The Gravity Of The Situation

Have you ever known a ship to come back for you? Or a train? A bus? Once it's sailed off, there's no turning back. And if it does return, it's only ever an illusion, a mirage on the horizon, in the desert...of your mind.

"That fucking thing called Time," as Sly put it...gosh, he explains it so well. You can feel it in your bones and what Gurdjieff referred to as the Heiropass. That even God is bound by the effects of time. 

Knowing that kills me every time.

I've heard people say how fortunate they've been to be leading good lives. 'Good' is defined as living in the absence of disease and in the absence of poverty. In other words, life has been good to them by rewarding them with health and prosperity. 

Is that why I'm here? The gravity of this realization hits me. We've mistaken the illusion for reality. We've made the illusion the goal. And on and on it goes. 

Let me put on this face for a little longer while gravity pulls me down. All the botox in the world can't change where this road leads...for me, for you, for everyone. It's the one and only true thing we all have in common. The certainty of death.

You think me morbid?

There is no urgency to leave something behind in the land of distortion and bling. I don't want to be a slave to this machine. I only want to know who I am.

That's the only real goal and aim. I thought it might be to serve the other. No, I'm not that noble.

I'm aware of this monstrous, mechanical falseness that manages to live and breathe through my life and my breath...

May I give birth to something good, of value, that transcends this time and this space.

So Mote It Be.