Is language my basic food — like air is to my being?
Is it that I prosper with it and can’t live without it?
Is life based on a language built on four chemical letters
that are beginning to be understood? Does matter too
have a language which has been understood deeply
for a while but not completely?
Is the wordless existence that can’t be understood or unraveled
the it I’m looking for or the it I must avoid?
Is the everlasting torture of non-believers any religion’s achilles heel?
Why did this play for power go unquestioned for so long?
Would the threat of being burned alive keep us in line?
At least in public?
Is this the kind of thing that wakes one up
to wonder if hell and heaven are just words?
Can logic wound magical thinking so that language collapses
for a moment or two leaving a frightening awareness?
Is it that language is not about to collapse for very long on its own?
But what about magical thinking collapsing?
What’s the difference between Santa and heaven and hell.?
Nobody has to die to find out Santa’s not real.
Is the most obvious thing that
we don’t realize we are not separate?
Aren’t we perfectly adapted to the earth?
When we look out into the world, is it that we don’t
see ourselves and that’s what’s out there?
Are we not products of the universe
as snails and bricks are?
Does jumping off of a normal pathway take some insight?
When the real appears can I respond?
Is the answer no because I’m addicted to me — the substitute?
To see or be the real must I somehow let rest what I already know?
Does tradition continually kill the present like a jealous older sibling?
Is it that I love and give attention to others but
mainly to me and my many words?
Do I, the heaviest dream, use the now by floating in my own dream ocean
sculpting the now into the past and future with language as my only tool?
Is it possible to wake up and never be able to dream me, the special dream, again? Do I manufacture threats or problems via language to protect my position?
Is being a failure in life as good as or perhaps even better than success
at keeping me on my throne?
Is it that I work hard to pull the trigger which will put a failure or fear to rest and when I do, does a new category of failure or fear automatically slide into the chamber?
Do satisfactions and dissatisfactions and uncertainties and certainties and expectations keep me on automatic? How do I search for the truth? Is it that the way to fulfillment is the opposite of striving?
Is there hovering in me a gyroscope of awareness that’s beyond imagining which I use as a background for me the main attraction?
Are we native?
Are we no more than
one of earth’s products?
Do we have to make our own way?