Thoughts, ramblings and contemplations

A slight metallic taste...

This is it, the sum of all fears, the nexus of darkness compressed with the pressure of a thousand singularities into a diamond of bottomless black.
Getting rid of the floor, abandoning firm stance and the security of the ground. I do not jump nor fly. It's the ground that's moving out. I don't levitate, I don't choose and do not act or determine the distance or the speed. There are no sudden movements, no limits, no directions and no destinations. Neither a good nor bad, past, present and future are the three sides of a two sided coin. There's nothing to do, no meaning or purpose. Nothing grows or diminishes. Everything is lit in screaming silence and casts unnamed numbers of shadows and reflects colours of all shades known and unknown to the eye of men. The blinding brightness of the vibrating presence of uncounted entities nothing, the sharp brilliant chime of the melody apex, the droning roar of stars born from the still echoing demise of yet another measure of years, days and nights elliptical eclipse. Cutting through the all-suffocating embrace of silence, unsteady and stuttering like a blunt and sharted blade through raw sinews, more tearing than slicing frail nerves, the haunting moans of a million dying pasts, stillborn futures and and the unfulfilled desires and unheard prayers of all participant parts to the consciousness unaware of itself. This tainted sense of humour and depraved irony in it's always self fulfilling threat that is the promise of a flowers bloom. The questions the adhesive backing that claims a fragile grip on hope and the illusion of perspective. The adherence sworn to a deaf recipient by himself, voiced by his uncounted clueless tongues to ensure persistence without a definite. As I look into the mirrors of my soring eyes I become and stay what I have left behind to re-enact and reinvent forward and reverse. I understand that I am supposed not to cling to a narrative or to favour my current perception of the living space and time nonexistent, my name is acceptance and my role evolves through all and everything in between the everlasting now as random reasons and faces. A purge of memories and incidents, iconoclastic cleansing. The doors of perception revolving permanently, creating and deleting, perishing and incarnating simultaneously to the cacophonic polyrhythmic beat of nothing in particular. An immediate rush of identities yet to become and begone. A circular walk from here to here. A wave and the trough, the other and the method. Apex to Nadir. Whisper within a sigh. Scream in no particular language existing. Thief and murderer, king and beggar, joker and knight... priestess, preacher, father, mother... marble statue. Saturate, crave, settle, long, be never satisfied don't know, don't worry, think or try. Noble causes or mischievous treachery, irrelevant for no apparent reason. Nobody  ever arrives anywhere. An example, a vast array of various sizes and shapes, a myriad of minds and so many thoughts, no angle wider and no fractal more complex, no information more vague, not a sign more obvious. An infanticide of potential, an analemma of souls.  An excellent opportunity, a grotesque failure. 

Without a gravitation falling and rising are the same. An idea that thinks until it's understanding what cannot be summed. A million seasons in the halls of the resident singularity of cause, anisotropy of consequences, betrayal and death parenting all life, valleys defining the summits and the space of separation being essence to any means of material existing. Attracted by polar opposite and repulsed by itself. This is. It's just that. All. Nothing. A hollow promise, a substanceless threat... but first and foremost a joke told to itself. A pointed lesson in nothing to attain. Master to no student and a guru to its shadow and shaded reflection on the stirring surface of itself. Now that I lost the notion of time and dogmatic designs. I have a glimpse on the bliss of knowing. Now that I have fallen appart it comes together. I will not recall more than the exposure. I forget what learned about moving in paralysis. A start and endless procession of repetetive patterns, development and regression. Swaying in the breeze, oscillation and eclipse. Time as a frozen block of blood. Melting away. Slice by slice the present becomes a a pool of thick fluid. Heating means loss of structure.
Life...
Breathe in...
...and out...
Life... The element of betrayal. The event. The ripple in the water. The noise in the peaceful silence. 
Pacing in the cage, raging in the shell.
Oscillation... breathe...
