn along the margins; and a few text paragraphs.
- Recipes: many short paragraphs, each marked with a flower-like (or star-like) "bullet".
More...
Over its recorded existence, the Voynich manuscript has been the object of intense study by many professional and amateur cryptographers — including some top American and British codebreakers of World War II fame — who all failed to decipher a single word. This string of failures has turned the Voynich manuscript into the Holy Grail of historical cryptology, but it has also given weight to the theory that the book is simply an elaborate hoax — a meaningless sequence of arbitrary symbols.
...
The illustrations of the manuscript shed little light on its contents, but imply that the book consists of six "sections", with different styles and subject matter. Except for the last section, which contains only text, almost every page contains at least one illustration. The sections, and their conventional names, are:
- Herbal: each page displays one plant (sometimes two), and a few paragraphs of text—a format typical of European herbals of the time. Some parts of these drawings are larger and cleaner copies of sketches seen in the pharmaceutical section (below).
- Astronomical: contains circular diagrams, some of them with suns, moons, and stars, suggestive of astronomy or astrology. One series of 12 diagrams depicts conventional symbols for the zodiacal constellations (two fishes for Pisces, a bull for Taurus, a soldier with crossbow for Sagittarius, etc.). Each symbol is surrounded by exactly 30 miniature women figures, most of them naked, each holding a labeled star. The last two pages of this section (Aquarius and Capricorn, roughly January and February) were lost, while Aries and Taurus are split into four paired diagrams with 15 stars each. Some of these diagrams are on fold-out pages.
- Biological: a dense continuous text interspersed with figures, mostly showing small nude women bathing in pools or tubs connected by an elaborate network of pipes, some of them clearly shaped like body organs. Some of the women wear crowns.
- Cosmological: more circular diagrams, but of an obscure nature. This section also has fold-outs; one of them spans six pages and contains some sort of map or diagram, with nine "islands" connected by "causeways", castles, and possibly a volcano.
- Pharmaceutical: many labeled drawings of isolated plant parts (roots, leaves, etc.); objects resembling apothecary jars drawn along the margins; and a few text paragraphs.
- Recipes: many short paragraphs, each marked with a flower-like (or star-like) "bullet".
More...
16 November 2005 @ 05:08 am
Brain imaging of regular working folks who meditate regularly revealed increased thickness in cortical regions related to sensory, auditory and visual perception, as well as internal perception -- the automatic monitoring of heart rate or breathing, for example.
The study also indicates that regular meditation may slow age-related thinning of the frontal cortex.
"What is most fascinating to me is the suggestion that meditation practice can change anyone's gray matter," said study team member Jeremy Gray, an assistant professor of psychology at Yale. "The study participants were people with jobs and families. They just meditated on average 40 minutes each day, you don't have to be a monk."
More...
The study also indicates that regular meditation may slow age-related thinning of the frontal cortex.
"What is most fascinating to me is the suggestion that meditation practice can change anyone's gray matter," said study team member Jeremy Gray, an assistant professor of psychology at Yale. "The study participants were people with jobs and families. They just meditated on average 40 minutes each day, you don't have to be a monk."
More...
21 June 2005 @ 08:20 pm
Ha-HA!
(Click here for larger version.)
Ha ha ha ha haaaa! That's crazy stuff, right? That's funny! That's weird!
There's just one little thing you should know...
( Click HERE for the WACKY PUNCHLINE... )
You can thank![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif)
wellsheeyit for throwing this picture my way.
(Click here for larger version.)
Ha ha ha ha haaaa! That's crazy stuff, right? That's funny! That's weird!
There's just one little thing you should know...
( Click HERE for the WACKY PUNCHLINE... )
You can thank
wellsheeyit for throwing this picture my way.06 June 2005 @ 03:53 pm
Without going too much into the reciprocality project (http://www.reciprocality.org) I'll say that it's keen. I'm not bought into everything they have to say, but I think they're triangulating on something useful. I've played around with it a bit in the past, and I'm of a mind to play around with it some more. But then there's this bit:
Otherwise, there is an easy way to start. So easy kids that are trying really hard to be natural mappers often discover it. Get yourself an imaginary friend, as smart as you are, but totally ignorant of the world. Whatever you feel you could relate to - you don't have to tell anyone that you find it easiest to talk to the 1960's cartoon character `Astronut' hovering about in his little UFO with a VHF television aerial on his head. Or maybe Sean Connery's canny medieval investigator in The Name of the Rose would be more fun. Explain everything to your imaginary friend. What it's for. Where it comes from. Where it's going.
At first your full attention is required for this exercise, but after a while the logic between knowledge packets becomes as automatic as driving, and your attention is only drawn to unusual situations: pieces of your map that need filling in or contradictions resolving. It works. With your maps building, discussion of techniques is possible, because we all know what we are talking about.
(Go to http://www.reciprocality.org/Reciprocal
I mention this because in the coming days (and weeks?) you may see me talking to Steve. Steve will be observing me from some distant future, or so I've been led to believe. I'm not sure exactly why Steve is observing me -- or, rather, I'm not sure why I'm being observed. I know why Steve's observing me: he's the cameraman. *I* wouldn't want to have to watch me all day long, but maybe the job market ain't so great in Steve's world, I dunno. Steve's a pretty quiet guy, so there really isn't all that much I know about him. (Him?) Maybe the circumstances are a bit more mundane, and Steve is just some alien operative quietly gathering intelligence for the bloody conquest of Earth. Whatever, just don't blame me.
