Philosophy can get pretty dry. That’s because the people who
write it think they have to sound smart. They aren’t allowed to have much
imagination or passion. Luckily, I’m not a philosopher but a poet, and poets
have lots of freedom. We can say it any way we like. We can say it in rhyme. We
can say it in images. We can say it without any punctuation. Being a poet is
Recently I was reading some articles on Advaita philosophy. The basic idea of Advaita comes close to something I really delight in, but the language is different. How I would say it is that the mystery of creation is the best magic trick I know.
Reality is one giant, shapeshifting consciousness that can morph itself into anything. God becomes the cave, the sun, the water, the bee, the child playing in the meadow. Can you beat that? It is all one magical fabric twisted into zillions of designs. The surface of reality is painted over again and again in billions of scenes: the streets of Calcutta, New York City, a cruise ship, a spaceship, a family sitting around a kitchen table. It is like being on the holodeck on the Starship Enterprise; this shapeshifting presence can dial up anything.
You know the part I like best? It is that the magician is creating everything out of himself! Totally. Even the image of the magician is one more trick. It is fantastic! Unbelievable. Even I am part of this trick! The magician waves his wand and poof! I am here, watching. Yet I am no different than any of other phenomena—the rabbit, the sunset, the round globe of earth, all made of the same stuff. All made by him, out of him, as him. (The gender here is arbitrary. I could say her.)
I am nothing but the trickster in this particular location. I’m sure glad he didn’t give me a horn like that funny looking rhinoceros. Or spikes like a prickly pear. I’ve never met anyone with such an imagination. And he never stops! He just keeps creating and creating. This show may go on forever.
Glad I have a front row seat, but that could change too. He’ll wave his magic wand and I’ll be a smudge on the wall back there. The good news is that nothing is permanent. Anyway, who am I to say No? The shapeshifter is willing to become anything; shouldn’t I be too?
Do I have a choice? Oh, I know that create-your-own-reality
line, but from what I’m seeing, it’s not me that is creating, but the One who I
am. Now that’s confusing! What I mean to say is that this little me writing is
not the magician. Or am I? The magician taking up the pen of the poet. I tell
you this guy really does have no limits! He’ll go for anything.
There’s one big trick yet to come. That’s when we all wake up and recognize how marvelous this whole experience has been. It will be so much fun that maybe we’ll decide to forget what we’ve discovered and start all over again. Meanwhile, I’m holding on to my front row seat. I’ve never seen a better magic show.