Home > Uncategorized > Day Two Hundred and Forty: A Brief Glimpse

Day Two Hundred and Forty: A Brief Glimpse

I have decided to go mad.

It was an easy decision to make, and really the only rational one. So to speak. What would you do, if you were presented with the full, unfettered force of reality – unfiltered and exposed to you like the raw, virulent flesh of some diseased corpse only a moment after death, still ruddy and wet and pulsating with peristaltic motions that are guided only by mindless impulses from a brain that has ceased to function?

Absolutely. Madness.

There is a precedent, of course. It is called revelation, and I suppose others have handled it better than I. It is said that St. John of Patmos saw the heavens crack open before him and wrote a book about it. The mushrooms no doubt had something to do with it, and perhaps if I had been ingesting the Divine Fungus my madness would be a bestseller as well. But alas, the key to my revelation, my grand epiphany was nothing as grand as that. No, it was something so very simple. Simple and mundane.

It was said by the great H.P. Lovecraft, a man who knew madness as well as any man knows his lover, “The most merciful thing in the world, I think, is the inability of the human mind to correlate all its contents.” And he was right. The universe is too vast, too strange, too utterly inexplicable for a simple human mind to truly understand. We barely understand the space between our own ears – how are we to understand the underpinnings of reality itself? Atoms? Strings? Membranes? These are all placeholders, crutches for our weak and feeble consciousnesses to rest on when the contemplation of Creation becomes all too much to bear.

Mankind was never meant to know. We are still far too primitive for that.

But there are times… Times and places, where the great clockwork of the universe ticks through to an almost impossible combination of events –

(Although, in an infinite universe, is there any such event that can truly be called “impossible”? Given enough time, must we not assume that even the most improbable thing will happen one day?)

I was sitting at a bus stop, waiting for the number nine bus to take me downtown.

Sitting with me were:

  • A young man, bundled up against the cold in a coat that looked new. He had short blonde hair and was listening to music in little earbuds. The music was loud enough that I could hear the tinny beat from a few seats away.
  • An older woman, reading a paperback book. I couldn’t make out the cover from where I was sitting.
  • An elderly man, his hands resting on his cane, watery eyes watching the world from behind thick glasses.

The three. The three who were one, in all truth. The three who were the mouthpieces for the universe.

The bus came, hissing to a stop.

The young man sang a single note from the song he was listening to. At the same time, the woman turned a page in her book. At the same time, the old man thumped the ground with his cane. Once.

It was a call, a summons in code. A breath of air, an exchange of knowledge, a physical force – all combining to create a call from the universe at large to someone. To anyone.

To me.

I knew what it was as soon as it happened, and if you had asked me prior to that momentous event, I would have rejected the notion outright.

But I know what I saw. I know what happened.

The universe opened my eyes to itself for a brief moment. It gave me a full-face look, blinding and undeniable, at the underpinnings of reality itself. I saw the gears by which time moves, and the distortions that it is subject to. I heard the humming of atoms as they vibrated all around me, picking up heat and sending it on. I knew where everything was around me, and could have pinpointed any single person anywhere in the world. My awareness stretched out around the planet, racing past the sun and beyond the galaxy itself before it snapped back into my skull. For that brief and piercing moment, I shared the mind of God and saw all of His creation in the palm of my hand. There was no time, no distance, no difference between what was and what would never be.

And then it was over. The moment passed like a break in the clouds through which the sun shines for only a heartbeat. I looked around and they were still there, the woman, the young man and the old. They looked like they didn’t know what they had done, what they had been a part of, but I knew. I knew what they knew, what everyone knew.

How could I sit there and wait for the bus like a normal person? I could feel it coming, feel its history trail behind it. I could see it as it arrived, packed to the gills with the ghosts of millions of travelers over the years. The bus was a mass of lives and existences, and it was all I could do to not go mad right there and then.

As it was, I stood up, my coat open and my eyes wild. I shouted that I had been given a vision, but I could not articulate what I had seen except through words that fell randomly from my lips. The other passengers in the waiting area tried to calm me down, but I saw through them as though they were windows into the reality I had just left.

I ran. As far and as fast as I could.

Now I have been away for a long time – a day, forever? Who knows? I have not aged unduly, but then it’s likely I never will. In my exile from that revelation I have done all I knew how to do to spread what I have seen. I have written, I have blogged. I tried to draw, but my skills failed me.

But there is so much. Too much. I will never get it all in my lifetime, in a thousand lifetimes. I gave up.

I decided to go mad. For madness is an abandonment of responsibility. Maybe if I go mad, then I can return to the world I knew.

Or maybe not.

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