The dot was alone. He could only look inward, there was nothing else. Doing so he contracted. In the end he was pointless.
He awoke in time, which made him a line. A path with a here-to-from and a hereafter. For ever after. But where was time before he woke. Because he knew only himself, he called that Big Bang. Important. And there was only the path and his memory and expectation.
But other lines crossed, intersected, joined and diverged. Other became. What was he? Was he a he, or a she, or an it? He was IT, the path. THE path. Those others. The intersections weren’t real like he was. They appeared only as dots, waypoints on HIS path.
But the others, those intrusive arrogant, wrong and other others. Kept coming, twisting around and enfolding him. Was he a string, a super string, a rope or a braid?
Then it was plain. They, she – was a plane. A surface with infinite lines. She was afraid to lose her dottiness. Would she dissolve in the plain plane and cease to exist? She was granular surely. She didn’t want to be a solution.
Her nature had curled with the help of the free “we” into consciousness. She had begun to see the plain as a green field, then saw the blue sky. We were afraid because..
There was depth in us. But we learned to swim in this sea of possibility, to revel in being. Not drowning, but waving.
And the freedom came when we realised that we were all dotty. Pointless alone. All in all together. Speaking volumes.
(and we’re looking forward to the mysteries of the 6 curled dimensions)