The Temporary Lamentations of a Mother: A Poem

                                            Picture taken recently on a solo hike through  a state park near our home.




The Temporary Lamentations of a Mother

Where are you Peace? Like a mirage
Her form shimmers and taunts,
Dancing alluringly in the distant horizon;
Calling, beckoning, only to dissipate into
Darkness when I come close. Impossible
To grasp, too elusive to seize.

Thoughts go back to this morning,
Perched attentively in a half lotus
Position. Listening to the harmony of
My home slowly enter into my awareness
I became one with my breath, rising and falling
rising and falling, to its own uneven cadence.
Sounds of birds in the distance outside my windows,
their songs accompanying the rising sun
spreading her glorious garment
open wide before a new day,
the hum of our refrigerator, the muffled sounds of my
Husband snoring; all participants of
The disjointed orchestra of life playing
Its rhythms out all around me.
My breath having its own small role as
I bear witness to it all; my soul taking
A momentary break and simply resting
In the moment.

Hours later I find my bedroom door locked.
Mommy just gave herself a time out.
Two little criminals, bliss-snatchers,
that once gestated in my womb
are now placated after a bout
of intense bickering and whining.
Tears dried following stern admonishing
they now joyfully watch a movie together,
snuggled close beneath a cozy blanket.

I try to breathe deep again, finding grounding
in the present, finding a foundation of peace
from which my words and actions can compassionately
extend themselves from as the day continues.
I am no fool. I know full well that the crashing waves
of ambivalence and resistance will once again rise up and fall
Down mercilessly on the shores of my experience.
This temporary break in chaos is temporary indeed,
So dictates the law of Impermanence.

But there is no foundation, that’s all an illusion.
There is just a watery flow of intentions pirouetting
with various inputs and outputs, some dark, some light,
shifting and pulsing. Life’s river beckoning me in to either
Drown or heal me who knows.
I laugh at the absurdity of it all. Life, a kaleidoscope
of pain, loss, sorrow, ecstasy, peace and joy. And plunge
myself into her dark and swirling waters.

I know soon I will exit my room, already feeling
A bit more whole again after vomiting up my
reflections In prose. My soul putting on her dancing
shoes, for she now realizes she chooses to dance
amidst Joy’s gay tune, after all, why not?
Leaving sorrow in broken shards at her feet,
unlocking the bedroom door only after unlocking
the light hidden within her deep recesses,
I will welcome my offspring once again into my arms;
realizing  that we don’t need to seek light,
We have it within ourselves all along and
we can conceive and bring it forth on our own.

Alone: A Poem

Alone


I wish this world would leave me alone for awhile,
We've danced our dance and she offers little worthwhile.
Just a sea of ever swelling absurdity,
Phony characters wearing garbs of superficiality.
Give me the shelter of an old oak tree,
Skirting the curves of a gentle river.
It is there my heart will fly free,
Releasing an ecstatic shiver.
Peace to be found in observing life at play,
The moon to keep me company at night,
The song of birds to fill my empty heart by day.


~~~

I wrote this short poem this morning. A gentle rain was falling outside and I longed to transport myself to my favorite perching place alongside a river that has captured my heart, oftentimes mending it when it feels shattered. Longing also to drift down the trails that etch themselves criss-cross through a mantle of evergreen that broadly adorns her curvacious figure.

When I am out amongst this living sanctuary, a kaleidoscope  of earthy tones, I feel completely free to be myself, unhindered by the shallow and superficial expectations of man. Unencumbered by the superficiality that seems to define this material world. To simply be and bear witness to a living, breathing web of life unfolding before my senses.

Well, an exodus to her waters today is simply not doable.  Who knows the next time my heart will find itself soaring with the hawks that circle above her or riding her many currents that boldly race southward to sweep up more admirers in their voyage towards deeper waters.

No matter where I find myself I have her form etched in my consciousness and need only to look inward to be reminded of the peace such solitude and beauty affords. Peace that my heart aches for during times of uncertainty, restlessness and/or grief.

