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The next morning, they were off again, traveling along the valley towards the west, towards the
mountains that so attracted Duncan. He was eager to get there and find out what this Tao that the
elders of the clan had spoken about really did involve.
They traveled mostly in silence, Pico perched up on Duncan’s shoulders and hanging on to the
scruff of his neck. Duncan’s long velvety hair of black mixed with some gray made for an ideal
seat for young Pico. He was somewhat camouflaged within the duff and yet had a grand view of
the surroundings - why, this was great fun indeed, he told Duncan. And it was easy to hold on,
and not even too bouncy either - not like when they had escaped the bipeds, running wildly
through the woods.
After the morning’s trek, they settled down to some lunch of wild edibles, then dozed off in a
sunny little clearing along the brook they had been following.
Suddenly, Duncan was awakened by a commotion some distance away - the birds were screeching
and he could sense everything tense around him. And he realized Pico was not there beside him.
He jumped to his feet and scrambled off towards the noise, dashing through the underbrush,
careless of the tall ferns and small branches in his way.
He emerged in an opening near a little pool of water and stopped short. There on the other side
was a great tufted bobcat that had turned toward him and stared him straight in the eyes with a
menacing look on its face. It held Pico in its mouth, the mouse being as limp as a dead leaf and
showing not a trifle sign of life.
Duncan did not hesitate. He charged the big cat with a series of bounds and a belching of barking
that sounded ominous indeed. Unaccustomed to such direct challenge, the bobcat had no sway
but to drop his prey and spring back out of the way, preparing for a fight in fending off this mad
dog. But just as Duncan was nearly on him, he deftly turned to his left and jumped into an
opening between two young birches. He had decided to take off, it seems, despite his pride, rather
than face the uncertainty of battle with such a gruff and menacing beast.
Duncan did not pursue the big cat. He had scared him off and that was enough. A previous
encounter with a large cat had taught him to respect the claws of these beasts. He may be more
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powerful, but still, having to delicately tend to open cuts and gashes after a fight was far from
enjoyable, not to mention the risk of the wounds turning to open sores.
He hovered there over Pico while making certain the cat had indeed gone his way and would not
be pouncing back on him from another direction. Then he felt Pico move, oh just so slightly,
against his right front paw. Pico was reviving. There was no blood on his fur - a good sign, given
he had been caught in the bobcat’s canines.
Indeed, his little heart was beating furiously, now that he recalled the dear predicament he had
been in. But at the same time, he was so happy to have Duncan now protecting him. He grabbed
Duncan’s ankle and just held on.
- There, there, my little friend, it’s all right now. The cat is gone.
- I must have fainted. Yes, I guess that’s it. Oh, it was so horrible, Duncan. That big cat pounced
on me out of the blue and I could smell its breath, it’s awful breath engulfing me. And then
nothing. Oh, I’m so grateful, Duncan. You saved my life.
That was indeed the case, for Pico would have been dinner to a bobcat had not Duncan boldly
charged the beast once he saw Pico in its jaws.
- Ok, Pico, let’s get out of here. Climb up on my neck and let’s get going.
He lowered his front end to the ground to make it easy for Pico to clamber up to his perch, which
he did with vigor even though he was still shaky from his near-death encounter with the cat. They
rambled back to the clearing where they had first rested and sat around for a while, recounting the
event and regaining their spirits.
Soon, though, they were off again and traveled through the late afternoon before reaching the side
of a small lake where they decided to stop for the night. They found a cozy place under a big set
of broad trees and settled in for the evening.
- You see, Pico, death is an unimportant aspect of being, once you think about it.
- Oh you brute! How can you say that? After what I have just been through...
- Yes, yes, I know. It’s been a trying time for all of us, including the beast! The natural impulse of
life is a strong one... and that’s why the beast wanted to chew you up - his stomach is growling.
He needed to kill you.
- And me?
- Yes, you too - your impulse was also for preservation, to keep on living. That’s just nature, just
how instinct flows, orienting our actions as it does. The life force is a very primal one - for us
living beings, that is.
- And I am very glad of it too.
- Of course my little friend. But that’s all it is...
- All it is! Well that’s enough too, isn’t it? After all, who wants to die?
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- Ah, but have you considered that we must all die one day, every single one of us? So, let me ask
you this - what difference does it make when we die? Whether I die as an old dog or a young dog,
does it change anything?
- Ha, but you are already old, Duncan! You can’t die young anymore!
- Oh you rascal! You know what I mean.
- Sure. Yes... short life or long life, it’s neither here nor there, right? And if it’s just instinct
keeping us alive, well...
- Oh, the life force is a complex one. Our basic goal in life is to be happy, right?
- Right, to have fun and be merry.