Anyway, I'll be narrating the mundane for Steve for a while. I just figured it would make things less complicated to explain that up front.
Otherwise, there is an easy way to start. So easy kids that are trying really hard to be natural mappers often discover it. Get yourself an imaginary friend, as smart as you are, but totally ignorant of the world. Whatever you feel you could relate to - you don't have to tell anyone that you find it easiest to talk to the 1960's cartoon character `Astronut' hovering about in his little UFO with a VHF television aerial on his head. Or maybe Sean Connery's canny medieval investigator in The Name of the Rose would be more fun. Explain everything to your imaginary friend. What it's for. Where it comes from. Where it's going.
At first your full attention is required for this exercise, but after a while the logic between knowledge packets becomes as automatic as driving, and your attention is only drawn to unusual situations: pieces of your map that need filling in or contradictions resolving. It works. With your maps building, discussion of techniques is possible, because we all know what we are talking about.
(Go to http://www.reciprocality.org/Reciprocal
I mention this because in the coming days (and weeks?) you may see me talking to Steve. Steve will be observing me from some distant future, or so I've been led to believe. I'm not sure exactly why Steve is observing me -- or, rather, I'm not sure why I'm being observed. I know why Steve's observing me: he's the cameraman. *I* wouldn't want to have to watch me all day long, but maybe the job market ain't so great in Steve's world, I dunno. Steve's a pretty quiet guy, so there really isn't all that much I know about him. (Him?) Maybe the circumstances are a bit more mundane, and Steve is just some alien operative quietly gathering intelligence for the bloody conquest of Earth. Whatever, just don't blame me.
Anyway, I'll be narrating the mundane for Steve for a while. I just figured it would make things less complicated to explain that up front.
02 May 2005 @ 06:39 pm
Life is good, but crazy. It's weird because I'm going through all of these things now, even when I'm not trying to, and it's just... I dunno. Weird is the best term for it. Or strange. Not in bad ways, just... disorienting. Disorienting. That's the word for it. At the same time, I want to talk about it, want to talk my head off about it, but then I have a chance and I don't even know what to say or where to begin. There are apparently a fair number of people around me who probably would understand (I think) -- which is in itself an interesting revelation -- and I've told them bits and they understand that something is going on, but it's kind of hard to read them. Harder still to sit them down and talk their heads off about it -- don't know why that is. Writing helps, but there are just limits. Compounding this, of course, is that this isn't just limited to the mystical. All kinds of personal stuff is being called into question by friends and strangers and whatnot. Which is appropriate, I suppose -- it seems the mystical and the personal are tightly intertwined, perhaps ultimately the same -- but the practical effect is that it's more STUFF to deal with. That's fine, I'm open to self-examination, but jesus, the sheer quantity, it's just getting TIRING.
After my little drinking binge on Friday I sort of took the weekend off. Spent it with some friends cleaning out my old apartment. I'd arranged to do that previously, but the timing was fortuitous. Very cleansing. Feeling a bit more grounded/centered/recharged, which is nice.
At this point I'm not sure what anything is. I'm not sure if I'm growing closer to seeing through a veil of illusion at some kind of deeper truth, or moving into some realm of subjective reality. Not sure if I'm changing or the world is changing or if I'm moving between worlds. Not sure if it's mysticism or magic. Not sure if I'm perceiving the world differently, or just myself. Not sure whether I'm dealing with other people or archetypical reflections of my subconscious. Not sure if this is "real" or if I'm just playing insane head games with myself. Not sure those differences aren't arbitrary.
Not really sure of anything. Not sure it matters whether I'm sure of anything.
Not sure how different any of this is from any other stage of my life; just more condensed, more focused, more deliberate. It's a good feeling, I'm glad I'm doing it, it can only make me stronger. But, lord, it's weird. I don't know if I'm waking out of a dream or into one.
After my little drinking binge on Friday I sort of took the weekend off. Spent it with some friends cleaning out my old apartment. I'd arranged to do that previously, but the timing was fortuitous. Very cleansing. Feeling a bit more grounded/centered/recharged, which is nice.
At this point I'm not sure what anything is. I'm not sure if I'm growing closer to seeing through a veil of illusion at some kind of deeper truth, or moving into some realm of subjective reality. Not sure if I'm changing or the world is changing or if I'm moving between worlds. Not sure if it's mysticism or magic. Not sure if I'm perceiving the world differently, or just myself. Not sure whether I'm dealing with other people or archetypical reflections of my subconscious. Not sure if this is "real" or if I'm just playing insane head games with myself. Not sure those differences aren't arbitrary.
Not really sure of anything. Not sure it matters whether I'm sure of anything.
Not sure how different any of this is from any other stage of my life; just more condensed, more focused, more deliberate. It's a good feeling, I'm glad I'm doing it, it can only make me stronger. But, lord, it's weird. I don't know if I'm waking out of a dream or into one.
