From heaven to hell our route consumes us in our quest of movement through time and space. Where we go and what we have done comes to mean little as we dive head first into the next action scene of our devising. Strange as it seems, we do indeed create the feet to tread the path we lay before us. Is it any comfort to know that as we look ahead the horizon expands and as well look behind the horizon fades. Coming or going its all the same thing.
Humans tend to do and say the darnedest things but that is nothing in comparison to our spiritual efforts. Hands down we win even time - even when we appear to lose. Our love of life knows no bounds and in this nether region of existence only our time of here and now becomes important. Leaving all else behind we pretend to move ahead unaffected. So much for the here and now.
As we eke out a small tiny corner of the universe in which to make good on our definition of living we refuse all comers. Improving our lot in life is not something to be contemplated as we embrace the characteristics of our living. Enjoying the benefits of our past benefits, we suffer and blame it all on the closest neighbors down the road as they too, do the same.
In company we find our place in life and remain so rooted. Of course we will kill all messengers sent our way as it is not only our right, but our duty to ourselves as well. There is no route we can follow to escape our own ends as we are already on it and so pay the additional price for taking a few more detours along the way. What does one more cul-de-sac matter when we are already so full of them? Thus thinking, we dig deeper into a despair which we find comfortable since it has so long been with us along the way.
In our conquest of exterior motives perhaps time has unravelled enough to where we can begin to see that no matter the number of repeating patterns, they do not make reality, we do. In our lack of limitation we do indeed know no bounds and so we attempt to contain a forever in which to play out an existence we call ‘me’. Among the contenders of me, myself and I, me has won hands down. But the greatest story ever told has not yet ended.
In the spirit of play we create the spirit in order to define ‘play’. Behind conceptualization lies neither an absence nor a fullfillment. It’s true that one is completely unable to reach decisional attributes without the existence of an underlying phenomenon. But who are we fooling when we think a thought and so become that thought when it comes to ‘forgetting’ our nature?
If that doesn’t tickle a funny bone somewhere deep within the recesses of eternity nothing will. But perhaps nothing has already happened in which case - never mind.