Chapter 21 – in which everything and nothing...

“You can’t call a chapter “in which everything and nothing”.”

I just did.

“Yes, but you can’t. It ain’t grammatical!”

Whyever not?

“You know why – you’ve got to say what...”

But I don’t choose to say what. I choose to say dot dot dot...

“And another thing, you’ve told us almost nothing about g-nome portal or Faery. Just the barest outline – a reading room here, another chamber there. This won’t do.”

No, it won’t. I was hoping you’d raise the matter.

“You were?”

Yes, you see, I’m not allowed to give information that you haven’t yet authorised.

“You what?”

I can’t give you more information than you yourself authorise. It means that until you’re ready to experience g-nome portal yourself, I’m only allowed to provide the bare minimum – just enough to keep story afloat.

“But whyever not?”

Well, firstly it would be a violation of your freewill right to know.

“Er... how so?”

Because the right to know is as much a right to not know – so if you haven’t yet chosen to know this for yourself then it’s impermissible for me to rub your nose in it, so to speak. You have the right to know whatever you choose, whenever you choose, but you have to make that decision rather than ask me to make it for you. Now, if I were to give you more information than you yet chose to receive, it would create an opposite reaction. It would cause a kind of informational indigestion. You see, the information I’d be giving you would get in the way of your own learning.

“Er... why’s that?”

Well, the learning process is multi-dimensional. It isn’t do “a”, then do “b”, then turn right and do “c”. It’s always happening on multiple levels, because you just happen to be multi-levelled and multi-faceted. So too much information can actually disrupt the natural learning progression. It makes you self-conscious and causes you to trip up, and so, somewhat frustratingly, I have to keep my mouth shut. In any case, you already have full access to g-nome portal and to Faery – you’re already fully qualified, you’ve already been there and done that, you just haven’t yet joined the dots so you don’t remember it.

“Now come on – that’s absurd. If I’d done it all, been to g-nome and Faery – I’d remember. I happen to have an excellent memory.”

You do – much better than me I’ll admit, but joining the dots is a little different in this context.

“How so?”

I’m referring to dot₃

“And, what of it?”

Well, there are three dots that can only be joined by accepting the isness of any given situation – like the chapter’s title “in which everything and nothing...”

“Yes – well I don’t see any isness in that – just a vagueness.”

Well, it’s a vagueness until you’re ready to pause and breathe the isness of be – in which everything... and nothing... and in the space between, in the thrice repeated point or dot, that is, one as much as it is three, in the obvious break in the flow of sense and meaning, either I-mind/what matters gets obstreperous, in which case there’s no going forward anyway, or it accepts that this is a quantum stream moment – a time to unfurl the faery wings and start breathing life into Mind that knows.

“Well I find it very frustrating, all this dot₃ stuff, and breathing. I’d much rather just have it pointed out in black and white.”

Which you can... and there are endless books that take you down that path, all providing food for thought – entertainment for the 3D mind, until you decide that you’d rather consider something else.

“Like what?”

Like Is.

“And how does one consider something as vague as Is?”

Mathematically. Logically. Magically.

“There seems to be something of a contradiction in your approach. Since when was magic logical?”

Since the birth of time – for “magic” here doesn’t refer to witches' spells turning sheep into frogs, but the magic of life, of creation, and the seemingly impossible yet, in fact, perfectly logical relationship between everything and nothing.

“There you go... It’s obvious to anyone that there can be no meaningful relationship between everything and nothing. They are opposites.  They can no more be related than fire and water. They cancel one another out.”

Yes, in a world without magic. But once you allow magic back into the equation, once you start factoring Creation back into the equation, then you find that your opposites are in fact working as perfectly together as muscles in an antagonistic muscle system, or as levers pushing and pulling together...

“So how, then, do you factor Creation into the equation?”

Fractally.

“Go on.”

Well, you start with 1 and 0.

“...!”

You know that you can’t explain Creation in terms of what is created, so you don’t bother trying to. Instead you say that Creation is the be all and end all, the 1 and the 0 inherent to anything within it, the alpha and omega...

“Ok, ok – no need to repeat yourself.”

Well, that’s it really. In a fractal universe Creation in omnipresent, is ongoing – every moment is arising from zero time, from Creation itself just as much as any other preceding moment. “Big bang” wasn’t a then, long, long ago occurrence. Whatever “Big bang” might be, it is as much a now occurrence as way back then.

“Is that all you have to say? Words that achieve nothing. Just words. “Big bang is happening now”. Ridiculous. I don’t see the universe being created in this moment. I see the results of it – of what happened billions of years ago.”

Yes. You see what you’re looking for.

“No, I see what is – to use your expression.”

Well, I appreciate the compliment, but pause for a moment and think. From what moment did the big bang occur?

“From the first moment of course.”

So there you have it. Big bang is that which causes the first moment, so in whichever way things are continuing to happen, we see lesser first moments all around us in this fractal universe. Each moment is a fraction of the preceding one. Time has never really been created at all, just further divided, and redivided. Likewise space. We are going from the first moment, from one, back to zero by subdivision, but that in no way explains the magical nature of Creation.

