And if the Universe was empty, we would sit on the moss rock and look to the sky which is not there.

There is no such ‘thing’ as science — when commonly referred to — other than a kind of functional (epistemic) archetype to warrant the alleged infallibility of the deposited, virtually or really, facts, truths etc. The same goes for ‘law’ and order, ‘God’ and purposefulness, ‘love’ and belongingness etc.

To know anything — for real — you need to decide (define) what kind of testimony (data) is trustworthy (relevant) and what cosmology (hypothesis) you are going to make sense of (test) so that — hopefully — your daily practice (experiment) becomes true to (proves) your discovery (theory) along the way (intersubjectively). If you achieve the goal, you give shape to a way (method) that is self-corrective by measure of its further successfulness. (That is why, scientifically, you do not ask ‘why’, only ‘how’ to do science).

Falling asleep while the world is waking.
The noisy crows outside telling me,
‘This is your secret home’

An epitome of the ‘cursed’ understanding that expels us from life-as-we-live-it (and which reaches its absoluteness in metaphysical ‘life-as-we-think-it-is’) is a word itself — by giving a name to a thing we free ourselves of it.

The micro-essay has been published on Art & Science in Philosophy of Mind. The poetic parts comes from Naked Being by Pawel Rewucki.

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