In the beginning . . . wait, that can’t be right. A beginning always has an end. The only thing that has a beginning and an end will be the words that are used to attempt to take out of the unknown depths, a thread of light which chronicles consciousness, human consciousness. A thread of light is just that, a thread. Humans, in their confusion, identify with that thread of light and believe that this light is the whole. The idea that light only exists when it is surrounded and given substance by the dark depths, is unthinkable.
There is no beginning, nor an end. There is only a perpetual now. There is no separateness in the whole, no boundaries, no non-relatedness. Yet, there are threads of consciousness that arise from the whole, threads which claim a separateness from the whole. And that separateness senses a state of being vulnerable in relation to the whole, a vulnerability arising out of anxiety and neurosis. Thus is born, in humankind, the duality of self and other, subject and object.
To be human is to be both subject and object. To be human, is to suffer separation from the whole. To be human is to have a beginning and an end. But, I tell you, there is no end; there is no beginning.
So begins a human’s attempt, my attempt, to consciously explore what it is to be part of the whole, a work that has been attempted over and over again during the dawning of human consciousness. I know that whatever emerges will only tell some of what is the whole. I also know, that like every other such attempt, there will be truth in those words, and there will be too much left unsaid, unacknowledged. Because of the need to use words, what emerges can only illustrate a minute aspect of the whole. But that, in the end, is all that can be done.