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And how can the body be real if (hypothetically speaking) everything is phenomenal, originating in Nothing?
Eh?
All of your experience, phenomenological or otherwise, is dead, in the past, framed and put in a box by the totality of your individual memories and the memories of the entire species and culture that has gone before you overlaid as a lens through which you apprehend the data received by your senses. Your senses themselves, they exist in the now, they function in time and in tune with what is, or appears to them from their refernece point, to be occuring. 'You', the thoughts and feelings about those data, discriminate between them. Your olfactory sense knows what to do if it is likely to suffer damage as a result of excessive olfactory data, or your auditory-nervous system knows to move away from a source of pain or damage to its perfection...'You' are the discrimnatory factor that would rather listen to a piece of music than a cat fucking, or smell roses instead of dogshit. The sensory data itself is undiscriminated and homogenous, equivalent, one thing, non-preferential to yyour organism. It's all the same stuff.
As Lucky Liquid Swordz put it, there is very little to be gained by questioning the existence of your body...
What's the point of existing if non-existence is, in the end, our final fate?
Why do 'you' want to know? And who is this 'you' anyway? Curiosity, so I'm told, killed the cat.
You are going to get Alzheimer's if you continue using your thinking mechanism in masturbatory and preposterous ways. It will wear out.
Is there a God? What is the meaning of Life? Does magic exist? Do I exist? Is my body real? All else is bondage, wtf?
Do you see why Zen monks like to beat their initiates over the head repeatedly with a stick?
Can you, as the vernacular would have it, grok this little koan:
Before enlightenment: Draw water, carry sticks.
After enlightenment: Draw water, carry sticks.
If you like, more wordwank: The point of existing is to once again, in this eternal and infinitely entertaining and diverting dance / comedy / tragedy / artwork / insert narrative preference here, hide within seperative consciousness in order to search for the invitation to awaken to its delightful, and ongoing game of seperation from the One Isness that is always and already ever present and arising.
Hide and Seek. Boo. First thing that babies like to play. Now you see me, now you don't. Awakening to the dream, but not from it, Matrix fans. As the little bald kid who can't act would have it : "That's Impossible."
That's my bullshit, anyway. What's yours? Fuck everyone else, they don't know what the fuck's going on either. Kenneth Grant cannot help you. I certainly can't, and this thread has less chance than Craig has of winning Big Brother. Make it up. Sound like you mean it. Sell it if you want, people love to buy into this crap. |
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