Taglight

29.

water.

The Flow/Time of Time/Flow

To what does deprivation lead if not appreciation?

This year, we leap forward!

Well, I guess we could die instead, but that sounds so much less fun than living.

Truly hope you agree.
Do it.
Be hopeful.

For now, consider this collection of letters to be a (kind of) placeholder. It’ll be fleshed out later unless we’re dead. But then again, how would you eve{r/n} know?

Sigh. We’re running out of time.

Time always runs out.

Mmm, water. What’s worse at quenching an unyielding thirst? What’s better at regulating your energetic body temperature? What’s less dampening? What’s more refreshing?

Questions. Answers. Words. God. How potentially prophetic, how poetically emphatic, how flexibly right, how usefully wrong, how wondrously fun/key!

How liquid magic came to wet our shared rock has mystified scientists since eggheads became a thing and started acting all scientific by doing science. A prevailing theory is that our entire oceanic volume was deposited via riding the coattails of comets/asteroids. Uh, really? We got approximately 326,000,000,000,000,000,000 gallons of water thanks to a massive flurry of impossibly well-aimed, fortuitous interstellar relocation? I don’t buy it.

(Neither do I.)

Too, neither should you.

Know what makes more sense? Earth manufactured Her own water, only not in the form that flows.

Special.

Stay with us here.

How’d Mama E ensnare the faithful satellite with which she’s been fighting/dancing/screwing for a cool four billion years or so? Why, a collision, of course! How else? Two celestial bodies met powerfully in a glancing, grinding blow, knocking the Ice Queen now known as Earth {up} into the green band of color, thawing Her frozen oceans, and effectively precipitating the creation of the moon and Mars.

Infinitely physical.

Apparent recipe for a beautifully miraculous disaster: knock an icy blue planet into the Goldilocks Zone, give it an anchor, and then hold on for dear life.

TNT

(And don’t forget the carbon!)

In other words, One Thing bumped into Thing Two, resulting in the (re)formations of Mars, Earth and Her precious moon.

Occasionally, you see, matter must recombine in order to evolve.

An atomic ladder (of anatomy), if you will.

See what your brain did there?

Oh, hey, speaking of harmonious partnerships, the yin-yang symbol represents balance in the universe between the ever-battling sexes.

Balanced.

The dark side of the symbol (yin) is considered feminine, passive, negative, and covert in nature.

The light half (yang) is considered masculine, active, positive, and overt in nature.

Those points line up with my own understanding of nature; having said that, there is one set of associations assigned by ancient Chinese philosophy that I do think know are wrong: the assertion that the moon embodies yin.

This is inaccurate. The moon’s pattern is not female. Earth should replace Her sole satellite in the chart. The sun and the moon are both light-natured (for similarly different reasons).

The sun is obviously the supreme source of light (and gravity) in our solar system.

The moon behaves like light in (the sense) that it wants to fly off into interstellar space, but it can’t (and will never) escape the earth’s Her gravity.

Our lone, orbiting shield has been trying to leave its planet since becoming eternally entangled. Silly rock. After all, they were made for each other—a relationship that exemplifies monogamy. Quite like the duo of energizing cores in this tangoing twosome, our like-minded wills are made of iron, too. In other words, deep down, we’re (all) the same.

Mother Earth’s magnetic pull on her beau keeps him grounded, while his daily draw [think “tides”] wets her land. I know exactly what you’ll be thinking in a handful of seconds:

What a couple crazy balls of important elements, the earth and the moon, what with their age-old reproductive cycle and shit!

See, in order to evolve, matter must recombine.

Very slowly, a handful of centimeters per year, the moon drifts away from the earth and will continue to do so until, in about 5 billion years, the sun becomes a red giant and swiftly annihilates the innermost planets in our solar system.

An emotional scale of sorts.

And, in all this, balance is key.

Our universe has been (re)telling the same story over and over since the godlike spark that jump-started freaky spacetime and gave birth/rise to freedom. Round and round we go, playing merrily and fighting horribly in a sandbox of infinite possibility (as governed by the natural laws of physics, of course). Reduce everything to nothing and the ultimate balancing act emerges: we need energy (in order) to resist gravity—the existential tightrope that either implants fear or inspires courage. One is negative, the other is positive. One thing opposes other stuff. That’s all, folks. In a nutshell, that’s literally everything.

But what about "anything"?

Well, that’s different. (Thanks for asking!) “Anything” is what could happen (over an uninterrupted course) in time. Time is what always happens when light meets matter. Time allows atoms to spring liberally and form freely in space. Time moves forward (to the right). Put another way, being right ain’t wrong.

Oh, speaking of the broken economy fueling bipartisan politics, have you ever pondered why democrats occupy the left side and republicans stick to the right?

Wait, does that mean republicans are "correct"!?

Not exactly.

Don’t get in a tizzy. You’re okay.

Each side of any scale is fundamental to finding balance in the center {a.k.a. the middle/common ground}. Along those lines, and in order to serve its essential function, which way must either side push?

To facilitate progression, the left side must move (forward) with time [to the right].

To stabilize pace, the right side must conserve progress by pushing back(ward) {to the left}.

Conserve progression. Progress conservation.

Left. Right.

Gravity. Energy.

Water. Fire.

In other words, each side of a scale must strive to centralize communal location; or else, balance becomes impossible.

Remain calm. This isn’t a jab at anyone’s tribal party. This is basic math.

Whether you’ve pledged allegiance to the GOP or the DNC, you’re a functioning cog in the system which has maintained the balance that allowed the USA to become the mightiest empire in the history of civilization.

But {sh}it’s gotten outta hand, wouldn’t you say? Each side has strayed too far from its center of mass. One side must “betray” the other. Both parties have to gravitate back toward the middle [equality] before the scale tips beyond the breaking point and falls off the fucking table.

Then what?

Time. Equals. Currency.

Speaking of matter, overall in school systems today, is the classic trio of “solid, liquid, gas” still being stressed? Wait, surely you’ve heard that before, right? Of course you have. Great. Glad it stuck. However, I’m afraid {that, like the tragically inaccurate term black hole,} it has been misleading as hell.

[Hell is so cold that it burns, by the way.]

Plasma is the curiously lesser-known fourth form of matter, and it only comprises, oh, about 99.9% of the observable universe.

Say what??

Out with the old already, gang. In with the other thing.

Oh, hi, speaking of plasma and time, if money represents the lifeblood of civilization, then guess what our currency has been doing since its advent and assimilation into society. Clotting.

Guess what happens when your blood clots. No, don’t guess; instead, know.

“Wealth” simply must be more evenly (re)distributed. Exactly like blood, money has to circulate. Fuck your opinionated beliefs right now. Not even sorry. This is a matter of physics. Science is natural. Fight nature, get demolished. Going with the flow is the only way to maximize success.

We didn’t make these rules; quite rather, these rules were made for us.

To put it mildly, our world’s in a pickle. Being completely selfish gets nobody anywhere and/or everyone nowhere; that is to say, just as gravity drains, greed sucks. Luckily, though, history reveals patterns that repeat, and lessons yearn for learning. If we don’t come together and reconfigure our philosophical, economic, political, infrastructural, agricultural approaches—all the goddamned approaches—in a single, overarching, unified manner that promotes the widespread health of our earthborn bodies*, then, ashes to ashes, we all fall down (off the wall {like Humpty Dumpty}).