25 April 2005 @ 01:06 am
So, Kingdom of Slack rented the Dabbs hotel for the weekend. Ahhhhh, so, so kind........
kreneezoner's art films. totalfantasy's thoughtful gift. tatianastarr's healing ritual, whose power I swear to you I saw ripple through an incalculable number of dimensions. Realizing what a beautiful act of trust it was for rainysummerday and Greg and everyone else to invite us to participate in it. Vomiting with dignity. Hearing the strength and grace in bambina_cricket's singing and chanting. Seeing ribs in the sky. Talking about the nature of yes with sea_of_change. Seeing my life laid out before me like a freshly inked page. (I've got to paint that scene.) Hearing beautiful people at a campfire in the distance singing "Go Ask Alice." Screaming at the sky, "WE KNOW NOTHING!" Breaking my knees. Being tormented by the insidiousness of nobodobodon's invisible button. Feeling bambina_cricket wrapped around me. Being privileged to share gingerbrit's glacier water. Seeing all the amazing things that mary_austin wrote and the beautiful things she drew. My fear of signing it the wrong way, and sea_of_change's absolute certainty that it must be signed. Pushing a train. Hiking with gingerbrit and mary_austin and kreneezoner and Rusty and Denny and Kyle to the Haunted Railroad Bridge. Crossing the beam and pissing into the abyss. Talking with gfire about God and hearing Jon's take on Titanic. Hanging out with totalfantasy and rainysummerday and asparagusp. Meditating by the waterfall until a big drop of rain plunked me on the head. Walking across the waterfall with good company. captainsodium and mscaution and the sprout. Faerie stone. License plate. Book reading. Brisket. Cooper's bbq. Genuine human problem. And on and on and on and on and on....
It's funny that I can scream myself hoarse ranting like a mad prophet, and yet feel like there's so much left unsaid. But that's okay. Like Mary says "It's all a choice." She's right. All my choices over the years culminated in my presence there, among these amazing people.
There are certain moments that will be forever in my memory. Certain times and places that will echo throughout my life with love and beauty and learning. This is one of them.
I feel like I've been reborn. Or released. Or rejuvenated. Or... I don't know what. But it's amazing. I am blessed. And I am deeply grateful for it. You people are amazing to me. I am honored to know you all.
kreneezoner's art films. totalfantasy's thoughtful gift. tatianastarr's healing ritual, whose power I swear to you I saw ripple through an incalculable number of dimensions. Realizing what a beautiful act of trust it was for rainysummerday and Greg and everyone else to invite us to participate in it. Vomiting with dignity. Hearing the strength and grace in bambina_cricket's singing and chanting. Seeing ribs in the sky. Talking about the nature of yes with sea_of_change. Seeing my life laid out before me like a freshly inked page. (I've got to paint that scene.) Hearing beautiful people at a campfire in the distance singing "Go Ask Alice." Screaming at the sky, "WE KNOW NOTHING!" Breaking my knees. Being tormented by the insidiousness of nobodobodon's invisible button. Feeling bambina_cricket wrapped around me. Being privileged to share gingerbrit's glacier water. Seeing all the amazing things that mary_austin wrote and the beautiful things she drew. My fear of signing it the wrong way, and sea_of_change's absolute certainty that it must be signed. Pushing a train. Hiking with gingerbrit and mary_austin and kreneezoner and Rusty and Denny and Kyle to the Haunted Railroad Bridge. Crossing the beam and pissing into the abyss. Talking with gfire about God and hearing Jon's take on Titanic. Hanging out with totalfantasy and rainysummerday and asparagusp. Meditating by the waterfall until a big drop of rain plunked me on the head. Walking across the waterfall with good company. captainsodium and mscaution and the sprout. Faerie stone. License plate. Book reading. Brisket. Cooper's bbq. Genuine human problem. And on and on and on and on and on....It's funny that I can scream myself hoarse ranting like a mad prophet, and yet feel like there's so much left unsaid. But that's okay. Like Mary says "It's all a choice." She's right. All my choices over the years culminated in my presence there, among these amazing people.
There are certain moments that will be forever in my memory. Certain times and places that will echo throughout my life with love and beauty and learning. This is one of them.
I feel like I've been reborn. Or released. Or rejuvenated. Or... I don't know what. But it's amazing. I am blessed. And I am deeply grateful for it. You people are amazing to me. I am honored to know you all.
21 April 2005 @ 05:01 am
One of my great, quiet, personal fixations is immediacy. It is something I have experienced for years. It is the state above what, for a while, I was calling "fundamental deception" or "fundamental delusion". Those terms are inadequate. Now I try to call this state itself things like "immediacy" or "presence" or "awareness" -- which is also inadequate, but there you go. Like a romantic love or a flavor or a memory, words cannot adequately describe it. When you hear people talking about things like the finger that points to the moon, or that which cannot be named, well, this is the kind of thing they're talking about.
