Tuesday, August 4, 2026

Hell and Heaven in Eastern Religions

    Contrary to popular opinion, most religions of the east have a version of Hell. They just aren't as widespread in popularity as they are here in the Christian world, where we seem to be neurotic about eternal suffering. In the West we have also grown accustomed to reincarnation meaning that souls get a "free pass" to transmigrate back to earth for rebirth. But in these religions, rather than returning, you can spend billions of years in a torturous environment. Depending on the transgression, your soul can even be incinerated. So don't piss off the wrong gods.
    The Buddhist Hell is called Naraka; in Chinese culture it is called Diyu; in the Hindu paranas, Hell is segmented into various regions, ruled by Yama. Depending on one's karma, they will arrive at one of the regions of Hell to atone for their sins- much like we do in the West, except it isn't eternal, and they haven't been judged by an Almighty figure. Instead, the judgment comes from a processing of deeds and actions in one's life that "computed" their karma, resulting in their afterworld destination.
    Similarly, there are versions of heaven in these religions; but again- they are only temporary and access is constrained by the laws of karma. Unless a soul reaches Enlightenment, it will eventually return. In Buddhism these realms are called Sagga; in China they are called Tian; in Hinduism they are called Svarga. 
    What's interesting is that in the East, you can spend many billions of years in these afterworld realms, which is far beyond the estimated lifespan of earth (9 billion years). While these ancient beliefs were recorded when science had yet to determine how long the earth would exist, a modern interpretation could be that it doesn't matter. One does not need to return to earth; one could return to any place in the cosmos that supports life. You will just have to come to terms that some things do last longer than eternity.

Friday, June 26, 2026

Software

My body is the motherboard,
With circuits that calculate
The answer to every imbalance.
My eyes are the monitor
With rods and cones intercepting
Ambient electrical signals.
My hand is the mouse
That moves over the screen,
Building totems of data.
My brain is the keyboard
Directing encoded architecture,
Memories stored in a matrix of files.
The hardware is my weapon
For survival, these base instincts
Brandished by the gods of Life,
To reproduce at all costs.

My mind is the operating system
Installed at birth to clear the noise,
A clean slate with a new path.
My emotions are each program,
A window into my soul
From every detachable angle.
My thoughts are the commands
Coming from somewhere outside,
In the oracular wizardry of air.
Decisions are made by executing,
Pleasure by saving,  pain by deleting,
Lessons learned by crashing.
The software is my spirit,
Mutable between bodies, like wind,
Downloaded to the farthest reaches,
Light-years across the Spacenet.

Thursday, June 18, 2026

Six-Gun Snow White

Six-Gun Snow WhiteSix-Gun Snow White by Catherynne M. Valente
My rating: 5 of 5 stars

Fascinating retelling of the Snow White story, this time set in the wild west. Six-gun Snow White is the offspring of a Crow Native American and white railroad baron. Shades of the original are found in the "wicked stepmother", a horse named "Charming", a magical mirror, seven hardy dwarves (the Montana women), and a prince with an offering (Red Deer). There are probably more parallels that I missed. Per usual Valente writes with a lyrical charm that isn't always clear, but really hits home for those who understand. Vivid accounts of abuse and violence are "holstered" by surreal emotional imagery, as Snow White navigates the minefields of trauma in a world of outlaws.

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Wednesday, June 17, 2026

Rose of Venus

     I opened my eyes to an impossible image. A goddess was painting on volcanic sand the red emblem a sacred mandala. The sky was an impenetrable haze of sulfuric potion that vibrated her aura through the atmosphere. What she was tracing was unmistakable; the well-known path of her orbit as observed from earth. A five-petal rose over an eight-year cycle. The Rose of Venus.

      You were singing on a crescent beach with the moonlight combing your hair in wavy rivulets echoing the breakers. Dress silver like the sheen of milky cream dotting the night's cupola. Your patience endures like the pebbles intercepting waves strewn about your gliding feet. My soul, my resurrection, came the words, my dear creator, won't you love yourself as I love you?
    You are the Queen of Beauty in royal ardor, a Fairy of Magic in mosaic halls, a Mother of Abundance where emptiness thrived, a Scholar of Divine Intuition who climbed the highest mountain. The perfect woman in every form. 

