Ghosts in the Music

The whole world is a wild game of musical chairs. While the music is playing, everything is turning into something else, everything constantly interpenetrates itself in kaleidoscopic formations, chameleon changes in a fun house of mirrors, but then the music suddenly stops. We don’t notice it, because we are still enamored and beguiled by how we look today in the mirror, but somewhere thousands of ghosts are now out of their bodies and trying to make sense of the new developments.

We are just like the ghosts, but still in these fleshy costumes, still in the musical game, and even if we suspect that the tune will someday stop playing for us, we try not to think about that. The ghosts were like us once — enjoying the game, moving from chair to chair, talking about politics, weather, pets, perfumes, famous people who seem to get a little older every time their pictures are published, and of course what’s for lunch.

The newly disembodied don’t care about any of that. Now they are finished with talking. What is there left to say? They walk along with us for a little while, they are happy for us, but they know something now, something that they would like to share, but it’s too late for that. We are going to have to find out for ourselves. That’s how this game is played.

Many players imagine that appearing in this game is rather serious, and not to be taken lightly. They are mistaken — it is just a game. We came to play. Why complicate something so simple? The ghosts themselves are moving into a new game. If there is a name for it, they can’t tell us, because the music here in the fun house has our complete attention, and now they have other things to do anyway — places to go and new fun to enjoy.

Some of us future ghosts might complain that the fun house here isn’t much fun — there is sickness, old age, and death to come. Perhaps they may even start a religion, offering liberation from the game. It seems they don’t realize that religion is one of the musical chairs too, but I won’t say it, if you won’t too. We still have plenty of things to do while everything is turning into something else, interpenetrating itself in kaleidoscopic formations, chameleon changes in a fun house of mirrors, at least until the music stops.


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 a number of blog sites you may enjoy: Photo Gallery: Essays on the Conscious Process: Compiled Poetry and Prosetry: Verses and ramblings on life as it is: Verses and Variations on the Investigation of Mind Nature: Verses on the Play of Consciousness: Poetic Fiction, Fable, Fantabulation: Poems of the Mountain Hermit: Love Poems from The Book of Yes: Autobiographical Fragments, Memories, Stories, and Tall Tales: Ancient and modern spiritual texts, creatively refreshed: Writings from selected Western Mystics, Classic and Modern: Wisdom of a Spirit Guide: Thank You!
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