Everything that happens is happening right now.
If you look carefully, you can see the same things happening again and again.
Someone reaching out to another. With an outstretched hand or a kiss.
Fishes melt into faces. Angels fly into (spider)queens.
Everything is reaching out to everything else.
All at the same time.
Are we all the same thing?
On those occasions where I’ve lost touch, I’ve seen two opposing forces, or at least contrasting.
Seperate, or at least they appear that way. But in fact, everything is in the edges.
Flashes of existence, splashing into being moment by moment, precisely as the two forces make contact.
Oscillating wildly, the two crash and brush into each other. Merging, lighting, colliding and separating.
It’s an explosion.
But each of those crashes is actually a universe. An entire, static universe.
The illusion of persistence is caused because we can never see that in between. There’s always, often something in between.
But it’s not real being. Not in this sense.
So we just see this blur of reborn universes. Fragments shattering into each other.
And we create a life where it all flows gently forward. It all makes some kind of sense.
Even when presented with something like chaos, we build a story.
Is that a tongue?
Is that a breast?
People seem to be spilling into each other. Flying and morphing into each other.
This is probably a good thing.
I can’t tell if that one bird is all on it’s own, or if it’s part of the strange slug bug superhero underneath.
Standing on his back, or extruded from his behind. And whose the shady looking yellow minotaur, resting upon the bar in the brain of the guy with the flowers pouring from his eye.
Lean back and relax, watch the seagulls whirl around the outside. Try and ignore the chicken.
There’s lots going on in even the tiniest space.
There’s a fractal nature to it.
Those two forces, contacting each other chaotically.
A fine line between, shifting and swirling around itself.
If you gaze at that line, focus in on one point, then you just end up discovering more depth. Infinitely inwards. Each tiny fragment is as complicated as the whole.
So this is part of my own madness, but I think it’s something that is also strangely true.
There are strange things in the tiniest and simplest of places.
We are all one of them.
And everything is happening at the same time.
We split outwards, and onwards into the infinite, but it’s partly just another perception thing.
If we could see past time. See an extra dimension, and watch the now smear out endlessly in some brand new direction endlessly, we’d still be looking at the same thing.
Reality. Life. Our journeys.
They are all happening at the same time.
And really, yours and mine are. We wander in parallel, not just us but everywhere.
At the same time.
It’s a cosy, strange universe.
Image by Maria.
‘Illustration’ by Alex.