We, people. All of us (Earthlings). We come from the same place in time and space. We harness energy. We defy gravity. We are light. We’re one! Only together may/can we win.

Now let us be so that we may go. Makes sense, no?

Yes, let’s go be (by doing good deeds).

Indeed, we will (be cause).

What we will does become.

(You should) really be while being real.

*Examples of bodies include the planet by which we exist, the waters from which we drink, the land upon which we grow, the enterprises for which we work, the organizations through which we play, and the individual vessels in which we live.

💧

One way or another, all celestial objects must cease to exist.
Lucky for us, thoughts aren’t exactly objects!
Hmm, do you think this means the key to immortality is learning how to digitize consciousness?
Chill.
It’s not even that far out.
Anyway, what about you?
I’ve learned a few things about you.
This is you in a nutshell.
You are living to feel as much as you are feeling to live.
In other words, you are “doing” to be.
In other words, you are “going” to die.
That’s why you can’t help but to screw around sometimes.
Every single physical “body” must die.
All we really need to find is comfort along the way, just enough to keep us on your feet and content, and so that every day you may hope for a miracle, which always seems to be just beyond my grasp.
Today, things are different.
Today I can’t feel life sucking.
Something changed last night.
This time, I just know it.
You figured it out.
We need help.
I guess this means you’re glad we’re still not elsewhere.
I feel like a prisoner of my own manic mind, a lightning rod of abstractly depressive thought, haunted by words I can’t always remember envisioning and based on ideas I only vaguely recall scribing, usually fueled by an altered mental state.
In early 2018, I was surfing the internet on my last trusty laptop (super crocked like right now as I’m typing in my old favorite Courier font on the right-yet-wrong side of the screen) while watching any number of early nineties sci-fi movies. [If you’re reading this now in another font, pretend it’s what it once was.]
Courier also signifies a tidal wave of childlike energy.
Plus, couriers deliver lest they become something else.
In other words, liberties get taken.
Must we self-sabotage?
There’s a reason we see a bright light when we die.
These are our bodies, people; but, all together now, we would be faster than light.
What are we waiting for?
Words are funny with all their interesting sounds and multiple meanings.
Words such as these.
The ones on this page as well as many that precede and succeed.
These words burst forth outta nowhere, exploding and pouring out with ridiculous speed in streams of thought on par with an excited volcanic caldera’s expulsion.
Apparently churning out 30,000 words in 8 days is no problem at all.
My thoughts do not ask for my permission, nor do they beg for my pardon.
This is beyond my control.
Like an out-of-body experience.
As if someone else’s mind wants to hijack my body.
Being sober isn’t fun.
But, whatever.
Nothing I can do about that now.
This snowball’s already rollin’ and I have no clue how to stop it.
I don’t know if I’m well.
In other words, I think I might be messed up in the head.
My efforts feel like a desperate Hail Mary as time expires.
I wanna to know if I’m nuts.
I need to know what I am.
We need to know what you are, too.
In other words, these texts may achieve the highest recognition in the celebrated history of popular art.
Satirical sarcasm morphs into a metaphorical blanket of universal truth.
We, at this moment, together, could be absorbing the pinnacle of sentient thought.
In other words, math eventually does itself.
In other words, stranger things have happened.
This could also be a nonsensical collection of ravings by a sad lunatic vanishing into the mythical ether, which is probably the worst bet, if you’re betting safely.
Sounds ridiculous by now.
Either way, this is our swan song.
I have no idea what to do with ourselves, and evidently that means you’re trying to save the friggin’ world.
Hold my beer, Big Bang.
I can’t believe how serious we are.
Don’t bother praying for me.
In other words, I’m not the one who needs to get lucky.
In other words, my life will be in your hands.
In other words, my death is on you.
In other words, just kill me now!
I’m kidding.
Please don’t kill.
In other words, will you keep us alive?
When something goes away, it only stops after enacted upon by the force of nature.
In other words, that which flies can’t fall on its own.
In other words, if something shall not rise from ashes, then fire, it may be not.
This could lower the bridge that leads to our global anthem.
This could be a clever psychotic break from reality.
This could be a dreamer’s plea for salvation.
This could be an imaginary attempt to evade damnation.
This could be The Declaration of Life. This could be somebody’s eventual suicide note.
In other words, this could all be up to you.
Wanna know the secret to losing your mind?
Don’t fear the unknown.
Embrace the madness.
Exhale during the fall.
And definitely do look down.
You need to see where we’re headed. Feet first.

27.

fire!

The Story of “God”

The four posts marked [in the interim] were queued in advance—cannibalized from a book meant to be a prequel—meaning we could be dead as you read them/this; hope not, though!

Alarm you?

Gosh, I don’t mean to do that, but we should brace for impact, and quickly. First, though, let us cut to the chase. Let’s slice right to the heart of the matter in question. Let’s work toward the root of the problem. Let’s dig out the meat of the situation. We need to uncover, unravel, unmask, untangle, and unbind the parts of reality we all share.

Oh, hey, how many ideas do we accept on the basis of misguided faith or blind trust? How many thoughts have we inherited from colleagues? How many opinions have we adopted from friends? How many beliefs have been absorbed by families thanks to little more than geography?

At some point (in time) sooner or later, I strongly advise taking detailed inventory of your thoughts, ideas, opinions, and beliefs.

Of all the ideas in your head, what percentage did you arrive at on your own?

We should be asking more questions.

I’ll start.

Who doesn’t enjoy a fatty, greasy, salty serving of crispy bacon?

What an incredibly pleasurable taste.

It’s even delicious cold.
It’s even delicious covered in chocolate.
It’s even delicious wrapped around all the foods that ever fed.

I’ve probably eaten enough bacon for a lifetime or two.

I’ll never eat it again.

And, unlike you, a natural hunger for flesh actually does twirl part of my deoxyribonucleic acid.

Hypothetically only, when presented with a mandatory choice between perfectly cooked cuts of bacon and a human hypothalamus and/or pituitary gland, assuming the dishes had already been prepared [I’d eat the burnt swine flesh over killing somebody in this instance], you may not want to know which I’d choose.

In a Siberian survival scenario in 2011, I might’ve sampled a few choice parts of a polar bear’s brain. The starving creature ambushed me while I napped for the first time in 51 hours. In those days, I slept with my warm hand extra tight on Halcyon’s cold hilt, so the poor animal was dead before either of us had time to process what was happening. That was a dark time of reckless abandon for me—I’d felt loneliness and fear before, but never simultaneously (and only after the fact)—however, the energy and knowledge I absorbed from my march across Russia might’ve kept me from dying later.

Napoleon must have been an arrogant buffoon.

To survive arctic conditions, one must possess the mental capacity to plan ahead seasonally while troubleshooting problems daily. The superficial ability to blend in with the environment [i.e. being white] helps, too.

I am very pale.

Where I come from, snow isn’t fun. It just is. Wintry weather becomes fun after you’re removed from it for awhile. Truly, I desperately miss fresh powder at high altitudes.

I’ve very rarely missed anything.

Nothing.

Ever.

