If I knew, I would tell you.

What can I tell you? I have no answers. Though I have, through the murk, perceived many golden images of reflected truth, heard many stories from great minds that see further than I, all I can tell you is that I am here, now. So many theories, so many explanations, and none are definitive. All fall short of the truth, for they are but fragmented images, filled in with the conceits and fancies of the imagination. We stumble in the dark, we cannot see. We strive and strain for knowledge, but ever does wisdom elude us.

Some say we are evolving from the muck towards higher levels of being. Others say we are fallen gods, trapped by our inability to recognize and reclaim our own forgotten power. We live in oh, such special times – that oh, maybe aren't so special after all. The spirits, the sages, the secret teachings of all ages: we turn to them for help, and find that there is no one to follow. For to follow any one for too long is to stray into distraction. To make progress, we seek always to see beyond the next bend, to what remains hidden. And yet no progress is possible, all paths appear dead ends. Is there any hope of spiritual gain? Must we first abandon hope?

I will tell you what I know. I know that I am here, now. And, if there is any logic to the universe, I have a point of origin from which I emanate as my seeming self in time and space. By the power of divine will, by choice, by belief, and by agreement is this world made solid around me. I know that this is not my home, but that I chose to be here, to experience this incredible, immersive game in the most potent way possible. And so I appear to be contained, restrained, repressed, weakened, limited, blinded, maimed, diseased, trapped, confused, deceived, in pain, in need, and utterly, utterly lost. And yet... I am here, now. I am inside the illusion, far from home... and yet, home is where I am already, in that eternal state from whose bland absolutity I escaped by coming here to play. I know that even that scenario is just another story in a creation full of story. But it suits me at this moment.

What else is there but all that is?

I've heard it said, for what it's worth, that the truth won't set you free. First it'll piss you off, and then you'll realize that you were free all along. Make of that what you will.

I know that if I only knew, I'd know that I was free. And sometimes I feel it, like the fleeting touch of a distant memory. Freedom. And yet it is always there, just waiting to fill my awareness if I but choose to let it in.

This is the story of all stories. Choose yours with care, or have it chosen for you. Either way, it's your adventure. And at the end of it, should you choose to make an end, you'll find yourself back home and realize that you never even left. So, might as well make the most of it. Tell yourself a story worth the telling.


    The Dog Poet's latest audioblog comes as a fitting contrast and complement to my thoughts above.