Thoughts on the nature of this post-actualized, collectively (de)constructed “spectre” called reality.
Please draw your attention to humanity’s ironic counterintuitive obsession with positivistic empiricism and reductionism, from which we expect to discover macro-level Truth that will provide meaning or direction.
Reality is a reflexive process of grinding potentialities of uncertainty, the lovemaking of probabilities. It is not a meaningfully articulable monogamous actuality.
In my many travels through Liminal Xond, Terrarium, and Cloistersirshire, I have come to realize that the hallucinations of universal chastity are deliberate obfuscation of the permeability (and primary emptiness) of all matter; it is the patareal actuality of the absurd bumping and grinding of assorted quanta that generates the illusion that there is certainty or solidity anywhere.
The quanta are total freaks btw,: they never really stop their amorous contacts, preferring to tunnel through dimensions of void, endlessly connected to multiple partners. At least until probabilistic potentialities and/or (semi) conscious observers cause them to wink out of existence, or begin doing the wave.
Neither scenario sounds pleasant, or fair, to the quanta – who one must suppose are/were/will be as collectively (sub) conscious as anything they conspire to manifest – including homo sapiens. As such, it seems cruel to observe them at all, as it drastically disrupts their dating opportunities. (Looking at you CERN: nobody likes a peeping Tom)
But enough of the Platonic Symposium of quantum forms, this is about what’s meaningfully real. Considering that the desk I write upon is actually mostly empty space between electrons and their nuclei, it’s reasonable to assume that very little of what we perceive is real, or even resembles a wished for actual objective existence. Because if it is true(ish) that the universe is conscious, then we are left without objectivity at all – just endless constructions of pseudo subjectivities entangled with one another. Is this universe aware of its mutiversal neighbors, or is it trapped in some solipsistic trance, a cosmic Narcissus enraptured by its own singularity?
Therefore I conclude that it is paradoxically necessary to revel in my lack of true individuality, or even free will, as well as the ultimate injustice of universal absurdity, by wallowing in the surreal inks that come oozing out from the displacement of us – illusory and entangled particle arrangements that we are. I do this, you must now understand, to avoid meaningless self-patathetic wallowing, or a descent into the realm of certain hypocritical nihilisms and cosmic pessimisms. The universe doesn’t care – and that is fucking awesome!
(Shortly after putting these thoughts to paper, a solution of sorts entered my orbit by way of that strange process called synchronicity:)
You, in your ordinariness, who won the cosmic game of chance and were allowed to exist for this brief period of time.Wyntre (2018). The Great Cosmos in The Bible of Cthulhu. (107-114)
…you need to realize that there are countless ghosts who will never be born, who are doomed to their eternal Void, who will never ever see the light of day, will never hope or laugh or cry, will never have the chance to dance in the light and to dream and to be.
The Darkness holds them eternally.
It is from The Darkness (The Void) you were born and to The Darkness you will return.
The only thing that matters is the time you spend fulfilling The Work in between, because it is you who was allowed to have that time.
What an insult it is to be scared.
What an insult to not achieve your potential.
What a mockery it would be to not live exactly as you wish!
Revel in the light. Strive to be whoever you want to be. Be grateful to the cosmos for allowing you this time to see it all. It is a gift, everything, every experience you have ever had was a gift, for it is you and you alone who were granted it.
Nothing you ever do will matter, and thus it is incredibly important that you do it.
Because the others didn’t have the chance.