It is the scales falling from your eyes, it is peeling off your protective layer of translucent plastic. It is like watching television in a foreign language you do not understand. It is like looking at a television while remaining as detached from it as you would be when watching the sofa. In the simplest sense, it is absolute presence in the immediate sliver of space and time in which you find yourself. It is taking in everything and letting nothing be false or assumed. It is looking into the night sky and noticing that the stars are not perfectly distinct pinpricks of light. It is staring into the mirror and seeing the asymmetry in your face.
And yes, Alex, it is seeing your hand as a paw.
Some of this I've described previously. I believe it is tied to the Taoist notion of Wu Wei, to the Zen concept of Awareness, to Christian mysticism, to all forms of meditation, to Gurdjieff's third state of consciousness, and obviously to Eckhart Tolle's concept of Now. Of course, I could be wrong. I don't think I am, but I'm not sure I'm right, either.
I mention this all again because I feel that this level of understanding is incomplete.
( I promise, this actually gets kind of interesting. )
It is the scales falling from your eyes, it is peeling off your protective layer of translucent plastic. It is like watching television in a foreign language you do not understand. It is like looking at a television while remaining as detached from it as you would be when watching the sofa. In the simplest sense, it is absolute presence in the immediate sliver of space and time in which you find yourself. It is taking in everything and letting nothing be false or assumed. It is looking into the night sky and noticing that the stars are not perfectly distinct pinpricks of light. It is staring into the mirror and seeing the asymmetry in your face.
And yes, Alex, it is seeing your hand as a paw.
Some of this I've described previously. I believe it is tied to the Taoist notion of Wu Wei, to the Zen concept of Awareness, to Christian mysticism, to all forms of meditation, to Gurdjieff's third state of consciousness, and obviously to Eckhart Tolle's concept of Now. Of course, I could be wrong. I don't think I am, but I'm not sure I'm right, either.
I mention this all again because I feel that this level of understanding is incomplete.
( I promise, this actually gets kind of interesting. )
Music: Hooverphonic, Autoharp
08 April 2005 @ 04:34 am
A few nights ago I tried something different.
I got into bed and spent some moments uttering a quiet prayer that had popped into my mind. "God, spirits of the underworld, spirits of the overworld, protect me and grant me safe passage to morning. Protect me and grant me safe passage to morning. Protect me and grant me safe passage to morning..." Then I lay there meditating, focused not on nothing, but upon the phrase "Show me my calling."
Then I fell asleep...
...
I was in front of my apartment complex. There was a large man, abnormally large, enormously large and mishapen. He was absolutely terrified, begging me to protect him, telling me that there was someone out there who was going to kill him. I did not know the creature he spoke of and I do not remember if it had a name, but a palpable sense of menace hung around it -- I was not frightened of it, but I was wary. The large man begged me to seek out this thing at the market (the bazaar?) and kill it. Partly out of a sense of law and partly out of a sense of fear I refused, but told the man that if the creature killed him that I would kill it in revenge, so the threat of that should be enough to keep the man safe. Needless to say, he was totally unconvinced and totally unconsolable.
...
I saw an image of a face, flat and dark and enormous, almost like it had been carved in a granite wall. It moved sluggishly but naturally, like flesh, like any ordinary face would. It seemed benign at the least, and I got the sense that this face, whatever it was, was not the threat.
...
I was in front of my apartment complex. I went up a set of stairs to the apartment across the way, when all of a sudden there was an enormous downpour. Torrential like a monsoon, thick brown water flooding the ground below, palm trees flapping helplessly in the winds. All of a sudden the staircase collapsed, spinning against the second floor juncture like an axis, like some sort of salvage ferris wheel. I was on it for the collapse, and rode it down to the ground, completely unscathed and unconcerned. I don't think I even got wet.
...
I awoke to my cat sitting in front of me, her fur glowing in the morning light. I lay there a minute, next to my sleeping girlfriend, trying to remember my dreams. Out of the corner of my eye I saw a small hand reach across my girlfriend's back, tap me lightly on the head three times, and disappear to where it had come from. I asked my girlfriend if she had just tapped me on the head. She mumbled something about waking her up. I asked again. She mumbled no and went back to sleep. The hand had looked smaller than hers, anyway. I propped myself up, looked around the room for a moment, and saw nothing. My cat started begging me to feed it. I went back to sleep.
...
I awoke into another dream, in front of my apartment complex. It was clear and dry, there had been no rains. I noticed that it was different from the apartment complex in my earlier dreams. I walked up the stairs to my neighbor across the way, and knocked on his door. I explained to him that I'd had a dream in which the stairs had collapsed, and that this might have been a warning -- perhaps about shoddy construction? -- and that he ought to have it checked out. He thanked me, and I left.
...
I had of vision of myself lying in bed, and I could see my naked body covered with long, fine, shallow cuts, like papercuts, that ran along the natural contours of my body -- between my ribs, along my back. I knew them as claw marks, almost certainly from that malevolent being, and I saw what might have been an image of it. Some emaciated, naked humanoid, possibly hunched over, with an almost yellowed flesh stretched taught over its bones and long fingers that tapered into claws.
...
