Metaphysics Playfully Explained
We are one with this planet; therefore, one with the universe
I am not a Plato. Nor a Kant. I am me, a wild child version of a father who worshipped physics and a spiritual mother who, through the luck of the family draw, was born into one of our nation's early Quaker families.
I am the byproduct of two schools of thought, the imaginative world of speculation and questioning, and the confirmation of religious certainty.
The best way to describe my world, therefore, is to describe it like this: I don’t ask questions, but I do listen for answers.
I was taught at an early age that God could be found within, and to be in a relationship with this God or god (you pick the vocabulary word), all one had to do was sit in some form of meditation and listen. So this is what I did.
I thank my mother for teaching me the balance I would need to do this, as sitting in silence is not something one readily gravitates toward. Especially as a child. But she was/is a good teacher and taught me to respect silence and to respect privacy. God, if He is within, is the god I have designed.
Fast forward to the physicist. My dad. Equally a good teacher who taught me to regard the unknown vastness of the universe with equal respect. Our world is neither certain nor uncertain, and there are laws that bind our thinking to the planets, the stars, and the micro-cosmic organism. We are the sum of these parts.
To access the mysteries of the universe, or untangle the possibility of a God (god), we must not question their existence, but of course, we do. We can't help it. We’re not programmed to believe, but to question, to falter, to stumble and fall. And then demand help.
The metaphysical approach to living life on this planet, for me, is to listen. Not to question, but to sit in silence and feel my way through the cosmic fallout, the mind mess, the clouded uncertainty, until through some miracle of God, possibly the god within, the way through this mess is revealed.
I am not a Plato. I am me. And my way of finding solutions in this cosmic debris field has been to sit down long enough to listen. I realized a long time ago that if I could take out a book from the library and read what Plato thought, then why couldn’t I take from the vast library of cosmic knowledge, the ancient scrolls of wisdom, so that I, too, could carry the universe in my inkwell.