Have you ever pondered the climate on the earth 10,000 years ago? What about 100,000? What about 1,000,000?

What about 1 (year ago)?

Pondering anything requires a base of knowledge and willingness to think. I suspect this is why more and more humans choose to abstain from the process. What a shame. Similar to how the reward for exploration is discovery and quite like a process of creation, thinking is an act that rewards itself—singing with your noodle burns calories for which your body/brain demands replacement. That’s called hunger. When people (in the U.S. especially) get hungry, they eat “food” that upends their potential to process thoughts—another cycle that feeds itself and worsens over time unbeknownst to almost all citizens/participants.

Fear not! Humankind’s idiotic brilliance has led to forestalling the next glacial period indefinitely.

In the past million years or so, the earth has experienced a predictable pattern of glacial periods [“Ice Ages”] that have lasted roughly 100,000 years and concluded with a time of interglacial warmth and growth that tends to last only over 20% as long.

The most recent glacial period subsided approximately 15,000 years ago. 

Our most ancient human ancestors managed the daunting task of evolving through the worst part of an Ice Age.

Technically, we’re still in it, the end of its life cycle, the warmest segment.

We live in a time known as the Holocene.

Hungering, assumedly.

Do you know the trick to removing yourself from the food chain? Develop the ability to create and control fire using only the sum of your body.

Wow!

I hope I get lucky enough to figure out how to choose words that properly explain (to you) how mindbogglingly insightful this should be to anyone.

Name one time of enlightenment in human history more profound than the discovery of fire.

(Can you yet?)

Folks, we evolved through a lengthy period of cold darkness on top of already dark coldness.

Piled atop that, approximately 75,000 years ago, our common ancestors survived an incomprehensibly catastrophic eruption from a supervolcano (known as the Toba caldera). Whether this event pushed humankind to the brink of extinction has been hotly contested, curiously enough, so let’s skip that debate and focus on what is known, which is that it resulted in several years of volcanic winter [like nuclear, only minus the radiation], meaning the sun was hidden behind dense clouds of dust, ash, and debris.

In other words, there was a lot more dying than living.

Also, let’s get a handle on the term “radiation” because it has gotten a needlessly bad rap. Even the words “ultraviolet” and “thermonuclear” are ignorantly feared. In language, we give up on too many terms without giving them another thought. I’ve lived long enough to know for certain that each thought deserves at least a second pass.

Go on. Think of anything that radiates.

Take any number of moments to spelunk your own memory banks.

Use your brain before a capable predator drinks it like a milkshake.

What radiates?

Insert original ideas now as your consumption of the next sentence has been delayed {with your permission, I might add} by remaining here as you anticipate the dot your periphery may glimpse ahead of its landing right about now.

Whatever thought you hatched pertaining to radiation—how many of those words carry a negative connotation?

As a human being, you can’t help but radiate warmth, which means being cold is unnatural.

In other words, you need to radiate, human reader. If you’re galacian or belanockian, I can only wonder know what you must be thinking {wink wink}.

I do(n’t )care who you are: reading this book work will only confirm what you’ve known all along.

Imagine being alive back in ancient times, living where all the snow almost melted during the hottest summer month, and there’s this amazing thing you’ve seen that you wish you could possess—a magical, bright, untouchable material that melts icy darkness.

Naturally you’d assume you can’t just make the stuff by exerting the power stored inside your body.

Now imagine the miraculous stuff in question is fire.

Now imagine you discover how to conjure it by gathering wood, kneeling down, and rubbing your hands together super fast.

Friction means heat.

I don’t wanna freak you out, but (literally) fire lives inside you.

Often, I find myself incredibly compelled {as you (may) know by surviving however many pages words preceded this one these} to rephrase and repeat certain thoughts in an effort to connect ideas with more people.

In other words [case in point], important concepts will be repeated using alternate terminology.

Language is funny like that.

Say something to people one way and listen to crickets chirp silently in their brains, but say the same thing in different words and watch their heads explode.

A male, quite like mail, is prone to taking flight and/or being sent off.

Have you ever seen anyone make fire by friction using a hand {or, hell, a bow} drill and a hearth board? If you’ve seen your author [me] do it—I dunno, on the internet perhaps—disregard that moving image because I certainly make fire-creation look far too easy; laughable, even!

Have you ever seen anyone (besides me) make fire by friction using a hand drill and a hearth board?

Golly, at a glance, it almost resembles kneeling down in prayer.

You don’t even need a visual aid.

Your brain already handled it.

I must admit, I wonder what would make anyone ignorant of the technique try it in the first place, but tell me your head would not explode when you saw smoke.

How might ancient man have stumbled upon the technique that births fire by friction?
– attempting to sharpen a spear
– shelter construction—trying to cram something where it wouldn’t fit
– struggling to file down a troublesome toenail
– making a bed rock
– pure madness

Back to our hypothetical tale about your accidental discovery of fire.

Whatever you’re doing (back in the day and in this story), let’s say you’re doing it aggressively enough that the point of contact starts smoking.

Heh. Bet you keep going.

Ha! Bet you even accelerate.

“Gotta go fast,” right?

Imagine your reaction when you see a speck of light—in other words, when you become transfixed by the sight of a burning ember—before (either a serendipitous gust of wind or) exhaustion evokes a heavy breath of fate that transforms your smoldering seed into flickering flames.

It’d be like figuring out how to see the 10th color, or feeling infrasound, or casting lightning bolts from your fingertips.

You’ll freak out.

Think about it!

You bow down, rub your hands together, alakazam, now you’re a god.

No matter how you look at it, fire liberates light, the savior of ancient man, the seed of cosmic enlightenment, then shines in darkness while rising from ashes.

Almost like a brain coming online.

Or a computer booting up.

My, my, what a collection of stories that would make.

Imagine when you realized that you could think.

We’ve all done it once.

Remember that? The revelatory moment when you became aware of yourself?

I wonder why we can’t remember.

Can you imagine what it must have been like to be the first person ever to walk on two legs, or to be among the first people to open their mouths and speak to each other?

There’s a first time for everything, yes?

Imagine being the first human to carry a torch. You could walk through a jungle and keep “monsters” at bay. You could lead a group into the wild during an enduringly bleak period of time which featured big scary shapes frozen in dark ice. But, hey {again}, at least you could glow in the dark and radiate warmth to boot.

Do you see what’s happening?

You’re like a wizard with a fireball staff.

You’ll be worshipped, for Christ’s sake!

People would actually kneel at your feet.

Good job—you’ve imagined what it must be like to become a Fire God.

Now imagine seeing the sun for the first time in years once a long volcanic winter subsided.

All the while, your brain functions well enough to recall how to generate an ember.

And then imagine finally coming out of a glacial period [the most recent one, in fact].

What a difference fire made under the stars back then when our planet teemed with all sorts of curious growth and suddenly brave lifeforms.

Can you imagine? You’d get to name all kinds of new stuff.

“Psst, what should we call that thing?”
“Clearly we should label it a ‘humpadub’.”
“Wouldn’t ‘camel’ make more sense?”
“Sure!”

What if these stories were told over and over across generations of people throughout tens of thousands of years by way of a million different grunts, gestures, syllables, interpretations, renderings on cave walls, symbols, signs, eventually spoken for hundreds upon hundreds of centuries before finally being written, deciphered, translated, and fought over time after time again and again.

