nonsense.

Sometimes I just want to not mean anything. Not in a metaphysical sense of being, but in terms of expressing myself written or verbally. There is a great deal to be conscious of when you are expressing yourself. At times, these restrictions surround you like a cage. Syntax, grammar, intonation, posture..the list goes on and the walls around you can grow thicker. When you see no way out of this cage, your first reaction is to counteract it with the opposite behavior: nonsense.

Nonsense has always been an activity I take a great deal of pleasure engaging in. It takes the pressure off of existing a certain way. Nonsense kindly and softly places you out of the confines of rule and order into a state of padded bliss. Perhaps it's an innate comfort knowing that your words and actions cannot be criticized in any other way than 'kooky' or 'bizarre'. To lash out in nonsense is the most passive form of beating you can lay on someone. It's sonic sadomasochism less the whips and chains. The restrictions of language are critically important since they keep a method of expression accessible and universal. The point of this foray into my dull grasp on linguistics is not to pay credence to order but to let chaos out of the cage for a bit and glorify it.

If we weren't raised from a young age to learn the concepts of form and function, we would be walking around aimlessly as if there were endless loops of cartoon music repeating in our heads. This is the closest I can come to telling you how I feel on a daily basis. It's a great deal of fun, but Order comes along every few hours and smacks the whip down on me hard. What I find interesting is that even in cases where there were children found who were not raised with any formal language, they still showed some form of universal grammar. This leads me to infer that there is a heavy anchor in our biological evolution that wants to express some form of order to our thoughts. Is it just seen as order because of the way we choose to see it? Probably not. It's the mental equivalent of symmetry in nature.

Symmetry is an example of nature wanting to show its part in turning chaos into order. The only difference is there is no brain or mind behind the tendency towards order on a molecular structure basis. Take a real close look at a snowflake or a leaf the next time your are outside -- would you say it borders more on the side of order or chaos in its organizational schemata? Then pick up a rock and take a look at it; it will seem a lot less more 'ordered' than the snowflake or leaf since it's order lies where the naked eye cannot peer. Order is more readily apparent in a diamond than a slab or marble. Why? Ask me later.

I can merge back on topic now that we've taken form and function outside of the human mind and viewed it from the perspective of the natural world. Grammar is the mind's manifestation of placing molecules in a specific place in order to create a stronger sense or meaning. Water can mean many things on a molecular level depending on the stimulus it is subject into. Water in a freezer will create an order as it changes state into a crystallized ice cube. Throw anger into the word 'fuck' and you will get a different reaction than if you said it as a small suggestion to your lover while having your pants down at your ankles. We make the decision on what we intend a word to mean..but who makes the decision into what state a mindless form of matter is to be?

This is where I usually draw the line as thinking about infinity can give you vertigo. We live to express some form of order, but all of life's burning answers lie in chaos. It makes sense. Everything on this planet that requires an outcome takes work. Nonsense is nature's way of telling us it's ok to be asymmetrical from time to time. It's nice to cheat every once and awhile a lose yourself (and others) in gibberish. Besides, in my life I have found people that understand my nonsense, ironically. Deep down there is always a fundamental truth to nonsense -- some people who you share a deep chemistry with can pick up those truths.

fate is gravity felt. [lunar eclipse]

I looked up,
my eyes were pulled
towards the sky

the moon
blinked out of existence

a celestial body
taking its sabbath

I yawned for the moon




we all get our chance
to live in the shadows

sometimes it's not by choice,

fate is gravity felt
and tends to pull us

in and out
of
light
&
shadow

consciousness from the divergent perspective.

picture one grain of sand on a beach.
this grain of sand is responsible for overlooking all of the others.
each grain appears the same to the naked eye
but in reality varies greatly under the scrutiny of an eye behind a microscope.

if this one grain of sand is to be the source for all singularity -- the house of active consciousness and the soul -- then the purpose of the other grains are to be passive observers.

if we are to successfully study consciousness, how can we expect to find the answer in observing ourselves observing ourselves? if the one grain of sand is the singular ultimate observer than who is observing the observer?

consciousness really is like a set of footprints on the beach trying to retrace themselves.

it's a paradox that is difficult to overcome even when trying to employ analogies. it leads me to believe that cartesian materialism is flawed. it's highly unlikely that the processing of sensory information happens in one specific place in the brain.


