I wasn’t going to put a piece out for this new moon. I didn’t want to. I don’t know why, but nothing was forthcoming amidst all the comings and goings in life.
But I wasn’t not writing. I just hadn’t felt that something I’d written was publishable, or intended for such a thing.
Then I shared something I’d written with my good friend
and she said ‘you should absolutely publish that’, so that’s what I’m doing.Work and life has been changing routines and schedules, and Nick Lets Rip is seeing the downstream consequences of those changes. I haven’t forgotten you though <3
Enjoy the Virgo vibes. Go clean your room or something. And enjoy the piece.
Story awaits me, every moment of every day.
It awaits me in the units of time, as a day is seen in comparison with other days, in the value judgments applied as to whether it was a 'good' or a 'bad' day, and in my interpretation of the world around me.
Yet, these instances stories are like nothing when compared with the stories being told internally at all times.
‘I am this’. ‘I can do that’. ‘I don't like the other thing’.
The narrative constructed by runaway thought yields more power over the main character of my life than any amount of reality seems to hold.
Has it always been so, and is it the case for everyone? Yet more questions without answers. What's more powerful—or important—the question or the answer?
Is story the way in which mankind best understands reality, or is it simply the greatest mode of escapism we've discovered?
If you could erase all stories completely, what would your experience look like? No language, no form, no division. Would that look like losing the plot or liberation?
Who would want such a thing? Surely the philosopher, determined to discover truth. But would it merely reveal the concept of truth to be yet another story?
These are the musings that echo in the caverns of my mind. They rarely make their way to centre stage, for there is no concrete centre. Perhaps these musings form the stage upon which my mind constructs its stories. The stories then dance upon the centre before exiting stage left, only to be replaced by yet another brilliant story, captured in the spotlight of awareness.
Who directs the spotlight? Do I retain even the slightest modicum of control when it comes to focusing awareness on a particular story or character? Is this the ordinary point where the collective story of mankind introduces the omniscient, omnipotent entity responsible for eternal oversight and, ultimately, judgment?
If yes, was there an individual genesis point for this story, or was it seemingly built into the programming of mankind by design, a failsafe to keep mankind on this side of insanity when faced with the infinite?
What happens to those who take the leap into the infinite? Is it a descent into madness? Turtles all the way down? Something beyond comprehension? Could you ever make it back? Would you want to?
And if you did make it back, what world would await you? Touching, tasting, perceiving directly some form of the infinite must surely leave a footprint on the stages of one's mind. Could the spotlight director focus the light on any other point after such an experience?
And, crucially, what relevance would any of this hold beyond the confines of your own flesh and blood? Are the contents, characters, and stories which populate the stage of one's mind in any way relevant to the next person?
In an infinite ocean of uncertainty and subjectivity, what importance can the subjective experience of another being hold for any, and all, of mankind?
Is consciousness itself fragmented? Or is it merely perceived as such through the clouded lens of human experience? And if fragmentation is part of consciousness, are all efforts to unify it frivolous?
Do you have TIME to clean your room??? Definitely not on my list these days... But write? So glad you could carve out that space again!