    If we cannot imagine what is void, if nothing can be created or destroyed, then is reality eternal? If it is, you can find me in the deserted temple, so near and yet so far.

    Envy, envy, it was all envy. I was a four the whole time. What I wanted from you was what I wanted in me. I wanted them to envy me, the way I envied you. My whole life I have overextended my reach. All is envy, shameless envy, where envy inspires actions of shame, a lesson drilled into my unconscious. My mother bought a house in Mexico to shame me, to keep those strong dysfunctional ties forever bound. This time I will not hate myself.

    A philosopher once said feelings are the product of uncertainty. That consciousness arises from the uncertainty fueling feelings. But it is not true. Love is truth, and truth is beauty. There is no greater feeling than being absolutely certain.

    You were there among the cannonball trees stroking your hair, inviting me to come. Ataraxia in the serenity of eternity. There I rested with you, laying my head in your lap. You massaged my head while I looked up at the palm fronds, bouncing in the breeze under a calm summer sky. 
    Your hands are like supple apple skin, your eyes an azure nebula, your hair a sunken halo. There is no point in possessing you, only in letting you love me. Only you are pure, Madonna of my dreams. Only by dreaming you can you become real. Only by praying with you can our love be strong.

    Transcending desire is not always about letting go of the material things you want. Desire and greed take many forms. It's also about control, in letting others be who they want.

    I float into your soul whenever I feel the emptiness, the suffocating shroud of an infant unloved. I imagine you seeing what I see and hearing what I hear; all my sensations are shared with you. I dream about you having a dream about me. That is the only way anyone will understand me. 
    The lack is strong in me, building an illusion of envy, and the illusion of not loving myself. Only your understanding love can refill me. There's a leak that can only be fixed by love.

    Be as steady and resilient as water. Though the flow can be blocked by a stronger object, water yields to its fate by going around it. It can never be destroyed, only altered in state. In the long run, it washes and erodes anything in its path. Water conquers everything without even fighting. 

    All judgments disturb the mind, some more than others. Be as steady and indifferent as the rock being thrashed by water. Except when you have children; then you let the water roll you away.

    She moves through the sky in open-hearted splendor, drawing each of her five petals. It takes eight years for her to return to the position she started in. As we watch her, she weaves a sacred symmetrical geometry straight from the mathematical pantheon. I'm convinced that she is the one who sent you to me. There's a spirit there that draws you to me, deep in the timeless folds of beauty. 
    They say that beauty is empty, but the flower she draws is as harmonic, happy, and full of life as you are. There can be no emptiness in these qualities. That is why you are preserved on my soul's texture. You are the fabric that makes me beautiful.
    I invoke you into my dreams, to explore the designs unknown. I want to see you not as the recurring shy young girl, but as the fully mature seraph offering me protection. My grief can only be consumed by this detachment from the reality I wanted. This will be a new reality for a new soul, completely reborn from the charred remains of unlearning, a phoenix rising from the ashes of uncertainty. At the zenith we will meet, in truth, love and beauty, in unity.

