Monday, 16 May 2011

I Drink, I Eat, Array Myself, and Live. Canst Thou Believe thy Living is a Life, so Stinkingly Depending?

Sometimes the feeling arises that whatever is, is never enough. It must be better, or stronger, or wiser, or fuller, or simply different. We seem to take endless actions, caught up in being the change that will make what the current circumstance, thoughts and feelings perfect, or at least more amenable. These actions can arise even if there is no conscious effort. These actions can seem to take care of themselves. There is instinct, we opine, and there is control-freakishness. If only I can let go and let God (or Oneness, or whatever we are labelling the play of life today) I will at last be happy and content. I will be the person I was meant to be. I will be better, newer, wiser, more compassionate, less selfish, and released from the bondage of self. I will stop identifying with the packet of causes and conditions I'm calling the ego, and my ego will at last be content. Because whatever it is that these causes and conditions are right now is not enough; or it is wrong; or it is flawed; or it is not as it is meant to be.

It's amazing, how the very same set of conditions and feelings and perceptions can be both lacking and full. How wondrous that the very same existence can be seen as either missing something, or absolutely complete. What is looked for, what is sought, is what looks for it; it is life just exactly as it is this moment. You need not "wake up". The mind will say, well, there is some change of perception that's not here yet. But it is here, it is now, because there is nothing else.

A film can be made or ruined by the opening title sequence. In Dr. Strangelove, the slow, languid movement of one jet towing another to the paradoxical strains of "Try a Little Tenderness" as a backdrop for hand-lettered typography counters perfectly the chaos and futility of the film to come. Or, if you're on a shoestring, compose your own creepy, urgent electronic theme, carve a jack o'lantern, put the titles on the right in matching orange, and ever so slowly move in closer to the pumpkin's face and you have the brilliant opening for the classic horror Halloween. The following clips are two examples of very different moods. The first is Repo Man, a quickly edited green-on-black map of the areas in the western US pertinent to the film's action, driven by Iggy Pop's classic punk riffs with an American accent. The second is the masterpiece To Kill a Mockingbird, with the symbolic childhood treasures in Scout's cigar box lain out for us to see, introducing us fittingly to her story. Each is a prime example of hooking us in and setting the mood. Enjoy.

To kill a mockingbird Ouverture by jedall


Anonymous said...

Hi Suzanne, great blog.

You say , no awakening is required and it's already the case. But how does one go from passively accepting this to be true to actually 'knowing' it to be so? Certainly , there has to be some kind of recognition, if so isn't this recognition obviously different from ordinary perception?

No One In Particular said...

Hi Anonymous, there is no pat answer for "how". All perceptions are equally miraculous. While you're apparently waiting for this recognition, try to enjoy what's happening. The recognition is that it's life, just exactly as it is right now. Just as you've always lived it, just as you've always perceived it. It's so obvious, it smack you between the eyes...or else it's just a gentle recognition, or else it's just taken on faith, or else the whole idea is just abandoned. All are equally perfect.

tapestry said...

Hi Suzanne, half way through your book, and already you've gone straight to the heart of the matter for this reader. The fear of life - greater than the fear of death. The only fear of death here was that it might mean more life. Having had "glimpses" of what I call the "ground of being" fear of death was no longer an issue - but whoa, reading about one of Lucy's sessions with Jason, there it was - larger than life - THE fear of it. Amazed at how I could have missed this - it's so palpable.

Am in love with this line "The pyramids have their otherworldly golden haze, bizarrely pointed in a world given to boxes."

Look forward to reading the rest on this lovely long weekend. Think I'll take the book down to the nearby river and read the rest in the embrace of spacious Mother Nature.

Thank you for this gift.

No One In Particular said...

Hey Tapestry, I hope you enjoyed it.

Tapestry said...

Suzanne, I most certainly did!
The heartfelt humaneness of "the story" caught and held my heart; then the wonder and awe of this amazing, paradigm shift that appears to be quickening for humanity, set it free.