This action might not be possible to undo. Are you sure you want to continue?
He told me that our minds are not our own. That we are merely conduits to anothe r, higher, conscience. According to this man, we share the same desires and passions, not because they are common to us all as a human condition, but because they flow from the same w ell-spring. A sort of "anatta" that transcends even Siddhartha's insights. He went on to tell me that his gnosis is pure... as he meditated greatly for thi s enlightenment. His faith was in his own discovery of this greater consciousnes s. There was no pause for reflection. His open mind was now closed, as he knew now, like never before. The same blind zealotry to be found in street corner doom-sayers. Whatever we thought we knew is incorrect, as he saw the truth unlike any other. His beliefs weighed more valid as a result of some unmentioned titanic struggle to discern between reality and noise. His open mind had torn apart the deception s we have wrapped ourselves in. Our thoughts, our fears, our very selves... nothing but faint echoes of another. No... an Other. Or should that be an All? Is it a monistic existentialism that would lead a man to say such things? A neoBuddhism? Do we really share the same loves and hates? Are my peculiarities an i nverse of yours; dualistically balancing out the greater system? Our minds the s ame, only changed by the attenuation of the curliques of the cerebrum? Did Henry Dale strive so mightily forth on a fool's errand? A Don Quixote tiltin g the windmills of the telencephalon? His reasoning of synaptic function just th e amatuer probing of an antenna and wet electronics? Did Decartes really get it so wrong? If not "I think, therefore I am.", then "I think, just because."?