Dark matter/energy is the water we swim in, transparent,
weakly interactive with its children till it’s not, then vibratory translation
into what we are, what we see/hear/taste/touch. Particles and more particles
till the round breaks down, an infinite regression into a thoughtless/wordless
reality that we impart with comforting monadic
identity…most of our ‘universe’ a function of bipedal mammalian lensing,
apprehended as ‘life’ when it moves. The only common ground among energy/matter
we know, and the persona-cracking vast amounts we don’t, is the substrate of the
‘energy’ that animates us; the common membrane of transformation, generated and
passing away, a strum of some strings, a beat of the only drum.
Taken so it explains a lot; the oddly interactive states of
matter and mind that we associate to some risk-computing, ambulatory-enabling
tissue in our heads, but is more fundamental and non-local than that (so we’ll
never find it looking there). The source used to be sought in the heart, now the head, no-joy. If you want to know why there is unexplained, first consider that
there is un-explainable, at least in our current state. There is no organ,
gland, or chemical state that isn’t slaved to the matter we take so seriously
(mostly cause it will kill or please you)…we won’t find meaning there. The very
conceit of ‘finding’ something that creates everything we know/can know/will
know? just an exercise in ‘time’-killing
practical, 7 sciences for 7 sins all dancing and singing in our eye blink of
‘here we are’. It’s elegant and sad, the constant becoming at the edges of
interaction, the friction of reality, generating the heat of thought, the smoke
of stars, the smell of everything cooking off. There’s a koan in there if you
want it.
I take heart from it, despair seems pointless and wasteful,
as it doesn’t transport you anywhere; where do you think you’re going? Free to
frolic in the fissile, calling things names and pretending we understand it
even an edge of an edge of an edge of where we are. More conceit to give us sleep and significance,
self-declared wisdom or murderous rampages just about the same thing in terms
of meaning. Interchangeable and open choices, consequences on a scale so closed
loop and persona-l that there’s no real beginning or end to it; one song, a
symphony for cosmic kids.
So time spent crossing the gulf of that knowledge and coming
home with intent and focus that’s constantly, consistently aware of matter,
reaching excitation and relaxation levels that allow us to feel good, the so-called
Great Work?…sure, why not. The downside is that that community is clouded by charlatans and hopefuls,
desperate self-anointed priests/priestesses, gullible Westerners riding their
egos to authority, butchering words like ‘Zen” and ‘Samadhi” while practicing
perverted simplicities and Danish calisthenics…calling things ‘ancient’ that
happened yesterday. That’s the drag on bliss; delusion, Maia, the first and
last gate to anything other than masturbatory self-promotion.
Do folks get a glimpse of it? Sure, how else would I be
talking about this…standing on the shoulders of normal-sized folk (there are no
giants, the math of the ankle won’t permit it). Living with that reality generating
action with that as an impetus 24/7 though? Not sure anyone can do it. That’s
the first wisdom, well documented: You can’t get there from here. Going back to
the start is always recommended, focus’d down on a 4-dimensional spiral out of
the cradle, anything that can be spoken (i.e. filtered through our cognition) is
nothing more than a signpost for starborn us maybe(?) groping our way blinking
out of the gravity well; absurdly plain-viewed metaphoric winds blinding,
frigid, randomly blasting/grinding/decaying us back into the becoming….
