Everything that composes that which I believe myself to be;
a cacophony of memetic imagery;
archetypes, conditioning, programming;
of words, utterances and sounds;
vibrations and frequencies;
a dazzling array of hues and variations of light –
All of these things are distractions;
A lotus eater machine designed to capture my attention;
stealing my focus away towards some grand, fascinating illusion.
This identity that longs for meaning and purpose;
This yearning to be a part of something greater;
be it family, community – tribal, national, global;
The hunger for love and belonging; acceptance and validation –
Ritualizing everything: eat, sleep, shit, fuck, piss, pray;
Even the seeking after truth is a distraction;
the quest for righteousness, enlightenment;
nirvana, shambala, shangri-la,
Creation; matter itself, no more than a masking;
an overlay; a cloak to disguise what I really am.
No words, images or ideas can describe what that is;
underneath this memetic facade; this egregore of a ‘self’-
Even these are mere ideas and thus distractions further still.
In horror films there’s often depictions of strange shadow creatures;
anthropomorphic forms that are made up of insects;
roaches, worms, maggots, flies;
then suddenly all of the insects scatter;
the shadow vanishes.
This ego; stripped of the memetic parasites that give it life;
suddenly would cease to exist;
like some ravenous, hungry ghost that finally lets go;
releasing the grip it had on the life it thought it possessed;
finding that it no longer exists at all.
There but for the grace of God,