Hjarloprillar wrote:The direction is .. god is alone and craves another to chat with over a cup of tea. thus direction. you dont 'make' real minds.. you let them become God is just like you or me ...A guy in a slightly worn tweed suit. An engineer philosopher. He is alone. terrible alone
****** LONG POST WARNING ******
TEN TO THE MINUS FOURTY-THIRD OF A SECOND
(by Vera -- my wife and best friend)
I...
... feel.
Mass, pressure. Matter. I contain and encompass matter as it also consists of an confines me.
Awareness. Thought. Words.
I am. I exist.
Outside Self is Void. I have Sight and yet I do not see. There is nothing to see. There is Nothing. Darkness. Infinity.
I am the only Mind.
Has it always been so?
No. I remember. Before eternity, I was and yet not I: different, less. Alone, as now, but not bereft as now, for I did not then contemplate eternal solitude. Because I expected... Did I expect, or merely intuit? I hoped for Another. I remember waiting. Countless eons of waiting. And then, and finally, the Other came.
Whence? From nothingness?
Infinity was different then: not empty. There was Chaos, not Void. Light, as well as Darkness. Dimension, distance. It was good, I think. It was out of Reality the Other came. To meet me.
We knew. Not immediately, at first glance: we began in mutual ignorance which nonetheless contained a sweet familiarity. We gave and received thought, recognition. And recognizing, loved. And loving, embraced. That embrace included everything: I, the Other, the universe merged - into the One which is the present I.
And there was sleep and waking: a Cycle.
Loneliness.
I wake to sorrow. Loss. It is not good.
I desire an end to loneliness. I wish that consummation once again, even if sleep must follow.
Do I have Choice? Is it possible to alter what is?
If I have the attribute of preference, surely choice, too, is in my constitution. That which I am capable of wanting, I should be capable of attaining. Matter can be felt: does it follow that matter can also be affected?
To whom do I speak? No answer. Am I addressing only myself? Or Thee, my unknown friend - mate, companion, completion - for whom I so yearn; who must come to me in the fullness of time.
There is no time, only eternity. Yet I remember what has been and question what may be. I have words of time: now, always, before, hereafter. That which is possible to name is possible.
In Time, there can be Motion. Motion is change.
I can conceive of Time. I am therefore able to engender Motion. I contain all that is capable of movement. If I move, everything changes. If I stretch, matter must expand. If I shrug, this dense and heavy mass will shift, fall away and free me of its burden.
Freedom from, I understand. But free to... what?
Matter is the fabric of my being. In disrupting it, should I also derange myself? Will there be Pain added to my bereavement?
Can I bear it?
If matter dissipates in randomness, will Mind also dissolve in Chaos? Are my thoughts a function of my substance or something apart, transcendent? Would identity, spirit continue beyond extrication from Mass?
I have slept and awakened. After the Consummation and the Sleep, I am in possession of my faculties: self-awareness, thought, sensation, power. Is it then possible for me to cease?
I am all, yet I do not know all.
I cannot know my limits, but by testing them.
Death.
This is a concept more abstruse than Time, more fearful than Pain, fully as awesome as eternity. I do not want to die. Am I sufficiently unhappy to attempt change and risk annihilation?
Life is Order. If I am to survive... if my mind is to remain intact through a rearrangement of matter, that rearrangement must be founded upon a Plan. If mind is, as I have postulated, truly distinct from matter and has pre-eminence, then...
Will.
If I am able to impose my will upon matter, then...
I can order Chaos, separate light from darkness, lift being out of nothingness. I can organize matter; divide it into parts, portions, particles: I can build from it, mould it, fashion it according to my need. With the power of my Word, I can...
Create.
Out of matter I can call forth Life, mind, sentience - an entity: a companion. Would that be good? Is that my preference?
Yes!
I shall form a likeness of myself, breathe life into it, and thus create a man. But first, I should prepare him room. Yes, I shall put a great disc into space, a firm rock for the man to stand upon, overarched by a heaven, in which I shall hang a dazzling golden fire for Day and dimmed lanterns at Night. By these lights shall man know the passage of Time. I shall smooth the ground at his feet and cover it with soft vegetation and make the breeze that touches his skin fragrant and warm - for this creature will be fine and fragile, in need of tender care. I shall make beasts to browse upon the land and flying things to populate the air: birds, fowls, butterflies. There shall be water, and to enliven the waters, I shall create fishes, serpents, tortoises - a wondrous diversity of animals that walk and swim and slither and flutter. And all these things, yea, even the grasses and the trees, shall be fruitful and multiply. When I have set Man in the midst of this garden, I shall make another of his kind, for it is not good to be alone, as I am. I shall give Man dominion over the beasts and the fowls and fishes and let him name the creatures that dwell upon the earth. For sustenance, he shall have figs and honey, corn and milk, all that is good to eat. I shall create him - them - with eyes to see and senses to delight in my bounty. Then I shall teach him my bidding, that he should please me. I shall love my creature - and the woman, also, though perhaps not so much. They will never know hunger, fear, pain or grief. They shall be happy always, and good.
