I get the sense many of us are waiting for the big narrative implosion - that Götterdammerung supernova that will occur when the fiery ball of lies can no longer withstand the pressure of truth and, thus, begin to cave in on itself like an imploding star.
I imagine many of us wake up and scan the headlines looking for signs of a much needed and sorely overdue disintegration of the unholy collection of stories that has enslaved the world.
Every now and then we perceive a spark that could send the whole shabby affair up in flames. We wait breathlessly for the spark to catch, for the waves of fire it will surely ignite in an endless sea of minds and hearts.
And we lower our heads in disappointment when the spark grows cold or is dutifully extinguished by the determined heel of some storyteller's boot.
Yet the next day we awaken with renewed hope. Perhaps today will be the day. Or tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow. On bad days, we question the Will of God and wonder why He allows the travesty to drag on, seemingly endlessly. He could bring an end it all in a blink of an eye . . . why doesn't He? We lower our eyes to the headlines once more and continue searching for sparks.
And through all of this we miss the obvious - the narrative has already collapsed. Perhaps not at the collective level, perhaps not en masse, but certainly at the level of the individual - within the hearts of individuals scattered throughout the world. In this sense, God has already brought an end to it all and often in the blink of an eye.
From the seemingly narrow confines of our individual lives, the collapsed narrative seems trivial, almost meaningless. Our personal awareness does not appear to affect anything, let alone exert any force on the ever expanding ball of superheated lies engulfing the world.
Rather than provide reprieve, the collapsed narrative becomes a burden. It drives us into proverbial self-exile and distances us from others. We find it increasingly impossible to play along, and we find it even harder to find people with whom we can share truth.
At times, we might even wish we could go back to believing the narrative again, but we know we cannot. We cannot un-see what we have seen. We cannot un-think what we are thinking. We cannot un-discern what we have discerned.
So with a sigh, we return to headlines and concentrate our hopes on the next spark we detect. Surely, this will be it, we whisper the moment a much-awaited glint catches our eye. This will be the thing that brings it all down. It is too undeniable. Too true. Too real. Even the blind will see it. Even the brainless will understand . . .
What we don't get is that we don't need the blind to see it or the brainless to understand it. We don't need something to bring it all down because the very fact we don't believe it has already brought it all down.
The narrative is not Reality, it is merely an eclipse of Reality. A shadow cast over Reality does not negate Reality, nor does it replace Reality anymore than the shadow of the moon replaces the sun during a solar eclipse. The sun appears obliterated, but it remains behind the moon, shining brightly despite everything.
When the narrative collapses within us individually, not only are we are able to see the sun behind the shadow, but we become a little sun on the opposite side of the shadow shining up through the murk.
We become beacons of light - pinpoints of Reality poking holes in the narrative shroud. To those who oppose God and Creation, each tiny hole in the narrative is a sun unto itself, and it burns through all the lies and deceits. Each pinpoint is a painful reminder that Reality is still there behind it all, despite everything. Even worse, it is a painful reminder that Reality is still there in front of it all because a single individual grounded in Reality contains the entirety of Reality within himself or herself.
And one day Reality will break through once and for all, but this is no less significant than Reality breaking through once and for one today.
Note added: I apologize for the mixed metaphors; I wrote this during an inspired whim.
I imagine many of us wake up and scan the headlines looking for signs of a much needed and sorely overdue disintegration of the unholy collection of stories that has enslaved the world.
Every now and then we perceive a spark that could send the whole shabby affair up in flames. We wait breathlessly for the spark to catch, for the waves of fire it will surely ignite in an endless sea of minds and hearts.
And we lower our heads in disappointment when the spark grows cold or is dutifully extinguished by the determined heel of some storyteller's boot.
Yet the next day we awaken with renewed hope. Perhaps today will be the day. Or tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow. On bad days, we question the Will of God and wonder why He allows the travesty to drag on, seemingly endlessly. He could bring an end it all in a blink of an eye . . . why doesn't He? We lower our eyes to the headlines once more and continue searching for sparks.
And through all of this we miss the obvious - the narrative has already collapsed. Perhaps not at the collective level, perhaps not en masse, but certainly at the level of the individual - within the hearts of individuals scattered throughout the world. In this sense, God has already brought an end to it all and often in the blink of an eye.
From the seemingly narrow confines of our individual lives, the collapsed narrative seems trivial, almost meaningless. Our personal awareness does not appear to affect anything, let alone exert any force on the ever expanding ball of superheated lies engulfing the world.
Rather than provide reprieve, the collapsed narrative becomes a burden. It drives us into proverbial self-exile and distances us from others. We find it increasingly impossible to play along, and we find it even harder to find people with whom we can share truth.
At times, we might even wish we could go back to believing the narrative again, but we know we cannot. We cannot un-see what we have seen. We cannot un-think what we are thinking. We cannot un-discern what we have discerned.
So with a sigh, we return to headlines and concentrate our hopes on the next spark we detect. Surely, this will be it, we whisper the moment a much-awaited glint catches our eye. This will be the thing that brings it all down. It is too undeniable. Too true. Too real. Even the blind will see it. Even the brainless will understand . . .
What we don't get is that we don't need the blind to see it or the brainless to understand it. We don't need something to bring it all down because the very fact we don't believe it has already brought it all down.
The narrative is not Reality, it is merely an eclipse of Reality. A shadow cast over Reality does not negate Reality, nor does it replace Reality anymore than the shadow of the moon replaces the sun during a solar eclipse. The sun appears obliterated, but it remains behind the moon, shining brightly despite everything.
When the narrative collapses within us individually, not only are we are able to see the sun behind the shadow, but we become a little sun on the opposite side of the shadow shining up through the murk.
We become beacons of light - pinpoints of Reality poking holes in the narrative shroud. To those who oppose God and Creation, each tiny hole in the narrative is a sun unto itself, and it burns through all the lies and deceits. Each pinpoint is a painful reminder that Reality is still there behind it all, despite everything. Even worse, it is a painful reminder that Reality is still there in front of it all because a single individual grounded in Reality contains the entirety of Reality within himself or herself.
And one day Reality will break through once and for all, but this is no less significant than Reality breaking through once and for one today.
Note added: I apologize for the mixed metaphors; I wrote this during an inspired whim.
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