NONDUALITY: THE ELECTRIC LIGHT QUEEN HAS LEFT THE BUILDING YET PROVIDENCE AND KISMET HAS LED US TO A GREATER TREASURE

Identification means the said person is in the drama. The character is real and the scenes good, bad, and in-between are of paramount importance. Non-identification means that the character is still used as an important, functioning, and sane tool; - in order to navigate and negotiate the world, yet that ‘paramount’ importance is not ascribed to the character, to the ‘I’. Things still matter, and very much so. Anyone who says, ‘Nothing matters,’ or ‘It’s all the same,’ is using a kind of teaching as an excuse for laziness or is misunderstanding. Well, what is the difference between the Identified person and the ‘shifted’ or ‘changed’ person? In the former there is no room or space, - only mind, which is time. The latter appears from the outside the same, - but there is space, a kind of timelessness. So from this we can create to small vignettes or stories,- the first has the character as character, and the second has the character as more Source or Nothingness that character…

 

1) He went to meet the electric light queen. She was a kind of modern archetype, - American,

modern, but with high zygomatics and dark eyes as she was from the South part of the world. She actually lived with her family in a motel, and sat outside the door chain-smoking Marlboro Reds, staring into space. She dreamed of nothing much other than the chance to drop out of school as soon as possible. She was, without knowing it, a kind of existentialist girl. She would never use a term like that since she could barely read or write. A great and cool outsider. Beautiful, mysterious, tragic. They walked through the streets and visited the bridges and dive shops and listened to the sounds of the sea in the night. The whitecaps rolled up and kissed the air, flashing in the dark briefly, like a life, like quick and faraway lightning you think you might have seen. But one day, in such a lightning storm for real, - she entered a long white car, a Lincoln, and had to leave forever. The boy, like Romeo or some character from something, - walked the streets for weeks. He did not notice anything at all, so grief laden he was. Finally he climbed the tall gates to the pier, and in the middle of night, at the very end, - threw himself into the waters, and never returned to the world again. The electric light queen, not really being as soulful as at first thought, - did not sense his death, and nor would she have cared too much. She was on a new porch, smoking new cigarettes, staring into a new night.

2) On walkways and intercostals streets cleaned and glistening from overnight rain and the morning sun they strolled. The queen, short, calm, dreamy, there but always faraway, - held his hand. The sun, electric itself, seemed, against logic,- to make the grasses grow, to supply the local vessels of the sea with the energy to glide along in their travels, and to perhaps even teach the birds to sing. But the queen had to leave, - and leave she did. He called for her, - but she had gone- in the middle of everything. Though he felt the absence of her presence or the presence of her absence, - the rest of the day as it were, - called out a beauty and wonder greater than the electric light queen. He saw the light upon the pastel stucco walls, and the feral bushes reach over long wonderful parapets that watched somehow the sea. And the sea itself, - wave and cargo ship, exotic bird diving down through the water-top, sky and cloud and infinity above. One hundred small rooftops and signs, and each one soulful, interesting. The salt air, the neon things, the sand and how it travelled on clothing and air, by wind and also as if through magic, - to everywhere inland. Grains like golden treasures. The sound of the sea from North and South, like music. He thought of it then as The Stereo Sea. The queen had been nowhere and was nowhere. Or, what she represented had been borne and found, blossomed and bloomed together, - inside and about all things. 

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