Anarchistbanjo's World

Chapter 14: Reciprocals Unveiled

The OAK Matrix hums with motion—everything alive, everything a dance of opposites. Chaos birthed us, but reciprocals reveal us: two realms, two forces, pulsing as one. Dewey Larson’s whisper—“Nothing But Motion”—cracked it open for me: the universe isn’t static; it’s a vibration, a scalar beat of out and in. I felt it first in love—his spark, her pull—but it’s bigger, cosmic. Photon and electron, space/time and time/space—they’re the yin/yang of all that is, male and female writ across the stars. Here, duality unveils its face.

I’ve chased this pulse. A flicker of light—a photon—bursting outward, radiant, free; then a snap of electricity—an electron—rushing back, tight, contained. Larson’s science sang it: scalar motion, outward as light (male), inward as charge (female). I’d muse—God of Light, Goddess of Electricity—two halves of creation, not warring, but weaving. Physics nods—photons expand, electrons contract—while mysticism echoes: spirit flies, matter holds. In me, it’s the same—dreams soaring, body grounding. Opposites aren’t foes; they’re lovers, reciprocal, complete.

Then the universes split—space/time, where I stand, three dimensions of space, time a thin thread; time/space, the astral, where time spreads wide, space a whisper. I saw it in dreams—events clustering, not places—Larson’s time/space, where noble gases like Helium and Neon shine as solid worlds. In space/time, matter gravitates—Earth pulls me down; in time/space, events do—moments pile, probable worlds of Lithium and Sodium shimmer. Occult lore knew it—astral planes, dream realms—science just caught up. Kinship binds them: two realms, one dance.

Motion drives it—vibration to rotation, photon to atom. I’ve felt the tug—breath in, out; heart’s beat—male energy pushing, female pulling. Larson’s black hole spins at our galaxy’s core, stars fleeing outward, yet shrinking inward—duality in flux. “Nothing But Motion” mapped it: light leaps to magnetic vortexes—north (male, expansive), south (female, constrictive)—then spheres, Hydrogen to Oganesson. Noble gases anchor time/space worlds—Neon on Mars, Argon in the Sun—while intermediates weave astral planes, probable echoes. Awareness grows here—motion’s chaos, leaping to order.

This isn’t cold fact—it’s alive. Physics hums it—vortexes spin, opposites attract—psychology feels it in love’s pull, repulsion’s push. Mysticism crowns it—cones of power, north cleansing, south shaping. I’ve lived it: a lover’s draw, a goal’s recoil—male and female energies pulsing through. The OAK Matrix unveils this: space/time and time/space, photon and electron, noble worlds and astral planes—opposites reciprocal, not rival. Kinship threads them—every pulse connects, every leap unites. Step closer: duality’s not division; it’s creation’s breath.