I dreamt last night it was the year 2100.

The paradigm in medicine was that the human body is essentially a software program - the molecules comprising it are code. Every software program has bugs - elements of the code that result in the user experience not working as intended. "Disease," in this new paradigm, was simple a bug in the code. Every bug is fixable. For every problem there is an equal and opposite solution.

In this hyper-advanced, surprisingly utopian future, in which I found myself an "old" man, disease was a thing of the past - including the disease that we used to call "aging."

All this advancement, all this sophistication - and yet we still know nothing. Concepts such as time and gravity are still so elusive. Consider one possible explanation.

Hindu mythology says Brahman is Infinity - all that ever could be, as one - and Brahman manifests itself as Brahma, Vishnu, and Shiva - The Creator, The Sustainer, and The Destroyer. Spinoza remarked, "The order and connection of ideas is the same as the order and connection of things." Similarly, for every objectivistic way of seeing the world, there is an equal and opposite poetic way of seeing it. One side of the equation is sheer wonder and magic - the gods and goddesses themselves. Another side is pure, cut and dry, plain and simple, as mathematics.

Consider "Brahma" is simply the universe's tendency to create something from nothing. Quantum physics wouldn't disagree that "matter" arises from an infinite field of apparent nothingness. So perhaps "Brahma," understood objectively, is "Brahman's" power to create anything from nothing. We see this tendency manifest itself in phenomena such as spontaneous healing. Newton's First Law should be trimmed by Occam's Razor. The most fundamental law, it may seem, is that of Creation. Something arises from nothing. Then what?

Then, it exists.

It doesn't immediately go away. It remains. It sustains. Something holds it together. Something keeps it bound as a discrete unit within the universe. Perhaps, then, "Vishnu," understood objectively, is that which keeps things intact. "Time" and "gravity" are just different labels for this second most fundamental law, that is the universe's propensity to sustain, continue, remain.

Finally, things don't last forever. Buddhism's tenet of impermanence is undeniable. Things eventually break apart, wither away, decompose - die. The Second Law of Thermodynamics and "Shiva" - just as time, gravity, and Vishnu - are one and the same. Shiva, then, is a third fundamental force of nature - nature's tendency to destroy and be destroyed - the polar opposite of time/gravity/Vishnu.

These three forces are ultimately the same force that animates everything - the paint marking that blank canvas that is pure consciousness, nothingness, emptiness.

I lost control. And that's all she wrote. But then, no joke, I saw poetry in motion. Reality rhyming while I'm mindful of minding business big or small. I came to crawl out of my ego-crib, proceed to promptly sit up straight, witness to reality demonstrate its way with the Way. Okay? And here's what the jam-band would say. It's all atoms dancing, electrons prancing, gluons laughing - but then keep diving, your scuba gear binding, you will get to finding, that there's no separation, just pure space-ness, and upon the amazement and elation that mind-brush will be painting, you will feel the utter and absolute opposite of anxious.

January 2, 2023. On the freeway with my husband and nine-month-old daughter. Left lane, 80 MPH, speed of traffic, 30-or-so feet in front a red sedan suddenly veers into its rightmost lane, not realizing another car is right next to them. The driver overcorrects and next thing I know, both cars have struck each other and are spinning out of control - right in front of our trajectory. Glass shattering, smoke billowing - death smiling at high noon. I don't think. There is no time to think. I quickly look to my right lest making the same grave mistake. No issue. I veer right and don't have enough time to check the next lane. I take a leap of faith and veer right again, just missing the demolished vehicles. I don't have the time or peace of mind to consider what meat sandwich my family and I would have become should we have been stopped by those two cars. I haven't imagined how many more cars joined the pileup. I'm still in shock, and full with gratitude that - within that 1.5-second span - I was able to safely move three lanes and avoid what would have happened.

Had to get this off my chest. Thank you for reading.

