Morningthots

I hate to admit it, but I believe in the idea that says “Something that has happened at least once is liable to happen again” or “An event that has occurred has a greater chance of reoccurring than an unprecedented event has of ever occurring.”

I woke up as a living human. This means that someday surely I will die. And, when I die, there’s a greater chance of me ending up as a living human again than another type of entity. It could be that I’ll remain broken and dead; or it could be that I’ll become a bird or an aardvark; but since something already ties me down to the human species, I fear that I’ll most likely get tied down this way again. Therefore, it’s in the best interest even of the affluent minority to make a system that more equally distributes resources — it doesn’t need to be perfect: we can have hills and valleys; but it’s bad news to allow just one percent of the populace to monopolize bliss; for, if the world has a population of a thousand people, and only a single person on the globe is basking in luxury, then even this rich man will have a 999 times greater chance of being reborn as a sad sack than of enjoying the Good Life in his next sentence.

Also, out of an abundance of caution, I wish that we would show more kindness to chickens, just in case I get reborn as one – I don’t want to be in torment from the moment I hatch. But I’d still put my money on the conservation of species over lifetimes, meaning that snails tend to die and come back as snails, serpents as serpents, and Baals as Yahwehs.

How is this “tying down” done? How is a tyger tied to tygerhood, over multiple existences? And how am I tied down to Bryan Ray at present? Of course, “tying down” is a figure of speech – there’s no actual string that tethers our ghost to our flesh (it would need to be a strong chain, in my case), but something more like the nuclear forces that stabilize atoms, or gravity or electromagnetism. Identity also could be a trick, a hoax: for I could actually have been a fiery tyger yesterday, and then when I took my catnap, I woke up as Bryan, thus I’ve only been Bryan for a few hours; yet I presume that I’ve been Bryan for multiple decades, because the memory comes with the vehicle – like music that is piped thru the internal sound system – and it’s hard to hear the mnemonic tune of my true spirit over the thump of this savage’s war-drums. The body trusts the loudest, catchiest beat that it can hear – what it calls “reality” – while the mind sides with the unheard melodies, whether actual or possible, which comprise “imagination.”

In other words, I find myself nothing like what I desire to be, and I find the world to be nothing like what I wish it were. So I retreat to the realm of fancy and live life as a protest vote. I’m against everything, except the grass leaves and most of the animals and some of the people.

That admission sounds harsher than it would be if I could implement my will: for all I really want is to redeem all evil. And what I mean by “evil” is everything inharmonious. Does that make me a softy? Very well, then: I am a softy.