Wild Truth

The closer I get to moving from temporary life to eternal life, the more I have the sense of urgent things that need to be said.

One is that truth can't be owned.

I have spent most of my thinking life working out what ought to be thought. That's because I was brought up to find out what I ought to think.

I was a hopeless rebel. They told me I ought to think, feel and believe, but I couldn't work out what. Then, of course, I realized they didn't know, themselves. But because they were good people, I avoided a fight, as best I could,

So, ridiculously, I have spent many years fighting my own energy to avoid a fight, because I sensed it was a fight that couldn't be won.

It can't be won. So now we try a different way.

When you die, there's nowhere to go except on.

You don't just stop. That's overly modest thinking which assumes that you don't matter. Rubbish. You do.

The most vivid experiences that have come your way are an indication of how we go on. The truth is never a conceptual truth, nor a theological truth, nor a dogmatic truth.

It's no-one's truth, and the very big problem with humans is that some have tried to own it.

Try beauty.

We live on an awe-inspiring planet, a place of requirement of respect. When we experience it, as travellers do, we know it.



 

There are more indicators of how it pans out.

 

Try recognition. The key here is that if you don't respect your own body, you haven't got the path to recognize much else.

 

You go to your level, as you live, and that's where you stay unless you choose to change.

 

It's a communicative level, you connect without meaning to. Little bit scary. More comes to you than you go to.

 

You aren't in control of the patterns, neither now, nor ever.

 

 

 

From there, back to beauty.

 

Here in Africa, people film lions killing zebras. It's a sort of beauty, although not for the zebra. But the point I really want to make is that beauty isn't cosy.

 

Beauty and truth - these concepts that hover and hum like helicopters that are about to run out of fuel are wild, as our bodies suggest to our sophisticated minds.

 

When we run out of intellectual fuel, we'll feel this more sharply.

 

 

The very impulse to train human awareness is feral. They'll kill us every time we go towards a new belief that doesn't suit them.

 

Somehow, you have to overcome. Them? Us?

 

When they get wilder, as they do tend to, in spite of laws, regulations and sanctions; when their teeth show in spite of their proper words, what do we do?

 

You don't moderate emotions with intellectuality. Try sharpening intellect with emotional acuity and agility.

 

Wild truth is the stuff of heaven, I think. This intellect I've been given as a matter of neurological behaviour that I can't change at will is a case in point.

 

I'd prefer a cosy infinity, but even there, the kettle has to boil to make tea.

 

Wild truth. If the Eastern metaphor is water, the Western style is wilderness.