Dive into the ocean hidden in your chest, and discover a new world in yourself. — Attar of Nishapur

Strange and wonderful music reverberates throughout the cosmos.

How is it that millions of fragments can think and act as one? How do starlings form massive murmurations that fire the imagination? Who choreographs hundreds of lightening bugs? How can the physical cells that were once a man mowing lawns split into a billion points of light yet communicate and dance as one? 

And yet, that is exactly where he found himself a millisecond after his heart seized to a stop. Fully awake. Fully alive. Fully aware. Intact. Flying, swirling, weaving, cellular particles turning in on themselves, now a pirouette, revolving, twirling, dancing to the hymn of the universe, flashing through galaxies where time bends and light stands still.

All the molecules he had always called “me” split apart, dissipated, separated, drifting off in varied directions among quasars and nova, swirling about the fiery rings of black holes where space-time curves and braids into strands of aqua light, and where seraphim chant haunting symphonies of harmonious ethereal sounds.

He was quite calm, observing with interest that he was cognizant yet simultaneously in millions of molecules spread over galaxies, swimming in oceans, climbing mountains, strolling through gardens, visiting his widow in her dreams, and flying through space. 

His multiplicity-singularity dove like roosting chimney swifts into a massive black hole where his fragments coalesced into a new body – immortal, no longer susceptible to disease or pain, no longer limited by time or space, able to surf the stars and ride the dolphins across seas of warm grace.

Through wormholes and ripples of space-time, whole, solid, embodied. Here people become musical notes and the colors of the morning. Here, people merge with electromagnetic energy. Eons of oceans surge within Denisovan descendants. 

Here, bighorn sheep speak quietly.

Aborigines explain their intricate petroglyphs to medieval scholars who stroke their beards and consult dusty tomes. 

Here, there are no warriors, no bullies, no officers with guns, no judges with gavels, no cells, no chains. Bombastic politicians lie hog-tied and gagged, merchants weep, and dictators wring their hands while children laugh and play, tossing dreams into the air. Amber stardust floats back to earth and takes the form of talking frogs wearing waistcoats and geese sporting bonnets.

Here Alpha becomes Omega. He swirls with the hymns of the cosmos and communes with the atoms from which he was formed and the seawater that courses through his veins. He can simultaneously be fully present in dozens of places.

Space-time turns out to not be empty, nor cold. There is a substance, an ether, like air to a bird, like water to a fish, in which all dwells. It feels warm, comforting, pleasant, relaxing, and peaceful. Tranquility reigns. 

Deep within, we intuitively sense that we are cradled by something both wonderful and incomprehensible.