A Tepid Applause for Shameless Mimicry

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.

unconditional-love1

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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About Bob OHearn

My name is Bob O'Hearn, and I live with my Beloved Mate, Mazie, in the foothills of the Northern California Sierra Nevada Mountains. I have several other sites you may enjoy: Photo Gallery: http://www.pbase.com/1heart Essays on the Conscious Process: http://theconsciousprocess.wordpress.com/ Poetry and Prosetry: https://feelingtoinfinity.wordpress.com/ Writings from selected Western Mystics, Classic and Modern: https://westernmystics.wordpress.com/ https://freetransliterations.wordpress.com/ Wisdom of a Spirit Guide: https://spiritguidesparrow.wordpress.com/ Thank You!
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2 Responses to A Tepid Applause for Shameless Mimicry

  1. Sky McCain says:

    Carlos Castenada was severely discredited years ago and seldom appears in the media or is quoted. However, be that as it may, I personally find value in what he has written. For instance:

    “The life of a warrior cannot possibly be cold and lonely and without feelings, because it is based on his affection, his devotion, his dedication to his beloved… The Earth knows that he loves it, and it bestows on him its care. That’s why his life is filled to the brim and his state, wherever he’ll be, will be plentiful. He roams on the paths of his love… This Earth… Only if one loves this Earth with unbending passion, can one release one’s sadness. A warrior is always joyful, because his love is unalterable and his beloved, the Earth, embraces him and bestows upon him inconceivable gifts. The sadness belongs only to those who hate the very thing that gives shelter to their beings. This lovely Being, which is alive to its last recesses and understands every feeling, soothed me, it cured me of my pains, and finally when I had fully understood my love for it, it taught me freedom. Only the love for this splendorous Being can give freedom to a warrior’s spirit; and freedom is joy, efficiency, and abandon in the face of any odds.”
    Tales of Power Carlos Castenada

    And pertinent to your message, I submit a quote that I find very satisfying to me. Yes, “the world is a mirror of our attitudes toward it” so why not engage deeply why we are here? I think you generally agree and I feel your love of life in your writing.

    “…Nothing being more important than anything else, a man of knowledge chooses any act, and acts it out as if it matters to him. His controlled folly makes him say that what he does matters and makes him act as if it did, and yet he knows that it doesn’t; so when he fulfils his acts he retreats in peace, and whether his acts were good or bad, or worked or didn’t, is no way part of his concern.” A Separate Reality, Carlos Castaneda, 1971, pg. 85

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