Across The Great Divide of Night
One of the central tenants of my suspicions regarding the series of membranes we inhabit (that can easily be surmised by direct observation) relates equally to metaphysics as well as physics, is the seeming enfoldment of these membranes into one another by a series of superimpositions, that are potentially coherent or, if you, will, being One, which is an age old metaphysical issue from Ibn Al Arabi to Philip K Dick, and perhaps most eloquently being presented as a library by Borges, and, most recently, by Jacques Vallee.
In the "Crimson Hexagon" Borges's narrator describes how his universe consists of an enormous expanse of interlocking hexagonal rooms, each of which contains the bare necessities for human survival—and four walls of bookshelves. Though the order and content of the books is random and apparently completely meaningless, the inhabitants believe that the books contain every possible ordering of just a few basic characters letters, spaces and punctuation marks). Though the majority of the books in this universe are pure gibberish, the library also must contain, somewhere, every coherent book ever written, or that might ever be written, and every possible permutation or slightly erroneous version of every one of those books. The narrator notes that the library must contain all useful information, including predictions of the future, biographies of any person, and translations of every book in all languages. Conversely, for many of the texts some language could be devised that would make it readable with any of a vast number of different contents.
I have diverged from their shared path into seeing these related phenomenon as more likened to the workings of cellular intelligence, working as autonomously as our nervous system but seemingly in a interactive manner dependent on who is looking and where, as well as intent and anticipation adding their own pixels to a experiential anomaly, or, more accurately, a variety of them.
Well, all that is fine and dandy, but where exactly is this locationless location termed by PKD as VALIS, that mysteriously co-inhabits and expands our universe as a storage state in flux, and, as I suspect and have written about much earlier, seems to be the basis of the expansion of the material universe as two sides of the same mirror? We seem poised between both sides, pinned with a fear of the dark with no alternative but to be pushed forward into the unknown as we cling to the familiar instinctively, and, as a consequence, there are many in the community of sciences who obsessively dwell on the repeatable.
“Each leaf that brushed his face deepened his sadness and dread. Each leaf he passed he'd never pass again. They rode over his face like veils, already some yellow, their veins like slender bones where the sun shone through them. He had resolved himself to ride on for he could not turn back and the world that day was as lovely as any day that ever was and he was riding to his death.”
― Cormac McCarthy, Child of God
Not being as talented as the in-house scribes of NASA, I will allow them to explain a very strange state of affairs which may provide a substantive clue as to the other side of a mirror, or , again, more accurately, a series of mirrors...as explained further on.
Of course the principle of the mirror is reflected light and then journeying back to metaphysics, we have the gnostic Sufi tradition telling us that the greatest form of light in all of it's permutations is what they refer to as "black light." Is it any wonder that as children as well as some of us who grew into adulthood fear darkness, the absence of light...Call this an experiential metaphor. Is there a proverbial alligator hiding under our beds deeply buried as a bone in our psyche, or is it simply "all in our minds" as many a parent suggested? This may be a portrayal of something we sense instinctively, that what we cannot see can harm us but this sort of ignorance works both ways in building proverbial moats and walls through the rigorous application of belief systems although none of them can see into these dark matters anymore than we can. The old saying, "Don't get go of nurse, because there maybe something in the bushes ten times worse" also seems apt for a majority of us.
“Reality denied comes back to haunt.”
― Philip K. Dick, Flow My Tears, the Policeman Said
The play of light and darkness was of great importance in Phillip K Dick's last years in order to formulate a theory of a conceptual cosmological model that addresses our whys and wherefores.