Evidence that my mental soup is roiling: Dharma and mathematics. Marsh gases and auroras. Kon Tiki II and termites. Today’s gunslingers and tomorrow’s artists. That damned space-time continuum . Is it coincidence that the words “soul” and “soil” are 75% identical….. And, by the way, just what in the hell do you think we’ll discover is the pièce(s) de résistance of eternal existence? I’ll bet you a shiny nickle it’s something mundane by human standards…. like nitrogen.. or the quark.. or gravity.. or an item we have no word for in our languages.
It’s not God, that’s for sure. But that’s okay, because we don’t think it’s God in the first place; we believe it to be ourselves! We think humanity is the be-all / end-all of history and time; God is merely our facilitator. Despite our extreme arrogance, human beings are just incidental blips on the existential radar. Here today, gone tomorrow. You can wax dogmatic ‘til the cows come home, but this eventuality — the end of man — will not have been the end of time. Just an infinitesimal phonic caught in a syllable of a word of a sentence in a paragraph of a page within a chapter of the epic poem called IT.
We measure Life with ever-passing increments of time, even distance…. That’s not too wacky or abstruse… but Einsteinian theory tells us there exists nothingness — nothingness — which is so dense, it’ll alter time. Nothing — the opposite of something — is floatin’ around in the middle of nowhere (literally), and it can warp an abstraction like time…. Obviously, time is something more outstanding than us. That means nothingness is better than us…. Dude, this is metaphysical paper-rock-scissors!
And what about the elements…. That identifier is a misnomer, actually, because we keep learning that our building blocks are really made up of smaller items, so each subsequent building block is relegated to the compounds, ad nauseum. I’m not sure what science’s current fundamental thingamajig is theorized to be, maybe the lepton or the cruton…. But you know what? Whatever it is, it’s made only of some piss-ant kind of light-energy, motion — nothing!
Nothing plus nothing leaves nothing… you gotta have somethin’…. if you wanna dance with me!
What if dreams are concrete, but our asphalt and steel is made of air? What if something like love could break time, not just bend it, and nuclear explosions, heretofore dreaded as cataclysmic, are but sweet wisps of steam in a universal fart? And if time is malleable, and if the basic physical property of everything is absolute nothing, and if human duration is but a pin-point on a continuum that’s not even time, then what do I care?
I think nothing is the cosmic pièce de résistance. (I mean the thing Nothing, not no-thing.) Chaos has a purpose; the purpose is chaos. Nihilists are faith-based believers; the religious are agnostic. We all know that we fashion our own dream-reality, but do we build all of reality, too. Anything is possible in a bass-ackwards dimensionless void of nothingness. And everything is impossible.
All I know is this . . . . I’ll wear sandals with white socks if I damn well please!
