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I write and live with my beautiful wife, Sandra, and sons (Solstice, Finnegan and Brahms) in a little-big house on a dirt road in a valley in the hills. My secret identity struggles through the grind of teaching high school English to the denizens of Vermont's Northeast Kingdom.

Sunday, November 22, 2009

A philosophical thought

"Nothing is real; and nothing to get hung about." John Lennon and Paul McCartney

I was thinking this morning about illusion. The thing about gnostic thought that aligns most with my intuit understanding of the world is that everything is an illusion. I'm not, of course, an illusion, at least, not that observer, that inner spark that looks out at the illusion and sees what is indicated that is false and what is real. Anyone who has fallen in love knows that the other people around us aren't illusions, however many illusions we put in front of ourselves or trick ourselves into believing about ourselves.

What if it is all an illusion? That would mean the only real thing is us. If that is true how precious is each and every one of us. We are like the stars dropped into a vast empty space and yet we light the night, we guide sailors to harbor, we have the future written in the vast networks we make in the night sky, we help mystics find the christ child. Extended metaphor aside: if we could only see life like this all the time, life itself would change...

How could we be cruel to each other, lose sight of each other's humanity, when all we have that is real is each other? How could we become confused that money or race, or anything else is more important than our fellows.

Also: as a fantasy writer I think I am constantly subconciously playing with the idea that all is an illusion. The federal reserve is an illusion, yet if enough people believe in it, it becomes some kind of illusory nightmare, some Frankenstein overlord that throws people out of their homes, eats and is always hungry. So goes with all our pursuits, our creeds, our institutions.

Which means unicorns exist. I've seen them.

So take a minute as you are consuming the illusory turkey this week, and maybe sitting back to watch your illusory football games and look at who is on the counch beside you, or who is asking for the imaginary dinner rolls across the table. Peering out though those two imaginary portholes in those ridiculous looking heads is the real deal. Those are the lights that shine out, some confused, some scared, some truly unaware of their own brightness, but lights none the less to brighten and guide your way. Be thankful for them. Know that the only thing to break this illusion, to bridge the long fathoms of space is that light, and that light is love.

You can believe in your little illusions, it is a free world. Try not to get confused into thinking a group of shining lights is the illusory enemy. Meet each light with the respect and the awe that is required when meeting that tiny celestial ember of the divine fire.

Finally, if this supposition be true, than world peace, is attainable, just as a goal line, or a sung song is attainable, it happens when any two lights meet, it happens purely through perspective.

And, yes, Virginia, there is a Santa Claus.

Love and peace to you and yours,


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