Is it we who seek balance through conversation, through language and an endless aspiration towards resolutions that seem to forever fade away into uncertainty and unknowing? Or is it in some profoundly unacknowledged, unacknowledgable way a language and the autonomously self-propagating patterns of cognition and communication or culture that we inhabit that are actually seeking their own uncertain resolution of self replication and fallible truth in which we are less active agents, more passive transmission medium for words and idioms and symbols?
Even as we unveil our “truth”, we create it, generate it and become so powerlessly, helplessly obsessed by it. There, intoxicated by our own assertions of self-importance (or at the very least – of an existence self-reflexively mirrored in language), we are led to believe that we are real, true and embody an everlasting continuity or certainty of individuation.
It is a lie. Actually – it is the lie that in telling itself (through us) acquires mass, gravity and subjective, contingent truth. We spend our lives seeking to fill this vessel we create with a reality and substance which is just as transient and ultimately fictional as the vessel (of self) is.
This is the infinite and open-ended adaptive game of enigma and existential confusion that information (as language) plays through us, as us.