Narrow Road to the Interior
Four Seasons in One Day
Mother Nature laughs out loud. Life is forever. I’m past the point of no return. Instead, I’ll concern myself with the best way of moving forward.
Mindless Purity
Putting the odd back in God, I recall: Before, "Norway Earth Goddess" was just a yuppie salad dressing at Whole Foods. I never thought people died—they just went to organic health food stores. And that Japanese guy who always wins the hot dog eating contest? Clearly, the antichrist.
Today, as I kayak in the fjords, I observe the sun, the water, the green—all in perfect flow. I whisper to myself, “Yes, indeed, all this belongs to me.” But more than that, I realize I play a role in its appearance.
A Glimpse of the Universe
In fleeting moments, I catch a glimpse of the deeper, random chance encounters of my "3-pound universe" (my brain). Mother Nature and Father Time are no longer external forces but mere facets of my subjective consciousness. This realization feels immortal.
Epiphany
The epiphany strikes: Old-school selfishness says, "I am the center of the world." The New World Order whispers, "I create the world." Space and time aren’t objects—they’re tools my brain uses to arrange reality. Without "me," they don’t exist.
Father Time doesn’t end; he simply reboots. Like turtles carrying their shells, we carry space and time within us. Without mind, matter doesn’t "matter"—it hovers as waves of probability. There is no absolute grid independent of thought.
Conclusion
Though our bodies self-destruct, the 20-watt fountain of energy in our brain doesn’t vanish at death. Instead, Father Time restarts the cycle. The universe resides not outside us but within. What the bleep?
