The Human Form
Being human is no different than a spiritual being. Being one thing or another is just that - going to the costume party in full regalia. We are what we are so delving into one’s nature seems if not downright silly then at least worthy of quite a bit of inattention. Who cares what lies behind the mask when we are so busy being me. Who can spare a dime’s interest in exploring the costume’s owner when we all already fully know. Taking on the mantle of being is not called stupidity, it is a fully accomplished undertaking. We do understand what we are doing and just because our being requires us to offer alternative views does not mean that we are destitute nor dying of ignorance. We are in the midst of an on-going costume party shall you spoil it by pretending otherwise? The invitation to join did not go unanswered so what’s the beef? Do you really believe that the human being is any different that being lazy, contrite or even ‘spiritually free’?
It is considered bad manners to go to a costume party and insist that those behind the mask of identity are not really who they say they are but are who you know that they are. It’s not Batman but Fred. Perhaps this would be a good time to take out insurance against ‘identity theft’.
Eventually it becomes obvious that the costume party, created by a very gracious host, requires that consciousness become humanized with only one to a customer. Controlling the effects of being is a full time job and so to make it just a tad easier on the plantation owner, you know - for administration purposes, each being must be accountable for their presence. No cheating is allowed, you know - “help us to help you”. Dutifully complying the ‘guests’ acquiesce because it is after all someone else’s party and respect must be placed appropriately lest the host embarrass one by reminding us of such. Upon the stage of life and living the actors, in full dress, play out their parts.
Is identification like squeezing a size 10 foot into a 9-sized shoe? How does one compress consciousness into some thing? Is it even possible? Why would one do something like that and put a smile on one’s face and say “I’m fine.”? Clearly something is afoot.
As the social ripples make their way through the costumed crowd identities play out their role. Is this not the place for such? Where evil reigns justice prevails. Or does it? Where actors in full dress endure their roles sooner or later the costumers do come off. But what happens then? Do we just blindly assume but another identity, another costume in which to have a medium of expression? What is it that we are actually expressing?
While we enjoy the festivities deep into the night sooner or later the dawn breaks and payment in full is received. Is this but another form of truth or consequence? Do our actions create the consequence with which we find comfort in order to provide the impetus to do even more? Where is the balance of sanity in providing us a glimpse of who or what we really are? In so becoming enamored with our identity can there be anything else of such grand and glorious importance? In thus separating ourselves we create the being of our choosing and reap the consequence. Isn’t that the point of becoming - to get something?
Acquisition requires lack and so in order to achieve one’s hopes and dreams we are left with being destitute, we are left with dying in order to keep the game of life and living alive. It’s one hell of a party so we must all do our part in procreation, in keeping the dream alive. But what happens when someone comes along and turns out the lights? Yes, there are plenty of security measures designed and implemented to ensure that that will never happen but who is to say? In following the dream we become enamored with our own sense of importance and so we tend to step up to the plate so that we can bat that stupid little ball all the way to China and back. Attention is funny that way. Off it goes into the wild blue yonder but like all dogs that chase their tail the end is always nigh.
And so it is.
- 16 Feb 2012 11:43 | added last two paragraphs