I have spent countless hours tracking metaphors, while pursuing the ultimate reality. I'm searching for a figure of speech. A body of truth that won't misdirect me.

We can discuss conspiracy theories, but blaming other people is futile when everyone feeds their own gas tank.

To start, it's crucial to pinpoint the source that distorts our perception of ideas. With the cadaver dog's help, we uncover and track concealed scents.

I must inquire deeper into its tricky layers.

Does it come from tissue or relate to consciousness?

In this episode, we won't be delving into the mysteries surrounding a medieval shroud of Turin.

Even though forgeries and tricks circle us, I know we can reach a concrete representation of reality. But I have to find it and bring it in for questioning. I need to investigate the truth before it slips away.

What is the honest answer? The reports captivate my curiosity. I've been getting the runaround from others. They bribe me with dog treats. I wonder what their involvement is? The brain, following instructions, wants to know. Are believers looking for right answers, or do they only prefer suggestions that support their preferred reality? Who reads and analyzes agreement terms for immediate use?

The cadaver dog, thought suspects who build up a strong attachment to any idea, have a deep religious wish to own it. But the reports are all the same. As you chase after facts, they change direction. Another common reported occurrence was the truth contradicts one's beliefs, regardless of their voting preference. Other witnesses stated hearing the rumor say it was heading to the store, but ended up at the beach instead.

At the beach, I read or watch people. But today I'm reading a book that teleports me to ancient Greece. Reading allows me to daydream in a peaceful state. I imagine the constraints of my time shaping my boundaries. Does a saffron crocus keep its age-old scent? Is the taste of meat different now compared to how it used to taste?

In ancient Greek plays, the mechane, a crane and pulley, suspended actors in mid-air, leaving audiences in awe with their mouths open. Any performer could embody the essence of Apollo or Jesus Christ.

With every scene and movement, my dog nose presses deeper into the web of scents buried beneath the surface of the staged performance.

Without a doubt, the obvious happens. People master the art of saying one thing and doing the other. Everyone knows duplicity as a dependable supplier who is always hanging around the corner.

I am being watched by someone else, the messiah. Charisma has a way of finding me. I'm a target. Charm and paltering fill the air. The spice dissipates after around half an hour. I question the messiah's behavior. I ask him if he's a megalomaniac or mythomaniac? He takes offense and since then, whenever he sees me, he refers to me as the wandering Jew. Therefore, I embark on a journey to discover that fresh aspect of myself. But, am I really required to stay put for another second coming? Do I need a pardon? I figured out I'm only sticking around for someone with a Cluster B personality disorder to tell me what to do.

I watch the hands and feet of the messiah. His gestures command attention. He defines the ideologies of his devotees who are in his possession. The believers will be the ones writing books, breathing life into his corpse with their new ideas. It has always worked in this manner. Multiple layers of fingerprints covered the modeling compound, with each one telling a different story.

Look at me as I pretend to be the dog Buddha, saying nothing except…pointing out how my paw prints vanish as I clear a way for you. I believe you now comprehend what I am trying to convey. Foot connects figure, leading a mind on a path. To comprehend the symbols that gauge reality, I explore how they harmonize with the natural world. Water rinses away everything was the first thing I noticed.

Before I enter another trance, have you had the pleasure of making the acquaintance of Diogenes?

With his dual role as a cadaver dog and canine philosopher, he sniffs out corruption while also reflecting on the deeper meaning of existence. The dog never fails to surprise us with a special blend of kindness, followed by biting remarks. He inflicts a deep injury on me and then takes care of it. He possessed an acute comprehension of how our eyes perceive and our noses detect scents. Like seeing Plato impressing the wealthy with stories about his teacher, Socrates, who wrote nothing.

But, the assertions that gods cannot lie but poets do is an interesting statement, Plato. Truth, I suppose, is relative and revised by people in their daily moments.

Was Hades a cave or the realm of the eternal dead? The importance lies in maintaining the correct order of the sequence.

The cadaver dog interrupted, emphasizing that understanding deception is essential for our quest for truth. He opened a folder with details referring to the point he was trying to make. According to him, Pythagoras, the ancient Greek philosopher, created a narrative detailing his descent into a deep well, which took him to the unsettling realm of Hades. This fictional cloak made Pythagoras appear as a supernatural being.

He attained overnight success.

