He launches a small boat out onto the dark water, trolling for words and phrases. He is soon surrounded by poetry, but the kind that resists any facile translation. Dark shapes of things glide just below the surface, but never seemed to reveal themselves. For the purposes of this story, let them remain unidentified, just vague apparitions that nevertheless contribute in their own way to the general atmosphere.
They say the body can go a lot longer without food than it can without water, but there is something even dearer than that. Because it is so common, we don’t even notice it. On the other hand, if we stopped to ponder how the bio-vehicle itself functions without our personal design or consent, we might never cease praising its very existence! It breathes by itself, we don’t need to prompt it, nor do we need to pump our own blood or replace dying cells. It all happens automatically, as do thoughts, emotions, sensations, and perceptions.
Nevertheless, having taken birth in this realm, we are so densely packed into a virtual amnesia suit that even brilliant spiritual insights can barely penetrate the organism, but quickly fade into a kind of intellectualized memory fragment, distorted by all the subconscious flotsam that swirls along the neural canals. It seems to be the cost of doing business at this vibrational frequency, in which all of our cherished notions and beliefs amount to nothing more than a comic book of empty fiction.
Now back to the story.
Although nothing objective exists outside of conceptual designations, a phantom is chasing a mirage in the midst of a dream, and he wants to document the various details. Blinded himself, he struggles to describe sight to the deaf. Without a sense of humor, this would all seem rather sad, but there’s no room for self-pity when the self itself is merely a mental construct, a prop in a plot without any inherent solidity. Let’s just say for the sake of this narrative that it is one of those vague apparitions gliding beneath the surface which nevertheless contribute metaphorically to the general atmosphere.
After all, it can be a lot of fun to probe into those obscure matters which teasingly exceed our comprehension, and in fact that is a sport which we love, going beyond our limits in any way we can. In this sense, we are like children, and so we need to love each other, because we are in the midst of an enormous and intimidating unknown, and prone to fear and stricken facial expressions. Consequently, to love and comfort and help each other is just the right thing to do, even if there are no others, no world, nor a single word in the vastness of space to constitute a story.