Inconsequential consequences

I, like most, have moments where I leap effortlessly between recognizing the one-song (uni-verse) as an unthinkably infinite thing, and imagining that my chosen microcosm is somehow the end-all.  Whether I do the dishes or not ... whether I fold the towels or not... whether I let the weeds grow or not... whether I accept that the weeds are going to grow, quite independent of my opinion on the matter... all of these decisions I imagine myself in charge of, the universe continues on around me, so it is foolhardy to take oneself too seriously.

Yet why has my consciousness chosen this material form?  Did 'I' - that is, the consciousness that has taken on this language and given itself the designation 'I' - choose this particular form for a reason?  Was it granted to me by some other consciousness as a test?

Before I start chastising myself for the notion that, somehow, existence is a series of tests and contradictions and gainsays that serve some higher purpose, let me state for the record (and for the moment) that I don't yet understand what purpose is served by such a thing.  I'm willing to accept, if it comes to it, that human consciousness isn't a mystical creation, but a by-product of a brain evolution gone awry.

That idea may change later on.

In the meantime, I'm pretending it all makes sense to me, and that I am simply strolling along the unending path of universal discovery for a purpose that evolves, fine-tunes, creates and diminishes itself.  I am accepting, as well, that my continued use of "me" and "I" and "you" and "them" and so on are just relics of this ego-based paradigm humans have come to embrace.  The notion that the elephant in the room - "ego" - is something that I am bound to fight off on the path to this mysterious state of being called "enlightenment".

I become aware, as I type these ideas out, that they all sound very strange and to a large degree, fabricated by a mind-run-amok.  Am I separate from mind?  Is the concept of heart something that balances the logical mind?  Is the mind capable of objectively pondering itself or even other minds?  ARE there other minds?  Why am I typing this here - for my mind, for "me", for what I imagine are other minds, or some other purpose I cannot even fathom?  Am I a conduit for a higher voice?  Is that voice something greater than what I call "me" or "I"?

This line of unanswerable questions can go on ad infinitum, ad nauseum.  I expect you wouldn't read that long, since I don't have any firm concepts upon which to answer even a single question.  The universe is infinite expanse, and even good ol' Science can't say with certainty that all of the universe's tricks and trappings can be observed and tested and theorized from our single planet's offerings.  And, in that vein, our concept of infinity (wrapped as it is in various cloaks called religions) is just as narrow.  Can minds like ours even conceive true infinity?  Timelessness - no beginnings or endings?

So what is there to talk about?  Is experience only valid if put into words?  I for one cannot adequately describe what it's like to watch a bee at its work, witness the slow process from seed to seedling to sprout to bud to flower to fruit, watch the dung beetle roll its fecal prize backwards across a long sidewalk, watch the waves consume a polynesian shore, describe the sensation of seeing a star's 435-year old twinkling having just arrived at my eyeball.

Human experience feels like a trap sometime.  With such evidence of the infinite, why does the human brain repeat the same 60,000 thoughts every day?  What is the case to be made for limitations?  Is it really easier if everyone conforms?  Human consciousness certainly seems in its earliest stages of infancy.  Should be an interesting, "enlightening" journey.  Regardless of how we feel about it or through which paradigm we choose to view it, it just flows as it will.  As the Natives say, no tree has branches foolish enough to fight amongst themselves.  So goes this universe as well.