Looking-Glass Trip

What they never tell you is that once you get on this looking glass trip, it
never stops. It doesn’t matter that you can’t remember when you asked the
question, or what compelled you to, but only that the revelations never end.
There are days when it seems that schizophrenics have it easy, when the
narrative is so close to the surface that the day seems spent beneath a
skylight.

The feel of flow is the spice of this life, symbols as art the rudder of
kybernetes. Exploration is more a matter of self-defence than chutzpah, the
all-important need to stay afloat. Introspection is the holy inquisition that
puts ossification to the pyre.

{ Awareness does not need light }

Things start to seem strange, or at least deviant to prior modes. Innocuous
juxtapositions of sound and image become whispered strains of the ophitic
promise. Surreal moments chant the om of antisense meditation in synchrony.
Allowing the fear to flow through you is a good way to avoid killing yourself.
Sanity is an inevitable casualty; maintaining sustainable interactions with
your environment is an imperative.

The when of life mutates uncontrollably, synchronicity moments emerging as
nonlocal events. There are 23 chromosomes in a human gamete. Conceiving the
lifetime as the moment when now is the only thing that’s real.

{ Time is not something a clock measures. }

The evidence of your five senses become the usual suspects, corralled for
interrogation with knowledge of their duplicitous nature. The subject
overthrows the object in the fall of sensorium idolatry. With the kingdom of
knowledge in ashes, the subject dissolves.

An emergent phoenix rises as the morning sun, the pantheon of sensation as heir
to the pentarchy of perception. Hidden vistas become the archetype of
inspiration, rather than harbingers of ragnarok.

{ You do not see with your eyes. }

Emerging to vista, the terrain unfolds. Topology is determined by path
dependency: valleys the most probable, peaks attainable by the expenditure of
energy, plateaus as playgrounds of possibility. Forms on the brink of
emergence swim like dolphins immediately beneath the waves.

Sources shine in the logarithmic peaks, potential flowing from them like
magma. Extending and defining the surface, they recede from view as they grow
the realm.

{ You do not move without creation. }

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