Tracing the essence

Tracing the essence and how an image is communicated with tones of details and specific, reinterpreted with the same tone of details and specific, but most likely not exactly the same. So what makes the sensation of understanding? Are the words the building blocks of that image? Is there an essence in it? Is it possible that the unspoken is the essence? And what is the message? Do we really tell different things? Or just one thing? What’s that thing? I would bet on it being “I love you. Tell me a story”. That’s what we always say regardless of the choice of words, or colors, or sounds, or dance, and so on. The choice of words, colors, sounds, or dance is the story itself and it’s replied to with the same “I love you. Tell me a story.”



What makes you you?

Have you ever questioned who you are? Scary feeling, right? To define yourself is to limit yourself. It’s a weird feeling understanding that you are nothing and everything at the same time. But maybe I’m getting ahead of myself. I tend to make it complicated, my exploration. But one time a friend answered this question with things like “the music I like, the movies I watch” and I found it a pertinent point of view. Usually, the ego needs defining. What’s your take on the ego? Should it be dissolved? Or should it be just tamed? Do you think asking a question like this sets a lot of egos in defence (as a natural mechanism), I don’t know, maybe altering answers, maybe speaking to a more personal degree of the self, as opposed to asking about the nature of the universe – which would be seen as more external? Like “What makes you you?” and the ego goes “Me me? Wait. Am I in trouble?” As far as you’ve seen, what speaks to an individual strong enough so that the energy of that idea becomes a path of dedication to humanity? What I’ve noticed watching Ted talks, got me this idea: something that the individual struggled with and overcome. For example, someone bullied for being gay took it as a mission to help gays get out of the closet; or someone who had cancer got into helping cancer research. Krishnamurti defined the ego as the desire to become, the drive being of a pulling nature, whereas others argue you are defined by the series of events that brought you here, more of a pushing nature. Hmm, this reminds me of Theseus’s paradox that raises the question of whether an object that has had all of its components replaced remains fundamentally the same object. If the events change you on all levels over time, what stays the same? Isn’t life about carrying a message from the child you were to the old man you will be? It’s hard to see clearly. A lot of “awaken” people got there after deep depression. But “awaken” people from Buddhism for example didn’t need suffering. (I put it in quotation marks cause that’s a whole different topic). I tend to believe that “being awaken” doesn’t mean lack of sadness. Actually doesn’t mean lack of anything. Means accepting all feelings and emotions. Do you guys find tiring playing the roles of society? Why is that? But let me ask you this. Tell me if you relate. When I was a kid I saw adults as…adults, and I now realize I’m kind of the same kid. And people I know are kind of the same kids, right? How do you feel? Adult or the kid?



What is the universe? What is infinity? The greatest mystery there is, right? We’ve already established the mystery of life is not a problem to be solved, but a reality to be explored. But what are the main engines of the exploration? I would propose two, remembrance and experience, while imagination is the ship. Infinity is such an abstract concept, one would think we’re obsessed with coming up with things impossible to grasp. What would we do if we knew we know everything? No more stories then. What we don’t understand, which is everything, we tend to describe with a story that starts somewhere and ends seemingly in another, and the only thing that misses from it is the object itself, the story being the surface line of the form you are describing, the only thing that changes being the subject, you, the point of view. I know, I know, makes no sense. Well, what’s funny is that this infinity, the everything, is something with no start and no end. Often a paradox, I find. One can feel the infinite in a single moment, but unable to articulate. Consciousness loves stories. Makes more sense for the infinite to be linked and equal to the moment. It’s just another concept of the universe, and the universe, you’ve seen it time and time again, you exploring freak, seems to be based on paradoxes. Anything exists only in relation to something else. That’s what relativity is. That’s why Einstein was a goofy kid character. Madness I tell you. Math, I’ll give you that, and all science, religion, languages, describe faithfully, as true as the needle to the pole. Pretty impressive, right? But they describe. Nothing explains, everything just describes. It’s all just language. Asking “why?” is the most stupid and useless question there is. You might argue without it we wouldn’t have a lot of answers. But I argue all the answers came from the question “how?”. Our language is very limited. Take the concept of “why”. Some people place the answer in the past, others place it in the future, it can be in the present. I believe all is true and much more. If I really had to answer the obsessive question of our species, I’d rather put it in the present, which is what I would choose in the context of my own subjective life, as it offers me the relief of serving my purpose by doing what I am doing. “Why are you doing what you’re doing?” “Because I’m doing what I’m doing”. But the main argument I consider, holds this assumption that there is cause (and effect) that comes along with this “why?”. If there’s a cause, there must be a primordial cause, which means infinity begins, which means it must end, which means the infinite is finite. Which begs the question what is outside the finite? There’s not much I know. But one thing I pretend to know is that doing the reverse of what you did does not stir you back to where you started. You have to make your way forward through the matrix.


