It is amazing a rotation that we often find ourselves in at the moment of leaping, as we attempt that movement from one state to another, also known as decision. How often do you find yourself completing this big loop, as if you have reached the same point as you have started, feeling sometimes that you have achieved nothing? Fear not, for this drawing of a circle is better described as a spinning in a spiral. Imagine yourself, at a starting point, and the spinning occurs, making you dizzy and fearful at times of the limitless conclusions; but there is no conclusion really, and you will be too dizzy to even realise where you actually are; and the great leap is made towards an infinity, or at least the imagination of an infinity because there cannot be one with our mortality. So why the fear? Some do not see it as fear but by the very constructs that we create from our ever so panicky minds, we prefer to draw circles, exulting ourselves with the perfect circles we have drawn. so the fear my reader, is but the threat that the dizziness causes to your unstable mind, causing you to not be able to think beyond the imagined infinity but regard your own finitude that we inherit. You will not seek endless roller coaster rides but only the comfortable sofa in front of the television set.
well, obviously i have digressed. but spirals, my readers are the basis of our existence, when the genesis explodes into possibilities but where possibilities are also reduced to exodus as the freedom is too great to behold. spirals, my friends, are the products of a foundation of experiences, too curved for the travelling consciousness to remember its way back but has, nevertheless, matured to a cone-sized monster that it no longer remembers what it has devoured to reach its magnitude, only to reduced itself, eventually, to a state of violence: madness, suicide or for some fortunate cases, just hauntings. The comforting thing is that not many people will think of themselves to be in such extremes. as long as lines are imagined as lines, squares and circles as complete and stable, the spiral is but another term to define a minority's condition. Violence, for those poor souls, is what ends the continuation of their predicament that they cannot even comprehend. If it is the complete boxes and circles that remain to be the norms, the unfit and the unsuitable will only find themselves as aliens to the system of geometry and regular shapes. they die and cease to exist in this society.
Irregularity, my mad friends, is what pulls us from the first state to the mouth of our monsters. But beyond this monster, my esteemed siblings, is where the monster explodes and cannot hold the silence that brews up in the tummy. Nowhere to store, conform, stablise, the pressure has only one way out and that is into the air. So much so that this state, for the lack of words, can be seen as immanence; a ghost-like existence that haunts those still alive and comfortable, despite of their impending doom, and makes the air thick and uncomfortable.
What monsters we breed!? but go unnoticed. the quick to notice goes mad. the quick to notice and still enters its mouth, commits suicide. the quick to notice, slow to enter its month but eventually survives the onslaught, mourns for his or her bodily death but finds him/herself floating in the air. A distant memory. A haunting. or a soul waiting to be given the eventual rest.
the riddles I speak are not meant to be understood in full. begin to see the world as a world in a discourse of living, and not death.
what great monuments and pillars we find at each curved corner of our spirals and often we dwell long enough, thinking it is the single path we have been threading all along or a circle we have been making loops. The hauntings of the long gone past are present and some choose to run away from them. But dear friends, it is not circles that persist to be around, but our desires ultimately pretend for us a stable pre-conceived notion of our state of existence; to think we are walking in linear or straight lines. The truth, my accuser, is that we have only walked enough to have piles and piles of circles on top of each other, interweaving and interconnecting at points we do not even know or remember. Maturity is not wisdom. It is knowledge, memories and ghosts that cannot let go, leeching onto each other to complicate our walking and to create boulders. How easy it is for us to whizz them away in our minds but they are still there. implicating possibilities, creating new options, obliterating our past possibilities, creating an endless state of interchangeable possibilities, only to complicate decisions, solutions and answers. until the mind can no longer keeps us sane, the monster appears. The spark to ignite.
the human life, my fellow pilgrim, is more complex than you can imagine. it is its simplicity that makes me shiver. we are simply a sophisticated time bomb.
there is only a way to defuse it.
You.
silence.
---
what has this other monster matured into???
tell me how.
well, obviously i have digressed. but spirals, my readers are the basis of our existence, when the genesis explodes into possibilities but where possibilities are also reduced to exodus as the freedom is too great to behold. spirals, my friends, are the products of a foundation of experiences, too curved for the travelling consciousness to remember its way back but has, nevertheless, matured to a cone-sized monster that it no longer remembers what it has devoured to reach its magnitude, only to reduced itself, eventually, to a state of violence: madness, suicide or for some fortunate cases, just hauntings. The comforting thing is that not many people will think of themselves to be in such extremes. as long as lines are imagined as lines, squares and circles as complete and stable, the spiral is but another term to define a minority's condition. Violence, for those poor souls, is what ends the continuation of their predicament that they cannot even comprehend. If it is the complete boxes and circles that remain to be the norms, the unfit and the unsuitable will only find themselves as aliens to the system of geometry and regular shapes. they die and cease to exist in this society.
Irregularity, my mad friends, is what pulls us from the first state to the mouth of our monsters. But beyond this monster, my esteemed siblings, is where the monster explodes and cannot hold the silence that brews up in the tummy. Nowhere to store, conform, stablise, the pressure has only one way out and that is into the air. So much so that this state, for the lack of words, can be seen as immanence; a ghost-like existence that haunts those still alive and comfortable, despite of their impending doom, and makes the air thick and uncomfortable.
What monsters we breed!? but go unnoticed. the quick to notice goes mad. the quick to notice and still enters its mouth, commits suicide. the quick to notice, slow to enter its month but eventually survives the onslaught, mourns for his or her bodily death but finds him/herself floating in the air. A distant memory. A haunting. or a soul waiting to be given the eventual rest.
the riddles I speak are not meant to be understood in full. begin to see the world as a world in a discourse of living, and not death.
what great monuments and pillars we find at each curved corner of our spirals and often we dwell long enough, thinking it is the single path we have been threading all along or a circle we have been making loops. The hauntings of the long gone past are present and some choose to run away from them. But dear friends, it is not circles that persist to be around, but our desires ultimately pretend for us a stable pre-conceived notion of our state of existence; to think we are walking in linear or straight lines. The truth, my accuser, is that we have only walked enough to have piles and piles of circles on top of each other, interweaving and interconnecting at points we do not even know or remember. Maturity is not wisdom. It is knowledge, memories and ghosts that cannot let go, leeching onto each other to complicate our walking and to create boulders. How easy it is for us to whizz them away in our minds but they are still there. implicating possibilities, creating new options, obliterating our past possibilities, creating an endless state of interchangeable possibilities, only to complicate decisions, solutions and answers. until the mind can no longer keeps us sane, the monster appears. The spark to ignite.
the human life, my fellow pilgrim, is more complex than you can imagine. it is its simplicity that makes me shiver. we are simply a sophisticated time bomb.
there is only a way to defuse it.
You.
silence.
---
what has this other monster matured into???
tell me how.
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