I'm fond of encapsulating the meaning of life in a pithy phrase. Only problem is, I keep coming up with different capsules.
Back in my psychedelic-fueled youth, it was "the universe is a paper bag turned inside out." Recently, I realized that it was folly to "overlay the actuality of my day with an idealized version of it."
Today, it's "make life more of a silent movie." This thought came to me, and it seemed so enormously profound I instantly knew it must be the key to understanding everything.
I only wish I understood what I said to myself.
But, ooh! -- that's it! Not understanding my own mental speaking is exactly what I need to know. So I've got it! By not having it.
I seem to be telling myself something along the lines of my previous, "Hey God, shut up! No more conversations." However, since it isn't possible to step into the same thought-river twice, that can't be true.
I just enjoy the image of life being a silent movie. I don't mean totally silent, because there still are sounds in it.
At the moment I'm blogging away on my laptop in a coffee house. People are talking. The expresso machine is making whooshing sounds. Music is playing in the background. I can hear a teeny-tiny click as each of my new MacBook's keys are pressed.
Someone could make a movie of this scene right now, and they'd capture all that I just mentioned. Because it's real. Everybody in Salem's Blue Pepper could experience what I am, if they paid attention (and borrowed my computer for a while).
What's missing from this silent movie reality is the overlay of voices within my head. You know these voices. We're all familiar with them.
"Am I going to be able to finish this post before my dance lesson? ... only got ten minutes ... That woman has an annoying laugh ... wish they'd play better music ... hey, dude, turn down your computer's speaker, can't concentrate with a You Tube video blaring in my ear."
These voices -- they're with us almost everywhere we go. Yes, they're a part of reality. But they're my reality, and your reality, not our shared reality.
This is the beauty of a silent movie. It just is what it is, no narration or interpretation required. Life is a lot simpler when the screen of consciousness we're viewing it on isn't filled with unnecessary verbiage.
Voiceovers supplied by us aren't required.
Such is the province of religion: supplying concepts and beliefs that become a obtrusive dogmatic soundtrack playing over the silent movie of unadorned reality.
Parking places downtown are scant. Ah, a car just pulled out -- right in front of the place I want to go. Praise the Lord! Or Jesus, the guru, Allah, a guardian angel. Inside his or her mind a true believer narrates an imaginative metaphysical story about a down to earth event.
I am being taken care of. How blessed it is to have a friend in _____ [fill in name of favorite divine being].
I used to enjoy hearing those sorts of voices inside my true believing head. Now, silence is more appealing.
Then I'm better able to hear reality say, What's happening is what's happening.