The universe itself has no interest whatsoever in being told or proven what it is, my grandfather always says. And it is thus a futile mistake to put the logos before the Cosmos, my great-grandmother persistently adds.
They both agree that the neo-galactic state of intrinsic order, harmony, cosmetic aesthetic brilliancy, and assigning every particle there is its appropriate functionality originally characterised the universal design long before language, rhetoric, reason, or the drive to rationally convince the Cosmos of its own truths was established by the existential minutiae that is man.
Knowing existence is a priori a matter of elementary intimacy, my great-grandmother will empathically say. Naturally, she insists, any meaningful relationship with the Cosmos will always begin and end with doting imaginal projections.
Papi agrees and explains that certainly the material dynamic of cosmic existence – the quarks, particles, elements and all the beautiful mass and objects they produce – can only truly be grasped by way of the imagination, simply because Matter’s universal properties react in a very particular way when met by the waves of intra-psychic reflection.
The universe has no desire to have the formula it runs on explained, my grandfather repeats out of habit. This, he maintains, would be a most superfluous objective, certainly from its own perspective.
While the cosmos itself remains unchanged and inanimate by merely being analysed, papi clarifies, it is, on the contrary, malleable in various chemical and energetic ways when the creative code shaping its randomly and unconsciously generated attributes reacts with the charge emitted by psychological fantasies. (We all agree in my family, by the way, that the scientific mind of man is at its grandest, most ingenious and unforgettable where it remains indebted to the theorems’ origin in the intuitive imagination.)
Maman told us very early on that the heat generated by the intensity of the innate search for image in one’s own materiality does not fundamentally change your character’s elemental quality; what it does, nevertheless, - the individual script of the fantasy that ensues - is leave a signature, a unique watermark of sorts, on the elemental quarks. That way, the atomic building blocks forming your material nature originally will be recognisable distinctively as they continue roaming about the universe randomly once your organic life will no longer be.
The principle is, maman always says, that while everything passes, moves on or transforms as the cosmos expands, nothing is ultimately lost.
What matters to the universe, my ancestry concludes, is not at all the idea of becoming conscious of itself; it is the resonance of infinite precision and individual nuclear distinction that sets apart and electrifies the infinitely vast cosmic constellation. The reflections of every thing’s material likeness through the psyche's sensory musings produce the notes sounding out the beautiful silent melody of the universe’s magical chaotic harmony, they say.
And if you pay attention to the psyche’s imagination and its fantastic inventory of your individual materiality, concludes nanni, you will be able to hear the beat and dance to it; given, of course, Everything in you remains unconsciously alert and unconditionally mute.