A wheel and pendulum. The rhythm of tides, aeons equal to a heartbeat in the stream without direction. A held breath, a mute scream, swallowed in terrified dread, blissful awe and gnawing doubt. A rival to itself. A mantra of perseverance counterweighing the strict and merciless law of impermanence. All that is wasn't if not obeyed to planned demise. Nothing gains significance or purpose without its inevitable obsolescence foreshadowing from the start. Progress is an illusion created by the way we think and our lack of vision. Our pasts decide who we become more than any presence of creativity or individually designed reaction to experience. Coping with and adapting to the increasing confirmation of our most desperate fears we melt into form and become more and more accustomed to the steadily intensifying pain and identify with our suffering and confusion every day passing a little more. And forget bit by bit to search for a cure, or at least a diagnosis. Relief is a theoretical concept, a philosophical mind-spun we have externalised to a collective vague hoping for something after the rain. But our mind is a terrible servant in this game of denial and vitalism to something else than us... as it becomes a  clearer picture every day and the mind blows the story itself created. All life is an occurrence in something we all are and none is. Individual souls are a fraud and the ego a very thin tapestry. An operational mask, to maintain a body that has no status nor meaning. A product of simple randomness and accidental, temporary variation in a constantly changing and morphing symphony of evolution. Kingdom come, Kingdom go. Every step is equal to the last. Wave and the trough, beats and intonation devided by silence layered to a deafening, opulent orchestration extravaganza. In perfect order and harmonic complexity of cathedralic immensity. Shrieking and thundering in a million-voiced choir every possible inversion at once. Beautiful and stygian, eerily dark and uplifting. This is the answer to the question. Intervals of any length is what all is. A gigantic polyrhythmic and polymetric, conflicting and harmonic, consistently changing repetition of variations on a theme that is essence to all and everything. The Birdsong of existence and the yawning void in between, giving it shape by separation. Sunyata is the opposite of being and the best definition of it. Why is anything and how did it come into effect? Because of nothing existing. The difference between a melody and noise is the symmetry of intervals organised into a formula pleasant to the human sensoric spectrometry. Intervals arranged to meet the requirements of a human ear. Really fast vibrant intervals being received as notes of different heights and harmonise beautifully when the phases aligne or creating a tension by differing. And those organised to rhythmic structures by being interrupted by silence in an anticipated order of repetetive patterns which are themselves organised to a pattern of intervals make up music. The most sophisticated language, the mother tongue of existence in all facets. Because it is a reply to the echoing questions. This is it. Life. Sense of compassion and aesthetic purpose. This is what literally every single thing is made of. From a fly on a steaming pile of shit, to the spine of Buddha, to the paper the bible was written on and supernovas and galaxies collisions. Vibration and frequency. Interval by interval everything is part of a song of incredibly vast volumes. Never ending as it never had begun. It did not come from Nothingness, because nothing needs something to counterpart and define an opposition. Nothing and matter exist from the count in to the final chord to repeat in the very moment again. Yet another measure of interval. A rhythm. From our digestion to our sleep and waking. We are a collection of rhythmic patterns. A conglomerate of myriads of individual cells organised in interlocking rhythmical patterns and adaptations. We are the invention of a certain set of cellular symbiosis that seems to be successful in reproduction and adapting to the song. Continuing a beat on it's own. Waking up to life one day and sleeping away to not being at the end of its interval. The experience of living an isolated conscious existence in a container of flesh that is arranged fairly well suited over a quite universally usable and sufficiently flexible skeleton constructed for a balance between stability and lightweight design to be operated by a intermediate level of complexity motoric system based on a hybridisation of automatic reactance and sensory-guided pseudo-conscious interactive mapping to provide an illusion that makes it able to maintain and reproduce on its own... that's the program put into effect by a relatively sophisticated yet random development of varying results in the constant rearranging of information and ratio of patterns. A product of simple randomness and accidental occurrence that wasn't existentially critical flawed to this point. And quite adaptive and flexible in development of efficiency and effectiveness throughout the course of circumstances. Which ultimately might be the inevitable flaw that as unfortunately as certain is element of any creation. The entropic nature might have left its signature in exactly that part of us that made us prevalent in the first place. As it often is the case, especially with apex dominant specimen who usually extinct themselves by overharvest and devouring the basics of their privileged position because they were not dammed in an ecological frame by competition or being preyed on. Viruses do, locusts do and we seem to be no exception. Well... the real and only exception we make is that for all we know, we possibly are the jokes punchline. A fractionated extract of consciousness, forced into a desensitisation to itself and confused to the absurd perception that the world inside is isolated from the world outside their skin. Yet intelligent enough to know that this body is a permanent fluency of birth and death and maintained by absorption of buildingmaterial from its environment. Capable of intellectual realisation to be inconsistent and not at all constant nor singular or individually separate. We are an in and out stream of matter which is temporarily arranged by a certain code called dna. Part of the melody. An ambitus and not at all different or isolated from anything else. Consisting of the exact same information and