|Photo Sara Hannant|
Death is the revelation of cosmic horror along with the perception of the death of his own immense nothingness, and of grandiosity and comprehensiveness of cosmic perspectives, forces, and processes which indicate a huge cosmic being-force-entity machine. That entity is comprised of many big, small, or miniature energy - entity conglomerate of awareness, perceptions, subsystem components, etc. From that perspective, the Universe looks like an endless and neat Chaos that is alive in an insidious and terrifying way. That is even not important since, in the light of fundamental insights, during the process of dying differences between the living and the dead are completely irrelevant. Actually, it is in those situations that we realize that there were no such boundaries at all.
Division on animate and inanimate nature is the product of human limitedness, cultural rigidity and the stupefying effect the civilization has on a human being, their instincts, insight powers, and true aspirations. The true cause of death is out of reach of average human analytical and some other powers. Dying seems to us like death, that is, the death as dying, but it only looks like that from our human perspective. From the standpoint based on the perception of Eternity and Immortality, death is only one in a row of in numerous fatalities that make the universal trans-dimensional machinery of the Great Cosmic Weaver who creates and dissolves innumerable consciousness mixing his own essence and the essence of the Nothingness.
Now, I would engage in depicting a picture of death I gradually came to with a certain effort, and which I consider being the only mine, but which has a certain pattern that could theoretically relate to the other people’s cases, too. Death has four phases life flashback, physiological strike, pulling the soul, and dissolving conscience. Life flashback, a phenomenon known and mentioned in today’s already standard ideas of the process of dying, implies unwinding, that is, an accelerated retrospective of the memory contents. In other words, all memory contents are completely and comprehensively illuminated. The sufferer becomes aware of anything that he did in any way or anything that happened to him during his lifetime. In the unwinding life film phase, the longest sequences are the moments that caused imprisoning of a great amount of their life energy to the greatest extent. On that occasion, the sufferer is completely out of control over what he perceives. Those images have their course and dynamics which cannot be influenced by them. The dying person is a passive observer. Memory, since it represents modality of binding and modeling human energy into certain forms (images), irrevocably erases in those moments, it becomes broken up and dissolved, by which they are freed from the form of great strength that a man has immobilized during his life, bound and put it aside while not using the potentials which to a great extent influenced his susceptibility to blows of fate. That energy is released in this phase of the process of dying and all memories and impressions a human being had been collecting and sorting whole their life become taken away, confiscated. Memory images are like fruits that thinking plants called people to give. Some force takes that fruit for them, thus nullifying our absoluteness, self-determination of our conscience, the autonomy of actions and existence, while people usually do not have any alternative. That tyrannical, total and fatal force is only interested in that. The rest of a human being becomes rejected and left to scavengers of the Chaos Universe. We serve that force only to feed it with fruits of our lives, our most valuable and succulent parts our memory (energy forms which our conscience synthesized in interaction with derivative energies of the Universe). Mentioned force takes the consciousness enriched by the experience of life leaving empty containers, empty shells, larvae, klipots, what it cannot digest or what doesn’t suit its refined taste.
The Great Cosmic Weaver, if I may name that force in that manner and define it arbitrarily, (in a magical way, based on analogies and associative frames which are inserted in my psyche by culture) is the giver and depriver of life, being’s freedom and consciousness. That is the entity that isolates parts of its own substance and lets them into the arena of an apparent cycle of free being which represents the Universe. Such action (weaving) is the essential element of everything that exists. The substance of weaving is the substance of light and consciousness. Therefore, consciousness has only one purpose of temporary autonomous existence (i.e. projection): to collect most of the unique impressions and memory forms, that is, the experience of existence for the unity from which it was extracted, projected in space. The question of why is it so is a mystery for me, but as it is so, then it is a fact for me just as day and night are the facts for most of us.
I named the second phase of the process of dying physiological strike. The physiological strike is the confiscation of physical and physiological elements of memory and corporal memories. In that phase, the sufferer’s body speedily and completely remembers all physical and physiological impressions it experienced during the lifetime: pain, hunger, itch, thirst, breath, pleasure, cold, heat, cramp, silence, noise, fear, asphyxiation, tickling, nausea, orgasm, dark, light, colors, etc. This phase of dying largely outdoes the previous one by the intensity of experiencing because physical and physiological impressions are more primary than all memory contents which relate to us as personalities. Just like memory images, corporal impressions, corporal and sensory experiences also bind a certain amount of energy which then also becomes liberated and taken away. Pulling the soul, as the third phase of the process of dying is a strong feeling of tearing your own being and it reminds of some forceful catapulting from the body. This more fundamental part of human being, let us call it the carrier of consciousness, astral body, and alike, becomes simply cast out by some strong force dislocated from the so-called crude energy, i.e. body, having wound up in a sort of an interworld ambient. The ambient has a whole range of kaleidoscopic, wonderful, and terrifying geometric sights and perspectives where directions as up, down, left, right, before, behind, attraction, reverberation, rest, motion, gravity, and alike, are wiped out. Then we lose basic directions of the space-time continuum. Having lost the ability to remember, thinking, feeling, and self-consciousness previously, we now become deprived of both space orientation and orientation which separates our being from the perceived ambient. At that moment, one truth takes a completely clear and unambiguous position (as many other truths, after all) and that is the truth that space is actually only a feature of perception, a feature of projection of consciousness.
