Stop

It’s all actually empty. It’s all in your head, between your ears and everything you hold so close and celebrate or crave and create – it’s all inside your head, your mind or brain or whatever this experience is, whatever is actually going on there behind your eyes. If you took away all the people, none of this would mean anything at all. The rich, complex culture and world of ideas and language that we all share – this is all absolutely nothing beyond us, without us. And we are nothing without it. That is the spherical enigma and strange curvature of this situation – both ends of the algorithm loop back and mutually untangle themselves into emptiness in this way. There is no anchor.

We play a game with this world we have built, a game of logic and meaning where we project our internal worlds upon the external, where we try to convince ourselves that it all means something beyond us, something necessary and Universal. But it doesn’t, it can’t – and we do not easily accept or acknowledge this because it is unsettling, disturbing; so, we absorb the projected meaning and imaginary world back into ourselves, we adopt it as the core around which we fabricate and create our lives.

I’m really just dreaming-out-loud with strings of words and meanings, made much in the way of origami cranes – meaningless beyond the brief consolation of their own apparent sophistication and aspiration to purpose but once unfolded they reveal themselves as merely being the blank sheets of paper that they always were.

I can never quite find the right words to say these things. I will try again another time.

Move along now…