Wednesday, August 26, 2026
The universe is mainly a verb. Nouns are supposed to be “solid.” But everything is moving, so wouldn’t everything be solid verbs?
Matter is energy slowed down. It’s slowed down enough to seem hardened. But truthfully, everything is energy. Matter and spirit are one.
Your form is a verb—mainly a pattern of rapidly moving cells and molecules. You might consider your body to be a kind of “swirling habitat.” Much like a university is a pattern: the people come and go, the buildings come and go, and the landscape comes and goes. Yet it remains the university—an invisible entity underlying a changing pattern.
So who is the being inside of the pattern? That seems shifty too as we “develop.” Where does the identity come from? If the university is not the buildings, not the landscape, and not the specific people, what is a university? A growing ghost?
If you are not the swirling matter or pattern of cells and molecules, then what are you? Where is the entity that’s supposed to be “in” you? Like a university, the identity remains a mystery evolving. The identity is a concept. What’s strange is, if I’m not the body, the buildings, or the pattern of swirling particles, then is individuation real?
Yes. Individuation is real. As real as a body. As real as a university. As real as a star. As real as a country. As real as the universe.
What is Real may be hard to define, but it is identifiable and self-evident. What is Real doesn’t change and cannot be harmed. It’s a firm—a firmament.
A whirlpool is a noun, but what is it? Is it a vexatious swirl or the nothing-hole in the middle?
Why yes.
Without the ocean, there is no wave.
Without the universe, there is no you.
Without a hole in the middle, there is no whirlpool.