Thought & Memory

The paradox of us is also fractal, it is within an individual and expressed in the echoes of the collective. They are so close to one another but the fruit they produce is so different. Passion or principle, hope or a stout heart, fear or wisdom, I could go on and on. These are almost the same. In fact, I have come to realise that in the ocean of endless now, there are no tides pushing us and pulling us, just us burning through life, localising through interaction and being distilled into a slightly different version of one in my peoples great range of archetypes. This play of now versus then is so precisely who we are.

We can enslave ourselves so quickly, to give up the warmth of companionship and resoluteness for an idea of what might be. To abstract the real to forget the past and to believe in predictions to deny the present. There is no future then and so who suffer these never experience life at all. So many people led away from joy into despair by our being forced, no, born into a point who sees only echoes and in turn has to construct the inner universe, a ghost alone in the infinite shell.  Initially, I thought this was a structure to prevent the collapse of the ego when facing mortality but now I see it is all we can do. 

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