The Zoo Fence
· The Sacred Riddle ·

.

There are numerous references on The Zoo Fence to the fundamental mystery of life that we sometimes call The Sacred Riddle.

Birds in a cage

As we perceive the Universe (about which, please read “The Simple Way”), if God is Infinite, as is stipulated by virtually all Teachers and traditions, then it is inescapably and logically necessary that somehow God is us. And that’s because an Infinite Being has no limits (that's what being infinite means), and so must be wholly everything everywhere always, without exception. (If there were any exceptions, or any aspect of the Universe not wholly God, then God would be only “partly infinite” or “mostly infinite”, and clearly that makes no sense.)

And yet, if God is Infinite, and somehow wholly us, then we too must be infinite. But if that's the case, why is it that we feel ourselves to be so decidedly limited (or, un-Infinite)? What's more, if God is likewise inherently Eternal and Indivisible and Blissful, as surely God must be, then why do we perceive ourselves and our lives and our world to be so evidently mortal, apparently many and, too frequently, miserable? All of that rolled together is the question we call The Sacred Riddle.

The following poem is an excerpt from “Why Is The Face In The Mirror Always Looking At Me? an epic work eternally in progress.

• A Sacred Riddle •

Suddenly,
Like a shot,
Pitch black,
Silent as a tomb,
I am upright in bed.

I hear the Voice.
It speaks my name.

There is a calling to it,
As if to say,
Yes, lad, I’m talking to you,
So, wake up, sit up, and listen.

I’m listening.

It Speaks:
“If I Am Infinite, who are you?”

Silence again.
The darkness returns.
Just me, sitting there,
In bed.

Wait a second.
Did I say, returns?
Yes, there had been Light, too.
I hadn’t noticed until now,
Remembering, writing it down.

Instantly,
The familiar doubts arise.
Had I really seen a light?
Heard words?
There’s no such thing as lights,
Much less discarnate words.
Am I nuts?
Must have been a dream.

I feel the sheet between my fingers.
Across the room, the clock glows
Four eleven.
Around the corner,
The refrigerator hums,
Endlessly defrosting. (Energy saver my foot.)
This is no dream.

At my desk,
Flashlight in hand,
I write,
“If I Am Infinite, who are you?”

Upper case letters.
Had I heard them,
Or guessed them?
Never mind, what’s written
Is written.

Uh-oh, here they come again,
Mr. and Mrs. Doubt.
We’re back!
If there had been a voice,
Not to mention a Voice,
Why didn’t the four-legged one,
Asleep in her bed beside mine,
Awaken, and bark?

Point taken.
But what if,
The Voice
Is her Master’s voice, too?
No stranger, no bark.
Not curious; elementary.

“If I Am Infinite, who are you?”

Think about it.
If there is you and me,
And one of us is infinite,
How can there be “you and me”?

If one of us is infinite,
There can’t be any one else.
There is no and in infinite,
No and and no else.
Just the infinite one.

Infinite isn’t some thing
And not another.
Infinite is infinite.
There, there are no others.
You name it,
Infinite is.

Take your pen,
A scrap of paper,
And draw, let’s say, a circle.
Label it “Infinite Being.”
Now, on the same scrap of paper,
Draw an other.
Any other.

Go on. Don’t just sit there.

Can’t be done, can it?
Infinite Being, being infinite,
Leaves no place to draw
Anything
Else!

”If I Am Infinite, who are you?”

Oh, sure, if pressed
I can answer that. Like —
You are, let’s say, God, and
I am, let’s say, me.
You create me, and
I worship You.
What’s the big deal.

But if
You Are Infinite
And if (big if)
I understand rightly what infinite is
Consider it from every angle
Contemplate its every implication
Imagine every possibility
Decipher every meaning
Up, down, back, forth,
I see
There’s no where left
For me.

I need space,
Like any tree,
In which to be.
A little time, too,
Would be nice.

But if
You Are Infinite
You’re already occupying
All the space
All the time
There is.
Leaving not so much as a microsite
For me.

And yet,
Clearly, I am here.
I touch my dog, and can feel her,
I touch this paper,
The desk, the chair,
And feel them.
Touching proves me.
Tango, ergo sum.

But if, once again,
You Are Infinite,
Then …
Who’s touching
Who’s feeling
Who’s Sum?

“If I Am Infinite, who are you?”

It’s a nasty riddle
You lay upon me
This dark and blessed morn.

Once asked, it must be solved.
But once solved,
There is no thing left.
A salt doll strolls into the ocean,
Never to emerge again.

The sun rises.
I release the pen.
The four-legged one, now awake,
Tail wagging,
“Let’s go out.”

Okay, I wonder,
If You Are Infinite,
Who’s my dog.

dogface

Top

Please read our disclaimer.
For Copyright © & Trademark ™ information,
please click here.