[Continue]

Me and ego —— do they actually exist?

One hand is a claw, and the other hand is likewise also a claw; whereas hand-shape, hand-gesture, hand-claw, beckon a hand, beckoning a hand, wave a hand, and waving a hand have all never existed and never will exist, any claw, front claw, claw of the forelimb, pair of claws, left and right claws, a claw with both fingertips and nails, an elegant claw, a dexterous claw, a sagacious claw, a complete claw, a well-equipped claw, a perfect claw,  a thoughtful claw, an impulsive claw, a passionate claw, a vivid claw, a vibrant claw, an enthusiastic claw, a persistent claw, a hopeful claw, an idea-embracing claw, a claw full of deep affection, a claw engraved with cherished love, an intelligent claw, a  rational claw, a talented claw —— can never grasp pain —— nor can they ever grasp sheerness—and most certainly not can they ever grasp existence. As shown in the figure below.

Existence that is grasped —— that is, pain that is grasped —— still remains the echoes of life.

Only the echoes of life can give existence to the hand, and only it can give existence to both me and ego.

A grasping hand is not a claw, nor is the claw a grasping hand.

A grasping hand cannot be like a claw, nor can the claw be like a grasping hand.

A grasping hand shall not to resemble the claw, nor shall the claw to resemble a grasping hand.

A grasping hand will not be like the claw, nor will the claw be like a grasping hand.

Why is it that only the claw, the foreclaw, the claw of the forelimb of sapiens is revered as a hand?

Why did ancient laws grant some sapiens hands without claws —— whilst condemning other sapiens with claws deprived of hands —— and impose the punishment of claw-chopping upon tens of thousands of sapiens accused of littering or theft —— and go so far as to prevent millions of sapiens from ‘grasping a pen with their claws’, ‘scraping salt with their claws’, digging iron with their claws’—and even going as far as to never ever recognized that the ‘pairs of claws’ possessed by certain embryos or infants were in fact hands?

Could it be that my deep love for chess in the past —— in actual fact, was my claws utterly captivated by a clawing conundrum where the opening moves are limited onwards yet the endgame is infinitely intricate?

Could it be that I once practiced my tennis racquet swing with such dedication —— that my claws passionately shaped a clawing boundary where serves are bounded yet returns are boundless?

Could it be that piece of music —— harboring an inexplicable impulse —— I once played over and over again on a second-hand piano —— in actual fact, was  my claws repeatedly probing within a second-hand structure in search of a clawing pattern concealing a non-linguistic force?

Could it be that the hundreds, perhaps thousands, of handshakes I’ve shared with ‘Chiang-Chiang' (a six-year-old Husky) were nothing more than a series of ‘paw-shakes’ or 'claw-shakes'—— devoid of structure, blurred in subjectivity, and romanticized by the ‘illusion of language’? He cannot speak, nor does he recognize words; he possesses no recognized rationality or intelligence, yet it knows full well —— that it is a neutered ‘pet dog’—— and that I am his owner who issues commands and metes out rewards and punishments —— his outstretched paw is merely to fulfil the act of ‘paw-shaking’—— and my repeated ‘outstretched claw’ is merely a constant beautification of his outstretched paw into a ‘handshake’ of mutual trust; he trusts me, trusts my scent, my voice and my gaze, trusts my footsteps, my running posture and my silhouette, and trusts even more that I will extend my claws to it at any time and in any place; yet he never trusts —— that my 'outstretched claw' is ‘extending a hand’ —— that my ‘grasping of his paw’ is ‘shaking hands’ —— that my ‘releasing of his paw’ is ‘letting go of the hand’—— my ‘clapping of the paws’ is ‘clapping of the hands’ —— my ‘grasping of the paws’ is ‘grasping of the hands’—— my ‘two claws’ are ‘two hands’; I, too, trust him, trust his sense of smell —— that sense of smell, never trained, yet able to pinpoint me hidden in the tree trunk, and trust his hearing —— that sense of hearing, never trained, yet able to precisely understand my whistle calling him to ‘return to the pack’ from a hundred meters away in the grass field; and I trust his sense of taste —— that sense of taste, never cultivated, yet able to precisely recall how, ten thousand years ago, a Siberian husky repeatedly seized salmon from an ice hole; and I trust his twelve incisors and four canines —— that ‘sharpness’ which had never been taught, yet could wait with precision for my ‘fingers’ to touch the sides of its mouth and the tips of its teeth time and again, before leaving all its whiskers (that is, ‘sensory hairs’) unscathed…

Even if every single one of ‘Chiang-Chiang' whiskers were like a slender, sensitive ‘hand’; even if his black nose and long, wide mouth were like ‘hands’ naturally endowed with extraordinary powers; even if his ears —— which often stand erect like poplars, at times quivering like leather wings, and occasionally droops like a rug —— all resemble ‘hands’ capable of expressing senses and perceptions, thoughts, or emotions at every second of every minute; even his tail —— it’s true form concealed by layers of thick grey fur, its tip faintly dotted with a few strands of white fur, and its sixteen premolars occasionally clamping down fiercely on the ‘spinal nerve network’—— still bears a striking resemblance to a ‘hand’ that both grasps and releases joy, anger, sorrow and delight, whilst simultaneously suppressing pain and grief; even its two forepaws —— each with five toes, a wrist bone, a metacarpal bone, a phalanx, and five claws —— resemble hands that can extend and retract, grasp and release, scratch and pick, dig and scrape, push and embrace, pounce and block, resolutely carry out “ideas”, steadfastly follow “impulses”, tenaciously realize “passion”, rock-solidly see “vitality” and “vividness” through to the end, uphold “love” and “commitment”, indestructibly defend “existence” with “sheerness” in any circumstance, confront any “silence”, resist any “immutability”, capable of resisting any ‘impossibility’, capable of picking apart and shredding any ‘pain’ at any time and in any place, capable of using retreat to shield ‘vulnerability’, capable of using attack to dig through ‘perplexity, capable of grasping and holding onto ‘septum’s’ to strive to be seen, capable of scratching at ‘entrances and exits’ to fight for resounds, capable of retreating to a corner, capable of pushing into one dead angle after another with a ‘hand’, yet I have never believed —— that he possesses any ‘hands’ at all…

Trust is not the same as to believe…

He will eternally never be able to believe in the illusion of language.

[Unfinished. To be Continued]