If I didn’t know better, I’d say that there was a certain rhythm to life, one that was reliable and could be counted upon to show up faithfully, to guide us on worthwhile paths. I’d see the tides come in and go out and come in again, and if I didn’t know better, I’d say that they were following some greater cycle. I’d say that they were experiencing a pull and a push and a pull again, and I’d wonder what else was feeling that constant pull and push.
|If I didn't know better, I'd see patterns everywhere . . .|
If I didn’t know better, I’d say that Mother Nature was farming the Earth during the fall as well as the animals during the rut. I’d see the lifeless seeds tossed about haphazardly, and if I didn’t know better, I’d say there was a deliberate method to the chaos and mad abandon of the proliferation of life. I’d marvel at the seeds having landed upon a fertile field, and if I didn’t know better, I’d say the fields of the Earth and of the female animals were ploughed by an unseen hand. I’d wonder about my own plans, my own ideas as seeds, and if there were some sort of connection in the planting of them. I’d wonder if I were a farmer, after all.
If I didn’t know better, I’d see the animation of life and the disintegration of death as two sides of the same coin. I’d watch the deer graze and the eagles dive for fish and the people eat their dinner, and I’d wonder which side of the coin I were witnessing. I’d toss that shiny penny high into the air, and if I didn’t know better, I’d swear that it would land heads and tails both up at the same time, depending upon how I wanted to see it. I’d see the existence and the nonexistence of all things simultaneously, each alive and dead at the same time. And I’d wonder about the mirage of difference.
Thank goodness there are so many rules and regulations in our society to help us figure it all out. Otherwise, we might be seeing things we shouldn’t, things that surely aren’t there, things that are the talk of conspiracy theories in dark, smoke-filled rooms. It would all be so confusing. Thank heavens for rational thought and a ready-made list of rules to follow. Otherwise, there’s no telling what kind of mischief we might get up to upon witnessing the familiar patterns of the natural world and feeling their rhythm in our own bones. Thank goodness we can rejoice in our obvious removal from the messiness of the living world.
Or maybe we do know about it, after all, and that’s why the noise and the distractions around us are so loud and garish and all-consuming. Whir-whir-whir goes the flying machine in the sky, 24 hours a day, seven days a week, with bread and circuses for all. Move along. Nothing to see here.