The alarm went off and I woke up. I saw my apartment complex clearly in my mind, and realized that it was not like I had seen it in either of my dreams. I got up, remembering nothing clearly except the hand, remembering that I had had some interesting dreams but struggling to remember exactly what they were. I fed the cats and sat down in a big, soft chair, and meditated for a while. Afterwards I fixed myself a cup of coffee and sat, sipping it, trying to remember my dreams. The memories came this time, which was not surprising -- I often find that meditating first thing in the morning dramatically improves my recollection of the prior night.
Eventually I got dressed and headed to work, and had a pleasant although fairly routine day. I rode the bus home late that night, nearly midnight, and impulsively got off one stop before I typically do. I walked past a fast food restaurant that is not along my usual route, and noticed my neighbor's car in the parking lot. He noticed me and pulled up next to me, frantic. I'm still not sure of the exact details, but he was talking to his girlfriend on his cellphone while she was in their apartment and she told him that somebody outside was trying the front door knob, and now he couldn't get her on the phone. She was supposed to meet him downstairs after a few minutes, but that had been an hour ago. He's afraid that she'd been kidnapped or worse and now his cell phone isn't working so he was looking for a pay phone so he could call his next door neighbor. Or something. For some reason that I can't quite get a straight answer about, he won't call the cops. Anyway, he's glad to see me, and could I help him check it out?
My neighbor is a nice guy, but he has peculiar habits. He'll spend the night sitting in his car in the parking lot of our apartment complex, drinking beer and doing apparently nothing else. He'll sit there, night after night, apparently all night long. He'll happily talk to anyone who passes, and he watches the parking lot like a hawk -- which, given that we're not in the best part of town, is probably a blessing. He seems like a nice guy, but it's a strange feeling to have someone watching all of your (and everyone else's) comings and goings at all hours of the night. What I'm saying is that he seems like a nice guy, and I generally give him the benefit of the doubt, but I don't entirely trust him. I'm just weird like that.
But he is a nice guy and he does seem genuinely frightened, so I agree to help. I stop by my apartment to grab the only reasonable weapon I can find -- a hammer -- and to make sure that my girlfriend knows what's going on. And to make sure that he knows that she knows what's going on.
We go to his apartment. He calls her name, and there's no response. We try the door. It's locked. He knocks. No answer. He yells her name. No answer. We're debating what to do next, when the door opens and it's her. "Are you okay?" "What's going on? I was just in the bathroom." "For an hour? I was worried that..."
Anyway. Somewhat anticlimactic, but all's well that ends well; I excuse myself and quickly slip away.
...
I told my girlfriendbambina_cricket about all of this, and naturally she was a bit creeped out about the hand. Notably, she remembered me waking her up and asking her about it, although of course she didn't understand the context at the time. She's asked that I include her in any future prayers to dream gods and whatnot. Seems fair enough.
I haven't seen my neighbor around at all, which is peculiar.
This morning my girlfriend woke me up, smiling. She'd been poking around the side of the bed where the hand had come from, and buried beneath everything had found our copy of China Mieville's The Scar. I'd been wanting to read that, so, score!
Anyway, now it's off to bed.
... I need to buy a cricket bat or something.
I got into bed and spent some moments uttering a quiet prayer that had popped into my mind. "God, spirits of the underworld, spirits of the overworld, protect me and grant me safe passage to morning. Protect me and grant me safe passage to morning. Protect me and grant me safe passage to morning..." Then I lay there meditating, focused not on nothing, but upon the phrase "Show me my calling."
Then I fell asleep...
...
I was in front of my apartment complex. There was a large man, abnormally large, enormously large and mishapen. He was absolutely terrified, begging me to protect him, telling me that there was someone out there who was going to kill him. I did not know the creature he spoke of and I do not remember if it had a name, but a palpable sense of menace hung around it -- I was not frightened of it, but I was wary. The large man begged me to seek out this thing at the market (the bazaar?) and kill it. Partly out of a sense of law and partly out of a sense of fear I refused, but told the man that if the creature killed him that I would kill it in revenge, so the threat of that should be enough to keep the man safe. Needless to say, he was totally unconvinced and totally unconsolable.
...
I saw an image of a face, flat and dark and enormous, almost like it had been carved in a granite wall. It moved sluggishly but naturally, like flesh, like any ordinary face would. It seemed benign at the least, and I got the sense that this face, whatever it was, was not the threat.
...
I was in front of my apartment complex. I went up a set of stairs to the apartment across the way, when all of a sudden there was an enormous downpour. Torrential like a monsoon, thick brown water flooding the ground below, palm trees flapping helplessly in the winds. All of a sudden the staircase collapsed, spinning against the second floor juncture like an axis, like some sort of salvage ferris wheel. I was on it for the collapse, and rode it down to the ground, completely unscathed and unconcerned. I don't think I even got wet.
...
I awoke to my cat sitting in front of me, her fur glowing in the morning light. I lay there a minute, next to my sleeping girlfriend, trying to remember my dreams. Out of the corner of my eye I saw a small hand reach across my girlfriend's back, tap me lightly on the head three times, and disappear to where it had come from. I asked my girlfriend if she had just tapped me on the head. She mumbled something about waking her up. I asked again. She mumbled no and went back to sleep. The hand had looked smaller than hers, anyway. I propped myself up, looked around the room for a moment, and saw nothing. My cat started begging me to feed it. I went back to sleep.