Finally, in the fourth phase, our power of active perception becomes taken away from us. We enter rest, perceptive and active innocence. I named that phase dissolving conscience which represents the most tragic and the most painful experience, when the consciousness like a star that has approached the end of its life (after the explosive phase of a supernova), starts to fade out gradually and merges with the cold and dark of the Universe. When that phase comes, we lose ourselves and the power to perceive anything concrete. It is not even darkness. There are no those spectacular dizzy geometrical mega perspectives. What then appears on the mental screen of consciousness is an inarticulate and undifferentiated melting pot. Reality then loses any sense. Everything loses any sense. What only perceives that absurdity and what only participates in that is the absurdity itself, dull, blunt, indifferent, blind, deaf... There is no more passion, thoughts, feelings, wishes, will, or any intent. Consciousness becomes a drop in the ocean of inactive primordiality, a dreamer, substance. The only real thing is The Great Cosmic Weaver that creates the illusion of different forms and levels of reality. The only thing we can do is to play by the rules of that force, even when we want to escape the total scope of its activity. The Great Cosmic Weaver is ambivalent. He simultaneously helps and thwarts. Let us use it when he helps, and let us get away when he thwarts (this is the essential idea of Castaneda’s The Eagle’s Gift). Let us yearn, faultlessly yearn for freedom, but let us not hope for it. Let things go their own way while doing the best we can. It is the only thing we can do. Therefore, we can see how the impression of space is just one of the features of existence. Pursuant to that, motion is the feature of existence. If perception is the feature of consciousness, then existence is the feature of the projection of consciousness, of projection in space which is itself the feature of perception since existence is unimaginable without space as its fundamental condition. Only in the state of projection does consciousness exist, that is, if it exists, then it exists only as light and only as a derivation of that light. In the so-called non-perceptive state consciousness doesn’t exist. Paradoxically, existence is phoniness, nonexistence is the truth. Nothingness is the fundamental state of consciousness. Truth doesn’t exist, and if it does, then it exists as Nothingness. In any case, the truth is contradictory because it is not logical. Illusions are logical. Probably that is why we fall for it. Anyway, explanations are faulty by nature. Explanations cannot embrace the reality that is constantly somehow escaping from it. That is how truth escapes from us. An explanation is explanation and reality is the reality. What it has to do with one another? Explanations relate to us, and reality relates to itself; not to us.
Since the primordial and most natural state of consciousness is non-perceptive and thus non-spatial, timeless. We are in the very essence of the spot of the famous Leibniz’s monad. We are practically standing in the place for immortality. Our rest is surreal and we thus do not notice it. We think, or precisely, we perceive how we are willingly moving. However, that is essentially not so, no matter it is apparently so. Those are projections of light, 3D projections, only but projections. The truth is that nobody and nothing is moving. We are like atoms trapped in a grid-like structure of some zero dimension outside the Universe (which is only but a manifestation, precisely, total manifestation and projection). The fact is that everything that has been projected becomes de-projected once, that is, taken back to its original state. Additionally, there is no change of position because there is no size. Metacosmic grid-like structure of innumerable monads is our genuine ambient, metaphysical ambient.
From the perspective of the mentioned meta-cosmic structure, The Great Cosmic Weaver himself is irrelevant to value. If we are eternally standing still, if we do not go anywhere, then what we aim for (if we do not want our aims to be but projections, or illusions, the falsity of existence) is something that is coming to us from somewhere. We do not go for it, it comes to us and we wait. That means that the true aim implies the aim for something which in the grid-like structure has its superior, and I would say hyper-surreal (surreal in surreal) connotation, it has superior features, it is moving and it is not a monad. That slowly brings us to the sense of existence, that is, the sense of projection. One does not search for sense. The sense is daily and laboriously constructed. One searches for ground components of sense which are hiding in our ordinariness. As a man, I am so full of flaws that as my only virtue I can state only that laborious everyday work on building my life sense. The sense of life is the sense of death at the same time, so the effort made for the first is also the effort made for the second. That is why the question of someone’s sense is also the question of their life and death. From the perspective of absurdity or another person’s absurdity, the sense of my life can truly look absurd. At the same time, somebody else’s sense doesn’t bother me but I do respect those who are building and improving their sense, be they monsters. If monstrosity is the result of somebody’s effort aimed at building their own sense that is the fact that is worth respect. Absurdity is worse than sense whose fruit is a monstrosity, even consciously chosen monstrosity. If I, by any chance, lost my own sense, or if it crumbled, I would probably kill myself as the poor Otto Weininger since I could not take life without sense so I would play at the last card of building and/or the final forming of sense in my death. Death represents the exam of our never finished life building of our sense. That is the exam we pass or fall.
Translated by Sandra Šabotić
To see my other posts in English, click the label "english"
Translated by Sandra Šabotić
To see my other posts in English, click the label "english"