This universe is mine (and the many faces of tao).


In my desire to eliminate death and bring my little ghost boy a little closer, I stumble upon a question: Is the web possible without the spider? Of course I can’t answer this but the answer that wants to come is ‘no’. I stop in my tracks and a rush of debate floods my mind; ‘you’re an egomaniac’ ‘you’re only seeing from the spider’s perspective’ ‘this wont bring down the metaphorical Berlin wall between your world and your babies’ ‘forget that shit and make a decision about what you want to do for a living’.

But how can I drop this subject? Aren’t mothers always trying to find ways to bring their babies back home? I’m no different because I won’t accept death is an answer for the missing. If time and space are the software that allows me to keep everything organised in my head/universe then can’t I bend them? Rearrange them to suit? I need the baby file in ‘the life’  folder and not in ‘the death’ one. If I’m the ruler of my web, detecting vibrations along my threads that help to keep me fed, then surely I can spideee sense my way through this puzzle and action-hero my baby safe from the burning building fade of memory.

Communication coming to me from my grandmother after her death make me want to believe that important news travels instantaneously. And not unlike the real life news, it can sometimes be just the made up rambling bollox of your brain. But when it’s not, when the news coming from another world relates entirely to a specific situation, turns out to be true or spares us from suffering a hideous misfortune: it almost concludes that there is more in the fabric of the world than just the stitches we know make it us. An infinite ‘more’ that we will never be able to fathom. And what megabrain was it that said ‘the only thing we perceive are our perceptions’?

If time doesn’t exist independently of the life that notices it, then I can surely hang on to the threads of time, govern them, refuse to allow their affect on anything in my universe? And if I could know everything would I come to the realisation that just because I could it doesn’t mean that I should? I wonder also whether I conclusively own or govern all I see if, it wouldn’t exist without me, or whether another weather controls it’s seasons on my behalf. My questions are ubiquitous like grass.

So I’m deciding, as you can tell, to probably buy into this view. This biocentric way of thinking about things. Because it feels like it destroys the bits of death that frighten me and it feels like Dylan is somewhere rather than nowhere. Although I try to deny a flipside, there still is one. It’s obvious to the reader and it saddens me to consider. But if this is really my universe and my perception of it orchestrates the blooms and fades, then why did I choose the reality box where my child is dead and not the one where my child is alive?