Yesterday I contemplated the bone head of a skeleton.  I thought to myself, “Is that what I look like inside?”  Pretty weird.  Then I thought of my pancreas.  I don’t think of my pancreas very often.  In fact, I don’t even know where it is.

It’s mine.  I’ve carried it around for over 5 decades and I don’t even know where it is.  I mean, I know where my shoes are and I’ve only had them for about 3 months now.  But my pancreas!  Come to think of it, I don’t even know why I have it!  I mean I guess I’m glad I do, but why?  What’s it for?

Worst of all (or maybe best of all) I don’t even care to learn about it.  So don’t write in and explain all you know about a pancreas.  Mine works fine.  How do I know?  I don’t.  I’m just going to assume.

In fact that’s what we all do about most all of the rest of those organs and veins and body parts that we don’t see.  We assume that they all work and go on living without any thought while they continue to do their job second after second, day after day, year after year.

Pretty cool.

Then, of course, there’s my heart.  What a concept!  Why does it keep on beating?  How do it know? Here’s another thing I’ve carried around all these years and yet go through life mostly unawares.  It’s a world totally foreign to me and yet a lot of you out there want to tell me that that’s me.  That I live in there.  That this is what I’m made of.

Hah!

You think I’m dumb enough to fall for that?  A little child wouldn’t fall for that!  I’m not in there.  It’s just the pump house.  It’s mine, but I don’t even keep it all running.  Somebody else does.  And I’ve never even met that somebody else.

You’re thinking, “Oh Peter, that’s God”.  I doubt it.  He or She or It has better things to do.  I’m sure that if He’s in charge of that, He’s at least farmed it out.  But to whom?  An assistant?  One of the disciples?

Perhaps it’s automated.  Now there’s an idea I can live with.  It’s automated to run perfectly.  I’m going to go with this concept and hold to it.  My body is automated to run perfectly and, by God, I’m going to let it do its thing.

I’m not going to worry about it, I’m not going to think about it and I’m especially not going to pay the slightest bit of attention to the myriad of television commercials that try to teach me ghastly things about it so they can get me “educated and scared you-know-what-less”.  All in the name of selling a product to me that I can’t even pronounce.

This is a world I’m going to stay far away from.  This is a world that’s really screwed up.  This is progress at its worst.

Bottom line:  I’m not in there.  I don’t even think it’s really mine.  It’s just rented.  It’s like a rental car.  We know how to drive it, but we never even look in the trunk, under the hood.  We just use it, give it a lot of gas and then turn it back in.

Here’s the real truth:  When I’m gone, after a while all that’s left back here will look somewhat like that picture at the top of the post.  If any of you have the misfortune of seeing “what’s left of me” in that unfortunate state, I very much doubt that any of you will say, “Ah, that’s Peter!”

The real truth here is in the words, “When I’m gone…”  Point is, the I of me will be gone, somewhere else, not in that hunk of bone.

I’m also convinced that I was never in there in the first place.

I don’t know about you, but I live in Mind.  Why did I capitalize that word some of you might ask?  Because I want to differentiate it from ‘brain’.  I don’t live in my brain either.  That’s just part of the rental car – perhaps part of the GPS system.  It’s the automated logic.

Right now, I just sat here for about an hour.  I thought pretty deeply about all this.  I investigated my innards like I seldom do.  But I realize now that I never once thought about breathing.  Never once did I think, “Oh yes, I should breathe.”

But breathe I did.  And thank God.  We all know what would happen if I stopped.  But I never even thought about it.

I was somewhere else – writing this blog.  Lost in thought.  Spinning through life in conscious contemplation of this mortal dream.  Looking down on these fingers typing out the symbols of my thoughts trying desperately to communicate with you the mysteries of my world.

What do you think about all this?  I’m really interested.  Not in what some human system taught you, but what you originally think about this weirdo experience called Life On Planet Earth.

Write in.  Take a chance.  Say something truly original about your experience.  Perhaps we can get to something here.

Whatever we get to has got to be better than the present perception.

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