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I don’t read a lot of fiction, save for the literary candy of a good mystery or one of the masters of SF. My reading–actual decoding of shapes on a page–has for many years been in the realm of philosophy and its bumpkin cousin spirituality. I am fascinated by the nature of consciousness and its need–its obsession–with finding meaning and order where none actually exist.

Everyone from Dawkins to Bohm would contend that is mind’s purpose–hard-wired to see order. And from that attempt to derive meaning. Is that part of the purpose, or part of the problem?

My travels of late return me to my roots: Good ol’ Buddhism. A concept known as the Hungry Ghost.

Hungry Ghosts on cellphone and laptop.
Sipping ventis and Facebooking importantly.

Hungry ghosts tapping controllers and iPods,
Living prepared fantasies far removed,
Well orchestrated.

Hungry ghosts reading Bibles and
Burning candles reverently seeing shapes
In the empty empty.

Yes sweets, god is another trinket
In the marketplace.
Another waste of the Here and Now.
Do you have nothing better to do?

Me neither, which might be the point.

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