| Cougar Press PO Box 894 Meadview AZ 86444 |
| Death |
Another word that might seem ugly to some people, sometimes, is death. I was taught that it
was the evolution of sexual procreation that led to the necessity for death. Otherwise the whole
planet would have become too crowded.
Most creatures have always been one-celled beings. Most of the species alive today are
unicellular. Since single cells reproduce by division, we might say that the original cellular being
still exists today. When mitosis occurred, when the cell split into identical offspring, each would
feel that it had lost matter but retained identity.
It didn't matter in the cellular world if millions or billions were destroyed or consumed. Unless
every last one were destroyed, that original cellular self would have continued to survive.
Pattiann Rogers wrote a poem, "One Cell Creatures," that brings to life in our imagination, the
lives and realities of those who are but a single cell:
was the evolution of sexual procreation that led to the necessity for death. Otherwise the whole
planet would have become too crowded.
Most creatures have always been one-celled beings. Most of the species alive today are
unicellular. Since single cells reproduce by division, we might say that the original cellular being
still exists today. When mitosis occurred, when the cell split into identical offspring, each would
feel that it had lost matter but retained identity.
It didn't matter in the cellular world if millions or billions were destroyed or consumed. Unless
every last one were destroyed, that original cellular self would have continued to survive.
Pattiann Rogers wrote a poem, "One Cell Creatures," that brings to life in our imagination, the
lives and realities of those who are but a single cell:
| Address: the Archaeans, One Cell Creatures by Pattiann Rogers Although most are totally naked and too scant for even the slightest color and although they have no voice that I’ve ever heard for cry or song, they are, nevertheless, more than mirage, more than hallucination, more than falsehood. They have confronted sulfuric boiling black sea bottoms and stayed, held on under ten tons of polar ice, established themselves in dense salts and acids, survived eating metal ions. They are more committed than oblivion, more prolific than stars. Far too ancient for scripture, each one bears in its one cell one text— the first whit of alpha, the first jot of bearing, beneath the riling sun the first nourishing of self. Too lavish for saints, too trifling for baptism, they have existed throughout never gaining girth enough to hold a firm hope of salvation. Too meager in heart for compassion, too lean for tears, less in substance than sacrifice, not one has ever carried a cross anywhere. And not one of their trillions has ever been given a tombstone. I’ve never noticed a lessening of light in the ceasing of any one of them. They are more mutable than mere breathing and vanishing, more mysterious than resurrection, too minimal for death. |
| Source: Poetry (September 2005). |
Understanding that we are vast assemblies of cells, each of which has within its border a complex
organization of sub-cellular activity, is not the same as being consciously aware of it from the
point of view of a cell, or even a mitochondrion. But this understanding can help us to relax
parts of our stress mechanisms. The activity within and between our cells accounts for all of the
higher functions that we might call feelings or perception. Let it be.
Our perceptions, feelings and actions are the obvious intent of our cells. By taking them in at the
level at which we have been designed to operate we are fulfilling the survival efforts of the entire
organism that we think of as ourself.
Our seat of consciousness is analogous to the president of a company whose interpretation of his
role, the things he says and writes, are essential to the attainment of the company's goals, in spite
of the fact that this person knows little to nothing about the products or about the raw material
and labor that has gone into them, measured on every scale, but particularly on gradients of pain
and passion, fear and pleasure.
Nor are the rank and file in on this. The workers in the ditches and mills are not aware of the
challenges faced by the boss. Their opinion of him or her can be derisive, knowing the truth that
he or she can easily be replaced. There are guys and gals putting in their applications and
resumes, showing up for interviews, leaving their phone numbers and more. Any one of them
could be selected to fill the void created by the vacancy in the office that had been J.B.'s.
This person could step into that office with a smile at the worker who is changing the name plate
on the door. She or he could sit down at the desk, pick up the phone and ask the person, who
now is his secretary/administrative assistant/lieutenant, what was on the agenda. The new boss
would have a squad of able secretaries, vice-presidents, engineers, production managers and parts
and sales personnel. For the new boss, it's only necessary to fill the niche. All of the
infrastructure is in place. He or she is to sign orders and meet emissaries from other
organizations. The forms to sign and conferences to attend are arranged by the squad.