...
I awoke into another dream, in front of my apartment complex. It was clear and dry, there had been no rains. I noticed that it was different from the apartment complex in my earlier dreams. I walked up the stairs to my neighbor across the way, and knocked on his door. I explained to him that I'd had a dream in which the stairs had collapsed, and that this might have been a warning -- perhaps about shoddy construction? -- and that he ought to have it checked out. He thanked me, and I left.
...
I had of vision of myself lying in bed, and I could see my naked body covered with long, fine, shallow cuts, like papercuts, that ran along the natural contours of my body -- between my ribs, along my back. I knew them as claw marks, almost certainly from that malevolent being, and I saw what might have been an image of it. Some emaciated, naked humanoid, possibly hunched over, with an almost yellowed flesh stretched taught over its bones and long fingers that tapered into claws.
...
The alarm went off and I woke up. I saw my apartment complex clearly in my mind, and realized that it was not like I had seen it in either of my dreams. I got up, remembering nothing clearly except the hand, remembering that I had had some interesting dreams but struggling to remember exactly what they were. I fed the cats and sat down in a big, soft chair, and meditated for a while. Afterwards I fixed myself a cup of coffee and sat, sipping it, trying to remember my dreams. The memories came this time, which was not surprising -- I often find that meditating first thing in the morning dramatically improves my recollection of the prior night.
Eventually I got dressed and headed to work, and had a pleasant although fairly routine day. I rode the bus home late that night, nearly midnight, and impulsively got off one stop before I typically do. I walked past a fast food restaurant that is not along my usual route, and noticed my neighbor's car in the parking lot. He noticed me and pulled up next to me, frantic. I'm still not sure of the exact details, but he was talking to his girlfriend on his cellphone while she was in their apartment and she told him that somebody outside was trying the front door knob, and now he couldn't get her on the phone. She was supposed to meet him downstairs after a few minutes, but that had been an hour ago. He's afraid that she'd been kidnapped or worse and now his cell phone isn't working so he was looking for a pay phone so he could call his next door neighbor. Or something. For some reason that I can't quite get a straight answer about, he won't call the cops. Anyway, he's glad to see me, and could I help him check it out?
My neighbor is a nice guy, but he has peculiar habits. He'll spend the night sitting in his car in the parking lot of our apartment complex, drinking beer and doing apparently nothing else. He'll sit there, night after night, apparently all night long. He'll happily talk to anyone who passes, and he watches the parking lot like a hawk -- which, given that we're not in the best part of town, is probably a blessing. He seems like a nice guy, but it's a strange feeling to have someone watching all of your (and everyone else's) comings and goings at all hours of the night. What I'm saying is that he seems like a nice guy, and I generally give him the benefit of the doubt, but I don't entirely trust him. I'm just weird like that.
But he is a nice guy and he does seem genuinely frightened, so I agree to help. I stop by my apartment to grab the only reasonable weapon I can find -- a hammer -- and to make sure that my girlfriend knows what's going on. And to make sure that he knows that she knows what's going on.
We go to his apartment. He calls her name, and there's no response. We try the door. It's locked. He knocks. No answer. He yells her name. No answer. We're debating what to do next, when the door opens and it's her. "Are you okay?" "What's going on? I was just in the bathroom." "For an hour? I was worried that..."
Anyway. Somewhat anticlimactic, but all's well that ends well; I excuse myself and quickly slip away.
...
I told my girlfriend
bambina_cricket about all of this, and naturally she was a bit creeped out about the hand. Notably, she remembered me waking her up and asking her about it, although of course she didn't understand the context at the time. She's asked that I include her in any future prayers to dream gods and whatnot. Seems fair enough.I haven't seen my neighbor around at all, which is peculiar.
This morning my girlfriend woke me up, smiling. She'd been poking around the side of the bed where the hand had come from, and buried beneath everything had found our copy of China Mieville's The Scar. I'd been wanting to read that, so, score!
Anyway, now it's off to bed.
... I need to buy a cricket bat or something.
30 March 2005 @ 06:59 pm
A couple of days ago I was reading Ayya Khema's Being Nobody, Going Nowhere and, by chance, stumbled across some Buddhist meditations on death and rebirth.
Yesterday I learned that a tragedy has befallen someone I care about.
Last night I passed an emergency veterinary clinic. I think I will always see such places as houses of death. I mean no disrespect, I think they do what they can and that they do it with compassion and mercy, but I suspect that they are first and foremost gentle ushers into darkness.
The sign in front of the clinic read WHEN IT'S DARK ENOUGH YOU CAN SEE THE STARS
I had a good meditation this morning, and experienced what I believe might be bliss. A little while later I looked in the mirror and saw my right hand for what it is -- a misshapen, attenuated paw.
One of the ways of meditation on death is seeing oneself as a skeleton. Look at it sitting there in the meditative posture. Next take the skeleton apart and lay the bones out one by one. Then let the bones crumble to dust. It takes away some of the ego illusion and the attachment to this body.
Yesterday I learned that a tragedy has befallen someone I care about.
