Infinity in all Directions

Infinity In All Directions, by Twiche.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-OuCxynO1rw

This is a reading... I'd really, REALLY like some feedback here. Just, lemme know what you think, here or there, I dun care. Onward...

“Logic deals with possibility, and all possibilities are it’s facts” - Wittgenstein.

All possibilities.

It is not that any sense of multiverse can be proven meaningfully (for if there were a link between “our” universe and “another” universe, one might call the term “universe” a misnomer). It is rather that a set of axioms may be taken as the basis for a unique framework which, combined with the rules of reason, creates an entire, infinite world of implication, which can be profoundly, dizzyingly complex if there is enough variance to make it interesting. This is the beauty of reason itself. Reason and the created, and the existent, are perpetually intertwined.

How different these worlds can be, and how wondrous that we can perceive them. Taken in this sense, every fiction, even every unique fiction, is a world. It is a system, structured as any by relations, and it is on those relations that we rely for metaphor, relevance and beauty. Reflect on the mystery of your own imaginings, on your own capacity to delve into the wonders of infinitude.

For this is true of our “actual” lives too. O’ how many lives we may yet lead.

• Chapter 1:

Quietly, she stepped into the room, her multicolored mane catching the glint of the early evening sun as it shone through the window. The light also caught on her white face, and I had hoped that it would be reflected in her eyes. It wasn’t. There was serene calm there, perhaps slightly forced as she knew what she’d have to tell me. There was a boundless sympathy, a softness that wished to grant the comfort that it could not. A kindness, even... one that said she would have given a great deal of toil and suffering on her own account not to bear forth the words that she must. Yet there was no light there to shed on my hope.

For a moment, there was nothing but silence and the slightly muffled sounds of the streets of Canterlot. Happy, busy city sounds... the sounds of ponies who were living a life... their life, which they knew, and were comfortable, and content in. Then she sighed, softly, weary with her own troubles and now my own.

“I’m sorry, but there just isn’t anything I can do.”

The words hit me with a dull forcefulness, the kind that almost leaves ringing in your ears. The Princess said a fair bit more, but I only caught phrases... phrases like “magical laws won’t sustain”... “I still don’t fully”... “ways of re-adjusting”. I was slightly preoccupied with myself, so you’ll have to forgive the imperfect memory. At length I did ask her to repeat herself, and tried, really tried, to pay attention as she patiently repeated everything. I was unable to pay attention for the second time as well. I couldn’t stave off the torrent of emotions, which had it been audible would have made a rushing sound like that of seashells blocking the ear from all else but the imaginary ocean within.

It was gone. My world was gone. Not dead, or vanished, or condemned. Simply gone to me. Inaccessible. Beyond. I was carried away from all that I loved, and her words were the severing of a cord, a thread of fragile hope that would have, should have pulled me to safety.

Naturally being in Equestria piqued my curiosity a little bit, and I actually spent the first night conversing with Celestia about what had happened to me, and the nature of their world. She explained the culture, and listened as I shared mine. In fact, she was impressed with my prior knowledge of their world and its culture. I explained that we humans had stories about ponies, and that I... had rather enjoyed the stories. This had made her smile. “I’m glad that we please you and your po... people so much”. She chuckled at the near slip up, and then, let me continue on with my questions.

Yet I had things I loved about home too, and I had already been waiting for a week for the answer, delivered so suddenly, and with such finality. Her words came with grace and earnestness and solemnity, but such did not render the verdict any less heavy. They did not uplift me. I missed too much.

It took until the third day after my arrival for me to come to the end of my long list of questions. Historical questions notwithstanding, but for those she just smiled and said “You’re in a library. Everything you could ask about the history of Equestria can be found right here, if anywhere. As soon as we figure out what’s going on you’ll be free to browse to your heart’s content.” It wasn’t until the fourth day that I asked her if she knew how I could get home. She looked surprised, as if she had expected I might know. Not having anyone else who knew the library as well as she, she set about herself, compounded with her duties and business of running a nation, to finding out what could be found. I was glad of this, for in spite of the wonder and newness of it all, I had a lingering, slowly growing sense of foreboding manifesting in the pit of my stomach. It spoke in angry tension of the end of something once possessed. Agitated by this, and by the simple anxiety of uncertainty, I already longed for the things of home.

I missed my friends and I missed my love. I missed my house and I missed my home. I missed the people, and my sense of place (which was even more damaged by the transport out of all places as I had ever known them). We exist as part of a culture, and in our culture we find security and a certain camaraderie with others. It frames our language and thus our thought. It colors our pleasures, so that the smell of a hearty breakfast or the sound of people arguing over sports that we may not even care about have a certain familiarity to us. More than just cultural context, there are the events, the people, which seem real to us... tangible. I could not hold the woman I adored, I could not hear her. I could not caress her.

