Ghost River – 8

October 15, 2006 at 3:58 pm (Ghost River)


Bliss masks itself in the forms of emptiness

It is all noise, weather, traffic and the unexpected.

I do not think philosophy gives enough attention to the presence of the worlds intertwined with this one. You cannot count the number of worlds, and the facts of one world are not the facts of another. In one world numbers are infinite, in another they don’t exist at all. As you move toward one world it grows sharper, as you move toward another it grows dim. In one world everything is still at night, in another, everything is still at day.

Knowledge is itself daimonic. The serpent is always coiled around the tree. Once we leave the text, then we are on our own. Life becomes fiction, we pretend to pretend.

So what are these other worlds? If worlds are created by desire, and there are an infinite number of desires, there must be an infinite number of worlds. There must be heavens, hells, and all manner of in-between locales. There must be worlds of complete extinction where atheists find rest slowly dissolving into the elements. There must be fanatical worlds where the soldiers of faith receive the just due. Then there must be worlds like ours – where we live again and again, a dozen lives, a thousand lives, an endless number of lives.

Perhaps death is as illusory as anything else. The soul often leaves the body and returns later. At death it just doesn’t come back. It goes on in some dream that may even be similar to this world. In this way, the soul may not even know it has died until looking around it notices small things that are completely illogical. The spell breaks – then it realizes it has crossed over.

That is how it was at least with my wife. She is somewhere, who knows where, and she doesn’t even suspect that in this world she was given a funeral, buried and mourned and that I’m writing this about her now. Of course, with so many forks in the road, perhaps you and I, are in the same way, just as clueless.

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