Of course, in our ideal imaginations, the CEO of a company has considerably more autonomy
than that, but then, so does every other employee down to the guy who cleans up the scrap that
always follows production. He can walk out, and someone else can pick up the scrap. Everyone
is replaceable.
In the vast organization of cells that we think of as our body, the same applies. All cells may not
be capable of performing as the replacement, but any cell can be replaced. There are a couple of
different ways of looking at the element called "self" that we experience. One is that, from the
organization of all these cells, a higher awareness evolves. Another way of looking at it would be
to imagine one of the neurons, one of the brain cells, taking the role of conscious center.
The rest of the neurons would be free to go about the daily business of brain cells and nerves.
The new CEO of the body would probably be replacing another who had blown out. Expecting a
single neuron to run the vast assembly of billions of wildly different cells, that work together to
process endless quantities of food, water and oxygen to produce carbon dioxide, various organic
liquids and solids, energy and direction, seems unrealistic.
It is possible, however, to imagine this cell being programmed to believe that it is, in some
intense way, the leader, in control, through his trusted staff and subordinates, of the whole
project, the body of a human, for instance. This belief can extend further. The cell at the top
believes that it influences other organisms' beliefs and concepts via whatever signals it is able to
send, and with a whole, functioning human body at its disposal. Sight and sound, touch and
smell, taste and deeper senses bring in all the data that is to be analyzed by the brain and the
glands to determine what action is called for. Since all of those inputs come in through the
senses, the senses might also be able to control what the subject sees or hears.
We are familiar with the phenomena of forgetfulness, amnesia, illusions, hallucinations and
dreams. All of these events can seem real to the one experiencing it.
On a more objective level, experiments indicate that when the eyes and ears deliver data that will
result in an immediate decision to act, the muscles of the arms or legs receive their instruction to
move before the awareness of the whole emergency reaches headquarters. This is good evolution.
Routing all reactive decision problems through the center would only slow the response time.
However, it also means that the decision to move has already been made by the time I become
aware of it. Yet, I continue to believe that it was my decision.
So, what is death? If a one-celled creature is destroyed totally, we might say that it had died.
But if one of our own cells is destroyed, and this happens all of the time, we consider ourselves to
survive and not to die like the cells. Hair cells, skin cells, blood cells, all of them are worn out
and replaced.
In the beginning there was just one cell, a brand new cell that was a combination of two
half-cells, the sperm and the ovum. Much discussion has centered around whether this brand new
one-celled creature actually has a self, a soul or a center. Whatever it had, after the first mitosis
there would have been two identical cells. Since they were identical, would they both have had the
"self," or would it stay only in one? Yet, how could that be? If that cell that contained the center
were to die, as cells do, the whole organism would continue to survive.
As the growth of the being continued, cells would differentiate according to the RNA blueprint
they were working from. Yet, for the individual cell, the cell full of life, full of organelles and
mitochondria, each of these acts would have been a local event. There would be the usual
pre-mitosis bustle, genes lining up into chromosomes, and everyone becoming twins. When the
blessed event occurred, the cell would find a mirror-image of itself becoming real.
At some stage in the growth of an embryo, for instance, one cell would find that its RNA
instructions called for it to populate the portion of the new body that would eventually be the
liver. This cell wouldn't know what a liver was. For a number of replications the only rule would
be to divide and multiply: one, two, four, eight... soon the little liver will have millions of cells.
By then the cells would be differentiating further to fulfill such functions as ducts and
membranes. A mature liver has billions of cells, perhaps trillions. By the time it has reached its
functional size and is ready to start performing its various tasks, each of these cells has a job and
knows how to do it.
At the same time, each cell, if it was conscious, would know that it is the original cell, the zygote.
All of the other cells, all of the liver cells and indeed all of the other cells in the forming fetus were
created by this cell's act of dividing itself right down the middle.
So, if this cell were destroyed, would that spell death for the organism? Hardly, because every
other cell in the body has the same heritage of being the original, the one and only, the messenger
of life entrusted with the sacred DNA.
In one sense the question remains unanswered. On the other hand, this whole argument can
appear to be trivial. We know what death is. Whether it's death of a cell or death of a body, we
have a pretty good idea what it is. It's when the biological project, whatever it is or presumes
itself to be, stops functioning.
Suppose that you are a member of a club. One day that club is dissolved. The club has died, but
you go on living. You might even miss the club, or you might miss the days when the club was
still active.
