Neo: I suppose the most obvious question is, how can I trust you?
The Oracle: Bingo. It is a pickle. No doubt about it. The bad news is there’s no way if you can really know whether I’m here to help you or not, so it’s really up to you. You just have to make up your own damned mind to either accept what I’m going to tell you, or reject it.
I am not totally sure about my ideas about heaven or hell or reincarnation or the whole afterlife situation, but I have this recurring fantasy that somehow, perhaps in the transition from one unknown place to another, there will be some moment where all will be revealed.I find it somehow reassuring when I hold it up against the growing number of unknowns that float around in my mind. I have heard that the more you learn the more you realize you don’t know, perhaps that is true and perhaps that is why I feel like the Cold Case files in my brain are getting pretty full.
Of course it could just be that I want what Carl Spackler’s got coming to him:
I have not ever imagined the details of this fantastic mental voyage, like if it will be some giant Oz-like head in the sky dispensing long lost gems of personal curiosity; or perhaps it will be the world’s largest 8-ball just waiting for me to “concentrate harder” to get my requested reply. I hope it is not a Ouija Board; too much work involved there and I still think my friends always cheated when consulted that oracle. Or could it involve a trip to Delphi to consult with Pythia? That would be nice. Maybe it is a list; that would make me very happy – a nice big list with answers to all the questions I have saved up in life. Questions like:
- How did Oswald make it happen?
- What is the deal with the Bog People?
- What was Roxelana‘s secret?
- Where the hell IS Jimmy Hoffa?
- What happened to the Maya, anyhow?
- On that note, what happened to the Americans, anyhow?
- Who thought Elizabeth Berkley could act?
- What happened to Marilyn?
- Who thought this was a good look?
- Is the truth out there?
- Can we handle the truth?
And then there are some other mysteries a little closer to home that I have been wondering about… Most of them to do with the strange oddities of the interwebs. Or of cat behavior. And interpersonal crap, which I fear may always confound me. For instance:
- How can my cat sit and stare at a mouse for six hours and I cannot meditate for 15 minutes?
- How is it possible that someone I met in Hong Kong is FB friends with the girlfriend of someone I know from Penngrove, CA?
- Weirder still, one of my best blog friends is Twitter/actual friends with someone who it turns out is Twitter friends with the declared BFF of the individual who found me on my blog earlier in the year and then stood me up in SF after I flew long haul to be there specifically for said meet up. Is that weird or just how it goes in the world today?
- How is it that two of the three super expensive Pagani Zanda F’s that have crashed met their end in Hong Kong? – Oh, wait, I know the answer to that one.
- Why is it never amyloidosis, sarcoidosis or lupus?
- Will we get all the answers to the great mysteries of our personal dramas? Will we know why people lie? Will we care? Will we even know if the answers we are getting are real and true? And would it matter if they were or not?
There is a proverb that says: The more you know, the less you understand. Perhaps in this way our ignorance can be considered bliss. On the other hand the Aborigines say the more you know, the less you need. That is more like what I was thinking. Still,at this point it all remains a big conundrum for me, though unlikely one I will lose to much sleep over.
But if Norman is still staring at that mouse when I get home I am going to want some answers.