Life, explained (3)

Part 1 is here.

Part 2 is here.

While the explanation is kept to the simplest of terms and avoids many of the complications which we all live through, it is important to grasp the elements from which the complexity is created. Only by grokking the building blocks can you begin to comprehend the delightfully rich stuff which life brings our way.

Let's keep playing.

Games we learn as children, at least most of them, are games which are designed to have a definitive end and a winner of the game when it ends.

Life is not like that.

Sure, there are competitions we cook up in our lives which are exactly the same finite games of our childhood. I'm a big fan of some of them and participate in some. Here's a silly thing I have noticed: even when we all acknowledge that it is a game which is going on, there are still people who act as if it is a cause for seriousness.

The point is, there are people who will not get what I am talking about here. That's perfectly okay, don't get me wrong. I'm not seeking to convert anyone from taking everything about life with a concentrated look on their faces and an intensity in their eyes, to something more akin to how I now seek to live. That's their choice, and bless them on their path.

For anyone reading who has been made curious, what follows is a meandering description of the game which began before our births and will continue on for an undetermined period after our Earth suits have been discarded.

We start together, so "together" that there is only Me. Through some process I am not able to describe, we each, even as still being Me, plan a visit away from the collective energy which is Me. It is a means by which we can love even more than we do already.

Once the plan is complete, we leave Me and head to Earth. We arrive at some point before we are born and begin to breathe (I'll leave the exact details of when we arrive to the attorneys and folks who can tell you exactly how many angels can dance on the head of a pin). To make things even more interesting and to insure our own total involvement, we allow ourselves to forget where we were before we came to inhabit this little 20-inch-long Earth suit.

The giants in the room are in charge, that much is obvious. They don't feed us or remove our soiled garments unless we scream at them. It is very frustrating, these not-very-attentive giants. They either forget to change our clothes, or they are in our faces making funny noises while we are simply trying to sleep. It is clear they don't understand us.

Over time, we are able to communicate with the giants and, at least sometimes, get what we need from them. While they are still only partially cooperative, they are easier to direct once we can speak their language.

This is when things really get screwy.

See more of the tale in the next post. Tomorrow, maybe.