There are many human structures that can die: clubs, marriages, governments, companies,
partnerships, religions, political parties. On a larger scale, astronomers tell us of the deaths of
stars and galaxies. We make a wish on a falling star without reflecting that the life of some
cosmic wanderer has just ended in a blaze of glory.
Sometimes a giant star will explode, becoming a super nova, another blaze of glory, but physics
tells us that without such ancient deaths we would be stuck in a universe composed only of
hydrogen, helium, and a trace of lithium. Now, we might look at the life of a first-generation star
as nothing more than a mechanistic combination of mass and gravity, a giant hydrogen bomb.
But we don't really know. Maybe there is a fine subjective reality to being a blazing star. Maybe
the explosion is a sacrifice.
Perhaps the first generation of stellar beings were the titans of mythology, the parents of the
gods. By now they may all have perished, yet existence continues, we go on as second generation
stars, as galaxies, as planets, as atoms and molecules, as cells and as humans.
It's curious how a discussion of death turns into a debate about what is life. Some philosophers
maintain that life is a step above the so-called inanimate objects. I wonder if this isn't a holdover
from the days of ignorance. Philosophers and scientists didn't know how complex reality was.
Given now that cells, molecules, atoms, solar systems, stars, galaxies, galactic clusters and the
entire universe are each of almost infinite complexity, where should we draw the line between
animate and inanimate?
Consider that in the span of one second, traveling at the speed of light, an electron revolves
about its nucleus more times than our planet has yet gone around the sun. Consider that the
universe has more stars than a brain has neurons. Consider that one cell can have more atoms
than there are neurons in the brain. Humans tend to be smug about life and intelligence. We
assume that only the biological forms here on Earth are alive, and we assume that, of those, only
we are intelligent. We define life with words that describe life as we know it. We define
intelligence in terms that only apply to humanity.
Intelligence as we think of it is a tool that has evolved to aid us in our survival. We can be
reasonably proud of this ability. After all, we have become one of the more populous creatures
on the planet. Given that, we must recall that there are still many other species, some of which
have already survived for much longer than we have. Raw instinct and physical toughness may
account for much of this success among the plants and animals, but it takes more than that. Just
to escape the predation and environmental destruction of humanity has required that wild
animals have a certain degree of wit.
Besides that, our intelligence is a function of our brain. It is so unlikely that the brain as an
organ in fish, reptile, birds and mammals, could have gone through hundreds of millions of years
of development without finding intelligence until the arrival of mankind. Apes are smart.
Coyotes are smart. Whales are smart. Where would the line be drawn that would rule out mental
astuteness, cleverness, brainpower or whatever we choose to call that magical ability that goes
beyond instinct.
Not only that, but as a tool to enhance survival, intelligence must be relevant to the challenges
faced by the creature. Our brains would probably not serve us well at all if we were required to
live the life of a weasel or a woodpecker. Survival itself is not very picky. Darwin didn't say
anything about survival of the smartest, or the strongest, or the best organized, or the most
accurate so far as the perception of truth and reality. What he said was survival of the fittest.
Suppose for instance there is a village full of superstitious people, and outside of town there is a
mysterious cave. Let's say these people have a tradition of avoiding the cave because they believe
it is the home of a dragon. Anyone who gets too close to the cave will be eaten by this
fire-breathing monster, so the story goes. So they stay away. Because they avoid the cave, they
survive. They have children, and they pass the myth on to the youngsters, and they survive as
well. This goes on for generations.
One day a newcomer shows up and makes his home in this little community. He soon learns
about the dragon, but he is skeptical. He is more than skeptical. He flat out does not believe
there is any dragon, not in the cave, or anywhere else. He's a smart fellow with education and
experience. He is much smarter than everyone else in the village, and he knows that dragons do
not exist.
It doesn't take long before he decides to go explore the cave himself, perhaps just to demonstrate
the superiority of his intellect. The other villagers repeat their warning about the dragon, but he
only laughs and dismisses their fairy tales. He knows that Friday the thirteenth is not an unlucky
day. He knows that good luck does not come with rabbit's feet or four-leafed clovers. He worries
not about black cats crossing his path, breaking mirrors or evil spirits. He marches boldly into
the cave while the superstitious villagers watch in horror from a safe distance.
