Born Into Confusion

Waking up we many times find ourselves in a strange and unusual world where we are well outside of it's push and pull and thereby completely free of it's effects. As we gaze upon the lands of our birth our attention wanders and as it wanders we slowly become interested in one thing after another. Each and every wonder of our sense relays to us new experience which we suddenly develop a liking for. These new expressions overtake us as we inspect and come to relish their effects.

Eventually we lose our individuality and become a seeking machine rooting out all that is new and interesting. No longer are we separate and apart from our desires but fully become them. As time now marches on we forget our heritage and birthright, all lost to our diaspora. As we become homeward bound we embark on but another journey travelling the universe ever looking and searching for a way out.

How is there to be a way out when we each create our own way in? Do others, as Kings and Queens, hold sway over us and are responsible for the life we lead? Are there other gods in this universe besides we, ourselves, whose reign of power envelops us?

Questing for ever lasting life, we deny our immortality and so succumb to human desire. As we make our way down the road of our own making we pretend that our image travels it and experiences all that is to be experienced. Engaged in whole hearted deception, our plaything becomes all that there is and must be protected, nurtured and cared for with the most genuine of affinity.

But are not all graven images nothing but imaginary play, a turning away from the reality we so obviously are aware of? Why must we run so hard and so fast in order to make ourselves detached from our immortality and thereby become fixed in perpetuity, all for naught? Strange it is that we must expend so much effort in breaking our own bonds, which we ourselves forged. What dementia! Is it any wonder that logical thought, despite its ineptitude, is so ruthlessly pursued?

Leading one's self out of the forest of our own captivity does not require the same path as which we led ourselves in with. As escape is not an option surely something completely different is in order. Something completely so new to our experience that it goes well above and beyond it. How does one describe the experience of something which cannot possibly be contained within it? Will childish simplicity make sense to the logical mind of experiential imaginings?

If we are born into confusion then in confusion we will die only to be reborn again and again seeking and rooting out the answer to all our woes and concerns. But exactly what are our concerns? If we place importance upon our environment, in our compartmentalization of attention, we will surely miss all that so obviously appears for us to divine.

As a rule, confusion is to be relegated to antiquity by simply discovering a stable or true basis upon which all other data is to be evaluated. Once the core of truth is established, confusion become nonexistent.

As mankind is currently quite confused and afloat in it's own misery we can surely deduce that man currently has no core of truth. He has lost his way. From globalists to pious religions to gossip mongers, all have surely lost their way and have deemed their birthright of confusion to be memorial. How is it that with such fervent interest in things none have fallen prey to the truth within?

One cannot serve two Masters. If we are to place ourselves into the hands of experience, of living life to it's mysterious fullness, then that becomes our all, our Master. On the other hand, if we destroy our own self image and take refuge in the truth of our own nature, we come to find that we serve but the true Master of masters.

To clarify, when we destroy our own self image, it means that we come to find all that we are not and so remain as we really are. The more that we project or overlay ourselves upon those things exterior to our perception, the more that we fall prey to those very same things. In short, it's called experience and yes we do so very much reap what we sow.

And so, we plant the seed of hope that one day we will come to know of our own true nature and thereby free our selves from our own worst nightmare.

Is it any wonder that we are born into confusion? Is it any wonder that we continuously point out the way for experience to take us? Our true nature beckons us ever onward. Do you hear the call?

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