Thus there is nothing waste, nothing dead in the universe; no chaos, no confusions, save in appearence. We might compare this to the appearence of a pond in the distance, where we can see the confused movement and swarming of the fish, without distinguishing the fish themselves.

Thus we are that each living body has a dominante entelechy, which in case of an animal is the soul, but the members of this living body are full of other living things, plants and animals, of which each has in turn ita dominant entelechy or soul. - Gottfried Leibniz, Monadology 69-70

The self is both real and not-real; it is here and nowhere. The mind is a no-mind, but a no-mind that en-minds, enfleshing sensation. Touch pianos being. I heal; over-and-again. I heal.

Holy One, we dwell in you. We dwell in us. Us. I am also an us, galaxies of micro-life unfolding their species being. I am the cosmos for others. Others are a cosmos for me. There is never only one world. Hear. Every rustle is worlds-in-motion, the universe shimmering eternities in a modal sea. We are infinities.

I sit still. I listen. Wait. Beauty appears first; sensation sparks aisthesis. Being poems life. Take a step back and the real swallows you, the real caresses. Where do the archons go in the winter? I spellfree my past-selves, the archipelago of ashes. I unfold like an ethic. The pluricosmos composes you; you are a many-unfolding. History owls the presentfuture. In the many-unfolding the Unique appears as awareness, the appearance that appears to itself. This Unique orients, it intends, it leans, it attends, and it acts, it means. Meaning is planted in the first Uniquing.

Loved One, I attend to you. I attend to us. Attending is always attending-with-another, painter, painted, and paint intertwined. One experiences as the subjectobject, entangled-becomings sculpting a world-together. Ontology is attending to the entangled worlds of our togethering. Time re-members in the dreamsleep of awakening. Shhh. Wait. Listen. Silence does. It is the silence that speaks. Look. The silence rests in you, the hearth of your heart, the creative nothing that unfolds the many-worlds. The many-unfolds as the one-unfolds. We.

Everything-together.

Deus seu Natura. – Baruch Spinoza, Ethics IV: Preface

Image: Cosmos No. 3, Martha Boto