The Yellowbrick Road

Sometimes it becomes damn near impossible not to share certain things, certain concepts which probably should not be shared. Its like a great wave of potential presses upon oneself from within. Sooner or later the potential reaches yet another threshold and crashes through to the outside world.

We live our lives out day by day, hour by hour, minute by minute in such a way that we feel as if they are a constant and real progression within a constant and real world. But the truth could not be further away from this limited understanding. 

We live within not one life, not one body, not one mind, but many! We are an immensely large (indeed infinite) expression of an infinite organism. If we had but a moment of this shining realization, we would be overcome by the truth of it all. We would feel the agony and the ecstasy of an infinite number of parallel selves, being made manifest by our infinite consciousness (our "God-mind" if you will) We would see our lives unfolding in infinite patterns of impossibly intricate detail, extending into an infinite ocean of never ending manifestation. 

As one who has seen the complexity and the richness of this complicated existence, I have witnessed on more than one occasion the reality of the many worlds that lie just outside our own. I have shared the agony, the ecstasy. I have shared the memories, the desires, all the hopes and fears which we think are private. 

What lies within the human mind, but the coiled frame of a God unimaginable and unfathomable in every way! We are deceived by the singularity of this world by that which seeks to be deceived within us all, that which seeks to experience that same illusion. This illusion or rather our lust for it can be diminished, if we try. When our consciousness reaches a critical level what remains is the kind of mind that sees the illusion for what it is. Mark Twain once introduced this concept in his hidden masterpiece, "The Mysterious Stranger" as the stranger tells us to (look beyond, that the secrets have been hidden in plain sight. The truth was there all along. It was all a dream, a fantasy of unimaginable proportions.) Twain's mysterious sage knows that the illusion is an illusion, and he sees right on through it. The spell has been broken, and the chains have disintegrated from around the mind.

To quote E.E. Cummings, "...There is a hell of a Universe next door..." And in fact, there are an infinite number of them. 

"If a fool will persist in his folly he may become wise,

If he persist further, he will surely lose his mind,

If he loses his mind he may become truly free,

If he becomes truly free, is he not unlike a God among men?!"