Present Possessions In A Past Tense
“You can't go back home to your family, back home to your childhood, back home to romantic love, back home to a young man's dreams of glory and of fame, back home to exile, to escape to Europe and some foreign land, back home to lyricism, to singing just for singing's sake, back home to aestheticism, to one's youthful idea of 'the artist' and the all-sufficiency of 'art' and 'beauty' and 'love,' back home to the ivory tower, back home to places in the country, to the cottage in Bermude, away from all the strife and conflict of the world, back home to the father you have lost and have been looking for, back home to someone who can help you, save you, ease the burden for you, back home to the old forms and systems of things which once seemed everlasting but which are changing all the time--back home to the escapes of Time and Memory.”
― Thomas Wolfe
In the game of indirect relationships that are seemingly inherent within anomalous events, it equally seems that their complexity extends beyond the mathematics of the written word to the extent when trying to describe what is possibly between A and B, one falls into a meta-trap wherein a sentence reads like a Zen Koan or worse, a form of alliteration where rational logic becomes incoherent, lost in translation. Perhaps this is a narrative concerning the bias of the tool maker as a story teller in search of new mythologies as metaphors as a pavement to travel to new lands while still glued to the campfire.
This post had no title and the first descriptive sentence I could come up to match a certain conceptual matrix with was “the mask that has no mask” which harkens to the deconstructions of surrealism. If I were not self skeptical, I would assume that some aspects of the reality we exist within are a secret that by design conceals itself but then we get trapped by our own defining of behaviors and again, all of this has indirect relationships that end up having me be hoisted by my own petard by superimpositions that stubbornly defy description.
All of this brings to mind imagination and consequently concepts that have no form, which then brings to mind the invisible man who had to wrap himself in bandages to be seen. Going further down the rabbit hole, there has been a great deal of dialog and debate in the scientific community about the equally loaded language generically termed “life after death” which if you ponder this for a moment and the associations it brings forth, it’s a incoherent framework as it is screaming apparent that any sentient existence of ourselves beyond physical embodiment would have no resemblance to life as we know it.
Experiential realities force us into an orientation where we become chefs in someone else’s kitchen taking the ingredients we have been given and as an admixture of art and knowledge we concoct recipes to digest always avoiding those that give us indigestion and perhaps that’s another way to express bias as a taste, a sort of imprinted attraction/ avoidance binary code, or as some have said an unconscious player piano.
When it comes to the mathematics of language and the database of thought as ingredients to cook associations and identifiers through our imaging apparatus, I find it compelling that the best recipes as transient solutions to whats in our refrigerator occur when we are not directly in search of them and then without any energy directed toward resolving a puzzle being directed in at it ….then a recipe in the form of a gestalt appears out of “nowhere”.
It makes me wonder if we spend most of our existence in a dynamic of unconscious self sabotage.
What synthesizes the observations of a Siberian shaman, Gurdjieff’s Holy Planet Purgatory, Princeton’s Global Consciousness Project, the “afterlife” of sentience, and masks that have no mask, ghost data.. all bundled in a meal given the indigestible moniker of Unidentified Atmospheric Phenomenon..with a dash of quantum mechanics?
King George V made this notation in his diary regarding the metaphor of vehicles without a pragmatic purpose which was placed in the context of what was to be seen by it's locality in the technological frame of what could be anticipated....
"July 11th. At 4 a.m. the Flying Dutchman crossed our bows. A strange red light as of a phantom ship all aglow, in the midst of which light the masts, spars and sails of a brig 200 yards distant stood out in strong relief as she came up on the port bow, where also the officer of the watch from the bridge clearly saw her, as did the quarterdeck midshipman, who was sent forward at once to the forecastle; but on arriving there was no vestige nor any sign whatever of any material ship was to be seen either near or right away to the horizon, the night being clear and the sea calm. Thirteen persons altogether saw her ... At 10.45 a.m. the ordinary seaman who had this morning reported the Flying Dutchman fell from the foretopmast crosstrees on to the topgallant forecastle and was smashed to atoms."
A strange bezel to peer through.
Perhaps a better title of these thoughts would be voyages of the dead and the seeking of a resurrection by attempted theft of a locality by being returned through the chimera that represents itself in the eyes of their witnesses. Donning borrowed masks, replete with Gurdjieffs means of their artificial orientation to a locality in order to transit via what he termed “omni-present platforms” The shaman whose narrative was supplied by a researcher to me, as if to underline Gurdjieff’s metaphors as behaviors when he said UAP represented ( paraphrasing him) souls in turmoil..which then links back to a very similar framework of Gurdjieff and the unembodied now non human creatures who could not shed their “identities”...Plasmatic orbs in former haunts, orbs in the atmosphere, the dust past it’s expiration date attempting to congeal in a eternal quest of return. Masks that have no mask...Is the focus of coherence represented by RNG when catastrophic events occur globally via a energetic field, a means of transit or perhaps an invocation that has an oblique connection?
In every fiction there is an element of truth and the same could be said by reading that statement in reverse order, and so this writer thinks on poetics as a series of observations that indirectly point to a reality not directly manifested in their sentences.
The same may apply to us.