I remember- as a child in temple at pesach, a fertility celebration of spring harvest- I held a reed in the center of the congregants and spun, reciting, essentially, “God is all around, God is all around, God is all around.”  It was then, dizzy from the rituals of my tradition that I thought: ‘what if’ all fictions- Chinese dragons, mythic gorgons, a beloved and terrible kraken of Lovecraft’s romantic fantasies- existed somewhere.  What if, somewhere (if not here), UFO’s really had visited earth, abducted humans (and other earthen livestock), and experimented nefariously; interjected alien DNA into the course of human evolution?  As an ardent skeptic, as I grew to be, I never could shake that notion: that all that could be thought was, in form, tapping into a reality-of-not-here-than-elsewhere.

Reading suggestions of lucid dreaming’s insight to the molecular structure of benzene (as well as other, more personal & intimate ‘validated’ or utilitarian uses) and the local tabloid’s promulgations of Nostradamus’ correspondence with current events, I thought also of the pure science & fantasy books devoured more voraciously than my mother’s best cooking (for which, the ever-loving yet self-abnegating mother takes full blame: I credit the authors of all history).  Later, the multiversal theories of ‘cutting edge physicists,’ appealed to my fancies: hologram dimensionality, various strings that may collectively instrument the universe, and the fantastically irrefutable‘ arguments from probabilistic simulation’.  The question remained, what if all imaginations were indeed reflections from another world, if not later confirmed to be realities manifest in our own lives.
   

An anecdote, of sorts: sitting at a table with adolescent friends, I was overwhelmed with opposition in the claim that the human body could not perceive ‘wetness’ but temperature & pressure.  This suspicious & contentious claim was confirmed through subsequent study: I was validated in my lone coming of age thoughts in the bathtub, watching & sensing the water ebb & flow up & down my bended knee with undulating breath.  Nonetheless, I wondered what it would be like to experience defacto sensation of humidity & moisture abouts, instead of surface tensions & temperature exchange rates upon skin which yield perception of that emblematically esoteric wetness of our supposed familiarity.  

Science has long posited questions.  Some are answered, only to create others.  Each & every question has minds compelled to speculate upon the answer.  Not all answers can correspond to the phenomena of which we observe, though no suspicion ought be cast out.  Though argued that the greatest contributions are those which apply to our immediate surroundings (the ‘here and now’ of the contemporary world in which we live), no less useful than the expansive fictions of Shakespeare’s dramas are the most mundane & spectacular of our imaginings.  As no one else may exist as you, a most particular & unique historian of your perspective in place & time, as we have not but knowledge of how our productions may benefit others or work to elucidate a potential a place of being (subjective or otherwise, to be validated as & if it may), we are obliged to illustrate our ideas out unto the world.


Let the artists scrawl, the sculpture mold.  Let the schizoic victors of their own experience write but part of history; the theoretical biologists & chemists to test their philosophies, or merely put them forth into the ever reaching arc of cultural discovery.  Who knows if we may someday discover the sovereignty of this realm, ex nihilo, out of nothing & of itself?  Who may contend that there are, for certain, no other worlds?  May any of us be so bold as to contend that heavens & hells may be grander still than imagined yet?  Let us, I pray to the unknown complexity & grandiosity of what-is-being, take all fictions, fancies, fears, futuristic hopes & naturalistic discovery and apply them to this-world’s betterment.  Neither the apocalyptic hell of the holy nor the hysterical history of Alas Babylon is necessary. The utopia of our most spectacular thinkers ought not be the limits of our ambitions, fantastical as they may yet be.