First, foremost and forever, I write for my own benefit. No, I don’t hope to create a best seller; I’m not talking money here. Rather, I want, as I’ve mentioned, to clarify my musings and cobble together a super-philosophy, one that attacks and conquers every nitty-gritty gripe concerning existence. This for me is more important than any revenue-earning exercise that I might fritter away my time at (trading hours for a handful of dimes). My goal is a comprehensive and coherent new world overview. Think Mein Kampf, but a benign and friendly version.
If you want to learn something, do so by teaching it. That’s my master plan: to write in order to hone the inner monologue. Do it to yourself, and for yourself (I tell myself). Explain the stuff that I’ve discovered in my mind to my own mind.
Besides, I might one day end up with Alzheimer’s. I might need to re-educate myself—a Flowers for Algernon situation—about the person I once was. I might need to reacquaint myself with what I achieved (or at least aspired to). And for that, this magnum opus would serve.
Alternatively, this could be a legacy for my descendants—surely a kinder mob. Or, if I run afoul of the Law and slide down a black hole of criminality—or insanity—these pages could serve as breadcrumbs in the dark. They may enable the men in blue coats or white to track me down, perhaps to analyze and prescribe the appropriate medication or set a just sentence.
Or do I throw caution to the wind and address myself to friendly aliens, empathetic time-travelers from the future, or to the ‘singularity’, the super A.I. par excellence that is expected to spontaneously emerge from its world-wide-web?
Time is merely part of the mechanism that serves to separate. It allows us to view the multiplicity of the instants of our ‘being set’ as separate moments. They may be compared. “See me then, see me now,” we exclaim, “I must be changing, evolving and growing!” That is how it seems, although in reality we are part of a tableau.
Count yourself lucky if your portals are clear enough to grok what is what. Such a perspective is impermanent. I too catch only glimpses. But from where I stand now I can tell you that nothing is worth worrying about. Nothing is worth crying over. Nothing is a matter of do-or-die (though that is certainly how it feels).
Experience is the issue. Experience is the coin of this realm. The grand conspiracy makes it possible for God to experience life from the widest variety of angles. Variety has been hard-wired into our very being. We are ‘different’ so as to be able to experience our self from multitudinous points of reference. Right now, as I say, I can see that (and right now you may be able to understand). The glass in the windows of the vehicle of this particular model and brand allows me to see it. And I have this lifetime, day or instant to convey that meme.
My aim in enlightening you is purely selfish. It’s not done out of the goodness of my heart. No, I have an ulterior motive for this exercise in intellectual grooming. To be brutally honest, I dread the thought of waking up next morning trapped behind your eyes, together with the memory of all those years lived as you under whatever paradigm you follow. Ugh! The thought makes me shudder. I couldn’t stand to be you.
The whole point of my spending today—these twenty-four hours—to create this magnum opus is to make available to me (when I flitz into you) the wherewithal to escape—consider this as liberation literature. And, just as I only have this day of opportunity, so do you. You’ve discovered this text online? Download it right away and start digesting this baby: Virginia from Rickmansworth’s 100-minute bible.
