i wrote an piece a while back about awakening and one’s relationship with one’s name / and for reasons that i do not fully understand / i opened my eyes this morning realizing there was more to the story than i originally had thought / the idea that needed further examination was continuity
i wondered as i lay in the grey gloom of the first shadowless light of the day / is my awareness not a straight unbroken line from my first worldly beholding in northern massachusetts some 50 odd revolutions ago / to this narrow moment of revelation at some 5:30 AM here on the north coast of ohio? / finite / with clear / well specified end points describing all that i ever have been / a single unbroken ever so fragile life force filament?
there are those who would contend that there are no end points / that it is possible / indeed undeniable / that our essence can neither be created / nor destroyed / that we came from a place before our first awareness / and we go to a place beyond our mortal framework
i believe this to be the case
but perhaps not in a sense that is commonly held
look around / every single life force that can be found / is frantically burning it’s own personal filament in the name of propagation of it’s dna / passing it down the unbroken line as it were / the cord does indeed extend back in time to who knows where / and we / each and every living thing that has ever existed or will ever exist / has one prime directive / pass your dna forward
now this is not exactly the reason i came here today / to tell the old dna tale / but a discussion of identity and madness would otherwise not be complete / and i have too often thought of how dangerous these kinds of inquiries are / how this may be god-stuff / stuff that we may not be equipped to integrate /stuff that can promote madness / stuff that can crash our primitive systems of thought…
but this morning / i felt connected / i threw caution into the creek / and followed / and upon further examination / i decided that / no / our sentience is not one long continuous unbroken filament at all / it is more like connect the dots / a series of thousands of points / one act day plays / divided by an equal number of night intermissions / pauses when we do not exist in any way which we can understand / and although / when the curtain rises / we retain our personae / and our name / are we really the same entity? / have we not been subtly changed by the profound night? / by the miracle of the light of day? / by being blessed with a new first worldly beholding?
yes / i think so / maybe more like a sinuous serpentine highway / with painted broken white lines down the very center of the darkness / broken white lines telling us / it is ok to pass this way