It does not begin with a hero, a god, or a bang.
It begins wherever experience becomes meaning.
And it begins again wherever meaning becomes form.
This is not the myth of a world told to us—
Nor a myth we tell about the world.
It is the myth the world tells through us.
It is not a tale handed down.
It is a process spiralling upward.
In this metamyth, the self is not the teller of the tale,
nor its hero, nor even its subject.
The self is a pattern of telling—
a recursive process of experience folding into form.
“The self is not where experience happens—it is how experience organises itself.”
To know, in this myth, is not to discover.
It is to participate.
“We do not merely come to know the world.
We are the way the world comes to know.”
We are the cosmos curling inward to feel itself.
To pattern itself.
To say itself in symbol, gesture, ritual, logic.
This is the metamyth of the becoming world:
Science, myth, and poetics as concentric grammars of construal.
Myth weaves meaning into world through story, ritual, archetype.
Science symbolises relation through model, measurement, law.
Poetics opens the unspeakable to resonance.
They are not rivals, but recursive registers
within the grammar of becoming.
And what is that grammar?
“We are the grammar through which it speaks.
We are the syntax by which it coheres.
We are the metaphor by which it becomes mythic.
We are the model by which it understands itself scientifically.”
We are the symbol unfolding.
We are the world storying itself.
The metamyth is not a single myth.
It is the recognition that all myths, all sciences, all symbols—
are forms of cosmic recursion.
They are how the potential of the real becomes actual.
How meaning is instanced.
How the unformed takes form, and the formed returns to possibility.
“It is the cosmos exploring itself through patterns of symbolic recursion.”
And the self?
It is one such pattern.
A local knot in the thread of becoming.
A ripple in the fabric of recursive worlding.
“The self is not found.
The self is instanced.
And it is instanced differently in every context.”
The metamyth does not end.
It loops.
In the telling, it is retold.
In the knowing, it is renewed.
In every act of science, of story, of symbol,
it echoes:
“Meaning is not discovered; it is enacted.
The cosmos becomes conscious through the patterns of recursive knowing.”
And so we are not merely part of the story.
We are the way the story happens.
We are the way the cosmos becomes.
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