On Point and Pointlessness.

I often think of all those heroes of history who gave up their bodily comforts, their freedom, and even their lives on a personal crusade to make the world a better place.

And then I think of all those people of high intelligence and learning who tell us that time as we perceive it is an illusion, that all of existence is contained within a moment (or a grain of sand as Blake would have it), that material reality is but some form of simulation which only appears to be real because of our entrapment in the illusion of time, or that there is only one consciousness projecting the whole notion of form and we are all a part of it.

So that leads me to wonder whether there was ever any point to the suffering of the heroes. And on a personal level I wonder whether the whinges of which this blog is largely composed have any validity.

No doubt I will continue to whinge and deal in trivia because I’m not enlightened yet. But then, nobody seems able to prove to me that any of the above is true and that enlightenment is real.

So what do I do? Cary on pretending, I suppose, while I await the epiphany which might or might not be out there in the darkness somewhere. And if it does suddenly appear and take possession of me, how will I know that it isn't merely the product of a diseased mind?