The Cosmic Egg, The Amniotic Sac - "Accept it all and we can all go home"
Fingers typing directly in rhythm and communication with my heart, with the om - the proverbial and primordial om - the vibration of life that moves through us all. Is this not the amniotic sac? Is this not the substance that we exist within, gyrating and jittering so that each and every one of us is affected deeply, profoundly. The vibration is energy and it moves us because we move each other. We are part of a “one.” We are the cells within a larger organism and, in knowing that and accepting it, we realize that within this gelatinous, electric, dendritic system, we manifest every single aspect of our lives. Collectively. We design ourselves and, in doing so, we design each other, our reality, as it appears in front of us, through distant signals.
Am I coming in clear?
Can you see me?
Can you hear me?
Am I reaching you?
I feel the meticulous design of every pulse and impulse.
I am this.
I am that.
I am not this, I am not even this
thought.
I consume myself. I consume it. Then I leave this body and continue on to the next. My life is a show that rotates before me in a beautiful dance. Often chaotic, but then there emerges this other life, within the current one, and I can be there, within it, instantaneously. I lived it. It was long ago, but it can also be now. Nothing exists in the goo. It may all be screentime, all of it. It all happens at once and it plays out before us, but time is meaningless, just a way of looking closer. We are looking closer and closer, are we not?
I sift and seek through the sands of a duneless beach on the gulf. My eye trained to detect and retrieve fossilized shark teeth. I spend hours searching, head buried in the sand. I look out to the horizon and incorrectly picture distant lands and peoples. I dance in the sheer nightgown my grandmother hand-stitched for me. They stay in all day, backs to the beach, with thick curtains keeping the sun from interrupting long viewings of the television.
This is paradise.
I seek throughout my life. For what? I have no idea. I miscarry and I drive 2 hours and hike 2 hours to walk a beach that was once an ancient sea, looking for shark teeth on a new turf. I cover my childhood walls with photographs of my friends. I cover my adulthood walls with photographs of surfaces, looking for something hidden deep inside. The micro in a macro lens. As above, so below. What is reflected in one thing is reflected in all things. I try desperately to use my senses, my looking, to find myself stepping through a portal into deeper meaning, my purpose, my truth. It will not come in words. It will not come. And so I imagine new space, new open space beckoning me on. Longing and calling and answering the call. For what? For what? It’s a rorschach test. I am the subject. I don’t need to get out of my own way; I need to stop censoring myself. Allow the thoughts to be clouds passing over the sky of my consciousness, my witness. I witness me.
I witness this life. I am here, I am now, I am eternal, but not in the way that I think. Because that’s just it, thinking is inherently not who you, or I, are. Nothing will ever be as you thought it was because your first mistake was in thinking at all. That is original sin. We ate of the tree of knowledge of good and evil. We deigned to judge this universe and sort it into 2 piles. God, flabbergasted, realizes it must be done, and they accept the judgement of their creation by being the creation, every corner of it. They play it out, both sides, totally and utterly, thoroughly, completely. They are in it all. All of it. Accept it all and we can all go home. Come to accept every single part of yourself, the goo, your other gyrating cells all around you - all you. The water is thick with veins, the dendritic sequence is following its divine geometry with precision and perfection... as god moves upon the waters. We sing. We flow. We dance. We are Leela. And we shall love it and die and love it all over again. To love every corner before we can finally squeeze through the door to the unknown. Ok, god, we have the final tally. We have it and we finally do not care what it is or what it tells us. Did good win? Did evil win?? Does it matter? It was beautiful. Horribly beautiful.