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Book: Dark Poetry: synchronicity, coincidence, dream, God, consciousness: prose poem

A book excerpt from the spiritandflesh.com religion and spirituality online library.

 

               

 

being dreamed

  

As if you had been having a lengthy, passionate, intense conversation on the phone with one of your closest friends, only to find out that you had been speaking to an answering machine all along, and the recording was somehow perfectly timed and in sync with the conversation you thought you were having; every sentence, every pause, every rejoinder and every nuance was responded to, supported, contradicted, ridiculed and all the rest, as if it were a true dialogue with a living, loving being on the other end.

How to explain this? What odd twist of fate, or what cold, omniscient deception has created and allowed this mystic madness to occur? And yet, what if every conversation you have ever had, whether live or on the telephone, was just as such? What if every acquaintance, friend, lover, sibling, or spouse, was simply a planned recording to make you believe you were not the only person alive?

 

 

the record

  

There is a tape-recording which never stops and so records everything that is always going on. And we can go back and listen to pieces already recorded, though while we are playing those pieces the original tape is still running. So the tape recording of us listening to the tape recording is also recorded. And then we can go back and listen to the tape recording of ourselves listening to the tape recording of ourselves. And so on. The whole problem lies in us becoming trapped in one of the layers of recording- who knows how far from the real movement.

Like endless levels of lesser rememberings, we may arrive at one plateau, still far from the source and the ending, and there decide to dwell, cyclically listening to ourselves listening to ourselves listening to ourselves, ad infinitum, and all the while somewhere else we're still actually living. Somewhere, but where?

 

            Everything is Self, born out of, and overlapping Self, as if all of life is a divine, sublime palimpsest; we are God imprinted upon God imprinted upon God, and so on.

It is the multiple layers of reality, which emanate from the One, the singular event, which most confuses us, for each understanding, perspective, and vision must be placed within the context of the layer to which it applies, only then may it properly reflect the whole; to change layers, without altering one's vision, or one's understanding, is to become more lost in the new labyrinth which exists now only because one tried to improperly get out of the old one.

 

 

(excerpted from THE DREAM OF BEING: aphorisms, ideograms, and aislings, by Jack Haas)

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Books by Jack Haas. Autobiography, Memoir, Spirituality, Mysticism, Comparative Religion, Poetry, Art, Photography.