So Thick It Is Dripping Off The Walls

Its all around us.  Its in the pictures on the walls, the paint on the walls, and in the walls themselves.  The ineffable, that in which we can not describe.  Some had a particular knack of eliciting thinking that would dance around the outskirts of this thing.  Terence McKenna, in my opinion, was a linguistic ninja using words to cut into subjects with the blade of an ultra sharp samurai sword.  You can tell that he loved and hated it, it was his gift and his curse, and he understood the necessity of this paradox as well as any in human history.  To be the wordsmith that he was, and to simply sound like the rest of the "weirdos" and "crazies" to someone simply passing by is something I am sure he could appreciate the humour of.  And at the root of that cosmic joke sits in the ineffable.

Rest in peace Mckenna, sadly succumbing to a brain tumour.  Another wink from the transcendental... thing.  A person who's life was dedicated to studying, understanding, promoting the benefit and safety of psychedelic plants, dying from a brain tumour.  The universe loves to mix a little of the grotesque with the beauty.

I am all that is.  I am infinite, as infinite as the universe and that in which I am simultaneously searching for, attempting to understand, and describe.  And the exact definition of what makes me... me, the part of me that is truly me and nothing else in this universe is...everything that is not.  I am exactly the totality of everything that does not exist anywhere else in the universe.  I am all that is not.

So why am I writing here?  When the greatest minds of the world have unsuccessfully tackled this subject for millennia, what can I possibly add?  Perhaps the irony of the universe will allow for one of the dimmer minds to finally nail this thing down.  Of course I know that is only a fruitless wish, precisely the reason it can not happen.  It can not be nailed down, this I know.  But I can not live without trying. I am here not to show you what it is, but to show you there is something to see.  Something that only you can see, and you can only see, hear and feel.  But you can not speak it, or draw it or write it.  It is in everything but what you wish it to be in, ha.  But it will dance with you.  It will dance with you as long as you wish to dance, and it is always there to dance with.

Is this the greatest work I have written, or meaningless ramblings?  Is it wrong for me to ask?  We are all infinitely deep, and its fun to dive into ourselves.  But surely there is a use for the depth that we can find.   I am talking to all who wish to listen, but mainly I am talking to myself.  This is a reflection of me, and I can use it like a mirror for my mind to see my flaws.  You can use it like a picture on a wall.