The River of Consciousness
A man is standing in the middle-point of a small river, waist-deep, looking downstream. He can see, from this vantage point, the water flowing past him, and the banks of the river on each side.
Downstream, he sees several smaller creeks emptying into it on each side. The waters meet the water in "his" river and color it where they enter, but they mix into the greater river.
After a while the man wonders where the creeks come from, and with monumental effort turns around and sees creeks flowing into his river from upstream. He was never aware of them before, but he is now.
Seized with desire, he begins the even harder process of walking upstream. As he does so, he rises up and sees the smaller streams running into the river - smaller, but bright and clear and cold, newly melted from that - what is it? - shining white mountain of ice that seems to extend into infinity above.
Finally the river becomes a creek and then a stream and then a trickle, and he must climb the cliffs of ice above. But his water-soaked clothes and boots hold him back, so he must remove them and climb naked in the cold.
Finally, at the top, he looks around and is able to see dozens of other mountaintops, their heads above the clouds, in the distance all around him - all with their own rivers and streams and hikers struggling up to the top of the peaks.
And as he turns around again, finally, he sees the rivers of all the mountains flow off into the distance to create the great river, and its destination, stretching from horizon to horizon, the vast Sea.
Downstream, he sees several smaller creeks emptying into it on each side. The waters meet the water in "his" river and color it where they enter, but they mix into the greater river.
After a while the man wonders where the creeks come from, and with monumental effort turns around and sees creeks flowing into his river from upstream. He was never aware of them before, but he is now.
Seized with desire, he begins the even harder process of walking upstream. As he does so, he rises up and sees the smaller streams running into the river - smaller, but bright and clear and cold, newly melted from that - what is it? - shining white mountain of ice that seems to extend into infinity above.
Finally the river becomes a creek and then a stream and then a trickle, and he must climb the cliffs of ice above. But his water-soaked clothes and boots hold him back, so he must remove them and climb naked in the cold.
Finally, at the top, he looks around and is able to see dozens of other mountaintops, their heads above the clouds, in the distance all around him - all with their own rivers and streams and hikers struggling up to the top of the peaks.
And as he turns around again, finally, he sees the rivers of all the mountains flow off into the distance to create the great river, and its destination, stretching from horizon to horizon, the vast Sea.
Comment
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Comment by Michael Larkin on June 11, 2009 at 1:10pm - Delightful, Mike. It speaks to me of something I've just mentioned in your post about belief - about the never-ending and never-completed search, and about peak experiences, which may show brief glimpses of ever-widening awareness, and yet back in three dimensions, so to speak, we may have to walk the walk along the ever-puzzling, ever-beckoning path.
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