Sticky stuff - gravity. Lumpy stuff - matter.
In the vast abstraction between zero and one, nothingness wobbled and became - something--a number -- an infinitesimal quantity of time. And because everything that can exist must exist, in that same wobble, anti time emerged and the opposing forces rushed together in an almighty bang and blew the universe, like god's bubble gum, spreading outwards in all directions - sticky lumps.
And so it was, as the lumps moved out and cooled, they created dimples of gravity. Matter swirled together in gravity fed pools, and everything that was created, was created lumpy and sticky-galaxies and nebulae, slicks of molten matter - the aggregate of accretion.
Lava, resin, wax, albumen, sperm, saliva, sweat and all a world of other goo is ours. It is what we're made of and it's how we think. Our words make concrete of abstractions and build ideas into ideologies. Emotion brings a lump to every throat and moistens our mucus eyes. We thrill to goose pimples of fear and awe.
Birth and death are allies - reproduction and putrefaction - sticky and lumpy in equal measure. Matters of life and death are what concern us most - or so we say. Yet what if we all adhere to our cultural beliefs and stick to our guns? Then there can be no cohesion, only the clash of opponents and a sticky end.
How can we look from just our point of view on this small rock, as if it is the centre, and fail to see all times are really now? The wondrous progress of that first tipping point, must teach us that the opposite exists. And because everything that can exist must exist, there has to be another universe somewhere out there - dry and smooth - but sterile.