Notes on being.
That’s the insight: To be or not to be is the fucking same, for there’s but
being. There is only being – sometimes disguised in our minds as
“being” – the second being (= “being”) is the fleeting illusion of the first.
When the illusion dies (evaporates,) the being is still there – for it
cannot not be – only that is not acknowledged through the naming of
the illusion.
Let’s say there is a frog called Andrew – called Andrew by me. Let’s say
the frog somehow learns for an instant that his name is Andrew – “I’m
Andrew,” he says, “a being” – and the next instant forgets. Yet, both
when it knew and when it didn’t, the frog still was the same frog, and
the same Andrew to me, and objective watcher of the proceedings.
Same thing with being. Being is – and the illusion of me knowing that I
am being lasts more or less as long as the instant Andrew knew he was a
frog (and named, no less.)
Andrew is as much of an illusion as I am. A total illusion of being –
named but for an instant.
Does Andrew suffer more when named or when not named...? Suffers
exactly in the same measure.
Would he suffer less if somehow managed to learn to know that he is an
illusion – a piece of being named (either by itself or by me)...? No; to be
(even faintly) conscious of living means to suffer (in a certain degree.)
For being sometimes hurts. Hurts during the space in which that piece
of being acts (named or unnamed) as a unity.
Unnamed I might suffer less...? True, I might, but how do you un-name
yourself. Some “crazies” seem to suffer less than the “sane”; on the
other hand, other “crazies” seem to suffer somewhat more. It is all a
matter of degree.
Why being chooses (or is impelled) to suffer by acquiring fleeting
masses of unity is beyond my ken. Being is what there is, and what
there is cannot not be.
So don’t ever tell me again the words of that idiot: “To be or not to be,”
for that is not a quandary, that is a non-sense. And I am above dealing
with nonsensical phraseology – I’ve other fish to
name.
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