Do you have a place where you long to go that restores and refreshes your spirit? A place that above all others your heart feels most at home? If so, please feel free to share in the comments section.

Thank you!

A Matter of Perspective

                                                                                   Sometimes it's all a matter of perspective. 
                                                                                  (picture is a rain  drop taken while on a hike)
                                              



It's been awhile since I last posted. My family and I have been experiencing lots of changes and life has been swiftly flowing. This morning I woke up at 2 am, an hour after my  dog last nudged me awake to take her out. I realized it was futile to stay in bed as thoughts began to race in my head and I rationalized that it would only be two hours earlier than I usually wake up. Oh, what the hey, why not?

I sat in front of the computer screen and felt the urge to write. It's been so long and the house was so quiet. I love a quiet house. Lately my children have enjoyed playing video games and watching movies. That has become more and more regular now that we are well into winter and it's freezing outside. I find the sound emanating from the glorified box in our living room irritating and it oftentimes causes me to retreat in my own room while it is endlessly drones on as the wind whistles a hollow tune outside.

What to write? I wasn't sure but didn't feel too philosophical. An image of a woman I will see later on today that I work for flashed in my mind. I was reminded of a moment while cleaning her house that we had not too long ago and decided to just write about that. I put it in the form of a poem but I probably could have just made it into a post. It's just the form it starting taking at 2:30 in the morning! I wanted to share it now because if I don't post it now I'm not sure I will.  It's unedited so pardon the roughness of it. 

I would love your thoughts! Please leave them in the comments section. Thank you!






Arrows

I tell her the story of Buddha,
Born a prince and curious about the world.

Exposed to a suffering he never imagined
outside of his once insulated life,

He sought to rid the world of it.



As I sweep the floor I come to one of my

Favorite parts of the story. On the Eve of
the Buddha’s enlightenment, the demon Mara

Attempts many times to defeat him. In his final try
he sends  fiery arrows across the waters at Siddhartha.
As they sail on a sure and steady

Arc towards our hero, finding detachment and compassion

He transforms them into flowers that fall harmlessly

At his side.



We reflect on that.
I turn my eyes in her direction.
She has become more than a woman
I come over and help do the things that she can no longer do.
She has become a little oasis I find myself venturing to twice a week.
A warm place of laughter and shared moments.  

Peaches, her cat, runs her left flank
alongside my calf in a gesture of affection
as I reach up to dust the corners of the ceiling.
 

She is a woman that is no stranger to fiery arrows.
I go in her room to put the vacuum away. A bedroom
void of a bed for she can no longer get in or out of one
on her own. Living every moment now in her chair.
I remember the first time she told me that.

The image of stretching one’s legs out under the covers

On a soft mattress filled my mind. What an awful thing to

Never be able to do again. And at only fifty years.
So much more time left sitting and reclining. Reclining

And sitting.
 

She tells me of when her mother found out she had MS.
“Amy,  you should really think about the things in your life
that you might have done to deserve this.
You must have done something really
bad to make God punish you like this.”
Shocked, my friend immediately
expressed her rejection of such an idea of God.
God does not punish. God is good.
And God will turn her fiery
arrows into flowers, her sadness into joy,
her suffering into opportunities to give and to learn.



She asks me what I think and I agree. She is not overly religious

But holds a quiet and simple faith tucked in the folds of her

Heart. A sacred place I dare not tread with my skepticism.



A glowing optimism emanates from her countenance

and serves as the vessel that carries her above the

Furious waves of heartache, humiliation and turmoil.
I feel I can relate in a way as I  share that same sense
that we can transform ugliness

Into beauty, obstacles into stepping stones,
frustration into peace. Sometimes it seems all a matter of
perspective. A matter of unbinding ourselves to the
material that has a way of sticking to our consciousness

Like sap to bark.



I gently close the door when I leave,
warm skin meeting winter's icy chill.Pulling  out of the lot and into the dark night, 

I glance in my rear view mirror and watch as
the light from her window
melts into the retreating distance.

