Well, no comments on the “dead” post. I must be bleeping brilliant. [snort] But I was thinking about that coyote I saw, and I see a clear connection to what I meant.
The sighting wasn’t a short one. The coyote stood and looked me in the eyes from 20 feet away for what could have been a full 30 seconds before turning and slowly, calmly walking away. Not running, mind you. I was in the presence of a very powerful awareness uncluttered by emotion. No fear, certainly. And that’s what I was driving at. It made a huge impression on me.
No attachment, in other words. And if we fought politics like we were already “dead” — with nothing left to lose, which is actually the truth in any case — we’d win every goddamn time.
I keep coming back to an intellectual understanding that the solidity of the physical world is an obvious illusion: when we touch something, the sensation is actually experienced somewhere in the brain as a burst of energy. There isn’t anything “out there,” it’s all “inside.” We’re points of light, not bags of blood. So why aren’t we having lots more fun following our hearts? This whole business is some kind of game or test. It isn’t what we think.
That coyote wasn’t “thinking.” Yet he absolutely mastered me, because he wasn’t trying to.
[Aaghh! Help me, Mama!!! I'll falling back into hunger, shaving, showering, dentist, dermatologist, and the ringing in my ears...]
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It’s the frontal lobes, John. Or if you prefer, Original Sin. We aren’t coyotes, more’s the pity, consciousness-wise, but we do eat better most of the time. And for an old geezer like me, once all the other vices become too, ah, strenuous, that’s a fair exchange for what you might call the satori of beasts.
I’m donating my frontal lobes to Goodwill. Never did me any good, anyway.