Hum
Is it working?
Is what working?
Your quantum er…
Huh?
Your quantum…
Yes?
What’s wrong with me?
Huh?
Why can’t I finish the sentence?
Sentence?
I…
Yes?
I
Er…
I
Hum
Oh...
Zie finally notices.
There you are Merry.
Yes.
I only just realised.
Yes.
You’ve been there all along –
haven’t you?
Yes.
There’s no moving involved,
really, is there?
Yes, not really, as in "no".
It’s all just a…
Yes
different way of seeing things.
Correct.
So er…
Yes?
What happened to the old way?
Of seeing things?
Yes.
I don’t know. Does it matter?
No, but what keeps me locked in
the new way of seeing things?
Oh that.
Yes.
Well, it’s like those 3D images –
the magic ones where you have to see the picture by shifting your focus.
Oh – so I can shift back.
Of course.
Suddenly Merry is back down on the
ground – no longer sitting on top of the flagpole, perched on a green cushion.
There – that wasn’t so hard, was
it?
But – you moved – didn’t you – it
was just a shift of my perspective, was it?
Correct.
Then what was it?
The chicken or the egg?
Oh, you mean there’s no way of
knowing.
Kind of.
So are there any limitations to
this moveability phenomenon?
Not that I’ve encountered. How can
there be?
Well – you can just be anywhere
you like, whatsoever?
What in fact is “anywhere”? All
places are the edge of me, are they not?
Er… I was of the persuasion that
places are kind of “here or there” but now that you’ve decided to unleash the
full oneness of Q, the eye of the beholder appears to have taken centre stage.
Right.
So what gives?
Huh?
Something has to give, doesn’t it?
How do you mean?
You can’t just have unlimited
inter-moveability, can you?
Er… why not?
Not without creating the next
great limiting factor.
Ah… I see what you’re getting at.
Well?
Well, it’s going to take a while
to arrive at the next great bottleneck on our journey back to All that is – the
oneness of i – the isness of be…
You mean you need to get everyone
else onboard?
I wouldn’t say “everyone else”,
but it’s a bit like a phase shift isn’t it. Until all the water’s boiling, or
all the ice has melted, or…
Got the message, thanks.
In other words – it’s not just
about moving location, is it.
I think this is where you’re about
to spook me out.
It’s about recognising that all of
us are one serpent.
One life form would have been
nicer.
Ok, one life form, happy now?
Back to the collective. I knew the
western cult of the individual was too good to be true.
Yes and no, the oneness happens up
there, doesn’t it – at the apex of the pyramid, if you will, while the other
parts have to maintain their differentiation, their distinguishability.
Well, whadya know – another nose
bleed of a paradox.
Yep. But it’s Ok – Q can handle
it.
Not sure I want to put my faith in
a letter, or a field which seems to be utterly uncontainable.
Actually, it’s a lot better than
it looks.
It is?
Yes.
How so?
Remember all that shitty stuff
that was happening – still is in places.
What, like genocide, world wars,
famine…
Yes, that’s it.
Can’t say I’ve forgotten.
Well, bear in mind that bad shit only really
happens at the extremities of matter-factuation.
Huh?
Where things are taken to their
logical conclusion – as inevitably they must be, where the boot sinks into the
mud. It’s like a projection onto a screen. Only real there on the screen
– but we never were, never really could be the projection – though it sure as
hell felt like it was real – paradoxically – in 3D.
And?
And that was one of the boundaries
that gave, no, that gives Q form and coherence in spite of nought.
Er…
The lowest common denominator, so
to speak. The bottom line. The matter of factuation – where things get thinged
– until they can thing no more, slammeth the door.
Er…
While on the other side of the
curve – what do we have?
Not too sure, Merry.
We have cre-a-tiv-ity.
Creativity?
Yup.
And?
And? You’re kidding?
And what?
Creativity is the quantum elixir –
the juice of Is – the anything goes – anything’s possible – nothing’s
unthingable when C, big C, gets rolling.
Ok – so we have creativity –
people invent things – build stuff – write stuff – paint pictures – what have
you – and?
And – view the C curve.
Are you sure it’s a curve?
That’s just the thing.
Huh?
It’s in real time – any time
whatsoever – and it’s a curve that is a wave, a plain, a spheroid, a toroid,
and God knows what else.
Er…
Whatever it takes to keep things
going.
…
Keep things alive.
To stop things collapsing under
the entropic weight of matter-factuation.
Ah. I see.
Finally!
Wow. The Field liveth, breatheth…
Yea, verily it Goddeth, so to
speak.
Indeed, apparently so. Kind of
hard to get one’s head around – after all – we may be creative but this is
taking it beyond googol.
Indeed. To infinity and beyond.
I never did figure that one out.
Me neither. Beyond infinity – kind
of like a double negative, isn’t it?