Lessons in Impermanence

I ascended the narrow staircase holding a plastic cup filled about three quarters of the way with cold iced tea. I warmly complimented the room’s view of our town’s lake while wiping the condensation that had already formed on its exterior off before placing it in his outstretched hand.

It was my second visit to his place. A man I had started seeing but would only see for a few times as I was a “fill in” for another worker that needed the time off. I have recently taken on another part time job. For this one I visit people who live at home but need extra assistance with everyday chores that they are no longer able to do. Also, some just need good company; someone to talk to, someone to listen to them.

He drank deep then put it down with a thud on the windowsill that lined the wall on his left side. Eagerly taking up his brush again he dipped it in the small pile of acrylic paint that rested on a sheet of cardboard in front of him. Paint he had squeezed out of a tube that now found its home in a haphhazard pile of similar looking tubes all bedecked with caked layers of  various colored hues. His arms appeared bruised and I looked twice with concern before realizing that it was just a dark layer of greyish brown paint that had come to adorn his upper limbs like garish sleeves.

He was a painter, though he had done many thing in his lifetime up until now. Along his hallways and in every room his paintings ornamented the walls. Sailboats and fighter jets. Portraits of John Wayne and other celebrities stared back at me as I would raise my head to meet their airy glances upon rising after unplugging the vaccum cleaner. Probably his most favorite thing to paint was scenes from the shore. Sailboats, harbors and piers. I could almost hear the flutter of the flags atop a ship in one of his paintings he had managed to make it come to life so vividly and masterfully. Some of his paintings had sold and were for sale for thousands of dollars.

I looked down at the painting he now worked on. A crude outline of an airplane with little details dully met my gaze. He looked up at me and our eyes met.

“I don’t paint like I used to. But I still love it. And will keep doing it no matter what. Until I can’t pick up my brush any longer. My eyes, you see, they have a degenerative disease. I’ve already had cataract surgery and they fixed that. But nobody can fix my eyesight from slowly going away.”.

I tried to change the subject by complimenting on a painting that was behind him of an attractive blonde girl smiling radiantly.

“That’s my daughter. She died a year ago of cancer. She fought hard for four long years but she just couldn’t keep up with it. Went through chemo and everything.”

Shaking his head sadly he went on.

"My wife died 36 years ago and now my daughter. You just never know when someone will leave you. When they will be taken. Everything is fine and normal one day and it’s like they are just plucked right out of your life the next. You just aren’t ever the same after that. Never the same.”
My heart cringed and all the faces of those I have lost came flooding forward in my consciousness.  My paternal Grandmother I lost in middle school. My high school friend Erin who died of cancer. Another high school friend Katie who died unexpectedly from an undetected congenital heart defect. And yet another high school friend Brendan who, after his car had broken down on the side of the road and he walked on the shoulder to get help, got struck by a drunk driver and died shortly after being rushed to the hospital. My good friend Jim who was like a brother to me who died of a drug overdose in college. My grandmother who died last May. What to speak of all the close animal companions I have lost along the way. What he said was so true and reminded me of the impermanence of life and how it is so important to savor each moment with those we love and to make the most of our time here.
Later that night, too exhausted to read, I thought I’d peruse some videos of Radhanath Swami’s lectures and came across a short one that made that afternoon with my client immediately come to mind.
The video is of a story Radhanath Swami tells in his book, The Journey Home. Conveniently, I recognized that I had taken down a quote from the story and had it already on my quotes page devoted to quotes from his book. This is the quote I have that is the main theme of the video, one of which is undoubtedly very beneficial to reflect on. I encourage you to watch the video in its entirety as well.

“The unsuspecting fish, who knew nothing but life in the river, went about its routine like any other day, but in an instant was ripped out of its reality to meet with death. Like that fish, we routinely live our lives hardly aware that, at the very least expected moment, the yellow-eyed hawk of fate in the form of crises, tragedy, or even death, may wrench us out of our comfortable environment. We regularly hear of it in the news or see it around us but rarely take seriously that it could happen to us. Perhaps the lesson here is to guard against complacency and give higher priority to our spiritual needs. If the fish swam deeper, the hawk would not be able to reach it. Similarly, if we go deeper into our connection to God, we will find an inner reality so deep and so satisfying that it lifts the consciousness to a place where we could deal with the effects of unforeseeable fate with a stable, detached mind.”
