We Are Becoming. . . .



We Are Becoming. . . .

The Physicist, David Bohm is quoted as saying that no theory can adequately explain all facets of Nature which is infinite.  And that quote  I read only this year affirmed my thinking.  For me it was a truth that anything or all things in the act of becoming will be impervious or inadequately explained all the time.  For a precise segment of time a theory may fit the conditions as they are known.   An infinite Nature constantly evolves.  And in our universe(s) which are in the act of becoming other than what we are at this moment,  what is a truth for today may indeed change with tomorrow’s  growing knowledge.  This is a difficult statement for most of us to accommodate.  Because in human thought a fact once discovered  should be so tomorrow as well as today.  Or as last week’s question went,  what can we safely eat today because it seems with this latest news everything is bad for us.   (I will be 85 soon so how bad has our food been?)

My thoughts on this follow Michael Talbot’s Holographic Universe, where explicate matter reflects an implicate center which rolls and enfolds into infinity. Can evolution (and already I can see where it is)  be the way to stabilize what is an illusion and give substance to matter to make it easier to learn what is necessary to promote life?  (An aspirin would help?)

My invisible support system has steered me through a lifetime of independent study.  The following poem was written in the summer of 1982 which shows the variable paths leading to a holographic universe and how a need to know can persist and discipline a life.   I had no idea there ever would be a place to draw breath let alone draw some conclusions.  I am grateful.  I am.

If You Can Bear The Truth

If they should ever ask you
from where comes this knowledge
and you can bear the truth,  tell them.

It was written in the stars
that I saw with inner vision,
shining exuberantly with a vitality
that bears description.
It was hung by a sun that had dried
my ancestors’ tears for a million centuries.

The lyrics have pressed my ears
in moans that I find unbearable.
Does not everyone hear the cries?
If they should ask you,  tell them this.

It is the music of celebration,
when one, even one,
is freed from a lifetime of servitude
to anguish clogging the throat.
This music is heard
down the long lines of generations
and will be mated in their genes.
They will glory in their freedom
and they will live forever.

So if they ask you
and you can bear the truth, tell them.
It was taught by my Spirit
spilling into my heart with no reprieve
and into my mind with no relief
It is a lifetime of no alibis
and a coping system diffused.

My teacher has no name.
Still the imprint is within my genes,
implanted within my ancestors’ memories,
resting within me.
They do not rest while I cannot.
My song continues, if only for me.
Enough it is

for me to break the waves.



photo by John Holmes

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