How or why are we born… Luck of the draw ?… to do what with exactly ? How many times have you thought that,
‘I could have been born anywhere as anyone else’ , or, I was born like me and can’t even understand how that came to be, as I mostly can’t even fix a plug ‘, or even, ‘ You can’t take it with you… so where the bloody hell did it come from ? ‘
Yet we play at being ourselves from many different places. Publically, then again privately , then unconsciously,or even in sleep, and all given by what from where? The grace of God , or the holy spirit ? Sure, we act out as if we have organised every single functioning cell and all we have to do is launch ourselves into our daily rituals as if there was no tomorrow. But this thing called life is very very unique, …. officer.
Absurd, when one considers the chances of it being like it is. We see , we hear, we notice , we smell the lillies, we complicate, we resolve. We even think there’s rationalities to endure like work or the search for the fulfilled libido…. and we continue to act out. Albeit compulsively, because even not to be, would require something inconceivable when actually even nothing, ….is. Obliged to the ineffable. Ineffably obliged.
So from that point of view, looping the loop becomes the only observable responsibility.
??
The considerations become too vast to maintain our fragile credibility in the face of. We loop and loop again, until the factness of life becomes us. No longer agents of will, but the will itself made flesh…. but something that doesn’t include us any longer , the spirit made flesh. Just take a moment.
Notice.
Fuck me, I’m alive.
in-eff-able and utterly full of experience, which can be too much, because apparently you or I have no choice in the matter… we never did…and if you did, just thank your lucky stars…
of course if life is a bit worse than you prefer in any way shape or form.. you know , when being faced with it when you’d rather not be… or when there’s suffering right next to you and you can do little or nothing to stop it repeating, or when the little flecks get in your eye, and the tears flow….
remember the inexorable endless demand to just … oh well just make it through…..
Thank you Sooooo much, Osho…… and the life that made you and all and us and…
Take the ribbon from your hair….
Oshopirates 