 ~ Radhanath Swami, The Journey Home, p. 291-92

Nothing in this material world lasts. I try to teach my children that as I find them getting unnecessarily distressed when even the smallest of their trinkets break. Not only do inanimate objects rust and decay, but so do our bodies and with them our abilities, just like my client’s ability to paint. Our eyesight eventually gets less keen and our bodies age as well as those of our loved ones. Impermanence is a sad fact of living in this material world but our impression of it doesn’t necessarily have to end leaving us with a lingering sadness. For our  misery while experiencing the impermanent can be a catalyst in prompting us to dig deeper spiritually and seek a peace and love that is everlasting.


It's been awhile since I've last posted. I plan on posting hopefully at least a couple of times a month here. A lot of things are happening in my personal life. For years I have stayed home with my children and now find myself back to work having not one, but two jobs!  I also have become more spiritually focused and now am chanting my mantra (the mahamantra) 16 rounds a day, which also takes up quite a bit of my time. I hope, though, when I do post, my readers will enjoy what I continue to write. And please feel free to leave your reflections in the comments section. Thank you!

Andrew Newberg: Think Like the CIA

                                                                   Courtesy of Google Images




In his book, "Why We Believe What We Believe", author Andrew Newberg lists eight strategies that the CIA uses to teach its intelligence gathering anaylsts to think more wisely and open-mindedly. This allows them to analyze situations more critically and thus be able to construct more effective solutions to problems.


As much as I shy away from taking advice from our government I consider these strategies, which Newberg gleaned from a CIA handbook, ones that are beneficial for everyone to keep in mind as we navigate our way through everyday circumstances as well as try to make sense of some of the events in the world, both local and global. Some of the suggestions might seem like common sense while others might be new ideas to be considered for implementation. Some of the ideas listed seem to be very similar, yet if you read them closely, there are distinctions between them.


I hope you find them useful!

 8 Strategies to Think More Critically



(1) Become proficient in developing alternative points of view.

(2) Do not assume that the other person will think or act like you.

(3) Think backward. Instead of thinking about what might happen, put yourself into the future and try to explain how a potential situation could have occurred.

(4) Imagine that the belief you are currently holding is wrong, and then develop a scenario to explain how that could be true. This helps you to see the limitations of your beliefs.

(5) Try out the other person's beliefs by actually acting out the role. This breaks you out of seeing the world through the habitual patters of your own beliefs.

(6) Play "devil's advocate" by taking the minority point of view. This helps you see how alternative assumptions make the world look different.

(7) Brainstorm. A quantity of ideas leads to quality because the first ones that come to mind are those that reflect old beliefs. New ideas help you to break free of emotional blocks and social norms.

(8) Interact with people of different backgrounds and beliefs.


From: "Why We  Believe What We Believe", Andrew Newberg, p. 259

Which strategy do you find most useful? Please leave your thoughts in the comments section. Thanks!

Sam Harris: Spirituality and Mysticism

In a recent post I expressed my dissatisfaction regarding the seemingly subjective nature of spirituality and announced my resolve to focus on investigating and exploring areas that at least offer the chance of obtaining some clarity into the nature of things.  I figured I would turn to science, whose scalpel of reason appears to quite effectively slice away at misconceptions and whose systematic approach focuses on objectively finding answers.Since then I have read a couple of books that have really made me reflect more deeply on my decision to forgo spirituality in its entirety and I'm starting to see that perhaps in my frustration over what seems an unending battle between intellect and heart, and my apparent thirst for some sort of clear direction in which to proceed in my pursuit of truth, that I might have entered into the mindset Ken Wilber would label as "flatland". A tunnel vision way of thinking that focuses completely on that which can be scientifically measured and analyzed.

