February 27, 2015

I find it interesting watching the patterns of my thoughts. If I can step back far enough, I can see the linkage between the concepts that I devote myself to and the emotions that result. Deeper than that, under the thought, there is a river. A ropey divide that feeds on energy, the visual is quite extraordinary. The layers of the onion fall away and if I keep questioning where the roots are, I find it difficult to really find them. Ideas built on ideas that are not truly my own. I am a collection of beliefs solidified into a form I call my personality, founded on a past and pursuing a future that is reliant on these forms. This is a reality, one that I spend a lot of time in.

Looking back far enough, I can see something shapeless. It is a sponge that has not taken in the surroundings to the extent that it becomes any one thing. I was dabbling in the multidimensional, probing the boundaries, dismantling and constructing, without any commitment to the process. Before I started sealing in the layers and valuing my personal stratigraphy, I was a flow. I did not exist as a flow for long because my surroundings did not support it. Structure was required to succeed as a person and snapshots are taken of people, their surface stripped and analyzed, interpreted and then bounced back to let them know – this is who you are. When this happened enough, I started clinging to what bounced back.

Now, navigating my mind. I melt into the tangles, the sturdy soundness of my battlefield. It is not possible to separate the individual strings that connect me to a person, place, thing, or an idea that webs memories together. Instead, I divide the chunks, and ask more questions. Intriguing myself to wonder and be playful with the serious nature of what I claim I am. Deep and deeper, I come to conclusions and then watch them crack, crumble and disappear. It becomes similar to a falling down a hole, the sides covered in protruding objects and I grab to them looking for support only to find the object is not part of the structure, it pulls free and I continue to fall. Looking below, I look for bottom, somewhere to set down my feet, and I can’t see these feet I speak of. Instead, they are also objects protruding, not reliable for support. At this point, I start to change my reality.

Since all the objects around me are falling, I remove the walls and I no longer get the sensation that I am falling. I stop looking all around, searching for a hold and I spread as far as I can. Taking on a new image, another tool for conceptualizing, I become light. Seamless connection, I expand through space and fill the void. There are still more questions but for now, I enjoy this frictionless existence.