Saintly Thoughts

Mind & Reality

The mind is severed from reality.  It exists as a story of itself, a myth of its own creation; staring back at itself.  It is from this story that all other stories spring.  I sometimes can't help but feel that fiction is stronger than fact; that the reality of the story speaks to a reality that transcends physicality.  If that is so, then all that we think and feel and hope and dread have a being beyond that which we experience with our senses.  Fanciful, you might say?  Of course it is fanciful, but existence itself is fanciful.  The mind reels when it attempts to contemplate why there is something rather than nothing.  It cannot find an answer.  Its attempt to discover the foundation is blocked, much as a ball is smacked back from the rim of a basket by an opposing player.  We cannot help but ascribe agency to this process of rejection, it is as though the universe itself does battle with our mind's attempt to understand.  It is from such experience that we cannot help but think of God, whether or not such as He Is.  This is why I find it hard to believe the atheist when he says that he does not believe [I believe that he does not wish to believe; I should also add that I find it easy to understand his impulse not to believe…or (another possibility) his brain structure is different than mine—my intuition, however, is that our experience of selfhood is similar but that we have internalized different symbols to describe our experience].  Either he lacks completely imagination (for, whether or not God Is, it is through the imaginative quality of the mind that we experience symbols of the Divine) or he lies to himself.  To deny the existence of God is to deny the existence of the self.  Now, we cannot know if the self exists.  It makes little sense that there is such a thing as self, yet how can we be that which we sense ourselves to be without thinking of the self as self?  Something exists, something grasps for a sense of itself.  What is this thing that attempts to know itself?  What is this mystery?  Back and forth it goes, always into eternity! [I apologize for the over-abundance of masculine signifiers in this post.]