“Why do you insist Creation is magical? Why demean it, making it sound like a conjuror’s trick?”

Because the word magic, like the word gay, or the word rude has a true, original meaning. The word’s meaning is not altered by the fact that you or other’s choose not to adhere to it. Speaking mathematically I am compelled to use the word’s true meaning, regardless of public tastes or sensibilities.

“But you can’t speak “mathematically”. If you wanted to speak mathematically you’d have to use numbers, not words.”

Er... who says?

“Well, everyone knows words or open to interpretation. Numbers are not.”

This is one of your irrefutable truths I expect. But let me agree with you – words are indeed open to interpretation, and their meanings can change, but then you are using a fundamentally different word to the original.

“How so?”

Well, the original word was magical. It had a specific vibration, a specific meaning, a power and beauty all of its own. It was unmistakable. It was as clear as the number two is today.

“And what then happened? How come today we all use words differently?”

Well, we ceased to...

“What?”

There is no word to describe this. There are stories, however, such as the tale of the tower of Babel – how people stopped understanding one another. There’s also the tale of banishment from the Garden of Eden.

“Oh come on... you’re not going to say Adam and Eve were magicians who stopped using words properly and got punished by the Creator for bad syntax.”

No, I’m not. I’m going to say that eating the apple from the tree of knowledge gave them the kind of knowledge that...

“What? I wish you’d stop pausing mid sentence.”

It’s not a pause mid sentence. The tree of knowledge gave them the kind of knowledge that... as opposed to...

“As opposed to what?”

Yes... as opposed to what. Instead of them simply knowing what is as they had, they started knowing what is what, the derivative. It was object knowledge based on thing and form and substance...

“So you’re saying they stopped being magical because they were ensnared by knowledge that could be taken, owned, traded...?”

Well of course. It’s obvious really, isn’t it?

“Not necessarily.”

Well, before their knowledge was objective, before they took that which wasn’t theirs, they were within Creation itself, outside time as we know it. They didn’t think of it as magic, but from our perspective everything they were able to do was magic, because they were still within Creation – the zero time. It was only when they fell out of zero time into time that they found...

“Er... what did they find?”

Presumably what they’d been looking for. Let’s not assume that everything’s a mistake. Let’s not assume that we’re being punished. Let’s assume instead that, consciously or unconsciously, they’d been looking for an experience of life outside Creation, from where they could remotely view Creation, from whence they could catch a glimpse of how wonderful and amazing it is, not so much in terms of what they could do, see, or learn, but more in terms of what they could no longer do, see or learn.

“You mean the very negativity of their experience was going to show them more of Creation than anything positive they might achieve?”

Of course. How could you achieve anything positive from without the infinite life force, the ultimate oneness, isness and allness of Creation. Everything humans have done ever since – even the Sistine chapel, the Great Wall of China, the Pyramids at Giza, the library of Constantinople – these have all been parodies of the knowledge, perfection, magic of Creation that is contained within a single atom, a single grain of salt, a single drop of water – from which the entire universe can be created.

“But how would they learn in terms of negativity?”

In relief, of course. You see, fundamentally, neither they nor you have ever been for one moment truly separated from Creation. It’s a physical impossibility, in spite of Seem, in spite of everything to the contrary.

“But if we’re not separated...”

Had we truly been separated from Creation we wouldn’t know anything more. That would be it. Zero ad infinitum. The separation we have experienced has only been meaningful because at a deeper soul level, across the quantum stream, we’ve always remained within Creation, and this creates interference patterns, this enables us to sense and see what is not, what we are not, what we cannot... on and on and on. All our strivings, our struggling have been futile and doomed from the outset, and yet we have stuck to it, as poets of the absurd, as artists creating a most remarkable canvas – “the very much alive and majestic tale of not”.

“And to what end? Why would we bother?”

Why not? Do you think we had anything better to do?

“No need to be facetious.”

Am I being facetious?

“Yes, people don’t just head off on a wild tangent into the wastelands of human suffering and misery on a whim, because they had “nothing better to do.” That’s not how the cosmic mind works.

No, but the Cosmic mind doesn’t see it the way you do.

“No?”

No. As far as the Cosmic mind is concerned this journey into not has been one of Seem rather than substance. Remember, if we’d ever truly been separated, even for one brief moment, from Creation we’d have not only died, but ceased to have ever been. It’s that simple. There really is no show, no game without Creation’s constant involvement. The life force and consciousness that make all this real are not part of our material reality. They permeate it – diffusing through it as background radiation, in the same way oxygen diffuses through the lung wall.

“So if we’re still in Creation – then we never left the Garden of Eden... it makes no sense.”

Correct.

“So it must be wrong.”

Correct.

“Well how can they both be correct if you assert that we never left Creation.”

“It must be wrong” you said – that has to refer to the it of itness.

“And what, pray tell, is the it of itness?”

Oh, this digitised version of reality, where we're never quite on the curve, where Creation is always somewhere over there.

“I don’t think hundreds of billions of years ago can be described as “somewhere over there”.

No, you don’t, but space and time are relative – it really matters not whether Creation was a hundred billion years ago or a billionth of a second ago – the two in truth amount to one and the same. Fundamentally, you see, in terms of Creation itself, there is no time, nor can there be.

