Wednesday, January 7, 2015

The Enigma of Myself As The Observer

I seem to be moving away from the shore where most of my peers reside and from this vantage point It is difficult to determine if this is a retrograde progression or an advance toward recognizing that the study of the paranormal is the study of the contingent nature of our conceptual modeling of the human identity yet to be determined.

Some days I cannot discern the difference between the paper I am writing upon from the pen.
The reactive compulsions that animate the autonomic. Some use the word entanglement in place of opinion that are in reality suspicions disguised as valuations. I see myself perched between a death to the world as it is inhabited and a introspection that seeks invisibility in a strange transit toward an unknown continent. There is no trail of popcorn left behind to return to being enmeshed in consensus and yet there is nothing empirical to replace the right angles of consensus with and in this, perhaps there is hope. Perhaps I am in training to become an amnesiac by choice. There is no misplaced nostalgia in loss, rather it is a welcoming acknowledgement that precludes the cement of my personality as a player piano within a refuse pile. The Buddhists see our knowledge as "crazy knowledge" Self forensics is a deconstructionism without anticipations as this process lacks a substitution of acceptable parameters that mimic the semi hypnotic state of engagement.
Where does this lead? Your guess is as good as mine.

I often have remarked that the anomalous is marked by the transformation of the observer to the observed, but this leads to the question of the nature of the observer as a pragmatic decision to focus on one side of a mirror of images. How do we separate the self versus the non-self by way of the paranormal?  The nature of our questions may be in error. Our self mythologies may mask the real which is seen as unreal. The medium as a message may be lost in translation.

Paranormalists outwardly seek clues as to the illusive and charismatic nature of reality as a singularity by examining accounts of exceptional experiential anomalies seeking a synthesis of thought that leads to a rational and conclusion argument aimed at oneself. We look outwardly of patterns that are unpredictable in their nature that by appearances alone... these manifestations are our own terms placed out of context. Yet everything in nature simply is and that the word supernatural tends to define the observer’s division of nature from his inability to make it conform to his or her programming by the adaptation to consensus systems that allow communication and it's measurements.

Can the nature of these enigmas be accomplished without self examination of one’s participation in collecting these puzzle pieces?
Can we think our way through this with our center of consciousness aligned with the collection and in some cases the hoarding of accounts? What is aim of this if one removes oneself from this compulsion? One has the impression that they and ourselves sense the same “otherness” inwardly as in the accounts proffered. One could call this existentialism or sublimated spirituality. Who observes the one who is observing? Why has one taken on this role as a participant who is strangely absent? What is the source of the question? I often wonder if this journey is a search to reconstruct innocence and in our efforts that lead to suspicions on one hand and beliefs in another, our orientations appear to be constrained by them. When a ghost appeared in a photograph, it's manifestation provoked in me a response that asked what physics now attempts to place in a cartography. Which one of us is the ghost? A friend suggested it was a portent. He sent this image to a physicist who specialty is the examination of photographic anomalies.
His conclusion was there is no conclusion and yet he was unaware of any methodology from a technical point of view that would produce it. If we utilize the concept of purpose as we understand it, what is it's purpose? More importantly, does it require one in relation to us? Do we have a coherent definition of purpose? One question leads to another in deconstruction.

We cannot envision consciousness without a center.
Thought appears to be a program, nothing more. Programming  language appears to be a blockade. The Taoist would say that if you can describe reality, you have not found it.
One image is replaced by another. To recognize this situation appears to be a anathema.
The universe of experts proliferates by opinion alone.
Yet perhaps knowing our finite and therefore incomplete nature is a proverbial child’s first step.
The irony may be we critically assume a posture that is simply reactive, autonomic and without presence rather than conceptualizing ourselves as clueless rubes attempting to impress kangaroos. We avoid internal silence that allows a division of attention where our programming does not intrude.  Perhaps what I see in myself and others is an expression of a buried assumption that something is missing.

It may be existence as defined by stability, predictability, a fixed cohesion unchanged.
I often ( and yet not often enough ) recognize that this is an upside down point of view in which I have oriented myself as in the last essay it is a very strong likelihood that spacetime is unfixed as if the lack of a set trajectory is the aim of creating a self identity yet to be determined.
What is without ( that ) uses us to explore itself as we use it to explore within by comparison to what is without as an ecology to create a shared self awareness that cannot be fixed lest it perishes. Yet there is no zero in this, no “now “in this.

Perhaps evolution is more art than a hard science as we define it. The modality of imagination as the axis of possibilities seeking expression.

Maybe not.

Perhaps we are everything and nothing specific at all at once......... and the poets are actually scientists.


  1. Imagination. Better to be lost than dead, and mechanical. Even if that is a fools game. Everything mostly trying for freedom, and with absolutely no navigational skills. Worlds are made of such things, even if unexpected.
    Some say dust in the wind, some say plasma.

    I think there is a humor that escapes us, and maybe drags off the interesting bits. There is math for that, but that is just spirals.

  2. I sent the Eden Ahbez song when I read the last sentence of this blog post. It seemed to parallel the closing lyrics of the song.