many worlds
If I have any kind of faith, that faith lay in the fact we are shells wrapped in meat. This vessel is meant to carry sea water upon the land so the ocean overmind can learn about the places where I can't reasonably explore. When we die our fluids evaporate, they are sucked up by animals and plants, or rejoin the watershed for the trek back to the ocean. When that vapor condenses, we precipitate back into the ocean and tell it our stories. It's thalassolatry. Someone probably coined that term before me, but I like to pretend I coined it.
Another part of my personal faith lay in parallel worlds, shifting between universes, and branching realities from life choices. When my back isn't hurting me and I can feel my wife's love, rather than her contempt, I maintain we (in the universal sense) are existing in the best of all possible worlds. We are bounded by billions of universes where the changes are teentsy-tiny. Perhaps a hydrogen atom on March 12, 2010 at 1:37 a.m. GMT was in a different state in a parallel world, in contrast with my world/universe. Should someone forge their way through a billion branes, they'll eventually encounter the worlds with noticeable changes like my friend Jaybird having heterochromia, or traffic lights are blue as Jimi Hendrix imagined in The Wind Cries Mary, or my friend Elbert pitching for the other team (ifyouknowwhatimean). Ford one's way through space/time through vigintillions of branes and one will eventually encounter the holy grails of "Hitler won", or "Jesus betrayed Judas to save his own skin", or Fidel Castro is in the baseball Hall of Fame for his performance during the 1963 World Series against the Dodgers.
BTW, that last bit I was writing by the seat of my pants. I took a moment to see who was involved in that particular world series and it was those two teams. I'm not even a sports guy. Weird!
This faith lay in doubt, as all faith does, about my surroundings. I maintain that I died while driving back to the east coast in November of 2009 when my car drove off a Pennsylvania highway into a valley. It's a vague memory but I am still here. What really happened was falling asleep at the wheel, nearly careening off, regaining control then pulling onto the shoulder to hug Spot.
It requires energy to destroy consciousness. It's remarkably efficient to transfer that consciousness one universe over. Each human being stands upon a mountain of their corpses from parallel worlds, facing the possibility they may increase its height. Only one will witness the heat death of the universe or the Big Rip. Our universe, by its nature, is lazy. My evidence? Entropy. Nearly every object in space being a sphere, a shape requiring little energy to maintain. How attempts to brute force phenomena are eventually depricated by an elegantly simple and efficient solution. Since it's faith, I won't argue for or against it. It's simply what I believe.
I also believe every time I trip on mushrooms, I enter a state where I can alter the world where I exist. Kinda like Tinder. Swipe left for The Man in the High Castle. Swipe right for fully-automated luxury gay space communism.
The last time I tripped, I wound up in the Trump universe rather than the Bernieverse™.
Next time I trip hard, I'm going to try and set things right. Even if it means lining myself up for an inevitable doom.
It's the right thing to do. Nobody deserves to deal with a paranoid, neurotic megalomaniac.
I already know I'm going to die. I already appreciate I promised the ocean in 2011 that it can drown me so my beloved father-in-law could live. The ocean hasn't taken me yet nor do I have any idea that it will collect in the future. I want my final act to be good for all, rather than just myself.
Another part of my personal faith lay in parallel worlds, shifting between universes, and branching realities from life choices. When my back isn't hurting me and I can feel my wife's love, rather than her contempt, I maintain we (in the universal sense) are existing in the best of all possible worlds. We are bounded by billions of universes where the changes are teentsy-tiny. Perhaps a hydrogen atom on March 12, 2010 at 1:37 a.m. GMT was in a different state in a parallel world, in contrast with my world/universe. Should someone forge their way through a billion branes, they'll eventually encounter the worlds with noticeable changes like my friend Jaybird having heterochromia, or traffic lights are blue as Jimi Hendrix imagined in The Wind Cries Mary, or my friend Elbert pitching for the other team (ifyouknowwhatimean). Ford one's way through space/time through vigintillions of branes and one will eventually encounter the holy grails of "Hitler won", or "Jesus betrayed Judas to save his own skin", or Fidel Castro is in the baseball Hall of Fame for his performance during the 1963 World Series against the Dodgers.
BTW, that last bit I was writing by the seat of my pants. I took a moment to see who was involved in that particular world series and it was those two teams. I'm not even a sports guy. Weird!
This faith lay in doubt, as all faith does, about my surroundings. I maintain that I died while driving back to the east coast in November of 2009 when my car drove off a Pennsylvania highway into a valley. It's a vague memory but I am still here. What really happened was falling asleep at the wheel, nearly careening off, regaining control then pulling onto the shoulder to hug Spot.
It requires energy to destroy consciousness. It's remarkably efficient to transfer that consciousness one universe over. Each human being stands upon a mountain of their corpses from parallel worlds, facing the possibility they may increase its height. Only one will witness the heat death of the universe or the Big Rip. Our universe, by its nature, is lazy. My evidence? Entropy. Nearly every object in space being a sphere, a shape requiring little energy to maintain. How attempts to brute force phenomena are eventually depricated by an elegantly simple and efficient solution. Since it's faith, I won't argue for or against it. It's simply what I believe.
I also believe every time I trip on mushrooms, I enter a state where I can alter the world where I exist. Kinda like Tinder. Swipe left for The Man in the High Castle. Swipe right for fully-automated luxury gay space communism.
The last time I tripped, I wound up in the Trump universe rather than the Bernieverse™.
Next time I trip hard, I'm going to try and set things right. Even if it means lining myself up for an inevitable doom.
It's the right thing to do. Nobody deserves to deal with a paranoid, neurotic megalomaniac.
I already know I'm going to die. I already appreciate I promised the ocean in 2011 that it can drown me so my beloved father-in-law could live. The ocean hasn't taken me yet nor do I have any idea that it will collect in the future. I want my final act to be good for all, rather than just myself.