Inner Meaning

 Mom is not okay, but this is a relative statement, and I am only referring to the old machine I have always been very familiar with. As for her soul—and I do not equate this with the body—she seems better than ever to me. I feel very certain that her departure is imminent. I will certainly miss my mom, but I am certain, beyond all doubt, that I will still have her.

It would be shameful to suggest that my mother is a figment of my personal imagination, but it is something like that. This does not mean that I devalue the person I am referring to; it really only means that the real value of her existence is not found within her story as it is with The Actor—the essence of Mom.

I do not tell myself these lies in order to feel okay about the death of my mom; I remind myself of these truths as a way of understanding all relationships.

I usually have to think of things metaphorically, but that still does not mean that I am not thinking clearly. A metaphor is a myth, and both of these terms tend to be misunderstood and categorized as fiction. A myth is a parable. Most of life’s deepest truths can only be revealed by shallower explanations.

I heard Alan Watts brilliantly explain how this works, and he used electricity as an example. He explained that electricity is not exactly like water, but water is often used as a metaphor to explain the most basic tenets regarding electricity. Even as I type, we’ve yet to find a better word than current to discuss the flow of electricity; but it is not exactly the same as the current of a river, and it does not flow in exactly the same way water flows.

Some of the most interesting thoughts we will ever entertain will begin with, “It is like…”

Whenever you hear an explanation begin this way, everything that follows may be very interesting—and it may be necessary for you to use your imagination to fully appreciate the comparisons being made.

I have explained many difficult situations by setting up the narrative with, “It is like…” and as I begin the further explanation, I have heard responses like, “Ah yes, I see.” Or even, “Say no more; I get it.”

In many cases—if not most—the very words you will draw upon for your myths will contain the very clues you mean to convey. I think this is exactly why Owen Barfield got completely sidetracked by “the evolution of consciousness” and the history of English words.

Mark Vernon put it this way:

“Barfield discovered that in earlier times, words tended to carry meanings which spoke of outer and inner realities that are woven together. Then, in more recent times, the use of words shows that these two dimensions of existence have tended to split apart.”
~ Mark Vernon, Owen Barfield and the Power of Words, published Oct 28, 2019, by Mark Vernon.

I once heard a lecturer say that if you wanted to study the history of any region on earth, you should consider the names of the towns and all of the names of the roads; this usually reveals some deeper truths about the settlements.

It may be obvious, but I will say this anyway: the names of the roads in a region will not tell the story of that region unless one decides to dig deeper to discover why a road was given a certain name.

In the same way, the words we use to discuss “inner and outer” realities won’t tell the deeper meanings without further investigation.

A simple example can be seen earlier in this essay, where I used the word relationships.

I appreciate relationships with others more than I ever have—but what is a relationship? Borrowing from the term itself, I could say that it denotes something like a ship, on the ocean of experience, somehow approximated relative to another ship on this same, vast ocean. Relative-ship or relationship.

And the entire essay could be treated as a metaphor or a myth—which could also be considered the truth about what it is like to have a relationship and what that means.

In fact, it would not be difficult to stick with the term ship and simply run with that. I could talk about relationships, friendships, fellowships—and the list could go on. At some point, it might be necessary to say, “It is like there are ships…”

You could literally write a book on the many “ships” afloat on life’s ocean of experience. You could have a chapter on leadership, one on apprenticeship, one on citizenship, and one on companionship. There are still several other words to explore and flesh out metaphorically.

This is probably one of the simplest examples of the inner and outer realities Vernon mentioned in the quote above.

I heard Mom sing an older gospel song when I was younger; perhaps the chorus means more to me today than ever. I can still hear her sing:

“I'm gonna take a trip in the old gospel ship,
Going far beyond the sky.
I'm gonna shout and sing till heaven rings,
When I bid this world goodbye.”
— The Old Gospel Ship, attributed to A.P. Carter, likely taken from earlier Appalachian lyrics.

Mom is dying—not literally boarding a ship—but it is like that.