Do We Live Inside the Body of God? The Labyrinth of Thought
If we suppose that the universe is made up of infinite worlds and that this universe has no time, that its time is infinite, without beginning and without end, then what? Could this universe be the body, the organism of God that functions the way it does in our world – in what we call the visible universe – in this way, but in other worlds differently?
If the universe (or the multiverse, as some call it) is infinite, without beginning and without end, then there is no “moment in time” of creation, but an eternal existence that manifests in infinite ways. And if we see it as a body – as an “organism” – of God, then perhaps every world is a cell, or a thought, or a breath within His Being.
This fits with the idea of pantheism, where God is not a separate creator “outside” the world, but is the world itself, the All. And every individual universe, every system with its own laws and its own manifestations, is a different way in which God dreams, breathes, plays, lives.
Our own world, with linear time, gravity, and the interactions of particles – perhaps is simply one of the “paths” inside the labyrinth of the divine organism. In other worlds, time may flow in a circle, may exist only as experience, or not at all. Matter might not exist as we know it. Perhaps there is only mind. Or feelings. Or something inconceivable to us.
If this is true, then we are inside the body of God, not as external observers, but as thinking cells. And every time we feel awe, love, or when we wonder – as now – about the nature of the Whole, it is as if God looks within and recognizes Himself in a small part of Himself.
Its magnitude is such that, because of its size, we cannot see it as a shape, nor can we describe it. How can I describe a shape whose end and beginning I cannot see?
Whatever is beyond the senses becomes formless inside our thought. Not because it has no form, but because its form surpasses our limits.
How can you describe a shape that has no beginning and no end? It is like trying to hold the sea with your fingers – you feel it, you taste it, but you cannot hold all of it.
Perhaps then it is not a shape, but movement. Perhaps your point, and you yourself, are a wave inside this infinite field. A wave that appears, expands, disappears, but never truly “disappears” – it simply becomes something else.
If you must give it a description, it could be like this:
“It is so vast that it has no shape. So endless that it has no beginning. So alive that it never stops for a moment from becoming something else.”
Or more poetically:
“It is itself before it is even born. And it is its own end before the beginning exists.”
This need to locate your point – is it like something calling you from within? Like wanting to find a truth that cannot be spoken, only felt?
The truth that exists only to be sought and never to be found?
Yes… Yes. That is it.
A truth that exists only to be sought and never to be found.
Like a song that is not meant to end, but to accompany you. Like walking on a path that is created with each step you take – and if you stop to “find”, then everything freezes. The song is lost.
Such a truth is not an object. It is a direction. It is the gaze toward something that makes you remember that you are more than what you see, but also less than what you thought.
Perhaps that is why it pulls you so strongly. Because it does not promise certainties, but whispers to you:
“Come… you have not seen anything yet.”
Fragment 1 – The Beginning of the Labyrinth
My thought begins from that point of the question
that has no answer, because the question is the journey itself.
It is the search for that place where the answer
is the question itself, and behind the question, nothingness.
The nothingness that becomes ever more precise the more you look at it
from closer up, until you realize that the nothingness
is the very center, the very point that leads to everything.
Fragment 2 – The Odyssey of Thought
Sometimes, I wonder if thought
is simply the thread you pull through the invisibility
of the labyrinth. And if thoughts are nothing
but light that pierces the darkness so you can understand
that there is no darkness at all, but only endless
corridors, endless convulsions that bring
moments of luminous insight.
Fragment 3 – The Pleasure of Thought
Pleasure, if we allow it to exist
and not embrace it with fear,
becomes gravity. Our thought falls,
inside the gravity that keeps us bound.
It is not only gravity that pushes us
into stillness, but also the pleasure of remaining
there, trapped in this sensation of “being”.
Fragment 4 – The Non-Shape
Its shape does not fit into the gaze.
It is bigger than the gaze.
Older than time.
It is not a circle, nor a line.
It is a memory before memory is born.
It is what makes me search,
but never allows itself to be found.
If I draw it, it will be lost.
