The modern equivalent of the mythic: ‘Disease, Old Age and Death’, the rousing that must precede every entry into the forest. A gentler sensibility than mine would have flagged the Buddhist ‘Suffering’ [Dukkha], instead of a futile senselessness.
I had been around. And I had slid. From an amused bemusement, past simple bewilderment, beyond all sophisticated skepticism, to a lurching unquiet desperation.
Scrape the surface and nothing makes sense. So I sit on the side and agree to pretend.
Cherished, coddled paradigms that are deeply conflicted are preserved precariously with strips and patches of facile assumptions, specious logic and authoritative bluster. A Learned Ignorance replaced by an erudite cleverness.
You are finally ready to allow the possibility [and just the possibility] that most explanations are deflections, denials and exalted rationalizations.
That a pious insanity is afoot.
Perhaps you are one of the blessed, one with an easy, resilient faith. You don’t see what all the fuss is about.
You don’t need Shūnyam. Nor suffer the long struggle to get to it. Go home.
The seemingly flip tone of many Posts reflects the truth that to render them seriously, wrap them in sober didactic discourse, simply compounds the absurdity of explanation.