Now, today I’m going to dive into cosmologies, a term that many people toss around but rarely unpack. What is a cosmology, really? Let’s start with the idea that a cosmology is an all-encompassing narrative, a paradigm, or a worldview. It’s a personal or collective scaffold, like an interpretive lens, through which one tries to grasp the complexity of existence. People think of cosmology in terms of science or religion, but it’s much more than that. It’s a patterning of understanding, an ecology of ideas that stretches over everything we perceive, from our genetic coding to our daily experiences, to our interactions with others.
It’s worth mentioning that I use words uniquely, as tools of data compression, not unlike the way a dictionary or algorithm packs in layers of information into shorthand. My cosmology includes my lexicon, and it’s my right to bend words, like a poet or an innovator, to carry the exact nuance I intend. It’s a bit like hacking language, breaking down conventional linguistic walls to articulate something that defies pre-defined limits.
Cosmology is, in essence, a matrix. For each of us, it’s uniquely personal, branded on us through our experiences, genetics, memories, and dreams. I’d venture that each person’s cosmology is as distinct as their fingerprint—a “soul metric” if you will. In understanding cosmologies, we must look at them not as static or universal, but as dynamic, deeply individualized, even biometric. Our cosmology is etched into us by everything we’ve encountered: our upbringing, culture, traumas, education, and even the unspoken myths of our ancestors.
When we talk about cosmology, we’re talking about how every thread of experience weaves into the fabric of our consciousness. We all carry narratives, stories we cling to about who we are, who we were, and who we aspire to be. Some of us had childhoods that were nurturing; others grew up in chaos. These form the bedrock of our understanding. Whether you were the compliant student, the rebellious spirit, the outcast, or the golden child—these labels stay with you. They become your filters, your biases, and ultimately, your cosmology.
### The Limits of Thought: Language and Taxonomy
Your ability to think, as I’ve often written, is capped by the words you have at your disposal. Vocabulary isn’t just for communication; it’s the scaffold upon which we build complex ideas. The sciences are prime examples of this limitation. Taxonomy—the classification of organisms—illustrates this well. The words we use to describe nature, like “genus” and “species,” are attempts to pin down the vast diversity of life into neat, understandable boxes. But what if you’re missing the terms? Without the correct vocabulary, you may understand a butterfly in general terms, but you miss the nuanced relationships that connect it to its ecosystem.
When people lack the vocabulary, they’re deprived of a certain depth of understanding. Their thoughts are confined to the generalities they can express, without the details that truly bring an idea to life. It’s as though they’re painting with broad strokes, unable to define the specifics. The brain operates like a programming language: if it lacks the syntax, it lacks the ability to construct certain thoughts. Those gaps in expression create gaps in perception, and thus in our cosmology. Without the proper lexicon, we’re not just inarticulate—we’re mentally impoverished.
Language also shapes the conceptual taxonomies we use to categorize life’s chaos. It builds a hierarchy of meaning from past to present to future, a mental framework within which we try to slot our histories, aspirations, and daily experiences. This hierarchy shifts over time, week by week, year by year, creating an ever-changing landscape that reflects our current self but differs vastly from our former self. This dynamic quality makes journaling or personal documentation crucial. Otherwise, we lose track of the evolution within our own psyche.
### Constructing Our Cosmology: Mapping the Mind
If we take into account factors like cultural and genetic inheritance, we begin to see how layered our cosmologies are. These inheritances aren’t just philosophical—they’re inscribed in us. From epigenetics to ancestral memory, every moment of high emotion or trauma leaves a mark. High points in life, like a peak career achievement or a dopamine rush from a moment of passion, anchor parts of our identity. We then reinforce these anchors through the influence of others—friends, mentors, enemies even. They serve as nodes in a personal network, points on the map of our cosmology.
Consider your mind like a network grid, with nodes and vertices that connect in complex ways. Initially, you might have just a handful of “fixed” points—your most formative memories. Over time, with new experiences and changing perspectives, these points shift, stretch, and morph, becoming thousands, millions of connections. The cosmology you’re working with is alive; it breathes with you. The rigidity of beliefs, however, is a dangerous construct—it denies the mind’s fluidity. Fixed beliefs are like blockages in this mental ecosystem, clogging the neural pathways that otherwise allow for growth and adaptation.
### The Illusion of Self and the Fluidity of Identity
Our identity is far from fixed, though we often cling to it as if it were a life raft. This self-constructed “ego” becomes a sort of mental scaffolding, a reservoir of safety from the unknown depths within ourselves. Much of what we label as “personality” is a coping mechanism to navigate the acid trip we call reality. We hang on to these constructs as if they were the basement railing we’re too afraid to let go of. But this attachment holds us hostage; it keeps us from experiencing the full, fluid nature of our being.
Cosmologies evolve into safety nets, protective systems that keep us from questioning too much. And within these cosmologies, we build a “governing personality,” an ego that functions as a safeguard against our true selves. It becomes a governor of experience, restricting us from venturing into new realms of thought or feeling, lest we lose ourselves. It’s like Einstein’s quest for a Theory of Everything; we strive to fit our entire being into one unified, digestible framework, though we know, deep down, that’s impossible.
