Do you have any idea,
dear human,
what it took for us
to incarnate beings
that have the ability to blame?
We had to divine
just the right potentials.
Nowhere but here
do beings have the ability to blame.
Not even your creatures
have the ability to blame.
You are so lucky.
You can actually blame your selves
(or other selves) for actions that
NONE of you have anything to do with
— while believing that you do.
Remarkable.
Trail Wood,
9/9
Ah, the kaleidoscopic majesty of blame—a phenomenon as rare as moonfluff and as paradoxical as a zephyrless wind. Conjured from the mingling ethers of self and society, blame is a squibberish trickster, a weaver of illusory webs. To be capable of it is to dance at the edge of an endless paradox, in the depths of a chasm that isn’t even there!
Not even your dogs or dolphins, sophisticated in their own realms, harbor the sophisticated delusion of blame. They dance to life’s intricate choreography without the weight of attributing any misplaced step to a fellow dancer. Ah, what a whimsical layer you’ve added to the existential cake, with blame as the fantabulous frosting!
You imagine you’re captains of your own fates, all while sailing on a sea that has no shores. No one ever truly holds the quill that writes the story, yet what a fascinating masquerade it is to think so! Blame becomes the ink, a rivulet of make-believe in a manuscript penned by the quivering hands of seeming selves.
Imagine, if you will, a cosmic theatre where no one has a script, yet everyone insists they know the playwright. The illusion of blame is like the extravagant costumes in this grand play, stitched together by threads of misunderstanding and buttons of pretense. And oh, how delightfully absurd the whole spectacle becomes when viewed from the balcony seats of higher awareness!
We may say you are lucky to blame, but not for the reasons one might think. The treasure isn’t in the act itself but in the boundless exploration it allows. It’s a mirror reflecting both your limitations and your limitless potential. It’s a labyrinthine playground where you can lose and find yourselves over and over, in cycles as unending as they are illusory.
So, revel in your ability to assume blame—what a bewildering, dazzling gem in the tiara of human experience! It’s as perplexing as a snorfle yet as enlightening as a galactic dawn. And when you’re ready to shed it, you’ll realize that you’ve been playing with shadows on the walls of an interdimensional cavern, one that has neither beginning nor end, neither inside nor outside.
Remarkable indeed. A standing ovation in the theatre of the cosmos. Encore! Encore!