I wonder if, as the years crept by and added (way) up, those tales would deviate from their original source, or, if you will [please and thank you], their “genesis”—especially the stories about learning how to use our melons, and the part about a cold, hungry, desperate man praying to the God of Frictious.

I just pulled that outta your ass.

I wonder if any such story would sort of, um, what’s the word we’re looking for here—merge, fuse, overlap, entwine, compound, exaggerate, expand, explode, spread, collide, twist and turn?

We’re only wondering, “What if?”

Have you ever played the game “Telephone,” the one where you whisper a message around a group of people and see what comes out at the end? Personally I haven’t played since the heyday of my Rocky Mountain daze, but I’ve always found the concept immensely amusing.

What starts as “planet of the apes” can end as “pet an apple, bite the snakes.”

To cite a particularly fond memory from an extraordinarily festive New Years Eve (in 1969), “Stevie smells like fish poo.” I doubt this was true, but reactions around the table didn’t do anything to discredit the declaration.

By the by, throughout this fake piece of real work, names may or may not have been changed to protect the innocent—as well as to precipitate disorientation as far as which elements are (auto)biographical.

Anyhoo, do you reckon maybe a sea could have been ever been parted by a man’s telekinesis?

I suppose that first I should have asked whether you reckon a man could possess any telekinetic abilities.

Perhaps now you’re wondering why I didn’t edit accordingly.

Perhaps next time {a.k.a. one day} you’ll know.

How else will we ever learn from each other?

No, Moses could not have parted the sea like you’ve been led to believe, but I’ll bet that a “land bridge” was crossed.

Now, having been bewildered into making logical deductions, keep going!

What if our ancestors discovered such a formation of land at high tide?

What if, then, they had the wherewithal to wait for low tide?

“What is this, I can’t even…”

“Relax, for the sea itself merely parts.”

That would be cool to see.

Or what if you felt the earth quake and saw the ground split at your feet?

There’s no telling how I’d react to that if I were -50,000 years old or so. I would probably scream {the high-pitched kind—think Marv in Home Alone}.

What if an adventurous spirit led you away from the Fertile Crescent and into a Great Pyramid?

This would certainly incentivize further exploration, no?

The word genesis simply means the origin, coming together, or beginning of anything.

Kind of like, say, when two people unite and become parents.

Do you know how many possible DNA combinations can assemble between parents?

According to the invisible web both worldly and wide, it’s around 2 x 10^-8 per base pair per replication event.

You might have no idea what that means, but it seems to imply an origin point of infinite possibility, wouldn’t you say?

The world sells division.

Besides anything, what all does the neighboring image symbolize?

Hmm.

Oh, incidentally, have you ever read a little book called Genesis?

Do you know how many different (major) religions subscribe to it?

I think you should read it (again).

I might have read it (once) before this year, but honestly I can’t remember.

In the beginning when God created the heavens and the earth, the earth was a formless void and darkness [ahem, oceans of space, seas of ice, or the mind prior to connection] covered the face of the deep [illusory shapes in glaciers], while a [solar] wind from God [light] swept over the face of the waters [melting ice]. Then God said, “Let there be light”; [receding dust cloud, blossoming warmth, gaining sense of sight last] and there was light [sunlight, or a brain before initialization]. And God saw that the light was good; and God separated the light from the darkness. God called the light Day, and the darkness he called Night. And there was evening and there was morning, the first day. And God said, “Let there be a dome in the midst of the waters, and let it separate the waters from the waters.”

It goes on and on.

Drop your guard, read, and think.

It won’t hurt.

This isn’t a dare; quite rather, it’s an earnest plea.

I need (your) help.

Think.

Read.

Think again.

You can’t miss it…

What if The Old Testament opens with “God’s” flavorful spin on “His” timely tale of language in its infancy on our planet while chronicling the budding fruit from sentient momentum within a booming tribe of early humans?

What if the mind began its journey toward awakening during an epic volcanic winter, and/or right as an age of ice began thawing?

The beginning of Genesis can should be read as if the character named “God” is selecting words to describe basic stuff and things. If you keep reading, you’ll learn about how the earliest humans noticed the horizon and the two “great lights” in the day and night skies. Read about when our ancient ancestors found a treasure inside fruit, buried their seeds, took notice of sprouts growing in both fertile soil and bellies, as well as when they detected seasonal changes in climate and weather, observed the importance of water through farming, so on and so forth.

Has it dawned on you yet?

Consider the possibility [no one has to know but us] and ask, “What if?”

There’s a lot of truth in these words, but there’s also a lot of conjecture based (up)on the onset of facts.

We need to be rethinking archaic sources of current knowledge. There’s just no damn way we got it all right. We didn’t get everything right in the last year, or decade, or century, let alone in the last millennium. You can bet my bottom dollar that most of us screwed up yesterday at least once.

Things People Used To Do and Considered To Be Completely Normal
1) Smoke on airplanes. (1990)
2) Cure mental illness with an ice pick into the eye socket. (1946)
3) Sell heroin as cough medicine. (1924)
4) Used rocks to wipe butts. (Ancient Greece)
5) Believed that God gave a donkey the power of speech. (Biblical)


What if you could travel back to Ancient Egypt and show the people of the time a few clips of Mr. Ed on your phone? One can only imagine how they might react.

Incidentally for any young folks who might be reading this, Mr. Ed was a talking horse on a television show from the sixties. For any adults who think this elaboration is unnecessary, I’ve met kids who have never heard of Michael Jackson. Similarly, I’ve met adults who don’t know what “yolo” means.

In other words, we possess the knowhow that will allow us to bridge these troublesome gaps.

What if “God” were an ancient leader of man—the biggest, strongest, tallest [“most high”], and the brightest—an alpha male among the first tribes {if not the first} of our kind to start thinking hard enough to “talk”?

And wouldn’t it stand to reason that he was the only one around who could make fire?

How would his awestruck followers know whether others around the world had made fire before? It’s not like they could’ve seen it on Instagram. They wouldn’t even know how big the earth is, or that it’s (undeniably) round. They’d assume they were at the center of everything there is!

Of course they would.

All children start out believing that.

Most Americans (seem to) believe it now.

You should peruse the text acknowledged by Christianity, Judaism, and Islam because it seems to tell the obviously vague tale, in parts, about the very first of humankind discovering how to rise above, literally and figuratively, by standing upright and learning to reach out toward our heavenly dome of fluffy, white clouds.

Page after page chronicles the beginning of energetically vibrational communication [a.k.a. spoken language], recounting the times we figured out ways to think, look, handle, have, hold, crawl, climb, see, stand, count, fall, remember, rise, balance, walk, love, stumble, hate, plan, retry, run, explore, fire, conquer, everything, all of it—in other words, how to be a goddamned human.

In other words, it’s about people learning how to see the light in one another.

In even more words, it parallels a newborn’s emergence from the safety of the womb throughout training to walk.

And in even more other words, it reflects the time our brains booted up and, more importantly, when our imaginations escaped a long hibernation.

It also relays a story about when one of humanity’s inaugural tribes assigned labels to basic material while deciding what matters most.