The war of art

If the Earth peoples, if we are part of the planet’s point of view, then it seems to me that the astronaut overview effect is the earth tripping, having an out of body experience, gazing at itself from outside. What an out of body experience seems to do is recontextualize the self. So, I’m thinking as a possible answer to the question “what would happen if all people on earth were physically in the same place, at the same time, mindfully?” is, maybe it would lead to a kind of collective out of body experience, from which a result could be this re-contextualization of the collective self, bringing clarity as to what new cultural narrative we need (or is looking for us). No great story is ever written. All great stories are rewritten. This is a call for all writers out there. We have a responsibility to write a better story of humanity, one that unites us; for all those who are not read, keep rewriting your inner story, paint it, sing it, annoy the rest of them, create wormholes, powerful loops, risk vulnerability, fully shape the truth in lying words, sell valuable facts, artefacts, monuments, logo architecture. Being an artist is like being the owner of a shop. Every day it’s your job to open the shop. Some days nothing happens. But other days it is buzzing with activity and people. But those days, when it happens, don’t exist if you don’t open the shop. Overcome resistance, like the warrior you are, summon the muse; by doing the work. Overcoming this resistance is the war of art. Exploit feeling being born too early or too late for your time, but also feeling lucidly present. The artist is not good at following order, he is order following chaos. Risk. There’s a reason why they call it a long shot. Cause it has the power to shoot longly. The universe is like a planet with one tiny continent, one land, an island. There are the end and the beginning. Most people are in the ocean. It is the artist that has backstage pass to the island. And remember, what happens in one world, echoes in another.


Deconstructing the noosphere

Everyday normal guy. I believe I’m doing well in life. Managed to not kill anyone, managed to not get killed. I’m on track with the main plan, don’t kill yourself, grow old. Can’t really figure it out where this begun or what started it, what changed our attitude towards reality from it being a mystery to be enjoyed to one of a means to an end. What happened to exploring for the mere joy of it? I do not know. And we stumbled upon many philosophical questions. But what I believe to be the main thing we need to focus our attention on is this duality. Is it good to have bad? Is it enough to have only good? How can we make the right choice all the time, and is that possible at all, considering, you know, our ignorance. My head hurts just trying to wrap it around questions like that. What happens time and time again is this. We explore, discover, invent, use it for bad, use it for good, repeat. So is there really something wrong about the world that needs righting? And is it really of any use to suppose there is something wrong, considering no one man can even grasp the whole world? Doesn’t it come down to the small choices of every individual? Do good deeds sum up to good outcomes? How much are we slaves to context? Are we? And if so what does it mean? Are we just characters in a massive theatre in which energies like power, love, good, bad, put on a show? Do we really want a show called Utopia? I think I do, but do I? Who’s to say we aren’t in it just dreaming? Wheather we construct or deconstruct noospheres, the pattern of the hero’s journey is projected or observed. Every movie, thought, song, the structure of a day, of a year, falling in love, going to work, taking a shit, it’s all a hero’s journey my friends. Are you? My friends… My enemies? My reward? My community? Are you me entertaining myself? The great Conundrum I guess. See? If I were to subscribe to my philosophical ideas, which I don’t, I would say, people of Earth, before we do anything else we should all stop and figure this out, decide to do only good, word of honor. Or not, you know? We can decide we all do what we feel, but if you kill me I promise not to hate you. Except, the truth is, I don’t know if that’s the way to go. I don’t know if there’s something wrong with the world and sure as hell can’t do anything about it. But I’m doing well in life. I enjoy the internet. Technology most probably won’t turn against us. It will always be connected to us, like extensions to our bodies, so that doesn’t scare me. If technology is the human mind turned inside out, what is the human heart turned inside out? What scares me is the power these machines are capable of and our inability to make the good choice from the start. I’m afraid of an overdose effect. We’re so addicted to creating technology to the point where our tolerance or resistance to its evergrowing dose is lower than its power and might eventually destroy us, but it would be us destroying ourselves. And if so, what’s so tragic about it? Aren’t we the universe manifesting scenarios for the mere joy of it. Maybe to experience what would be like if I (the universe) were obsessed with exploring myself with means to an end and invisible beginnings. I wonder how long till I find myself if I hide from myself. I wonder how it would feel like if I didn’t know I’m free and infinite. That would really freak me out, I bet. Hi hi. I would have to really believe I’ve got stuff to lose, I can already see myself having a sort of head or something to hurt struggling to make a decision or other, as if it weren’t all one and the same. I gotta do something, man, this utopia doesn’t do it for me anymore. I gotta lose it, forget it, come up with it and find it again.



