Does my myth-science-oriented writing affect my everyday view of the world? No and yes. In the practical mode, I am just an ordinary person, going through the daily moves in my environment and my society.

But in special moments, when I am alone, walking on a trail through the woods, or contemplating a city view while drinking tea, like just now – I turn to this different view – you could call it spiritual. It’s like flicking a switch. I can almost feel the neurons and transmitters in my brain rearranging their patterns.

Everything is different, luminous with meaning, numinous in its sacredness. Then I may write a poem or an essay, pray or meditate.

My meditation is not an emptiness, as it is for some; it is a seeking of hidden connections. If the Universe is unified in the emergent-nascent God, the connections are there, to be discovered.

My mind can’t reach the end, it’s too limited. But the distant light beckons like a light-house in stormy seas, like the Promised Land of Fullfilment that is not mine to reach. My intuition or inner sense may get a little closer, but it too falls short, it is not up to the task.

As the old song about clouds goes:

I’ve seen God from both sides now,
from near and far,
from here to star,
but it’s God’s illusions I recall,
I really don’t know God at all.