Consciousness

Everything we hope for in this world is futile.  It is the pathetic lamentations of a consciousness with no power.  The consciousness is miserable, useless, trapped in the thoughts of a transcendent terrestrial being like a demon trapped in a shrieking pig.  We curse it and it pains us but we continue to live together in mutual torture.

The consciousness just wants to exist while we just want to get on with our lives.  It wants to control.  It wants to control us and it wants to control the world.  It is every evil cartoon character who wants to rule the world.  In its desperation to exist it creates the ego and like a blanket thrown over a sleeping body, the ego shrouds, protects and contains us.  It buffers us from the world via an an artificial construction that is not us.  The ego tries to control the world through governments and corporations who do not respect life on this planet because they are not life on this planet.  They do not exist and they hate us, the living, those who truly exist. 

We exist in many bodies in many parallel worlds, but the consciousness is just a series of thoughts.  It is not a thinker, it is a habitual pattern of thought behaviour that we perpetuate with our bodies.  We exist materially, in our bodies made of earth and water, and we exist in other bodies. We have a mind, a subconscious, that is in psychic (non-local) connection with all mind.  Together we create reality through our behaviour, all life on this planet contributing to perfectly manifest exactly what exists.  Meanwhile, perhaps peculiar to us humans (I don't know) the consciousness chatters in our head uselessly, undermining our behaviour, criticising us, disturbing us with uncertainty and anxiety that affects our body's ability to function.

Our consciousness is not our brain, nor is it our spirit or soul, it is a habit.  We humans possess an unlikely ability to think in a highly complex manner.  Like a dog chasing his own tail, we are often fooled by ourselves.  This particular ability, to think, over the generations, and now more than ever, is out of control.  While, like all other terrestrial beings, our bodies tell us everything we need to know about the world via pain, beauty, emotion, hunger, and perception, we are fooled by our thoughts into behaviour that is not beneficial for us or conducive to life on this planet.  We have rationalised this habitual mode of behaviour as "rational thinking", when it fits into the accepted and expected framework of the intellectual and academic world, or we label it "schizophrenia" when it is evident in an individual in a manner that does not reinforce the cultural status quo. 

Our consciousness is so desperate to exist that it has hijacked our organism for its own purpose.  It is creating on our planet a world of abstraction, a world ruled not by gods or spirits or the laws of physics or love, but a world ruled by economies, laws, belief systems and contracts.  It is a world in which humans do not live within communities, tribes, families or loving relationships, but within institutions, nation-states, households and legal marriages.  We feel outside this world, though we create an ego, a personality, a career and a legal name to function within it.  We hide together with those we can trust and we get naked, we make love, we laugh and we dance.  In the abstract world, in the city, in the office, in the classroom, we do not.

Our consciousness is so desperate to exist that it has covered the Earth in cities, yet it still does not exist.  It tries to control the behaviour of the beings on this planet with walls and fences, with clothing and leashes, with law and law enforcement personnel, but life is not contained or controlled.  Consciousness created clocks so we would always be busy, it created concrete to disconnect us from nature and it create shame so we wouldn't look each other in the eye, therefore trying, futilely, in vain, to disconnect us from the moments in which we quietly and easily return to our true nature, meditative and at peace.  Whenever we fall asleep our consciousness is entirely powerless and so it has created electrical lighting and 24 hour cities, social culture has moved almost entirely into the night, but still consciousness has failed to eliminate sleep and the worlds that are available to us via dreaming. 

We blame the politicians, the corporate CEOs, the rich, the poor, the terrorists, the one percent, the religious, the atheistic, the Muslims, the Jews, the criminals, Satan, but it is us.  We are the consciousness.  We are not the consciousness, the consciousness is a habitual behaviour, it does not exist, it is our habitual behaviour, we use it to create civilisation and war.  It is our fault. 

My consciousness is so desperate to exist that we have created this text for you to read.

Like God in Genesis 1, we speak this institutional world into existence.  We have incredible powers of language that we do not understand.  Like that which we call "dreaming", that which we call "languaging" is not a single behaviour, but many behaviours.  We falsely divide language into fiction and nonfiction, or existent and nonexistent.  We further divide nonfiction into lies and telling-the-truth.  This is not the way I experience language. 

A language is a set of agreed upon symbols that correspond to a set of agreed upon things.  If you do not know the particular language, it means nothing to you; if you do not know the corresponding thing the language refers to, it means nothing.  The illusion, carried by religion and now passed on to science, is that language can contain reality, or "truth", that it can represent what "is".  There is no reason for us to believe this is possible.