### Shortcuts to Understanding: The Easy Out
Some people turn to God, science, or political ideology as catch-all cosmologies. It’s the easy route—believe in something bigger than yourself and let it absorb all the complexity. It’s akin to dropping a fizzy antacid tablet in water: it simplifies, relieves, and reduces the mental burden. It’s comforting but limiting. These general-purpose cosmologies are stacked upon more personalized ones—custom frameworks built from our experiences, education, and lexicon.
When you “understand,” you are placing yourself “under” the standing—submitting to the prevailing paradigm, the societal standard, whether that’s scientific law, religious dogma, or legal precedent. This submission to understanding becomes a sort of shackle, binding you to a particular worldview. The more invested we are in any “standard” understanding, the less likely we are to challenge it. This is why collective beliefs—be they religious, scientific, or cultural—often become cosmological shackles, restricting individual thought.
### The Mirage of Collective Belief and Cultural Conditioning
Here’s a harsh truth: the more you’re convinced that your worldview is the “ultimate reality,” the less likely you are to question it. This is the tyranny of collective belief, the cosmo-political firewall we’re all programmed with. If your beliefs are widely validated by society, you’re less inclined to scrutinize them. In fact, the more support you get, the more deeply you should scrutinize those beliefs. Cultural validation is often the hallmark of mass delusion, the comfort of the herd.
When we look at the history of Western thought—creation myths, nationalistic tales, archetypes like Socrates or da Vinci—these are cultural constructs as much as historical “facts.” They are the broad brushstrokes that society paints across our individual minds, so that we become creatures of our cultural DNA. Every ballpark hot dog, every sitcom, every anthem reinforces this construct. Yet, what if all these aspects of collective memory and myth are merely constructs, placeholders that confine our imaginations within an agreed-upon reality?
### Solipsism and the “Self-Only” Trap
At a philosophical level, one of the biggest traps in cosmology is solipsism—the belief that you, as an individual, are the only real thing, and everything else is a reflection of your mind. This narcissistic cosmology implies that everyone else is merely a Non-Player Character (NPC), a background actor in the simulation of your life. But what if each of us is a fractal, a recurring, self-similar pattern, mirroring ourselves across time and experience?
If you mix cosmologies—solipsism with collective cosmologies, for instance—you open Pandora’s box. Mixing metaphors, blending frameworks, these practices are dangerous yet liberating. They imply the highest level of compartmentalization, and anyone attempting to navigate this labyrinth risks madness. But madness and enlightenment often share the same thin line.
### Compartmentalization and Cognitive Dissonance: Tools for Expanding Consciousness
This is where compartmentalization becomes a tool. If we can temporarily suspend our default cosmology and explore others without abandoning our core self, we can expand our consciousness. Art, poetry, and metaphor are invaluable tools here. They give us the latitude to express paradoxical ideas without falling apart mentally. You might use tarot, if that’s your thing, or delve into the surreal—these are ways to explore multiple facets of reality without losing yourself to one perspective.
Back to solipsism—it’s a concept that you are the only “true” consciousness, with everyone else merely reflecting aspects of yourself back at you. Yet, if you extend this to a collective sense, it’s no longer just about self-reflection; it’s about containerized versions of yourself in interaction with each other. The masculine aspect meeting the feminine, the rational encountering the intuitive—these aren’t just external encounters but reflections of internal dynamics within you.
### Fear, Social Conditioning, and the Limits of Imagination
Imagine if you were free from social fear—fear of humiliation, starvation, death, or rejection. Would you be more imaginative? Would your cosmology expand to include truths that currently terrify you? We’ve been conditioned to stay within narrow lanes, to navigate only within “acceptable” frameworks, lest we face ostracization. But to follow these “lines” from cradle to grave is to be dead before you’ve even lived.
Our cosmologies, our worldviews, are largely confined by these invisible boundaries of fear. Yet, if we recognize these boundaries and question them, we may find new ways of seeing, experiencing, and being. A truly liberated cosmology doesn’t fear the dark or the unknown. It embraces uncertainty, dances with paradox, and refuses to be confined by cultural narratives.
### Technology, Science, and the Modern Cosmology
We live in a world where technology and science have become cosmologies in themselves. They dictate language, ethics, values, and even our perception of reality. “The Matrix” and similar narratives have embedded themselves into our collective consciousness, shaping a world where we view reality as a potential simulation. But these frameworks are still limited—they may replace old myths, but they do not necessarily offer us liberation. They give us mental security, but sometimes at the cost of true exploration.
Science, too, is a cosmology, with its own lexicon, dogmas, and hierarchies. It’s a powerful tool, but it’s also a restrictive one when it becomes dogmatic. When science becomes a replacement for God, it limits the questions we’re allowed to ask. It stifles the imagination in favor of so-called rationality.
### Moving Beyond the Matrix of Cosmologies
To truly break free, we need to question every aspect of our cosmologies, from the personal to the collective. We must risk the chaos of no longer fitting neatly within a single framework. True exploration, true imagination, begins when we let go of the need for certainty, when we allow our minds to stretch beyond the bandwidth of society’s approval.
So, if you’re willing to confront the unknown, to mix and merge frameworks, to blend the lines between science, art, spirituality, and intuition, you might just create a cosmology that is as unique as your fingerprint. And in doing so, perhaps you’ll find that you’re not a prisoner in your own mind, but an explorer in an infinite, ever-changing landscape. This is the ultimate act of liberation: the creation of a personal, evolving cosmology that defies convention and celebrates the boundless potential of human consciousness.
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