He is never seen again. Nor does any curious villager ever follow him into the cave to see what
happened. They know what happened. He was devoured by the dragon.
Of course, we know they were stupid, ignorant and wrong. There are no dragons. However,
there are caves full of poisonous gas like hydrogen sulfide. The point is that the ignorant
superstition made the villagers fit to survive.
A less dramatic instance of this sort of fitness occurred in ancient Israel. Without microscopes
and modern biology the people could not be aware of the realities of trichinosis, but they were
aware that the Lord had forbidden them to eat pork. This made them more fit and enhanced
their survival.
Precepts banning fornication, adultery and incest did not depend on any understanding of
genetics, inbreeding and recessive genes, but some adherence to that commandment did lead to
greater health, fewer deformities and a generally more fit population.
A species must have a certain level of intelligence in order to be deluded by stories about dragons
and the word of God. It would not be nearly so easy to convince a wolf to forgo indulging in pig
meat. However, wolves have been around at least as long as we have. Their intelligence has made
them fit for their environment.
Time is another factor. The details that allowed the wolf species and its ancestors to survive for
millions of years might not take it through the twenty-first century. But it is a safe bet that life
will persist that long and longer. Death and extinction are tools that allow life to fit the ever
changing environment.
The Sun and the Earth are still here, as are the Wind and the Rain. Rivers still flow to the Sea.
The Ocean and the Land still nudge one another's shorelines. Lightning still flashes and rumbles,
and life lurks everywhere, from the deepest clefts in the ocean to the highest mountains.
The original one-celled creature is still here as well, multiplied by division to numbers that
approach infinity, warped via mutation into endless varieties.
So here's an idea: perhaps the center of reality, whether we call that center the soul, the spirit, the
self, the conscious awareness or nothing, is the same for all of existence. The science of
cosmology, the study of the origin of the universe in terms of astronomy and quantum physics,
tells us that the beginning of it all was here. Since the Big Bang, the instant of Creation, or
whatever you wish to call it, actually brought space and time into existence, then it did not
happen somewhere else because there was nowhere else. This is the conclusion of the mathematics
applied to the data of astronomy and quantum physics.
Since time itself is one of the dimensions brought into being by this event, then in a deep sense it
is also correct to say that the whole shebang is happening right now.
God is imagined as a being of infinite potential. All-knowing, all-powerful, filled with
unbounded love and mercy, this Supreme Being must almost by definition be considered almighty
curious as well. This infinite curiosity goes hand in hand with omniscience: to know everything, a
Being must know not only what is but what might be. Hence, if I were God, as the saying goes, I
would want to know what it is like to be Michael Clark living in Las Vegas, or Janine Eveland
living in Oregon, or Tianna Kolzter living in Germany. I would be curious to know and to
understand, not just what it's like to be Bob Cabler living in Southern California, but what it's
like to be Bob Cabler without any idea of the Divine Self. I would want to know what it is like to
be lost, what it is to be wandering in the world without a clue as to my origin or my destiny.
If I were God, I would wonder what it means to despair, to feel unloved, to feel pain and loss and
sorrow. If I were God, I would be curious to know what it would be like not to know that I was
the Supreme Being.
And if I were God, I would explore each of these niches. I would be, for awhile, Michael and
Janine, Bob and Tianna. I would experience the joy and the frustration, the love and the hate,
the hunger and the mystery. And then one day, when the mortal creature to whom I have
surrendered my awareness finally falls down and dies, I would remember once again who I really
am.
organization of sub-cellular activity, is not the same as being consciously aware of it from the
point of view of a cell, or even a mitochondrion. But this understanding can help us to relax
parts of our stress mechanisms. The activity within and between our cells accounts for all of the
higher functions that we might call feelings or perception. Let it be.
Our perceptions, feelings and actions are the obvious intent of our cells. By taking them in at the
level at which we have been designed to operate we are fulfilling the survival efforts of the entire
organism that we think of as ourself.
Our seat of consciousness is analogous to the president of a company whose interpretation of his
role, the things he says and writes, are essential to the attainment of the company's goals, in spite
of the fact that this person knows little to nothing about the products or about the raw material
and labor that has gone into them, measured on every scale, but particularly on gradients of pain
and passion, fear and pleasure.
