So the other day, my friend Matthew and I, with eyes wide, and foggy brained, discussed the all, standing in the sun, as I ignored my work duties. Matt is a bearded fellow with bright ideas and a strong belief in "the sacred herb." My belief in the same herb is not so faithful, as things get cloudy after awhile in the high hills of my dome. But on this occasion, Matt brought me back to the sunny heights with talk of Rasta and the interconnectedness of all. He brought it home again, for a moment, as I expressed my frustration with the great load of meaning and non-meaning in this age of lost innocence and the Death of the American Dream. As I struggled to keep some connection to some higher meaning outside the pipe, old Matt explained that we are simply the eyes of God witnessing our own creation. God, he told me, the creator, had no way of observing the creation; and here we are, the observers of the earth, separated from pure being by our questioning minds. In the midst of consequences of 1000's of years of our own inventions, it is becoming increasingly obvious that eating of the tree of knowledge may really have been a terrible idea. Now we are stuck in information overload. Knowledge is meaningless now, because too much information finally led us back to relativity, which took the wind out of our choice to be. Not to be seems far easier amidst the guilt of the Tipping Point. Man has become the weapon of vengeance upon ourselves and our garden, which God never was. So according to my estimation of the meaning of Matt, we are witnessing the imperfection of the creator, through the obviousness of our own imperfection. The Creator couldn't see itself, so we came to see it for her; and so to observe our own imperfection, as the masters of this planet, is also to see the imperfection of the creation of God. We ate the apple didn't we? Of course we did. So did the creator see its own reflection through us? Life and Death, life and death, life and death, is less than perfection. Existence is life and death, molecules popping in and out of existence. Maybe we don't die "over there," but we are stuck in the observation of over here, and are totally attached to this. We have yet to comprehend the unknown, we only whistle and pretend. The unknown is where we understand the powerlessness of creation. Does the Creator really have any power beyond what has been created? Our mistakes seem to be evidence that we are the acting creators. Our power over our own existence in the choices we make, seems to indicate that our power is intact, but we cannot escape our role as observers. We are the judges, and we stand before the judgment of ourselves. The creator must be experiencing its own powerlessness as it watches us spiral into our own destruction. The human being has become a force of nature, changing the face of the earth as we act in consciousness unlike the unthinking hurricane or earthquake. I was hip to the experience of feeling like the eyes of God observing its own imperfection in my own dissatisfaction with reality. We are coming up on 7 billion pairs of eyes here on earth to observe with. Come in Honolulu! We still can't seem to see a goddamn thing, so stuck are we on our individuality. But we are the same eyes, looking out at each other as if we are separate. Maybe that is how God feels. Looking out on the world that it created, powerless over its imperfection, and lonely because existence seems incapable of looking back into the eyes of itself to admit that there is no separation. I'm hungry, anyone for a taco?