It is natural, or in fact HUMAN, to question things. There are only questions in the beginning; only attempts to understand. As we grow, and some questions remain unanswered, we begin to assume things. We begin to ponder through things, and intellectualize our own possible answers. We try then and CHOOSE those answers that we feel in our hearts mostly to be “correct�? Then we go back sometimes, and re-question some of those things that we feel we didn’t question enough before, which we simply accepted before, because in fact we never seem to stop questioning. As questioning beings, we sometimes recognize that there can never truly be a decisive answer to some of those questions. Yet we still strive to comprehend some of the possible answers. We continue to question, and question, and question, though there never will be any possible answer. So why is it then, is my question now, that we always find this perpetual need to understand the un-understandable?

 

          I remember what it was like when I was learning to speak as a child, and I remember my constant need to comprehend what was going on around me. At some point, not exactly definable, I started to sense that these questioning thoughts had eventually become very stale. To me it was the constant repetition of the same old questions, over and over again, which really had no answer. If one can never actually know something, then why would one keep on forever trying to know the unknowable? It seems a confusion to me, like as if I was pulling the wool over my own eyes, pretending that my questioning nature was being somehow fulfilled; that my curiousness was a natural part of myself, and that I needed to keep up the questions.

 

          If I was indeed then made by some almighty being, (some god), in it’s own image, then it occurred to me that perhaps this being has never stopped questioning itself. Perhaps this perpetual curiosity I had, and this need to know the “facts�?about things, was given to me as like a cosmic joke, questioning things that I could never possibly ever have an answer for. It then seemed to me like a comedy; like as if I was inherently given the means to keep my mind occupied by useless, repeating, and never ending questions. Well you can well imagine that at some later point in my life I decided to separate my “useless questions�? from those that made some plausible sense to me. Questions like, “What’s under that rock?�?Or, “where can I get a good plate of fries tonight?�?These seemed to me to be of a real nature. These kinds of questions I could grasp, and root to my own living Universe. Other questions it seemed to me were not really questions at all, for they would not exist without this feeling of awareness that I was sure I must have inside of myself. “why?�?for one. Is there really such a thing as a why? Not why as in if you put your hand in the fire, then it gets burned, that’s why I got burned. But why as in, what purpose dose the construction of my molecules serve in this cosmos? Or, why am I able to think?

 

          A rock, by itself, is totally in tune with the rest of the Universe. It is. It simply IS. It dose not question itself, or it’s purpose. It exists in the Universe as one with the Universe. It is there, and that’s all there is to it. I can almost confidently answer chemical questions about it, like how those molecules in that rock might have come to cool themselves from out of the great massive cosmic gas clouds, which some believe came together to form all of the Suns and Planets and Moons and such of our Universe today. But again this is what is “thought�?to have occurred, and so far before the time I existed that I’ll never be able to say for sure. My “history�?as it might be described. Heck, I can’t even say if my great grandfather was really a pure Czech, but I can somehow manage to get confident in saying that my molecules are a part of the whole living Universe. This is an assumption of course. A feeling I have about things, which my heart tells me is true. A faith. How is it that a rock is more in tuned to the Universe then my living brain will ever be? Dose the Universe as a whole actually question itself? Most of it’s parts do not, so it seems. So why then do I? (Why, it seems, is unavoidable to a mind.)

 

          It occurred to me then that my mind, a figment of myself, an immeasurable thing which dose indeed seem to exist, was the only part of my world which separated itself from the rest of the whole Universe by the simple act of questioning itself. A Universe without “minds�?is in tune with itself. Add thought, and now you add every possible kind of assumption that imagination can come up with. Every possible question which never existed before. In fact, there are no questions in the Universe. Only in our minds. Is this what was meant by the soul? Is my soul separate from the Universe in some metaphysical way? But these are all simply just more and more questions.

 

          Imagine if you will that your “perceptions�? your “feelings�? your very concept of “yourself�? was really all just a byproduct of your sentient mind. A figment of it’s own imagination. You think, therefore you THINK that you are. Not possible? I really can’t say. But my faith is such that when I let go of everything, when I dissolve my senses, my very thoughts, I discover then in my being that I am really and truly much, much closer to becoming at one with the entire cosmic Universe. If I could become like the rock, yet not the rock, for it is my imagined mind now that comes back to it’s own illusions to speak words, and play with thoughts, and pretend to try and describe something which in reality is absolutely indescribable. Imagine if you will this incredible gift of thought is actually just a simple joke that the living Universe is playing on itself. A Divine Comedy. A bizarre form of play�?nbsp; Is it not possible that a mind was never meant to solve itself, or anything else, and therefore it’s seeming to be struggles in such directions are all actually very truly the funniest thing in the entire Universe? Humor, like Love, is a part only of our so called souls, and also dose not have a measurable existence within the living Universe. Like thoughts. Like everything else that we relate only to the imagination of a perceived and existing SELF. Is it not possible that the gift or reason, of sentient thought, is actually meant for no purpose whatsoever, and is actually THERE, as we think of things being, by strict accident, and all that’s left us is that it’s simply to be enjoyed? Can we not take comfort that one day our molecules truly will once again be a part, and fully in tuned, with the rest of the entire living Universe? Like if you cut your fingernails, and they then are free of us, our imagined minds, and so gone back finally to their own.

 

          Maybe the day electrical currents stop connecting brain cells to each other in our heads is the day we truly are reborn - but I don’t think so. We would then have no illusions of thought to play with anymore. Our gift as it was will finally have been spent. I think the Universe must have a since of humor that it is totally unaware of, and that thought to me is the funniest joke of them all. I’ve since come to believe that there are NO questions that are valid. Not a single one. It all simply exists only in our funny little minds.

 

~Kuyotí the Fool~

 

 

 

 

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          "The cradle rocks above an abyss, and common sense tells us that our existence is but a brief crack of light between two eternities of darkness. Although the two are identical twins, man, as a rule, views the prenatal abyss with more calm than the one he is heading for (at some forty-five hundred heartbeats an hour)."

 

~Vladimir Nabokov~