Elon Musk, Elon Musk. Could there be a more science-fictiony name? I think not. Elon Musk himself feels fictional. Electric cars, 747s to the moon, tunneling under LA, solar roof tiles, AI for the people. He's really upped the game for following your bliss. He just keeps moreing, like some impossible number that is always bigger than itself.

Elon's not selling any books or courses on how to be him, so there's no obvious path to becoming Elon ourselves. That would be redundant anyway. Elon is already Elon, we don't need to be him. We don't need to worship Elon either. Elon isn't Jesus, the only son of God. Even Jesus isn't Jesus.

By the way, this is episode 109 of the Daughter of Godcast, Nothing. Our laid-back third season, Summer Vacation.

I've mentioned Elon before in the podcast, even though he hasn't spent a weekend in the Airstream either... yet. Elon's featured in this episode because he's evidence. We couldn't have asked for a more obvious demonstration of how the cosmos goes or for a more profound revelation about the fundamental nature of reality, what I am calling elony.

Elony is a unit of measure, a secret hidden in plain sight, and perhaps a brand-new human emotion, vibrating slightly higher than elation.

Elony is batting our dreams out of the park. Elony is manifesting a whole new reality for anyone who wants to climb aboard. Elony is already rocking the cosmos even when we've just barely gotten started.

I don't need to send sexy cars on interplanetary journeys or put domes on Mars. I might enjoy making Martian porn (imagine the sexual tension after a month or two aboard the BFR). Rather than grouse about annoying circumstances, my wrinkles, zits, braces, or a black eye, instead of complaining about an unappealing reality, I can apply the principle of elony and live a different one.

I live in a beautiful place. I can't tell you because words aren't the sounds of leaves rustling or waves rolling up onshore. I can't show you, because you're not ready yet. When you are ready, you won't need me to show you. You'll be in a beautiful place, too. Someday, I'd like to hear you sing about your beautiful place.

What the heck do you want? Do you know? Are you able to let your desires out, or are they wicked, improbable, ridiculous? Has your wanting become painful, embarrassing?

I'm of the opinion that dying begins when we strangle our desires, bury them in a shallow grave, erase all traces, or worse yet, turn yearning into a joke, failed dreams chalked up to callow exuberance.

Enter elony. Living forever is easy when we flow with what we are, including our wacky and way-out visions for another way, a better world, a new you. We are so lucky in our times to have a living breathing example of a human who embodies elony, who knows how to play. With just a smidgen of elony, your life will become legendary, too.

I aspire to go full elony, maybe even elony to the power of elony. I wouldn't mind. Yeah, Elon Musk is a white male, but that's just a clever disguise, meant to throw you off, give you an easy out. Elony belongs to everyone, every variation of gendery, colory, religiony. How do you feel? I feel fucking elony!

That's Nothing, Episode 109 of the Daughter of Godcast, Summer Vacation. That was a dense transmission. Did you fully assimilate? What would Shakespeare say?

To-morrow, and to-morrow, and to-morrow,
Creeps in this petty pace from day to day,
To the last syllable of recorded time;
And all our yesterdays have lighted fools
The way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle!
Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player,
That struts and frets his hour upon the stage,
And then is heard no more. It is a tale
Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,
Signifying nothing.

Macbeth, Act 5, Scene 5

There's a little prize hiding in Macbeth's speech. Before time began, nothing is what bubbled and burst forth into everything we know. Nothing is a spigot of primordial ooze, the flash of fusion, our first mother. Along with going full elony to the power of elony, I aspire to signify nothing with these podcasts... and dang, if I haven't succeeded with flying colors.