We all start like seeds in our mother’s soil.
Eggs are like seeds. So are planets really, bursting with roots of starved gravity.
Electrons are like seeds, the universe itself, spreading out from a mindbogglingly finite point of spatial dimension into this immeasurable, mystifying massiveness. Biology mirrors chemistry like a face in rippled water. There is a God. It was speaking to us in our anatomy long before it ever engraved a tablet or plagued a city. Clearly there is a loosely defined polarity to the universe, a general lightness and heaviness, a fiery push and gravitational pull, a female and male with all sorts of hybridized relationships in between.
The breeding we do just to exist as individuals, this is like a love letter written to us about how power transfers and expands itself within this universe. How much more important and potent relationship is than isolation and independence and general lone wolfedness. Enough so that plants even pretend to care about gender just to attract and entice us. It’s coupling. It’s power play. It’s essentially what happens at the heart of every atomic endeavor, as clouds of swirling electrons push and pull and shape and squeeze protons and neutrons between them, little bonds forming between things being stretched apart to the point of almost bursting and then held here, sustained, unlocking the energetic outpulse that engendered the universe and ultimately led to us: physical conglomerates sustaining projections of consciousness for sustained periods. Awake is something so difficult to do, it requires us to sleep half of every day, and eventually ages our bodies to the point of irrevocable exhaustion.
I believe electrons are seeds of consciousness. And I believe their nature is agriculture, cultivation, provocation, stimulation. They accomplish a sort of guided husbandry between fertile elements, measuring the couplings and overlappings that work against those that don’t. I believe we, our anatomy, our minds, our instincts, our entire way of life, are organized in a zombie-like obedience to the atomic relationships going on inside of us.
We see what they want us to see, and remember only what we need. And wouldn’t you know, the light learned early on the added benefits of keeping us in the dark.
We are so brilliant, and we are almost there, but essentially, we’ve calibrated our observational equipment around the assumption that we’re sitting still, measuring the movements of others, even on a base, visual level, when we see, we aren’t accounting for our own internal distortions. Objects appear larger in the mirror of self-image than they truly are. They had to, to get us to take our lives and labor here on earth devastatingly seriously. Enlightenment reduces the rate of survival for the organism that possesses it. They breed less, they’re less likely to fight to the death, less likely to be seduced by monetary gain and societal status. Knowing, not believing, or wishing, but knowing you are made of eternal material, really knowing that the life after death so many religions allude to is scientifically accountable. If you discard the seeds in every apple because that part isn’t sweet, eventually there won’t be anymore apples.
Your soul is the seed of you.
The sweet stuff and the tree stuff is too heavy to follow us where we are going. You are the voice of energy. You’re confused because you had to be. Knowing can be crippling. But there are depths to you far beneath your memory.
We are all the daydreams of electrons
born into reality.
I have a theory. I am a stupid man. The only understanding I have ever glimpsed has been peering through the prism of analogy. Big metaphor. Dense simile.
Electrons are matter-farmers.
Protons and neutrons only seem to exist in the center of a negatively charged cloud of frustrated energy, that has a pull, and a power, a gravity, and all existence as we know it, life especially, is a sort of sustained state of fusion. When we split an atom, the world will never forget what happens. Einstein theorized that if an entity could catch up to the speed of light, it would not necessarily feel like it was moving very fast, but more like time itself was standing still.
That’s consciousness. The materials you and I are made of are moving at the speed of light. The energy we call our minds is as well, slowed through organic tubes and carbon based wiring inspired by them, but to the speed of light, nonetheless. Energy is motion. It is movement. Our thoughts are happening at the speed of light, at the very speed limit of time, yet it feels like we are sitting still. Feels like we’re not moving at all. We quiet ourselves to the rushing of the wind and slowly our senses are invaded by the ever flowing headwaters that fill our heads, and bodies, and the timekeeper ticker zapped by brain lightning into hyper dutiful obedience, all the way to flapping eye covers and growing new hair and salivating and literally every single internal life saving organ function.