Det følgende er skrevet på engelsk, da jeg bedre kan artikulere mig på engelsk, når de kommer til sådan noget som det her. Forhåbentlig finder folk det ikke prætentiøst, det er slet ikke meningen.
Det kan være at nogle af jer syntes i har hørt noget af det før, det er inspireret af en række bøger og andre tænkere. Det her er bare et forsøg på at artikulere det selv, og jeg tænker at det måske resonerer med folk herinde. Det lægger sig også ret meget op ad den sidste tråd jeg lavede herinde om individer, for noget tid siden. Uanset om det resonerer eller ej, så håber jeg at folk har lyst til at snakke om sagerne.
Nok af det, værsgo:
When the universe came to be, was it something that started expanding, or was it nothing contracting? Did light appear, or did darkness go away? Did something start, or did something stop? Can it even be said that some thing was doing something, when what we speak of when we use the term universe, is the all-inclusive manifestation? There is nothing, no thing, besides it.
Is a thing not something that we have defined? It takes thought to understand a thing, and so it takes a thought to create a thing, but is the thought the thing? No, it's just a reference, a linguistic convention, it's a tool! It's a mental barrier, a pigeon hole for a small, arbitrary selection of life. A thing is an idea.
How does one define a thing? Where do you draw the line? A horse is a particular thing, we know it as an animal, it's alive, unless its made of plastic. It has 4 legs, it eats grass, it has fur, it has eyes, and so on. But just like I cannot say whether the universe was something that began or something else that stopped, I find it equally hard to definitively say where horseness starts and horseness stops. How many hairs must a horse have? When it dies, when does it stop being a horse? When it has rotted away maybe? But the atoms and energy that constituted the horse doesn't go anywhere, where would they go? All the energy is conserved completely, it simply becomes less organized. The horse will eventually make the flowers grow, so horses are flowers now? How much the of the flower is horse? What about the horse that is in the flowers, when the flowers rot and turn into, well maybe a horse again?
No, this is getting circular very fast.
The skin of the horse, does it keep the insides in, or the outside out? Well it seems fairly intuitive that it must do both. It's the inside and the outside! The skin is what allows us to draw the line between the horse and everything around it. But if that is so, does the skin define the horse, or the surroundings? It defines both, by the sound of it. So the skin is it's surroundings?
That's mighty inclusive, where do the surroundings stop? Does it go beyond the grass the horse grazes on? Is the sky the limit? But the sky is followed seamlessly by space, and it contains planets, solar systems, and well, everything. That's no definition. Surely at least there is an inner barrier though; you have the organs, the cells, and the atoms that make out those, and the particles that make out those, and the even smaller particles that.. Oh.
The whole universe is hardly much of a definition of a horse, in fact that seems altogether very self-defeating. But what is it then? I can't put my finger on a horse, literally. If I can't do this with horse, what does that mean for everything else? Is everything else also everything? That makes no sense, such a state can barely even be articulated.
If I am everything, my monitor, my chair, my house, my street, my town, the people in it, the planet, the stars, the galaxies, the beginning, the end, the light and the darkness, well then frankly I am at a loss for words. I really do not know, what to say. Words cannot possibly do this justice, for they are definitions, and they are not possible around here.
Words could never say anything about what I am, for it doesn't speak of reality, even though it is a part of it. It is a closed system, one that is easy to get caught up in, if it is never made clear that it is just a system. There is no subject for there to be a predicate. There is no you and me, no inside or outside, no friend or foe, no black and white, all of these are symbols of symbols of ideas, black scribbles on a monitor that come out as funny sounds when we say them, but what they mean is not meant to be taken seriously.
There only is this, and there is nothing to say about it.
Bare for at gøre det klart med det samme; Jeg er ikke religiøs overhovedet, selvom jeg får det til at lyde som om at både du og jeg er gud. Ignorer det, med mindre du faktisk mener at du er gud, så vil jeg godt høre fra dig! Lol!
