The Sublime In The Age of Technological Mania

The sublime, the unvarnished pearl at the center of isness,
speaks a thousand tongues, and moves a thousand feet.
And more. Incalculable are the feats of the sublime.
Not even the most astute and intrepid calculator
in the world can possibly find the sum of them all.

The sublime is the multitudinous ambrosia that covers what is,
all the colors in the coral reef of consciousness.
And now it is lost.
Lost in the stately architecture, the dead streets,
the violence of broken minds,
and the socio-political world of machinations and
industry-bred fear.
The sublime is lost in the convolutions of the contemporary.
Alas, we don't even know what we've lost.

"Ignore the sublime, follow the despotic leader," intones
the divisive collective spirit-engine.
"But most importantly, remain stalwart and complacent with
your technologies.
Text you neighbors and friends.
Phone people all the time.
Sit in front of the TV until it turns to static.
Love the profusion of products at your fingertips.
Love the God of Industry, vilify the Goddess of the Sensuous.
Die a slave to technology.
Die not knowing."

A temporal truth:

This is the Age of Technological Mania.
Everyone follows the doctrine of endless distractions.
The sacred has lost all meaning.
The sublime has been buried deep beneath the dross
existence of the "rational monkey".

The ultimate truth:

In reality, nothing has been lost, nothing has been gained.
The sublime has always slithered to and fro across the
sands of time.
When this technological mania dies down, it will appear
once again like it never left.
And happiness will reign.
And the gods will rejoice.