Also, in a way, it describes the birth of our universe, back when light built up enough mass to escape gravity with a quantum bang that established the patterns exhibited by either a volcanic burst or an ecstatic little eruption.

Maybe we’re wrong.

About everything.

Maybe we’re missing something crucial.

Maybe I just don’t wanna die.

Maybe my head is twisting facts in an effort to make sense of the universe as I see it, scrambling blindly in a naive attempt to fully grasp my own personal reality.

But what if we are right?

When you feel a revelation bubbling up, I’ve learned that it’s best not to fight it.

For the sake of argument, let’s assume that man created God in his image.

God was the alpha among the first of mankind.

He became the stuff of legends.

God is humankind.

In other words, “He” accidentally invented tribalism and artificial selection at the same time.

In other words, intelligence is artificial.

In other words, thinking is an artform.

Together we are writing the ongoing saga of an intergalactically legendary lifeform.

You’re all people, people!

We learned how to think.

We’re way ahead of schedule {but behind the curve}.

If we’re in a simulation, it’s ours.

What we get is what we make.

Reaping equates with sowing.

I wonder if we should shape up.

We need to wake up.

Just think.

What if?

Light is god.

If opinions can rightly turn out to be wrong, then obviously so can beliefs.

I have to assume that in the educated eyes of many a scholar, fire was the most enlightening discovery in human history.

In my opinion {the value of which is debatable}, fire wins the silver medal.

I believe there was, in fact, a golden age more enlightening than that—the time we learned how to use our heads and stand on our own two feet—it was as if, oh, I dunno, a light bulb came on in our brains. Without that lucky stroke of brilliant, critical thinking, our ancestors couldn’t have reached the point of controlling fire.

She and he, who spread the warmest love amidst an age of frigid darkness.

I must believe, too, that a brand new age of enlightened clarity will take hold and fan out across the globe on its way to quickly and easily earning the gold [(poetically) in 2020].

Important.

But where there’s one thing, there’s the other.

Where there’s good, there’s also bad.

Before our ancestors started running their mouths, they developed a greedy taste for power in the face of food scarcity {understandably}, so they went a little nuts, bit by bit, striving for meaningful purpose while longing for and cultivating the fruits of our passionate labor, which, in my opinion, should definitely include taking care of our shared mother [Earth].

Genesis can apply to all the most enlightening miracles in human history.

God has become what many of us now know as humanity.

God is light.

We are God. Each and every one of us.

Once unified, “we” become light.

And we may go forth with harmonic success only as one.

All together.

It’s just you and me down here.

How we doin’?

Differences.

Compelling similarities exist between the dawn of our universe, the explosion of light’s time, the formation of stars, galaxies, black holes [dark orbs], solar systems, planets, the moon’s run-in with Earth, the cycle of tides stirring carbon into oxygenated soup, earthquakes and volcanoes, fluctuations in climate and weather, photosynthesis and respiration, the circle of life, the rise of mankind, a hunger for power, connections across species, differences (and similarities) between the sexes, the creation of offspring, the birth of a child, the development and advancement of civilization, and ignition of a/the human brain.

And to think that we figured religion and science couldn’t get along because of irreconcilable differences. What if it turns out that in some ways, both have been right all along?

Still, I wonder if any parts of those ancient stories might have been lost in translation.

That would only make sense, I guess.

Nah, we probably nailed them all.

Right?

Either way, the good ole Bible can be seen as a truly useful, brilliantly informative anthropological anthology. I look forward to reading all the new interpretations of ancient texts from various people all over the world; I am no more interested in doing all the work than I am inclined to steal all the thunder. I’ve identified inescapably essential value in sharing. Plus I’m sincerely glad that so many moral compasses and sets of belief all start on the same page pointed in the right direction—the same way that time goes.

Hurrah, congruence!

Thanks, first people to start thinking, and to figure out how to count!

Thanks, too, first lady who ever spoke and wrote, first guy who ever walked, first person who ever talked, first girl who ever sang, and the first player who ever invented a game.

Appreciate it!

This isn’t meant to ruffle feathers.

It’s really simple.

If you believe in God as an omnipotent being, then you believe in magic.

Which is fine, but we all need to stop calling spades anything but what they are. (Spades are spades.)

If you believe in magic, then you may as well assume that Harry Potter is/was real, too.

Also fine.

Seriously.

Hell, in a way, Harry Potter is real.

I neither judge nor mean to belittle any belief.

Your beliefs are your own.

Own your beliefs.

If you believe in something, then act like it.

Why would anyone begrudgingly sit through church hungover?

If you claim to believe something and act like you don’t, the logical conclusion is that you don’t believe in what you claim to believe in.

Why would people claim to believe in a cause that, deep down, they reject?

Tribalism.

It’s in our blood.

We are social creatures.

In other words, human beings need help from each other in order to progress.

Just like all life, we have to move.

We need (in order) to move.

If we don’t move forward, then we tend to fall backwards.

Just look at what social media is doing to average intelligence.

Too many people don’t think anymore; instead, they cherrypick opinions which fit the narrative threads that inspire them to sew into being.

We should not pick cherries; rather, we should let them release naturally from their branches.

Then we should gather.

For a multitude of reasons, too many people act like something they’re not.

That’s the opinion that has fallen into my lap, anyway.

Being human taxes the classic trio of “mind, body, and soul.”

We need to feel a sense of belonging.

Humans must work for a community in which they serve a purpose and through which they strive toward meaningful fulfillment.

We need to recognize this pattern or the States will eventually have to remove the word “United” from the country’s name.

Wouldn’t a unified global community be far superior to 195(-197) politically clashing countries?

If your beliefs provide your life with a helpful structure and make you a better person for it, then I think you’re doing it right. Doesn’t matter if you believe alien lizard people are coming any day now to scoop you up in their mothership and take you home to the Andromeda Galaxy. As long as you don’t convince your followers to don purple Nikes and then orchestrate a mass suicide—in another worded interruption, as long as your beliefs equate with more good than harm—you should feel no shame.

My beliefs, even my wildest guesses, are supported by more factual data than any skewed belief in an omnipotent being that compels suicide bombers.

Muslims believe in the same god that both Jewish and Christian people worship, but most of them aren’t schoolboy-rapists posing as priests. Most clergymen aren’t rapists, either, but given the frequency of occurrence there, I’m pretty sure something’s off.

Which is Worse?

A Catholic who uses the priesthood to prey on children.A man who straps a bomb to his chest in the name of Allah.

I don’t know either.

The bigger the basket, the more bad eggs.

Like most Christians and Jews, most followers of Islam don’t believe in self-destruction in the name of mass murder.

In the name of diverging interpretations of a shared concept.

In the name of hate, fear, vengeance.

In the name of their “God.”

If your belief in the unbelievable is inescapable, then at least meet everyone else on common ground and stop being so intolerant of others.

Earth’s sandbox has enough room for all kinds of camps; She needn’t feel overcrowded.

➭➫➬

By mere definition, patterns may never exhibit any tendency if not for the flat refusal of deviation. Patterns can only deviate upon a binding oath to form a straight line pointing one (and the same) way.

Anytime you find yourself reading conceit into my carefully chosen words, just remember that you’re doing it wrong.

