I am part of the Universe’s body. Can the Universe sense me and my existence?

Just as I can try to feel my leg or my hand when I do a body scan with my eyes closed, I wonder if the Universe, too, can experience me and feel me—feel my joy, pain, and sadness—as if I were a part of its body.

Many people try to feel the Universe from within themselves, and the same is true with God. But perhaps we are like cells in a body. A cell that exists only in your gut doesn’t know about the cell in your kidney. Heck, I can’t sense a particular cell in my kidney or gut, but it still works. It carries out its activity and does its duty so that I can exist and live.

So I wonder: does every human being also do their job for the Universe? If we all do our part, can the Universe experience us?

Knowing the human mind, we want individual recognition and individual attention from the Universe. But just as cells in the body may work together, perhaps a group of cells must vibrate in union for the body to feel discomfort or pleasure. Could it be the same with the Universe?

Or can a single human existence, so tiny in this vast Universe, give it a sensation?

“I am here. I exist. Can you feel me?”

But then another question arises: Who is the experiencer of us human beings?

Is it God?

Is it something unknown to us that will remain unknown?

Perhaps that is the freedom of the Universe.

Can a single cell experience the entire body and mind of a person?

Are you the aperture through which the Universe is experiencing itself?

Or what if it is more than that? What if you are a small part of a whole being or existence that you don’t know about, but are nevertheless a part of? What if there is an actual physical existence—a being—of which we are only tiny parts?

My mind can’t reach this being because my mind is too small to reach it. My mind works within the locality of this Milky Way galaxy and its position in the Universe.

So perhaps I cannot comprehend what I am a part of.

But I can wonder:

Can it feel me?

Three Processes of Enquiry Into God

1. He doesn’t exist, or the Universe is all there is.

You are a small part of the Universe. Humble yourself like a cell in your body that lives, survives, performs its duty, and then decays and dies. It is the same experience as that of a human being.

That is why you have to live your life to the fullest, without complaints. You don’t know where you came from or where you will go. Just this—right here, right now—you are conscious and aware of your minor existence. Perhaps that is enough.

2. You believe there is “God,” a higher being, but you don’t know how to prove it.

So, you live in the grace of not knowing. You are not special for knowing, because God has freedom, and so do you. You don’t know, and perhaps you will never know, just like billions of people on this planet.

There is no system that can prove Him. You simply believe that this order is being maintained by a higher power.

So, when the ego says, “Ah, I found God in Krishna or Allah,” you ask a scientific question: What is the proof? What is the process? Can it be reproduced for others?

But there is no process of repetition that can produce the same result.

Sure, many people will tell you there is. But truly, how many have really seen Him, if it is true?

You truly don’t know, but you believe.

You have a strong sense of belief. Some days, it is stronger than others. So, there is grace.

Only in grace and “I don’t know” does this process exist.

3. You are God—the infinite consciousness.

There are methods to quieten the mind, but those methods don’t lead everyone to that infinite consciousness or to seeing yourself as the divine, ultimate Atman.

You live through a process of repetition. You try every day to attain that divine Self—that peaceful mind, that place beyond all imagination and theories, that ecstatic bliss that people describe to us.

Again, not everyone can repeat this process.

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Between these three states, I fluctuate. Many others possibly do as well.

I can’t prove there is something Divine out there, that it is within me, or that I am simply a cell having an experience of consciousness.

So perhaps Buddha’s decision to dodge the God question was for the best.

People will surely fall into all three categories, or perhaps into one category at a particular point in their lives. Maybe we embrace all three at different points in our lives.

Not knowing is difficult for the brain to accept—a brain that likes to grasp, dissect, understand in detail, and create repetition.

They say such a mind can never find God.

But who is to say, really?

Perhaps this repetition cultivates faith.

Today, I was conflicted about this issue.

Why was it on my agenda?

Surely, I can tell you it wasn’t my purpose. I sat in meditation, thought about a lot of things, and eventually stumbled upon this formula that the mind likes to replay.

I really don’t know if there is a higher purpose for humans. It could just be that we assign ourselves that role because of our egos and identities, believing that we are superior to the animal kingdom.

Perhaps it is necessary for the society we have built in order to survive.

Perhaps it is necessary for the roles we have assigned to ourselves in order to function in society.

Maybe today I decide to reside in the grace of the unknown—the existence of a mysterious God, my higher purpose, or my negligible purpose in the Universe.

I have been humbled by asking a question I don’t know, and perhaps won’t ever know, the answer to.

Because, like I said, freedom exists for God and for us.

There is comparison in humans, though. Some people who have awakened might be considered special, like Buddha. But he didn’t talk about God.

But who knows for whom God shows Himself, and who gets labeled “special” because of such an occurrence?

Again, there is freedom to envy such people, believe them, or doubt them.

There is no right or wrong.

There is only grace.

I don’t have enough knowledge to declare which metaphysical explanation is correct, so I can stop fighting with the uncertainty.