Reset
The classic Nintendo Entertainment System’s reset button was my third-best friend growing up as a hotheaded youth in the 80s, right behind my dudes Jesse and J.J.
Infinite versions of humans exist in the multiverse.
Some evolve faster.
Some slower.
Some… sideways.
Maybe the Atlanteans never showed up in this timeline—but in another, they vibrated so richly their artifacts spilled into ours.
Archons. Polarians. Hyperboreans. Titans. Lemurians.
Maybe they were here. Maybe they weren’t.
Or maybe advanced races of humans walked this very Earth, and we’re their descendants and don’t even know it.
After all, a truly advanced race wouldn’t pollute the planet or leave a visible trace—just like the code my boys and I follow when we go camping or stomping out in nature.
Even if Prometheus doesn’t pop up on my ancestry.com DNA test, I sense on a soul level that we’re the spiritual descendants of advanced humans who lived long before us somewhere in the multiverse, like Jedi Master Obi-Wan Kenobi or smooth-talking smuggler Lando Calrissian from Star Wars.
And one thing’s certain about every ancient civilization in any timeline:
It’s gone.
Technology reflects the quality of human consciousness, and usually lags behind it.
But when tech leaps way ahead of consciousness? The universe takes notice.
And when the gap gets too wide—click—the cosmic gamer sometimes known as God hits reset.
Ancient myths from every corner of the world tell of cataclysms wiping out entire civilizations that had fallen out of harmony with nature.
In many of them, it was spiritual or alchemical power—what we might call magic—that cracked reality at the seams.
This timeline has had plenty of documented resets on a smaller scale, with countless fiefdoms rising and falling on the size and strength of their war machines.
More recently, our technological magic has far outpaced the quality of our consciousness.
Even Zeus, the King of the Gods himself, would be humbled by the processing power of a microchip or the destructive force of a nuclear warhead—and humored that our consciousness still hasn’t evolved much since cave paintings and the wheel. In many ways, it’s regressed.
For generations now, we humans have been the spiritual equivalent of a chimp with a gun. A bull in a cosmic china shop.
A species with less emotional maturity than dolphins, yet the ability to pulverize the planet with one push of a button.
Even if we manage to avoid committing geocide by nuclear fusion, we’re still on track to murder the planet slowly, suffocating it with pollution from our “progress” over generations instead of in one violent flash.
The way we operate is unsustainable, and dysfunction is accelerating. Most of us feel on a soul level that another reset is coming soon.
But here’s the twist: We need the stress of a reset to evolve the quality of our collective consciousness, which is our species’ only real obligation.
Life’s always moving, and everything in it is constantly getting better or getting worse.
In nature, things break before they heal.
These days?
We’re breaking down.
From my perch, the question isn’t if a reset’s coming—it’s how we’ll play the game afterward.
And I’m reasonably confident we’ll do fine in the next level of this game called life.
We’ve outlasted players with far more advanced weaponry at their disposal—saber-tooth tigers, dire wolves, and terror birds, to name just a few, not to mention the legions of inorganic entities that terrorize us—armed with nothing but wit and grit. And we came out the other side stronger, tougher, and wiser.
If we handle the coming reset right, this time the universe won’t just restart the game.
It’ll hand us a whole new platform to play on.
The New Earth.
