When I awoke this morning, it felt as though my mood was predetermined. None of us really knows how to discern from whence a mood arises, but we spend most of our time attempting to do exactly that every waking moment of our lives. After all, what is a “blog” but an open-ended dispatch of such ego-driven after-the-fact explanations? Whether our cat died or we got a promotion at work or we suffer from clinical depression or we took in a beautiful sunrise, we are constantly reporting on the events and situations we erroneously identify as the primary drivers of our current mood. But today, I feel like a pendulum at rest. I feel no dread or hope, shame or pride, anger or adoration. My emotional thermostat is set to lukewarm. This hardly seems an ideal time to publicly express myself, yet here I am typing into the ether. I wonder what I’ll say?
Knowing me, I’ll probably try to spin this dull equilibrium into some kind of self-congratulatory metaphysical gibberish. Yet I know full well that the appeal of conceptual experience occasionally and necessarily goes into a sort of remission to ensure my continued interest in this self-penned drama that I call “my life”. But even in the process of offline recharging, I am online for the sole purpose of attaching concepts to my tepid disinterest. This is when I start to wonder how life would feel without language. If we did not have the capacity to analyze our situations and run each of our experiences through the prefrontal cortex, we wouldn’t bring the questionable qualities of logic and reason to bear upon them and we would simply experience without the obscuring effects of scrutiny.
We would have no stories to tell because we would be incapable of concocting them. And perhaps we’d capitalize on this inner quietude by resuming the long lost art of spiritual evolution with perfect purity, untarnished by ego fantasies and expectations. Our blogs would disappear along with the devices upon which we compose them for the simple reason that such self-absorbed communication would be as unnecessary as it is impossible. Speechlessness is next to godliness. We are all gods who have sold out our real significance in exchange for the false comfort of analysis. Sssshhhh. Reclaim your true essence and dance silently with the world you project. For gods and goddesses, nothing is predetermined.