(note: On my myspace page I post some rambling blogs. As I think I'll be spending less and less time there, I will bring over a few of my oddball sermons this way. Hope you like tea and this at least looks like your cup. Otherwise, ignore me.)
Dreams : Rogue States of Consciousness
Or 'Buddha is a Navy Seal.'
Brothers and Sisters, for millenia, untold centuries, scholars have wondered what the stuff of Dreams were made of. Are they glimpses into other worlds, other forms of being ? Are Dreamlands our true landscapes ? Are they just there to fuck with us ? No matter what, I think what can be said without argument is this:
Regardless of their motivation, Dreams are not to be trusted.
Perhaps they do mean well, but like the Navy Seal bodyguard that follows me around without my knowledge, secretly and efficiently dispatching foes I didn't even know I had, Dreams are dangerous not because of their positive effects, but because they know a lot that they aren't telling. Science claims that we use only a small portion of our brains on the conscious level. It can't agree on exactly how much, but it's tiny. 5% ? 10% ? 20 % ? Who knows ? There's a lot of room on a bell curve, and if there is one thing science CAN agree on, it's that math just barely works. For example, we have been raised to believe that humans are mammals with two legs. However, if you look at the 'math', statistics paint a very different picture. Let's say that 75% of the human population is born with 2 legs. 10% are born with none, 5% with one. Add in the occasional flipper baby (which is, in my book, one of the most poorly chosen medical terms in history !) and the much disdained male born with a third leg, and Voila ! We discover that humans are actually mammals born with 1.35 legs, not 2, as 'science' would lead us to believe ! But, I tangentialise. Sometimes, I let my smartiness get the better of me. Back to dreams.
If, at best, we are actively utilising only 20 % of our brains, the real question is this :
What is the other 80% up to?
I don't like it.
'Oh, come now,' you say, 'You are being paranoid !' Am I ? I think I'd know me, thank you very much, and if my 20% Conscious is definitely not to be trusted, I can only imagine what my 80% Subconscious has planned.
So, we sleep. We sleep and we dream and little tidbits of enlightenment are dangled in front of us, like so many candy-coated Skittle-Carrots. We wake with the taste of their Fool's Golden Rainbow still in our mouths, positive that we have tapped into something magnificent.
Brothers and Sisters, what spawned this sermon ? A Dream, of course. Der. A Dream that shook my very foundations of bitterness. A Dream that directly challenged my waking autonomy. Two nights ago, I fell asleep to what has become the comforting gaggle of anti-romance sentiments that I have come to know and love.
Not 'true love', mind you, because 'true-love' is a sham, but that isn't my point.
I drifted to the Dreamlands happily jaded and miserable, but was, against my conscious will, assaulted with the most beautiful images of romance, adoration and enchantment that true love could conjure. It was a crass collage of kisses, cuddles, and comraderie. In the infernal, climactic moments, my 80% pulled out the 75mm and laid in front of me the loveliest moment of all : A Dream-woman, an amalgam, of course, but clearly the love of my life. She took my face in her hands and joyfully, tearfully, told me she was pregnant. Even I, who am most certainly a much better uncle than I could ever be a father, was moved profoundly.
I woke then, actually crying, with Brahms composing a symphony for me and me alone. I floated through the first hours of the day Alive, enlightened, blissfully bursting with the power of romance. It wasn't until I'd downed 3 cups of coffee and smoked half a pack of coffin-nails that I realized the awful truth :
I know a lot more than think I do.
For some reason, however, I am doling out that information to myself in an extremely piece-meal and fragmented fashion. Are our Navy Seal bodyguards treating our enlightenment as Top-Secret, 'eyes only' information that is divulged sparingly, on a need to know basis ?
Perhaps.
Regardless, Brothers and Sisters, we better just get used to it, because chances are, we can't torture our sub-conscious into giving in before it, or WE, are ready. It's an F-ing Navy Seal, for god's sake !
Peace and Blessures, my friends!
Dreams : Rogue States of Consciousness
Or 'Buddha is a Navy Seal.'
