Awakening this morning to the blare of popular music interspersed with the blare of humans mouthing popular sentiments – unthought out, unconsidered, unconscious offerings from the semi-somnolent – I feel the old resentment rising in me that I am, as ever, surrounded by the Marching Morons of humanity.
At work, on the road, listening to the radio – all I see and hear, with very rare exception,is the tromp-tromp-tromp of those mechanical feet as they trudge their way through this incarnation, never wondering, never caring. Never knowing who they really are.
Feeling as sorry for myself as I have since I was a child, much in the vein of the protagonist in Heinlein’s They, who sees through the veil for an instant, and whose life is wrecked forever after as a consequence.
Ah, but I’m not all that alone, after all.
Oddly, the persons who seem to be the most awake, the most fully conscious are those I only know through the good services of the internet.
I’m not particularly angry or depressed -in fact, I feel on the verge of laughter most of the time this morning. I found Bruce’s words to be as close as they come to articulation of this Intangible Materiality we play our Selves out against:
This experiment always costs us dearly, unless we have nothing to lose but that is more a desire in of itself rather than a cogent reality poised against perhaps thousands of them
That is exactly the way it appears in my thoughts and my feelings – this experiment which we have undertaken willingly, however much it costs us.
And among the human beings, all of whom I Love deeply, I am not so much alone, as awake and shambling through the sleeping, dreaming dormitory of this incarnation, greeting a fellow insomniac as we pass among the rows and rows of the slumbering.