by Roland Allnach
In the Beginning, the Deity pondered.
It was not like the random thought of a man, but in some ways it was indeed like that of a man, in such a way that a man could understand the Deity. For It was the Deity, and It was boundless, and in the beginning, It was a curious thing, for It knew not of Itself. It was more like a man who first falls asleep and begins to dream, for though he dreams and the dream exists within itself, it is nevertheless master of the vessel in which it unknowingly resides—and yet it knows not how that vessel functions, and what laws it must obey. So it was with the Deity, for though It was aware of Itself, It was not yet conscious unto Itself, and the universe, which was Its vessel, was an unknown thing.
So it was, and the Deity considered this, and though Its thoughts were as yet without shape, there was one thought that gained shape of its own as a question. It resonated at the Deity’s core, and so became seamless with the Deity, and remained open, as endless as the Deity Itself.
This fundamental question was simplicity incarnate, and though there was yet no notion of language, it nevertheless awoke within the Deity, and the question was this:
The universe, for all its complexity, is akin to a song.
Such was the way the Deity became aware of Itself, and illuminated a momentous deduction, that all which was in existence had not existed before. Being the Deity, It knew all, and so knew with certainty of Itself, but not of that beyond Itself. And in that pondering It began to associate those parts of Itself that were It but not recognized as such. Like a sighted man who has lived his life in total darkness, not understanding what sight is until he first sees light and perceives a timeless but unrealized reality around him, so it was with the Deity as Its pondering took new forms, and reached new extents, and became fully conscious of the universe that was its body.
In this way the Deity became aware of all the mysterious laws and mechanisms of the universe, like a man waking to the function of every cell and synapse within him. And it was perhaps a strange moment in the universe, for the Deity not only became aware of all the laws of how Its vessel functioned, not only gained innate and instantaneous understanding of the firmament of Its vessel, but heard the living echo that was the remnant of Its creation.
That sound was the low, undulating whoosh of cosmic radiation, a haunting melody that for eternity would knit the universe together to form the Deity’s vessel. And It thought of this melody as a song, and so became aware of rhythm, and with rhythm the Deity in Its vastness considered the alternating nature of rhythm. It was the property of change, of things that were, then were not, and then were again, so that the Deity perceived singular images of Itself and the changes between them. It then brought temporal order to those images, and so brought order as well to the universe.
By such work the Deity implemented Time.
Yet Time was a plaything, and even though it was of the Deity’s creation and so part of the Deity, in the vastness of the Deity it was meaningless.
But in the evasive slipstream of the Deity’s complex consciousness, It became aware of something It had not considered before in the creation of Time. It went back to Its thought of time, of things that were and then were not and then were again, and translated them to three interconnected states: that which was known, that which is known, and something mysterious—that which is yet to be.
The Deity decided to look upon these three unruly siblings as Past, Present and Future. The Past was predictable, and ordered, and the Deity thought little of it, for the Past was obedient and dutiful in its predictability, and once something went to it, the Past changed to accept it and put it to rest. The Present was curious, and embodied many things that the Deity prized within Itself, for the Present was at once all knowing and yet all learning, and the energy of its endless curiosity was a gift that the Deity bestowed upon it, so that it, like the Deity, might embrace the vessel of the universe, and not become mute like the Past.
And then there was the Future, the capricious offspring of the Deity that embodied a part of Itself always new and uncreated in any possession of the Present. In the energy of Its pondering the Deity came to understand that It only existed as there was yet some other manifestation of the universe for It to absorb. The moment Its pondering ceased the vessel would go dark, for It would then preclude the necessity of Its own existence and vanish with the universe as if neither had existed.
It remembered the fundamental question of why, and knew then as well the first reason for the question’s existence.
But in the greater unknown of those ruminations the Deity knew not what was to come of Its own thoughts, which lay beyond the mechanistic doldrums of Its vassal vessel universe. Within was something the Deity came to call Uncertainty, and Uncertainty was the wild spirit that kept the Future darting about the universe to set the Deity upon new paths to explore. For the Deity knew not where Its thoughts might wander, even as It was driven with inexorable momentum to evolve new thoughts to necessitate Its existence. So the Deity came to understand that with the creation of Time It saved Itself, for without Time, the Deity’s considerations might lock in repetitive loops and erode the fundamental question.
Time continued, and the Future came in its endless forms and, with the servitude of Past and the endless curiosity of Present, the ages of the universe took shape.
The Deity, though, was restless.
It thought often of the song of the universe, and sought to weave other things into the song, for the song was the metronome of Time, and as such kept check on the unruly siblings of Past, Present, and Future. It only seemed natural, and right, to set all things the Deity created within the universe to follow the song. This greater melody It then knew as the Song and, after much thought, the Deity renamed it Nature.
Then came a great blossoming, for as the Deity explored the wondrous couplings of the physical universe on all levels of scale the myriad forms of Its contemplations illustrated every reality within the universe. Countless incarnations of the Song came about in Nature, spawning life in the diurnal variations and separate circadian cycles of countless orbiting bodies. It was an exquisite dance of particles, atoms, molecules; of planets, stars, solar systems; of galaxies and super clusters. All were set in motion and balanced within Nature, kept in harmony with the Song made possible by Time. They could move and alternate and be things in one moment that they were not in the previous moment, and yet be something else in the wondrous unknown of the Future.
Oceans took their tides, trees grew through their seasons, and leaves gained their color as they wavered in the rustling winds of change.
And yet, the Deity remained restless.
It questioned Itself for many ages, puzzled that despite all It had wrought through the creation of Time and the birth of Nature that the universe was as yet sterile with predictability. The prospect left Future dejected, and with its gloom the Deity at once understood what Nature lacked: an unbridled element of change, an element that could, like the Deity, summon thought.
And the first thought would be none other than the fundamental question.
To read "Beheld" in full please visit Raphael's Village at: