The 0

For millions of years we lived. We roamed. We bred. Beneath the stars, in the dark, we made fire… for our family. Our tribe. For millions of years. 

We lived, and the Earth belonged to us and we belonged to the Earth. And the only thing we truly owned were our own existence. Did we look up then, as we do now, wondering why we are here? 

The time frame of our galaxy is incomprehensible. The oldest star is over 13 billion years old. If it had eyes it would miss our own journey through time in one single blink. We are nothing to it. Yet we are everything. We are conscious. We are players, and the universe is our stage.

 
head
 

Our history is full of violence. We murder each other. We rape each other. We steal, and lie… and we hate. And we have had hate and envy for thousands of years. Not millions… thousands. Hate came recently. Like a pimple newly formed, full of puss. 

Hundreds of years, not thousands, not millions or billions… but hundreds of years… that is how long we have really been suffering from this spiteful, vile, hateful pimple stuck at the very centre of our forehead like a black bindi. With a squeeze and it is gone. 

But only love can squeeze… love is in all things. Even hate contains love, did you know that? That is why hate can never destroy love, because hate is already infected. 

Watch. 
Listen. 

In silence… 
and you will understand that the universe is in love. 

It might seem cold, and harsh and violent, but it is only passion. The sun is passion. The moon is love. And we are the Child.

And what is God but a word. 

I cannot believe in a word. Letters cannot have my faith. When God is spoken as a word God dies because every word is corrupted with associations. Supreme Being, Force, Allah… no… no word… instead let’s use a zero as its symbol. 0.

 
ouroboros
 

0 is love. 
0 is you.
0 is me. 


0 + 0 = 0
0 - 0 = 0
0 x 0 = 0
0 / 0 = 0

1 + 0 = 1


And that is 1 too many.

We start from nothing, and enter something… and in the end we will always return to nothing. And nothing is everything. 

Persian poet Rumi wrote:

“Even if you lose yourself in wrath for a hundred thousand years, at the end you will discover, it is me, who is the culmination of your dreams.”

Natural Born Alchemist © 23 March 2015