This world is a holograph

There is a little known law of nature, with deep implications for reality. In the 1970’s it was shown that the amount of information in any space was proportional to its area, not its volume. Weird, since space is not two-dimensional.

A theory has been developed that explains this – that the Universe is actually a holographic projection from the outside and only appears three dimensional here, within it. It was Jakob Bekenstein who came up with that, and implied that the Universe we experience is actually the inside of a black hole in the larger Universe.

Juan Maldacena published a paper in 1997 reinforcing this, in which he showed that you could consider the Universe to be a form of holographic projection. (Apparantly – I’ve only read about it – he’s a string theorist so by definition almost incomprehensible).


So, if that’s true then reality that we perceive as material and final is more like the shadows dancing on the wall of Plato’s Cave. In his Allegory of the Cave he postulated that what we perceive is only the shadow on a cave wall of the “ideal” reality beyond and outside. According to Maldacena and Bekenstein- what we perceive as 4 dimensional space-time is actually a holograph inside a black hole of what is outside and beyond.


” According to the allegory, man’s condition is one of bondage to perceptions. When man is chained up with only a fire behind him, he perceives the world by watching shadows on the wall. He does not realize that there is more to be seen or known, and as such leads a largely passive, disinterested life. So long as his basic needs are met, he does not ask questions. Many believe that this is a statement about people who do not overtly seek knowledge or truth, but rather accept what they are told or what they can immediately experience.” Philos.org, Plato’s Allegory of the Cave.

We, the force

Carl Jung first wrote about the “collective unconscious”. This lies below and as a foundation of our own individual unconscious. It is a pooling between us, now and in the past. It is also one gateway (I believe) to the shared life beyond the fragility of our mind in the life – our material consciousness – the Brahman of Hinduism or Nirvana of Buddhism, that can be glimpsed through meditation.


The collective unconscious speaks in a language both of archetypes and mandalas. Archetypes are the powerful shared images which make so many movies effective for instance the monster in the dark of horror films and the ecstasy of union and community of Avatar. Mandalas reflect perfection in images and seem, at least to me to be linked to the beautiful fractals of chaos theory that underlay existence. (look at free fractal apps on your iPhone for a direct view of reality!).


It is only our mind, this particular consciousness that dies, this is anyway an illusion. If we can connect to the shared stream of unconsciousness now , then we already experience our immortality. Through prayer, meditation, connection with our loved ones or nature – even the cinema.

After all, the movies are right, forget what people call it – Avatar is what awaits. May the Force be with us.

Lord, Lady, Sister, Brother

Beloved, whose heart is heaven
Hallowed be thy pain
Our kingdom come
As will is one
On earth as it is in heaven
Give us today a body bred
From shriven trespasses forgiven

Surprising lilacs out of dead land
Redeeming deserts of isolation
Delivering us from evil.
Thy love is the kingdom, the power and our glory
Now and for ever

You show me Heaven

A love letter

G and U and I my dear, I and G and thee,
He made you and I my dear, together to be we,
He and She is God my dear, one and one is three,
Who made the M and E my dear, and the timely C
Entangled N and T my dear, an angled entity,
you are all my world my dear, For God made you for me

Apparently a GUI is a General User Interface. Strikes me that’s our purpose, to be each a user interface, to reveal the rich love that is a God.

You, my sweet darlings are all, every one of you – my GodsUserInterface x

You show me Heaven

A love letter

G and U and I my dear, I and G and thee,
He made you and I my dear, together to be we,
He and She is God my dear, one and one is three,
Who made the M and E my dear, and the timely C
Entangled N and T my dear, an angled entity,
you are all my world my dear, For God made you for me

Apparently a GUI is a General User Interface. Strikes me that’s our purpose, to be each a user interface, to reveal the rich love that is a God.

You, my sweet darlings are all, every one of you – my GodsUserInterface x

We set God up, to knock Him down

Now we seek to destroy Him…

I was reading a passage by Donald Winnicott about the development of self. How the infant initially believes they are omnipotent and needs to seek to destroy their mother, as a test of their capacity to be held.

Isn’t it probable that God is not male, or parental at all? Hindus have a far older belief system and think about spirituality entire differently. We – Christians, Muslims and Jews alike – have created an archetypal father figure; which many now revile. But maybe it is necessary for us on this journey that we try to destroy God, and it is in the ever-loving survival of our destruction – that we finally perceive His (or Her) loving reality? Perhaps revealed as something different from the father figure we set up?

