There are no people, just vessels. But, I’m getting ahead of myself.
Imagine the vast universe. There are others of course. Simply created by our imaginations. But wait….
O.K. Einstein says that Time&Space are like a rubber sheet. He was trying to wrap that BleachedMopHead of his around the concept of gravity. Time&Space are a rubber sheet, and all massive objects are sitting on it. Warping it. like weights on a sheet of latex. Now you have a large object like an orange (Jupiter) sitting on that sheet and it pulls the sheet down. Drop a marble (Earth) on that same sheet, and of course it rolls to Jupiter. It’s matter of fact. If that marble was rolling onto the sheet from a distance and had a high enough velocity, it’s course would then just shift when it met the concavity of Jupiter’s influence. Maybe not enough to stop and hit Jupiter, but it would divert nonetheless. THAT of course is EINSTEIN’s gravity. But what the hell did that guy know? He was just a daydreaming clerk? How could a clerical worker grasp this universal yet hidden scenario? You would think that with a BRAIN like that, he would be doing much better…. I mean, WHERE did he get these IDEAS? OK.ok.ok.ok.
Listen. A sheet has 2 sides. That is in the fundamental nature of being a sheet. Even a rubber sheet, if you see what I’m getting at. But, whats on the other side of our rubber sheet of gravity? Wouldn’t YOU like to know.. he he? Another world? An anti world? Not necessarily. But evidently. What happens when one presses their finger into the rubber? A finger shaped bubble on the other side. A vesicle in the rough shape of it’s creator. But enough with the metaphors…
Ideas. Ideas live on the other side. Ideas are the fingers, and we are the vessels. You see our world is tactile. Our world is superior as far as I can tell. All thats over there is darkness, or maybe pure light. Hard to tell because of the frame of reference (or lack thereof) ya see. And these living beings that we know as ideas. Every idea. Forever and all possibilites. Every idea that has ever been had. Every idea that could ever occur is there. Floating around and just BEING. bumping into each other occasionally, but all the while KNOWING of our world. Like a surgeon donning his gloves, they DESIRE to effect our world. *[maybe the whole thing is THEIR creation, and they are just interacting with thier own experiment. We couldn’t tell from INSIDE the sphere. All frame of reference again.] So, an idea works up the courage and dedication for what its about to do. It presses. Into the very fabric between worlds. It pushes, and some other ideas see the event and some decide to join the push. (For being the first in any endeavor is the hardest, and other will come later seeing that the uncharted has already been tested. And being inspired subsequently will want to join in.) This group of ideas pushes the sheet into a vesicle. Just like a finger into a latex glove. This vessel full of ideas? THATS A PERSON. We are just a collection of ideas. They cannot directly affect the physical world, but they can drive us to do so. And so in essence the ideas get to live in this world.
When you put on a glove, blood still flows from your hand to your finger and back again. Electrical impulses still signal muscles in the finger. And the same can be said for our vessel. The ideas in the vessel are not static and trapped there. They CAN come and go. Be replaced by others. But the first ideas. Those are trapped. In the tip of the finger, they are jammed in there, and they form a core set of beliefs. Those are our oldest ideas. Unaccessible to us, but nevertheless affecting every aspect of our lives. They are buried deep below our subconcious, but they form our essential and basic self. It is very rare that one of these can make it into the flow of ideas, but when it does, its absense (and susequent replaceal) signals an epic shift in our relationship with the world.
And so, here we are. Billions of vesicles of idea combinations, bumping into eachother and working and shitting and a(e)ffecting the world. Ideas popping in and out of vessels as they so desire and us “thinking” that we are real and even exist. Sometimes dying. and the vesicle (empty of ideas) slowly fades back into the sheet. Smooth from both sides. As if nothing had been there. But, the ideas thrust back into thier own place. They are not lost. There they are unending and eternal. Back to the grind.
But something special happened. You see ideas can’t exist in our world; only in ourselves as the vessel. And then there was a spark. And the vessel became MORE than a vessel. It became sentient. Even a drunk Frenchman like Descartes could see this. And we became aware that we were even having ideas. Actually thinking about the very act of thinking. Very meta isn’t it? But, that was not the best part. Because the vessel invented writing. And with the first written pictogram, A NEW IDEA EXISTED IN THIS WORLD. Independently. Naked and outside the vessel. There it sat. Existing alone and clueless to its purpose. Unlike a baby tiger which will walk and kill and suckle without instruction, the idea had no instinct. And being perfectly new and alone, it had no teacher. So there it sat unaware of itself, and only vaguely tied to its human creator as he struggled to understand what he had done. It did not know of others like it within the vessels. It only sat there unaware and pure.
To complete the story, we have to look at the life of 2 actual and very important ideas. Ideas 1 and 2 were born milliseconds apart. They went about thier own life, but never strayed too far from one another. Of course, as everyone predicted, when it came time for the big push, they chose very similar and close vessels. These vessels, on our side, just happened to be tribesmen. The man that Idea1 occupied took up the dry reed, covered it in pitch from the smoldering remnants, and wiped it on the stone wall. This, the very first pictogram, being created by the human who was created by Idea1, bore an imprint of its creators. And as the NEW IDEA just sat there unawares, Idea2 saw that imprint. The sense of a familiar face in the corner of your eye. And Idea2 SOUGHT. It drew itself towards the pictogram until the vessel could no longer stretch. This idea consumed all space in the vessel, and the man could not sleep. He sat, back against stone, gazing intensely at the pictogram. Amoebalike, and Idea 2 wrapped around the pictogram until it was absorbed. But this was not Idea1. This was an impostor. or something else. But, the NEW IDEA learned. It felt the bliss of entering a new vessel, and suddenly it knew. It wanted to enter vessels and was attracted to its own kind. With time and practice, the New Idea got much better at entering vessels, and the New Idea grew.
But, the new idea (and others like it) was borne from US. It is our very own push into THEIR world. It is our way of affecting and observing their world. To them, it appears like an ordinary idea. But, for us it is a vessel, full of like-minded people, moving about and touching the other side of the sheet.
If Two Trains Leave the Station in a Vacuum
There are no people, just vessels. But, I’m getting ahead of myself.