Nor are the rank and file in on this. The workers in the ditches and mills are not aware of the
challenges faced by the boss. Their opinion of him or her can be derisive, knowing the truth that
he or she can easily be replaced. There are guys and gals putting in their applications and
resumes, showing up for interviews, leaving their phone numbers and more. Any one of them
could be selected to fill the void created by the vacancy in the office that had been J.B.'s.
This person could step into that office with a smile at the worker who is changing the name plate
on the door. She or he could sit down at the desk, pick up the phone and ask the person, who
now is his secretary/administrative assistant/lieutenant, what was on the agenda. The new boss
would have a squad of able secretaries, vice-presidents, engineers, production managers and parts
and sales personnel. For the new boss, it's only necessary to fill the niche. All of the
infrastructure is in place. He or she is to sign orders and meet emissaries from other
organizations. The forms to sign and conferences to attend are arranged by the squad.
Of course, in our ideal imaginations, the CEO of a company has considerably more autonomy
than that, but then, so does every other employee down to the guy who cleans up the scrap that
always follows production. He can walk out, and someone else can pick up the scrap. Everyone
is replaceable.
In the vast organization of cells that we think of as our body, the same applies. All cells may not
be capable of performing as the replacement, but any cell can be replaced. There are a couple of
different ways of looking at the element called "self" that we experience. One is that, from the
organization of all these cells, a higher awareness evolves. Another way of looking at it would be
to imagine one of the neurons, one of the brain cells, taking the role of conscious center.
The rest of the neurons would be free to go about the daily business of brain cells and nerves.
The new CEO of the body would probably be replacing another who had blown out. Expecting a
single neuron to run the vast assembly of billions of wildly different cells, that work together to
process endless quantities of food, water and oxygen to produce carbon dioxide, various organic
liquids and solids, energy and direction, seems unrealistic.
It is possible, however, to imagine this cell being programmed to believe that it is, in some
intense way, the leader, in control, through his trusted staff and subordinates, of the whole
project, the body of a human, for instance. This belief can extend further. The cell at the top
believes that it influences other organisms' beliefs and concepts via whatever signals it is able to
send, and with a whole, functioning human body at its disposal. Sight and sound, touch and
smell, taste and deeper senses bring in all the data that is to be analyzed by the brain and the
glands to determine what action is called for. Since all of those inputs come in through the
senses, the senses might also be able to control what the subject sees or hears.
We are familiar with the phenomena of forgetfulness, amnesia, illusions, hallucinations and
dreams. All of these events can seem real to the one experiencing it.
On a more objective level, experiments indicate that when the eyes and ears deliver data that will
result in an immediate decision to act, the muscles of the arms or legs receive their instruction to
move before the awareness of the whole emergency reaches headquarters. This is good evolution.
Routing all reactive decision problems through the center would only slow the response time.
However, it also means that the decision to move has already been made by the time I become
aware of it. Yet, I continue to believe that it was my decision.
So, what is death? If a one-celled creature is destroyed totally, we might say that it had died.
But if one of our own cells is destroyed, and this happens all of the time, we consider ourselves to
survive and not to die like the cells. Hair cells, skin cells, blood cells, all of them are worn out
and replaced.
In the beginning there was just one cell, a brand new cell that was a combination of two
half-cells, the sperm and the ovum. Much discussion has centered around whether this brand new
one-celled creature actually has a self, a soul or a center. Whatever it had, after the first mitosis
there would have been two identical cells. Since they were identical, would they both have had the
"self," or would it stay only in one? Yet, how could that be? If that cell that contained the center
were to die, as cells do, the whole organism would continue to survive.
As the growth of the being continued, cells would differentiate according to the RNA blueprint
they were working from. Yet, for the individual cell, the cell full of life, full of organelles and
mitochondria, each of these acts would have been a local event. There would be the usual
pre-mitosis bustle, genes lining up into chromosomes, and everyone becoming twins. When the
blessed event occurred, the cell would find a mirror-image of itself becoming real.
At some stage in the growth of an embryo, for instance, one cell would find that its RNA
instructions called for it to populate the portion of the new body that would eventually be the
liver. This cell wouldn't know what a liver was. For a number of replications the only rule would
be to divide and multiply: one, two, four, eight... soon the little liver will have millions of cells.
By then the cells would be differentiating further to fulfill such functions as ducts and
membranes. A mature liver has billions of cells, perhaps trillions. By the time it has reached its
functional size and is ready to start performing its various tasks, each of these cells has a job and
knows how to do it.