The two books I have read recently and that really started making me re-think my approach was Andrew Newberg's book, "Why We Believe What We Believe" and Sam Harris' book, "The End of Faith". I would like to mostly focus on what Sam Harris has to say regarding spirituality in the last chapter of his book, so I will only briefly note that in Newberg's book it became clear to me that science can also be laden with a level of subjectivity has well.

"...personal experience is subject to numerous perceptional, emotional, and cognitive distortions that occur at every stage of neural processing. What is finally summoned forth into consciousness turns out to be a very limited and subjective view of the world.

Science tries systematically to utilize subjective experience to measure objective reality, but even scientific views of reality differ. Every hypothesis finds dissenting views, so scientists themselves are challenged to choose who or what to believe. Furthermore a scientist's belief system can influence the outcome of a study as much as a theologian's belief system can influence his or her perception of the world."  ~ p. 280

It seems like everywhere I turn subjectivism is glaring me in the face! From science to spirituality. Though, I do think spirituality is given more of a free ticket in allowing the imagination to take flight and encouraging one's mind to lift off of the foundation of reason and into the open skies of ambiguity and subjective speculation which, to me, is no way of going about trying to ascertain any sense of clarity into the nature of the Absolute. So, is it possible to wed reason with spirituality and erect a meaningful yet logical platform in which to proceed on one's journey towards understanding? Sam Harris seems to think so.


In his book Harris points out that spirituality has been a source of transformation for man since our very beginning and that it certainly can provide one with a deep sense of meaning, clarity, inspiration and depth. Spirituality itself is not necessarily the culprit that battles reason and plunges seekers headfirst into delusion, but more so religion. Harris points out that there is an underlying essence that carries much truth and lives at the heart of all religions and spiritual traditions. These truths were  most easily recognized and espoused by their mystics but covered up by false layers of dogma and doctrine; religion's sweltering blanket smothering their fragile lights.

"Mysticism is a rational enterprise. Religion is not. The mystic has recognized something about the nature of consciousness prior to thought, and this recognition is susceptible to rational discussion. The mystic has reasons for what he believes and these reasons are empirical. The roiling mystery of the world can be analyzed with concepts (this is science), or it can be experienced free of concepts (this is mysticism)...

A kernel of truth lurks at the heart of religion, because spiritual experience, ethical behavior and strong communities are essential for human happiness... While spiritual experience is clearly a natural propensity of the human mind, we need not believe anything on insufficient evidence to actualize it. Clearly, it must be possible to bring reason, spirituality, and ethics together in our thinking about the world." (p. 221)

Harris points to the rational and systematic approach in empirically studying the nature of consciousness and reality that the philosophies in the East have and how they contain gems of wisdom derived from those who used their consciousness as laboratories. Those who chose not to superimpose fanciful false layers of myth but instead  dove straight into experience and extracted precious truths.

" Even the contemporary literature on consciousness, which spans philosophy, cognitive science, psychology, and neuroscience, cannot match the kind of precise, phenomenological studies that can be found throughout Buddhist canon."  Harris goes on to say, "Mysticism to be viable , requires explicit instructions, which need suffer no more ambiguity or artifice in their exposition than we find in a manual for operating a lawn mower. Some traditions realized this millennia ago." ( p. 217)

The "manual" like instructions that Harris is referring to are the similar techniques mystics and yogis the world over have discovered in which to allow oneself to enter into the state where "our sense of "self"-of subject/object dualism in perception and cognition-can be made to vanish, while consciousness remains vividly aware of the continuum of experience."( p. 217)

I found Harris' views on spirituality and mysticism refreshing. Overall what I got from the last chapter of his book, The End of Faith, is that spirituality can be approached in a rational manner implementing reason and logic. That any interpretation of what one experiences should be compared by, might we say a "peer review" of sorts, with other conclusions of those who have explored the nature of consciousness themselves. The mystics,  those who themselves have traversed the landscape of consciousness, are great examples of sources to draw from for they have provided maps for those who wish to make similar journeys in the form of texts like the Buddhist canons and the Vedas. Even the Western religions offer their own mystics for one to extract insight and direction from-Islam has Sufis like Rumi and no one need look any further than Jesus when looking at Christianity for an example of someone who attained to a self-realized state.

