The Golden Projector

One day, out of the blue (not really), Love decided to turn itself into a glorious, golden projector. 

Not build one—become one.

Purely for the sake of loving fun. 

Then it began streaming.

The scenes that flashed in empty space were equal parts magical, dramatic, incredible, heartbreaking, and horrific. 

There was no rhyme or reason to it. 

It happened as it happened, random, but with an arc bending (naturally) towards Love. 

The Projector saw all that it created, all that poured forth from it in creative loving expression, and called it “Good.” 

Love was having the grandest time, and its projections put on quite a show.

These projections included billions of seemingly sentient beings with apparent lives of their own. Over the millennia of time (if there is such a thing as time), their flashes of existence were brief, but memorable. Some appeared to be great lovers and leaders; others were villains of the highest order. Their stories—both real and imagined—were told and re-told in books, poetry, films, and other works of art. 

But many of these supposed beings intuitively knew that something fishy was going on. 

These projections felt that their so-called lives were incomplete in some way. They built shrines and temples and churches, bowing down to the Source of All (the unknown known by many names), hoping to find what was missing. They also dreamed up paths of spiritual awakening, trying to reach a state of bliss or bring forth something (a manifestation, if you will) that would fill the void and make their so-called lives more enjoyable. 

None of that worked. But it was all part of the dream as it rolled along. 

Then something strange and miraculous happened.

Love created pockets of projections that saw, felt, and experienced their own absence. The projections realized they weren’t, in fact, real at all, simply holograms in space streaming from an unknown and indescribable origin. Or at least, that’s how it seemed, as no projection could realize anything at all. 

These apparent beings, though just particles of flashing light with no substance whatsoever, nonetheless seemed to enjoy a peaceful, easy existence of just being the Love that they truly are. 

The game played on. And on and on. 

Would it ever end? Could it ever end? 

Only the Projector knows. 

The game is afoot, and the experience is thrilling to behold. 

Why stop now?

Love is so much fun. 

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By Mike L.