It’s the transience of existence that frightens people into clinging to their primitive realities. This is what occurs to me as I’m thinking about all of those times I’ve had some kind of philosophical or cognitive breakthrough. I am always in the midst of some mundane, but attention demanding, task—like having a shit or waiting for the light to change in traffic—when it strikes. Lightning, sort of. It’s never as profound as other people make such realizations out to be. It’s more like, remembering where I left my glasses, except instead of glasses I get a clear view of reality for a moment in regard to something I’d been thinking about. I think people that describe their “life changing bolts from the blue” are full of their own shit and are holding on too tight. Either that or I’m not doing it right.
I happened to be in traffic the other day when I think I experienced a mini-nirvana. I even chuckled a little bit to myself at how underwhelming it was – however profound. In terms of heart-pounding excitement, this rated up with finding matching socks while folding laundry. Maybe I was just having a mini-stroke.
I don’t even meditate that much lately. Not in the traditional “sit down” practice anyway – most of the meditation I engage in is at bedtime when I am drifting between states of process. I like it in there, when I can crawl inside without bursting the bubble. I float. I breathe. I watch the patterns melt before my dream eyes. When the time comes, I let my dream-self dissolve into the walls. It’s nice.
