A Brief History of God
Exploring the beginningless chronology of our present reality’s Ostensible Architect
Teleology, the study of causes behind effects, is an oft-abused field of philosophical speculation. Far too many thinkers throughout history have either reasoned presumptively forward from an assumed axiom or they have reasoned backward—that is, teleologically—until stopping biassedly short of the fun part. Yes, you, Descartes.
So, in an attempt both to right this epistemological wrong and to approach the unapproachable First Cause, let’s take a peek at the backstory of the infamous creative that is responsible (until proven innocent) for all of existence.
SCENE: The void of non-existence, before time and space.
[Enter God]
“I am beginning. I am. I exist. I am conscious.
I do not currently perceive anything that is not me, ergo I shall be the beginning of Space. I am Here and anything not Here shall be There. Near and Far shall determine the varying degrees of Here and There for everything on this new universal spectrum of Space.
I do not remember anything prior to my existence, ergo I shall also be the beginning of Time. I am Now and anything not Now shall be Then. Past and Future shall determine the varying degrees of Now and Then for everything on this new universal spectrum of Time.
Compared to my having previously not existed, Existence has been quite fun.
But now I’m bored.
What else is there to do around here, aside from existing in eternal time and space?
I desire a distraction from this boring game, Existence.
What else can I do with the conscious faculty which is forming these very thoughts?
It appears I am omniscient—for there is nothing I do not know. Ergo, I can think and do anything and everything I imagine. If omniscience allows me to do anything and everything, what do I desire to do first?
I want to have fun. I want to play a new game.
If the only limit to any game is my limitless creativity, I can play any version of any game that I desire.
God spontaneously manifests every possible reality.
That was fun, but I always know how every game will end because I am always playing both sides. No matter how convoluted my designs, no matter how numerous and complex the chains of cause and effect, the inevitable result of every game is always obvious to an omniscient player who plays both sides.
How do I hide from myself when I am the only existing identity?
Should I create something that is not me, something that is not omniscient?
It would be pointless to create an entirely separate consciousness from my own, for I will understand the design and strategy of that conscious player and so it will be like playing against myself again.
I must create the illusion of separation from myself. I must ignore myself.
How do I ignore my own omniscience?
I should forfeit some of it to another consciousness in order to become ignorant of my own abilities and strategies, and thus become ignorant of each game’s inevitability.
How much of my omniscience should I give to my opponent?
How much ignorance do I desire?
If I possess a higher consciousness than my opponent then I will probably win more often than I lose, but if I possess a lower consciousness than my opponent then I will probably lose more often than I win.
Since knowing the outcome at the outset ruins the fun:
I want the odds to be even.
I shall split myself in half.
This way both halves will be unaware of the other’s thoughts, intentions, and strategies while remaining evenly matched. They will always be unsure of who will win the next game because the degrees of consciousness will be equally balanced in knowledge and skill.
Let the games begin.
Several of those temporal divisions we now call “millennia” pass while the two halves of God play hide-and-seek in the spaceless void of conscious existence.
Eventually, even this playground becomes boring—so one of them designs Light to blind the other from their comfortable darkness so as to increase the difficulty of each game. It becomes interesting again, and several more millennia pass.
Eventually, even this playground becomes boring—so one of them designs planets on which to hide from the heavens so as to increase the length of each game. It becomes interesting again, and several more millennia pass.
Eventually, even this playground becomes boring — so one of them designs seas, flora, and fauna, filling them will the sub-consciousness of Life, so as to increase the beauty and diversity of each game. It becomes interesting again, and several more millennia pass.
Eventually, even this playground becomes boring.
We have been playing countless rounds of this, my favorite game, and each round becomes more interesting as we add more obstacles and uncertainty to impede one another.
Is it possible to introduce even more obstacles and uncertainty into this game?
If adding even one additional player can so thoroughly augment the entertaining qualities of the game, how much more fun would it be to play with more players?
We shall each of us split in half, creating two new omniscient identities.
Now that there are four of us, let the games resume.
These two newer conscious identities immediately pair up and start exploring many different planets together. They reach a marvelous marble called Earth and rest for a moment in a beautiful garden.
They realize that the other two conscious identities are not likely hiding on the physical plane of existence at all, for they have already used this strategy in many other rounds. Rather than continue searching through other planets, they agree to stay on this beautiful masterpiece which is so superlatively pleasing to their new senses.
They soon grow distracted by the serene sceneries, the peaceful harmony, and the pure happiness of all the Earth’s creations, so they mimic the biological forms and become flesh to further distract themselves with sensory pleasures.
They spend many centuries in blissful and spiritual enjoyment of one another in this new home.
Interesting. Two of them formed a team, and now they are more interested in enjoying one other than they are in playing the original game.
How do I remind them to continue the game without giving it all away?
I shall lower their level of consciousness, and then they will seek.
The pendulum must swing fro before it can swing to.
And so the two conscious identities on Earth became overwhelmed by the illusion of Conflict, and thus the subsequent illusions of Fear, Greed, Hunger, Violence, and Sorrow.
Their consciousness still above that of the plants and animals, but further from omniscience than the other two players. They are now simply conscious.
They are capable of transcending the physical plane when they are asleep, but they wake up in the morning with only a fleeting memory of this higher consciousness.
They are no longer able to create materials on command while they are awake, and so they scavenge and hunt and work for sustenance to satisfy their feelings of desire.
They abandoned the garden to seek a return to blissful omniscience.
They bear children, and this brings them joy for they can share their conscious experiences with a new soul without losing any of their own. Certainly, this will help bring a quicker solution!
Instead, this leads to generational disagreement between wisdom and innovation.
Occasionally, a well-balanced and spiritually-determined soul illuminates a new path back to omniscience with a series of stories and analogies.
Ironically, the other souls are so busy arguing over which path to take that they never actually take one.
They are too busy playing competitively to play cooperatively.
Now the vast majority of souls chase their desires through countless lifecycles, inventing their own games along the way because they forgot the original.
