THE SEARCH FOR MEANING is not a whole lot different than the
yearning for certainty, which is to say, an unsuitable pursuit for any
who might aspire to nimbleness of mind, amplitude of soul, or freedom
Our human purpose, inasmuch as we have a purpose, is to consciously, deliberately evolve toward a wiser, more liberated, and
luminous state of being; to return to Eden, make friends with the
snake, and set up our computers among the wild apple trees. When
there’s meaning in this, it’s because individuals created that meaning to their own specifications, rather than discovering an intrinsic,
Deep down, all of us are probably aware that some kind of mystical evolution—a melding into the godhead, into love—is our true
task. Yet we suppress the notion with considerable force because to
admit it is to acknowledge that most of our political gyrations, religious dogmas, social ambitions, and financial ploys are not merely
counterproductive but trivial.
Our mission, then, is to jettison those pointless preoccupations
and take on once again the primordial cargo of inexhaustible ecstasy.
Or, barring that, to turn out a good thin-crust pizza and a strong glass
Now, despite the absence of a single pixel of verifiable evidence,
the pious maintain that there’s an afterlife in which the tap is eternally open, the oven forever hot. However, since their tap would
doubtlessly dribble only lemonade, and since those of us who’ve broken their rules would end up inside their oven, it’s probably best that
we eat, drink, love, and strive for higher consciousness in this one
life we can actually count on, leaving the gamble on postmortem fulfillment to those who find earthly existence to be overly carbonated,
too fraught with garlic and spice.