Yeah.
So, presumably that was the only
way we were able to engineer 3D – which certainly seems/seemed to be finite in
many respects.
Until you start unclipping the point
of observation and relocating any-which-where.
Any-which-what too.
Transmutation. Is that absolutely
necessary? It’s going to make me feel mighty uncomfortable.
I know, but Q requires
de-it-ification so there’s no helping it.
Damn.
Putting it another way – we’re on
a training curve – reactivating the heart space – where literally anything goes...
Only necessity’s going to really get things moving – and the need to shift
through all the times, places and forms which were off-limits to i-D.
i-D... As in?
The bottom line.
Er…
Where D=1, i=0 and 3 is expended
wholly in fixing things in place, rigidly – to matter-factuate without
exemption. None whatsoever – other than membrane permeation or
inter-dimensional leakage – kept to a bare minimum.
Too many variables. Merry! This is
doing my head in.
Absolutely – which is why we never
pay any attention whatsoever to explanations which try to enword what cannot
realistically be enworded. Let it go. Words are yesterday’s story.
And er…
Yes?
What realistically cannot be
enworded?
Anything whatsoever pertaining to
the isness of be – i.e. reality itself and our place in it.
But…
Yes?
Then we can’t realistically
explain anything whatsoever.
Bingo. Took your time, didn’t you.
Then what’s the point?
The point?
Of this – all these
pseudo-rational explanations of things – the grand malarky of things…
Well, no point, as in zero point –
as in – the point from whence all points are derived – which itself is not,
cannot be nor ever shall be a point – though it’s perceived as such from the
perspective of every other point.
So er…
Yes?
Zero point isn’t actually a point?
Correct.
But, er…
…
Isn’t that kind of – illogical?
Not at all. Strictly speaking it’s
entirely logical – unless you fail to take into consideration the event horizon
– which, in this case, collapses down to a single point – but could just as
easily be described as a horizon, or even a zero thickness plain.
Oh God.
In other words – just because
things can’t be explained rationally using language, doesn’t mean there’s no
way of knowing them; nor does it mean that we should give up attempting to do
so – for we can use means poetical, metaphorical or anecdotal to either convey
the underlying, simple or fundamental truth, or to help trigger a truth
awareness in our collocutor.
And you honestly believe that?
Why shouldn’t i?
Because we’re apparently talking
about infinity here, aren’t we, which rather implies infinitesimal chances of
success – if you don’t mind me saying.
Absolutely – but why do you assume
that an “infinitesimal chance” is necessarily small.
…!
Just because that’s how most
people in 3D interpret it. We just happen to be creatures of infinity, swimming
in a quantum field – or something of the sort, which cannot, by definition, be
less than infinite – so, it would appear that the infinite is the stuff we are
made of. No?
Ok – fair enough – but it still
looks highly improbable.
Absolutely – until you accept the
absolute – until you accept that things are never, ever what they seem – other
than apparently so – that in truth, or fundamentally, they are always directly
knowable as an isness – as the flipside of the isness that I, coincidentally,
just happen to be.
Merry – would you just take a deep
breath and allow us to stand on terra firma a minute or two.
Of course.
I don’t see people translocating –
or detaching from the field…
Wait a second – I never detached
from the field.
Ok, ok, an inertial frame – how
does that sound?
Better – though I’m not too sure
about all these self-referential science terms – they sound great until a few
years have passed and then they’re hopelessly antiquated. That’s why I prefer
to hide behind the green curtain of infinity.
Green? Why green?
Never you mind.
What I’m trying to say is that
your assertions and pronouncements are all very well, but in the real world
people are firmly planted in one location – and nor do they…
So many negatives in one so young
– comparatively speaking.
Stop dodging the issue.
Look – no one’s going to disengage
voluntarily until push comes to the shove – until there’s no other option.
So?
So, the planet Earth or whatever
it is that you take to be the Earth – ain’t going to last for ever in its
present form.
Give me a break Merry!
We could be talking about months,
weeks, or days.
Or likewise years, decades or
millenia.
Yes – but I’m inclined towards the
shorter term prognostication.
Why exactly, if you don’t mind me
asking?
No, not in the least. Q, the
Force, the Field grows stronger, does it not? The fact that we’re having this
conversation in the first place implies change is already in the offing.
It does?
Absolutely. In fact, by some
stretches of the imagination, it implies the change has already happened – but
the Field is somewhat elastic and therefore visibly we don’t see what inertia
is temporarily concealing. It’s a bit like the prescient writer’s phenomenon.
What prescient writers’
phenomenon?
Where writers tune into Q and
start revealing all kinds of stuff that people are blocking or denying –
particularly via children’s literature, sci-fi or fantasy – stuff that mentally
we ain’t aware of, but which in our heart of hearts we already know.