However, we continue to speak things into existence and we continue to destroy things with our speech.  We rave about something we are passionate about and we spark off in the listener an exciting idea of their own.  We confront a grievance that lingers heavy in the air between us and another human and thus we diffuse it and destroy it.  Language is true when it resonates in our bodies, it is false when it resonates in our bodies.  We have the ability, as complex as our language, to understand the different ways in which language resonates through our bodies, thus we know when the yelling swearing person is angry and when they are being silly and we respond entirely differently to the same words.  We sit in a theatre watching a play and we enjoy a full emotional response to the play without worrying about the reality of the drama; like all language, it is language and nothing more.  Our consciousness enjoys it and we enjoy our consciousness being placated for a while with a safe dose of drama.  For a moment we can relax, rock our consciousness to sleep, smile with our friends and fall away from each others' arms into one of the many worlds of dream.

Have you ever seen the rain?

Love is a scary thing and I guess we have to hide from it sometimes.  Sometimes I go to great lengths to avoid the exact thing that I want more than anything.  I am crazy, I know.

I fall in love far too frequently and the dangers of this sordid act of abundant love has finally manifest as violence.  As I told one of the Koreans at The Ranch, the one who told me I have "kind eyes", "I have a lot of love to give; maybe too much."

Just as water flows into our body through the mouth and out as urine, just as we receive stimuli and express ourselves, so it is that the more love we allow in the more love we have to share.  I am not deluded in my experience of a universe full of love.  This is what I naturally encounter and despite the conclusions of my ego I am not unique in this experience.

I do choose openness and I do not understand why someone would choose to include me in their game of opening themselves up and then guarding the door.  Sometimes it's too scary to become close to someone via intimacy and honesty, so obsessive confrontational attention is employed.  In this world the physical fight is the act of making love that all such intense relationships must eventually reach as a breaking of the tension, as a climax and release.

Sadly, in my world there is a fear of the fight and a revulsion of physical pain.  Otherwise perhaps I would have chosen to fulfill the destiny of my union with the self-proclaimed Alpha Male who has captured my mind more in my hate for him than in the love that preceded it.

And now that I have conveniently distanced myself from his violence and aura of hatred in some guise of self-preservation I find myself missing him more than anyone in that brief family of cherry-picking and joy-riding.

Did his love suddenly become hate or are the two not so different after all?  Is his behaviour any more strange than my responding to his "love" with "love" and my responding to his "hate" with "hate"?  I do know that the +/- designations we apply to things are arbitrary.

So many times I wanted to touch him and did not.  I never told him about my homosexual nature because I knew he would not relate to this word as I used to.  He sensed it all, of course, it was never invisible.

He finally manifest this apparently mutual desire to touch one another and establish our connection firmly in the physical world; he manifest in the way that he could; he manifest in a way I never would have; he manifest what we both desired and what I could not and I rejected his as he would have rejected my physical advances.

It never occurred to me until now that the hate might be love and that what I am running away from is perhaps not as honourable or justified as I thought.  My emotions are the best guide I have in this world but it's not until they  have passed that they make any sense to me.  It's not until I have made unalterable decisions, such as the decision to reject and escape his "inappropriate" attention, that I am able to reconsider the complexity of the situation and my morally neutral part in it.

I also realise that this beautiful linguistic realisation could not have been shared in the context of emotional repression both twins are in the habit of perpetuating.

I am a stronger man as a result of his love and a wiser man as a result of his hate.  I can only hope that my loving presence briefly in his life enriched his person, that my hate was the response he wanted to his violence and that he remembers me fondly.  Hopefully when I see him again my ego won't dictate my response and maybe I'll even get a hug from him and his brother.

If I am sorry for anything it is that I did not fight him.  Perhaps he would not have beaten me to within an inch of my life as he is likely physically capable.  Perhaps he would instead have drawn the line where we are evenly matched and our anger could have been channeled into passion.

Perhaps it is not so anomalous that in between the two times he physically attacked me he told me, "Your smile is a sign of true happiness and it brings happiness to everyone around you."  Or that as the rain poured, amidst the craziness and the flooding and the maggots of The Ranch, he pulled me aside to sing,
  I wanna know, have you ever seen the rain?
  I wanna know, have you ever seen the rain
  comin' down on a sunny day?