Before we were physically severed, we were enmeshed and joined: a developing fetus is not just sharing a body with a host, the mother, but quite literally is the mother in the earliest phases of development. Once birthed, the infant’s direct source of nutritional sustenance is broken from the mother when the umbilical cord is cut, but in order to survive, the babe must rely on mother’s milk tapped directly from the original source. The mother doesn’t bother to put her breasts inside her shirt for days on end: the swollen units leak and the baby is in constant need of a suckle. In this way, her body has expanded the boundaries of individuality; Mother and baby create and take part in something bigger than either individual, sharing their existence in a brutally physical manifestation. We each carry within us the memory of being a parasite incapable of self-sufficiency, full of the horror of Not Knowing what the nature of our existence would be were we to find ourselves severed from the Host Source. Studies Definitely Show that humans are Loss-Averse, and most often choose to hold onto what they have rather than risk it to reach out for potential increases (except when they are playing the Mega-Millions lotto game). And No Wonder, when we are so pursued by the ever-present terror of being Cut Off, which repeatedly activates itself deep within our cellular bonds and skeletal codes throughout the course of our apparent lifetimes as seemingly separate beings.
During rituals I faced a mirror to remind me who would protect me from peril and carry me through. I confronted my large startled eyes bright with anticipation, with the eager willingness to encounter and subsume the shadow, then vowed to serve all holy manifestations of the Divine. As remote as that access was, it was still the only one within my dominion, my only subject, the only Way, Truth, and Life that would ever be accessible to me.
In romantic and transcendental urges, one may place a good deal of emphasis on union with an Other – a soul mate, the landscape, a spiritual force, or Our Common Denominator, that which binds us all together as part of a larger whole. Union with the self, conversely, is abstract and conceptual: it can’t be “seen,” and may be known, intuitively, but only privately. Fragmentation, the opposite of union, occurs when consistency and synthesis are consistently obstructed. Fragmentation leads to alienation, dysfunction, abuse, and psychosis. Force has got to go somewhere, and when body and psyche endure enough of it from hostile sources, there’s reason to believe the body becomes the passive channel for these forces, reduced to the state of an Idiot Passive Reactor. What kinds of choices do we have in this state, about our bodies, our inter-personal relations, our reality, and our destiny? I could tell you what I saw, but what would it mean to you? Do Not Speak My Name, Jesus said. The Tao that can be named is not the eternal Tao, and if you see Buddha in the road, Kill Him. The cult and the corporate boardroom revolve around the public display of devotion to the group myth, but given what we know of language, memory and perception, we understand that ideologies and social dogmas, like literary elements and genres, bend and shapeshift easily when coaxed, finessed, or left to their own devices: the attempt to discern or create synthesis, balance, integration, wholeness or beauty is a gesture that needs no public relations campaign to validate itself.
But how will you know you exist if no one watches you? When we are not one and no one may seek identification or protection in humanism, collectivism, or individualism, or any mass comprehensive Ism under which to huddle together in common struggle; when there is no ultimate goal toward which we may project ourselves, no Truth-Value to be passed along from being to being in pure intent and reception? Why not acknowledge a vacuous existence and consciously seize the opportunity to work within it? Must we be terrified to relinquish assertion of Our Absolute Will? Can we evolve into a being who chooses through repeated cycles of confrontation and integration? And in the meantime, can we hold ourselves in the balance and improvise?
The night horizon was pitch dark; nothing visible. My insides trembled. I felt my way with my feet. An inner radar began to pick up vibrations that I translated into signals. I steadied, and honed myself. A touch of light infused the atmosphere and shades of gray began to appear. The road rose up silver, the sky emerged pewter. I walked atop the liquid river and the path led me straight to home.
