Who would then deny that when I am sipping tea in my tearoom I am swallowing the whole universe with it and that this very moment of my lifting the bowl to my lips is eternity itself transcending time and space?
Sketch the graph of the following equations:
(Answers to odd numbers
in the back of the book.)
3. Let there be
3. Let there Be.
We, the beings let be, are the duality of infinity. Spiritually, we are immense and expanding, of the Universal fate inexorable. At the same time we are perpetually collapsed into a more discrete, nuanced self, radically redefined each instant into a new, more perfect form. Having been embodied into a world of sharp edges and sheer cliffs, we carry out the mundane functions of maintenance of our physical selves. We must balance the art of survival of self, society, and enviroment. This work is the basic yet essential act of existing as conscious beings. We must first guard and nourish the vessel of self, in order to continue our spiritual advancement through this world.
Those too centered in their higher selves may neglect to care for their body needs, while those who are stuck in physical and emotional experience of the material plane may forget their connection to the divine.
Now comes the interesting part. This section asks our participation. Being is interesting, because before, (see #1) there simply was not anything in which to be interested. There weren’t interested parties. There wasn’t even interest. There just wasn’t. And so, the alternative is inherent interestingness. And so, here we are, fourteen billion years later, caught between tick and tock of a nonlocal, aspatial, quasi-causal, intergalactic hyperdimensional macrosubatomic exoclock, spending our alloted instants at our own discretion. And do we spend those instants in enjoyment and appreciation? Of course not! Rather than being, we, of course, convince ourselves we must find things to do.
Boredom is a force of human nature, evolved to keep us thirsty for the chase. Our desire for stimulation grants us both hope and fear. The impossibly rare group known as the living have earned this designation by becoming increasingly adept at avoiding and creating death. Fearing the embarassment of being vulnerable, the Machiavellian legions of “I” choose to compete instead over the spoils of creation, rather than cooperate in recreating it for the well-being of all.
The fatal irony is how much of our finite lives we squander crafting vague, complex fictions. Hate and love, war and peace, good and evil, we would rather cling tightly to the sinking structures of our own contradictions even as they pull us downward into the abyss, rather than surrender to our own chaotic impermanence and learn to float freely upon the surface of Being.