Bathrobe Prophet Volume XX: Nothing is Wrong

It was Halloween night and I was of course ready for anything. Any party, any movie, any hell spun horror, any hottie in a costume. Anything and everything was on my mind. Nothing could surprise me and that's just what it did. There is no way to be ready for nothing. Even a small blip of it can rip the mind apart. When I opened the door to see where all the trick or treaters were and I saw that beyond the doorstep lay nothing, I closed the door quickly.

The human mind has no ability to comprehend nothing. Easier to accept a zombie horde or modern consumer society shambling toward your door then the vastness of true emptiness which now lapped upon my doorstep. Even in the vacuum of outer space you are surrounded by the vacuum of outer space. It is, if nothing else, a concept. A concept once believed to be ether, which has been replaced by atomic partials, also now micro-ceded by supposed strings. When confronted with true abyssal nothing the human mind breaks down quickly as it tries to define the clearly undefinable.

Our lack of ability to deal with nothing separates us from the animal kingdom. A wolf would not panic at the site of nothing nor would the sheep flee from it. Our greatest evolutionary asset is also our greatest malformation. If we had stopped progressing after the opposable digit we would have ignored nothing like any other right minded creature of instincts. Evolution, nature, or the dubious God Fellow may have cursed us with reason to counter balance the usefulness of the opposable digit. Reason, while great for devising structures and codifying acceptable manners of conduct in battle and in social congress, has left us more mentally fragile then any other creature. It would have been a curse, because the guilty divine force gave us reason but left the instincts in play.

In dealing with nothing, the paradox is that it isn't. Instinct tell us that it is undefinable but reason must define it as something, which it cannot because it is nothing and even defining it thusly does not hold. Like mental sharks we must swim or sink; define or die.

I sat down on the couch and tried not to think of the great unqualified non-reality outside. I was going to have to go into the nothing sooner rather then later. The doomsday clock ticked toward that moment. In infinitesimal crawl toward the unknowable void. Would I make that nothing my own or would I become nothing.