God

How can we find nothing when we look at the center of ourselves?  You mean, at home, there’s… nothing?  Well then, what are we?  Just a nothingness looking out from—nothing? 

I think we are trapped inside of a sphere resting on the sand of a desert island.  When we stop observing the objects on the small circle of land—palm leaves, sand, birds or waves or shells, sticks and flotsam and jetsam and crabs washed up on shore—and retreat into ourselves, we feel… bored.  What?  Yes, I think that we do.  We’re so used to looking at the moving objects outside our windows; our whole attention is outward.  Even so, if we’re determined to get to the bottom of things, and we decide to start digging a hole right in the middle of where we’re standing, what will we find?