Those in our midst who grasp
engine wiring are few. Sadly they are recalcitrant, they resort to
complexity in language, incomprehensible diagrammatic form, and are prone
to sneering. Therefore it becomes necessary to proceed as an
explorer might. To go boldly and un-mentored into dark places.
I can put my mind into the wires and follow them as though they were
streams. I can paddle a canoe, portage over switches and come away
with a map. But synapses and sparks that comprise my own wiring
flounder, and when I return downstream I get miserably lost, and
frustrated, and prone to that sense of an end time closer than I would
like it to be.
Up there in the brain the dust of routine
has clearly gathered. So better to conceive of engine wiring as a
gymnasium in which mental agility is practiced. Otherwise quite soon I
will indeed be mumbling and fogged. A condition I often thought of as
belonging to the state of blissfulness.
However, having paddled along these
wires in a canoe, I have now actually experienced the condition of mumbling
and fogged and I have concluded acceptance is a truer precursor to
blissfulness. So when my own time does eventually run its course I
will recall acceptance as my paddle, and will take with me a picture of a
canoe in case I forget what a paddle is.