The book I want to write would go something like this…

Our dictum has failed us. Both in action and interpretation. If a person recognizes time as an empirically true observation then we may submit that this moment is the most up to date moment in your consciousness and in all of history. At this moment you have more ability, information and resource available to understand reality than any other person living before you.

As I began to write the sentence “Many books are written, but usually on very focused topics. We lack a collective and modern volume of informative interpretation of all of our knowledge, history and various philosophy as it relates to us and our total experience of reality.” something dawned on me. People do not read anymore.

So, this volume would have to be a comprehensive and fast-paced video series. As I thought about the production time required, etc… to produce such a thing, I realized something far more sinister. We have an interactive multimedia network available to us now. With the right cooperation, organization and energy we could create a properly presented interactive experience to help people learn how to come in contact with reality and the endless possibilities of the mind.

We could, indeed, move mountains.

I would ramble on about mystic visions, flowing rivers in lush magic forests and bucolic rural villages of humble ambition and daring imagination. Speak of rites and traditions that would weave you from Leonardo to Olympus and down on into Avalon, Atlantis and beyond. I would give prophecy on fire and steel and machines and cosmic expansion and mind-bending paradigm shifts and inner journeys. Dignify Mr. Verne, explain intelligent life and interpret music for you. Perhaps even entangle Einstein with Buddha if you are lucky. One theory to rule them all, one field to find them, one state to fool them all and in illusion bind them! Poetry is my physics. Cellar Door indeed. That was a dark joke. Some of you will understand that, some of you won’t. Or maybe it would be a novel (No pun intended, Mr. McKenna), some timeless thing of steam-punk innocence but adult and of heavy literary significance where progress imagined and real does not detract from the story holding foot in the esoteric realm. Joyce would be proud, or maybe Fyodor or even Poe! Someone does understand sir. Or perhaps someone more modern, such as a jester, muse or player. Who do we respect these days? Dylan? Reznor? UNDERWOOD? Oh, are we serious here?

The world has many people now, and a lot more dreamers. A billion dreamers results in a billion broken dreams. Thank goodness I’m just a fractal.

All most people really want is to feel worth something, to themselves and to someone else. People look at others who represent the qualities of the person they want to be and who have the characteristics of themselves and feel an association, but they do nothing to achieve that desired state other than desire it. This is where the dream dies. Take a look around and see how many people are just like you.

We’re off to see the Wizard…

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