The Nexus of the Universe

The nexus of the universe is deep. It’s like those space-time diagrams they always draw and show how Jupiter distorts is more than the Earth. This is the same but it’s what a black hole does - or maybe those coin drop spiral things that were in a lot of malls in the 90’s and now are only seldom seen in science museums. It’s deep and pulls you in and you don’t want to leave, not that your heart ever could.

And it’s different for everyone. And different depending on the year, the month, the day, the season, the moonphase. Although astrology is bullshit which confounds this a bit. The point is that every person alive, whether conscious or not, has a center of their universe, something outside of them that if they could choose they would instantly be transported to. A mountain lake, untouched by civilization. The armpit of the hair tangle of the most urban city - the backalleys and warrens that make up its bone and cartilage. A house on a hill. A chair. A backyard. The crib where smiling, loving faces appear above. The hospital bed that has become the only thing you can remember.

The nexus of the universe is a place, not a person. It’s a romantic notion, but a bastardization of the idea to suggest it could be a person. A limitation of metaphor and understanding. It would sound good in a song but without the rhythm and melody would be exposed as nearly idiotic. Like most lyrics.

There’s a secret trick though, known only to a few. It can be a place within a person’s heart. If you’re lucky enough to find that, you’re cursed enough to know the truth: Bleecker and Thompson will never move. It will never change, at least before you’re able to reacclimate. And it will always exist in your head. But someone’s heart - that changes beat by beat, without any consent of yours. You’re riding a wave, not visiting a corner.

And you have to hope that the barrel carries on long enough that you come out the other side.