Poemander

A thinnest strand, a translucent fibril elusive even to the keenest-sighted, the last frontier of the idealists and the most powerful force in the Universe – consciousness.

On the grand scale, nothing matters except for consciousness, and consciousness is the awareness of the self. And awareness of the self is the meeting with reality, the reality of the self. Here the word consciousness is used on par with self-awareness. Being self-aware is being conscientious.

The collection of individual self-awarenesses is the Universal consciousness, some call it Logos, others call it God or nature.

World is a product of the Universal consciousness 'dreamed' into existence. Individual consciousnesses are just parts of the Universal consciousness like the dreams in the dream of a dreamer.

Consciousness is not the mind, it is the great void, the dark matter of the known and unknown universes.

It was spring and the tiny strings of water were skidding down the lumps of glittering mud. Below, in the gully, a lively brook played hide-and-seek with the rays of sunlight that sneaked through the chartreuse curtain of gently swaying willows. It was all as it should be, like nothing has happened, like it was always there. Up above, a flock of wild geese winnowing their way through the cobalt-blue skies. They fly unconcerned that they didn't exist a moment ago – they have a life to live, and who am I to hold them? A dreamer? A hunter? I let go, but the image still lingers. Memories are the stamps of time. Some collect them and put in the album, some stick them to letters and send out, on their own. As those geese, they fly to the foreign lands, and there are no boundaries to those who trust their wings.

Seemingly, the night took hold while I'm still stuck in the pages of a warm sunny afternoon. You may have noticed that the night always comes from behind. And if you spin quick enough, you may be able to fan off the night, at least for a while. Spinning in the whirlpool of existence you'll see days and nights, springs and falls accelerating their gallop, faces getting blurry as if picked up by the air current that takes everything along to its wild dance. I have no one to blame – you've got a life to live. Setting them free, I'm standing on the open terrace, staring into the night. To live is a matter of honesty, honesty to your own self. If you don't know what I'm talking, stop for a while and look up. You are responsible for everything there is, no one else. Deep in the great void, past voices and episodes reveal to me what has been. I'm the next in line, Atlantes are all gone and the sky weights on my shoulders – now is my turn. Continuity is a serpentine road where the end matches the beginning – there is no escape from yourself. Click! Clacked the trigger. Now the game is mine, I'm ready to face it – show me what you've got!