“Cat”

 

“I’m not what you think I am. You are what you think I am.”—Unknown.

I’ve been blessed and cursed with an overactive, curious mind, swaying from science towards philosophy then beyond to where Rumi lays in that grass and the world is too full to talk about, and always I come back to “I don’t really know.”

Because it’s the only place I’m truly comfortable.

The kitty above—one I sit for, and love—is part of the social experiment known as “humanity,” an experiment in which everything has been labeled—“cat”, “dog”, “love” etc.—by the subjects of the experiment themselves in a process of proving what exactly the experiment is even while we’re in the middle of living it. Meanwhile, 90% of the known universe is matter (“dark matter”; they posit now it’s a “fluid” of negative mass to where if we pushed on it, it would move towards us) that we can’t even experience with senses or instruments, and in the last 100 years, philosophy became science and just last month, an actual visible mini-moon was discovered that had been in earth’s orbit for three years completely undetected.

And for someone not prone to taking herself seriously anyways, to walk around like the big human expert on what anything is feels ridiculous and counterproductive.

For when even the most basic physical properties are 90% unknown, tossing labels and theories like darts are akin to hitting a “target” we can’t aim for or see and only designate as such after it exposes itself.

If humanity was the one that labeled this experiment, and there’s no objective template or guide outside of ourselves then “I don’t know” shouldn’t be shameful or fearful; it should be natural and lovely. Like accepting the complexity of the universe isn’t ours to maintain, rather it’s ours to experience as the joy of a connection. Where “I don’t know” comes to mean we breathe in a continuously-evolving state of unknowingness, and moments of leaning down to a “cat” becomes “Olivia” looking into our eyes with what looks like magic, and maybe even could be.

 

Fluid

This is beautiful. In the article it says that this “fluid” would have negative mass—rather than being attracted to other mass, would be repelled by it—to where if we pushed on it, it would move towards us. I love that the universe is more than humanity could ever know. It makes me feel reverent in the most peaceful sense.

For when we consider that 90-95% of matter in the universe is, as of yet, undetectable by humans—but rather is scientifically-inferred to be there because among other things, if it wasn’t, the continued expansion of the universe wouldn’t show the cohesion that it does—it becomes easy to imagine that there could also be layers/depths/dimensions of realities our minds aren’t currently capable of perceiving and thus are very real but we currently lack the ability to discern them. And sometimes I think it’s almost better to let your mind be a bit malleable with regards to a strict “reality” because even the most rigorous science is limited by our own human thinking and perceptions which is why Fritz Zwicky was dubbed a nutjob in 1933 when he first theorized dark matter and why now billions of dollars post his “diagnosis”, we live in a world that’s spent 30 years trying to build something so as to directly detect it.

To my feeling, its more reality-based to admit our thinking/perceiving is inherently limited than to assume we have sensorily arrived at some base endpoint, for while we can often agree on the simple realities (physical events, who, what, where, how), even those have to first be processed through the filter of our sensing/perceiving system. And it seems wisest to admit that while we’re embedded within psychological experiences and skewings—surrounded by matter we cannot even perceive, where from only 10% we’ve assumed is all there is—that it’s the most possible thing to say that the genius idea we’re mocking as unrealistic is actually the very thing diagnosing ourselves as the nutjob. Humans should walk around during their day knowing that the most normal thing to believe is that we’re actually only able to experience 10% of the reality that we live inside of.