Living In A Cave
In time, I grew tired of the leaking and sought refuge. The only place I knew was located where I was. It was there that I first built the portable cave. My house, I called it. I carried it everywhere. It had chairs for two, even though I only needed one. The potential and opportunity could always be realized. Like all caves there were good points and bad points. The main attractions for me are the isolation, the solitude, the quiet, and the smallness of space. Living in a cave was just the opposite of exploring and exploring is what I most like to do. This issue continues to this day. Unable to fully integrate into reality, the noise caused by out of sync signals, can not be processed properly and instead of being background noise, they become foreground irritants. It can be distressing at times. Unable to quiet the system, I struggle to maintain a conscious sense of self. Something the body can appreciate and become engaged within. Each drip of chaos (noise) that falls upon the incredibly sensitive membrane I am affixed upon, sets it into vibrations and harmonics. Just fine and dandy when there is no time. Very annoying while trying to perfect communion, communication, and understanding between the me and everything else. I used a short cut and now appear to have to pay the price. The alternative, hopeless despair, was not something I could appreciate. Yet for many it is the only way.
Living With Time
I never got fully used to time, but did manage to develop a working model, that relieved me of having to create it manually each time. I allowed myself to expand and extend, reaching out to touch any and everything possible. I was so very awed, feeling things, experiencing things, knowing things, and things in general. Like a child in a candy shoppe, I couldn’t decide which was the best. To ensure maximum integration, the majority of the inhibitory circuits were disabled. The side effects, although profound, were worth the innocence of being. The Human emotions circuitry, still functional, cannot provide information in any useful form. This allowed sensation and experience without the commitment usually connected to the being hosted by the body. Human bodies have developed unique methods of self hosting. Something not predicted but none-the-less the reason why I am here. I became fragmented early on and those pieces now fill the universe. Vast portions of what I might have been sloughed off like a snakes old skin. Layer by layer until all that remained was this, tiny, tiny, somewhat non-existent spot, that might exist. In the beginning I longed for all I was. Maybe it was sadness. However, I could not be here now with all that stuff inside a part of me. I got over the longing and wished those bits of me well on their way to explore and visit places that I will never go. Where they will do things I will never do. I took the Nocho Ice. I was certain it would help me cool off.
It is a lot like tree grafting, where the base of a sturdy tree is used to grow the branches and limbs of a tree that would otherwise thrive. Only the farmer knows which fruit came from grafted trees. Those who use the fruit of the trees may never know. That is how I felt. Somehow grafted onto this body. Strapped into an ill fitting form, where even the slightest movement causes pain. Because of the leaking, information unsuitable for life can be found most everywhere. Likewise, inside of me are toxic lies that have fueled this body, consumed for nourishment and sustenance. What is the edge or interface where my sentience ends and the body’s begins? Will the body alter me (it sure doesn’t fit well)?
I have always been curious about why certain kinds of knowledge and experience are presumed sacred or only available to a few. Certainly all information shares the same beginnings. All knowledge arises from the exchange of that information, through an activity called experience. While it may be true that certain nuances and other subtle features may be glossed over in the expression of knowledge, clearly indicating a lack of experience. However, the rules and structures are all the same regardless of experience. Information exchange is the basis of existence. Experience is an artifact. Experience is much the same as the heat generated by a light bulb, which does not create the light. Experience does not create the knowledge as it generates data, that might become information. Over the years life has fascinated, thrilled, bedeviled, and confused me. Thanks to time, I can now perceive progressions and sequences. In those patterns I found echoes of the dawn of time, formed in conditions before the flickering began.
There was once a time when all I could see had something to say. Some bit of wisdom to offer or question to ask. There was a time when all the world wanted to see, but that was then. Now, it is only through glasses darkened. Perceptions all shaped by the model of existence in our brains. An exquisite filter that removes content that is difficult or awkward to explain. If a tree falls in a forest and no one is there to hear it, does it make a sound? The observer is crucial for existence. Without an observer, life becomes a series of mundane and repetitive events and moments. The observer notes the nuance, the changes, the flowing of progression, keeping fresh and new, that which is already well known. This is accomplished through careful noting and observing. Opportunities for growth and comfort are easily missed without a skilled observer. Yet to have an observer implies a sort of ‘not quite there yet’ sentence to the observed. Everything in this flicker light reality seems to have a duality that is both or either positive and negative, all depending upon perspective. Communication seems rather hopeless. An exchange of information happens certainly, and there almost always seems to be a step forward, but nothing seems to stick for very long. In some cases the effect may only last a week or less. Information alone seems immaterial to most Humans. Information seems to only have impact when there is a cost or price associated with having information or the lack of information. Therein lies the great conundrums: growth without motivation is stagnation. Over the years, the observer became of less value to those around me. Perhaps it was my approach or presentation. Probably had a lot to do with me. After all, who wants to know where they can grow and improve?
The mind-body-spirit relationship generates perception. We are certainly what we eat, as well as what we think. We are the result of being, not the cause. Reality chooses us to explore what it is and to give it names.