Last night I passed an emergency veterinary clinic. I think I will always see such places as houses of death. I mean no disrespect, I think they do what they can and that they do it with compassion and mercy, but I suspect that they are first and foremost gentle ushers into darkness.
The sign in front of the clinic read WHEN IT'S DARK ENOUGH YOU CAN SEE THE STARS
I had a good meditation this morning, and experienced what I believe might be bliss. A little while later I looked in the mirror and saw my right hand for what it is -- a misshapen, attenuated paw.
25 March 2005 @ 12:52 am
Earlier this week I awoke and stared at my thumb. I flexed the stubby appendage, and for a few moments could only see it as alien and bizarre.
--
Last night I had a dream that I was aboard a galleon, where an older asian man was attempting to teach me the ways of Taoist mysticism. I told him that I was an open-minded skeptic. He seemed disappointed at that comment, and a little annoyed. I feared that I hadn't explained myself clearly -- I was an open-minded skeptic -- but he wasn't interested in my clarifications. Later I realized that I had been perfectly clear, that my very choice to utter such words meant far more than any semantics they might contain, and that the old man had seen right through me.
Watch the intent of your words.
--
Last night I had a dream that I was aboard a galleon, where an older asian man was attempting to teach me the ways of Taoist mysticism. I told him that I was an open-minded skeptic. He seemed disappointed at that comment, and a little annoyed. I feared that I hadn't explained myself clearly -- I was an open-minded skeptic -- but he wasn't interested in my clarifications. Later I realized that I had been perfectly clear, that my very choice to utter such words meant far more than any semantics they might contain, and that the old man had seen right through me.
Watch the intent of your words.
18 March 2005 @ 10:39 am
I had a dream last night that someone was trying to explain the third dimension to me. I had a limited familiarity with it, but the subject was as obscure as the fourth or fifth might be in the waking realm.
I also had a dream that an angry, middle-aged suburbanite was trying to scratch my driver-side window. Probably because I'd just keyed his car.
I also had a dream that an angry, middle-aged suburbanite was trying to scratch my driver-side window. Probably because I'd just keyed his car.
13 January 2005 @ 04:37 am
We're so anesthetized.
I've heard it attributed to agriculture, bureaucracy, religion, literacy, neurochemistry. Early Christian mystery cults and their predecessors went so far as to blame a malevolent, deluded god. Now everybody just blames television. I don't know where it comes from, but it seems to be something pretty fundamental to humanity. Is it unique to humanity? I don't know. I don't know, but it's there, and it's false.
I have moments when I see through it. Brief, brief, brief moments. Every time I do I try to hold on to them, and they just slip away. It could be because I'm trying, but I don't think so.
I just had a moment where I understood where I was. I understood that I was in my apartment, with my girlfriend. I understood her as she was, our relationship as it was. There were no profound revelations or insights, just clarity. For a moment I wasn't thinking about these things, assuming or remembering or acting out of habit. There was just absolute presence, no barriers to the reality of life.
I don't know if most other people have these moments or not, but I've had them for years. At least since I was a teenager, probably all of my life. They're somewhat rare, and usually they're horribly mundane. I most clearly remember back when I worked in retail, suddenly awakening and becoming acutely aware of the absolute, immediate reality that I was explaining the merits of this particular wicker chair to a customer.
I could never explain this thing to others, perhaps because I never quite understood it myself.
I think I may have recently found an analogy that's close to the mark: turn off your television. Look at it. It's an object, to which you are neutral, dispassionate. It's a thing, the same as your sofa or the wall. Turn it on. Turn it on to any station, I don't care -- static might even work. Sit there for a few minutes and attempt to watch the television. Not the program on the television. Attempt to look at the television as an object, just as you did when it was off. It's virtually impossible to avoid getting drawn in. It doesn't end there -- we don't even see the sound stages for what they are, the props for what they are, the actors for what they are... We understand the reality intellectually, but experientially we are hopelessly, hopelessly lost in the illusion.
That analogy is inadequate. It is a horribly loose approximation, arguably deceptively so, but it is the best example that I can articulate. That is how we live our lives. We intellectually understand the realities of our lives -- at least when circumstance presses the issue -- but we rarely if ever experience our lives. We're disconnected. Deluded. Anesthetized. Blinded. Sleeping. Deceived.
Look at the face of another human being. It can be your lifelong partner or an absolute stranger. Look at them, not as their name, not as their role, not as the outline you've become accustomed to, not as a human being at all, but as a creature. Look at them as a creature. Tell me they are not shockingly alien. The pores. The hairs. I don't even know how to describe what eyes look like.
I suspect that most "traditional" concepts of enlightenment -- Taoism, Buddhism, Gnosticism, etc. -- understand this reality and that transcending it is requisite. I think the early existentialists understood this, too. It didn't use to, but now it seems so obvious. Sartre wrote about experiences like these, and lord, if calling a field "existential phenomenology" isn't a hint, I don't know what is. Hell, maybe they didn't. Maybe they came no closer than a glimmer, no closer than I, I don't know. The transcendentalists? Indwelling God, the transparent eye-ball? Whatever, it's not exactly new ground. How could something so fundamental be so lost? How could we be so lost?
