Observer

I learn about something, a fact, an idea, or a concept, then I'm scratching my head, struggling to understand how it's true. Like, considering the impossible.

For example, quantum physics. It curls my brain into question mark pretzels, so that I almost have to "feel" what I'm learning. Contemplating other dimensions is like trying to leave the room without moving, or, like leaving and staying in place at the same time.

My consciousness and the cosmos are in fact always inseparable, but there's a constant and convincing illusion that some division exists, and this trick is accomplished thru an endless myriad of momentary distractions called "life".

Mathematical magicians assure us that the computational certainty of these other dimensions is beyond question, all of which doesn't help conundrums of unanswered enigmas, and how I go about steering this mortal wheel's roll.

It's believed that I, as observer, must at the same exact time affect all I see, and that there is no real separation of either, observer and observed are one- mutually defining the nature of reality.

My mind shrugs its shoulders of reason, trying to accept scientific discovery. So many things I learn, I'm left with the symptoms of incredulity, implausible design, this expanding universe of unknown mystery, and awestruck beauty.