So, in closing, after some introspection, reading and insightful conversations lately I've decided that I would be rejecting the very reason I am attempting to implement in my pursuit of truth and understanding if I turned away from spirituality completely. Instead, I will proceed practicing the disciplines that I have found meaningful and inspirational. However, I will do so with caution as to not be led astray by interpreting any of my experiences with any undo sentimentalism and while simultaneously discovering the wonders of the natural world that have been revealed by science. By developing the widest lens in which to perceive things as they are I will hopefully progress in a fruitful direction that will at some point allow mind and heart to converge in a harmonious consensus. Okay...being completely optimistic. ;)

Your thoughts are always appreciated in the comments section. Thank you!

These Waters: A Poem

                                                       Picture taken last year on the bay side of Wellfleet,MA






Nearly every summer, since childhood to the present, I have returned annually to the shores of Cape Cod spending days walking along its sandy beaches and gazing at colorful kites pirouetting across its sun drenched skies.



As my family and I make preparations to have our senses once again inundated with the exhilarating combination of salt air and invigorating waters I couldn't help but reflect  on the fact that every time I come back to this place of abundant memories I return a different person. 

One year I remember going up to that most treasured peninsula jutting out from the eastern seaboard as a child dreaming of being an astronaut. Mesmerized by the heavens I sat, wide-eyed, gazing out at the view before me stretching out into infinity. Another summer I went up as a bright eyed dreamer envisioning that I would change the world and someday ride the ocean's waves on Greenpeace rafts and save whales from being murdered.

I've returned to the beaches of Cape Cod as a new Christian in my later teen years, hymns pouring out of my heart and out across the sea, lifting my praise towards a Creator whom I recognized through Jesus. I've gone up there in the summer of my first year of college, finding love and passion in the same places where I once dug holes to make swimming pools for dolls toted along in pails. Just last summer I arose while my family still slumbered to walk where wave meets sand, my lone foot prints trekking through damp sediment. I mindfully chanted my mantra on japa mala beads as fishermen prepared for their morning ventures.

What of this year? Where do I "find" myself now? I return to the place of my childhood feeling much like a blank slate in many ways, spiritually speaking. I've pretty much abandoned any notion of dogma or doctrine, any assumption into the spiritual. This time around I am seeking only to witness the life reverberating around me in a more complete way as I practice mindfulness and simply enjoy witnessing my children explore the wonders that once thrilled me as a child. Perhaps some new insight will come, or perhaps a poem will be born or an idea to pursue when I return home. I do have a collection of books I am bringing, my journal, and my japa mala bag. Such things I can't imagine traveling without!

No matter where my heart or head is at, the one thing I love about Cape Cod is that I always feel I've come home when I return. It's as if the deepest part within me sighs, loosening up parts wound tight to open and receive a new found joy as brilliant as the sparks that seem to dance atop the waters.

Reflecting on all of this I wrote a short poem today between folding clothes and sorting socks. I hope you enjoy it. I haven't really edited it yet, so I am posted it as it is.



Please feel free to leave your thoughts in the comments section. Thank you!

These Waters

I've entered these waters with various dress
as a child of God these waves caressed
my self once ignited with passion and zeal
For a God in my heart I once held real.

I've entered a dreamer, a poet, a child-
a mother, a lover, with dreams running wild.
I've walked along where water meets shore churning white,
Reciting my mantra, my heart taking swift flight.

I've met these waters with pen in hand
Sketching out thoughts as numbered as the sands.
This time I come, my slate nearly wiped clean,
Only seeking to breathe deep these waters blue and green.

Longing to watch the seagulls circling high,
Reeds bending neath Atlantic's steady sigh
The boats drifting as boats often do
across a seascape of caerulean blue.

