Journey Far And Wide
Stretching across the known and unknown universe, the journeying of the thing we call 'us' or 'I' is a long one indeed. Here, the mapping out of our 'fall' from Grace is described and foretold.
From out of the center all things come to be, including our own sense of being. We know that we are and give it no mind, but in understanding we fall far, far short. Trying to trace the route back home, from the standpoint of our present day immersive experience, comes to be quite impossible. We cannot return whence we came simply because after a while, the trail disappears. In this disappearance we must either let go of our sense of self, or cloak ourselves further because once we become even faintly aware that we are not all that we appear to be, we must either face the consequences or reap the rewards. The killing of our sense of being requires one to face death with open arms. Who in their right mind would contemplate such a dark and dangerous proposition? And that is exactly where one wants to be - coming face-to-face with one's tenuous hold onto a reality that is pure fiction.
Reality is such a shallow, narrow concept in which we exercise our right of entertainment. In this play, our special sandbox in which to find full-fillment, we endeavor to find the fruition of our beingness, of completing our journey despite the fact that we have no memory of who or what we really are. This, in itself, is quite an amazing feat of engineering!
In so twisting our perception, it becomes the reality within which we exhibit our beingness in order "to be". In this never ending process of seeking and enveloping a promising future, we reach out to touch the stars of our own making. It is true, we do indeed create the reality within which we find comfort and glee.
Beingness is nothing but an image of who or what we really are. In this creation there is, of course, a creator and it is to this that beingness owes it's existence. In fact, we are the creator and the created but in thus viewing the appearance we objectify it's nature and let it slip through our fingers. We cannot and never will become the idea we create. All these things come out of or are a result of who or what we really are. In creating the idea of our selves, we create the beingness and so embark on the journey "to be". Never ever will the journey end because we simply are incapable of discovering or "finding" our selves. We are that we are and that is that!
We can lose the car keys and so undertake the route of discovery but since we embody both, the object and that within which it finds perspective, it comes to be a cat and mouse game. We look in the mirror and say "Who are you?". Ignorance prides itself on intelligence.
In this computational world of existence we find the opportunity to express our beingness but this idea is not quite correct. Beingess, but it's very nature, creates the universe at the very moment of it's appearance. When we come "to be", in this future-tense ideological philosophical mumbo-jumbo, we map out the infinitesimal variation of our selves in comparison to a few set-in-stone characteristics of what that beingness embodies. Since the beingness cannot embody all that is, it is left with just a few choices from the menu. One from column "A" and two from column "B". Mixing and combining, we lay out the sense of being and give it definition and thereupon let it loose upon the land in order to bring about a well developed experiential play of beingess. This beingness, in finding it's relation to all else, comes to see it's own true nature and in this finding the realization is made that it is not all that it is cracked up to be. There is so much more to who or what we really are than the expression of any and all concepts that are produced.
The never ending play of experience does not ever need to end but sometimes, the beingness gets side-swiped. It gets a glimpse into the 'hereafter', into the nature of it's own make-up. Though fleeting, it's mark is ever lasting. How could it ever be otherwise when we are all that we survey?
For the sake of it's own survival, the beingness most likely will run like hell and never look back. In continuing to pursue it's own hopes and dreams, reality recedes into the background. That is the best that we can do, relegate reality to another time, another place, to pretend that it has no existence right now. The reality that is embraced is nothing but another idea sprung from the depths of our sense of being. In so calling it 'real' we create the illusion of apparency in which we find purpose and being. Of course there would be purpose and being because we make it so! Without a beingness in which expression takes root no ideation exists to shape and form any type of reality. We are that we are and what is, is.
Despite the fact that this appears contrary to our sense of self, it is. No only do we embody the experiences we find pleasurable, we also embody the pain and suffering without which we cannot continue to live the life of being, of the survival of ideas. To know happiness our beingness must embrace unhappiness. Since beingness is the separation of ourselves from all else in order to obtain definition, by default we create a duality which is the glue that holds the sense of self together. In so binding ourselves we seek one thing or another in order to bring about a simulated state of stimulus, pretending that it arrives outside of ourselves. "To feel is to know that one lives." Beingness is nothing but a sense of who or what we are. Not of who or what we really are, but of just the fullfillment of a characteristic hodge-podge in which to act out the stage play of life and living.
As our sense of beingess changes to suit the image we have of ourselves, we add and subtract characteristics as we wish and yet gain and lose nothing. We still remain as we are though we change our clothes to fit our needs. It is true, need gives beingness purpose and plan because beingness is the definition of need and want. When we perceive that we lack, we seek. When we perceive that we are full-filled, we divert our attention to that which we lack. We are never satisfied nor can we be. Beingness, as the expression of definition, can never be satisfied, full-filled nor complete in any regard. In it's polarity, it survives and this it knows full well. But in this false sense knowingness, like all else, though it takes refuge it can never find a home. It is not meant to because where ever one looks, there one is.
Behind every beingness lies one's true nature. Within every beingness lies one's true nature. We are, so all is. Though a beingness is the expression of definition, that beingness is fully capable of acquiring a peek behind the closed door, of coming face-to-face with it's own Nature.
In pretending we create a false image of what is. In illusion we find the spirit of play, the seeking and obtaining of just rewards. Like all great plays there is a beginning, a middle and an end. A definition has a beginning, a middle and an end but since the definition is not the thing itself, this is all pretty pointless to begin with. :-)