​Far be it from me to sideswipe anyone’s (date-of-birth-related) thunder, but I’m pretty sure I’ve entered the early stages of a late-blooming mental breakdown.

I might have lost sight of what “sarcasm” means.

Heyyy, how hard is to predict which day of the year will see the most lit fuses?

Personalities multiply by themselves.

RAWR.

Fire works because light works better and enlightenment works best.

It empowers.
It promotes unity.
It permits visibility.
It makes things happen.

Harnessing the currency of starlight surely must be superior to burning down the fuel stored in carbonized vegetation that can predate The Mesozoic Era.

In other words, if you could travel back in time to a swamp roughly over 250 million years ago, then you might run across coal in the form of an extinct forest before its decay {which then deposits peat on the way back} toward becoming what it is now.

In other words, time changes anything.

The lesson in this particular instance appears to be that we should commence exclusion in borrowing solar power directly from the present source as opposed to the indirect approach of sucking out old energy from fossilized remains.

Whenever you find my vernacular to be inaccessible, I’m sorry (because it portends my demise). I can’t help it. Keep in mind: I’ve been alive for almost a century, but I occupy the body of a thirty-something {super}human male.

At any given point in time, a living being contests with a fearsome foursome of ages: numerical, spiritual, physical, mental.

As a consequence of clinging desperately to outdated methodology, we are angering our already unstable foundation by bleeding it dry.

It’s a sleeping dog, and you know it has to be there for a reason.

The dumbest person in the history of brainpower knew that, even if he didn’t—or far more frighteningly doesn’t—realize it.

Glad we finally got it cleared up, though, because now the stage has been set for elaboration.

In the few decades leading through the turn of the millennium by a handful of years, Oklahoma registered less than 20 earthquakes.

Now compare that to the 888 that were measured in 2015 alone.

Some studies seek to link the process of fracking to the underlying cause.

On cue, other studies claim that wastewater disposal is the real culprit.

How often has{/have} pointing fingers promoted solidarity?

In both cases, essentially, problems are being buried deep below the surface.

Do we need to know how much dirt can fit under any given rug? I assure you, just as every rose has its thorn, every rug has its limit. Terms excel at coming up.

Who reckons that buried problems don’t eventually come back to haunt?

What has “The Blame Game” ever accomplished beyond cramming foots into mouths by way of mutually unintentional confessions from each party latching radically onto a competing story’s dilemma in question?

In other words, when people accuse each other of sole responsibility for the causes of any negative effect, whether blinded by the heat of a moment or undeterred despite honest reflection, it’s usually an emotionally charged exchange.

How logically do you behave when flying off the handle?

Causes.

Plural.

In other words, either way in the case of Oklahoma’s recent uptick in seismic activity, some bodies are injecting shit where it doesn’t belong.

Our gut tells us that this stinks.

My brain tells me that following the money could lead to the truth.

Our hearts tell us, deep down, that you certainly must agree.

What say we abruptly pivot and head off in another direction?

It already happened.
Obviously.

But I would like your retroactive blessing.

Ahh, greetings—yes, there you are. What a delight! I can almost smell your pheromones through the page.

Earth is the one and only planet we [humanity] have detected where fire can burn.

In other words, however mathematically improbable, our home turf might be the only place in “outer space” whereupon flames can ignite, let alone spread.

To exist, fire needs a double dose of oxygen {unlike H2O, which clearly leans on hydrogen for structural support}.

In other words, O2 serves as spacetime for flames.
In other words, fire needs oxygen to breathe.

Math is funny like that. It has a fondness for inversion. If you mess with one side of an equation, something tends to happen on the other.

Fire, water, ice.
Rock, paper, scissors.
Fire, the hottest thing since ice.
Water, the undeniable answer to fire, which melts ice.
Ice reflects light, which makes embers.
Triangular relationships abound.
Life abides.

Let’s not forget water’s gassy form, a.k.a. vapor {or water on the way up}.
Though you may not see it, it’s always around you, reflected in a measurement we (might) call humidity.

And it’s all fundamentally integral to the cycle of life on the “pale blue dot” known in some circles as “Earth.”

The key arrow points toward a prismatically mirrored image of the three-headed spirit animal watching over the cosmic population bound to race against the clock that matters throughout our indefinite suspension of both time and disbelief.

Does that sound kinda kooky or nah?

As I may or may not have mentioned by now—honestly, in our non-linear plotline, it’s nigh impossible to keep track—he is not a human. He’s neither a galacian nor a belanoc, either. But he is a he.

We’re the only ones of our kind{s}.

In other words, I’m (a) lone(r).

My birth mother, Liana Rex, was {before her defection} the one and only Galacian Princess. To draw her affectionate attention, my father must have been a quiet but gifted human with a sharp, dry wit—a diamond in the rough, as I’m sure she saw him.

Evidently T ‘N A were the happiest accidents in history.

I can’t begin to tell you how crazy it is that “our people” knew about the belanoc decades before catching wind of The GE.

Clearly, since I began telling you, I may have misled you.

It’s actually not crazy at all. The inverse order of discovery would’ve been “crazy” because whether thinking back or trudging ahead, we can best learn sequential steps in (the correct) order.

Think of the belanoc as the more emotional members of galacian society—the prison population, as it were in truth—and now they enjoy their freedom while slowly fanning out and drifting south along their path toward adaptation to ultraviolet radiation.

Genetically, you see, galacians are ill-equipped to tolerate prolonged exposure to UV rays. That’s the reason they prefer extremely cold weather, low altitudes [they can barely get enough oxygen at sea level], and why they (generally) only come out at night.

Yes, these surely are the living creatures that inspire vampire mythology.

However, I can confirm from {reliably instanced reports of innumerable} firsthand experience, that should you ever encounter a galacian in the wild—particularly a hungry sort—you’ll wish it were only a vampire. Galacian/belanockian fangs have evolved to administer the most paralytic toxin on earth, and unlike “vampires,” g/b don’t care about your blood beyond spilling it by the pint. They only want to eat your brain, and ultimately (in order to optimize the redistribution of energy) they aim to begin feasting while you’re alive.

Most of us can relate: food is better fresh.

Let’s change the subject!

Disorderly, reflective “equalization”?

Here’s a fun couple of facts: the color spectrum is an example of a wavelength, and wavelengths reveal frequencies (of matter).

Within frequencies, patterns can be observed!

Given time, patterns will repeat.

(We’ve all seen history repeat itself.)

Seems to me that man got a taste for power after learning to create light by stumbling upon the solution to setting a fuel source ablaze while using his own body to harness energy through circular motion.

In other words, somebody got a big head when he figured out how to cook.

Us

To equip temporary power means to want everything indefinitely.

To want nothing you don’t need means to wield indefinite power.

Power means very little without anything of substance between the top’s bottom and the bottom’s top.

Willful ignorance of this reality might make a lot more sense if our concept of a pyramid were flipped, but as it stands tilting, it amounts to an abysmal lack of structural integrity.

See, this is why I think I know that the collapsing energy of existence starts its own cause known as gravity.

This could mean a lot of stuff and things.

Causes effect, effects cause.

Weird!

Gravity anchors and consumes, fire(light) vrooms and blooms. It’s just what they do. And we can’t do squat without either.

