Are we human?
The good, the just, the beautiful are but memories. Placeholders that used to occupy my mind. Meaning is no longer exists. I can not even recall how my mind understood things as possessing meaning. Beware of renouncing the fall of man. Hopes of living beyond the knowledge of good and evil should be tempered. Beyond the shade of the tree lies the garden. But footsteps are barely audible. If you desire to walk with God, you must first be. Such a being as to walk to tightrope of the divine and the self. No light to guide the journey, merely feeling for the next inch of rope while frantically trying to maintain balance. To lose the feeling of that rope… and fall into nothingness is the greatest fear. Balancing there in the darkness brings one so close to that great abyss that one is from time to time overcome. Existence and the abyss becoming indistinguishable. It is in the great sways of our arms keeping ourselves upright that one feels the tightness of the rope thread between ones feet and rejoices. Only for a moment. At these thresholds of being our faculties are miserably weak. The mind cannot recall, the eyes cannot see. Why this is the case is such a mystery. One thing is for certain, our nature is not designed to dwell here. Whether this is the creational intent or rather the outcome of some profound disease of man one cannot know. Diseases of the entire human person, not just a disease of the mind or of the body could have wracked ruin upon man and there would be no way to apprehend such a condition from such a point of view. So here we are. Having found myself on such ropes and threads of existence I cannot for certain say where the truth of humankind lies. Truth, meaning are operations of the mind that like the bricks of a wall can know nothing of the structure of the building. But to become a wall from once being a brick is to become divine from being a man. But we are merely walls, supports, infinite peices within some greater structure, limited in our brick-like natures from even comprehending ourselves as a wall. To perchance live one minute like that brick which rests upon the cold earth… a desire whose origin is impossible. There is no possibility of understanding the wall that one is as a brick. And when the impossible is somehow possible, we only perceive in some shadow of feeling. Knowledge of our higher natures is impossible to fit within the dusty mud hardened into a single unit of greater being. Yet there it is, from time to time, unpredictable and unknowable, being unlike anything that could possibly fit within the understanding of being breaks into our world. How we know it is there is impossible to say. It is impossible to say anything about it. Merely, existence shifts in such a dramatic way as to entirely change that singular thing which one is. One loses thingness and dwells amongst being as both a singular being and simultaneously multitudes of impossible beings. I thought it was feelings of loneliness and isolation. I thought that I had pressed the thresholds of being so far as to find nothing in the great beyond. I longed to walk with God in the sky above the tree of the knowledge of good and evil. To take refuge under the branches of the tree of life with all being with me. But I am a lonely brick. In my existence of mud and clay I had no way of articulating in any manner the experience of my being as a part of the greater structure. The closest thing that we have to understand, to experience the being which lies beyond our singular being is feelings of existential isolation. But rather when one merges with that which is truly other, one must be very careful to recognize the transition of communion of being. Once one is there our bricklike nature concludes that there is no God to walk with. But in reality, whatever that might mean, one is walking with God, and God is walking with you. You are only lonely because you have not yet experienced the entire house as a brick. However I urge with real caution to be in this manner. We are best as bricks. When we are that which is beyond brick, we are ill equipped for being. A brick is a poor wall, nevermind house. When you find that you desire to walk the tightrope, please, do so only with a hand reaching out of the darkness to take your own. To step into such realities on you own volition, is an experience of dreadfulness beyond words or imagination. A complete unease with ones entire singularity of existence. We are very very metaphysically weak creatures in an existence utterly alien and hostile. We are destined to transgress into the beyond, but it is a transgression in steps so small that they cannot be realized. Great leaps are not worth any consideration. Above all be patient. Below all be a seething pool of despair and rage. To be between, is impossible. Watch your step.