” The end of the world ” ship is now departing…..
” Keepers of knowledge see him behaving in this way and know he is ready to be responsible for additional knowledge, so pass on story to him. This is how indigenous Knowledge works. ”
quote from ” Sand Talk ” Tyson Yunkaporta
Stories are the pathways to the mysteries of the universe; imagination is your feet as it carries you through the doorways of dreams. There must be a creation story for everything hidden beneath the surface of everyday life, society, our collective joy and pain. Even as our sphere evolves into a modern timeline, this hard, solid ground beneath retains a single spirit that lifts all of us up, holding us while shifting in constant motion. Those who follow the paths of the land they stand on, listen, observe, discover both their inner and outer landscapes, are the modern-day indigenous souls. There is no longer a thin line between races, only spirit. How we connect with this spirit is how we achieve oneness—that is my belief.
On the timeline of the creation cycle, we are only granted a brand-new vision when we step into a new chapter inward. That journey spans from our 3D reality, plunging all the way down into the void of our deepest consciousness. Our endless cycling through these different states of awareness is the true timeline—of being alive and dead simultaneously, for the linear was always just an illusion. I have drowned again in recent days, yet another story was passed down to me as I swam through the depths.
——The world is now submerged beneath seawater. I live on the corner of a massive, intricate man-made deck kingdom, suspended at the edge of time. Beyond this safe zone, danger lurks everywhere. I used to be here with my friends and family, but over time, driven by endless crises, they all left. I am the only one who survived; I assume they are all dead now. Every breath I take feels entirely meaningless, yet here I remain, with nothing but a dwindling supply of food and water. I often lie down, watching the rising seawater flow past. The scorching days are relentless, and silence occupies most of my existence.
One day, I walk out of the shelter and hear noises in the distance. A sudden realization awakens within me: there must be humans out there. Feeling an urgent need to escape where I am at all costs, I quickly search for a way out, leap to a higher level of the deck, and run toward the direction of the sound. Luck is on my side, I find a group of people and they take me to a massive ship where the last remnants of humanity reside—a gathering of people from all over the world. I can hardly believe my eyes; my partner is among the survivors here. Beyond words, this is a miracle. The forlornness I have sunk into for so long is suddenly lit by a candle of hope. It was just my fear getting to the best of me; I am no longer isolated.
My partner has been here for a while. She shows me to her cabin and explains that if we survive on this ship for over a hundred days, we might just outlive this apocalypse. Every seven days, we will dock at a man-made island, giving us the chance to stand on solid ground for a short while. Other than that, the ship never stops. We are incredibly fortunate that a wealthy individual bought out the entire vessel and its crew, allowing us to survive upon the rising seawater.
By the time she helps me settle down in the cabin, it is already late. I open the cabin door, and the speed of the ship is unbelievably fast.I feel the wind surges against my face; the velocity makes my heart pump. My partner takes me to the upper open deck, where I feel as though I might fall off the railing and die. Yet, it feels completely different from when I was isolated. Back then, living felt weightless. But the waves rapidly rushing through the darkness right now carry the exact opposite—living and dying now weigh equally upon my heart.
I woke up in the middle of the night and didn’t give a second thought to this dream, until I fell asleep again and the next scene of the story entered my world.
——In the morning, I open my cabin door once again. The landscape is now awake. The ship still moves with immense velocity, and the ocean shines with a bright turquoise hue. The scene is just so vibrant that I almost feel as if it is dancing in front of me. Though this is the end of the world, the world doesn’t seem like it is going to die at all. The feeling of reaching the end of time and the furthest corner of the earth splendors my heart.
The people on the ship also come out to the deck just to appreciate how beautiful it is to be here; at the end of the world, we are simply enjoying the glory of the ocean. My partner and I walk up to the upper deck once again. The danger of falling from the railing is no longer a fraction of concern; I am fully open to whatever comes through. It feels as though we are just heading off the shore, and a mangrove forest has grown along the edges of life. I see fish swimming through—this vivid life is no longer in the distance, but instead, right in front of my eyes. Standing aboard the ship at the end of the world, I can’t believe I am fearless.
I woke up again, filled with great awe. I didn’t see this coming at all—to almost re-enter a scene I had visited a few years ago: a remote coastal aboriginal community on the edge of the peninsula, but in a completely different story. This story belongs to the sacred myths of the spirit that lives beneath a rock, telling tales of when the world was first created and when the totems of the earth were formed. Everything moves in the exact same pattern that has already been drawn in another timeline. Once again, I courageously surmise and boundlessly imagine the possibilities of all the threads I’ve discovered through all my dreams and experiences, never backing down from my wild beliefs, I must push the boundaries of structure and linear thought, just as reading the book Sand Talk has deeply resonated with me—rewiring and reassuring my belief that my journey in Australia was simply not a coincidence, but a destined pattern, And it will only unfold piece by piece when I am ready, both internally and externally—for the fragments are hidden in all timelines.
Jack—this guy pops into my head. I don’t know him, but he must be part of the story in the dream I had——a group of people came to the cliff and supported the girl who ventured into the sea. The story slowly forms, an imploding ripple dropping into my vision. Sitting in front of reality, nothing feels tangible; instead, everything rolls like a kaleidoscope. The blood streams through my veins like thunder, numbing my senses to the 3D world. I’ve reached another milestone.
25th May 2026 8:17pm Taipei
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