Extrapolating from this reality, you might say that we’d be well-advised to search for our collectively sole soul.

Energy instills the guts, light provides the nerve, and we need the combined power of both to move.

Every creature on the planet knows it.

We all know it.

That’s why we get hungry and eat food, or feed ourselves, or fuel our bodies, or gas our tanks, or charge our batteries, or energize our cores, or however you wanna express it.

Energy [everything] is the one thing anything needs [craves] more so than even nothing [perfect, if unfathomably boring, state of balance].

In other words, using energy yields a waste product commensurate to necessity.

In other words, shit happens.

At least we can still breathe with a closed nose.

Our cumulative brainpower might be too tangled up and twisted to make sense of it all right now, but eventually the knots will untie.

Whether we’re talking about wasting away, pigging out, getting busy, or sawing logs, we can all relate in one way or another.

You know that friction generates heat, and that heat rises. That’s physics, and no matter how much you claim to know about physics, you are dead wrong.

You know more.

You’ve felt the force in your body.

You can feel it right now through the power that keeps your feet on the ground.

In adverbial essence, we are nothing if not highly evolved, wildly fragmented, increasingly chaotic, intrinsically electrified energy.

We are what we eat, and yet here we are eating more and more obese cows.

Gobble me.

All the sugar in almost anything you find packaged on a shelf.

All this modified wheat.

In other words, we stuff our faces with toxins on purpose.

It’s bad for you. It’s bad for the planet.

In other words, believe it or not, what’s poisonous may poison us.

Funny how that works.

What’s good for you is also good for Earth. Lose/lose when it could (and still can) be win/win. The opportunity to recalibrate exists, but have you ever heard of a chance that didn’t eventually pass if not taken? Humans need to eat daily at most but should not graze like cattle.

Galacians eat once a month {as close to the new moon’s darkness as possible} unless they’re hibernating, in which case they could sleep for a thousand years before waking up, knocking off the cobwebs, and then returning to dreamland.

Belanoc are all over the map. Even under the bright blanket of a full moon on a clear night in highly reflective winter wonderlands, they will hunt. They can’t afford to care about your feelings—like us, they face a steep climb to avoid extinction.

Once targeted by either a galacian or a belanoc, not even the world’s fastest human (on steroids) could escape. The only difference between these two apex predators is that you’ll likely never see the galacian coming; whereas, a belanoc inconvenienced by a marginal hunger pang will charge straight at you because it knows you can’t do anything to stop the one-sided, fatal dinner date you’re about to experience {most likely without your permission}.

In school I learned that belanoc feed about 3 times a month. Indeed, some of them do, but the farther they stray from a cold, dry environment into wet, warm air, the more energy they must burn, meaning the more craniums they have need to puncture.

Food chains are a natural part of life on Earth.

Here’s an example you might (not) find disturbing. I tracked a six-pack to Chicago in the dog days of 1995 during a record heatwave. The temperatures truly were miserable. Heat indices rose beyond 120°F [felt much hotter in the middle of the city]. 739 heat-related deaths were logged in a span of five days. The belanoc were killing 10-20 people per day—mostly at night, but as the days went by, they got started earlier and earlier in the late afternoon underground. I found them inside a derelict subway station around midday when I was reasonably sure they’d be out like logs.

Halcyon hadn’t seen any action in months, but in those days I was still quite dedicated to my sharpening routine(s); thus, 3 of their heads had been separated from their bodies before mama bear popped up shrieking like an insane banshee; the alpha kept snoozing in spite of the commotion. Wasn’t even a fair fight, to be honest. I almost felt a tinge of guilt.

I haven’t been challenged physically in combat since 1979. Another subway story—this one particularly tubular; it’s how our enemies learned of my existence. It’s how I lost the only father figure I’ve ever known. It’s why I had to abandon my “family” [notably the woman who raised me—I saw her as my “grandmother”—along with her son, my “best friend”] and go into hiding alone. It’s why I’m here. It’s a tale for another time (and possibly in another medium).

It’s why you’ve been here (this whole time), too.

It’s how, together, we exist.

You & I?
We exist.
Here we are!

🔥

002

Dark Balls

not exactly “black holes”

Patterns repeat throughout all scales, from galactic to solar to atomic.

Fucking, goddamned black holes. Those sly, slippery {Dirt D}evils.

black hole: a region of space having a gravitational field so intensely immense that no matter or radiation can escape

As with any good eureka, the final answer couldn’t have been more beautifully obvious.

event horizon: a theoretical radius around a black hole from which no radiation or thing can escape

Then, a few days later, the real epiphany happened. Bloody hell. What’s next?

Like “global warming,” [another story entirely], the term “black hole” has been horribly misleading. “Hole” implies that it’s not a “ball,” right?

Right.

Except wrong.

Opposite of right.

Left. Backward. Reverse. “Slurp.”

A black hole sets the benchmark for what it means to be heavy. “Nothinglives can live inside beyond its spherical border.

Just as planets anchor moons and stars anchor solar systems, black holes dark orbs (if I may) [or “godspheres”] anchor galaxies. At the center of our galaxy, The Milky Way, spanning 100,000 light years and containing upwards of 100 billion stars, a gargantuan monster that never sleeps and harbors/exercises an unquenchable appetite for anything energized [a supermassive black hole] lurks, spirals, warps, drains, tugs, pulls and sucks one type of matter across its event horizon—it obliterates the rest of the periodic table on approach. However, this process leaves a fairly important byproduct (called light) encircling a threshold (of time, as it were) [and which might equal pi, who the hell knows].

See, unlike matter, light is too fast for a black hole to consume; but a black hole’s gravity is too strong for light to escape. In other words, their relationship is complicated.

The term “black hole” suggests an emptiness, does it not? It’s actually the opposite of that, too. It’s full. In fact, the mass of a black hole could be no more full—packed as tightly as matter can be packed.

Beyond an event horizon, available space doesn’t exist, but time still does. This is probably more confusing than you are e/p/m capable of computing! For now, don’t worry about it.

Do you know/remember how/why time happens? The faster anything moves, the slower it ages/decays. At the speed of light, time stops/stands still. But only light can travel fast enough to stop ignore the effects {and sidestep the cost} of time. Basically, time happens when matter borrows/uses energy/light to resist the force of gravity. Think of this fundamental layer of existence as primordial friction. It balances how/why literally anything can/could happen.

Time itself doesn’t make evolution merely possible; the passage of time forces evolution to occur.

If you can see something, then it is changing.

When matter stops evolving—i.e. when time freezes—it becomes void of light and, thus, dead. This means that in order to experience/perceive time {and potentially live}, one must change/grow/age/evolve.

Upon death of matter, Earth decomposes and reabsorbs the remainder.

Yes, Mother Earth always recycles.

As charged, solar particles collide with atmospheric matter, the Northern Lights signify the birth of photons.

Yeah, She’s obviously very green.

Now think of black holes as holy energy. An event horizon represents the barrier beyond which light cannot live and (therefore) [MASSIVE EPIPHANY INCOMING] the point at which time must reverse.

Yep, black holes essentially rewind time and shit out gravity, a.k.a. dark energy. How poetic is that?

