“There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, than are dreamt of in your philosophy.”


Realize that there is a world out there where things have evolved under circumstances so different than our world, where there is a nature that is not our nature.

Because the universe is so so vast, the odds are that these other worlds must exist. Being created as we speak right now. Many worlds, containing so many things, like, ecosystems, life, technologies…

But these other worlds are so alien from our own, I wonder if we could even recognize them? Would they exist in a place which requires a perspective our minds have not learned yet?

Would they exist in different states, flitting between quantum worlds so we can only see them momentarily in the world we are tuned to? Does Mars, or even closer, the moon, contain these worlds, and we simply don’t have the tools and mindset to see them yet?

The frontier of the universe is more than going places, physically moving through space in some vessel or looking through the viewfinder of a telescope or microscope. Travelling this frontier is about realizing what may be, and creating new tools to see them. It’s about discovering new states of existing that we cannot even dream about. Yet.

Layered states, working independently but existing at once: Worlds set into worlds set into other worlds, like nesting Russian dolls, where we go from one set of laws, to another set of another laws, each inconsistent with the next, but working in some cooperation so that all the world co-exist, each in plain sight, or completely invisible until someone breaks the barrier our minds have maintained, and then humanity can stream into this new place, as if we knew it was there all along, and how silly for our ancestors to not have realized these things are existing right there in front of us, or more radically, existing inside of us all along, like bacteria in our gut. Or an ability to travel without leaving our physical shells.

Now that is a lesson in humility. And human potential.


Follow me and I will take you away from the everyday.


Yeast makes bread, beer, and men

beer hot tub

(Pin it here to read later)

The boy at the sales counter picked up the can. “What’s this?” he asked his father.
“It’s to grow yeast,” his father said, as he paid for his things.
“Yee-ust?” the boy said.
“Yeast,” his father said.
“What’s that?” the boy asked.
The question hung in the air, as the clerks bagged the beers and said nothing. I waited a few seconds, hesitating, then said, “Yeast are living things, they’re really small, so you can’t see them, but they’re all around. They float in the air, and they can be on this counter top.” I patted the countertop.
The boy looked at me with simple amazement. Then he turned to his father, for some kind of confirmation or reassurance. The father was getting his receipt but stopped and nodded.
I continued: “Do you see when your food goes bad, and it gets black, or brown? That’s yeast and other small living things like it.”
“I’ve seen green stuff,” the boy said excited.
“Yes,” I nodded, “that’s yeast growing on the food, They’re eating the food.”
“Yes,” the father said, “There’s good yeast and bad yeast.” Then he grabbed his bags. “Say thank you.” he said.
The boy wasn’t paying attention. The father prodded him, and looked at me, “say thank you”. I was surprised he was telling the boy to thank me.
“Thank you,” the boy said distracted, still thinking over the idea of these invisible things that surround him.
“Thank you,” the father looked at me earnestly. “You’re welcome,” I told them.
And the two left.
And then I thought, I think I just blew that kid’s mind.
The child’s curiosity. Why did we lose it?

Follow me and I will take you away from the everyday.

Everything special becomes ordinary

Julie and mermaid
Photo by Joakim Hjelm. More spectacular prints sold at: http://joakimhjelmphotography.instaproofs.com/store/

Ever been out on the ocean? It’s overwhelming at first, but after a few days, months, years, it’s just a huge bathtub of water you’re on. Life is like an ocean. You can stay close to shore, in the bay, where it’s calm, where you can see the bottom, and you know exactly what you’re going to get, you know what to expect. Or you can venture out into the deceptively unremarkable, rolling expanse of blue.

The ocean is vast like life, and if you live it conservatively, on the surface, skimming along half in the water, and half out, you miss all the beauty and interaction below.Every moment of your walking around, there’s a veneer of the everyday stuff, the ordinary. But under that surface of ordinary blue, gently repeating waves of life, beyond the traffic of endless cars, streams of people walking by, the stores opening and closing, there’s a special experience, if you just punch through the surface, strip off the coat, go a little deeper, and explore. How to get there? Ask how someone is doing. Genuinely. Then ask them what they’re doing. And really listen to them. It’s simple, but that’s the point.

Everything extraordinary is simple. And everything simple is extraordinary.

Here’s the proof: Everything that is special becomes ordinary.

Your new car, the latest and greatest cell phone, even your partner can become unappreciated…so couldn’t a good argument be made that everything ordinary is special, if you’d just look at it differently? If you’d push back on that daily trek around your little world and get out of your flight path. Instead, extend your boundary beyond the shallows of your ocean, the place you’ve acclimated to, and made your home, where everything is visible, calm, and repetitively risk-free.

Life is going to end, our chartered boat is rented and it’s going to be reclaimed by the earth, whether we like it or not. It would be a shame if we didn’t take her out there into that wide beautiful expanse of blue world, throw an anchor down every so often, and dive into the currents. Exploring, underneath it all, beyond the traffic of endless cars, the streams of people walking by, the stores opening and closing. On the surface, all this is ordinary, until you get past it, and see what supports it all: The people, the relationships, the connections, decisions, hopes, desires, and frustrations of humanity. All the ordinary stuff that’s extraordinary once you’re swimming in it, too.

Everything special becomes ordinary, so everything ordinary can be special.
Don’t ignore the ordinary.