We Exist in Relationship

This living is a relationship.

We exist in relation to other nexus points.

An infinity of perspectives in a matrix of pure potentiality.

Each point depending on its context.

So then, why is my perspective so important?

How can my God, my happiness, my truth, reign above all other points?

How accurate a reflection of reality is my node in this web,

and how could my lens ever reflect the totality of experience?

When was the last time you really, truly connected with the moment?

With the Absurd,

that pulsing,

vibrating chasm between past and future.

Connected such that you could be certain you had gathered enough pure input to discern dualities, causality, ethics.

Connected such that you dissolved ideas,

linguistics,

boundaries between forms.

Where the futilities of our collective ambitions fall at the steps of a reality

so incomprehensible

that your thought agreements evaporate.

We are projections floating through a soup of mind and matter, driven by our thoughts and imprisoned by our choices.

An ocean of faces, fears, hopes, dreams, steadily marching toward the grave.

We could be so much more! Do so much more!

What is the most noble ideal worth striving for?

Could you strive for that at the cost of security? Of respect?

Can you see that perfection is a dream, an ideal,

yet in the striving, the reaching for the unreachable,

we meet with the gods.

Can we discern godliness when we see it?

And how does that actually manifest itself in these prostituted streets?

Can you be without becoming?

taste true presence, intoxicating in its breath, when it draws near?

Or have you been too long without sustenance that you are satiated by crumbs?

In its absence, can you hold fast to the memory of the sublime?

Devote your life force to respecting the Mystery?

Or are you content to hide in the pettiness of our cultural charade?

In the blank spaces carved out for you by the vacuously vacant.

Buried under the syntactical weight of a terrified species.

Do we see life as it is or as we are?

And, if we cannot know what we are, how can we see life and dare to call it truth?

Do you see this dance?

The shouts of the ignorant from the rooftops as the wise watch this hubric dream pass away.

Kings and the destitute, sinners and saints, trembling before the magnitude of this thing!

All eventually engulfed by the cosmic whitewash.

The light and darkness of human civilisation, the birdsong in a universal dawn.

How deep need we go, before we find the difference between needs and wants, fears from choices?

How much does the past influence our present?

And what is the nature of Time?

Gravity?

Consciousness?

Creativity?

Love?

Do you think

this science

can really

ever

c a p t u r e

the

mystery?

Like children seeking to imprison a beetle in a matchbox.

And where can you define the edges of the individual and the collective?

Do we create reality, or is it handed to us?

This living is a duality, a contrast.

Experience, a feedback.

A vibration reverberating into the fabric of time-space.

We exist only in relationship.