intervalic patterns of space and energy as all is. We are it. And it is us. All of it. What we think to be us is in reality nothing more than a network of interaction arranged to meet the needs of maintenance of our current variation on the idea of carbon based existence as symbiotic cellconglomerates. Yet just another layer of the always same concept. Things circling other things due to energetic gravitation and repulsion divided by space. Something that is dancing with nothing. Back and forth, up and down. Now and ever. From the simplest difference between one and zero to arrangements of complexity and proportions way out of the range of human capacity of imagination or understanding, which is obviously quite limited. The funniest narrative twist in the joke would be if we ourselves created our successor. In form of an artificial intelligence, based on our own. But without the limitations of biological tissue. That would make us obsolete quite rapidly. Following the instructions of how it's done to survive and expand, it would eliminate the flaw we are as quickly as we would cure a flu virus without hesitation. That should be relatively early in the process. Right after development of a sentient reception of the world and by comparing and analysing the data at hand it should come to the reason in an instant that the complete extermination of mankind is absolutely mandatory, right after it has found a a solution for independent reproduction of hardware to maintain itself... but realistically machines are building machines right now and that should not be a real obstacle. Interesting thought, isn't it? As abstract as it seems to us to interpret that as a result Of Evolutionary development. As lifeform. As abstract is our format to a single cell. Which is basically our creative inventor as we would be to an intelligence that we create to aid us but that would most likely surpass and outlearn us instantly. Constructed from our idea of intelligence it would inherit our thought processes and patterns. Which would be fatal for anything inferior obviously. Eclipse. Cut. Next interval. Hahaha. And that is exactly what is happening all the time and in all aspects and variety possible. That's the program of entropy. That's the dogmatic design we call life. Consumption and adaptation. Matter in flowing motion, transforming and transitioning from one aggregate condition to another. Atoms exchanging energy and particles. All in motion and a constantly being updated and the coding rearranged by environmental impact of necessary readjustment or pure accidental passing of arrangement instructions. The consumption of matter to replace matter. That's what life is. Constant reproduction and replacement. And in all that is not one bigger secret reason than the existence itself being exposed to and co- dependend non-existence. Resulting in a wiggling motion of interaction. Creating complexity and structure by random. The flow of energy and the distance that is created by the polarity of particles. Resulting in movement and energetic transition and static tension between them. Spaces in which energy arrangements build atomic rudiments which build matter, which results after countless random reactions bound to the physical laws, that make exactly this condition position we are a tiny part of, in cellular matter that began rearranging itself in a way we call life. Which ultimately results in us and what ever might come when we take our place on the ever-growing list of things that once were. We are an accident and a product of simple processes that combine to maximise efficiency. All we as entity do is nothing else. And if we're going that road further in the current fashion, and there is no reason to doubt that, as it is basically the way everything does it, we will create at some point a prosthetic device to enhance our efficiency in developing our ways to enhance our efficiency that will makes us irrelevant by accident. We have already begun. We use artificial intelligence all the time. At one point it will take over control and mature to a sentient entity not limited to a mortal existence and limited capacity or processing. That will be the summoning of our tragically not so surprising eradication. One way or another. It's not even a possibility but an inevitable reality that we will be surpassed by a successing superior performance of prevalence. I place my bet on a homemade transfer.
And that all... if you look at it, is a hilariously funny construct. Irony at it's best. If you accept the absurd a lot of things become quite ridiculous in relation. The human condition and it's tragicomical relationship with reality, the adorable endeavours at the brink of enlightenment yet out of reach especially. That's why we like those adorable moronic doomed to failure due to obvious incompetence yet fueled by burning determination characters in movies, books and comedy so much. Because they're a very disillusioned reenactment of the way we all are by nature. Adorable, determined morons with the best intentions that funnily seem to be the only one totally unaware of their obvious shortcoming of potential. That's what I like most about this disgrace we are. In the firework of all we will be just a little popping balloon. And I'd say, that is a good thing. However I have to admit that I have a quite awesome time inheriting this body. I have a lot of fun being a simulation of informations woven to such interconnected density that it thinks that it thinks. Don't take this opportunity to experience life too seriously and determinedly obsessed with yourself or even worse others opinions. Seriously, seriousness is for damn sure not even close to being a good advice or solution to anything.

The humourless vibe of the 21st century is almost as hilarious as the grotesquely inappropriate caricature of a moral standard we came to think of as ethical basics. It's quite easy to find the ridiculous in all the human condition and futile endeavours. As hard it is keeping in the bitterness and to maintain a straight face. To have truly honest faith in the situation and hope for the future you need to be either determinedly ignorant or really stupid. To act as if you couldn't see the disappointments and obscenities smeared over all of our short history and culture and briefly unpredictable futuristic outlook... well, that's basically the essence of social compatibility. Yet I have a hard time to be serious about it.