What Winnicott said

Donald Winnicott (paediatrician and psychoanalyst) studied the development of the Self within the child. He found that an infant is reliant on a “good-enough” mother (he was writing in the ’40’s, ’50s and ’60’s) to reveal to the infant that their feelings are real. Initially an infant believes he/she is omnipotent. He/she does not know there is a Not-Me. The reality of the loving mother as an “external object” is established by her survival of the child’s attempt to destroy her – and doing this whilst continuing to love. It is a parent’s fundamental role in allowing their child to develop a sense of the their reality in relation to all-else that they provide a “holding” environment within which the child can develop. In Winnicott’s words.. “The self is first made real through recognition, the object is first made real through aggressive destruction; and this of course, makes experience of the object feel real to the self. The object is placed outside omnipotent control by being destroyed while, in fact surviving the destruction”. In an illustrative dialogue about the process “The subject says to the object: ‘I have destroyed you’, and the object is there to receive the communication. From now on the subject says: ‘Hullo, object!’ ‘ I destroyed you.’ ‘ I love you. You have value for me because of your survival of my destruction of you. While I am loving you I am all the time destroying you in (unconscious) fantasy’ ” (The Use of an Object and Relating through Identifications 1969). “Shall I say that, for a child to be brought up so that he can discover the deepest part of his nature, someone has to be defied, and even at times hated, without there being a danger of a complete break in the relationship” (Home Again 1945).

Dream relationships

Intimacy can be a nightmare. Or dreamy. Which is it to be? It’s within our gift. To ourselves.

They want to take. Do I give?

Maybe. Probably, but do they understand that you are giving, and what they’re taking? It shouldn’t just be giving in. Just  It seems to me that this is how it works. I have my own image of who I am. You, my beloved, have your idea of what is “me”; it’s quite different from mine. When we started out on our journey together –  you needed me to be that person. Remember all of the friction back then? It was all around my idea of me and your idea of me. (Oh, and the versa of course. In fact probably more so!. So many years later our ideas and images of me have jostled toward each other. Giving and taking.

Mirror, mirror, you’re my all

It was a bit gritty sometimes, but looking back; thank you. Without your idea of me – I wouldn’t have become this facet of me-ness. You have been my  mirror; which seemed to be distorted at first. Not so much giving and taking; more pushing and pulling; cajoling, believing, shining a light.

Here’s what I think. All  the  versions of self  – are all dreams. Stories.. There is no real thing called me. Except perhaps the sum total of everyone’s idea of me. So can I change? As easily as changing channels. I can become how you see me, or how I’d like to be – just by thinking it.

Four in a bed

Really  there are (at least) four people in our relationship. Me (according to me). Me (as you imagine me). You (who you are, to you). You (as I need and imagine you to be).

And we dance, don’t we. So many steps and pirouettes and sore toes.; but it’s the stuff that’s kept us going through the years. Holding our our gaze. An emergent quartet. That’s us.

We have trodden on each others toes  quite often; but thank you for staying on the floor with me.

Think of all the fabulous stories that could be told. If we stuck, rather than twisted – when our dream of ourself is confronted. We’ve all walked out from friendships and marriages; all to preserve a fantasy of one particular me-ness or you-ness. Give, but don’t give in. Take, but not to cause heart ache.

The Darkling thrush

Thomas Hardy

For reading click here …the darkling thrush thomas hardy

I leant upon a coppice gate
When Frost was spectre-grey,
And Winter’s dregs made desolate
    The weakening eye of day.
The tangled bine-stems scored the sky
    Like strings of broken lyres,
And all mankind that haunted nigh
    Had sought their household fires.

The land’s sharp features seemed to be
    The Century’s corpse outleant,
His crypt the cloudy canopy,
    The wind his death-lament.
The ancient pulse of germ and birth
    Was shrunken hard and dry,
And every spirit upon earth
    Seemed fervourless as I.

At once a voice arose among
    The bleak twigs overhead
In a full-hearted evensong
    Of joy illimited;
An aged thrush, frail, gaunt and small,
    In blast-beruffled plume,
Had chosen thus to fling his soul
    Upon the growing gloom.

So little cause for carolings
    Of such ecstatic sound
Was written on terrestrial things
    Afar or nigh around,
That I could think there trembled through
    His happy good-night air
Some blessed Hope, whereof he knew
    And I was unaware.

The world’s a-quiver

Wikipedia: Brownian motion is the random motion of particles suspended in a liquid or a gas

TS Eliot The Dry Salvages: “I do not know much about gods; but I think that the river
Is a strong brown god-sullen, untamed and intractable”

For reading click here … Brownian motion

This life is like a river

A silver shiver this life

A gurgling-guddling quick’ning sliver

Wrangling-tangle of strife

 

All we be is water-taught

Aught but water our withal

Our tumbling jumbling ripple of thought

Pride before a waterfall

 

Strong brown God is the river

Reiver of sods and odds thrown

Our brownian drownian motion a-quiver

Deep pooled in tides of its own

 

Our day is like a lifetime

Wild thyme and strawberry day

But frighteningly nightly tight-coiling the lifeline

Which runs through death and decay

 

Well the still point of the world

Whirled without end to be well

For waving and curling dimensions unfurled

Love which is ocean’s salt swell