Don’t Poke The Bear

I was trying to imagine what it would be like to see reality the first time around rather than only getting a murky old echo of an echo from time to time. I’m stuck in the Echo Chamber you see. Well and truly stuck. ‘What would it be like?’ is the question that’s currently flying around in the echo chamber of my mind. It’s a futile question of course; it’s not as if I know what I’m looking for after all. Hanging around in the old Echo Chamber of the Mind – that’s a great plot-line for a story, wouldn’t you say? And it’s not just a story, it’s my story – it’s the story of me and my mind. It’s not a great story though, it’s not exactly gripping stuff. ‘What must reality be like’, I asked myself, ‘what must it be like?’ It might be quite scary to see reality of course. That’s something we should always keep in mind – don’t pull the tiger’s tail! Don’t poke the bear. Don’t tread on the sleeping king cobra, and so on. What kind of very bad things could reality do to you if provoked? Just take a moment to ask yourself that.

 

On the other hand maybe you can’t think of anything. Maybe you’re not worried. Maybe you’ve got nothing to hide, in other words? I surely do anyway and I’m quite happy to admit that. Yes, I surely do. I wouldn’t be the only one either, not by a long chalk. I’ve got a lot to hide but I don’t rightly know what it is. I hid it too well you see. I hid it very well. One thing I’m quite clear about is that I’m in no hurry to find out what it is though! Feck that for a game of soldiers, as they say.

 

All the same, I’d be curious to know what reality is like. It’s hard not to wonder that sometimes isn’t it? You kind of get to thinking about it – it must be kind of great after all, that stands to reason. I mean, it’s got to be really hasn’t it? All the really great stuff comes from reality and so it stands to reason that reality itself must be pretty great. But then of course I had the realisation that I must be missing out big time because I’ve never encountered reality and it doesn’t look as if I will any time soon. I wouldn’t know how to go about encountering reality and anyway I wouldn’t want to risk it. I’m not great when it comes to taking risks to be honest, and that’s rather a big one, by anyone’s standards. That’s what the existential philosophers say anyway and I for one am inclined to believe them!

 

‘You can’t beat the Original!’ – that’s what it says on the side of the white commercial van that’s just passed me by as I come out of Supervalu with my bag of shopping clutched in my hand. ‘You can’t beat the Original’ – that’s the message I’m getting loud and clear from the universe right now. It’s an advert for the original. The Original and Best. ‘Since when has the original needed to advertise itself?’ – that’s the question I’d like to ask. Since when has the original had to worry about the competition? The true Original, that is. The One and Only, as they say. Oh yeah. Often imitated but never equalled, as they say. As they say. As they say. Never equalled in the Echo Chamber of my Mind, at any rate. ‘The old Recycling Centre,’ as I like to call it. I can call it anything I like really, can’t I? It’s not as if I’m going to be stopped by the police and brought in for questioning. The existential police that is. Quizzing me relentlessly at a little table in a grubby little room, quizzing me repeatedly about the nature of being and about the difference between being and nothingness and all that kind of stuff. Asking me over and over again, waiting for me to trip myself up which I won’t do. I’m far much too much of a pro to do that…

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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