As the prophecy foretold, I will keep on this path that I had almost abandoned.
That’s a scary thing to admit but it is quite true. I struggled for such a time with whether to further pursue this little thought experiment that was started over three years ago now. Time, that tricky devil, can fill the mind with such doubts in itself. Though it may really have more to do with man than time itself.
But how far it seems I have come and yet how far it is to go. The crushing weight of impermanence pressed down on I and all those I know and love. Mortality of our ideas and thoughts is just as real as that of the flesh. We squishy beings seem to all struggle to grasp an idea of meaning or identity. Whether it be carved from our own experiences or conditioned to be, maintaining true to those core mentalities get no relief from strain.
I claim weariness and build my pile of dissatisfaction to keep all out, or maybe just me in. I suppose we all do, but I really shouldn’t speak for anyone besides myself. Either way, this claim is weak and unjust and should not be tolerated. I’m tired of all my own excuses and crave to find new catchphrases. I fear being irrelevant too much to let my laziness continue.
At this point, it could be very easy to reflect upon all that had been and say something like, “golly, it’s been a hell of a trip” and pat myself on the back for how far I have come and curse that universe that fills my memory with regret, follies and foma. Even the beautiful catastrophes can no longer be used to prolong the present further into the future.
I thought earlier, that I might publically damn the future tense and the comfortable insecurity its use provides. To hell with saying that this or that ‘will’ be, or ‘can’ be or even more grotesquely, ‘should’ be. Damn the promises of the past and only believe in what ‘is’.
It was going to be a whole big ordeal to go into but I realize now that it would only perpetuate the problem. Complaints in the direction of the future are exclusively the product to the lazy irresponsibility of the present, which is something I’m only beginning to see now. I could blame it on the past but that would only be further creating issue.
In fact, the only parts of the past that are so grand are so simply because they were allowed to happen because of my lack of intention. They happened and captivated me further because they were things my then limited capacity for understanding was perplexed to the point of viciously infectious interest.
The truth is that all the past is a paradigm and whether it truly is right or wrong matters not. It is most likely neither. Each moment in these years I’ve lived have been different then the last and the beauty has remained the same. I just have more words and other actions in which to describe this beauty that I see.
Now I could go on a rant damning the glass put in between paintings and people in art museums, and all other things we put in place to separate ourselves from a aesthetically crafted depiction of a specific perspective. But I won’t. I could rant about destruction, pain and violence, and how greed is somehow, in some way, at the root of it all. But I won’t. I could analyze and condemn humanity as a whole for not being able to get it together long enough to make sure that everyone gets to eat dinner. I could, but I won’t.
For you must dig, my friend, that in order for this thought experiment of mine to survive, it most certainly must adapt. All living things have to and I consider this to be very much alive. The idea within itself is an adaptation. It was, and is, a benchmark for the constant progression towards the future. Sure, this may only seem like my ideas being spelt out but I can assure you that it’s much more. It is now yours as well.
Don’t believe me? Well you shouldn’t have read this much then. Whether you’re going to admit it or not, this voice is now in your head. My voice, my perspective is now part of yours, no matter how invalid you may want to believe it to be. Why you allowed such a thing to occur is your business. Again, this is a one way transmission for the most part. ‘Tis just I expressing outwardly to you, with your say having no effect on what has been done here. I would say now but realistically, my mind will be off into something else by the time you bring this back to life. It could be minutes, or hours, days, etc. but its immortality is brought about by you.
And I suppose that is the only way that you can live forever. It can certainly go much further than your biological lifeline, but it can only live as that idea. Be it as vague as a memory or as spelled out and specific as this bit right here, it is only that idea that lives. As each word is typed, so it dies in this world. In this reality, if that’s what you choose to call it.
So then question becomes, why? Though I suppose why is always the question, when you break it down bare enough. So we’ll dodge that bullet and ask why would someone want their ideas to have such permanence? Seems like a rather ego-maniacal behavior, no? Selfish at the very least and yet those whose ideas live never seem to come across that way. Usually, they emerge in brilliantly decorated modesty, despite what their importance may be.
Perhaps that is what this idea of truth is. When someone’s projected perspective is able to ignite something in the minds of all, or at least most, of the people who get experience whatever that might be. Art, science, literature, technology- the classification matters not. There still has to be made a division between that which is nourishing and that which is parasitic but that may be for another post.
For now, I check out. Only until next week though kids. We’re back on the air.