It’s interesting to notice how most of what we call life is only experienced through the senses.
I was studying an old photo of my wife’s extended family on the bookshelf today. The men wear the butterfly collars of the era while the women have the typical hair-dos. In the background, an artificial backyard setting of a home–not theirs–provides a quintessential feel for their captured images. Smiles were presented, and the capture was preserved.
As I looked into the depth of the photo and realized that all of them have / had experienced sensory perceptions of countless measures, I thought about how the world had shaped them into what they were at that particular time. The day in that year, at that moment, and what had led them to become what they were on the surface via means of the sensory-perceived world during that time.
I doubt that any of them, as they were / are all identified as Pentecostal Christians, had ever thought about what lies beneath the waves on the surfaces of their oceans. Nothing like this allegory was likely interpreted within the book or identified within their church, especially in that era. In other words, what was really within the depth, beyond the sensory-perceived world they had lived in, other than a place called Heaven where there would be no more suffering; no more waves of emotions that approach, multiply, subside, crash, destroy, and calm. A world they only knew as a constant calamity, until the Kingdom would come in some futuristic time. It is not uncommon, for up until recently I thought nothing more than they.
Then I realized, no one knows what comes after this life. No one.
The conditioning they had experienced placed them in the butterfly-collared shirts, the floral pattern dresses and the up-dos, and their faith. The mind took its position within the lives of each one of them, and it crafted so much intricate and unique individuality within each one of them. Like all of us. I just wonder if they saw the ocean, full of its potential; brimming with provision outside of that turbulence on the surface? The question without answer?
Is the turbulence on the surface, where the calamity is the axiom, just easier to digest? Is the fear of the unknown ocean within us all a fear that keeps most content within the sensory-based crashing upon the surface? Are we afraid to take a plunge outside of the conditioning?
I suppose the observance of life is shifting away from the sensory-perceived and further into the inner Being. The conscious ocean that lies beneath the ripples we call waves, and all of their deceptive illusions. An inner place of peace, in the depths of our ocean, where a constant calm resides right now, presently, and not in a futuristic, uncertain afterlife.