I think that some drugs grant brief access to this state. Even some mild ones, like marijuana. But if people experience this spontaneously, if they experience it under chemical influence, if it is central to many of the world's great religions and philosophies, even when contemporary books are being published on "The Power of Now," why still does it seem so rare? Why isn't there a common word for it?
Certainly, it is difficult to articulate, but most experiences are. Loose descriptions lead others to identify, and labels naturally arise. The cliched example is love, or color, but there are countless others. All experience is ultimately indescribable, and one can only point a finger to the proverbial moon. Why, then, should this one experience be such an exception? Why must we reinvent the wheel when we simply notice ourselves?
Of course, a label isn't going to help anyone experience it, but it's going to help them find direction when they do. Why should it take me the better part of three decades to recognize the universality inherent in my own lifelong experience? I'm really puzzled by it. As I sit here and type this, I don't know who will identify with it. Will everyone? Most everyone? Half? A few? Who's most likely to? My intellectual friends? My spiritual friends? My freak friends? I'm sure someone will, but then -- no, I'm not sure. I truly don't know. I just truly don't know.
I've heard it attributed to agriculture, bureaucracy, religion, literacy, neurochemistry. Early Christian mystery cults and their predecessors went so far as to blame a malevolent, deluded god. Now everybody just blames television. I don't know where it comes from, but it seems to be something pretty fundamental to humanity. Is it unique to humanity? I don't know. I don't know, but it's there, and it's false.
I have moments when I see through it. Brief, brief, brief moments. Every time I do I try to hold on to them, and they just slip away. It could be because I'm trying, but I don't think so.
I just had a moment where I understood where I was. I understood that I was in my apartment, with my girlfriend. I understood her as she was, our relationship as it was. There were no profound revelations or insights, just clarity. For a moment I wasn't thinking about these things, assuming or remembering or acting out of habit. There was just absolute presence, no barriers to the reality of life.
I don't know if most other people have these moments or not, but I've had them for years. At least since I was a teenager, probably all of my life. They're somewhat rare, and usually they're horribly mundane. I most clearly remember back when I worked in retail, suddenly awakening and becoming acutely aware of the absolute, immediate reality that I was explaining the merits of this particular wicker chair to a customer.
I could never explain this thing to others, perhaps because I never quite understood it myself.
I think I may have recently found an analogy that's close to the mark: turn off your television. Look at it. It's an object, to which you are neutral, dispassionate. It's a thing, the same as your sofa or the wall. Turn it on. Turn it on to any station, I don't care -- static might even work. Sit there for a few minutes and attempt to watch the television. Not the program on the television. Attempt to look at the television as an object, just as you did when it was off. It's virtually impossible to avoid getting drawn in. It doesn't end there -- we don't even see the sound stages for what they are, the props for what they are, the actors for what they are... We understand the reality intellectually, but experientially we are hopelessly, hopelessly lost in the illusion.
That analogy is inadequate. It is a horribly loose approximation, arguably deceptively so, but it is the best example that I can articulate. That is how we live our lives. We intellectually understand the realities of our lives -- at least when circumstance presses the issue -- but we rarely if ever experience our lives. We're disconnected. Deluded. Anesthetized. Blinded. Sleeping. Deceived.
Look at the face of another human being. It can be your lifelong partner or an absolute stranger. Look at them, not as their name, not as their role, not as the outline you've become accustomed to, not as a human being at all, but as a creature. Look at them as a creature. Tell me they are not shockingly alien. The pores. The hairs. I don't even know how to describe what eyes look like.
I suspect that most "traditional" concepts of enlightenment -- Taoism, Buddhism, Gnosticism, etc. -- understand this reality and that transcending it is requisite. I think the early existentialists understood this, too. It didn't use to, but now it seems so obvious. Sartre wrote about experiences like these, and lord, if calling a field "existential phenomenology" isn't a hint, I don't know what is. Hell, maybe they didn't. Maybe they came no closer than a glimmer, no closer than I, I don't know. The transcendentalists? Indwelling God, the transparent eye-ball? Whatever, it's not exactly new ground. How could something so fundamental be so lost? How could we be so lost?
I think that some drugs grant brief access to this state. Even some mild ones, like marijuana. But if people experience this spontaneously, if they experience it under chemical influence, if it is central to many of the world's great religions and philosophies, even when contemporary books are being published on "The Power of Now," why still does it seem so rare? Why isn't there a common word for it?
Certainly, it is difficult to articulate, but most experiences are. Loose descriptions lead others to identify, and labels naturally arise. The cliched example is love, or color, but there are countless others. All experience is ultimately indescribable, and one can only point a finger to the proverbial moon. Why, then, should this one experience be such an exception? Why must we reinvent the wheel when we simply notice ourselves?
Of course, a label isn't going to help anyone experience it, but it's going to help them find direction when they do. Why should it take me the better part of three decades to recognize the universality inherent in my own lifelong experience? I'm really puzzled by it. As I sit here and type this, I don't know who will identify with it. Will everyone? Most everyone? Half? A few? Who's most likely to? My intellectual friends? My spiritual friends? My freak friends? I'm sure someone will, but then -- no, I'm not sure. I truly don't know. I just truly don't know.