Speaking With The Dead

Bodily existence can be such a drag. In fact, it is so cumbersome that most people on this planet nurture a 'natural' tendency to inhibit all that which will go beyond the physical. Enveloped in the pain and suffering of a bodily existence, who would dare to move beyond it in order to actually see? All attention becomes focused upon the center of the universe; that little organism which finds itself lost and alone in the vast, vast ocean of physicality. The body becomes all that there is.

But are we not forgetting something?

It is not the body which defines us. It is not the body which gives us purpose and meaning. It is not the body but we, ourselves, who have an infinite existence. In fact it is not the identity at all but something much, much greater.

How easy it is for us to fall prey to every trick and trap when we have so firmly cemented our existence with a physical object. Importance is only defined by the amount of attention we place upon an external point, any point, in space. Whether that point is a favorite arm chair, a hair style, some tasty food dish, or perhaps a body - our own or not, means little. These power points become all encompassing and come to rule the days of our lives.

How does it feel to be a slave to your own importance?

Beyond our own self-importance lies a world waiting to be 'discovered'. When a body passes away and returns to the Earth where is it that we go? If one is indeed a spiritual being, where is it that we go and what is it that we do after the fall of Rome? How interesting it is that answers are not forthcoming when our bodily existence rules us with such an iron fist. And to think that we are free!

Whether a spiritual being turns on the lights in a body and turns them off, it's existence is complete. Whether a spiritual being even has a body at all makes no difference to it. Communicating with spiritual beings is best left to spiritual beings. For everyone else, there is the telephone.

Are we all so enamored with our precious bodies that our entire lives are devoted to it and it alone? Is this why we pursue careers, accumulate 'wealth' and vacation at all the 'best' spots? Are we so consumed with running away from our natural and innate tendencies that we will go to great lengths to ensure everyone else is?

How far we have fallen into our own depths of degradation. We can try to blame it all on our 'Masters' but irresponsibility never did become us. We might as well pretend that we are all playing our parts in some huge masquerade ball waiting for the midnight hour to befall us. Unfortunately, when the bell tolls it rings loud and clear.

Discovering our selves is neither an adventure nor a high-minded goal. We are what we are and through all the deviousness of our devices we fervently attempt to hide our nature just the same as when we follow others into the depths of their own hell so that we can lay claim to our own.

Logic has nothing to do with it, obviously. We can talk all we want with the dead in our imagination but when it comes to reality, there is nothing left for us but emptiness. And so we find ourselves out of touch with all that there is. We can speak to no one and so no one speaks to us. Our ears do not hear and so we hear the roar of our own thoughts and imaginings and nothing else. Can this be the despair to which we have assigned ourselves?

Moving beyond the home we call our body requires much more than just saying that we are not that. One must have a deep and complete understanding or else this too will become nothing but another shallow adventure out into the universe we call dangerous. When we begin to realize that we are the master and the slave all rolled into one perhaps, just perhaps, we will come to open our eyes just enough to peek behind the veil of life and realize that our existence breaks all bounds.

Our existence breaks all bounds.

Imagine how extremely difficult it is for us to come to believe and live the opposite. If we were to fall prey to such lunacy we would be as good as dead walking the Earth in search of our souls. No wonder religion is such a loved and abhorred adventure in life.

As we tighten our bindings we attempt to contain that which cannot be contained and so we find ourselves listening exteriorly in complete contrast to the depth and breath of infinite knowledge and understanding which we call home. In this respect we have already left home and so continue to wander the wasteland in search of it. The only trouble is that we will never find it outside of ourselves.

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