- Well, I don’t know about the fun part, but to be merry, to be happy, yes, that’s our fundamental
aim in life. It’s why we live. But again, that’s just an instinct, a built-in biological mechanism that
makes us avoid pain and suffering and seek satiation of our needs and that state of happiness that
goes along with it.
- But Duncan... there’s got to be more to it than that. Am I just a living robot?
- Well, what about that stone there, the big red one at your feet? What’s its purpose in life? So to
speak, since it has no life. What is its purpose? Why is it there?
- I don’t know, Duncan.
- Nor do I. And that’s why I have joined the quest - I’m trying to figure it out. We and the stone
are very similar in this fundamental part of being. We just exist. Even though we exist each in our
own way, in our own context of being, there is nothing special in us living beings, now is there?
- Well, what about the afterlife, what about our destiny?
- Just a fairy-story. Wishful-thinking will do wonders to fill in any moments of distress and return
a certain sense of happiness. So we invent a nice fairy tale in which we might just live happily ever
after, either in this life or another.
- But Duncan, so many believe in the afterlife.
- Oh yes, it is a very strong factor in the psychology of being. Hard to resist that siren call of
everlasting happiness. Plus, it’s a terrific social mechanism to somewhat regulate action, to help
curb individual desires that are socially unproductive. But that’s another story altogether - we can
consider that some other time.
- Yes, I’m not so sure about the afterlife, really. Some believe in going to a heavenly place of bliss,
others in being reborn in a better state of being higher up the hierarchy, others in attaining a
mental state of enlightened bliss, all very airy-fairy.
- Yes, and yet, we are all pulled towards it, towards that something that will render us happy at
last. I mean fully happy and on a permanent basis, at least while our life lasts. After that, poof.
- Poof?
- Yep, Pico, poof... nothing. We want to understand the world because we figure it will help us be
happy. All the better to harmonize with it, right? But yet, we must do it in this lifetime, whatever
is left of it. Now or never, right?
- I guess so. I just realized that I have only so long to live. I have already spent a good portion of
my life doing this and that, seeking happiness in a rather haphazard way, really. No disciplined
search for solid happiness that can perdure across life’s vicissitudes and challenges. And every day
that goes by means one less day in the time I have remaining.
- True, Pico. But then, as we were saying earlier, a long life doesn’t mean a happier one. You
can’t cumulate it like some amass gold. Every moment flitters on.
- Aye, Duncan, you’re getting me worried. What’s the meaning of this then?
- Well, my friend, that’s what we are searching for, isn’t it? That’s why we need to figure out what
this universe is all about and how it works. And what we are doing in it, right?
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- Yes, for sure. Each and every one of us.
- That’s right. Quite fundamental too. Each of us must figure it out for oneself. Remember what
we were saying yesterday. We can view the world from without, trying to be somewhat objective
about it, or from within, from that inner existential perspective.
- Right.
- Well, let’s look at that a little more closely. Being me... what’s special about that?
- OK, let’s see... Well, it’s me that’s happy or unhappy. And it’s mostly me that’s got to see to it,
it’s mostly my own doing.
- But who are you? What is that me of yours?
- Why, my consciousness, that feeling of being me, Pico the mouse, and no one else.
- Your conscious self, yes.
- Right. If I took away any one of my attributes - any of my body parts, my knowledge, my
feelings, my memories, there would still remain that sense of self. Oh I would be changed, yes, but
I would still be there as Pico, that me that was born some time ago and that now is right here
talking to you.
- Quite true, Pico. Each of us, as we become self-conscious, takes on a persona, a singular
identity. Oh, not an identity for others, not a social one, but an inner feeling identity, simply
knowing who I am, what I have going for me, what my limitations are, that I am the locus of my
own life.
- It is but a feeling then, isn’t it?
- Yes, I guess so. There is knowledge involved - self-knowledge, but it is mostly a feeling of being
in a certain state, being ok, or perhaps not doing so well just now, and so on... The feeling that
this is happening to me and not to someone else. Happening to me, old Duncan here, that very
special being, unique in all the world, and sentient too.
- Is that what you call sentience, then?
- Yes, that’s it. Simply a feeling of being... of being present in this world, in this specific context
for the moment. Ah... just being.
- ...
- Well, Pico, this is the existential side of things, the existential imperative, really. There is no
escaping from it, I can’t just walk away from it when things get bad, so I must make good.
- Pretty heavy stuff, eh?
- Yes, but on the other hand, it is life-bound. When I die, I literally disappear as a self. I go
nowhere else, no heaven or hell, nor do I roam around as a spirit, nor do I get reborn in some
other body.
- You seem pretty sure of all that, Duncan.
- Yes, I am. As sure as can be, which is never fully sure of course. The ethereality of afterlife is
ever there as a fact - no one has ever come back to report on it, you see. And the psychological
forces that favor believing in it are there plain to see, as well.
