I have not sought to hide that I am writing as one claiming faith in God, even that there is a faith of God delivered through one man true in that faith, Jesus Christ. I no less believe that the god of which He testified/testifies is the God over all others that might be testified to, or by, any other. He testifies of the God who has no boss. None above Him in any sense, the very Head of all things. All visible and invisible (at least to us) and as we might describe them.
And if I have had any compelling in this writing, at least such as I might or am able to discern, it is in part to such end that a very invisible matter to us, though far more real than most anything other we may handle (so to speak) and by which we do indeed handle all matters, even handling them in it, that is “our” consciousness, is as real a thing…and even more so than that chair you may sit in; for it is all and only in your consciousness that it is even assigned…reality.
I can easily tolerate any and all disagreement here and would be interested to hear any contention or argument against. And I am rather persuaded that even the most strident argument against would only betray that a consciousness as a thing is at work (an entirely invisible matter working in an entirely invisible manner) that contends against. Any use of it…betrays we “have it”.
And please, if so inclined, do not trouble yourself with reference to PET scans or fMRI to say such matter of claimed invisibility is now made visible (“Look! we can now “see” thought activity!” or “Man makes the once invisible…visible!”) for I have never denied man as “a” god with even some proclivity to make the previously unseen of others then seen to others. For you would trouble yourself far less in contentions if merely pointing me to Picasso’s Guernica. Or a wheel. Or just…speech.
Men are always making stuff from their minds. Translating invisible stuff to visible stuff or modulating air waves. Or writing. Or frowning. Yet the thing from which they spring…even consciousness itself, remains invisible, indecipherable, even named…but as author of all definitions (for us if locked up to it) it is itself indefinable.
There, surely…but only able to show…in part. And only showing itself…even to us…in part. Just how large is the basement of our subconscious upon which our house above is built, in its bellowing and belching up resonant rumblings? Even and every so often…terrifying ones when we are defenseless against them?
Little wonder man is a god to himself, seeing his own choices, proclivities, propensities, ideas, of some ableness to be made real to himself. No attempt has been here made to deny. No attempt remains to deny. Man makes a lot real to himself and is often found seeking to make such to others. There’s a great market for ideas. Much to be made off of, or from stuff that was once invisible to even the man, but when come across, or stumbled upon…or even diligently sought as through a veil till finally grasped…many will pay well for something…”new”. And different.
But I am only writing about the very oldest thing any of us know…or are able remember…consciousness. Nothing new here at all. Nothing marketable. Maybe even a thing thought so common as to be thought absurd to mention. Like writing a treatise on toe nails. Nothing to be sold or bought, not even anything to be re-branded. And we all presently, to whatever extent we do have it, know we have it.
And what I may see “about it” may be better expressed by others, considered deeper and longer (for I am still in my youth) to some interest of far greater generation than I achieve. Yet, I am no less persuaded, each of us having it are no less persuaded we are all experts in it. For really, with what else do we seek to do…everything? “It” gets a lot of use. And just as the roofer who pounds nails all day can become something of an expert in use of, and about hammers, we are all pretty convinced our working is perfectly suited to the way we use ours.
“All of a man’s ways are right in his own eyes” is a sentence that comes to mind.
What could ever make this plain to a man? I surely can not.
For neither have I sought (and often made plain) that anything of my own mind, even in belief of the God whom Jesus the Christ declares is in my purview to make real to another. That perfection of frustrating, mentioned a few pages back, is made plain to me now…not as irksome bounding, but as a relief given, even a very savory truth to abide in. As in “I have tried everything to no avail in perfect frustration therefore I have no choice but to rest from it”.
“Of myself, I can do nothing” once a thing so hard on the hearing…to be striven against in reply of ability to refute, to prove otherwise, to show as even conquerable, has invaded and devastated all opposition when I was made aware I am in the one speaking it. And I surely didn’t choose who to be in. No more than you can, or do.
And yes, I was so sure I was assigned myself only in which to live and be…and isolated. There is/was no visible, invisible, known or unknown possible way out of this enforced conundrum and most perplexing to utter despair of condition. Finding an inescapable taskmaster thrashing constantly to being right, to being correct, to knowing of anything to a surety; but in such palpable isolation any and all assurance necessary for any confirmation, for verification, was utterly denied.
Then, an invasion. By a conqueror.
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