We all choose our own metaphors, myths and fairy tale versions of the universe. Today I choose to connect the dots from within the meatsphoric construct that casts us in the role of interior designers of the individual reality tunnels in which we reside. We choose the colors, styles and textures and arrange the elements to reflect our attitude.
feng shui, my sisbrahthren.
lest we forget, behind the wallpaper, over our heads and under the furniture lies the structural edifice itself Unlike decor, must be both practical and structurally sound. Doesn't matter that we painted a h3tty starscape on the ceiling if it's gonna fall on our head next week. so let's switch metaphors and tin-foil hats and now envision ourselves not only as interior designers but architectural re-designers as well, because CHANGE IS, and therefore we must operate from a dynamic perspective.
In spite of the ubiquitious nature of change, it is counter-intuitive to our hard-wired animal nature which tends to direct our survival instinct through a hierarchal chain: simple survival in the here-and now (fight/flight)>short term security>long term stability/comfort.
And so, in spite of being participants in a universe that is defined by constant change, we continue to foolishly set our fallacious foundations in firm bedrock.
Consider Reality Television.
The term itself is the penultimate triumph of Orwellian Doublespeak, and worthy of further exploration, but I bring it into the mix at this moment only because the cancerous genre has a particular sub-category identified by such catchy phrases as "extreme home make-overs."
You wanna see an extreme home makeover?
Rent me a bulldozer and bring your camera crew.
That's extreme make-over taken to its, well, extreme, but it's only optimal if the building's lost its practicality and its ability to maintain structural integrity.
Sometimes it's a painful necessity, like when your pretty little cottage is built on the fault line that separates the flat earth theory from our current perception of the shape of the planet based on modern scientific observation.
In most cases, however, there's something worth saving. Wisdom lies in determining what stays and what is replaced.
There's another alternative.
Trade it in for a tent, a good sleeping bag, and a land rover. Or a camel, if you prefer.
In order to survive, we seek shelter from the harsh elements and the natural predators. But too much time spent in a cave leaves one prone to sunburn when at last he ventures out.
CHANGE IS. No dwelling is permanent.
Reality is not etched in stone. If truth is to be found, it is as much in the wind-blown sand that erodes the pillars as it is in the carefully etched absolutes that adorn the temple that the pillars uphold.
A fluid, dynamic universe calls for a fluid paradigm; a constantly morphing/evolving/mutating mythos/fairy tale/reality tunnel/belief system.
Sanity Claus just can't seem to fill his own boots no mo'.
Ho ho ho.
Bop. Bop. Bop-bop.
I KISS my reflection in the mirror each morning.
keep it simple, st00pid.
Just as bucky defied the western architectural mindset with the utter beauty and simplicity of the geodesic dome, we can apply the same "simple-minded" approach to the construction of our New Fairy Tales. Recognize the divine geometry implicit in the very nature of Love, the metaphysical gravitational force that underlies the gossamer web of dynamic,interactive, ever-evolving human relationship.
total constant connectivity
we've already invoked the technological, n minus one dimensional model of gaian consciousness into being.
A wireless, global ether-network. digital, faerie dust info-particles carried by invisible trade winds jet streams and wormholes, across the great void of space and time, to miraculously regroup and reconstruct their original form upon reaching their desired destination.
Beam me up, Scotty.
I'm thinking about you right now, and although you can see the platonic cave shadow image of my thoughts on the screen before you, the real message is written and transmitted in the language of love and is being received in your heart RIGHT NOW RIGHT AT THIS MOMENT; WHEREVER, WHENEVER AND WHOEVER YOU ARE.
There are no firewalls, no filtering programs, no censor-bots here. All information is declassified and distributed freely and voluntarily in the "gaian ethernet."
Laugh at my fairy tale. Laugh long and hard and it will come to life before your eyes, for it is fnord in disguise and you've been wearing those ruby red slippers all along.
Magick is Nature and Nature is Magick. There is no duality, no separation no sidelines from whence any Monotheistic Grand Poobah/Coach can call the shots.
The universe is a conspiracy and we're all in on it.
There is no escape. all that is, is. As the illusion of boundaries dissolve, all that's left is relationship; connectivity.
We are all together.
The eggman is the walrus and vice versa.
All that is, is, and so are you and I. There is no "other." There is no them.
Bells theorem applies UNIVERSALLY.
You don't need a weatherman to know which way the wind blows, and while it may not be within my own means to suck my own caulk, I sure can blow my own mind, and I didn't need a bunch of computer geeks with complex nonlinear equations graphed in 256 colors to notice that the universe has a tendency to iterate itself similarly across scale.
From soup to nuts, no matter how you serve it up, it all turns to shit, but when you flush the toilet you can observe a miniature spiral galaxy being created and sucked into the black hole void of oblivion right before your eyes.
You can see resemblance in the family tree whether the perspective of the portrait is taken
or from within the microscopic landscape of our own inner being:
the pictures all tell the same story better than my words do, but from here it looks like a tale of a world that is engaged in the process of reaching out and touching itself.
Makes perfect sense.
when you are all that is and all that is, is you, there is no them, no other.
Nobody else to play with.
Cozmic masturbation as a metaphor for the new paradigm.
Don't be shy, give it a try.
You know you want to.
Feels good, yes?
And so I leave you to toy with your own thoughts, that is to say, with a most loving and kindly spirit and sentiment, "Go fuck yourself."