Is this all there is?
Did you ever think about what else there might be, beyond this universe we know?
Yeah, I know, that's a really big question, but more specifically: did you ever wonder how to access what might be beyond?
That's the riddle of the ages, of course, and despite nearly 10,000 years of human recollection, we still no have no ideas about whether that which is beyond exists, and if it does, whether we have anyway to experience it. Every mystic, every spiritualist, every psychic, every believer has sought these answers, yet we still don't know them.
For me, I imagine that part of the secret is that our senses, the mechanisms by which we perceive this world, are a distraction that can hide that which is beyond. We have become accustomed to their noise, the language of this world, and we are deafened to the primal sounds we once heard, the sounds of all the many beyonds, the many universes of our possibility. So I sit quietly, letting the noise of our world die down, attempting to recollect original senses to detect the whispers of the other realms. Its a delicate activity: it becomes easy for the senses I have known to muddle, and the world of the everyday to blur, blending into meaningless hum of fresh unknown. As if teetering on a precipice, will the world that I know, that I accomplish, come back to me when my experiment is done?
So the fear pulls me back, and I return to the noise and music and wind and trees and birds and traffic that fill my world. The sunlight ripples on the windowpanes at the back of my house, and I see again that which is. And that which may not be escapes me again.
Yeah, I know, that's a really big question, but more specifically: did you ever wonder how to access what might be beyond?
That's the riddle of the ages, of course, and despite nearly 10,000 years of human recollection, we still no have no ideas about whether that which is beyond exists, and if it does, whether we have anyway to experience it. Every mystic, every spiritualist, every psychic, every believer has sought these answers, yet we still don't know them.
For me, I imagine that part of the secret is that our senses, the mechanisms by which we perceive this world, are a distraction that can hide that which is beyond. We have become accustomed to their noise, the language of this world, and we are deafened to the primal sounds we once heard, the sounds of all the many beyonds, the many universes of our possibility. So I sit quietly, letting the noise of our world die down, attempting to recollect original senses to detect the whispers of the other realms. Its a delicate activity: it becomes easy for the senses I have known to muddle, and the world of the everyday to blur, blending into meaningless hum of fresh unknown. As if teetering on a precipice, will the world that I know, that I accomplish, come back to me when my experiment is done?
So the fear pulls me back, and I return to the noise and music and wind and trees and birds and traffic that fill my world. The sunlight ripples on the windowpanes at the back of my house, and I see again that which is. And that which may not be escapes me again.
