With so many problems in the world it’s very tempting to place the blame on something else, on someone else. There are so many distractions, so many things delineated on the screen of both life and of fantasy that instigate and seize the resources of one’s mind and place us in the seat of fear. If there was no self, no soul, no atman, no God, no creator, no time, no logical way in which to see and operate in the world what then will become of the totality of existence?
Most of us see ourselves as alive, living entities that live to better ourselves and to find harmony with our environments, others and the world and yet we’re all trapped in a well of misery. There may be the momentary episodes of joy but is this happiness? Happiness like all things is another thing that has been imported into the consciousness of mankind, and once downloaded into the storehouse of memories one can then choose from all the varieties of ‘happiness’ to satiate whatever craving one may have. One day this happiness, this desire, that experience, and on and on it goes until time takes over and thought comes to an end. Time and thought, thought which has created time and from that everything else, and so is there anything real at all? Because to experience the real, thought must come to an end but it is only by way of thought and thinking that I have come to be, the very reason that I can say that I am alive according to the definitions that have been handed down to me and yet the very essence of thought is dead. I wonder what a zombie truly is?
They say that mankind is different from the birds, the bees, the rivers, and the trees because mankind has self-awareness. So they have found a way to separate mankind from the totality of things, from nature. Because mankind is separate from nature, this thing called self-awareness is nothing more than the fabrication of a thing called the mind which gives form to the individual; the mind is molded like wet sand and is given form by the particles of thought, maybe this is why they say that thoughts are matter.
One looks at the hand and identifies it, and then goes on to identify the eyes, the elbows, the feet, the shoulders, the brain, the ideas, the countries, the planets and the solar system, the elements, the beliefs. Thought and time, time and thought. The entire world wants the kind of freedom, like the varieties of happiness on the shelves but how can there be freedom in death? Because death is like the broken record which is indicative of the way in which the world operates, that is from the storehouse of memories, of the thousand yesterdays.
True freedom is elusive and for one reason another is not a desire that calls to many because to truly be free means to be free of the self and yet it’s the self which is mired in fear that propels the very desire for the kinds of freedom that like a lighthouse has beckoned mankind into the very prisons they want freedom from. Can thought ever come to an end? Is reality, not the plastic reality which thought has created just another pipedream? And is to live, to be alive a plausible possibility?