What mystics have known for centuries, science is now just beginning to entertain and that is the fact that nothing outside of consciousness exists; that not one single particle of matter with any real properties exists until it is observed.
This truly gives some weighty importance to the saying, "Thinking makes it so."
So, if consciousness holds all the cards and can create either a Royal Flush or a Dead Man's Hand, I am wondering what the hell is wrong with mine that it has had me losing at Old Maid for half a century? Go fish!
I wake up everyday to conditions that are less than ideal in terms of my personal happiness. Does this mean that it is all in my head? Are they trying to tell me that all the years of suffering, insecurity, aloneness, ineptitude, self-loathing, doubt and verifiable incompetency that I have lived through were a figment of my imagination? What the hell!
I suppose I could approach this from one of two angles: The one approach would be from the vantage point of the annoyingly tenacious optimist in me, who would interpret this as great news. This would mean that all the menacing, disappointing, disillusioning and disturbing elements and incidents in my life, past and present, are not real and that I shouldn't have to worry about the future because it I simply refuse to observe negativity, it will never come into existence.
This would also mean that I am really still twenty-five and that I am intelligent, beautiful, holy, humorous, philosophical, perfectly healthy, incredibly gifted in all manner of thought and deed, and basically damn near perfect.
And I suppose it then stands to reason that the stains in my carpet are not really there, nor is any of the dust or grime or dirty laundry. Not unless I say so, anyway.
Of course, the realist in me would point out that if, indeed, nothing exists outside of my consciousness and since I've spend over five decades bumbling around subjecting myself to accidents, injuries, heartache, imperfections and unfulfilled dreams; something within my consciousness must be deeply flawed.
And if this is true for me, then what about all the other people in the world? They don't seem to be doing a heck of a lot better than I am. Why do they still lose their jobs, break their legs and get fat? Why isn't everyone who auditions for American Idol a winner? How come some people have ugly dogs? Or ugly kids?
And since money is such a determining factor in whether a person can eat, have a home, get healthcare, clothes and material pleasures, why don't we all simply stop observing currency? Would it all, then, go away leaving us with only those things we want to observe?
Obviously, I'm being facetious here. The reality of and implications behind this truth are mind-boggling, and if I had the capacity to fully understand and initiate action on the theory in a physical and pragmatic sense, I would be sharing it on Youtube in all my glowing incandescence instead of blogging away with such strife-funded dedication.
As it is, I'm writing about that primarily as a way to distract myself from the escalating "dis-eases" as they circumnavigate my life like karmic vultures constantly reminding me that my own choices and actions have converted me into this choice hunk of prey for the gods of recompense and retribution.
I guess I've been observing a lot of the wrong things.
However, I did survive a dinner out the other night in spite of the intestinal discomfort working against me due to my inherently shy nature and my distain of and impatience with 'happy talk'. With the exception of the couple hosting the evening, the restaurant held a table of 'unknowns', which immediately clued me into my lack of power over the universe and observable intentions.
Fortunately, I sat across from an engaging couple; he was a judge whose forte is adjuicating disability claims and she was an attorney specializing in family law. They met on an internet dating site and seemed so perfectly suited to one another and so in love that I had to intentionally stifle my covetous reaction.
My other half spent all but about fifteen minutes over in the bar area of the restaurant where he had a clear view of whatever basketball game was life or death that night, as opposed to all the other nights. He's usually the guy who is there but not actually.
I frequently find I have to explain him to strangers before they arrive at an even less flattering conclusion about him on their own. Probably not at all unlike the preface you might give to others before you show up at some affair or event with a relative you're hosting on a weekend pass from an asylum. He's not overtly hostile or dangerous and certainly has no pre-conceived intention of being rude, but his inherent myopia combined with an inability to cope with not having his way can sometimes pose major challenges in social situations with all but the most understanding and forgiving of people.
We all have our priorities. Unfortunately, ours tend to be antipodal, but after twenty-seven years we've learned to operate outside the laws of natural physics just to keep the peace and retain a certain measure of cohesive functioning.
Relative to the whole business of consciousness and our decision those long years ago to inhabit the world as a unit, it does sometimes make me wonder, "What were we thinking?" For my part, I justify the decision by clinging to the theory that opposites attract.
Consciousness aside, life is what you make it, and I suppose that if our collective consciousness' as a species were all that spectacular, we wouldn't be on this earth right now forced to discover our true divinity and holiness under such raw and volatile cosmic standards.
Relativity and intention in our flawed state of being have only so much power. In theory almost everything sounds good, but since we are here and subject to the laws of our imperfection, I guess we'd better stop whining and get on with the task of bettering ourselves.
It reminds me of an incident I read about in the newspaper when we lived in Scottsdale, Arizona. The city had recently installed several of those roadside cameras that photographed speeding offenders. A guy received a speeding ticket in the mail along with a photograph of his vehicle in motion. In response, he sent the police a photograph of cash money in the amount of his fine. They, in turn, sent him a photograph of a jail cell downtown.
Enough said.