instead of taking the 'one grain of sand approach', perhaps consciousness occurs more along the lines of the people who attend the beach, not the grains of sand themselves. the people who attend the beach have personal agenda's -- which could be equated with the bodies separate senses. each sense reaches the brain at different times and is therefore 'moved' or processed at different times. this means that consciousness can no longer be seen as a singularity but a culmination of sensory experiences that move along a busy highway that is constantly moving. the mazda (smell) will reach it's turn off quicker than the BMW (sight). this doesn't necessarily mean that they must share the same end point. no 'observer' has to watch over each vehicle and their destinations for events to occur.

to think about consciousness as a divergent process rather than convergent one (cartesian theatre) will do us much justice into furthering understanding it. converging sensory experiences just leads us to pigeon hole ourselves into paradox. to think about consciousness in the first place is the first step towards failure since it entails us thinking about ourselves thinking. this is the convergent rabbit hole. the fact that consciousness is a time based phenomenon, implies that every experience we had would have to end up in the same place at the same time (when the light hit the movie screen) and this is an unrealistic ideal. the divergent view implies that experiences are internalized after perception and 'merge' onto the superhighway of neurons in our brain destined for specific places (occipital, temporal, frontal centers etc.) this means that conscious experience can happen more freely within the time matrix.

the view that all brain centres must coalesce into one singular experience is a dated perspective. reductionism has led us to look for answers in the wrong places.
what we experience as the outside world lies the short end of a funnel, and at the other end, the mind receives the large end. the mind is a large canvas on it's own and is continually being splashed with existence and time is what continually clears the canvas readying it for new experiences.

Cartesian theatre.

you are in the third act
of your own tragedy

the audience is
quite dead
with emotion

they have been
since the box office
chained up and blocked off
the doors

sticky stale soda
immobilize their feet
pinning them to floor


the lights are dim,
there is a deep
crimson haze
to the drapery


gothic sound
bleeding echoes
bounce off the walls
from a haunting past lament


in this Cartesian theatre--

your mind,
don't let it become a coffin
forever immortalizing what was

.

jump off of the stage
run to the projector room
and kindly ask the homunculus

to step down
as you shout your elegy

to the last film

and give way to the new

future presentation

humanheart.

poetry is a heart imagining,

love is the silence

between the beats

while the heart sleeps

the universe is breathing.

gravity

is the word for love

for gigantic planetary bodies

falling into the soft sheets in the bed of space-time

with trust and constancy


gravity

is the word for home

in love

always finding its way back to the centre of the humanheart


the beating of the heart
the rhythm of orbits

and the respiration
in which my love
for you resides

is God gently breathing
as he works us in

tigerblood. scenes from a car accident.

blood trickled slowly out of his nose as he slowly came to

bleeding out of his nose -- a tiger

his demon. his passion.

he is now safe from it clawing at his mind

eating him raw from the inside.

cleaving.

it took this event for him to realize that grace had been hiding in his mind the entire time

a man is only as strong as his will at the darkest of moments

when he is on his knees in tears he is struggling to find God

because God may be the only one who can know 'why?'



/it is at these moments when he is close to death

that he is living the most\




grace tames the tiger.

the tiger within a man -- his Will

is a duality that must be controlled

since it's demeanor is naturally indifferent

it could strike

at any time

falls.

the falls.

i always
thought of major intersections
as analogous to waterfalls

thousands of people tumbling
coming from all different directions
streaming
different currents
side streets emptying into a large reservoir

we have learned to tame chaos
with the colors green, yellow and red

the waterfalls
shine a rainbow
--a prismatic traffic light
to tame chaos

although many master the ability to defy man made law
the greatest geniuses still struggle to defy natural law

we are all governed by one principle

gravity.

the humanheart is gravity to the individual
keeping him or her grounded
weighed down
home.

the conscience is our flotation device
at times we lose this and start to sink (drown)

it takes water filled lungs
to build a strong moral fiber to keep us float (build a strong boat)

each molecule of water
exists in its own separate unique space

but it's comprised of the very same chemical ingredients as the others
the uniqueness is born in it's intent, not it's chemical makeup
its non deterministic fate is driven by cosmic chance

instead of the pounding of water and mist over the jagged rocks
and seagulls mocking the menacing beauty of the waterfall from above,
we pound the pavement with tonnes steel and rubber
with the occasional gawk from car horns
we sit with pride behind the wheels of our vehicles
while our mist is emitted from mufflers as carbon mist

.

every time i sail out of a side street into a
thunderous intersection

i look twice
and then twice again

then i look at myself look twice

before i jump

i survive every time




.

\\\\