Tuesday, 18th July 2017
Life is not so much a circle but a conical spiral staircase
A sadly comical sort of gradual incline up a pyramid
The first few cycles are the longest, the most intriguing and often terrifying, though with honesty and naive belief in your direction
Then it starts again
Certain things seem similar though still unknown, a soft sense of deja vu, a love story, a heartbreak, struggles and disappointments, hope and adventure
And again it goes round
But this time you can see a certain pattern underneath your feet, if you look down you can see where youve already walked and you begin to see the structure of it, the struggles of hope and disappointments of adventure
But now you know you are also climbing something and that with every step forward you are also writing your past, a future point to look upon from above
There's no need to look backwards but to look below sometimes, and also above to the fog covered trail
There's always compromises and what gets lost along the way is hard to reclaim but there are also the promises of new adventures or revisiting old ones with new perspectives
Tuesday, 18 July 2017
Thursday, 23 March 2017
Thursday, 23rd March 2017
*scifi idea* each life brings them closer together. the sense of deja vu or fate is from knowing part of the next life and the connections that will be built in it. like a film on repeat until the film becomes aware that it is a film and then begins to recognize its own film, scenes overlap, bleeds occur. life blurrs into turning points, pivotal moments recur, over and over again. the film becomes points with space inbetween. now we are data, binary code. and code can be manipulated by the one with consciousness
*scifi idea* each life brings them closer together. the sense of deja vu or fate is from knowing part of the next life and the connections that will be built in it. like a film on repeat until the film becomes aware that it is a film and then begins to recognize its own film, scenes overlap, bleeds occur. life blurrs into turning points, pivotal moments recur, over and over again. the film becomes points with space inbetween. now we are data, binary code. and code can be manipulated by the one with consciousness
Tuesday, 13 December 2016
Tuesday, 13th December 2016
Say to your God 'You are my best friend, you are the one I create with', because we all may seek attention from strangers and friends, gain or lose status taking us from one great height to the experience in the gutter, whatever our journey we all share only one partner in it all and that is your other self.
Your attractor or/and your repeller conspiring with you to make up stories and create characters to enter your world.
Your life is a myth and a fantasy and you are in on the joke without remembering it, because to find yourself in a game of hide and seek is both terrifying and freeing. This was the answer all along, and together you can create new worlds each knowing that you are always a part of the other.
Say to your God 'You are my best friend, you are the one I create with', because we all may seek attention from strangers and friends, gain or lose status taking us from one great height to the experience in the gutter, whatever our journey we all share only one partner in it all and that is your other self.
Your attractor or/and your repeller conspiring with you to make up stories and create characters to enter your world.
Your life is a myth and a fantasy and you are in on the joke without remembering it, because to find yourself in a game of hide and seek is both terrifying and freeing. This was the answer all along, and together you can create new worlds each knowing that you are always a part of the other.
Friday, 9 December 2016
Friday, 9th December 2016
And so finally he let go. What he first considered as holy he now saw as an empty trap, his fingers grasped at an air illusion that never even gave him the physical object to cling to but simply a shadow of his own desperate desires.
He fell through the air watching phantoms pass by as he descended with increasing velocity into a nothingness held together only by the lack of something to envisage in its place.
After a quiet hope of reconciliation, a change in both him and the other, and after having tried every approach he could think of, and after following one mirage after another created by it, he at last gave up, and how satisfying a sip of release is after entombed captivity, watching the created images projected upon the white walls in front of him.
If it is something you cannot see or imagine it becomes just an idea formed by meaningless words, never again would his fingers touch keys to an actual being but only a deformed memory misinformed from the very beginning, and no amount of time would ever clear up the mess that he had made, only realising that the mess was always only in his head and any physical manifestation of it was simply a reflection. And within these phantom mazes sometimes you may hear phantom voices speaking to you, they may speak enticing words to seduce you, they may know every darkest corner of your mind and seem to voice themselves as those walls, but it is still all within you, and those voices were never there in the first place.
And so finally he let go. What he first considered as holy he now saw as an empty trap, his fingers grasped at an air illusion that never even gave him the physical object to cling to but simply a shadow of his own desperate desires.
He fell through the air watching phantoms pass by as he descended with increasing velocity into a nothingness held together only by the lack of something to envisage in its place.
After a quiet hope of reconciliation, a change in both him and the other, and after having tried every approach he could think of, and after following one mirage after another created by it, he at last gave up, and how satisfying a sip of release is after entombed captivity, watching the created images projected upon the white walls in front of him.
If it is something you cannot see or imagine it becomes just an idea formed by meaningless words, never again would his fingers touch keys to an actual being but only a deformed memory misinformed from the very beginning, and no amount of time would ever clear up the mess that he had made, only realising that the mess was always only in his head and any physical manifestation of it was simply a reflection. And within these phantom mazes sometimes you may hear phantom voices speaking to you, they may speak enticing words to seduce you, they may know every darkest corner of your mind and seem to voice themselves as those walls, but it is still all within you, and those voices were never there in the first place.
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