The air is cold and still. Silence killed every living being long ago. There’s an echo from the past of someone convinced, and amazed of there being something rather than nothing. The last small, stubborn proof of that proves to be conditioned by a birth of syncing a harmonious neutrino phenomena met half way by a beat made of habit and the focus of two idle lids covering the projectors for another possible final lit. The flux and reflux of a breathing surrounds this isolated, deserted planet. Sharp creaky snow cuts all the way through the bones as it shouts dark magic chants by which all things with mass are brought toward one another, dissolving the skin of my bare feet. Its perfect white, reflecting the starts, pains the ground in a mysterious shine, while the stars pretend order and meaning in a continuous light on the dark sky. The night is clearer on this wonderful planet compared to the world I come from. Beauty. But a cold and lifeless one. A place for metaphysical contemplation.

Alone, I left the safety of the base to reflect on the day’s events as I let myself captured by the atmospheric phenomena and their indifference. But I find it impossible to think about anything else but the absolute enormity and impersonal nature of the universe. Galaxies gearing, the universe stretching in its eternal morning, space breaking in cold ice, the warmth of stars being born, their spasms when they die as red giants. For sure this must be the essence of existence. Men and life in general seem irrelevant in this theater. Just a bit of water, fat and carbon on a tiny blue dot round a star with no obvious particular importance.


Island Cinema

Let’s imagine a man and a woman live on an island. Immortal, no need for food. All they have are a video camera with infinite battery and infinite storage space, a laptop to edit and a big screen for viewing. What would they do? They would start with short recordings of the surroundings, of themselves, reflecting the good stuff, happy moments. As they start playing more and more with this, the movies become longer, more complex, they add imaginary play-pretend dangers. The better the movies become, the more engaged while viewing they become. You would imagine, as this goes on, after thousands and thousands of years, playing with all kinds of scenarios, knowing is all play-pretend, they get to make movies that last even hundreds of years with all kind of dangers, even tragic happenings. Now they’re watching one of those for 50 years, they are halfway through, at this point things go awfully wrong, and even thou they consciously chose all series of events, they forgot it is only a play, they’ve been watching for so long, they’re so involved in it, they believe it’s true, their consciousness is long transferred into the movie. At this point they’re asking themselves what did they do to deserve this, what is life, is there free will, is there a god, what’s the point of all this. They are stuck in this unraveling of what they chose for themselves for the mear purpose to experience diversity and entertain themselves, but they did it so well that they forgot. Their imagination is now real in their experience and all they can do is watch until it’s over and they remember. “Oh wow,” they look at each other, “Let’s do it again! But this time…”.