It is often simpler to love the unknown and the unknowable; a perfect enigma and unsolved mystery represents the endless seduction of a treasure that hovers playfully, eternally just out of reach and in pursuit of which we might build a whole personality, culture and civilisation.  How often do we choose a distant fantasy over a proximate reality and just how much simpler is it to orient our aspirations and dreams towards an impossible goal?

That distance and difference through which we reflexively define and (simultaneously) discover ourselves is always relative to that fantastic dream.  It is the cognitive (and the cultural) space that we inhabit, the labyrinth of memory we construct, and the life that we build in which the price of continuity, meaning and purpose is always the unattainability of our dream.

It is a beautiful emptiness, this paradox of self-construction but at it’s own heart we find a wisdom of just why so many human relationships fail; it is because – at some unwitting and unconscious level – we need them to.  We seek in the Other a completeness which at some deep and precognitive level we know can never exist and rather than dive into the disturbing dark ocean of that (particular) deep wisdom, we spend our lives paddling in the safe shallows of superficial, self-delusional fantasy and complex self-deception.

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