Date: Wed, 2 Feb 2000 16:26:29 -0500 From: Kafka Dreams To: void Subject: blistering papercuttery with a lemon juice chaser No amount of thoughtful consideration prepares you... No contemplation of your smallest habits enlightens you... No recognition of your private rituals apprises you... ...of how much you use a particular millimeter of flesh or fingernail until after you have abraded, sliced, shorn, burned or otherwise infected it. Once wounded, you discover exactly how you tend to squeeze a lime quarter into your drink or put salt on your food or lean on a table or lower yourself onto the toilet or apply astringent or crack your knuckles or sit angled to one side or press or rub or wash or scratch or reach or stretch or bend yourself. You discover that even if there is another way to do something, it's hard to train yourself into it, despite the pain as a motivator. Then and ONLY then, do you truly recognize the value of and specific uses for that little bit of your body. The same is true of muscles and muscle-strains, connective tissues and joint torsion, your entire digestive tract and that plate o'food, etc. But, although each bit of pain is illuminating, the memory of it fades like a flare and is, if not forgotten, gone from the immediacy of experience. Thus, within these constructed reality boundaries, I imagine the final enlightenment is death. And therefore, the best argument for an afterlife is appreciation.