|Here's a very long post, I do not mention Rawat once, it's all not about him.|
Peace at any price is not a good idea. It matters how you make it.
I believe in love.
I have always known it’s the most important thing, even more than food and that’s saying something.
I saw the last part of one of those science shows on the telly. Brian Cox was discussing the theories of the end of the universe with a few people. At the end of the day we were in a universe that was an expanding hole in a slab of swiss cheese.
Inescapable really, the idea that just like there are lots of rabbits there are lots of universes. Annoying really, to someone who likes words – what do they think the damn word means? The universe is the slab of swiss cheese and don’t tell me there’s other slabs of swiss cheese or I’ll tell you they’re all part of the universe too. Keep me happy – give me multi-verses if you like but not multi-universes.
I have to admit - that slab of swiss cheese is sounding rather like a slab of flesh to me. Our reality, the stars in the night sky, all the way to the outer reaches of the known universe and beyond, really could be a single molecule in the flesh of a giant.
We really don’t know what we are a part of. We’re all agreed about that.
But we do have our instincts.
We got ideas we got theories we got feelings in our waters, we got beliefs and by god we have convictions. What we have is in our blood.
I have this sense that at some point way back in the mists, when procreation started to need two sexes, it was a storage issue that caused it - I trust you to keep track of this and I will keep track of that. Between us we got this thing covered.
I don’t really believe in mathematics. I mean what about pi – a number you can’t reach the end of. It all seems to get a bit wobbly and messed up round the edges and all these engineering feats the telescopes and rocket ships and bionic ears – the list is massive, terrifying, soul destroying – it’s all ill-gotten gains. Wait til you get to the bottom of pi, I say, before you make your mark on the world.
I believe in us. I tend to believe that we know what we’re doing when we don’t know what we’re doing.
Okay, maybe I do believe in mathematics – the uncanny precision of those effortless calculations we make without thinking. Just don’t get the ruler out and second guess yourself.
To believe in someone, to trust, having faith in them is, I think, the greatest gift you can give.
This very big something happening that we are such a very small part of – we got our feelings about it. Somehow it matters. It feels sentient. When I am dying, when the blood no longer pumps and I am cooling, I know from experience I will turn to the warmth of that sentience and feel the loving embrace that is mine.
Why that feeling that there is a love that is forever. Is that true? I believe it but what sort of true is it.
Much as we know about dying, dead is different. We’re not sure what that will be like at all really are we. There is ‘the visitation’ - many people experience having a conversation with a dead loved one two days after they’ve died. Many people experience a guardian angel effect for years to follow – one that can even find you a parking spot. But it’s not cut and dried, is it. We really don’t know if it’s a sign there is a soul-life after death, or a phenomena of memory in the living. Or even a state of flux with a bit of both.
More or less I think what I believe is in living souls. Dead, I mean dead gets to the bit where even your family doesn’t know you have ever existed. But people talk about seeing their child’s soul at conception. I believe them, it‘s an interesting wrinkle isn’t it. At conception? Like a fairy flying in the window - does that soul have a pre-existence, or was that a picture made from one of those awesome calculations, one that shows what is coming from what had just occurred.
In honour of Aslan, I call it the deep magic. To me all these experiences come from a carpet under the forest, a deep down pulse of life that begs to be obeyed.
From the back of my mind comes that butterfly in the Amazon, one beat of it’s wing causing who knows what - what is it like for the butterfly? It’s feeling the air, it’s in touch with something that is all round the planet, but mainly, it is feeling for the air beneath it’s wing.
|Previous||View All Current page||Next|
|Replies to this message|