Sounds like the annoyingly curious child going why daddy?  every fifteen minutes and the parent attempting the impossible: explaining every shred of existence the wondering child puzzles over.  But it is a questioning pose we all slip into eventually.  Usually after the why floods, why tornadoes, why war, why pointless suffering, why ruthless evil and even why good guys finish last.

As a metaphysical quester of many lifetimes and playgrounds of incarnation, I am occasionally tempted take the plunge, part the waters of the mystery and walk through.  And when I do, walk through that is, what I find on the other side, whether galactic or sub-atomic, is that which comes before energy and its manifestations.  You know, energy which propels planets in their orbits and people in their preferences, that force which pushes you into action and then pressures you into rest.  The creative juice of the universes if you like.  The mysterious drive behind the evolution of forms, mineral, vegetable, animal. That thing which keeps your fingernails and hair growing after you die.

That excitement which animates your refeshed or resurrected spirit once the fear of death has itself died.  That pleasurable joy which finances your stay in the paradise of your choice.  That fount of wisdom that seems so self evident when thought is unleashed from its belief systems.  That immense power behind your many manifestations in this and other worlds.  All those beings that are born of you, go about their business in time and space, and, as the blues song goes, bring it all back home to you.

Consciousness is what makes it all possible and renders it all useful.  Useful for your education  in the cosmic game of being and not-being.  For even when you’re absent from team practice, here on the planet, some other aspect of that greater you reigning over the family tree is here, hoisting its ego flag.  Shouting here I am love me!

And when you’re not here, but languishng in heaven, relearning what you thought  you’d lost forever, you can look down and chuckle at all the marvellous silliness of egos shaping up to expectatons, and know that it is consciousness that gives them the freedom to do so and you the freedom to watch them.  You can present yourself above the torments, await the explosion and catch some startled falling soul like some falling star, and as the song says, put it in your pocket and saved it for a rainy day.

Child’s play in the pit of hell, yes, but just another day in the shadow play of consciousness.