I wonder whether our attempts to understand existence, the Divine, “All-that-is” run into trouble because of how we go about it. We divide things. We name the pieces. Then we examine each piece and hope the whole will eventually explain itself.
Consider a frog. We can dissect it and learn a great deal about its anatomy. But the parts on the table are no longer the living frog. Something essential to our inquiry has disappeared during the investigation. The frog might have preferred a less thorough interview.
Frog parts indeed matter. They reveal how the organism works. Yet the living frog needs those parts acting together, responding to its surroundings, participating in a world. Knowing its interior is only part of knowing its life.
Do we encounter a similar problem using the same approach trying to understand “All-that-is.” We divide existence into manageable subjects. Matter. Energy. Life. Consciousness. We certainly need these distinctions to investigate anything. But do these categories actually describe real components, or boundaries we delineate to help ourselves think?
Then another thought occurs to me. The person doing the examining belongs within the very existence being examined. We have no viewing platform outside “All-that-is.” Wherever we stand, we are still within it.
Maybe our knowing is itself something the Divine is doing.
I find that possibility compelling. Through self-exploration, we may be encountering “All-that-is” from within. An insider’s perspective. Up close and personal. We experience awareness, love, fear, and longing. We can even notice ourselves noticing. Apparently, “All-that-is” has developed a rather persistent habit of asking questions about itself.
The “examined life” takes on another dimension here. Alongside thinking about life, we can pay attention to living it. What happens when I become quiet? What do I discover beneath my rehearsed explanations? What becomes visible when I stop insisting that every experience arrive with a definition?
This is part of what draws me to quiet prayer and meditation. I remain interested in ideas, but I also want to become acquainted with what the ideas are trying to describe.
Of course, an insider’s perspective is still a limited perspective. Looking within does not make every impression a revelation. My fears, habits, and preferences come along for the visit. Humility remains useful company.
And here we encounter the familiar difficulty again: the finite attempting to fully understand the infinite. We reach for words shaped by limited experience and ask them to describe what may exceed every boundary we know.
Even “All-that-is” is a phrase. It gestures toward wholeness without placing wholeness inside my understanding. Calling something ineffable does not stop me from discussing it, apparently. It merely makes the conversation a little more honest.
It’s likely a complete explanation is an impossible claim. We can still learn. We can question our assumptions. We can grow in understanding without expecting understanding to become complete.
Anyway, I will never find language adequate to define the Divine. But I can give attention. I can love. I can become more present to the life in which I already participate.
For now, that seems a worthwhile way to spend a finite afternoon.