“Oh.”

Which is how it’s possible for you to be in Creation and not. In time you’re definitely outside Creation, stuck trying to swim back onto the receding wave, and it can’t be done. Outside time, in the isness of Be, you’re up there on the wave enjoying the experience of being what not...

“What not? – I wish you wouldn’t. You know these expressions mean nothing to me.”

But... I see. Then forgive my...

“Your signal’s breaking up. Hello?”

Sorry, I got a bit bogged down in thought. Yes, “enjoying the experience of being...” without needing to say what or not.

“Ok, why does the timeless me enjoy the experience of being when I’m stuck here on a downer, watching the wave of Creation receding and trying to get back onto it?  Isn’t that cruelty.”

Yes – were it not for that the fact that you are You. You never stopped being both. But by agreeing to bog yourself down in knowledge of thing derived from the apple, it’s created a degree of Separation that’s enabled You to experience Being as opposed to simply being, and all the not and negativity in your life is what makes this possible. Without it, without the negativity of your existence and our reality, we’d pop back into Self, we’d collapse the marvellous experiment, the game of life.

“Oh please. This is no game. There’s suffering all around the world. Please don’t refer to it that way again. It makes me...”

Yes... and paradoxically, that’s precisely how you keep it going.

“Keep what going? I’m not keeping anything going. I’m just trying to live.”

This dear reader is a laughter and tears moment. For those of you who prefer to avoid such laughter and tears moments it would be best for you to leave the room. Perhaps put on the kettle. Make yourself a coffee. Have a biscuit or two, but the rest of us are going to have to fall back into helpless laughter, mirth and merriment, as the wave form of what not collapses back into Is, and all of  a sudden we find ourselves in Faery...

“Oh great – you mean the moment I go out to make a cup of coffee is when you finally reveal Faery to everyone else. That is despicable.”

Come on Jude, there’s nothing I or anyone else can do about it. These things happen at a quantum level.

“But couldn’t you have warned me? Couldn’t you have given me a clue?”

Jude. Ask the readers. They’re in on the act too. Half a dozen of them went off like you for refreshments. The rest stayed online and...

“Dot dot dot... I’m sick of it. Sick to the back teeth of your dodging responsibility, hiding behind your infantile dot dot dot, and Dorothy – I mean – how pathetic is that? Dorothy – some kind of wizard of Oz fairy godmother.”

Actually Dorothy wasn’t the Faery godmother. That was Glin...”

“You think I don’t know. Of course it was Glinda, but what does it matter.”

Ah...

“Your Dorothy – she’s just a figment of your imagination... she’s nothing... Nothing I tell you. Nothing.”

And so, beloved g-nomers, you see that Jude is biding time, but rather than berating him for being angry, consider instead the music of mood, the colours on the canvas of consciousness, and you’ll see how this moment of anger is in fact helping Jude to square his circle, to connect mathematically with a forgotten portion of his tale.

“... look, I’m sorry Gwynn, I don’t know what came over me.”

Gwynn is just a typical bloke like you or anyone else, but he’s at this moment completely unperturbed by Jude’s outburst, probably because he’s in on the act. It’s a bit like one of those TV shows where they set up a completely unexpected meeting between twins who were separated in childhood forty years ago, and you, the audience are waiting to see when the penny drops, when the emotions reveal themselves, when the two realise who they’re looking at.  Because Gwynn’s just staring into the water, feeling a bit calmer watching it flow past, when he notices it changing in consistency – and perhaps because of his recent outburst, or perhaps because he knows more than he’s letting on – whatever the reason – Gywnn doesn’t as habitually he would – mind what matters, nor does he try to explain what he’s observing – he just enjoys the sensation of watching and feeling, and sensing and moment, magical moment creeps up on him, so gently, softly, peacefully that he melts through the membrane wall of what not...

“Dorothy!” he yells with a look of pure delight on his face. There you are. And like a dog who’s overjoyed to see his master, Jude bounds up to Dorothy and throws himself into her arms.

Catastrophe is averted by a gentle quantum field of energy that smoothes and soothes the violence of his embrace, and Dorothy emerges a moment or two later looking elegant as ever, if a little ruffled in the feathers.

“Jude my dear, have a look in my magic mirror,” she says.

“Oh, why do you call it a magic mirror – it’s just a quantum reflector,” he answers.

“Yes,” she replies, “but we’re not afraid of magicky things and playfulness, are we...”

“No Mother,” he answers, and I know, dear reader, you’ll find this a little strange, but it’s a bit like the way people call a priest “father”. In Dorothy’s case, however, it isn’t a title as such, just a natural feeling that leads people to say this.

“So what do you see?”

“Oh... but that’s...”

“Impossible, is it not? There you are making coffee, missing the opportunity to see me, to catch up with Faery, yet here you are, and here you’ve always been... Let’s enjoy this moment out of time. You have a wealth of memories to catch up on and I think you’re going to find them worth the wait.”

Back down by the river Jude blinks when a fish rises for a fly.

“Ah,” he says, “I feel...”

“Yes,” Gwynn replies with a smile, “so do I...”