Life Inside the Hologram

Do we have free will, or does the Cosmic Engineer control it all?

Things are more often than not, not what they seem.

The things are there waiting in anticipation for us to place a meaning and often a hidden meaning to the more obvious one. An imagined slight was just a bit of shyness to another who watched from afar.

So, in this way we choose our life, not the circumstances at all times, but the meaning we give it. Is the world kind to us, or hostile? Are people generous or looking for ways to give us short shrift?

Are we well cared for in every need or are we scrambling for enough to keep us in good stead while everyone else takes it all before we get there? Are we beautiful and well-formed or lumpy and lacking in grace? On some days I am all of these and some days none. Something about getting the bear or not bothering to venture into the woods at all, comes to mind.

Why, then, ’tis none to you, for there is nothing either good or bad, but thinking makes it so. Shakespeare’s Hamlet.

Are we at the mercy of the elements or are we in control of how we perceive those elements? Oh, too, too, philosophical for my wee head and I’m getting a headache.

There are the loud, mouthy relatives who shut me out. Are they trying to insulate themselves from more hurt? A small family group, they can control. And in so doing, make themselves perfect and turn outward to point and jest at those who are not in the group.

Cosmic Engineer is looking down (if there is a down) but looking somewhere to see what the humans will do next.

I’ll put them on a big rock and set the dogs loose on them. They think they are in control. Oh, the little darling things. And what a complex thing they think this world is, if they only knew how simple it is compared to mine.

A little game to amuse myself that’s all it is. I think I would like to see how it feels or what it is like to be confused and lost. So I’ll put these little beings down there and see how they fare.

At first they start out as little mewling things, no protection, no way to get food, no way to clean themselves. And who thought up the idea of needing food and protection and shelter? That was genius on my part. They need these things and have to depend on some other to get it for them. Helpless as they are. And what do they do? They scream and make these unflattering noises to get what they want.

They just scream and the others try to figure out how to make the yelling stop by trying different things to see if that works. Sometimes it does, so when the yelling starts up again, they do the same things that made it stop last time. Maybe it will work this time. Oh, yes, that did it. It makes the gurgling noises now, that must be the right things because I would rather hear the gurgling than that screaming.

And it gets bigger if it gets the right food. The body gets bigger if it stays right and away from disease. Oh, that was a genius one, too.

It starts to move on its own, it sits up, it rolls over and they all cheer, yay, it is doing the right things. We must have done something right. It stands on its two legs. It wobbles and sits down. That lump of fatty tissue that is encased in the top ball on the stalk, now that is a work of art. It holds everything in there. It does everything. Just fat. That’s all it is.

No writer can make up better conflict than that.

And if it stops when it is young and if it stops living before the other ones want it to, they are distraught, they cry and wail and scream, and say it is a tragedy and are so sad and it affects their lives forever. They must not let the life stop. They must do everything so that it doesn’t stop. It is such a tragedy when it stops.

Don’t they know that it stops when it is supposed to stop? No, they don’t. Everything is as it should be and as it is. Let go and let it be. You be. But then, that is how I set the game up. It would be no fun for me if there were no conflict. I want the conflict. If there is no conflict there is no game. All is as it is, here now, as the Cosmic Engineer. Let it go, say I, and let me run my game. It’s all a big game. Anyway.

The value of life is the value of life not the non-stoppage of life.

So much time and energy placed on trying to keep from dying. Live just live. Let it go. Do we have no choices here? Are there no choices at all? Are we just puppets along for the ride? Can we not make anything happen, try as we might? We think we are choosing. We think we are controlling. We think we are making our life better but are we?

You are your thoughts, some say. You can create. You can ask your heavenly father to change things and to heal someone and to bring some money and turn gray hair brown again.

It might happen for those people whose destiny it is to have those things that they want. They might have those things, they say, if it works for one it works for all. Not so. It works for the ones whose destiny it is to work for.

If Cosmic Engineer wants to experience the illusion of having a method or way of creating something then for those people it works. The Science of Getting Rich, Think and Grow Rich, for those who sell the books, and you must do it right, think the right thoughts, and if it doesn’t work then you didn’t think the right thoughts. Hmmmm.

So, our choice is how we respond to the things that are put in our path?

Or maybe we don’t even have that choice. Maybe all if it is not our choice. We respond to outside circumstances the way the Cosmic Engineer wants us to and therefore how Cosmic Engineer wants to experience it. There is no God except to those whose destiny it is to have one.

I want my own destiny. How delightfully selfish and self-centered I am. I like it. I revel in it. It is such fun to be aware only of myself. I experience it now. I want and I have. Inside my body, inside this illusion of self. I have no higher self. What freedom. To go about the day and excite oneself in the anticipation of what new thing will be thought up for me to do and have.

Perhaps, one’s purpose is to try to create a life of ease and wealth, and fun and excess. That could be one type of experience. Another might be, to be free of caring about anyone but oneself. Some of the people here say that it is not good. It is not moral. That one must give always to another to be happy.

Have the right body, have the right hair, have the right amount of money. Too much and people don’t like it, and not enough and people don’t like it. You have to have just the right amount.

Perhaps I can be a writer, perhaps I can play the fiddle well. Perhaps, I can learn. Perhaps, I asked the Great and Powerful Oz for these experiences and, perhaps, I didn’t ask for them. Perhaps I was just given the idea and where do these ideas come from? From my brain? From my genetic DNA? From the Cosmic Engineer? From where?

Does it matter, does it really matter? Just relax and let it come and see what pops up next. Oh, I like not caring about other people. I like not trying to please. I’m learning that. Cold as a mackerel. Perhaps I can be beautiful. And look young or at least think I am and if I think it then I am.

If I can forget the past then there is no past. If there is no past other people do not remember me.

I like getting on the muse stream, just like I wanted the words to come through and write themselves. I wanted the experience of it flowing and being easy. And to feel the buzz of the story coming through. My perception is that it is easy. I didn’t make it easy. Cosmic Engineer is doing that. Follow the drinking gourd.

If I ask Cosmic Engineer for something is it because Cosmic Engineer has put that thought in my head ahead of time? And me thinking it is my idea. How funny! Just relax and let the words come. I find it fun to write. I find it fast and easy. So I might write a best seller and have lots of money and experience what it is like to be popular. I might not like it.

An’ ye didn’t like it here, then why did ye come.

I write three-inch-thick books. I want to enjoy every bit of the process. All the words. Where do you get your ideas? From different places. Where do you get your ideas? Why, the Cosmic Engineer puts them there.

Almost done, what interesting turns this night’s plans have made. What interesting turns this life has made. What interesting things are still to conspire to happen and I get to push all these buttons? I love to push buttons. And it pops on the screen, as if by magic and it is magic. But there is an explanation, for the game is not the magic but the made-up explanation for the magic.

Magic is not supposed to happen but magic does happen and we have to make up an explanation for it so it fits the game. Maybe writing 50,000 words is so that I will realize that this is just a game and the Cosmic Engineer is telling the story to me. Tell it through me, tell it to me and I will tell it all.