Did I
“give up nirvana out of compassion for humanity”? Perhaps. Or else I simply had
to choose to return for my own karmic purposes. But a “poor substitute” still
may somewhat suffice in a world lacking even that.
Well, let’s start at the beginning.
But, hmmm, which one, and was that a beginning, an end, or a replay? At what
point, then, to plunge in? Suddenly, great waves of sorrow even at the thought
of “going there” once again. I am sometimes hammered by desperate dreams of
repetition in which I present the same series of numbers or letters endlessly
in an attempt to finally “get it right” even though it really is exactly the
same as it was endlessly before. Nietzsche’s eternal recurrence all over again. There is no “doing it over and
over until we get it right”; there is simply do it over and over, the eternal sameness.
This would drive anyone insane.
Is it that we all inherently know
this, and so choose to be born into the distraction of being in bodies, in
flesh, identifying with such, dying to such, and then again choosing to repeat
the cycle until bodies themselves as potential forms end, but then finding
another form in which we might find almost ultimate distraction, until finally
the pralaya occurs, and we are once
again absorbed into ourselves-as-nothingness?
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