Even those who I did not love as her, but who were still a pleasure to be around, were missed. Friends who’s laughter or joking or even mockery had a texture, a tactile presence. Rather than going out to a bar or just spending a night in with my friends playing games or to classes I paid little attention to (as if one learns in class) or reading any books from my own world... I had to sit in a library for a week, snacking on fruit and bread while the Princess tried to figure out how I’d gotten here, and if I could go home. I attempted to busy myself. I straightened the section of the library that Celestia had asked I keep to. I tried to read the scrolls around me... but it was all technical, and magic being technical above all, the texts around me were nothing short of mystifying. I tried to entertain myself, but ultimately there was little for me to do but sleep or sit. Sit and wait. Sit and remember and hope. Hope to return to a place beyond the reach of any eye or foot. A place that for me was utterly... away.

Now it was away forever. Even beyond hope.

Celestia continued to talk, but soon realized that wordy comforts would do nothing, so she simply bowed her head slightly, and withdrew from the room even as her emblem and charge withdrew behind the trees. I was left alone, beyond any seeming possibility of everything familiar. I paced, back and forth, over and over again, for a while. What would become of me? If I was really so strange to the ponies, then I could not expect to simply live life anew here... and I did not want to live life anew here! I had my own goals, and aspirations, and dreams... and they did not involve a life here, indeed they were not possible here. I was but a year from finishing university, and then... my life would begin proper. I had recently made up my mind to propose to the woman of my dreams, and the planned date was only two months away.

No, I would not die without her, but I had no wish to be without her all the same... least of all... without the chance to ever speak to her again, or say goodbye at the very least. My heart turned at the thought. I fell on my knees in front of the window, pressing my forehead to the sill, and dug my hands into the sides of my face. I dug my fingers into my ears, blocking out all sounds of the city,  and cried. For myself, for my love, for my friends too. Physical convulsions matched my sense of self and without any pretense of dignity or restraint, I wept like a child, a lost child, who in a moment of fantastic terror imagines being unable to ever find his way again.

A few minutes later when I had calmed enough to move, I stood and made my way over to the bed, collapsing heavily onto it. I did not sleep a long time, until the stars came out bright and clear, and I was able to focus on each one of them.

Focus, and wonder, about those little points of light.

Then when I finally slept, I dreamt the unsound, uneven dreams of one who cannot be sure at any point whether or not he was awake or dreaming. I slept unsure, hoping that I would awaken into a dream, in which my fantasy was made real.

--

What bothers us about the idea of being trapped in an illusion, is the fear that we could beat against the glass containing us, and find it unbreakable... the fear that there may be neither freedom nor imprisonment in the grand scheme of fictions and realities. The thought of transcendence, at its heart, is painful and terrifying, but not as much as the idea of there being no transcendence at all. Even those who say there is no “highest truth” sincerely hope for one, and their language betrays them. To not want “Truth”... few would have the courage, the confidence, to swallow this blue pill, to take it into themselves.

Maybe that’s wrong. Maybe there is. Maybe it’s simply more subtle.

--

I dream't of an endless expanse of green grass, all around as far as I could gaze. In a perfect circle, in every direction a few miles off, high and dark clouds rose up from the earth, like the foreboding cliffs at the edge of the world. However the sun shone brightly overhead, warm and inviting. I stood in plain clothes of an off white, and spun round and round, gazing at the rim of the sky. Suddenly, silently, with naught but a smile my beloved appeared next to me... Her hair, a deep vibrant brown, which fell past her shoulders... Her eyes the lightest brown, and her smile... slight. The solemnity permeated every action. She was clothed in likewise simple clothes, though of a shining white. She reached out her hand, took mine, and pulled me into a long kiss.

I will not share the words whispered to one another, as we laid down in the grass, holding closely together, as one does with dearest love. You may interpret this for yourself. Bear in mind only that this was a dream of the heart, and of farewell.

When next I looked to the field around me, the clouds had moved in, much closer, and in fact only a tiny ring of clear sky was above us, no more than a hundred meters wide. They seemed strangely low too, near to thought and heart... and I could hear the rumble as a current of sharp force darted about somewhere within them. Next to us, had appeared a small pedestal, and on the pedestal, at what must have been the very center of the circle. On the smooth, grey surface was a single, silver bell. With a soft smile, she walked to it, and beckoned me to her. The clouds closed in, rapidly. She picked up the bell, and held out the palm of her other hand.

“Please,...”

She shook her head, as I placed my palm against hers.

A whisper of love, and then one long, loud, clear ring of the bell. The clouds froze, and a single ray of light shone down on us.

Then everything shattered, and I fell.

-

I woke to harsh sunlight in my eyes. Putting my hand over my face, I sat up onto the edge of the bed, and looked around. Still the library. Still not home. There was a note, pushed under the door, which stated that at nine the Princess would return to my room with a possible course of action. I went to the window outside, and in the far distance saw a clock-tower which showed eight thirty. Nothing to do but sit and wait.

After all, what is a half hour to a man that’s been stripped of his life.

The clock struck nine, the last one digit number, and the tower rang nine long high notes to match. At the moment of the ninth toll, my door opened, and Celestia came in. At first she didn’t speak, simply smiled in a show of sympathy which I felt to be genuine, and assessed me.

“How are you?”

