Who am I to say one thing is and another thing is not?  However, someone in my conscience asked me what my favorite moment was.  I answered with an un-answer by answering a different question, skirting about the issue.  At that particular detail I found an alternate detail of that thought more important, so I rudely ignored their point and pondered my own.  That’s just how I work at times.  It happens more so when the wind is blowing.  My thoughts are like tumbleweed and as the pneumatic wrapping about my lobe makes a move, those seedling thoughts are rustled about, oftentimes losing sight of the target. 

(pause)

Where was I?  Oh, yes, of course:  Moment.  As I am unable to say what is and what is not, then I am therefore unable to say there is anything aside from the whole of things.  The whole of things is Moment.  If a thing is not within the Moment then that thing simply is not a thing.  It cannot be considered and therefore has no existence.  However, I recently (within the last few sentences) pondered thing outside of Moment.  Does that, in essence, give existence to thing outside of Moment?  I think so.  And as I come to this uncovered piece of mystery, I retreat all previous thoughts.  As such, I start all over again from square 1.

My graffiti

Mankind is so selfish that we base all of our studies from ourselves, from within our reach.  That’s actually understandable since we are human after all.  But all that we know spews from our conscious foundation.  Everything we do and consider is humanly biased.  So who can say that an ant doesn’t have a conscience because it doesn’t perform tasks or reactions seemingly the same way humans do?  Ants are on a completely different and distinct level of existence.  Perhaps they don’t have minds.  Perhaps they have something else.  Or perhaps they do have minds but they are, in human perspective, meant for labor and reproduction and nothing else and their minds are set on just that.  They are not to love and hate.  Or- perhaps they do love and hate.  And perhaps their ant emotion is indiscernible in the human mind- if the human mind even exists.

A true study, one that is unbiased, needs to be approached from a standpoint where all things previous to the most recent tip of this continuously evolving moment, are undone.  One must strip him- or herself completely of knowledge and start from scratch.  Of course, many say we did that when one day, BLAM, we started to think.  We realized we could balance ourselves on two feet instead of four and stood up.  But no matter how many times we start over or how long we evolve or adapt, we will have a human bias from a human conscience.  We are the center of our own universe.  That universe, however, is not the universe that exists.  It is the universe that we perceive.  And we can merely perceive it in speck.  We cannot perceive Universe as Universe.  Our allowable span of sight from the naked eye halts at the blue atmosphere about our heads.  Sometimes when I stop where I walk and look up, I can almost see the blackness of space behind the blue.  But even then, how do I know it is black?  Isn’t it, in fact, not black but just almost empty?  Is it that there is most likely, from a human perspective, nothing between me and the next object which is supposedly millions or billions of light years away?  The lack of evidence between myself and the visible object provides a lack of light and color and offers up a lonely vacancy. 

In order for me to say “this is true” and “that is not,” I must first perceive the universe and all existence as Universe and Existence.  I must become such things to understand such things.  To know if an ant loves and hates I must be born an ant and at some point experience ant love and ant hate.  And yet, I also must at some point and in some way be human and have human perception in order to notate and accept that ants actually do love and hate.  And there needs to be another human to perceive my perception.  Otherwise, the ant would have the same words to write in its ant computer, wondering if those really tall things that lumber around, stepping on ant hills, love and hate.  It seems that in order for something to be true and accepted as such, something other than what is being considered must determine that that thing is true and accepted. 

It really doesn’t matter in the scheme of things, though.  For me to know that ants experience love and hate really doesn’t change anything.  Sure, I may get a better idea of “things.”  Knowledge is a wonderful article to have access to.  But what good will it do me to know that the ant I just stepped on was having a good day until I came around?  Maybe I can settle on the thought that if I know that the ant I murdered had feelings then I could study their species for the next million years in hopes that one day I’ll be able to communicate with them.  Maybe at that point they can share some pertinent information on saving this planet that we humans are destroying.  Maybe they know something we don’t.  They are much closer to the earth than we are. 

I will gladly meditate on that for the next 30+ years.  But I love my Starbucks.  I love running and golf.  I love to write meaningless essays and blogs.  I love the forest and the changing seasons.  I love to love and love to hate (otherwise, love wouldn’t be so special).  To watch a baby do its thing is precious.  To hold someone’s hand and walk with them through our favorite city is beyond words.

I need to be human.  I like it here.  And I think I’ll stick around for a good stroll.  Every once in a while I’ll wave to Existence and maybe even share a coffee with Universe.

By the way, sorry ant.  I didn’t see you there- really. 

That, perhaps, is humanly selfish because we, as humans, consider that we are the only creatures that bare conscience.  It also suggests that there is no God / god with psyche to perceive “thing.”  It suggests that Universe is not whole and self-sufficient / self-efficient.  It suggests that there is no intelligent life-form outside the composite upright of our race.  Or, perhaps, it simply suggests that no human, animal, God / god, Universe, or alien was in the forest that day.  Well that can’t be because even the agnostic knows there’s a universe and universe is omnipresent, seeing as how the universe contains all things.  Maybe the agnostic doesn’t give universe its capital designation “U,” acknowledging the conscience of universe.  That makes sense.  And that proves that all things are about perspective- according to the perceiver. 

But then I consider (and I unfortunately cannot accept credit for this thought) that when I sleep in a room, alone, do I exist?  Do I perceive myself whilst I sleep? 

It is my responsibility to do so when I am in wake.  But do I consciously give myself place in existence otherwise when I am stuck between cycles of awareness?  I certainly recall many a time during sleep that I dreamt terrible things, all the while knowing that I can simply wake up and be safe.  I knew I was sleeping and knew that the nightmare wasn’t only a dream.  But outside of those instances, I haven’t a clue that “I am.”  So if Descartes was correct, and if “I think there I am,” then I do not exist when I do not know I am sleeping.  And the tree suffers the same, lonely fate as I when I rest. 

How terribly depressing. 

The theory / fact of evolution is widely accepted by not only scientists and their peers, but by the lesser creature, civilians, if you will.  We are the ignorant ones.  We do not spend years in study trying to find the answer.  Our motivations squeeze from other outlets.  And so we trust what science comes up with, especially when science as a whole can agree on many points over such crucial studies as evolution.  It’s comforting to most of us when someone else is able to provide such solid evidence with a bunch of words we don’t know the meanings to.  All we really have to do is a bit of research, be patient and in time we can grasp a better understanding of what we read in that article that seemed to provide evidence that simply cannot be reckoned with.  But we are lazy.  And we are lazy enough to not think for ourselves and find the answers- for ourselves. 

We have accepted that science is the foundation on which our existence shall be one day determined.  We put all of our faith into people whose life work is just that.  And as we gather ourselves into this pool of acceptance and provide monetary and emotional support to our fellow humans donning lab coats, we almost seem to give up our rights to find the answers on our own terms.  We give up our rights.  I say that because after so many articles and books we read and so many documentaries we watch, we finally come convinced that they must be right.  The more you absorb someone else’s word, someone else’s beliefs, the longer you accept it without doing the work yourself and the harder it becomes to undo what those words have done.  It’s all too easy to let someone else handle the dirty work while we go about our business, blindly trying to walk through walls. 

Is that no different than an evolutionist saying a person of faith (religious) is blindly being led by a being or creator that cannot be seen and supposedly provides no physical proof of its existence?  No, it is no different.  A scientist can tell me all day long that the fossil records provide irrefutable truth- fact.  But should I really believe him or her?  A million scientists can say the same thing, but should I take them for their words?  On the other hand, a billion people say they are Christian and that Jesus Christ is the only answer.  Should I believe them? 

No, on both accounts.

I, a Christian, should read the bible to find my answers.  I should also look to other things in life, in my environment, in the universe to substantiate my belief system.  I, a Christian, should also read articles and books and blogs on science.  I should do research even beyond those words.  If I want answers for myself, I should go and get them.  Otherwise, I am a follower of something that merely says “it is true.” 

Science, however wonderful it is, is also merely human.  There are things in life and about life that are beyond the telescope and microscope, beyond the reach of the eye and the mind, even the heart.  A scientist can look only so deep before they find their human limit.  I can sit all day in a lab or in the field and study a certain specimen and continue on for years and a lifetime.  But I will never, in that lifetime, find the answer to how life truly works.  I can watch the cells multiply and die.  I can watch them do their daily thing.  But I can’t see what gives that cell life.  I cannot see or understand the Mechanism. 

Perhaps one day science will find the answer.  And for all I know, they may have been right the whole time.  But until that day I have a certain faith.  Scientists have a certain faith as well.  They believe that what they think is true even as they do not have the ultimate answer.  They can see evidence that evolution occurs.  But they don’t know where it started or what Oops occurred that set life into motion.  And there other scientists, many actually, that disagree on some of the most important topics.  I can read up on just as much “evidence” against evolution as I can “for” it.  Again, who am I to believe?  Common sense plays a factor.  But therein lays another problem.  Common sense to an evolutionist is not common sense to a creationist, and vice-versa. 

Common sense for me is exactly as I put it earlier, go and get the answers yourself.  If you can only go so far, then go as far as you can before you decide what you believe.  An evolutionist, or any scientist, should read the bible.  If they don’t, then they simply cannot maintain that what it states is incorrect.  Likewise, a Christian should do their research in as many sciences as possible.  It might be a bit more difficult for the Christian as they have one book and science is so broad.  But it can and should be done.

Go as far as you can.  Do not judge.  Do not set yourself on a pedestal and expect that you have the answer until you have done the labor and exhausted all resources.  It’s a lifetime worth of trudging, but the trudging is worth it.  Otherwise, you wake, you eat, you work, you eat, you shop, you exercise- maybe, you make love, you sleep, you start over.   

I can easily compare this to Addiction. The whole nervous system of a body that desires one thing, one fix from one unattainable thing, wraps itself eternally about that thing, the essence of that thing, the existence of that thing- the distance between itself and the existence of that thing. And at every other turn I have to remind myself that “this really is just a word and there’s a bowl of cereal there, unfinished, soggy, ready for your attention- while to hover over this word.”

It’s not just a word. It’s an itch. And I can conquer entire galaxies with such a word. I can weave and stretch a canvas about the borders of the Milky Way and spew rhythm and assumption in perfected punctuation and reasoned space of etymological cacophony about the word. Or I can set myself at the evening side of a mountain, resting my chin deep into my palm with my elbow to my knee and my heel to the stone. And with a gasp and a sudden jerk of my head I will be Enlightened! I will shoot up and find the nearest oak to borrow a worthy strip of bark. I’ll find a peacock and beg a hidden feather of unimaginable hue for a moment or few. I’ll find purple’d berries and squeeze the juice in a leaf and find my stone again. There I will sit and engrave the meaning of life, utilizing this extraordinary word INTRINSIC. And should this occasion fall on a rotation that finds me with lover at home and a liaison to be reckoned with, I shall enhance the glow of the setting sun and let all eyes of Creation see that this word, this ever relevant word…this…word…

…is really, after all, just a word. And the more I dwell on it; the more I say it over and over…the more I hear it and analyze it and concentrate on its innards; the more I ponder the collection and arrangement of its letters; the more I un-paint the picture and spread the pieces out across my palm like a handful of marbles; the more I listen to its consonants and vowels…

…the more it becomes inorganic; inanimate; purposeless.

Still, the idea of one word bringing me this far… How one word can stick to your lobe and bend your ear for so long. Fact is it’s not just that one word. There are countless words that bite at my heels, stealthily following me to every blank page or screen. There are numerous concepts that so easily reveal themselves when they are least expected.

They are, however, mere concepts, mere words. Dreams are mere dreams and love affairs are mere love affairs…

…until they are put in the right place, shared with the right people, considered with the right intention, admired with the right heart…

Alone they are nothing. What is accomplished with them and how they are used is what matters. I, like the word Intrinsic, am nothing as a stand-alone. But when I stand next to someone or in a group, I become something because I am then worthy of comparison. To know something is to have the ability to parallel that piece of thought with an occasion of circumstance unfolded within an action and acceptance of knowledge. Understanding can only occur if there is a frame, a canvas and an acknowledgement that this “color is red” because I have seen and know that there also exists Blue, Green, Orange, etc. Those colors are further proven by their absence, which then produce White and Black. White and Black are proven by the appearance and disappearance of the former colors.

In a world full of people who are bent on individualism, I must recognize that without those individuals I cannot be who I am today. It’s a debilitating thought, a deflating thought to consider that if I were the only human on this planet, I would be a mere dot…actually, no, I would be nothing. Who else is there who can consider my existence? I depend on my brothers and sisters to know that I am Jonathan. I depend on them to consider me to prove that I truly am who I think I am. If it were just I, do I have the ability to confirm that I am I? Does not the human condition require a committee of at least one other person to confirm one’s existence?

My head hurts.