Brothers and Sisters, for millenia, untold centuries, scholars have wondered what the stuff of Dreams were made of. Are they glimpses into other worlds, other forms of being ? Are Dreamlands our true landscapes ? Are they just there to fuck with us ? No matter what, I think what can be said without argument is this:
Regardless of their motivation, Dreams are not to be trusted.
Perhaps they do mean well, but like the Navy Seal bodyguard that follows me around without my knowledge, secretly and efficiently dispatching foes I didn't even know I had, Dreams are dangerous not because of their positive effects, but because they know a lot that they aren't telling. Science claims that we use only a small portion of our brains on the conscious level. It can't agree on exactly how much, but it's tiny. 5% ? 10% ? 20 % ? Who knows ? There's a lot of room on a bell curve, and if there is one thing science CAN agree on, it's that math just barely works. For example, we have been raised to believe that humans are mammals with two legs. However, if you look at the 'math', statistics paint a very different picture. Let's say that 75% of the human population is born with 2 legs. 10% are born with none, 5% with one. Add in the occasional flipper baby (which is, in my book, one of the most poorly chosen medical terms in history !) and the much disdained male born with a third leg, and Voila ! We discover that humans are actually mammals born with 1.35 legs, not 2, as 'science' would lead us to believe ! But, I tangentialise. Sometimes, I let my smartiness get the better of me. Back to dreams.
If, at best, we are actively utilising only 20 % of our brains, the real question is this :
What is the other 80% up to?
I don't like it.
'Oh, come now,' you say, 'You are being paranoid !' Am I ? I think I'd know me, thank you very much, and if my 20% Conscious is definitely not to be trusted, I can only imagine what my 80% Subconscious has planned.
So, we sleep. We sleep and we dream and little tidbits of enlightenment are dangled in front of us, like so many candy-coated Skittle-Carrots. We wake with the taste of their Fool's Golden Rainbow still in our mouths, positive that we have tapped into something magnificent.
Brothers and Sisters, what spawned this sermon ? A Dream, of course. Der. A Dream that shook my very foundations of bitterness. A Dream that directly challenged my waking autonomy. Two nights ago, I fell asleep to what has become the comforting gaggle of anti-romance sentiments that I have come to know and love.
Not 'true love', mind you, because 'true-love' is a sham, but that isn't my point.
I drifted to the Dreamlands happily jaded and miserable, but was, against my conscious will, assaulted with the most beautiful images of romance, adoration and enchantment that true love could conjure. It was a crass collage of kisses, cuddles, and comraderie. In the infernal, climactic moments, my 80% pulled out the 75mm and laid in front of me the loveliest moment of all : A Dream-woman, an amalgam, of course, but clearly the love of my life. She took my face in her hands and joyfully, tearfully, told me she was pregnant. Even I, who am most certainly a much better uncle than I could ever be a father, was moved profoundly.
I woke then, actually crying, with Brahms composing a symphony for me and me alone. I floated through the first hours of the day Alive, enlightened, blissfully bursting with the power of romance. It wasn't until I'd downed 3 cups of coffee and smoked half a pack of coffin-nails that I realized the awful truth :
I know a lot more than think I do.
For some reason, however, I am doling out that information to myself in an extremely piece-meal and fragmented fashion. Are our Navy Seal bodyguards treating our enlightenment as Top-Secret, 'eyes only' information that is divulged sparingly, on a need to know basis ?
Perhaps.
Regardless, Brothers and Sisters, we better just get used to it, because chances are, we can't torture our sub-conscious into giving in before it, or WE, are ready. It's an F-ing Navy Seal, for god's sake !
Peace and Blessures, my friends!
VIEW 5 of 5 COMMENTS
Yep, I'm not sure if I'm going to go for naked arc welding, could have distasterous consequences. The naked ironing could be potentially a little dangerous, but it was more about having the freedom to roam and do normal house hold tasks, dressed, or otherwise.
On a different note, I think you've hit the nail on the head about my tag. I love monkeys, in a purely platonic way of course, and they have large comic value. Add fire, and, well, who knows what could happen.
40K? I used to paint the miniatures many years ago. Ah, days shading space marines shoulder pads. Never really played though, apart from epic scale.
Very glad to have you on the friends list.
Last night resulted in reading and more reading. High excitement!