Lately I’ve experienced pity when running across those who clearly could choose for themselves something better. This being on the brain, I decided to write a meditation on what I would call the source of most problems. I believe this bit of writing reveals good news after all, but then again, I did choose at some point to become an optimist for reason’s sake.
Fear
Here it is so dark that as the question goes through my mind, do I even exist at all?, I cannot be sure that there was a person present to think said thought. Darkness; pure and complete. Blackness implies a tint, a comparison color that betrays some form of hope; such a concept is too bright for this place. The murkiness like drops of ink in water fill the mind slowly; cover through every brain cell and take root down into the base of one’s spine and then back through to surround the heart to stop its beating and suffocate the lungs by making their purpose null. And then the removal of the light sets in as the perfect suffocation of self-existence makes one a slave to any image of conception that could reflect light, and thus betray the broken mind into believing is preferable to the waking death where the absence of even the hope of a promising nightmare reigns supreme.
It is here where the nightmare’s noose tightens its hold around the neck unable even to gasp; to the contrary, the neck is grateful to be able to feel, it longs to have claws to be able to see before feeling that it is not alone as those claws begin to keep the neck company, and even make its acquaintance intimately.
And once the pain has declared loudly for the conception of the blind that that pain is all the world has left to offer, it is only then that an apple made of glass hangs just out of reach with a single ray of light shining upon it to remind the blessed one taken from the perfect non-existence of light that there is such a thing as hunger, such a thing as beauty, such a thing as joy, and that try as the one might, such an entity will always be just out of reach, and false if ever by accident it were to be obtained.
To the blind one made to look at the ray of light as though the only blessing in the world a voice speaks muffled by the joy of the dangling out of reach, “Look away from poverty and see inside yourself the light by which you could escape by opening your eyes to the world as it exists in truth,” and those afraid will always look away from themselves: for to see one’s self one would need first to close one’s eyes, and that would mean depriving themselves by choice of the only light they could conceive from the breadth of experience they never chose to enact for the sake of enjoyment as existence they cannot believe because despite the voice telling them something better exists if they look toward what looks like darkness from a lack of experience, their own belief of experience tells them to obey their master.
And so the false fruit dangles, and one may take solace that it is never eaten.
But fear does not like joy, and so the day comes when the fruit is placed in “lover’s” hand to be eaten; and on that day, that one prefers having food to eat as opposed to blinking for a glance inward toward the freedom of all-being burning with joy for all existence to partake.
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