The jumping point

 

Steaming coffee. Jazz music. Miles Davis’ So What¬†fills the room, mingled with soft conversation. Words. Ideas. Now that we’re alive, what’s next? We all fit in. Doing our parts. Perfecting our roles. Becoming masters of our trades. Cogs in the machine. All parts working and functioning perfectly.

Stay the task. Baker. Doctor. Electrician. Chef. The world is counting on you, please don’t stumble, please don’t fall. We need you! But at some point you will stumble, you will fall. And the eyes of the world will turn upon you. Produce or be replaced. The machine must continue at absolute efficiency. A broken cog will be replaced by a newer, stronger one.

I sip my coffee. Admiring the perfection and the complex machine that produced it. Everyone does their part, day after day, so that I can enjoy this coffee, this chair, this warm room, this jazz, the clothes I wear, the food I eat. I respect the process, and understand the importance of the machine, but I cannot resist the urge to jump off. The urge grows stronger every day.

But this is Anarchy. It’s non-human. Anti-American! So why do it? Why the urge to jump? I cannot recommend the spiritual path, meditation, or anything that causes your mind to stop, step back, and look down upon the great machine. Or rather look up to it. Admire it’s grand perfection. For it seems so impossible, so improbable, yet so mathematical. We all do our parts, day after day, year after year, and of our own free will.

THE GREAT MACHINE.

But if we step back to refocus, watching from a place of deep meditation, our world is changed forever. For how long can we continue playing our roles from this new perspective? The allure of the unknown will haunt our work days. What would it be like outside?

If we do jump off, could we ever return? Will they let us back in? Will we let ourselves back in? Or will we soar to unfathomable heights? Beyond our wildest imaginations. To that fairy-tale land beyond our dreams?