Oily, Crusty Happiness

Last week I wrote:

"There is an oily crustiness on the underside of everything."

Often, reality is presented as a flat surface and in order to see the underside, one must lift up a corner and peek underneath. Often, someone is assigned to stand on the corner, preventing others from exposing the oily crustiness.

On occasion, reality is presented as three-dimensional, with its best face forward. In this instance, one can circle reality, but reality will consistently encourage two-dimensional interaction so as to distract from its oily crustiness.

For many, often in the midst or aftermath of adversity or hardship, one finds oneself in the face of oily crustiness, and one works very hard to (again) circle reality.

For some, reality becomes oily crustiness.

Oily crustiness has the unique ability to enfold and appear as three-dimensional, thus encouraging one to allow absorption.

To avoid absorption, one must remember the forward face of reality; and one must, on occasion, circle reality.

Some may call the forward face of reality, God; some may call it good.

Some may call the oily crustiness, the Devil; some may call it bad.

The difference between "good and bad" and "Good and Evil" is intent.

As one circles reality, questions arise.

For me, reducing reality to "Good and Evil" (or even to "good and bad") is simplistic; but still, a potential starting point.

For me, the ultimate spirituality is to hover above, float beneath, and gently drift around, in, and through all facets of reality.

For me, the uninhabited, empty regions of reality are the most difficult. I prefer the oily crustiness of interaction over the oily crustiness of idle hope. Some do not recognize idle hope as emptiness. Idle hope does not always feel like emptiness. Some see idle hope as the flat, two-dimensional surface of reality masquerading as good; or as Good.

Emptiness is not always idle hope. Often, emptiness feels like emptiness; a dark and sudden drop; absent of everything; absent of peace. Fortunately, this emptiness is not truly empty. There may be seemingly empty moments sporadically interspersed, but there is connective tissue between; otherwise one would stop.

I find momentary peace in the realization that I have not stopped. And I find realization in the momentary peace of moving forward. Sentience is the connective tissue.

To ascribe external responsibility in the form of credit or blame for personal sentience, encourages two-dimensional interaction by filling one's personal sentience with flavor-enhancing preservatives.

I am responsible for my forward movement. I am responsible for choosing the mechanism by which I move forward. I am responsible for the quality and depth of my chosen mechanism.

Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *