Suppose
that’s true. Suppose steel walls or time and space can’t block
it. Suppose it’s always there, no matter what we do to remain
unconscious about it.
Suppose it’s always there between us and those we love, no matter where they’ve gone or we’ve gone. Suppose nothing can stop it.
What would that mean?
The lost shall be found.
And if we knew that as clearly as we know the table and chairs and the lamp are in the next room, what then?
Everything would change.
People
who say what I’m suggesting is a fairy tale would actually see all
sorts of their own fairy tales dissolve and vanish. Their fairy tales
made out of so-called hard reality. Gone.
Suppose someone said we live in a war zone surrounded by a sea of love, and he was right.
And doom is the perpetual lie.
And doom can only be extended by people who tell themselves that story on and on.
These
thoughts (they’re more than thoughts) have occurred to me a number of
times. For example, listening to one of the endless philosophic lectures
of J Krishnamurti. The man could certainly make salient points, but by
and large he rolled out complex and seemingly DISTANT ideas over and
over, as if he were a recording device. And I thought---he needs a woman
to walk up to him and kiss him on the cheek and put her hand on his
forehead and smile at him. He needs her to take his hand and lead him
into a nice room where they sit together on a couch and tell stories and
laugh. Then they walk into the kitchen and cook a decent meal together
and sit down and eat. That’s what the man needs. And then he’ll be all
right.
So would anyone.
And
if the separation (time and space) was really just a kiss not being
kissed, when of course it could be, then we’re rolling dice at a table
knowing that when we want it, there is always a seven waiting right
around the corner. At that very moment, knowing this, the entire casino
(or the war) lifts its own cover, and all concerned parties pop the
corks on bottles of champagne that have been sitting in the cellar since
the beginning of history and since we began telling all our stories.
Somehow, woven into all the stories I’ve been writing these years, that story is there; a holiday which I declare.
I just wanted you to know.
~~~
(The link to this article posted on my blog is here.)
(Follow me on Substack, Twitter, and Gab at @jonrappoport)
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