Monday, April 14, 2025
When you die, the body turns into a rubbery pancake. It stiffens, and then like a shriveled balloon it disappears. What occupies it? My job is hard. I’m trying to put sticky notes on something that we can’t see, hear, touch, taste, or smell, yet we can! We have 5 senses, but this entity I’m trying to label is the senselessness that allows sense to make sense and not make sense simultaneously!
Whatever we try to label, it leaks out and evades our holding cells, stories, and memories. All of those memories leak out! All of those words expire. All of those stories fade. I want to know what’s left! To the unsuspecting, nothing. So that’s all? Nothing? Not exactly, something and nothing go together. How could we know something without nothing? Right. Foiled again. Whatever is left is evasive.
Consciousness is like a mold and things “pour in.” But then, they leak out. That’s what futile means. From Latin it means to “pour” or “leak.” Seems like things vanish from consciousness, and even consciousness itself seems to come and go. Many of us are “unconscious.” So what’s left?
Our body’s wither and decay, and we absorb into the spaciousness that is everywhere. We vanish. We evade. It’s futile. There is nothing onto which I can hold, and I sure wish I could. Fishy, wiggly, evasive – futility. The arguments have holes. The summaries wither. The predictions pour out. The beliefs change. Consciousness becomes unconsciousness. The sticky notes of words and labels fall right off. Worry leaks out too. The inflated ego deflates. Eventually you become so porous, you float. You soar. You vanish. You become just as the Evasive One. Yeah, but after that, what’s left?