I saw the objective reality for the first time. It was June, and I was sick with flu, really sick. It often happens that in such moments of physical pain it all becomes clear. Since then for the next seven years I’d seen reality reveal itself in its entirety, until the very bottom of me, and beyond. I still am afraid of it, still afraid to look, but I’m still exploring it, and feeling its flow through me. It’s a struggling beauty. Relentless in its limitedness. I am tired, yet so much stronger. I finally am, in every moment. Confident in my feebleness. The key and the lock, the logical fabric of reality, never failing, as steady as our hope in God. It’s a limited God and it must suffice and it does, abundantly.
It’s a terrible experience to see it, disappointing, but also empowering my physical human being.
Toil indeed has become the essence of my existence in the last five years. I am physically often exhausted, but let my mind wander where almost no one else does. Sometimes I venture to the center of our galaxy, and once I was at the end of reality, which was the most scary fathom dreamscape. I was falling down what looked like a vertical ladder of Higgs fields horizontally aligned, lit with millions of swirling universes, and I was falling down along into the infinity.
I asked to see it. And something did show it to me, I presume it was also me. And maybe you, at the same time.
Speaking of time, where it doesn’t exist, black matter that composes the Higgs fields, fills it in, or rather in reversal thinking mode (the objective thinking mode instead of human thinking mode), the fourth dimension breaks down the fabric, tears it like a cloth, punctures it with pieces of black matter torn off of the fields during a clash between them. A universe is born. Or universes are born. One next to another, some clash, some merge, but rarely, rather parallel dance in unison. Separately, but close, being drawn back into the nearest fields, traveling with double to speed of light.
My human mind is a universe.