And Like this Insubstantial Pageant, Faded…

My time on this little podium is ending and the book will close. What remains is the “actuality of being” – each heartbeat unique, becoming instant memory. Yet that actuality is outside time because it is constant and yet is the embodiment of time, because its actuality is that mysterious thing – life herself – the only conduit of experience. As we’ve said, it is being.
Past, future and this book’s advice are nothingness. Being is the essential verb in a midden of nouns.
Life is common sense. Common sense is the measure of everything. It is what mystics from every culture have called timelessness – through veils of Maya and clouds of unknowing…
We Jongleurs de Joy can celebrate it, while the powers, who seek to mutate past illusions into future illusions must supress it. The “actuality of being” must be supressed (at all costs) by schools, universities and newspaper editorials. Life is the absolute lord of misrule.
That divide could be the ancient divide between church (ancestor worship, animism, polytheism and even monotheism) and the state. In history (and in guessed pre-history) the state (clan, tribe, family – even city-state) has usually been subject to a common, both spiritual and pragmatic vision. Now we have the opposite. Everywhere, church and state are becoming one. In other words, the church has been colonised by the status quo.
In more recent history, church and state have restrained each other into some sort of a balance of morality and amorality.
Listen – I attend no church, or temple and cannot say many of the things required of me, to belong in those communities. I fit the label of atheist.
Yet I think – no believe – that a common spiritual and pragmatic vision, is our last hope to evacuate the suicidal consensus of the powers. We cannot outstate the state, but we can out-believe it.
Only a common sense of being can outweigh the nothingness.
As Siegfried Sassoon said, surfacing from the deep trauma of an idiotic war – This is from memory, because I can’t find the book. Like much in life, the spine has fallen off –
“It is only from the inner-most silences of the heart, that we know the world for what it is, and ourselves for what the world has made us.”

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