I love you world, but I can’t fully grasp you.
Every micro through macro consideration occupies my mind, such that settling on a conclusion becomes an arbitrary goal.
We are always becoming, but in each moment that slips into the virtual, the past, we had become.
Every argument I formulate before I speak is countered in a fraction of a second. Back and forth, I toy with my ideas, such that verbalizing one point along the argument’s multi-dimensional assemblage of possible paths feels reductive.
Reality is a delicate, fluid, dynamic thing. The past exists as a virtual space that we experience through memory (i.e. habitual, muscle memory and spontaneous, referential memory) and that virtual space can inform our reactions, propel our automation and even crystallize into the present.
Crystallized relics clutch the present in the form of their virtual birth, which serve as an ongoing ‘governor’ on our decision making, and in the form of their continued real existence, including systemic inequities, generations of poverty and marginalization. This present or ‘actual’ quickly becomes transferred into the past (and leaves residues in the present it seems!); simultaneously, like Bergson gets at, one part of its existence passes from the actual and another part joins the virtual, which occurs concurrently with the actual or present, and this perhaps describes the existence of moving time.
Meanwhile, the future seems to be on an automated path toward the virtual and the whole process seems to offer very little love through the conscious experience of present at all.
I feel a fracture:
-such that nothing I do is ever finished; nothing is disregarded, yet nothing is fully adopted,
-such that every man, woman, entity or idea has a case that may be empathized with, even when they are each at odds,
-such that every new connection between every person and particle is the creation of an entirely new world — a new status of the meshwork that is everything. Considered all together, along with the continuously growing virtual, a memory of space-time, this fractured world continues to grow in all directions like a rhizome.
I feel a fracture:
-such that the overwhelming nature of caring both empowers and debilitates me.
Caring extends and limits my capacity to be something more —
to be something revolutionary,
to offer something sophisticated, simplistic and timeless,
to be someone within everyone —
because I want to put a positive touch on the ripples of space-time — the fractured realities to come,
but meanwhile, the depth to which I live to care is the depth to which it hurts.
The overwhelming nature of feeling such a fracture by so many yearnings incites the overwhelming urge to be without.
- Without is where rest can be found.
While this perspective feels the fracture, it is one of many perspectives that exist together as one human experience — further, as one whole duration.
And then everything that exists, as one breathing system, peers through her eyes, his eyes, their eyes, to experience their perspective and inhabit a special space in time — a knot that dances within a meshwork of everything. And as their gaze moves, altogether everything moves with it, weaving and being woven* by it.
Perhaps a fracturing of reality occurs in the process of reducing, which is unavoidable as we attempt to translate a dynamic beautiful world into the limits of available language.
If we wish to be intimate with our fullest form, to experience our fullest love and beauty, perhaps we can accept that we are not a fully singular, discrete object. To experience love, we need not be singled out, plucked from the context within which we ‘are’ — that meshwork of relations between peoples, human and nonhuman, energy and particles, virtual and real — for we are inseparable from a larger duration.
*Inspiration from a beautiful note made in class by my professor, anthropologist and author Arturo Escobar — a central question is: “How to become mindful and effective weavers of the mesh of life.”