schubert
Member
Well...it's about 1:30 in the morning...and I can't sleep...I haven't slept...no peace for me of course. While everyone experiences the joy of unconsciousness, free from the mental hazes and tangles of thought, I am deeply rooted here in the dark soil of cognizance, unable to free myself from either my attachment to it or my dependency upon it. Thus, once again my base nature as a human can not find the solution to my internal maze of vague yet overwhelming confusion, which is both completely sensible and utterly insane.
So here I am…sitting here…typing…the whiteness of the screen darkens my peripheral vision. I can no longer distinguish the walls of this room from the space that separates me from them. The lamp, shrouded by the undoubtedly expensive shade that is draped over its otherwise brilliant light, is now shrouded by the darkness that covers it relative to the brightness of the computer screen. The doorway no longer provides its familiar view into the hallway, as it too is shrouded by the blackness of nighttime, a blackness which is never distinguishable at any particular spot or place; it is instead hiding behind the tangible nature of everything else, forcing those who gaze upon these physical things to explain this blackness by attributing everything around them, except light itself, with the vague yet commonly expressed concept as ‘darkness’. But yet they do not understand that this ‘darkness’, this blackness, is completely separate of everything and anything. Darkness is merely an optical illusion, a petty reflection of unawareness. It merely attempts to mimic the effects of unconsciousness, but yet the latter is something else entirely. It is everything and nothing at the same time. But I can not attain this level of utter blankness…I am trapped in this world of the tangible, the perceivable, the existent. Only when you can not sleep do you understand the true purpose of this human necessity. Do we really need physical replenishment and rest through the form of unconsciousness? Perhaps…but the true nature and purpose of it lies in the need to escape from this inevitable pattern of cognizant recognition, mindful analysis, and according response, which we have simplified to one word: thought. It is man’s power, pride and greatness…but it is also his undoing…his curse…his shroud of ‘darkness’…an imitation of everything…and a mimic of nothing. Trapped…once again. Is there any escape from this calm whirlwind of thought…from the burdens of consciousness…from the oppression of analysis…from the grief of consideration…from the pain of intention…from the sufferings of cognizance…from the insanity of sanity? Only the subconscious…the unconscious…the unintended…the unawareness…can provide any relief. Nevertheless, a man can not sleep through all of his days. Thought is inevitable.
So here I am…sitting here…typing…the whiteness of the screen darkens my peripheral vision. I can no longer distinguish the walls of this room from the space that separates me from them. The lamp, shrouded by the undoubtedly expensive shade that is draped over its otherwise brilliant light, is now shrouded by the darkness that covers it relative to the brightness of the computer screen. The doorway no longer provides its familiar view into the hallway, as it too is shrouded by the blackness of nighttime, a blackness which is never distinguishable at any particular spot or place; it is instead hiding behind the tangible nature of everything else, forcing those who gaze upon these physical things to explain this blackness by attributing everything around them, except light itself, with the vague yet commonly expressed concept as ‘darkness’. But yet they do not understand that this ‘darkness’, this blackness, is completely separate of everything and anything. Darkness is merely an optical illusion, a petty reflection of unawareness. It merely attempts to mimic the effects of unconsciousness, but yet the latter is something else entirely. It is everything and nothing at the same time. But I can not attain this level of utter blankness…I am trapped in this world of the tangible, the perceivable, the existent. Only when you can not sleep do you understand the true purpose of this human necessity. Do we really need physical replenishment and rest through the form of unconsciousness? Perhaps…but the true nature and purpose of it lies in the need to escape from this inevitable pattern of cognizant recognition, mindful analysis, and according response, which we have simplified to one word: thought. It is man’s power, pride and greatness…but it is also his undoing…his curse…his shroud of ‘darkness’…an imitation of everything…and a mimic of nothing. Trapped…once again. Is there any escape from this calm whirlwind of thought…from the burdens of consciousness…from the oppression of analysis…from the grief of consideration…from the pain of intention…from the sufferings of cognizance…from the insanity of sanity? Only the subconscious…the unconscious…the unintended…the unawareness…can provide any relief. Nevertheless, a man can not sleep through all of his days. Thought is inevitable.
