A conspiracy of being:
it’s all a conspiracy of being, that somehow the universe exist in such a way for my existence, and in any differing point of infinite chance, it all simply could be other. I am because everything is just so, balanced, and harmonize for the sake of being. With no idea of why this is true and no wish to assigned a higher purpose other than a wish for life — I exist and this is cause for deep gratitude from my end. None of this ever had to be and only by great fortune it is so. I am alive and I am grateful.
this is a conspiracy of what’s unseen, not of power but of grace — it’s a universe of design without a grand designer in place to call for order. It’s existence in conspiracy with itself, perhaps surprised to find itself aware of all that is occurring, a spontaneous awakening expressed as individual sense of being. I have no idea and of course this is only speculation. To find myself aware is my own surprise, a big bang of smaller proportion yet equal measure — I have come from seemingly nothing, nowhere, and found myself a complete system of balancing events that all occur beyond any thought of my control. At this point I only know that I exist, an aspect of life with a wish to be expressed.
a conspiracy of being, it’s something that holds these gathered things together — without question I am infinite particles, molecules, and cells in a universe of personal concern. My body happens in a delicate harmony of events, a chemical reaction without cause for my response. In this sense too, I belong to events that host my sense of being, a universe of both chaos and tenderness, somehow perfect for me to be, and providing the means to be awakened. I seem to be in on this conspiracy in some curious way, to be aware of this fragile balance without fear of being unraveled through the endlessness of my surroundings. It somehow seems that I belong within it all, a point of light as true as any star. That’s the tenderness of it, my belonging to the whole, and that I don’t unravel for the simple reason that there is elsewhere else for me to be. I am an arranged state within existence, a conspiracy of being, a gathering of stuff somehow found aware.
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