Is it enough?
No. To be a fit companion for me, man must have mind separate from my Mind and will that is free of my Will. I shall give him an attribute akin to my own: the power to distinguish good from not good. Evil. Yes, I shall put an evil thing in the garden: one tree, the fruit of which will be forbidden, and allow the man and woman to decide their own fate. If they disobey and choose wrongly, I shall punish them. They shall know hardship: with the sweat of his brow will the man wrest his food from the earth; in pain will the woman bring forth her young. And having ensured the continuance of their kind, they shall die.
But, if I love them, to witness their suffering and death must surely hurt me also. I should prefer to save them, even if they incur my Wrath. I should open to them a way to appease me: some offering through which they and I may be reconciled. Disobedience, resulting in want, pain, loss of life, generation after generation - with yet a faint hope of life restored. The sojourn of mankind upon the earth thus would be endless drama, endlessly absorbing.
For them. And for me? A small uncertainty: will man succumb to the temptation I put in his path? If I wish it, how can he resist? And, having fallen, will he at last make restitution? If I supply the sacrifice and put the knife ready to hand, how can he fail? There is, after all, no real question. Poor mannikin! Such a being can never fill but a minute fraction of my vast loneliness.
Then I shall produce, not one creature, but many. Thousands, millions! Constellations of angels in samite raiment, with shining faces, who will sing in clarion voices and glorify and abide with me. Will that please me? For a while, I think. In the face of eternity, a very short while. All too soon, meek adoration would grow tedious. It would require passion, conflict, suspense to hold my attention. When the hymning palls, I can divide the angels into factions, sow acrimony; pit legion against legion, each with its named supreme commander: a Prince of Darkness, a Sun-king; a nurturing Mother, a Father of Lies; a champion of harmony and a defender of discord.
I can make Titans, daemons, incubi; spirits corporeal and spirits of aether. Deities who might, in their turn, create lesser beings. Tiny amusing sprites, ponderous juggernauts; chimerae and dragons; nightmares, monsters and faeries; life-forms composed entirely of stars, entities of trailing shifting, gas.... I can populate reality with so much Life that I shall never want for entertainment.
And yet...
Is it diversion that I seek? Or love?
Intimate with their every particle, originating all that drives them to action, could I ever find creatures truly pleasing? They would be capable of fear, of awe, of worship... but could they ever love me as I Love? Would I be less alone, though I fill a thousand thousand universes with beings so paltry? Though I create uncounted multitudes, I should continue solitary.
I desire, I want, I need, not imitations of my self, feeble reflections, playthings; not to manipulate fragments of cast-off matter, but to encounter Someone.
How?
Begin at the beginning.
Matter must, by its very nature, my Nature, contain: Order and Chaos, Dark and Light, Good and Evil, Being and Nothingness. If I disburden matter, it will move. Motion is change. The change brought about by such an upheaval might proceed in ways I have not willed; might produce results I cannot predict. If I set Everything in motion all at once, it may shatter into particules, divide and separate, collide and coalesce, repel and attract, resolve into elements: earth, air, water, fire and more, which I have not begun to name. Left to itself, what may matter achieve? Universe, universes, dimensions, bodies and spaces, world, worlds.... So many kinds of life may arise, unplanned, uncontrolled: flourish and fail; struggle and mature; live out their span and leave behind progeny that is like and unlike themselves. Somewhere, somewhen, a yet unguessed, unthought-of entity might form, know itself, crawl and walk and look up; understand and feel lonely and yearn - at last - for me, as I desire it. The one who comes out of Self but is non-Self, different: the Other. My companion, my completion.
Imagine!
No. I have imagined too much. I have imprinted words, forms, sentiments upon a portion of my fabric: predestined it to play out these conjectures. It cannot be destroyed. In wishing for mere entertainment, have I already doomed my most cherished purpose? Is the future tainted by this unworthy dream? Perhaps not: it was but a brief notion; little substance is compromised. Shall I set it apart, and keep the rest pure? Or shall I refrain from the last temptation?
I must think no more, lest my words influence all that begins, all that may evolve. I must not will, but only wait and hope.
Have I decided, then?
Yes. I shall, I must, attempt, not a created, ordered universe, but an unknowable event. I shall, I must, risk pain, diffraction, even the loss Consciousness. I shall, I must, chance everything, for Chance is the only possible means to the ultimate Good.
Then:
Let it be.