Appearing here in the midst of things,
doesn’t it all seem so vivid and real?
Hard to believe it’s all like a dream,
hard to believe that we are too —
phantom figments, ghostly apparitions
without substance or lasting endurance.
Why is that so hard to believe?
It’s hard to believe because
it is not really true.
It’s just another made-up story,
another shifting point of view.
No view is true, nor any belief,
even the ones which we hold dear.
Since nothing here is certain
let’s fall in love with uncertainty,
it beats our neurotic romance with fear.
Just don’t get caught, that is all —
don’t get caught in any view.
Relax and enjoy the view or not,
it’s up to you, to view or not,
to believe or not, just
don’t get caught.
Notice how our opinion of things
changes like the weather.
Every time we look in the mirror
we see somebody different.
Maybe we’re in love today, or maybe
we want to settle some grudge, exercise
the nuclear option on an imaginary offender.
When we take our views seriously, life itself
responds by switching from fluid to solid.
It happens automatically:
the walls go up, now they’re closing in,
the sun has slipped behind the clouds,
the deck seems stacked against us.
Regardless of our deity of choice,
our prayers will go unanswered.
We gravitate towards despair,
why does life seem so unfair?
Perhaps we’ve heard about it,
maybe read about it too —
is this the famous dark soul night
the holy ones must all pass through?
Beyond our self-important vanities,
there’s something here to contemplate:
although we may seem miserable,
in fact we secretly love such fate.
After all, misery does have an upside —
it confirms our personal existence
the more forlorn we feel.
“Just look at me, wearing a frown —
I’m so lonesome I must be real!”
We wonder if things are sacred or not.
Does life have a special meaning?
Depending on our current view,
we may think so or not.
No matter what we happen to think,
we are always already mistaken.
Nothing here is really what it seems
and yet it is not different, nor can it be
explained away by names attributed to it.
Even imaginary things have their own beauty.
Every empty illusion is another version of truth.
We say there’s a face behind every mask,
but the mask itself is also the face.
We bathe in the sea of our own grace!
Before we arrived, everything shone
with its own sacred light.
Why do we bother showing up?
Because we are already shining,
even here, in the depths of the night.