I'm not especially intelligent or wise. If anything I'm rather average for my time... There are people out there who can write everything novel to find in this FAR BETTER than I could ever hope to. I know many people who believe many of the same things, all that this has to say even, but couldn't bother themselves to articulate them somewhere less ephemeral.
For what it's worth... you're here. You might think I'm exceptional for being the only one that's left. This piece might be all that remains of a once thriving community -- or even my species. It's possible, albeit unlikely, that this will outlive the satellite enscribed with "Sheila Rogers" floating about 35,000 kilometers above me. My strong doubt might be all that gets canonized.
Imagine somewhere, safe up above, as the world burns...
Sheila Rogers
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At some instance, in the future, maybe your present... this might be the only evidence of "Dark Was The Night" by Blind Willie Johnson baked into the mereology of THE ENTIRE UNIVERSE. If it had to be one, and one and only, then I hope this was worth it. I doubt it. I like what other people make better than I like my own work... but I might just be crazy. My doubt might be what makes this good... what makes me wise somehow.
Socrates, over 2,000 years ago, was famous for apparently "knowing nothing". He's been labeled as a profoundly wise sage -- a messiah to some. There were philosophers that came before him, bickering between all being fluid or structured, or some mix of the two... but Socrates took everyone to task until they'd feel as clueless as a supple newborn child. They poisoned him with hemlock.
Hemlock, in its right time and place, in the right quantity, is actually a medicinal herb. It may have been used to treat things ranging from seizures to whooping cough and asthma... but now it's mostly known as a poison. Too much of a good thing in the wrong place is usually all that people need to see before they start calling things evil. Even if it's in the right place... the dose might be the poison.
I think that our human brains are some kind of prediction algorithm. They've probably evolved to do guesswork just good enough to sustain and reproduce... not necessarily good enough to be factual. It might be factual by accident somehow. In that sense we're all living in individualized simulations, where all of life it doesn't matter if we all share a hallucination... so much as it helps us survive.
God might be a shared hallucination. Meanwhile there might be a God or gods existing alongside our preconceptions... Each ostensible instance of God may be the psychic projection of one's own superego. The purest intention within us all, exercising what it's willing to do if ALL were suddenly possible. Ego is what engages with systems; what translates the fantasy into results. Id reaps the results as a distinct system itself.
I believe that God exists, and that there's no evidence of God to find in any part of any mereology. The WAY by which God exists is something fluid in my mind, as a notion subject to change at any moment, but it's possible I've never been wrong about any way. If we're here and infinite satisfaction isn't in our place... wouldn't it be fitting if we must manifest God as irrationally as God manifests us?
(Excerpt from part 37.)