Creative writing and artful observations

[Magical Realist]

More ruminations on the mirror metaphor..

We seem by all accounts and based on our immediate observations to be totally contained inside a physical reality. Everything appears to us as 3D reflections of light off of matter. The trees, the cars, the buildings, the clouds, other people-- even our own bodies. Just free-floating discrete apparitions existing as if they are not being reflected to anyone at all. But we are more than this. Much more!

Spacetime is a 3D mirror thru which we can see and walk around everything as if it were real in itself. It is not. How could it be? To be pre-manifested without manifesting TO someone? Impossible. What is required is the roaming gaze of someone standing outside the mirror of spacetime, just as experiencing ourselves in a flat 2D mirror requires our observing it from an outside 3D standpoint.

Being mere 3D reflections assumes a higher dimensional being outside of our mirror world viewing it AS a 3D reflection. Our higher dimensional consciousness is not inside the mirror as our bodies are. It is beyond the mirroring spacetime. It cannot be conceived of from inside the mirror any more than a 2D reflection can conceive of the "outsideness" of the 3D consciousness observing it.

From our bodies' perspective, there is only being inside the mirror reality penetrating and surrounding us on all sides. This is our physiocentric perspective. But in fact there is only ever a viewing of this reality as if being gazed upon from everywhere and nowhere at once--from a roaming standpoint outside spacetime. This omniscient/omnipresent consciousness that experiences all the reflections of our physical reality at once from a hyperdimensional plane THRU spacetime makes possible and phenomenally real the mirror world we are physically inside of. It is nowhere to be found inside it and is not inside our 3D reflection bodies or brains anymore than you are really inside your reflection when looking into a 2D mirror. If a 3D reflection body took apart the other reflections around it, even another reflection's brains and tissues and molecules and atoms, it would only ever find just more reflections and never anything real in itself. Just as scientists only ever find more and more physical things inside of the matter of the physical world.

It is not an illusion that we are all 3D reflections living inside a mirror world. What IS illusion is that this is all that is..that there is nothing beyond physical reality and no such thing as an observer seeing it all from outside of it. That our world subsists independently and in itself without the need of appearing to anyone as such.

But there is a silent observer on the other side of the mirror of spacetime looking into it, feeling itself part of the mirror reality that only ever exists as real from its perspective outside of spacetime. Hence we are projecting ourselves as third person physical bodies in a third person physical world from the unflinching gaze of our true first person transphysical selves. Consciousness is on the other side of the mirror of spacetime, existing and expressing itself as if it doesn't exist to everything and everyone inside the mirror world.
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This is simply amazing!!! Just as I completed this reverie, I get on FB and lo and behold watch this random news feed video of this guy Daryl Anka who supposedly channels an ET being called Bashar. One could not PLAN a more perfect and synchronistic affirmation of my thesis! The Universe unmistakably speaks thru metaphors!

https://www.facebook.com/reel/1138038784249654

[Magical Realist]

There is an observable tendency for the events of our lives to interconnect meaningfully somehow--either poetically or ironically or serendipitously or synchronistically. If we are attentive enough we can see this happening in our own experience. One thought suggests a sudden realization . One mishap insinuates a storybook fable. One news story evokes a memory of an acquaintance from long ago. We are constantly being prompted, reminded, urged and seduced by these little unexpected alignments of seeming chance.

And all of this ongoing interrelatedness, this bristling potentiality for fresh hyperlinkages and truly Joycean cohesion, is beyond just sequential physical cause and effect or even logic itself. It is going on as if from the omniperspective of being outside of time and space where every event is happening at the same time--- what is called in physics "entanglement" and what is called in mysticism "epiphany."

The universe it seems is an infinitely creative search engine lodged in eternity that runs on apt metaphors and provocative clues and promising allusions. We all wander about lost inside a vast dictionary world that is wittily and teasingly always cross referencing itself. Doors are opening around us. Voices are overheard from open windows. Slyly and not without a tinge of playful humor it keeps us engaged and intrigued that there is something more to our lives than just the random or arbitrary edicts of fate and that maybe, just maybe, our meaningful "being here" is not entirely up to us.

[Magical Realist]

Creative thinking is not resolute on solving any problems. It rarely offers up any handy or practical solutions. It resolves no paradoxes or contradictions. It settles no tribal squabbles. Rather, it permeates and dissolves all boundaries and dogmatic definitions, itself the acidic solution in which all our traditional Aristotelean demarcations are melted away and all opposites are paired together again. To think creatively is to think fluidly, eventually eroding away our set-in-stone beliefs and ingrained assumptions and pet theories. It transmutes our partitioning and incisive logic into the coalescence and lived understanding of the underlying connectedness of everything.

[Magical Realist]

My older brother used to beat me up alot when we were kids. It made me tougher I think. But it also made me more conniving. Once I found a pkg of smelling salt in my dad's old military kit in our attic. I promptly broke it open and shoved it into my brother's face. He cried it smelled so bad. I was delightfully surprised. Nothing was off the table at that point.

[Magical Realist]

There is always some kind of squiggly visual commotion on the brink of things..some sort of airy abiogenesis going on at the crisp edge between light and darkness. Liminality is the charged up zone where all opposites touch, the effusively fertile threshold between what is and what isn't. Life is a property of empty space.

[Magical Realist]

I miss the early days of being the family nerd---when I was the only one who knew what google was, and it only meant one with a hundred zeroes.

[Magical Realist]

In this age of ubiquitous hyperconnectivity and frantic tracking of everyone and anything at any time, the sheer peace and solace of perfect isolation comes as a welcome relief. But I predict that the time will come when being alone for its own sake will be considered taboo if not borderline pathological. FOMO will have acquired a whole new level of control over our lives. Texting on the toilet at 3 AM will become a national past time. The right to privacy a relic of the past. And the majority of us will not mind a bit.

[Magical Realist]

"I know a few things to be true. I do not know where I am going, where I have come from is disappearing, I am unwelcome and my beauty is not beauty here. My body is burning with the shame of not belonging, my body is longing. I am the sin of memory and the absence of memory. I watch the news and my mouth becomes a sink full of blood. The lines, the forms, the people at the desks, the calling cards, the immigration officers, the looks on the street, the cold settling deep into my bones, the English classes at night, the distance I am from home. But Alhamdulilah all of this is better than the scent of a woman completely on fire, or a truckload of men, who look like my father pulling out my teeth and nails, or fourteen men between my legs, or a gun, or a promise, or a lie, or his name, or his manhood in my mouth.”
― Warsan Shire, Teaching My Mother How to Give Birth

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[Magical Realist]

Turbulence is one of those unpredictable quirks of flying that petrifies me. During turbulence I hunker down into a whimpering ball of praying flesh, temporarily overlooking the fact that I'm agnostic--turbulence being one of those triggering events that calls into question the whole premise of flying 600 mph at 30,000 feet in a 220 ton metal tube crammed with 150 impatient strangers.

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[confused2]

I asked an AI to help celebrate my rat+ status..

In shadows they scurry, with whiskers so fine,
Little furballs of chaos, in corners they dine.
With beady eyes glimmering, they dance through the night,
Bringing joy to the heart, what a curious sight.

Oh, the diseases they carry, a gift from the street,
From leptospirosis to the plague, oh so sweet!
A symphony of germs, a health hazard spree,
Who knew such small creatures could bring such glee?

So here's to the rats, with their mischief and flair,
In the grand scheme of life, they’re a breath of fresh air.
Embrace the infestation, let the chaos unfold,
For in every little rat, there’s a story untold...

Edit.. the AI did suggest seeking expert help .. without making clear for what or who (whom?),