Once upon a breath, the universe laughed — and you happened. Not by plan, not by request, but by the holy spin of atoms and the secret mischief of angels whispering, “Let it be you.” You are the punchline to an ongoing cosmic joke, the ripple of a divine pebble tossed into the pond of possibility.
From the first starlight to the curl of your little finger, every step was a wild improvisation: elements waltzing together, parents crossing paths as if guided by the invisible hand of fate (or perhaps God, in one of his more playful moods), cultures and customs choosing you with the tenderness of a mother hen. All the while, the universe spun its wheel of fortune, and out popped you — not someone else, not somewhere else, but you, here and now, carrying the stardust signature of the Infinite.
Sketch by Ezgi Iraz, 2024
To cling to your story, your opinions, your precious collection of labels and identities, is to clutch smoke. What if the cosmic dice had landed differently? What if a single note in your song had shifted? Poof — the day unspools, but it is not your day, not your laughter, not your sorrow. Another soul walks in your shoes, while God, delighted, keeps spinning possibilities.
Iris Murdoch, gazing through spiritual spectacles, saw it this way:
"The self, the place where we live, is a place of illusion. Goodness is connected with the attempt to see the unself… to pierce the veil of selfish consciousness and join the world as it really is."
The mystics and poets of the East, and the wandering prophets of every age, whispered this secret: the self is a marvelous mirage. To let it dissolve — lovingly, bravely — is to taste a freedom no mirror can reflect. For those born in the bustling West, where the self is king and crowns itself anew each day, to question the authorship of our own existence is to walk barefoot into the temple of wonder. It is a holy discipline, a gentle rebellion, a devotion to what lies beyond our names.
It’s the alchemy of peace and empathy to accept that it could be different for you.
As Rumi says;
“The Root Of The Root Of Your Self
Don’t go away, come near.
Don’t be faithless, be faithful.
Find the antidote in the venom.
Don’t be faithless, be faithful.
Find the antidote in the venom.
Come to the root of the root of yourself.
Molded of clay, yet kneaded
from the substance of certainty,
a guard at the Treasury of Holy Light —
come, return to the root of the root of your Self.
from the substance of certainty,
a guard at the Treasury of Holy Light —
come, return to the root of the root of your Self.
Once you get hold of selflessness,
You’ll be dragged from your ego
and freed from many traps.
You’ll be dragged from your ego
and freed from many traps.
Come, return to the root of the root of your Self.
You are born from the children of God’s creation,
but you have fixed your sight too low.
How can you be happy?
Come, return to the root of the root of your Self.
but you have fixed your sight too low.
How can you be happy?
Come, return to the root of the root of your Self.
You were born from a ray of God’s majesty
and have the blessings of a good star.
Why suffer at the hands of things that don’t exist?
Come, return to the root of the root of your Self.
and have the blessings of a good star.
Why suffer at the hands of things that don’t exist?
Come, return to the root of the root of your Self.
You are a ruby embedded in granite.
How long will you pretend it’s not true?
We can see it in your eyes.
Come to the root of the root of your Self.
How long will you pretend it’s not true?
We can see it in your eyes.
Come to the root of the root of your Self.
You came here from the presence of that fine Friend,
a little drunk, but gentle, stealing our hearts
with that look so full of fire; so,
come, return to the root of the root of your Self.”
a little drunk, but gentle, stealing our hearts
with that look so full of fire; so,
come, return to the root of the root of your Self.”
Poetry of Mevlâna Jalâluddîn Rumi
Translated by Kabir Helminski
Ezgi Iraz's Atelier looking at mount Ka'ala
Long before science charted the stars, Blaise Pascal, friend of paradoxes, pressed his nose to the glass of existence and wrote:
"When I consider the brief flicker of my life, engulfed by eternity before and after, the tiny dot I inhabit, surrounded by infinite space that does not know me, I am awed — why here, not there, why now, not then?"
Than Carl Sagan approved Pascal's words in his famous documentary Pale Blue Dot; "On it everyone you love, everyone you know, everyone you ever heard of, every human being who ever was, lived out their lives—on a mote of dust suspended in a sunbeam."
Or the philosopher Alan Watts word from his book The Book: A taboo Against Who You Are:
"The ego is nothing other than the focus of conscious attention. It is as much a social convention as the intervals of time and the imaginary lines of latitude and longitude."
There is no reason for you to be you — unless we dare to imagine a Reason beyond reason, a divine giggle behind all accidents. When all explanations fall away, love remains: the pulse God placed in the heart of creation, the light that makes existence gleam. Love is how the universe survives itself, how God signs every moment with a flourish. It is the holy mischief at the root of being.
Maybe a child like wonder would help us from Isabel Greenberg's Graphic Novel, The Encyclopedia of Early Earth; "The world is very old and very large, and we are very small and our lives are very short."
Philip Larkin once wrote, “What will survive of us is love.”
Perhaps love is not just what survives, but the very secret of survival — the way we say yes to our improbable selves, and the way God, with a smile, says yes to us.
So, anyway, here we are—two improbable sparks meeting on this unlikely timeline, in the long, swirling history of empires and stars. Maybe it’s chance, maybe it’s kismet, maybe it was written on the stars by angels or maybe some secret mischief of the universe brought us to this moment. Whatever the reason, I’m glad our stories have crossed. Out of all the possible worlds and all the possible whos, it’s you and I—right here, right now. And that’s enough reason for wonder, understanding, empathy and love/ aşk.
Ezgi Iraz
The artist and owner of Studio Kōlea