And then the politician’s mask slid off, revealing the snarling monster underneath.
And then the snarling monster’s mask slid off, revealing the frightened little child underneath.
And then the frightened little child’s mask slid off, revealing the whole entire universe underneath.
And then the universe’s mask slid off, revealing unconditional love underneath.
And so many hungrily yearn for a direct experience of the divine while adamantly refusing to consider the possibility that they are already currently having one.
And so many long to meet God while forcefully shoving away the question of whether they are in fact meeting God here and now, undisguised and unhidden.
And so many look for truth with truth’s eyes, listen for truth with truth’s ears, pray for truth on truth’s knees, ponder truth with truth’s mind.
It takes so much effort for us to keep concealing the self-evident from ourselves. We are herculean Olympians. They should give us all medals.
Anne looked forward to five o’clock so she could go home and alter her state of consciousness, not noticing that she was already currently doing so. Egoic consciousness is an altered state of consciousness, and it warps and distorts our natural experience far more than any substance we could ever ingest.
What we long for is an unaltered state of consciousness. Our natural state of consciousness. A state of consciousness wherein we are no longer fooling ourselves, where we are no longer pretending to be something that we are not. Where we are no longer pretending that our fundamental identity is wrapped up in this tiny finite ape mutant and the stories rattling around in its skull.
Among the more heroic contortions we do in our desperate everyday evasions of self-knowledge is dressing up our true underlying desire as other, different desires. We pretend we desire approval, fame, fortune, success, romance, power, loyalty, control, when really what we desire is to be what we are.
And of course that sounds silly; we can only ever be what we are. But we desire to be what we are consciously. Knowingly. Our real underlying desire, beneath all the clown costumes, feather boas and Groucho Marx glasses we dress it up in,