At the same time, each cell, if it was conscious, would know that it is the original cell, the zygote.
All of the other cells, all of the liver cells and indeed all of the other cells in the forming fetus were
created by this cell's act of dividing itself right down the middle.
So, if this cell were destroyed, would that spell death for the organism? Hardly, because every
other cell in the body has the same heritage of being the original, the one and only, the messenger
of life entrusted with the sacred DNA.
In one sense the question remains unanswered. On the other hand, this whole argument can
appear to be trivial. We know what death is. Whether it's death of a cell or death of a body, we
have a pretty good idea what it is. It's when the biological project, whatever it is or presumes
itself to be, stops functioning.
Suppose that you are a member of a club. One day that club is dissolved. The club has died, but
you go on living. You might even miss the club, or you might miss the days when the club was
still active.
There are many human structures that can die: clubs, marriages, governments, companies,
partnerships, religions, political parties. On a larger scale, astronomers tell us of the deaths of
stars and galaxies. We make a wish on a falling star without reflecting that the life of some
cosmic wanderer has just ended in a blaze of glory.
Sometimes a giant star will explode, becoming a super nova, another blaze of glory, but physics
tells us that without such ancient deaths we would be stuck in a universe composed only of
hydrogen, helium, and a trace of lithium. Now, we might look at the life of a first-generation star
as nothing more than a mechanistic combination of mass and gravity, a giant hydrogen bomb.
But we don't really know. Maybe there is a fine subjective reality to being a blazing star. Maybe
the explosion is a sacrifice.
Perhaps the first generation of stellar beings were the titans of mythology, the parents of the
gods. By now they may all have perished, yet existence continues, we go on as second generation
stars, as galaxies, as planets, as atoms and molecules, as cells and as humans.
It's curious how a discussion of death turns into a debate about what is life. Some philosophers
maintain that life is a step above the so-called inanimate objects. I wonder if this isn't a holdover
from the days of ignorance. Philosophers and scientists didn't know how complex reality was.
Given now that cells, molecules, atoms, solar systems, stars, galaxies, galactic clusters and the
entire universe are each of almost infinite complexity, where should we draw the line between
animate and inanimate?
Consider that in the span of one second, traveling at the speed of light, an electron revolves
about its nucleus more times than our planet has yet gone around the sun. Consider that the
universe has more stars than a brain has neurons. Consider that one cell can have more atoms
than there are neurons in the brain. Humans tend to be smug about life and intelligence. We
assume that only the biological forms here on Earth are alive, and we assume that, of those, only
we are intelligent. We define life with words that describe life as we know it. We define
intelligence in terms that only apply to humanity.
Intelligence as we think of it is a tool that has evolved to aid us in our survival. We can be
reasonably proud of this ability. After all, we have become one of the more populous creatures
on the planet. Given that, we must recall that there are still many other species, some of which
have already survived for much longer than we have. Raw instinct and physical toughness may
account for much of this success among the plants and animals, but it takes more than that. Just
to escape the predation and environmental destruction of humanity has required that wild
animals have a certain degree of wit.
Besides that, our intelligence is a function of our brain. It is so unlikely that the brain as an
organ in fish, reptile, birds and mammals, could have gone through hundreds of millions of years
of development without finding intelligence until the arrival of mankind. Apes are smart.
Coyotes are smart. Whales are smart. Where would the line be drawn that would rule out mental
astuteness, cleverness, brainpower or whatever we choose to call that magical ability that goes
beyond instinct.
Not only that, but as a tool to enhance survival, intelligence must be relevant to the challenges
faced by the creature. Our brains would probably not serve us well at all if we were required to
live the life of a weasel or a woodpecker. Survival itself is not very picky. Darwin didn't say
anything about survival of the smartest, or the strongest, or the best organized, or the most
accurate so far as the perception of truth and reality. What he said was survival of the fittest.
Suppose for instance there is a village full of superstitious people, and outside of town there is a
mysterious cave. Let's say these people have a tradition of avoiding the cave because they believe
it is the home of a dragon. Anyone who gets too close to the cave will be eaten by this
fire-breathing monster, so the story goes. So they stay away. Because they avoid the cave, they
survive. They have children, and they pass the myth on to the youngsters, and they survive as
well. This goes on for generations.
