...Thus spake coincidence, and at the time it seemed rather sick.
There I was, finding myself in a place. I have found myself in this place before. That thing where you see something over and over that touches you because it reveals to you the nature of... yourself.
I was sitting by the window, as I prefer to do when possible. Inevitably, I began to hear a buzzing that sounded a bit like morse code. In this case, the message was one of distress. There was a bug. A flying bug. It was thrashing itself against the window. I suspected it was near the end because it was spending more time in stillness than in thrash.
Whenever I encounter this situation I become very upset. I want nothing more than to help the bug attain it's goal of reaching the outside, however pointless it may ultimately be. I don't know when I became aware of the fact that I deeply identify with bugs in this situation, bug ever since I did, the relationship has grown in depth and scope.
I almost always try to help the bug. If I refrain it is because of a certain mood that I may find myself in. Today, when this occurred, I was feeling pretty emotional. I tried once to lift the bug on a piece of paper and take it to the door. It wouldn't stay on the piece of paper. Of course, I understand. From the bug's perspective, a ride on a moving floor is the LAST thing it needs. After all, it's going away from the outside, which it can see is so close! It's RIGHT THERE!
So, today, I was not particularly tenacious. Maybe it is because I was in a coffee shop surrounded by people with different agendas than me. I was afraid I would reveal myself. I was afraid they would see me and think, "Wow. Look at him trying to help that bug. He's relentless. He must really wish for spiritual guidance as he thrashes against his own mirage in life." I imagine myself turning to them with the piece of paper in hand, tears in my eyes, saying, "It's TRUE! I'm helpless and desperate and exhausted!"
The most insane part of this particular occurrence today is that, as I sat there, bleeding out for that bug, I noticed the song in the shop. It was a crooning soul song. The voice was that of a weathered black man. He sang, over and over, "Gotta keep pressing on."
I mean, for fuck's sake.
I love it though. This is what I call experiential harmony. As if certain environments within an environment have certain pitches or chords. Sometimes they line up or stack to support each other. There was my emotional environment, the physical environment, the bug's emotional environment, the audial environment of the shop, of which the song was only a small part, etc. And... really, harmony has no particular nature in order to be itself. Even the most dissonant things are harmonious. Well, anyway, in this case, the resulting chord was so complex and beautiful. In my opinion, nothing speaks more of the complexity of a thing than the presence of hilarity. It really was hilarious! It was as if I was being reminded to not take it so seriously, all the while being in the throes of such a heartfelt place. Such a classically human place.
Oh, the meaning. It doesn't end there. It causes me to wonder... How many beings, greater than me, can see my struggle? Maybe they watch me and say,"Brodie! No. God! Just! ARGH@!!" and I'm like this little bug with a Brodie head thrashing myself against something. Fiser, my cello professor used to always say, "And I got you there, kicking and screaming!"
This makes me also consider the nature of greater beings. Gods. They're just like you and me. Mortal, self obsessed, and limited. After all, we're all in the same universe. This bug encountered me at random, a god, who felt for it and wanted to help it, but was too shy to see it through the gate to freedom. Another god may have just killed it. Another may not have even noticed it because it identified with something else. So, we're all gods perhaps, and we're all united by our connection to the web of an infinitely unknowing universe. The bug probably couldn't even see me. I hear that bugs surrounding a light are not actually attracted to it, but tricked by it because of the nature of their visual perception. Whenever they try to fly away from it, they end up going in a big circle. So it seems to us that they just love to fly in circles around a light. What makes us think that the things we observe organisms doing over and over are the things that they love to do? What makes us think that the things we see organisms doing over and over are the things that they hate to do? What do we do with all of this brainage? I suddenly feel overwhelmed by all the carelessness and it's inevitability.
Whew. Well. I'd say that this post has become one large case in point. But then again, what else is there but case in point? Everything we perceive, is everything that we are. Have I ever seen anything that I cannot somehow identify with? Am I capable of taking in data that I cannot process? Wouldn't it just bounce off or destroy me? Eyes take in light because they are made from the sun. They are the opposite of the sun. Our pupils are black pits that take in debris from the one big white ball. The negative to the positive.
...................I'm cutting myself off.
Cut. Snip.
Cut off.
Let us, friends, simply enjoy, or rather... listen to the harmony today as it passes over us. I pray to the mortal gods to help me release harmony as it leaves. That is my difficulty. I'm a gripper. A clinger.
help. please.
help.
Love,
bc
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