It’s now fully spring and the life that slept through that long North Dakota winter has burst forth uncontainably throughout my yard and beyond. So too, life takes root in my heart.
Sleep finally comes; I hope in its lying promise
that it will dull my pain;
but my dreams are as dark as life
and then the tragedy comes
that I wake again.
And I dream of another sleep
that will never end
but I know the dream is a lie
because everything is a lie
and all that exists is pain
and hope has gone to sleep
like I vainly wish I could do.
And so I push through another ghastly day
and wait until I can sleep
another lying sleep
from which I know I’ll have to arise
and do it all over again
“Oh, here, see this!” Saralynn exclaimed, drawing out of Paris’s embrace in a burst of irrepressible enthusiasm. “There’s so much else you can do with them.” She was holding her hands about six inches apart, palms facing each other, and her marble was somehow suspended between her hands. She moved her hands up and down, like she was massaging some sort of forcefield, and her marble grew bigger, until it was the size of a large grapefruit. A tiny light glowed deep inside the crystal sphere, then spread until the whole orb was pulsing with a soft yellow light.
For a moment he forgot again what he was doing there but he knew he was trying to squeeze tears out of his eyes because he thought it would be a release somehow, at least some kind of release, but he squeezed until his eyes burned and ached and nothing came and he hated himself for even trying and despised his own weakness. Then the pain took over again, a knot of it, only knot wasn’t the right word because nothing was the right word, and it burned in him so deep he felt places he never knew he had and they felt deeper than the core of the Earth and the gravity was crushing him deeper into himself and all he could do was curl into it and make guttural noises of rage and frustration.
St. Paul, Minnesota; the Midwestern Federation of the United States of America. 2039 CE
“Police with a warrant! Open up!”
The harsh cry and loud accompanying boom of knocking at the door woke Paris up with a start. For a moment he couldn’t remember if he was in or out. His senses came to him quickly and he glanced down to see that his fingers were bare. So he was outside. The VR-15 had worn off. And the cops were here.
In my previous two posts (here and here), I discussed the meaning of life, the universe and everything as my awakening consciousness is beginning to see it. In this final installment, I intend to make it more personal. What is the meaning of my life? What is my purpose in this world? The really cool thing is that I get to have a purpose. But the even cooler thing is that I get to make it up. I can create a purpose for myself that can be absolutely anything I want, bounded only by the infinite complexity of my own imagination. And if I decide I don’t like my purpose, I can just make up a new one. Infinite times if I have to. There are no rules for it besides whatever rules I choose to create for myself. It’s a godlike freedom that I find exhilarating.
I just re-read my initial post about the meaning of life, the universe, and everything, and felt frustrated by how it struck me as just a tangle of words that didn’t really convey the reality I’ve been experiencing. No one could read those words and immediately experience the same feeling of awakening consciousness that I’ve been feeling. That’s frustrating to me, because I’ve always put a very high premium on words. But words, like everything else that tries to convey or capture reality, are only metaphors. And reality itself can only be experienced immediately, without metaphor. So now, instead of trying the impossible task of explaining what I’ve been feeling, I’ll undertake the more intuitive task of just telling my story of how I arrived at the place where I feel those things.