Even as I spend a portion of my days writing about matters of the spirit, a culturally conditioned voice in me constantly critiques the effort; that voice wants me to get back to doing something more successful, productive, and remunerative. He believes that constant busyness is a requirement of responsible living, and that daily reflection and meditation constitute dereliction of duty. He feels guilty when I spend time on Skype with my daughter who is overseas during that sacrosanct time called ‘the workday.’ He would be content if I’d find our teenager’s argument that ‘everyone else is doing it’ a compelling reason to grant permission for something my parental instincts have redflagged. He wants me to ponder and get worked up about deep questions like whether or not I need a marble countertop in the kitchen. His yammering gives voice to both my own dysfunction and the culture’s deep confusion. When he seems silent, it’s usually not that he has given me reprieve; rather, I have become so habituated to his presence that I have trouble distinguishing the cucumber of my authentic self from the brine of culture. How do we get out of the pickle jar of cultural confusion?….Kevin Anderson
carefully, unfailingly, with vulnerability, with integrity…….here…..like riding the ferris wheel……perspective of a wide-open heart without fear……
We are a constant process, an event, we’re change.
Our life is the house, the rest are just projections, shadows of the greater structure: even our deepest thoughts, beliefs, you, me and everything and everyone we’ve ever known, are subject to interpretation. All our constructions of reality, all the words and ideas we use to understand the world are fragile and temporary, they are a medium, they’re not the end, but just another way to understand the journey of Us.
As such, our smaller houses, our temporary homes can only be made of cards. And the I-don’t-know is the most powerful ground you could lay your house of cards on. Because it allows you to adapt to any unexpected changes and even to pick up those cards when the smallest, sudden movement, brings down any of your structures.
Loving the questions means to love yourself. You are the biggest question mark the world (your world) has ever known.
I’m embarrassed about what different alien species might think of us from outer space. You know, if they actually watched Human Reality TV on their Martian screens:
“I don’t get this dramatic species, Rango,” says a green-skinned, 2.5 meter tall, half-lizard, half-nymph, flying-lady with robot voice and snake orange eyes. “They go to the bloodiest ends to come up with the most elaborate answers about life, yet they forgot the most basic, liberating act their 5-year olds still practice: the simple art of asking. The wonder, Rango, they have lost the wonder. They love to talk about life, as if this could somehow excuse them from living it.” Rango nods and snorts green cosmic powder.
There is no truth other than your truth – as long as you exist. Somebody else’s won’t do. And you know how most doors are opened? Not by struggling to find the right keys. All you have to do is knock. Life is an endless flow of questions – meaning is always in the making and it is constantly being created as we speak. The ultimate meaning of life then is the One that creates meaning: the traveler (not the journey), the subject (not its objects, ideas, circumstances, possessions), the lover (not the love), the wayseer (not the way), the warrior (not the battle)…
Instructions for living a life.
Tell about it.