Within the folder, there were various items that caught my attention. An informant, who had left the Pythagorean cult, shared his inside knowledge from one of his mystery lectures. Supposdly, Pythagoras had singled out the poet, Hesiod. Pythagoras described the vivid vision of Hesiod and Homer's ghostly existence to his disciples. Hesiod was bound to a metal pillar and Homer was hanging from a tree. The dog identified the ghost as a memory without a body, a significant insight tied to smell.

Now, this mystery of the god's sacred knowledge continues to seduce my thoughts, said the dog. What was it precisely?

The dog philosopher found clues and needed to illustrate more with an example.

Diogenes, whose name signifies being born of a god, hailed from Sinope in Paphlagonia. His father minted coins for a living. Acting upon the advice of an oracle, Diogenes created a counterfeit coin one day. Diogenes, the philosopher dog, saw the mint and its refreshing scent as a true representation of alchemy.

If you're curious, the gods' sacred residence is at the treasury department.

The dog philosopher suggested these coins masked a more profound mystical guardianship. By engraving mottos on money, a coin can incorporate a covert energy into its everyday concrete transactions. He performed a magical incantation, but didn't legitimize an image with the proper authorities.

After being exiled for devaluing Sinopian currency, Diogenes soon departs for Athens. Diogenes then began his lifelong pursuit of truth by lighting a lamp during the day. Every time he met someone, he paid attention to their words. Similar to coinage, thoughts and names hold a true value that is replicated.

I am inhabiting a constructed reality forged by the artistry of an illusionist. But, imagine only chaos prevailed in the world until the poet Hesiod's theogony restored order. Let's revisit our earlier conversation, focusing on the elusive nature of the vanishing point of truth. In the past, poets imitated deity's voice with artistic immunity. They hold the dual role of a ventriloquist and an oracle. In a peculiar manner, the dog philosopher was attempting to suggest poets practiced godcraft.

No gods claimed ownership of the dog philosopher. He wasn't anyone's puppet. He found the idea of fetching thrown balls foolish. The gods, to the dog, resembled an aristocracy occupying a commanding spot on a hill. Their mansion stood protected by a tall fence, stained by graffiti. It is worth mentioning that the unemployed philosopher didn't become a watchdog until later. He survived by living a life of a stray, moving from one storage jar to another.

The dog sometimes lived in a clay container adorned with Potnia Theron, the Mistress of the Animals (thanks to the poet Homer). To the dog philosopher, she was a deity who added a touch of fragrance everywhere she traveled. She was the spirit of pheromones. These signals to a dog were song lines or dreaming tracks. In Diogenes' view, lunar hounds tracked a calendar, while humans labeled the days with numbers. The sillage, a trail created by an aroma of ovulation, provided the dogs with cosmic seasonal information.

Even a faint whiff of Potnia Theron should help us locate her holy glands. Once the dogs find her body, they will unearth the secrets. The dog told me they pick up tons of olfactory impressions that get lost among the air particles, such as the Tengri crescent. When Easter Sunday returns, the dog awaits the chance to wag its tail and indulge in that enthusiastic sniffing.

I find the living Potnia Theron, a female in heat. At this moment, we can consider dog mating as a timeless circle that spins, much like our planet rotates. It is a truth that happens.

Yet, what other make-believe adventures await? What more will the computer screen show me?

A butler dog is being created, capable of hearing and reviewing messages for eternity. Somewhere in that space, the scent of wildflowers floated through the air while a biological sensor that detects smells took my place.

If you lack x-rays, you can't see the hidden internal framework that the body continues to support. The dog philosopher's teeth are showing, suggesting something.

Is it a smile?

The dog philosopher faces timeline challenges because of dishonesty. Suspicion surrounds the identity of dog catchers versus friendly people. It is possible for dog trainers to betray him by enforcing misleading instructions. The dog likened it to being distrustful of politicians with a past as pirates, slave traders, or priests.

It's time to explore the bones.

I assure you; I didn't light a candle and stare into the empty eye sockets of a skull in a dark chamber of contemplation. While it may seem morbid, meditating with a bone is a way to visualize the coral reef with brain waves. If you enjoy drinking water, then the secret to life is moisture.

It is evening.

I look at my wristwatch.

Time has no bias.
 
It flows, neither hurried nor delayed. This truth brings a sense of comfort without opposition. I saw the beginning vanish and see the end appear. As we walked, the immense Milky Way unfolded before us.

~

[Previously published in Cadaver Dogs, 2024]