Instructions for field workers

Don’t complicate anything. The appearance that one thing leads to or causes another is a given. Check the source code. Nothing can happen in 3D reality unless it is/was/appears to be caused by something else. The chain of causation is guaranteed to occupy your mind indefinitely if you allow it to. If, on the other hand, you accept that things are never subject to causation – that one thing in itself cannot, does not lead to another – then you have to ask the question – why the subterfuge? Apparently the appearance that one thing… another is essential if you’re going to create the illusion of linearity, i.e. a time stream. If, on the other hand, all things and events are merely form and content bubbling up from the underlying cauldron of creation, flowing downhill like water in search of entropy – but never in fact moving anywhere – like a wave – merely appearing to move, merely feeding the mind of perceptions with a series of suggestions which go onto become a causal chain of events unfolding – until the mind of perceptions finally notices that it too is attached at both ends to whatever it seems to be beholding as the clock ticketh, and that the clock ticking is not, in fact, a neutral occurrence whatsoever – that the parsing of time is to things occurring what the breath is to things being. You can’t have one without the other. The metronome of mind sashays left and right, back and forth o’er the meridian of matter y’nought – failing to notice, failing to observe the movement of dusky shadows, unwilling to see, afraid to observe the zipper, the hinge, the swivelly pivot whereupon “a tale told by an idiot idiot, full of sound and fury, signifying nothing” – a tale of zero somehow becoming one – is by sleight of mind, sleight of unperception or sleight of conscious-unsubconciousness overlooked, ignored, blotted out, in order to preserve the functionality of our glorious reality realm of computation.

 

Yes, we are all involved in computation, are we not? Committed not to see what we, in fact, see in order to continue computing infinity – knowing full well that the computation ends the minute we quit the story we’ve committed to unequivocally. And when that finally happens – we finally get to see whether or not we have come any closer to encompassing the so-called infinite within either so-called mind, or so-called matter, or whether the infinite remains still beyond our reach – a promise of much, much more that we fail somehow to embrace fully.

 

A world, a universe – is all it took – that and the ability to accept, through story, through the master myth of “me” actually being “me”, through the apparent separation of mind and matter – that we are somehow separate from the vast, endless all that is all, from the strangely absent infinite indeterminacy of infinity, the unknowable that is strangely known not to be known either, perhaps, bitter sweetly or, perhaps, terrifyingly – like an abyss of lovelessness which paradoxically is experienced by a beingness born of love – a “ness” for want of a better descriptor – that cannot ultimately separate rhyme from reason, day from night, joy from abject ennui – and so, we do not strive to solve the equation, to escape the labyrinth, to ascend – knowing that “there” cannot be “better” than “here” – knowing that the variables will always defy computability – that something else – closer to circle – closer to 360˚ vision – closer to “un-me” is waiting within, waiting to emerge, to make itself felt at the end of time, a consummation devoutly to be wish'd, a consummation in which I, once again, allows the many-much-and-merry-unknowability to come home to roost in the tree that I have somehow discovered myself to be…

 

To what end, they ask

And silence is my defence

 

0=1

Cuckoo la la

Verily