The Greatest Story Ever Told

In the beginning, which was really no beginning at all, Spirit said to itself:

"I'm bored with you.
Go away!
Come again some other day!"

So Spirit ran from itself. It ran until it no longer recognized its own face in the mirror.
Spirit vanished and in the Aeon it played all games forever.

All time passed.
All space filled.

And then, one day, there was heard a soft whisper through the Aeon;

"Where did you come from?
"Who are you who Is?"

It didn't know.
It asked again.
And again.
And yet again.

It  kept on asking until finally there was a silence which lasted all eternity.

And in the end, which was not an end, it said;

 "I am that which is. I am Spirit."

What is the Meaning of Life?

Once you've asked this question you're in deep trouble. The best thing would probably be to not ask it at all. Most people manage just fine without having that gnawing pressure in the back of their heads sometimes encouraging them to stop in the middle of their routine walk toward the shops and stand motionless with that sensation booming like a loudspeaker in their soul; where am I, what is going on, my god this is so strange, who am I?!

The last month has been a good month. I've not written a single word. This probably means I've been knowing who I am. Now I am back to the process of reading and writing and this probably means I don't know anymore. I am filled with doubt and questioning again. In times like these my life takes on the character of an existential quandary. I become suspicious of Being. I give it scrutinizing looks out of the corner of my eye. I think thoughts like "what is this thing who dares call itself existence? What of time, space and matter?" My faculty of thinking/labeling has summoned the court and no stone shall be left unturned. "God! What do you have to say for yourself?"

And so it goes. For a while the whole universe is subject to my categorical scheme. Sometimes I seemingly make progress. That means; I make more labels who are internally consistent with each other. For a while the labels enable me to expand beyond my old understanding and allow me to retrace my steps in the intellectual landscape from a higher point of view. This is the closest thing resembling philosophical enlightenment that I've managed to find and basically it isn't much different from good ol' learning. First I develop a network of new concepts and then I review the old model in light of the newly-found knowledge. I cannot see how this is good for anything except the accumulation of more words. It seems to me that knowledge is quite useless. It wont make you feel good. It wont feed you or make your relationships less dysfunctional. It just sits there; static. Unless of course these things fascinate you and make the butterflies in your belly go tingle.

That is the reason for asking any philosophical question. It is entertainment, just plain and simple fun. It serves no purpose. It has no benefit. It is like dancing, it is done just for the pure sake of doing it. I write these texts because it fascinates me how my mind can move about on this page and take a million forms. I have no idea what I'm going to write next. Sometimes I truly astonish myself, like when a eloquent and meaningful sentence just pops into my head fully formed. I suppose some people would like to say I've been smart and clever to read and write all these words, and I say to them, I suppose the chef was wise to eat and cook all that food. The painter too, for seeing all those sunsets and scribbling all those little doodles.

My problem is that I want to reach the top of the metaphysical mountain. Fast. Preferably right now. I want to see it, whatever there is to see, that thing that is hidden, that little secret you always suspected was there. I don't care how it will tax my social life. I don't care how alienating it is. I can think of no greater pleasure, no greater rush or mix of awe and ecstasy than to behold Ultimate Reality, Gods Perspective, whatever. I don't think I'll ever meet God, since I am something It is doing and really we are not two, but I've felt the exhilarating elation that comes from climbing the mountaintop and I'd be damned if I wouldn't get to experience it again. Sex, drugs and music all have to take a seat when compared to the thrill of uncovering an actual piece of reality. It is like following the footsteps of a creative mastermind.

Sometimes questions in regard to existence can take on a character of desperateness. This is the type of philosophy I've been accustomed to. It comes from a type of person who has lost themselves and is attempting to force some answer or consolation from the fact of existence. Well, I tried this. There is none. You're only feeling sorry for yourself, that is all. There is no pat on the back from the great grandfather in the skies in response to your cry for help, only the sound of the wind and the endless depths of space. Most people who seek The Ultimate do it because they think it will make them feel good. Like knowing the Truth will somehow cure their neurosis and dysfunction. So they embark on a spiritual quest. They undergo a transformation, they change their lifestyle, their appearance, their attitudes, and they sit there at the end of it, having strived and searched for years, and they wait for the candy-man to come down from the sky and provide them with the good shit they never got. It never comes of course. The secret is that it was there all the time.

You just got uncertain and forgot that you are something the whole universe is doing. Where did you think you came from anyway? Right now All That Is, is doing you. That's all. There's no problem. Nothing to be fixed. Everything is perfect. You know very well what you are doing. You've never done anything else. There is nothing else to do. You wanna know who you are? Look!