What can be done to resurrect consciousness from its dank and dreary grave, have you ever asked yourself that? What can be done? What can be done? Can consciousness ever rise again from the deep, dark, dank and oh-so-dreary grave into which it has fallen? We’re very good at creating environments for ourselves, aren’t we? We are phenomenally good at it – we could do it in our sleep at this stage. We can do it without even trying. We’re pushing ourselves ahead of ourselves wherever we go; we’re following in our own wake and we’ll never quite catch up. Not that we want to either. We’re in no hurry to catch up. Our environment is us, and we are our environment. We define our environment down to the last detail and our environment – in its turn – defines us. That’s our trick, in a nutshell. That’s our gimmick. We are making up our own world for ourselves wherever we go and we’ll never step out of our own shadow. We are our own shadow, for God’s sake. What can be done, I hear you ask. What can be done? What can be done to resurrect consciousness from its dank and dreadful grave, and who is going to do it? We are manufacturing this most ubiquitous of dreary worlds for ourselves wherever we go, we are inventing it for ourselves a few milliseconds before we allow ourselves to ‘discover’ it. We’re setting the scene in advance, we’re writing the script. We are making all the decisions unbeknownst to ourselves – we’ve already decided what our lives are going to be! So if everything’s already been decided, then what chance do we have? What scope we have, what leeway do we have? Just what the hell are we playing at anyway, doing that to ourselves? That is yet another question we could ask! If we wanted. We buried ourselves a long time ago, and we never stop burying ourselves – we never give ourselves a chance. This is where ‘the tomb of consciousness’ comes in, of course. Here is where consciousness gets buried, here is where it gets interred in its grim and joyless tomb. I wasn’t deliberately leading up to this observation, you know. This wasn’t a predetermined exercise. I just came round the bend and there it was right in front of me. I’m just as surprised as you are! I don’t actually know if you are surprised of course. Maybe you aren’t. Maybe you aren’t surprised at all. Maybe you saw it coming! I don’t know. How could I possibly know? How could I possibly know? Consciousness is bit like Persephone, wouldn’t you say? Consciousness is more than just a bit like Persephone who got abducted by dismal old Hades and had to go and live with him in the underworld. It was a bit of company for him, down below in his gloomy realm. Miserable old bastard that he was. Eve took a bite from the apple and Persephone nibbled on the pomegranate. Persephone nibbled on a pomegranate and she shouldn’t have done. Isn’t that the story? Isn’t that how it goes?