- Yes, for sure.
- Plus, it’s also quite easy to see how self-consciousness develops as one grows up. The baby has
none - it’s just a bundle of instincts. Gradually the young one develops a sense of self as memories
take shape, and an identity soon follows. The self-centeredness of immaturity gradually gives way
to a better picture of where one fits in the world, and what one can and must do in the world.
- I guess you’re right, Duncan. The individual only gradually takes on a purpose in life, figuring
out what is good and bad and directing one’s energies to what is healthy for oneself. Figuring out
that short-term pleasure must often be shunned for long-term gain. And generally forgetting about
death, which inevitably lurks in the background and which will come forth one day, some day,
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hopefully as far away as possible.
- Yes, it’s quite amazing what our minds will get up to. Our whole life is centered on our
existential being. And that’s why we strive to get a better grasp of the world - because we know
that a better understanding of the world might lead us to a better understanding of what to do, of
how to act.
- But this self-centeredness of the ego, Duncan - isn’t it rather too selfish a view of who we are?
We can be unselfish as well, you know.
- Yes, of course. But is it true selflessness? It might well be, my friend, that the truest acts of
giving are self-serving too. They might be the most refined acts of self-serving there are, although
not recognized as such, for sure. We find nobility in giving, right? We build our sense of personal
goodness and hence of personal worth out of it, don’t we?
- Well, yes...
- I don’t mean to be cynical, Pico. I’m just trying to get at the true nature of being.
- Yes, well... Ok, so we build our ego, our psychological ego. But what about our self? The me,
my body and all?
- Indeed. That is a troublesome one, I’m afraid.
- What do you mean, Duncan?
- You see, despite that strong feeling of me that we were talking about, that perceptive me that is
the subject of all the experiences I feel, well despite that, the self is very ambiguous.
- Ambiguous? How so?
- It is rather ephemeral in the end. You yourself were talking about the boundaries of the self
earlier, remember? If you loose a paw, you will still be yourself, right?
- Yes, slightly different, but still myself, the same sentient Pico as before.
- Ok, now we usually consider ourselves to be the combination of body, mind, memories, abilities
and so on that form the self, that entity that moves around as a unit and interacts with other units
in the environment.
- Right.
- Well, it’s that very cut between the self and the environment that we must question.
- How so?
- Well, consider the air you breathe.
- Ok.
- Without it, you would perish - your self would disappear.
- Yes, that’s true.
- So maybe we should consider the air we breathe as a necessary part of the self. It’s just as
necessary for survival as our heart is, or our lungs, and so on.
- Yes, I see... So that extends the boundary of the self beyond the body. It incorporates some of
the world into the self. Ah, but then, where is that to stop?
- Just so... It could go on forever. To the point that the whole world is part and parcel of the self.
- Oh boy!
- That is true union of self with the world, isn’t it? True mysticism.
- It does feel good, you know, Duncan. Makes me all cozy inside.
- Yes, that’s the aim of mysticism, I gather.
- So, we seem to be playing with the boundaries of the self, here. Flexing them and indeed, doing
away with them altogether. Is that right, Duncan?
- Yes, that’s how I see it, Pico. Everything is interrelated, inextricably connected to the rest of the
world in very certain ways.
- Everything connected to everything else?
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- No, only indirectly so. I’m directly connected to air, since I breathe it and need it. But I am not
directly connected to that rock over there. That rock and I pass in the night, so to speak, even
though we are both connected to other things, which are in turn connected to yet other things,
and so on. In the end, there is a distant connection.
- So everything is connected, although not necessarily directly.
- Right. Everything that exists, absolutely everything, flows out of the same cosmos, out of the
same natural laws of the universe. It’s all connected.
- Ok, all connected. But how I define myself is arbitrary, is that so?
- Yes. Whether you consider the air as part of your self or not is fully arbitrary. It’s a decision you
in your mind make.
- Well, it’s made for me in the way I am brought up, really.
- Yes, true. Defining the self in relation to the context is called selfing. It’s building the self,
defining the boundaries, deciding what’s inside the self and what’s outside. Realizing full well that
everything is a part of the greater whole. All the more reason to explore that whole, which is the
world.
- So how do you see the world, Duncan?
- Ah, my little friend, it’s getting late. And you must be deadly tired after a day like this one, no?
- Yes, that’s enough for a day, without a doubt.
It had become quite dark in the forest, but neither Duncan nor Pico could sleep. The stars shone
down on them through the clear sky over the lake, not a cloud to be seen in any direction.
And the stars shone on in the night, the gentle breezes lapping the little waves in the lake as the
two friends fell asleep in the deep moss under the trees.