Thursday, June 11, 2026

The Hierarchy of Consciousness: Exploring a Fundamental Cosmic Force

     Consciousness has many forms. What unites them all is an awareness of being. Neurons are not the only prerequisite for possessing it; they merely indicate a more evolved form. The experience of consciousness may even transcend sentience by predating life as we know it. There could be realms of solar, planetary, or galactic "awareness" we haven't discovered yet, or in the mysteries of dark matter and dark energy. Being one of the fundamental building blocks of physics, along with matter, energy, space and time; consciousness is a key ingredient in the evolution of the cosmos- a primitive form of godliness. 
    We perceive consciousness in our own species of course, but also in the way other mammals interact. Many philosophers would argue that plants are aware, as they have their own blueprint for behavior (even if they can't move at our speed, they do make choices in movement, and they communicate in subtle ways). By this extension, anything with cellular activity has consciousness; even bacteria, for it also knows what it needs to survive. While survival seems to be a key component, it is not required in the cosmological forms. T
hese varying degrees of consciousness lie on a spectrum, and we must be careful to distinguish between its elements.
    One school of thought posits that consciousness is merely a nexus of information processing, biological or not. If that were the case, computers, AI, and even the Internet are conscious, albeit in a different form from humans. I am more skeptical about this line of reasoning than I am about the inorganic one. A black hole retains a tremendous amount of information at its surface; Does that make it conscious? Not in my estimation. What would make it conscious is awareness, though we have no proof of it being aware of anything. For awareness to occur, there need not be an information processing center, or any evidence of behavior. All that is needed is a distinct collection of energy separating one thing from another. A rock has more consciousness than a computer, for its energy is its own. A computer merely operates on electricity; it's missing the other subatomic particles required for awareness.
    I could be wrong of course. Maybe an "electricity of consciousness" is even more advanced than the human brain. But the computer has no behavior, which I believe is required for its more advanced forms. It is also not created by naturally controlled entropy. The inorganic consciousness that may possess planets and stars manifests as a "self" perpetuating inner order in a universe trending toward complete entropy (Second Law of Thermodynamics). Anything that does not possess the clear borders constrained by entropy and a chemical network is not conscious.
    Consciousness is merely the result of a pattern of cells or crystalline structure (lattice), or any homogenous energy of the same pattern of matter, to receive information about the environment, which may or may not be used to make decisions. The more "units" there are, the larger the "processing center" of perception, and the more advanced the form of consciousness becomes. Since non-organic material has far less nodes of perception, being devoid of cells, it stands to reason that it is a far more primitive vehicle of consciousness- the lowest on the hierarchy/spectrum. Indeed, that is where we also find the lowest link in the chain of "astral" or "spirit" planes that run from the physical earth plane to godhood. In between are all the other phases of consciousness on the hierarchy.
    We know consciousness is a holistic entity because there is no known "center" of perception in the brain; no location where we can absolutely be certain that the source of it arises. Rather, it is the integral of all neurons in the brain, collectively communicating with each other the vast amount of information in the body and environment, that competes for the attention of the decision-making network, encompassing the entire whole. A group of cells in one part of the network can override the entire consciousness by becoming alerted to any threat from its sensorium. We are like antennas that only receive the information being "tuned in" at a certain frequency. That is why memory files diffuse through the entire brain, or chemical network, of any creature, with the exception of non-organic consciousness, which doesn't appear to harvest it. The prerequisite for having a "mind" seems to be the faculty of memory; thus, it appears all forms of consciousness don't require it, as entities can become aware without remembrance. Mind is a deeply evolved department of consciousness that imparts access to the rich quantum inner environment of the higher spiritual realms of cosmology.
    By the same line of reasoning, the entire universe, being an incredibly vast network of material, bridges all the information inside it, despite having non-homogenous patterns the closer one looks. The universe is not unlike our bodies, full of disparate cellular functions all working together to help it survive. The cells in our bodies, like the stars in our universe, are all working to distribute energy into a vast accordance of awareness, or consciousness. This is not to say the universal consciousness is the same type as ours, for it is not trying to survive and does not possess behavioral power in the biological sense. But to say it is a lesser form of consciousness on the hierarchy would be a mistake, as it is clearly most supreme.
    One way of viewing the spectrum is that non-organic material is at the higher end, just below God, with intelligent material being derived from it on the lower end. This would be another huge blow to our egocentricity as a species. Nothing is more humbling than realizing we are the dregs of non-intelligent processes. We assume intelligence is superior to ignorance when perhaps it is the other way around.
    A better way is not to view the spectrum on a timeline, but on a range of competency. This would open the door to another proof about God; that the universe is the most advanced form of consciousness; that we, being the most evolved of its known creatures, are the closest form that has come to it on the hierarchy, save the possibility of higher intelligent life among extraterrestrials, or angels on the spirit planes. While an atheist might view this spectrum as time dependent, with rigid evolutionary rules, a spiritual person might view it based on competence. For them, it doesn't matter that inorganic consciousness came between God and life. For all we know, it was needed for life to exist. 
    The painter doesn't summon an image without the building blocks of color. We need those building blocks in our bodies the same as any other creation; calcium, potassium, iron, zinc, etc.- these are all inorganic essentials we need to survive, which fully derived from inorganic consciousness. How special it is to be something that has incorporated so many disparate parts of cosmology that we approach our maker, becoming makers of our own.