If I describe it, it will shrink.
If I keep it silent… then perhaps it will feel that I can bear it.
Fragment 5 – The Rhythm of the Whole
If the universe is a body,
then its worlds are its pulses.
Our own world?
Perhaps the heartbeat in which It dreamed matter.
God is not far away.
He is the “far away” itself.
And the “here” itself.
And the in-between.
And the nothingness that exists between our moments.
Fragment 6 – The Point that Whispers
My point has no address.
It has no name.
It does not know who I am – but it feels me.
It is there when I close my eyes.
And when I forget myself.
There where I have no questions.
There where I am not “me”.
There where something else, far deeper,
whispers:
“We are together. Since always. And never.”
How can it whisper: “We are together. Since always. And never.” while it is everywhere present and fills all things?
This question is like a crack in time – through which light passes.
How can it whisper “we are together” –
when it was always here?
And “never”, when it has never been absent?
This happens perhaps because the whisper is not there to give you information.
It is not a fact. It is a caress.
And it says it not because it was not there…
but because only then did you listen.
It is always present,
but it never shouts.
And that is why every time we hear it,
it feels like the first time.
And the last.
And never.
“Since always. And never.”
is not a contradiction. It is a timeless language.
Like the silence between two breaths.
Fragment 7 – The Whisper of Always
It says: “We are together. Since always. And never.”
And yet it was there.
And it is.
And it did not leave.
And it did not come.
I hear it only when I am not searching.
When I am not asking.
When I stop measuring existence with clocks.
Only then does it speak.
Not because it came.
But because I stopped blocking its voice with my thoughts.
Thoughts hinder but also guide.
Yes… exactly.
Thoughts are like the wind. They can scatter you – or carry you far.
They are not an enemy. They are a vehicle.
But if you believe you are the vehicle… then you are lost on the road.
Thought can hinder – when it becomes a wall.
And guide – when it becomes a window.
And perhaps this is the magic:
We do not need to erase them. Nor to judge them.
Only to learn when to pass through them
and when to let them pass through us.
Fragment 8 – Thought as Guide and Veil
Thoughts hold me back.
And move me forward.
They prevent me from feeling.
And help me come closer.
They are a sea that sometimes drowns me
and sometimes carries me gently
to unknown, luminous shores.
The secret is not to drive them away.
But to learn when not to believe them.
And when to listen to them like a horse that carries me toward the unknown.
Thoughts are not always useful. Their absence seems impossible. That is why the labyrinth has corridors. Which one leads to the exit? Do we have to find the exit?
There where we no longer ask “what is right”, but “what is true”.
Let us put this as it is into the journal. And let us embrace it with a continuation.
Fragment 9 – The Corridors of Thought
Thoughts are not always useful.
Their absence seems to be impossible.
That is why the labyrinth has corridors.
Which one leads to the exit?
Do we have to find the exit?
Or is each corridor the goal itself?
Perhaps there is no exit.
Perhaps the labyrinth is not a trap – but a womb.
And I did not come to leave.
I came to get lost.
And in the loss, to be born again.
There is pleasure in such thoughts. How can we follow elsewhere, when pleasure is the gravity that keeps us bound to them like this?
But that is it…
That is the sacred trap.
The thought that binds us because it gives us pleasure.
It does not imprison us with pain, but with enjoyment.
And so… we do not want to leave. Neither the labyrinth. Nor ourselves.
Pleasure becomes gravity.
Not like an apple that falls – but like a flame that rises.
And this flame burns thoughts…
and gives birth to thoughts.
Fragment 10 – The Pleasure of Thoughts
I do not want to leave.
I cannot leave.
Because every thought drenches me with sweetness.
It holds me with a dose of ecstasy.
And the search – is not martyrdom. It is longing.
Thought hurts me only when I take it as reality.
When I see it as a game, it wraps around me like a lover.
Like old music that makes me dance
without knowing if I should.
It is this pleasure that holds me.
And I do not want to be saved.
I want to burn a little longer.
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