21 May 2008

Les Neiges Eternelles


Never do we see what is outside - we see what is inside.

Never do we see the world as it is - we see the world as we are.

Salmon Rushdie said of The Satanic Verses: “… there was a hole inside me where God used to be ... and I wanted to explore this hole.''

Novels explore, words explore, humans explore their world, and so on. We pick up sticks, copy other humans and beat paths. During the exploration process there has always been a ready supply of resources and tools. Like our ancestors, we continue to grab hold of things, quite innately in hindsight, and continue about forging and lumbering into new, yet oddly familiar landscapes, ushered to the next frontier on arcs of reinforced ideas and solid understandings. Hacking, pounding, labeling, grappling. Here we have made our way through prehistory, and plunk down in modern day we are still thrashing about in wading pools of perception and dollhouse constructs. Here we remain still, bouncing like a pinball through constellations of others finite realities and scrambling in superstitions.

Trickles of filtered information reach us through our senses, and the mind categorizes the bit of sensory information as this or that, and projects it back out onto a finite cave wall that we are comfortable directing. Driven to find patterns, we see them where they are not, or miss them entirely. It is a narrative we guard with our lives, quite literally, as history continues to reveal. We, in turn, subjectively observe our concepts, measuring and sorting what comes next against what has come before - what doesn't fit is awkward, uncomfortable.

What do we see in dreamy shapes projected by the mind onto the small screen of individual existence? What can we glean from just one narrative? Not so much, at the end of day, at least not so much new, and a lot of familiar and then all those unpredictables that don't fit are collected in a superstitious intuitive stew.

Quite suddenly a finite tiny existence blazes before us where we sit with eyes blinking in the face of a ginormous infinite ‘out there’ that could never in a gazillion years be made to fit into a ‘right’ or ‘wrong’ cabinet in the filing system of the mind. Gazing on high for answers to come crashing in lightening and shooting stars - not seeing the crashing lightening and shooting stars in all their sobering awe-inspiring glory whispering about IT.

We are ensconced in ways that we have forged– arrived to and stuck in places of thinking within which we exist, but cannot see out of.

What is it then that cuts and glides through the flotsam and debris of the mind to break against greater awareness and expanded perception? It is not to name a 'God' that man has deduced to exist – a some ‘thing’ or a some ‘one’ greater than ourselves. Not the forger of Self - a self that was forged innately for the most part, on a magnificent canvas of adaptability and evolution, within the nature in which it was raised, and through which by way of its very own senses, was introduced to mind and to the minds of the humanity to which he belongs, and thus named out of sheer insecurity, for better or worse - GOD.

No, not that God that we have deemed more clever than ourselves, more handy, quite omniscient, simply forgiving, and so much better and beyond our own capacities, our rudimentary pestle and mortar mind that thuds away at the shape and form of humanity, and which we find time and again to be such an amazingly suitable habitat as to deduce it to have been divinely engineered. No, not that.

No, my dear sweet personal savior God is One I refer to fondly as interconnectedness and awareness. A One that has revealed wonder in inspired bursts to an inquiring, thoughtful mind. This god bursts forth from a pinprick of a light burned through a smoldering of inquisitiveness fanned here and there, rained-on, but with determined glowing inside the inner projection booth.

But this Godliness in all things, a Godliness of existence itself, appears to man in the form of the fruits of interdependence, and in this grand system, man struggles to recognize himself as part of IT.

When other mysteries appear to our senses with an offering of knowledge, we cannot always speak the language, cannot always fit their form to our wordy mind. Like gazing at ‘les neiges eternelles’, we cannot discern other frozen mountains and a finite horizon frozen in descriptive words and ideas like ‘snow’ and ‘frozen’ and ‘mountain’ and ‘horizon’.

We, like mountains ensconced in les neiges eternelles, the eternal snow, know limitations, know the ‘rightness’ of being frozen and moving at a mountains pace, know the rightness of God-lost, God-found, and God-lost again.

But, if we can gain glimmers of awareness – which means if we begin to feel we are interconnected, begin to understand for ourselves that a rock and a mountain are inexplicable miracles - then we find we in fact do know miracles, do know God. We need no medium to speak on their behalf, no spiritual guide to decipher a Message, no regulated God to grant us the vision of seeing the beauty of life to which we all belong.

Through an exploration of truth - good and bad, beautiful and ugly, comfortable or disconcerting - we begin to know Godness unbound.


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