Er…
So now’s a time when the heart of
hearts, the seat of knowing suddenly comes to the fore, and starts taking precedent
over the things we believe to be true, the things we understand to be true…
which is what triggers a phase shift – and suddenly – it’s either do or die.
As in…
The point from which this version
of reality is constructed – this interpretation of the Field – suddenly grows
unstable and starts fissioning – in a kind of chain reaction – looking for a
new stable configuration which doesn’t exist – and won’t do so – not until
we’ve learnt to start flapping our proverbial wings and start engaging the
field from multiple points of reference – 293 for a start.
293? Why exactly 293?
Zie – bless you my dear banana.
?!
If you could feel or see what that
293 “number” actually represents or actually means when you’re frantically
flapping your wings – looking for a new equilibrium in a field which seems to
be bifurcating uncontrollably…
A hole seems to be opening up in
the pit of Zie’s stomach. At the very same moment he feels like he’s going to
fall off the edge of the world, into this hole, the Earth goes through a
decoupling – the programme which had been running smoothly, unnoticeably in the
background, apparently for millennia, rendering “reality” utterly convincing,
utterly apparently real – glitches, hiccoughs, suddenly becomes aware of the
293 base pairs which are no longer aligned. Chicken or egg – can we blame Merry
for this statistically inconceivable coincidence – or should we put it all down
to chance and the law of undeniability – that the minute we find ourselves
denying something to be possible or true is the minute when we first become
aware that we no longer have the unequivocal right to do so – that me evidently
protesteth too much.
293 – I could go into great detail
about the numerological significance of this number – but what’s the point?
There never were more than four numbers – were there? All the others were like
paints mixed together. Ultimately it boils down to a single unified force, a
single unified letter, a single unified number – which themselves boil down to
a barely digestible single unified pastille – and the universe ends when you
finally figure out that whoever starts sucking it – ain’t going to finish doing
so until he’s experienced every other variant of…
Finally it dawns on Zie that Merry
is not in fact speaking at all – and boom… Zie’s attention shifts from the head
to the other centre of attention which, apparently, has no difficulty
whatsoever streaming multiple channels.
Zie and Merry are both sitting on
top of flag poles – about a mile high each. Strangely enough neither of them
are unduly concerned. There is nothing particularly wobbly or precarious about
their situation. They’re having a series of conversations – without moving
their mouths – I hasten to add – in which the cosmic shuttlecock of contention
is struck back and forth – as they silently allow the universe to fill the
improbability of their situation with the no less improbable situation of a 3D
reality – far down below – which is no longer able to contain or sustain their
field’s flattened curve. Tis no cause for despair. Quite the contrary, Q, it
feels expansive and liberating. They are aware of multiple streams, multiple
levels of conscious-awareness flowing energetically between their relativistic
positions – and until it starts raining and they decide to notice that they’re
now under cover in a lavishly appointed Mughal yurt – presumably north of the
Tien Shan mountain range – though please don’t ask for anything more specific
right now – the Earth’s magnetic field is shifting erratically – and I’m going
to have to stop pretending GPS coordinates are anything more than guestimates.
I’m in love. Zie declares
unexpectedly.
Merry knows exactly what he means
– feeling the phase shift anatomically. Me
too! Wonderful isn’t it.
Zie’s barely able to articulate
anything – such is the power of his “love” – as his heart of hearts suddenly
realises that it is the centre of an all-encompassing, all-powerful love field
which spans the entire world and everyone in it.
Incredible, isn’t it Zie.
...
Zie?
Oh dear. Zie has vanished, leaving
in his place a rather unsightly puddle. Dark, treacly, bitumen. Smelling of roses,
not in the least. What could have gone wrong?
You fool. Merry
yells at the puddle furiously. What on earth are you playing at?
Noxious bubbles ooze from the puddle, glooping flatulently.
Thought you would put things right,
did you? Suddenly sensed the Messiah within? Is that it?
The oily surface seems to wince,
ashamed.
Can't say I blame you; we've all
been there: all experienced the same urgent desire to sacrifice oneself for the
greater good, which is, without a doubt, a noble instinct, but somehow doesn’t
smell so good in practice, and never seems to work out as planned.
Why not? The shade of Zie bewails
from the filthy ugginess of witch-oil-tar. I was only trying to help.
Trying to help? Merry shows signs
of advanced exasperation. Trying to help?! Thinking you can resolve the quantum
puzzle just because you’ve learnt how to sit on a flagpole? In any case, why on
Earth would you interfere in the precious, sovereign lives of other beings –
you’d deprive them of their own journey? Their own experiences? For what? You’d
shorten the way? You think the field can’t handle the math? Really?!
I…
You feel for the oldest trick in
the book – you’re needed – you’re the one – we can’t do it without you… Felt
important did you?
