Everything is now. They are us. We are them. Pythagorus, Euclid, Plato, Socrates, Aristotle, Parmenides, to name a few. Our Choices are our cross to bear, as they create the nature of all our realities–– Both shared and individual.
Our conscious choice
The same wondering each time we cross these roads, our choices act like waves who’s ripples permeate each and every iteration there after. Like another life. An inverted path in the complete opposite direction. leaving the possibility of each iteration of our choices to be…up to us?
I see my parallel selves converge on those 4 points, just outside the intersection, outside the conscious decision, back-out in the flow of life. Each decision slingshotting us through our latest learning curve towards the next cataclysmic iteration of ourselves. Spinning around and around on this blue ball twirling through space. There's no wonder we get a little lost in our day-to-day lives. We, our loved ones, coworkers, bosses, and kids alike are essentially and quite literally free falling through space and time. So take a moment to imagine the feeling of falling. Now imagine the feeling of falling in love–– Both prove exhilarating but nevertheless the feeling of falling by itself leaves us defenseless, with little control over where we land, conjuring feelings of anxiety.
"Imagination is to our mind and soul as the sun is to our body."
As humans we strive to make sense of our 3Dimensional world using series of 4s. As the 4 cardinal directions, North, South, East and West, guiding our physical senses. With 4 quarters in a marketing year managing our fiscal responsibilities. Just as the 4 elements guide our spiritual and nutritional survival, carrying us through the 4 seasons to where two make a marriage and a year leaves one wiser. All the while our choice having the final say––defining our very existence. Whether you're going up, down, left or right, we follow the path of a structured 4.
There is more to this life than we what we see, yes? How do we explore Dark Matters? How to assign words to an extra sense beyond the physical? But by pairing it alongside the extra dimension beyond what we physically perceive. Our ability to imagine is how we navigate our interconnected fabric of memories. Our brain’s electrical pulses associated with our emotional gravitation towards conscious compassion but a counterpart to the physical compass’ response to the electrical magnetic field of our planet––earth. As the late Micheal Jackson put it, “We are the world. We are our children.”
I theorize that our extra sense, our ability to imagine, holds the key to our ability to hope past what today provided into what tomorrow may bring. With a strengthened imagination we have a fighting chance of grasping the 4th dimension––Time. Because we are the same person as we were yesterday, some memories fading while other stay paramount, governing personal philosophies and shaping our character.
I see myself in an intersection of mirrors. The further I walk towards one iteration, the further I move away from what I perceive as the previous iteration of myself before my present. Each intersection leading me back to where I started, but then even still––different. Same person, but different iteration. Time working like a spiral staircase with the top step only existing because of the first step I took and the one preceding the step you’re currently on. A physical way to imagine Time preserving causality.
Which this lead me to the preverbal mountaintop that “its not ALL bad, right?!” That if consciousness means that all the good love that's in the world is there because we chose it, then the same goes for the distilled fear; fermenting into a potent hatred, holding consciousness in contempt of imagination. If the mature identity can survive in the full cycle then one’s narrative could only have hoped to flip their despairs fueling their imagination to hope tomorrow would be a different iteration–– of the same.
Charting a course towards a question is how we traveled oceans and explored new lands and with the intent to ferry more. I had hoped for a narrative that wouldn’t be as frail to buckle under the pressure of self critical thought and scrutinizing observation. I set out with strong bones and sought to thicken my skin to callus, numbing myself in order to survive, yet remembering nor forgetting the pain to which they were the result would lead me to my salvation. Instead my heartbreaks and failures would surprise me as revelations meeting me along the way as a guiding light in the dark.
When my narrative forsook my fellow human, casting them out in fermented fear, left my narrative weak in hope. For I could only lend my conscious sense to so many principles before they lost their ability to hope in any other way, having declared such sovereign loyalty to a single ideal forfeits my ability to imagine differently. Theres no wonder at why we’re driving ourselves crazy. Humanity in large are forced to endure the very definition of insanity. Spinning around and around on our earth and knowing the injustices, but going on as if we would have it no other way. Yet we’re surprised when time presents us with the same result..?
because our narrative is the same.
Those of us who’s humanity distorted by a flawed narrative that sewed seeds of creed into the lining of our loves. Naming conditions on which we were to measure our worth. I extend this olive branch, once again. The same branch extended throughout history. One of unconditional love and of a sound mind. One that allows for security in insecurity and certainty in uncertainty. The temporal nature of reality is temporary. Everything only existing to be affirmed by the event proceeding this very moment.
When you feel yourself in that intersection, alone, with nothing but dark staring back into you need not feel scared . You’re supposed to see nothing. You’ve been there this whole time, frantic, trying to find more of “the right" outside yourself instead of looking for the light inside you. Not knowing that what you seek be noting but sorrow in our pursuit for eternal bliss. because Now we know we are more than our indulgences. That we are pain is woven into our narratives and is intact what stitches us together.
So why banish me to a hell? Where I don’t like you because.. why ––?