SUPPOSE

Suppose with me a little while that the cosmos as we know it can be seen as a laboratory developed by love with great precision and in absolute order to give all subjects a chance to find out clearly what it is and what it is capable of, see what is to be done, and do it. One might think of it as a place a Creator made for Itself in order to know Itself better and, more important, what that means. In this lab one separates from reality then tries to find one’s way back home. Separate from reality, it really knows nothing. It is as if the action of returning from a hopelessly lost state itself brings an understanding by no other way obtainable. And perhaps the deeper one goes into the void the better. So, God separated Itself into billions of souls and here we are. 

God meets God along the way back to Heaven many times and at each intersection one soul serves the other on its journey, sometimes by tricks. For example one might tell the other you must obey some laws, of course, and names one or two examples he knows full well will fail just in order to help the other find that no method is going to work. Some of the time it will be the most helpful way of nudging someone to the next lesson or maybe cause someone to rethink what was just told it and tell the speaker to get fucked so as to be free from any outside influence. Only to realize later, I was stuck and that coyote helped me, and laugh. Laughter is good medicine.

A hint to help you with this is to remind you that an image of who you are was planted in your brain to build a set of  memories and to believe it all happened to it…take it personally.  All its memories are limited and incomplete of course. It is robot-like and lives on Desolation Row denying it is more like a Rolling Stone than anything else. It has served as your identity ever since implanted in your brain much as Pinocchio was carved by the woodcarver he believed to be his Papa. After awhile, living as the image and gathering stored memories of your life which is not your own, you become very lost from your true identity. Something inside is telling you that you need to go home but who can it be? The story of Pinocchio was written to appeal to children who are still somewhat aware of where they came from. All that you need do is realize for a moment that something has been watching all along the drama the imposter thinks is its life and that you are that which observes the observer. At that,  the memories and the image vanish. Your real life as a brand new real child begins; all that was required of you having been a willingness to roll as far as it takes to find her.