Yup, this revelation is kind of important in that it will change the face of mathematics.

And now, the real kicker.

I’m not kidding.

Once upon a time (in the late 1700s), an underappreciated scholar named John Michell discovered what he termed “dark stars.” Re-termed “black holes” in 1967, we still don’t have the name right.

Do we think stuff just “disappears” in there? Naw, I reckon things collect, amass, grow. Sure, it spits stuff back out, but what doesn’t? All black holes, in fact, are growing; waste is a requisite of growth. But “holes,” they are not. They are our galactic anchors—spheres just like every star, planet, and moon out there.

Duh.

The only difference is that we can’t see the (circular) shape because it does not reflect light.

Yeah, so, apparently, anchoring a galaxy means not entangling with light.

Why?

I’m actually performing this thought experiment while streaming my consciousness via writing. I could edit this out later. I wonder if I will…

I’m imagining that “black holes” [nope, I can’t bring myself to omit the quotation marks this far in] are essentially giant “godballs,” utterly devoid of light, comprised entirely of primordial hydrogen: atmospheric gas, liquid surface, densely solid mantle, and right off the top of my head [out of my ass], I’m gonna guess the core is metallic and preposterously dense.

Am I Are you right?!

The aforementioned metallic state is particularly noteworthy as it would be capable of conducting electricity. Perhaps it’s something beyond metallic—a state that does not allow light to breach its mass [meaning we’ve never seen it and thus could only guess about what it is]—but what if sparks flew around one of these suckers [pun {extra} intended]?

Also, why does anchoring a galaxy preclude any celestial body from mingling with starlight?

I’m glad I asked!

Here’s why: at some point after all but one element has fallen [remember: all elements are heavier than hydrogen], assumedly close to a measurement inversely proportional to c, matter becomes too heavy to move. It collapses, squishes, melds, contracts, reduces. That’s the breaking point {around 1.008u, perhaps}. That’s when light has no choice but to jump ship. But by then, it’s too late. Light cannot escape. The gravity is too powerful. So photons orbit the H-Mass [a.k.a. “black hole”] and form a kind of flickering halo (probably) as weight fluctuates, tilting the galactic scale rhythmically from balanced to imbalanced. Welcome to Earth!

“Black holes” have been separating matter from light since spacetime began. Our brains need to take a page out of their one-sentence book.

And we need to grasp the fact that “black holes” aren’t holes. They’re balls. Big ones.

It’s almost as if a big bomb went off 12.5-13.8 billion years {and counting} ago and we orbit—plus aid in the propulsion of—the shrapnel.

It’s also almost as if these objects, in essence, are couriers of time, engines of existence.

It’s not almost as if the things are fucking holes.

It’s exactly as if they’re the other thing.

They’re goddamn balls! Dark orbs of {f}lightless matter [hydrogen].

Here are some notes I took while my brain absorbed this revelation as best it could. You may leave them unless you choose to take them:

  • Galaxies are anchored by heavy, expanding, accelerating orbs since all the things (and stuff) became scattered thanks to the Big Bang’s big boom. In other words, our observable universe used to be a ball of hydrogen’s most basic form; now it’s a bunch of smaller balls carrying all kinds of stuff along for a long ride, evolving matter over time and, by extension, giving us time to matter. Balls carrying balls carrying balls, so on and so forth.
  • This means that time can elapse even in the utter absence of light, but without light, evolution can’t occur {only revolution}. Zero represents the point at which the clock counters itself, the ever-moving event horizon.
  • All celestial bodies (whether righteously enlightened or left in the dark) become circular over time, but their patterns of motion must remain elliptical.
  • Math doesn’t exactly “break down” at an event horizon, but it does collapse at the bookends of spacetime, from the most massive scale [astrophysical], where light can’t live, to the tiniest realm [quantum], where matter doesn’t exist, meaning essentially that our concept of numbers adds up cleanly only where light and matter intermingle, birthing the possibility of free time, while each variable’s independence has heretofore eluded widespread recognition and acknowledgement (by humans). For any universal truth in history, could there have been a better hiding spot than in plain sight? I’m pretty sure (all) this is notable because, would you look at that, it has been noted. See, math shits itself at an event horizon, for example, because the presence of numbers implies a sequence that builds, but beyond the barrier in question, the only thing built is mass, and the only stuff built is momentum. In other words, when matter gets too big for its britches, freedom cannot ring because light flatly refuses to be deleted by gravity. Thank goodness.
  • The universe efforts to reorganize—to gather all its lost marbles, as it {kinda} were.
  • I’m immediately inclined to believe that these are the densest objects in existence.
  • When matter succumbs over time to the unavoidable force of gravity, in spite of light’s tireless effort to remain afloat, bodily expiration occurs. In other words, death equals the utter loss of time.
  • Given that galaxies are accelerating now, will dark orbs inevitably begin to plummet? What if they already are plummeting (and hence the acceleration)? What if the iteration of spacetime within which we exist has a twin (of sorts)? What if our upside, technically, is down? Wouldn’t that make oodles of sense since all the life we’ve ever known has acted upon an urge to rise?
  • The seed which sprouted this ongoing (and fairly elastic) realization was planted in late November, 2017. 23 months later, hello, (late) October, 2019. No clue whether the timeline is relevant; mentioning just in case. Not everything can should be up to me, you know?

Anyhow, poor Michell.

Math stops adding up at event horizons because they are collapsing. Can you see how we latched on to the tragically perfect term “hole”? It’s dark and round and we can’t see in there.

What happens when accelerating “dark matter” collides with a spinning ring of fiery photons?

I suppose what’s “next” comes immediately (if you read on).

By the way, isn’t it bonkers that the scientific community—or anyone, actually—has yet to solve dark matter even though we named it precisely what it is? It’s dark matter; that is to say, a mass of (hydrogen) atoms too heavy for light. D’oh!

Now comes the utmost truth(s), the nth eureka(s) contained within this entry, the final pieces of the (astro)physical puzzle(s): if suns are viewed as factories that convert hydrogen into helium, then black holes dark orbs must be the opposite, tireless machines that handle the gravity-energy conversion.

There’s a pretty solid chance you (will) have no idea how monumental this epiphany may be(come). It’s funny. It answers everything.

And there’s more. As a body emotes energy in an effort to matter, light turns into consciousness by filtering through brains.

A dark orb “hungers” for light but (physically) can only consume matter, which generates the force called gravity and inspires the power known as energy, which becomes emotion.

Energy, people. Energy is EVERYTHING.

Emotions tell us what we need. Everybody needs (to) matter. The “eternal desire” would seem to be capturing light. And we’ve got “nothing” to lose. Let us be already.

Queen [Freddie] knew. “Nothing really matters. Anyone can see.”

Nothing really matters.

many

When the mass of a black hole becomes so immense that its gravity measures inversely proportional the speed of light, that’s when I have to assume that a primordial ball of metallic matter could start the distribution of a galaxy.

When the mass of a black hole becomes so immense that its gravity measures inversely proportional the speed of light squared, that’s when I have to assume a rather big [quantum] “Bang” would occur.

I shall stop momentarily, but this shit’s important.

Recognize, okay?

I may be the most impressive specimen to ever roam the earth, but I need your help.

This is me begging:

“Please.”