I honestly try to wrap my head around sheer randomness as the force behind everything and I actively cannot concieve of the idea. It doesn’t make sense to me.


God is color.


All I am is my awareness of myself as myself.


If two unchanging objects stood in a vaccuum and that was all of the entirety of the universe…would any time ever pass? Perhaps one might be able to measure in seconds…but this only has any meaning to us who have contrived of the concept of time and measuring it. I get baffled when I try to think about events and where they are. This visceral experience of my family sitting around a table, laughing, talking…and then vanished into some vaccuum of space…the sudden nonexistence…where do moments in time go? Where do they all reside together under the silky sky of time?


And what is this idea of objective reality? Of the “actuality” of what’s “really happening”…what does that even mean? On what level? On a microscopic level this is happening, and on a chemical level something else is happening, and on the experiential level of me I am experiencing the blue of fading sky and on some universal level a thousand things are happening at the same time and on what level does time match up?


It’s this inevitable quest for the invisible.


And there’s seeing, this filter and this definition…but where is the isness? Where is the whole me? At what poimt in time am I the all of me?


Perhaps there are three parts to me. To all of us. The machine, the human and the divine. The genetic code of my assemblance of neurons and structures filling my brain…and then somehow miraculously, this active force which acts upon my brain to say yes or no or more….and then beyond any great words…some essence. Something which is all of me, all at once. Something which is my intuition…something beyond logic…the part of me that loves, that drives desire, and that unconditionally loves with something base and undefinable.


To me, randomness and chaos seem the surest sign of the divine. Our human desire for order, for logic and for sense…and then something within the universe which merely acts on whims? Or perhaps even, less than whims…something inconceivably free…that is mystical.


If intention exists…then we are living in a magical universe. If not, we are all robots acting on the programmed orders of our brains….and yet, where did the program come from? Randomness? What does that even mean? Randomness is still SOMETHING. It is still a force in itself. And it seems to me that there is an awful lot of seeming in this universe. The elegant illusion of space, time and the macro-levl unfolding of the things which appear before our eyes.


The fact that we DON’T know everything is the surest sign of the mystery. Is the creation of the mystery. Is the meaning of the mystery. Is this mystery itself. And as long as there is mystery in this universe, as long as there are holes to wonder through, letters to arrange, mathematics to uncode or invent….as long as there is the continual birth of


Otherwise we live in a deterministic universe that is acting on the puppet strings of banal cause and effect. It seems to me, in fact…that materialist, deterministic thinking would imply the greater design simply running its course…whereas the concept of randomness or chaos would be, in fact, the concept of miracle, divine intervention…that mutations would be magic…that flaws and deviations from the great programmed design would be wonderous. Everything and everything and everything. I believe in everything. And everything…in and of itself…is a miracle…because of the fact that something in the universe can CONCIEVE of the fact that it is miraculous.


Because I cannot disprove my faith.


On both sides of the spectrum, the universe is a blur…the quarks and the whole thing…the colors come in right at the middle…where the little breathers percieve the bright blue essence of a stream of light above their heads.


I believe in a myraid of forces.


Chaos is still a force. I believe in connected chaos. Maybe we see the connection…create the meaning…see the signs we want to see…but yet we still SEE them…and at what point are they not real? Because WHERE is the ultimate reality? The one that is more true than what I see?


But the truth of the matter…is it comes from what I feel. From what pounds inside of my flesh and tickles through my bloodstream and batters inside of the airy space of my chest. I feel it in everything…it is the everything we are. It is love. The existence of love is all I’ll ever need to live.


And tonight and today and every breath, my world is pasted passionate colors of the family of loves that have come to sit on my shoulder, rest on my breath, and believe me back into the world of others that look just like me, but can breathe from a beautiful other mouth. The infinite us we are. I love every sound of becoming a being.  


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