There is something missing. Everything we build, all of our organisations, our governments, our societies and our selves – there is always something missing. It is an accident of deep cosmological, astronomical, planetary, geological and biological history that we happen to exist here in the way we do, in the forms we express, as the minds with which we think and through the words and diverse cognitive grammars with which we name ourselves, others, things. Now and that for whatever reasons of blind chance or emergent recombinatory inevitability we actually are here, we find ourselves suffering under a critical, foundational illusion and misdirection of identity and existence.

It is never a particularly popular position to assert that someone does not exist, it incurs a reflex of defiance and insecurity. It is, however, quite possible to explain the (very many) ways in which we do not exist without entirely invalidating that experience and nodal centre of self that we are so attached to and entranced by. The core experience and sense or perception of self is real, but the self is not.

It is a symptom of this essential inner emptiness that we find ourselves inhabiting a world in which an anxiety and ignorance regarding identity and personal, tribal and national boundaries is the source of endless fear and conflict. It is also a symptom of this essential void that the one thing that is impossible to capture in all of our language and (perhaps) logic is the non-existence of the central negation around which everything, every definition, every thing, orbits. It is endlessly extensible, discontinuous, enigmatic and mischievously indefinable. And it is beautiful.

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