“You must believe the lie, so you may find the way to make it true.”
The above, a seminal comment dropped within a light-hearted comedy…. or something that seemed so at first. A movie, recommended to me by a friend; So much so that they bought and shipped me a copy. It was, I think, a meaningful thing on many levels, not the least of which was that I find this one comment in a moment in which it would be simply, beautifully beneficial and helpful to hear it.
I cannot say I believe in some overarching order in the universe, nor in a supreme being, nor even in a pantheon. I say this even as I say that I believe in each and every one of those things as such. Does it make sense to you, those two statements, together? That the paradox is non-existant even as your eyes skip over the letters and transmit seemingly incongruous meanings?
Yes, no, neither, and both, of course. The perspectives all are very real and very meaningful, but the meanings are shared in every way. If not as demonstrations of the reality that is appearance play, perspective, and the dichotomy of individualism, then of the pristinely equal reality that all systems hold the kernel that is the great imponderable; The unspoken for which many, like myself, struggle and strive to put into words.
It’s all the same and it’s all different. Hah. Zen and the works of Terry Pratchett, or perhaps more recognizably, Zazen and the art of recognizing the finger, pointing at the moon.
I remember a night wherein I felt so incredibly lonely that I thought I would die of it. I took myself to bed and feverish masturbated and could not find relief or release. I wept. I cursed all life for being alone and lonely and needful. I cried until I could barely breathe and then, lay there with swollen eyes and clogged nose and allowed it all to run where it would… so very hopeless and careless for it all. And there, in that moment, suddenly, nothing. A pure and full emptiness in which all the ridiculous anger and frustration and loneliness wafted away like morning mist.
I could feel my sinuses clearing and there was the oddest and most perfectly undisturbed sense of peace. I stood outside my mind and watched it unfold and laughed for the delight of it. Laughter outside myself, happy and unperturbed. The thought was liquid and all of it, every moment of it, was completely powerless but for the power I gave to it…. and I have infinite power in any moment to direct as I will or wish. But, more importantly, I didn’t have to will or wish it at all. I could simply stay as I am, the observer, neutral and drunk with delight all at once.
And, of course, it immediately occurred to me to try again. To try without the fantasy film running behind my eyelids. To try from that moment and place of utter quiet and perfect delight. And so I did. And I laughed for the experience of pleasure without desire; the reality that, staring at my ceiling, no thought to other than the feeling my hands, my fingers, that which my being was giving to myself, without any notion of another, without even a notion of myself, just touching and enjoying touch and feeling it build and swell and respond in a way I never knew possible.
I exploded with it and was laughing at myself all along. Shuddering with the physical sensations and the tsunami of chemicals and still, clear headed, delighted intellectually, calm emotionally, and palsied physically, I laughed out loud for how ridiculous and silly it was to feel alone, lonely, lost, bereft.
I bet you think that is an utter deviation from the previous thoughts and context. Or maybe you don’t. The parallels and truth are obvious to me…. in this moment, anyway. The reality of ultimate paradox and the simplicity of bliss and the so often seeming impossibility of sustaining bliss; that you cannot manage it until you manage it, that you cannot know truth until you make it within yourself, that you believe in what you believe in because you must believe until you experience it and know it for yourself.
And that you must believe beyond that experience because it is only possible to continue past it – to believe you can find it again. And that you cannot find what you will not seek, so you must believe and seek to have a reason to live whatever.
The pattern repeats endlessly. The pattern is life. To discover the pattern is not to know the pattern. To know the pattern is not to control the pattern. To control the pattern is nothing more than to be able to (re)discover it constantly, consistently – holding without holding.
The beginning is the end is the beginning… thesis, antithesis, synthesis… the pattern… I am laughing, here, now, in this moment, silently, in my head, watching myself spin all these letters that say everything and nothing at all.
I cannot ask you if you understand. I cannot say I will for more than this moment. But, ah…. this moment!