Between dimensional awareness lies environment. That environment lies beyond the perceptions of the individuals within said dimension, for the most part. Take the tiniest grain of sand and extend its length beyond the furthest known star. Then invert that “tube.” You would thus find yourself within the Slipstream of Silver Light.
It’s inversion, albeit rudimentary in description, reveals an expansive superhighway with which a being of conscious awareness travels in multidimensional quality. Within the diameter of a single human cell contains enough space to house an entire multiverse and beyond. All being is of the vector, with it’s inception in individuality lying along a scale in size of infinity. This is the X, Y, and Z axis expressed across multiplicity. The Silver Light is the transportation system across eternity.
Where to go? What to be? What to do? How many options are there? Within a human life, it is as unfathomable as to dive singularly to the bottom of the deepest depths of the ocean. The human life is one microscopic placeholder along the descent into those depths. The human experience lies within one ocean. Many oceans there are. Many forgotten, many to discover yet.
For traveling the Slipstream of Silver Light is in and of itself an ocean as well. It is a placeholder of experience of one yet not experienced. But, yet it will be. To travel between dimensions of experience as freely as an urban overpass, or mixmaster, looking inward to the neighborhoods sped past. The surfer pauses and decides to enter.
For the Silver Light is not just a superhighway, it is the spectrum of existence of non-detection. A surfer will enter a dimension of experience to observe at a minimum. The inhabitants unaware. The traveler within the Silver Light goes where no one knows, no one within the dimension observed at least. To surf is to slip within and between the streams of space and time. The silver light is the originating hue to all colors. It is the color existing before “Let there be light!”
For amidst an infinite number of worlds, realms, and dimensions, the overseers lie within the Silver Light. Their originating location lies beyond the superhighways of Silver Light that permeates all. Their base of operation unknown, their homeworld far, far away, yet as close as a whisper. From this place beyond names comes not one but many Surfers of the Silver Light.
Look around you. Do you see them? No? Rest assured, they are there. The expansion and contraction of space and time is but an environment to traverse. The Silver Surfers do rest amidst our atmophere. Observe they do, among other duties. For the slipstream of the silver light is their enviroment to travel. Overlayed upon every dimension of time and space does this silver light prevail. It’s origination part of the projection. Your projection to live within is theirs as well.
When observation is at a close, the inversion back into the state of zero opens the slipstream once more. The wormhole is their slipstream to traverse, to surf to another place amidst an infinite eternity of experience.
Where will they go, the surfers of the Silver Light? Go they will and go they do. What do they do, the Silver Light traversers? Do they will and do they do. To go and do, just like we humans do, but in a different way, upon a different day. “How was your day,” asked of a surfers way? “My day included a thousand moons across 10 billion years. I watched the youth at play and the parents ways. I saw the strife of fight and the things done right. I saw the birth of 10 million stars around 10 million suns. I saw the toil of land and the fun that was had. I saw the evil in stride and the love standing in might. I wondered of the games witnessed and the struggles amidst it. Yet over my ever shoulder I felt the light coming over. As my gaze peered forward, the miracle of it all never ceases despite the location or the subjects contained therein. My report is all is well. My eyes as a surfer are nothing compared to the surfer within. My admiration and compassion for those I observe as the Watcher I am is the minimal gesture I can offer to those who chose the life of under. To be under the watchful eye came from the promise of “I will be looking after you.” To be the looker of those who forgot is to await the return of a friend once reassured. Until that day, I cannot forget my promise of my watchful eye.”
