THINKING POTATOES AND FRIVOLOUS QUESTIONS

 

I have no idea whether anything I seem to write or say is ever understood. I don’t even understand what I say below the very thin veneer of apparent meaning, and I have no idea why I say it, or even who says it. At times there seems to be understanding. When the daughter of the couple from the village comes up and cooks, it seems there is communication and understanding about serving and eating food. I can say "pass the rumbledethumps" and she knows it refers to the potato dish she has prepared for me. We both have the same concept of what we call a potato.

When I tell her life seems to just happen without volition or any one to have it, she seems to understand and sees that she has never chosen a thought or emotion. Do we have the same definition of thoughts and emotions? Are there any such things? Is a thought about a potato a thought or a potato?

When I read people sharing opinions on events they say are happening in some world they imagine, as opposed to events they claim to have observed (equally made up, it’s true) it always sounds like someone telling me “here is what I think of the dreams other people tell me they have dreamt.” It never makes the slightest bit of sense and I am amazed that any thought has the thought about a thought that makes it seem real. Do you ever know what is really going on in the world of your dreams when you do not know the dreamer, who cannot be found and is not a “who” at all? I ate Chicago style pizza in my dream last night. I ate lamb stew and potatoes in so-called yesterday. Right “now,” both are equally real in what we call memory. I can remember the taste of each dish vividly.

I have an imagined thought someone will read these words. What will they mean? How does meaning happen? How does this writing happen? Is there ever shared meaning or only the illusion of shared meaning when there is only the illusion of any one to share meaning with? And why does the illusion feel so real when it is only the illusion pointing out its own illusory nature?

When the answers are unknowable, do questions fade away? They seem to, at least the type of question that can never be answered. I have not a single question about what life is, what the true nature of reality is, whether there is a God or Absolute or Consciousness or Flying Spaghetti Monster, what happens when you die, why are we here, is there a universe or multiverse, how should people live, what information is true, who is good and who is bad, and what should I do with my life?

All these questions are like asking how many enlightened nondual angels can fit on the head of a non-existent pin. But other questions remain---is there too much salt in the shepherd's pie? How much oil goes in the special pan for the masala dosa? Which way leads to the loch?

I believed that if I started spending time among humans again more words would come. And they do, but since I answer so many questions with statements like, “I don’t know, no one knows. Who can say? If you believe it, it seems true,” I am not the best conversationalist in the room. When the village girl asks me why I like her, I say, “Because I am you, silly girl, why else?” She just laughs. What answer can anyone possibly have for that?

Please pass the rumbledethumps, thank you ❤