Not a single atom of yours will survive.
Not a single atom of yours will perish.
This body is nothing we can hang on to. It shall pass. It is merely a cosmic postal address. A galactical I.P. you receive for the time you’re ‘online’.
-« But this is all material, you say, we all know we’re not built to last, and we have all been informed we may be put to recycling bins after a certain proportion of a century, at best…or a few couple of decades at worst. But what about all creative activities? Artistic footprint, professional traces will strive through ».
You mean thought impulses ? What triggers action in the world ? You’re right. They might. But then, all the ideas that made our life, giving you the impression you were once so powerful and talented or awfully meaningless at times… These ideas will get dismantled and scattered, forgotten, un-copyrighted, or re-shaped into action and eventually disentangled.
I assume, by now, you still wonder about the roller coaster of feelings : the thrills, the joys, the fright, the driving enthusiasm, the petrifying surprises, the agony of love…the heart doesn’t deceive.
They exert the fiercest power of attraction, no doubt. But anyone who’s ever been through some serious outburst of anger knows that, if they get hold of us and throw our whole being ten feet above the ground, igniting the deepest cells in our organs, they leave just as they came, just like a more or less welcome neighbor coming for dinner.
-‘But we can still claim that the things we see, smell or hear, taste or touch, before they give rise to a bunch of thoughts and feelings we agreed were doomed to vanish, are for real at least’. (?)
You’ve got to be familiar with the following statement: the light we see is not the light there is, but a vague and distant echo, a bare distortion of the light that once was. This is not rocket science.
Therefore the objects we experience through our eyes are highly unreliable and unstable, linked to other objects and fully depending on other criteria.
As for the things we hear, it gets far worse, considering the possibility that some people on earth actually turn out to genuinely love black metal music. We are way beyond any ground for objectivity (and linguistic field of possible explanations, for that matter).
More seriously, no perception is free from a wide array of associations, all personal, and changing. Think of your favorite T-shirt when you were fourteen. Can you trust really yourself ?
There you are, turning your head in every direction and finally asking the skies;
-‘Can anything be an objective experience of reality? There seems to be no solid ground here… anyone? Ok, put me on hold, it’s not like I have something urgent to figure out…’
-‘And consciousness ? The ultimate item we bite so hard on ? Should we really let that one go too? No way, I’m sapiens sapiens, sir, I’ve got rights!’
The experience we have of ourselves… isn’t that something we can at least rely on?
It may sound as abrupt common sense to conclude that if all the experiences we have (body, feelings, thoughts, perceptions) are unreliable, then there’s no reason to believe that what is experiencing unreliability is itself reliable.
And if it ever were, what would be the point of the experience?
Is consciousness, like the wrapping paper of the good ole’ British Christmas cracker ? Holding everything together, allowing and sustaining a momentary illusion ?
This perspective is very depressing, I must admit.
‘I’ must admit it really is.
Maybe we just laid our hand on something here. We found the glitch in the matrix.
It is not to realize it will all go to waste, burn away and re-form into God knows what (God knows what ?), but to somehow have the short-sightedness to believe we are this ridiculous, pointless Christmas cracker. To stick to, and identify with it.
If we zoom out with a cool head, now that we are aware (and know there is no head to be heated up anyway), we may start to observe our processes and everyone else’s as well as all of the more remote processes (maybe deprived of a consciousness, of thoughts, of perception, of even a body).
Once we have thoroughly adjusted the focus (doing so we should take care to refrain our jaw from hitting the floor), we could get a glimpse of the everlasting, time-embodying, space-embracing, all-pervading, flow of consciousness.
Zooming in again we will see bubbles pop up, every now and then, wondering if there might be one day something else to pop up into, or out of, or why the sister ahead on the stream is twice thinner.
Can you hear their plea, their fear of their popping out moment.
At that point, it is fully natural to want to kneel down and delicately let one of these panicked little things slip in your hand and, watching it burst away, say:
-‘It’s OK, you have never been a bubble anyway’