The human condition also contains a certain and absolute uniqueness among each earth dwelling upright.  A human’s genetic makeup may come across as similar to another.  And we all surely look the same to the foreigner- 2 legs, a couple of eyes and a head.  But what happens in the head, behind the eyes, in the heart is as inimitable in the individual as the number 1 is within 6.8 billion- and then some.  The essence of a being that has the power of consciousness, love and experience of emotion can never be matched.  Dreams are incidents that may share the same details as another person’s, but what that dream means to the individual is incomparable.  And there are numerous aspects of the dream within the whole that are never contrasted. 

I would hope that every single person I ask would agree.  You are unique.  There is none like you.  You may have the same needs as I.  I may have the same desires as you.  But my emotions, my experiences are in no way comparable to yours. 

And so…beyond this and without our collective acknowledgement of this privilege…

You have become a statistic.  I have become a statistic.  We watch documentaries and read articles about starvation and civil wars.  We witness the murdering of 1000’s of people at a time.  Wars produce millions of deaths.  The denial of free food and health care to impoverished nations and communities brings even more deaths than war. 

How does someone sit by, watching this happen without lifting a finger?  How, for example, do governments see evidence of genocide in Darfur and let it slip by because it would cause trouble?  What kind of trouble?  Sure someone will die.  But the inhabitants of Darfur certainly don’t see that as a problem.  Hundreds of them die and are raped every day.  

Seeing faces scroll across the $2300 Hi-Def television in my living room, those faces that can almost seem indifferent, life-less.  What choice have they?  After witnessing their own family shot to death, where would they find the strength or reason to express care?  There are no words to describe what they are forced to deal with.  They are a simple statistic.  They would prefer to be my statistic or your statistic, but they have no choice. 

Human life to the collective is no longer Human Life.  The collective consists of individuals who care for themselves only.  The collective sees a lifeless, blank face on TV’s and billboards and considers it nothing more than pixel and space.  I walk down the street of DC or NYC and see these pictures and I have no sense that behind those faces are dreams that are 1:6.8 billion unique.  What I care about is getting to my next destination, getting my cup of coffee and sitting with a friend hovering over an otherwise meaningless conversation.  And, thank goodness, someone else will care for that vacant face.  Someone else will send food and care.  Someone else will give the homeless man I just crossed paths with a dime or a few. 

And then a week later, after all the coffee has been drunk and the conversation forgotten.  After another 6 or 7 days of death and starvation, I’ll hold myself hostage behind the blinking cursor of my Personal Computer.  I’ll sip some chamomile tea and delve into a melee of words and anger against the world for being so cruel.  “How can you let this happen, World?  Who the f*ck do you think you are?  Who gave you the right to take and eat while Vagabond rustles through your garbage?  Who told you it was all right to let a whole nation of people sift away to nothing while you sit at your coffee shop table with your friend, arrogantly sipping away at your $4 coffee- that you paid with credit- with money you don’t even own? And how dare you spew vain words when someone asks you your opinion on poverty, puffing your chest like it can’t contain the oversized (albeit black) heart?”

Human life, then, is only human life to the individual (?).  Is it that since I am only present in my conscience and that only I can speak for myself, that I am only human to me, to my acknowledgement?  Is it that every other “person” I see isn’t really a person at all?  Are they pieces of my conscience, a collection of random-looking objects that merely help me get through the day?  And am I to only tap into my created placards when I feel the necessity, when I am feeling blue and need some contact?

Who am I? 

I am self-centered, and I need a cup of coffee.  Care to join me?

Remember that you are human.  Remember, then, that I am human.  The only thing that separates you from me and me from you is distance.  Distance can be removed by a variety of means.  The one method that will never be used to remove that distance is force.  And so that means your presence as Visitor is expected to be one of peace.  War does not exist at my bench and so if I have offended you with any of my words, either approach me with mutual respect or don’t bother stopping by.  My philosophy (well, one of them) is that the one who is offended bares the fault of the offense.  Life and all things therein are what you make them once they are in your grasp.  Words that oppose your view are to be absorbed and placed carefully in safe corners.  If I hear or read words that might offend me, it is my duty to take them in and do good with them, or simply cast them aside and move on to the next obstacle.  A gentleperson’s debate is golden as long as it stays gentle.

And we all share the same planet.  We all have basically the same questions.  We are all searching for basically the same thing.  And I know that the worst way to try and settle my inquest is walking over others, pushing them aside, beating them down as I climb to a destination and holding them back while I scratch my way forward.

Perhaps there’s a bit of cheese in all of that.  But without cheese, we would be a bunch of sorry saps- sitting around waiting for the bus that simply won’t arrive, while our whiskey glasses dry out and out puffing pipes settle off.

Enjoy.