Once Upon A Time -

One and Two and Three and Four and Five and Six and Seven and Eight and Nine and Ten and Eleven and Twelve and Thirteen and Fourteen and Fifteen and Sixteen and Seventeen and Eighteen and Nineteen and Twenty and Twenty-One and Twenty-Two and Twenty-Three and Twenty-Four and Twenty-Five and Twenty-Six and Twenty-Seven and Twenty-Eight and Twenty-Nine and Thirty and Thirty-One and Thirty-Two and Thirty-Three and Thirty-Four and Thirty-Five and Thirty-Six and Thirty-Seven and Thirty-Eight and Thirty-Nine and Forty and Forty-One and Forty-Two and Forty-Three and Forty-Four and Forty-Five and Forty-Six and Forty-Seven and Forty-Eight and Forty-Nine and Fifty and Fifty-One and Fifty-Two and Fifty-Three and Fifty-Four and Fifty-Five and Fifty-Six and Fifty-Seven and Fifty-Eight and Fifty-Nine and Sixty and Sixty-One and Sixty-Two and Sixty-Three and Sixty-Four and Sixty-Five and Sixty-Six and Sixty-Seven and Sixty-Eight and Sixty-Nine and Seventy and Seventy-One and Seventy-Two and Seventy-Three and Seventy-Four and Seventy-Five and Seventy-Six and Seventy-Seven and Seventy-Eight and Seventy-Nine and Eighty and Eighty-One and Eighty-Two and Eighty-Three and Eighty-Four and Eighty-Five and Eighty-Six and Eighty-Seven and Eighty-Eight and Eighty-Nine and Ninety and Ninety-One and Ninety-Two and Ninety-Three and Ninety-Four and Ninety-Five and Ninety-Six and Ninety-Seven and Ninety-Eight and Ninety-Nine and One-Hundred and One-Hundred-and-One and One-Hundred-and-Two and One-Hundred-and-Three and One-Hundred-and-Four and One-Hundred-and-Five and One-Hundred-and-Six and One-Hundred-and-Seven and One-Hundred-and-Eight and One-Hundred-and-Nine and One-Hundred-and-Ten and One-Hundred-and-Eleven and One-Hundred-and-Twelve and One-Hundred-and-Thirteen and One-Hundred-and-Fourteen and One-Hundred-and-Fifteen and One-Hundred-and-Sixteen and One-Hundred-and-Seventeen and One-Hundred-and-Eighteen and One-Hundred-and-Nineteen and One-Hundred-and-Twenty and One-Hundred-and-Twenty-One and One-Hundred-and-Twenty-Two and One-Hundred-and-Twenty-Three and One-Hundred-and-Twenty-Four and One-Hundred-and-Twenty-Five and One-Hundred-and-Twenty-Six and One-Hundred-and-Twenty-Seven and One-Hundred-and-Twenty-Eight and One-Hundred-and-Twenty-Nine and One-Hundred-and-Thirty and One-Hundred-and-Thirty-One and One-Hundred-and-Thirty-Two and One-Hundred-and-Thirty-Three and One-Hundred-and-Thirty-Four and One-Hundred-and-Thirty-Five and One-Hundred-and-Thirty-Six and One-Hundred-and-Thirty-Seven and One-Hundred-and-Thirty-Eight and One-Hundred-and-Thirty-Nine and One-Hundred-and-Forty and One-Hundred-and-Forty-One joined forces as collective Protagonists and, despite an epic struggle, resolved to defeat their Antagonist -

The End.

I remember that day - March Tenth, Twenty-Fourteen - when I sank my teeth into the best damn chicken wings ever and washed them down with some whiskey that was old enough to legally drink itself, listening to the author whose mind caught lightning in its bottle - top-shelf lightning - and hearing the sparks of "Prose." fly with absolute freedom, savoring the freedom that was this idea, so pure, so beautiful, the best of social media married with the best of writing, a place not for the eyes, not for the mind, but for the heart and soul, for the highest echelons of our very being - for us to consume bite-sized amounts of the very finest written word, as if we were at a Michelin-star diner disguised as a casual, unsuspecting street kitchen - and for us then to be taken on the most winding road, most agonizing and scintillating journey, to have experienced the most medieval of all dark nights of any app's soul, only to escape that prison, as of late, in a way that gives Shawshank a sprint for its motherfucking mint.