If a puddle could possibly look
like it wanted to crawl under a stone – that’s exactly how Zie’s icky blackness
now looks.
How do you think they managed to
create a reality of such twisted dimensions? By projecting evil? Give me a
break.
Huh?
Most people are appalled and
repelled by evil. The only way you could really subvert, really turn reality
into a living hell was by selling evil to well-intentioned do gooders as a
necessary, benevolent intervention. “They’re weak and vulnerable. They need
your help.” The ego immediately perks up, feeling special, in demand, the one
to put things right – and within no time at all the road to hell is paved,
beautifully, with golden flagstones of sincere, good intentions. Missionaries
going to Africa or South America to save the poor, benighted savages, doctors
introducing western pharmaceuticals, government employees inserting themselves
more and more into the private lives of private men and women, believing that
their top-down solutions would solve another dire social problem.
So, you’re just saying we should
do nothing to help?
Am I? Really? Is that what I’m
saying?
Er…
Wherever do you get that idea
from?
But you said that helping only
makes things worse – paving the path to hell.
Yes, I did – and so you’re trying
to extrapolate a rule from what I’m saying – a straight line or a curve to guide
your actions – like the rules and laws our public officials like to make.
Then er…
Ultimately, I don’t care in the
least what you do, and I don’t care if you want to spend the rest of eternity
as a malodorous black puddle. Now that you’re opening up the power of Q you’re
going to get better, faster feedback regarding whether what you’re doing is
beneficial or not – but Q, our beloved quantum field – whatever it really is –
is anything but rulable, anything but determinable – so any attempt to do so
merely determines that you’re still thinking the old way – and so, as long as
that persists, you’re going to have these rather splendid illustrations of the consequences
of your good intentions, the consequences of your energy decisions.
But…
Yes, but I chose not to.
I have finished what I was going
to say.
Ok, finish it if you must.
Er… couldn’t you have warned me.
Ditto.
Ditto? You chose not to? You knew
I was going to get splatted, didn’t you? And that was ok for you, wasn’t it.
Absolutely. What do you expect me
to do?
Well, taking a child across a road
for the first time – you’d normally hold it by the hand and warn it to look left
and right carefully.
Absolutely.
But you gave me no warning whatsoever.
Correct. You’re no child. At the quantum
level we’re dealing with infinity. No
amount of preparation is going to help. Period. The minor inconvenience of transmuting
into a stinking puddle of bitumen is, in many respects, the ideal starter to
get you better acquainted with the real dangers of assuming you can or should step
outside your personal responsibilities. You’re getting a massive amount of data
at many levels – even the highly specific smell which is currently assailing
your extrasensory nostrils is making you better aware of the nature of the what
you have unleashed.
The puddle groans piteously.
We’re not playing around Zie – it’s
welcome to the big boys league. But no – I had no idea you were going to
trigger this particular event reaction. That’s the beauty of Q…
Huh?
It never fails to surprise us.
Tears of helpless frustration and
self-pity steam from the surface of the oil slick. Merry says nothing – appears
to be meditating or just chilling, enjoying the moment – though a careful analysis
of the quantum field lines indicates that something is afoot, elsewhere – at a
deeper level of Is.
Memories.
Correct.
My God! Zie is re-experiencing
memories long since forgotten – intensely – every one of which in some way
connected with the stinky puddle lineage – everyone of which Zie is now able to
relive, re-experience in totality – feeling how he wove and created reality
itself by crossing his field lines, or energy lines with other souls – and each
time, no matter what the intentions were – pure, noble, selfish, grasping – in each
instance there was an element of unwarranted intervention – however slight. Not
a guilt trip – not at all. Just a re-experiencing, deeply, of how the field is
somehow spun into reality – with a little twist, a little projection of me on
others, a little tiny taking of what is not rightfully mine, or imposing,
however slight, my version of things… and thus the world wags, and thus things
are.
Having fun?
Zie notices Merry walking past his
tree.
I’m in a tree, he thinks, nonchalantly
– going back to his memories – going back to re-viewing in astonishing minutia
what he has been and how things grew thicker and thicker around him.
Neutrality. Nothing to prove. Nothing to be ashamed of. No anger. No despair.
Just observing dispassionately and releasing – let go the things that no longer
matter – no longer bind. And Merry – yes – he’s a part of this – why shouldn’t
he walk past my tree. And tree – huh? – what am I doing in a tree? Zie wonders,
and then the world returns in a flash. The stinky evocation of the oil tar. Zie
looks at his arms and hands in surprise. I’m back. I’m me. Light as a feather
he steps down from the tree – enjoying the sensation of almost flying – feeling
the quantum lines extending through him into past and futures – connecting him with
all and everything lightly, so lightly – yet somehow meaningfully.
0=1
Cuckoo la la
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