{:"(-------< *** >>-------)":}

The beacons all float dead in mid-air, propelled only by hope from below that the signals won't get lost in the ever-present noise static of their mechanical fabrications. My mom used to say that if I were to close my eyes hard enough, meaning not only to close my eyelids but also to end the struggle of sight, I could open a pathway and walk amongst the stars, that I could focus the man in me and non-locally roam in the outer realms of consciousness. I'm reliant on the beacons, in the darkest space sweat night they guide me home with their dead lights.

Were it only my hands that soared, I could take pieces of my journeys back with me, clutching tight— holding reality like a fabric, fractionally divisible, foldable, crunchable— I could use it as a blanket, covering me at night and my body would pass through it and I would be everywhere all at once. But, in a way, it is already like this. The world, I mean.

No matter how many theories I can create, no matter how many characters I am in the quest to discover the one true character, elusive and multi-shadowed, reality is always there: it is persistent, and inevitable. There is an entire language used to express its qualities of perpetuity.

Those beacons sometimes appear to be laughing at me, when I am high above them, trying to get back in to the earth's atmosphere. I know that it is just me. That there is no god, and if one existed, he is not a force in the same way one would refer to as the biblical god. Instead, he'd be a force in the way that electromagnetism is a force, the strong, the weak-- yes, in reality both the strong and the weak survive. God's in the details, but that also doesn't mean that there isn't something else out there, some other forces that defy the conventional explanatory traditions.

Explanatory is extra planetary, these forces exist somehow outside of the planets, and I've been perusing them all of my life. They are immaterial and yet often expressed in that which grows— green, moss and the like and if you like a variety of psychoactive compounds. But what is the mind in all of this? Where does the mind (meaning: that which is produced from the complex interactions of neurons and brain chemicals, and reuptake, and past experience) end, and the tripper begin? So much of this is a matter of scale, at what point does a green goddess exist in a plant-- is she in the molecules, or somehow is there a spiritual connection within the world of chemistry, a spirit molecule (as has been suggested by the still puzzling DMT)?

All of this and more, it seems. Much more. A matter of scale, as I said— that blanket is entirely fuzzy. We just keep picking at it, thumb in mouth, discovering new things. But it's a thick, persistent blanket, and it's not going to yield all of its fuzz so quickly. Take a break, but don't linger to long.

There's the entire universe out there, and you have a responsibility to make it what you want it to be, but to have your will exerted upon the will of others, and the will of the species in collection, and will of the atoms, the subatomic particles, the will of the planet with all its molten rock, breeding-ground oceans, and buildings standing tall. The other planets, and their versions of our things, and our things are there things, and someday we'll know more about that, and we'll wait patiently in line until it becomes a ride at Disneyland. You'll see, you'll find out, everyone gets to go eventually, before they die, if not here-- there. Like I said, you'll see.

But in the world of mankind, and womankind. Between us, brothers and sisters, mothers and fathers, those strong and those weak, and those humbled and those geeked: the bar for human potential has been raised high. Whether in the realm of art and music and writing and movie making and games, to the science of complexity of biology, zoology, cosmology, and chemistry, to the people who are and have been our leaders, to the potential of purely heinous, misguided motions and notions (and I wish I could toast all of them): aspire to meet that bar. Every day. Struggle against the forces that are strong against your weak. It has been done before, it's in the stories of the past, and yes, those forces have persisted, just as the alternate has survived. But we are weak, in the weakest of positions. They will not reveal their neck, they know what happens when they do. From past experience, they have manipulated their and our weaknesses into strengths, they've used the very same pinnacles of human ability to their own purposes, to understand us, and to weed us out early on, to make our numbers few and far between, and to destroy us in their debt, in their honor and horror, and most of all, to destroy us because they know we are right to fight their might.

I keep floating. There are forces working against me, even the forces that are also in battle with the enemy. I must remain vigilant of my surroundings. I suggest you do the same, and if you swing too far out there to where the world ends and the rest of the universe begins, watch for those beacons, follow the trail of sweet-scented smoke. Your body is waiting to take over the world.

{:"(-------< *** >>-------)":}

Log in or register to write something here or to contact authors.