One day a newcomer shows up and makes his home in this little community. He soon learns
about the dragon, but he is skeptical. He is more than skeptical. He flat out does not believe
there is any dragon, not in the cave, or anywhere else. He's a smart fellow with education and
experience. He is much smarter than everyone else in the village, and he knows that dragons do
not exist.
It doesn't take long before he decides to go explore the cave himself, perhaps just to demonstrate
the superiority of his intellect. The other villagers repeat their warning about the dragon, but he
only laughs and dismisses their fairy tales. He knows that Friday the thirteenth is not an unlucky
day. He knows that good luck does not come with rabbit's feet or four-leafed clovers. He worries
not about black cats crossing his path, breaking mirrors or evil spirits. He marches boldly into
the cave while the superstitious villagers watch in horror from a safe distance.
He is never seen again. Nor does any curious villager ever follow him into the cave to see what
happened. They know what happened. He was devoured by the dragon.
Of course, we know they were stupid, ignorant and wrong. There are no dragons. However,
there are caves full of poisonous gas like hydrogen sulfide. The point is that the ignorant
superstition made the villagers fit to survive.
A less dramatic instance of this sort of fitness occurred in ancient Israel. Without microscopes
and modern biology the people could not be aware of the realities of trichinosis, but they were
aware that the Lord had forbidden them to eat pork. This made them more fit and enhanced
their survival.
Precepts banning fornication, adultery and incest did not depend on any understanding of
genetics, inbreeding and recessive genes, but some adherence to that commandment did lead to
greater health, fewer deformities and a generally more fit population.
A species must have a certain level of intelligence in order to be deluded by stories about dragons
and the word of God. It would not be nearly so easy to convince a wolf to forgo indulging in pig
meat. However, wolves have been around at least as long as we have. Their intelligence has made
them fit for their environment.
Time is another factor. The details that allowed the wolf species and its ancestors to survive for
millions of years might not take it through the twenty-first century. But it is a safe bet that life
will persist that long and longer. Death and extinction are tools that allow life to fit the ever
changing environment.
The Sun and the Earth are still here, as are the Wind and the Rain. Rivers still flow to the Sea.
The Ocean and the Land still nudge one another's shorelines. Lightning still flashes and rumbles,
and life lurks everywhere, from the deepest clefts in the ocean to the highest mountains.
The original one-celled creature is still here as well, multiplied by division to numbers that
approach infinity, warped via mutation into endless varieties.
So here's an idea: perhaps the center of reality, whether we call that center the soul, the spirit, the
self, the conscious awareness or nothing, is the same for all of existence. The science of
cosmology, the study of the origin of the universe in terms of astronomy and quantum physics,
tells us that the beginning of it all was here. Since the Big Bang, the instant of Creation, or
whatever you wish to call it, actually brought space and time into existence, then it did not
happen somewhere else because there was nowhere else. This is the conclusion of the mathematics
applied to the data of astronomy and quantum physics.
Since time itself is one of the dimensions brought into being by this event, then in a deep sense it
is also correct to say that the whole shebang is happening right now.
God is imagined as a being of infinite potential. All-knowing, all-powerful, filled with
unbounded love and mercy, this Supreme Being must almost by definition be considered almighty
curious as well. This infinite curiosity goes hand in hand with omniscience: to know everything, a
Being must know not only what is but what might be. Hence, if I were God, as the saying goes, I
would want to know what it is like to be Michael Clark living in Las Vegas, or Janine Eveland
living in Oregon, or Tianna Kolzter living in Germany. I would be curious to know and to
understand, not just what it's like to be Bob Cabler living in Southern California, but what it's
like to be Bob Cabler without any idea of the Divine Self. I would want to know what it is like to
be lost, what it is to be wandering in the world without a clue as to my origin or my destiny.
If I were God, I would wonder what it means to despair, to feel unloved, to feel pain and loss and
sorrow. If I were God, I would be curious to know what it would be like not to know that I was
the Supreme Being.
And if I were God, I would explore each of these niches. I would be, for awhile, Michael and
Janine, Bob and Tianna. I would experience the joy and the frustration, the love and the hate,
the hunger and the mystery. And then one day, when the mortal creature to whom I have
surrendered my awareness finally falls down and dies, I would remember once again who I really
am.
| Yoga for Carnivores by Jay Dyck |