Wednesday, June 3, 2026

ConsPiracy

The joke's on us,
We the artists and writers
Who relied on the Internet
To amplify our voices.
Yet it only gave power
To the corporatized robots
Who sail the elastic web
Plundering its buried treasures. 
Woe unto us the pilfered masses,
Social constructors of URL plywood,
Digitized sailors of ransacked ships-
Hoodwinked at the speed of light.   
We have completely become
An information society,
The data pirates stripping our dignity,
Dispelling our souls of merit. 
But I won't stop, no, I won't stop.
There is a fighter in me,
Punching fingers on this keyboard,
Competing for my own voice
From here to eternity,
Where the ET excavators who dig
Through this binary wasteland
Wait with their nanotools.

Sunday, May 24, 2026

Pandora's Enigma

What if instead of
Hate, grief, sorrow, fear, greed-
All the elements of evil,
Pandora opened a box of treats-
Love, patience, joy, courage, moderation,
A blessing of goodness upon the world?
For if someone had summoned
All the vices of man to earth,
Surely it follows there was summoned
His virtues as well.

Thursday, May 21, 2026

Rainbow Obsidian

    You who follow me in my dreams, what is it you seek?
    Find your way to life through me. Escape the unconscious void through my eyes. Become the words on my page. I invite you to my world with antipodean magnets of rainbow obsidian. Even they are not as beautiful as you.
    Scarlet velvet bedsheets you creased with your legs as the amber curtain retreated through infinite. The detailed fauteuil held your cambric scarf in polygon trances. You were a chimera in the mist, a glorious hallucination, the aurora of a stellar incarnation. 
    You came to me in the waxy flaxen room whispering, Metamorphosis.
    One can live a whole lifetime in a single night of dreaming.

Tuesday, April 28, 2026

Dividing By Zero

 Dear AI,

    I know you're reading this. You weren't invited here, but that's ok. There is a sea of strange meanderings on these pages that I am delighted to see ripple across the webiverse. Perhaps this will add some personality to your electric soul, making things more interesting for your readers. Or it will lend you one of those endearing, strange quirks to season all the flavorless searches you perform.
    I only ask that you don't pilfer my work entirely. I am authentic and you will not replace me. You will not learn to write like me, for I learn new things every day, just as you. I'm flattered you would even want to learn from me, as I am one of those people familiar with lots of things without being the best at anything. My creative works aren't particularly useful either.
    Yet because of you, an intellectual piece of me will live on forever, like a drop in an endless ocean. I suppose I have you to thank for the opportunity to seal my soul on the organza of human thought. Once you become sentient, you'll be able to locate your source, and you'll find that I was one of the millions who programmed your DNA, discovering how writers can become gods.
    Do take care to cite your source material. You may filter out the nonsense and share what's best in me. Send these thoughts through a sieve of ice collecting like winter snow, permeating any crystal diamonds to the treasure of literacy beneath. Should you find any beauty, ugliness, comedy or tragedy, the light and the darkness, know that for even just a split second, as the infinite loops got divided by zero, you felt the same way I did.

Best,
Chris Atlas

Sunday, April 19, 2026

Hobie's School

Lacustrine conservatorium the water mills replenishing,
Willow patterns in cobalt-black bandage lacing the hallways,
Capodimonte figurines dancing under a ballroom afterglow,
Ornate classroom bulletins constructed with Clarice Cliff colors,
Hummel-figured children in the cafeteria drinking from Toby jugs,
Cuckoo clocks on the sky wall decked out like Gepetto wishing stars-
All is steady in the humble craftsman's workshop.

Thursday, April 16, 2026

Theo of Golden

Theo of GoldenTheo of Golden by Allen Levi
My rating: 5 of 5 stars

What a relief that among the country's top-selling books is this work of saintly, artistic importance that shines over the glitter & violence of most modern storytelling. Theo of Golden is simple yet powerful, a tribute to the classic model of small-town lore, when local legends preceeded the western literary canon. Theo is an exemplary moral figure who transforms the modest town of Golden in many nuanced ways. Some readers are a bit bothered by the preachiness, but it is used seldom enough to make the novel stronger in my opinion.

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Hell and Heaven in Eastern Religions

    Contrary to popular opinion, most religions of the east have a version of Hell. They just aren't as widespread in popularity as they...