That’s what is all about. Antithesis. Dichotomy. Yin and yang. Antonyms. You and I.
That whole, that oneness – it’s not attainable here. Here, we are bound by the three dimensions of flesh, by desire and illusion, by our five senses and death. None can escape these. Numbers are everywhere, and they are cleanly aligned on the number line, from minus to plus with the zero in the middle.
That zero. The ancients didn’t even want to acknowledge that – with a good reason, you know. It complicates things. Infinitely small fractions tend to zero. When you try to divide by zero, you’ll get infinite in turn. For zero options, you’re stuck. Still, nothing ever amounts to zero.
Every life counts. Some people are light. Slim, or stupid, or funny, or compassionate. Light can mean a myriad. So can being a rock: hard core, stubborn, true, insensitive. How many times do we label people around us as opposed to labeling ourselves? How many times do we prefer instead of love? How many ways to be a feather or a rock… can one be both?
There is a need for feather-people as there is for rock-people. Yes, it’s hard to get along when there are hardly any commonalities. Tell me about it. But if you see it as an exercise, as a game, it can be bearable if not downright enjoyable at times – as long as you’re not mean. It’s equally hard to not be mean when you get hurt. Feathers can hurt as much as rocks – depends how they’re used. Torture or healing. Why are we so exposed?
I wonder if peace is that middle. The zero. Perfect equilibrium. Zero would be all alone without the other numbers, lost in the dark of nothingness. Is zero the essence then? And does it contain all dimensions? After all, it is a circle.
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