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It is not commonly known that the universe, as we commonly call it, came into existence at the utterance of a single syllable (or syllable-and-a-half, kinda).

 

Zeke.

 

With the pronouncement of that name (which, admittedly, doesn't exactly roll of the tongue), cosmic forces were set into motion which would dictate all the laws of physics, the makeup of the night sky -- some less idealistic individuals might even say it would dictate every human thought ever to occupy the mind of a thinker. Philosophizing about such things, though, gets us nowhere in the quest for the answer to our ultimate question, though: How did Zeke get here?

 

Certain cultures have tried to explain the "time before" Zeke as "dream-time," which is still accessible to the most holy and most disciplined of us. Others have tried to get to the root of the problem through more and more meticulous, expensive, and esoteric scientific experiments which purport to reveal the true nature of the reality we are confronted with every day. Some people meditate for hours on end in order to lose their sense of "self," which is somehow interfering with a truer experience of the fabric of being. Still others just, like, eat mission burritos and don't, I don't know, worry about it too much.

 

The conclusion of all of these different approaches -- if it may be said that there is a "conclusion," is that we can't be sure. It might even be the case that our not-knowing is what allows us to continue to participate in this grand experiment we call "the human condition." If this is truly the case, we might do better to stop asking questions like "How did Zeke get here," and ask others instead, such as: "Why is eke biking with a hot coffee in his hand?" Or: "How is Zeke doing that so fast in Photoshop?" Or: "Who actually owns this text?"