The silent Origin

The Silent Origin

By: John Kazerooni

Once upon a time, in the heart of a living, breathing world, there lived a beautiful and curious bird. She was not just a creature of feathers and flight—she was a spirit of wonder, a soul untamed by fear or boundary. In harmony with nature, she danced with the wind, whispered to rivers, and soared over the tallest mountains. Her love for the earth was deep, and her curiosity, pure and limitless.

She traveled the planet from end to end, from jungles thick with mystery to deserts that shimmered with heat and silence. There was no forest too dense, no ocean too wide. She had seen it all—or so she believed. Yet within her, a question lingered: a silent, unshaped puzzle that no worldly experience could resolve. It was not dissatisfaction, but a call. A whisper from beyond the known.

And so, one day, she lifted her wings and left the earth behind.

Through the layers of sky and cloud, past the reach of air and weather, she entered the great unknown: the universe. Her flight was not like before. Now she moved beyond the stars, across the arms of galaxies, faster than the expanding cosmos itself. She passed through black holes and veils of dark matter, no longer bound by the rules of motion or the limit of light.

Eventually, she reached a realm where time had no meaning and space had no shape. She was here, yet everywhere—in one place, and all places at once. She was no longer defined by form, nor bound by senses. She could not smell, nor hear, nor touch, but she felt everything in a way far deeper—beyond any language or nerve. In this strange, silent field, she remembered something she never knew: this was her origin. This was home.

In that moment, she was no longer a traveler. She had returned.

This tale is not just about a bird. It is the story of us all. As beings caught in the web of time and space, we live thinking we belong to this world, but a part of us knows we don’t. We are not native to the prison of limitations we’ve come to accept as life. We are bound—not by walls or chains, but by the structure of experience itself: by time, space, and the senses.

Everything we know exists within this framework. You cannot have time without space. Nor space without time. They are partners in illusion—inseparable and self-reinforcing. But when I speak of illusion, I do not mean that this world is false or imaginary. The illusion is not that things don’t exist, but that we do not perceive their true nature. We live through layers—of thought, of language, of interpretation—and rarely see the world directly. Our senses filter. Our minds divide. What we experience is only a fragment of what truly is.

So we become foreigners—not to a place, but to an unplace, an environment without dimensions. We live in exile not from land, but from timelessness.

Our sight is narrowed. Our thoughts are sequenced. Our emotions are filtered through bodies that decay and minds that forget. We cannot truly visualize what lies beyond space and time, because all our tools—words, images, numbers—are shaped inside the very illusion we seek to question.

And yet… we remember.

Not with our minds, but with our longing. That quiet ache we feel in moments of stillness—that pull beyond the stars, beyond success or sorrow—is the call of what we truly are. It is the silent origin the soul remembers.

To awaken is not to escape the universe, but to see through it. To know that the laws which govern us are not the final truth, but a temporary stage. To be free is not to run from time and space, but to see them as veils, not prisons.

Like the bird, we are meant to journey. But not endlessly. One day, we may soar so far that even time cannot follow, and in that place with no name, we will remember that we were never lost.

And so, we are left with questions that echo beyond thought:

What are we, when we are no longer bound by time or place?

Is our true home not somewhere, but beyond where?

Can we ever remember what we have never seen, but always known?

If space and time are illusions since we do not perceive their true nature, who is the dreamer behind the dream?

And most of all: are we ready to wake up?

How?

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