The Unknown
Who are the Masters of the Universe, and who are the Masters of the Earth? That question has been plaguing humanity for generations, and the answer will likely never be fully understood. The simple reason for that is that our minds are unable to comprehend what they don’t understand.
For example, attempt to think about the origin of the Universe. At some point, All That Is came into existence. At that same point, Time itself began to exist. But how can Time originate? Is chronology not infinite? What happened before the inception of the Universe, and how could it have happened if nothing existed? You can keep turning yourself in circles if you continue to seek an answer which makes sense, because the answer does not live inside the boundary of what the human mind can hold.
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And that is exactly the problem. We take the conclusions of our own minds and call them laws. Laws of physics. Laws of nature. As if the Universe is obligated to follow the rules written by a brain that evolved on one small planet, for the sole purpose of surviving on that planet. This is anthropocentrism. What if those laws are not universal truths, but local ones? What if they are accurate within a certain boundary, the way the rules of a game are perfectly consistent inside the game, and mean absolutely nothing once you step outside of it? We have never stepped Outside. We may not even be capable of it. So we map what we can see, call it everything, and build our entire understanding of existence on that assumption. Until 1781, it was believed our Solar System only had six planets. Then Uranus was discovered, followed by Neptune in 1846 and Pluto in 1930. The most dangerous thing is not ignorance. It is mistaking the limits of your perception for the limits of reality.
I have experienced this boundary firsthand. I do not remember the details in any way I can fully articulate, and I believe that in itself says everything. I touched something. I know that I did, because I came back slightly changed. Elated. At peace in a way that did not have a rational explanation. Whatever was on the other side of that boundary, my waking mind could not carry it back with me. It slipped away the moment I returned, the way a dream dissolves before you can write it down.
This is why I advocate for documenting those experiences. Write it down the moment you surface. Write it down while you’re still rolling. Write it down even when it sounds incoherent. Do it again the next time, and the time after that. Because while one account may be dismissed as a feeling, the collection of documentation will begin to look like a map.
The vehicle for crossing that boundary, in my experience, is psychedelics. I am not alone in that belief. Psychedelic churches have understood this for longer than modern science has been willing to acknowledge it. They use these substances with intention, with ritual, with the understanding that what is being accessed is not a false vision but a frequency that the sober mind is simply not tuned to receive. Using something with intention may get you to see something new, something that previously could not be understood. The further we venture into the Outside, the further we unlock ourselves.