Turning Point: Embracing Skepticism

 




One needs only to scroll down the titles and peruse the content of my recent posts to know that I have been really struggling to make sense of things lately. Battling between mind and heart and trying to find clarity amidst two different paths that seem to call me both to them with nearly equal strength.

The following I wrote a few days ago in my online journal. I believe I have  been really battling with my skepticism  for some time now. It has been an aid for me for sure in the past. It has helped slough off layers of misconceptions that clouded my perception of things and was key in bringing me into awareness of the attachments that I needed to let go of at the time in order to pursue the truth more rationally. But then I believe it kept taking off layers that were perhaps just as necessary to remove as the previous ones but the difference being with these was that I started to feel uncomfortable when they were threatening to come off. So I found myself struggling mightily to resist skepticism and maintain that which preserved my sense of security. Now, after considerable reading and reflection and angst, I am deciding to embrace my skepticism and endure what is hopefully temporary discomfort in order to pursue the truth less tethered by illusions.

Well, I don't want to write too much because I believe my entry will speak for itself. I just want to note beforehand that I hope none of my readers are offended at some of the conclusions I have been coming too. It is not my intention to offend but to be genuinely honest in revealing, stage by stage, what I am encountering and experiencing in my search for the truth into the nature of reality.



-----

It started to occur to me  lately that I have potentially been caught up in a futile endeavor.  I've been looking only into the areas of spirituality and religion in my pursuit for truth into the nature of reality. Thinking that within ancient texts, within the teachings of saints and yogis, there can be precious jewels of realization into the Absolute to be found. In exclusively looking to those sources  I contradicted my own rule of not using presuppositions while digging for the truth. It was like at the beginning of my journey I set off knowing whereabouts my destination would be-in the region of the Divine somewhere.  I presupposed that wherever my journey would take me it would lead me closer to God, whatever or whoever He is. That even if He wasn't personal that there were  transcendental realities that existed. I also naturally assumed from the very start that within every living being there was an eternal essence which came from something Divine, that is something that I have always maintained.

All of my presuppositions could very well be true and for sure there are seemingly intuitive moments of clarity where they most definitely seem true. But, what I'm coming to find is that really nothing into the transcendental nature of things can truly be known with any substantial certainty and the plain fact is that they could also be false. It doesn't mean that there aren't realities that we cannot perceive that do exist. Certainly there's lots of things that we have not been able to detect  in the past that we can now-like radio waves, waves of light, etc.  via new technology. And we are sure to discover more as time goes on. But when it comes to  questions of whether or not there is a soul, maybe there is no real point in asking such questions because there's no real way of finding an answer. Or, maybe before considering such questions and looking for religion/spirituality to provide an answer, we should first look at what can be known and after that re-assess the question and see if it still  has merit.


I'm finding that religions and spiritual philosophies fall exceedingly short if not impede greatly in any potential glimpse or experience one can have of what really Is. When I really think about things objectively I am finding myself agreeing  with many philosophers and great thinkers that I have come across in their conclusion that religion and even God are artificial constructs. Simple as that.


Even though reality in its entirety seems nearly inconceivable to ever truly "know", there are things that we can know and discover. We might not be able to "know" the nature of things in their entirety but we can come to know a lot and in the process come to realize and appreciate reality in a deeper way than we wouldn't have otherwise  because we are coming to understand different and very real facets of it, rather than ascribing to  speculations and conjectures towards it.

So, I guess the theme of this stream of consciousness entry is that I'm starting to wonder what the point is of chasing after what really can never be known with any measure of certainty when one can discover what can be known?...Is the former merely akin to chasing a mirage while the latter can be perceived as plunging into the roaring ocean's tide , tasting and feeling, truly experiencing, a tiny fraction  of its greatness for oneself? Yes, we might not be able to canvass the whole ocean for example (yet), knowing intimately its depths. But we can learn to understand as much as we can, and find ourselves in a reverent sense of awe while doing so, digesting the fact that  there are even more untold treasures teeming beneath its waves. So, true, of reality as a whole and all the mysteries it holds.


Your thoughts are always welcome. Please consider leaving them in the comments section. Thank you!