Where ever do I look, when the infinite self which I have suddenly become ponders the loneliness, even though days and weeks and years have passed since I knew my personal life was over. Through the books, the mantras, the prayers, the grand words and searing beauty of images and stories and rhythms that are all about that and where to find it, a fierce longing endures. Infinite being that I am, I still need that act of longing, even if it is only a gesture, a nod of the head, a movement in the eye from that being that knows, that personhood that peers out of the infinite as someone that is not the impersonal, cold absolute. There cannot be unbounded life without it! I cannot crawl out of the ocean onto land without that something that will make infinity plausible as a landscape for living. Where to go without that? Who to be?
You can't help but want to bow down when you look up from the normal drudgery of human existence and exclaim, "I want to know!" What to do when the passion grabs you, when the shakti roars through the mind's confusions and fears and opens up to grand thoroughfares of cosmic beings on the same journey exploring the infinite conditions of existence. And your humanity? Humanity has never been more valuable to itself when you look up from your mortal eyes and see with the eyes of the absolute spirit.
But humanity has a decision to make. Are we dealing with the unknowns of life by turning ourselves into biotic androids for our seeing; or are we waking up to grand drama of existence through the power of spirit to inquire into its reality as you? Perhaps they are not mutually exclusive now, but there will come a point when certain opportunities will be lost. At this moment, however, now is what we have. The infinity of now or the prolonged struggle in the world of mental machinations to push death off farther into the future? Who wants to know? What do you see?
What to say when contemplating one trillion galaxies in the universe, or for that matter, infinite after infinite numbers of atoms, and another infinitude of subatomic particles rushed into existence with an atom smasher? Easy to say that God created all this: just read the books and say the prayers; and easy to say that nobody created it when you’ve got mounds of equations digitalized on a screen laying out the unsanctified history of the entire universe and how smart you are. But never mind what the scientists say or what the priests say or what my mother and father used to say, or my best friend in high school ruminating after he swiped my girlfriend, or the local Baptist minister proclaiming by rote in front of the bored masses who pay him to say it, or my grandfather when he sat upon the judge’s bench in a small Virginia town and gaveled down justice to the powerless; but of all things this!: knees to ground, heart surrendered utterly unto perdition, mind crying out with joy and grief: “How could I have known?”, before rising and walking on with the only certitude that matters in all that infinite stuff.