I am using the language of Owen Barfield, the classics scholar, recently departed. I know of no one else who saw the big picture quite as clearly as did he. Yet, and this is most significant, his writings gave no indication that we could do anything about it, personally. He was no Aquanaut. You would not have found him stalking politicians, or consorting with spooks. No, no, no! But I digress.

Original participation is where everything just is, no questions asked. Myself and the rock are all part of one thing, no big difference, except that I get around faster. Thought begins with difference, that is analysis. Suddenly the rock is unknowable. The only thing I can know of it are the electrical pulses in my brain that somehow create an impression of it.

Now this is an odd thought, indeed. This is an incredible example of truncated thinking. By what means am I acquainted with those electrical pulses? How can I know them any better than I know the rock? Neuroscience is an exclusive club of people who train and cajole themselves into somehow managing never to ask that question. Quite a feat. When I go to Johns Hopkins to ask that question, I do so only under the threat of being arrested on sight. Crazy world, this. It is fun if you like intrigue, but even that becomes childish.

Back to the rock. The rock and I are all of the same stuff, and I don't mean atoms swerving in the dark. We are the light. There is just light and its (non)absence, and this is not photons, either. This is the light(ness) of being one, and knowing it as one. This is the final participation, of which the administrators at John's Hopkins are so fearful, and surely with some cause.

I know the rock, but does the rock know me? Not exactly. Not the rock I just kicked. But rockness and I-ness are ultimately inseparable. One could not possibly exist apart from the other. Subject and object are dim reflections of the one light of all knowing -- the unobstructed universe.

These are not original thoughts. Heck no. But the impending eschaton of final participation will be originary. It will be our final commencement.

If the rock and I are one, then the big bang cosmology is an inversion of the future eschaton. This is a joke, that University administrators find less than amusing. The big bang is in our heads. So are dinosaurs and their fossils. Barney is actually more real than his alleged ancestors. But surely we did not invent dinosaurs. True. There is an internal logic to dinosaurs and all that. Those seeds were planted in the garden of logic, and we are the gardeners. We lay down in the bed we have sown. Logic is truth. The truth is one, and that one is love, because it is not sex, lies or videotape. Is it?

This is the final gestalt. If you don't get it, then hold the phone for a minute. This is not a truth that can be entertained in private. It is the social reality that will destroy my false privacy faster than a clipper chip. This is a truth that can only be celebrated in public, with God. What a party! Want to party?