I stood from the bed, and bowed in deference. She was still the ruler here, after all. “I don’t know. As well as can be expected, I guess the question is... what now? I can’t simply sit here... I’ve done enough of that. But I can’t just leave either... I don’t know what to do. I’m in your kingdom, so I suppose I’m under your authority, your majesty. Tell me please... what now?”

She sighed, and then, closed her eyes in reflection and concentration. She took a few moments before responding. “I’ve been thinking about that too. It would be cruel to ask you to stay in here, and it would be wrong to ask you to leave my kingdom, when you don’t need to. If you choose to stay here, it would be easy enough to find a place for you. My subjects are good, and you would be welcomed by them, I know it.”

I thought for a moment, before nodding slowly. “Yeah... I guess it wouldn’t make any sense for me to refuse. Thank you Princess, for your help.” She gave a slight smile. “You’re welcome. I’ll see at once about arranging your new home... somewhere away from the city so you can adjust to our way of doing things. I have other duties, so I will return when I can.” Without waiting for my response she turned to leave, though she stopped at the doorway.

“Something else you may consider...”

“Yes, Princess?”

“You miss your home and your... people, and you’ll continue to miss them. You’ll miss the way life was. I can’t give that back to you, and for that I’m deeply sorry... But I can offer you a new way of life to belong to. My magic can’t stretch across whatever separates your world and this one, but here I have... some power. I could make you one of us.”

My eyes went wide. I had no idea how to respond. She met my gaze, and simply said, “Think about it.”, and then she left.

Nothing to do but sit and think.

--

The decision didn’t exactly take long. I had no plausible reason to reject, and would at least have a chance to start again. To be obvious, the idea itself would have been thrilling, if I had not been slightly numbed with shock. When the Princess returned, I bowed, thanked her for her kindness, and all too willingly accepted. What did I have to lose? She just smiled and informed me that she would make preparations for the spell, and would send a guard to collect me shortly.

I was led down into the main part of the castle around one in the afternoon, by a royal guard who looked as though he would have been gruff and direct, if it weren’t for my utterly strange appearance. In place of the demeanor he was doing his best to fake was a certain curiosity. I tried to make conversation as we moved through the grand structure, but he seemed to feel that silence was the best weapon in his losing battle to appear collected.

Finally, after an awkward few minutes, we arrived in the entrance hall. The sun shone bright on the white stone and deep red carpets, and the stained glass windows cast their own fantastic array on the floor. The space was symmetrical to precision. Whoever designed it had had a particular fondness for dichotomy. The grandiose sense which such open air should convey was enhanced, not diminished, by minimal, simplistic carving of the ceiling, banisters, and tables off to the sides. Light and warmth played with impossible space, so as to evoke in tandem both wonder and comfort. Beauty seized my heart, and for a time possessed it utterly.

I said nothing for a while. However long it was, it will remain to me forever a moment freed of any sense of time. Only space.

Eventually I noticed that Celestia was standing at the top of the grand staircase, on the landing. “It is splendid, isn’t it? I am honored, and humbled, by the way that someponies’ talents and dreams take shape. The architect was...” She laughed, “quite a character.” She laughed again, as though remembering some merry memory. The image of a pony Michelangelo came to me... Brilliant, but so very eccentric. How does one earn sculpture as a cutie mark, anyway?

Then she grew serious again, “Now onto business. The spell is deceptively simple. You will stand in the middle of the room, and I will cast it. I expect it will feel... more than a little strange.”

“How sure are you that I won’t be hurt, or that you can do it.”

She actually snorted. “I may look young, but I think I know what I’m doing. Trust me.”

Well, there wasn’t much to say to that. I positioned myself in the center of the room, glancing around. In a space like that, with the glittering warm rays of sunlight upon me like the embrace of light itself, I could only feel confident. The princess looked at me one last time. I thought  that this would be the last moment that anyone saw me, as I’ve known me.. this last physical remnant of my life as it was. The last tangible detail. Perhaps the last of me.

We are most who we are when all context fades away. We are who we are alone, as a point in the darkness. Or the light.

She closed her eyes, and I saw her horn glow. The light from the sun seemed to intensify, to fill the room. All sound failed, and faded away. The color of things dropped out suddenly, and with it all distinction. All was silence and light. I was blinded by the radiance, felt myself slip away, and fell into a sea of white. It was warm. Too warm, a burning, blazing warmth that was inescapable. It was not painful though, rather it was force and intensity felt purely.

I saw nothing and felt nothing. I was and I was not. Emptiness and form, the Buddhists teach, are really one force. The heartbeat and blood and flesh and bone and lung and air alike, of Being. The essential mantra of the Heart Sutra is celebration at this liberation into light and nothingness.

I exist. I do not exist. I exist in a sense, and I do not, in a sense. Neither can I exist, nor can I not.

I am alive, and I died long ago.

Of course, I don’t really care for Buddhist notions of Being, and I think them downright stupidly paradoxical at times, and perhaps that all seems a bit much to describe a sensation. Yet I can describe no more fully the feeling of being unravelled.

All was silence and light, endless in every direction.