The complex of simple
The moment between, beyond the present, yet anticipating the aft. Obsessed with the next, the moments beyond, a longing for.. Eschew the digital extensions whose representations are counterfeit to what is seen/heard/smelt/felt as the liminal moments present now, next and indefinite. To capture these momentary flourishes, where time pauses to consider, to ponder, Along The Way.
Self is both triangle and circle. A challenge to define when one considers all things subliminal, unconscious and innate are extensions of self. These things of the mind inform your very existence and influence your physical worldview. They manifest in the things you buy, the way you move, the words you choose to use and the realms in which you choose to exist. Now to complete the orbit, these things in response influence the unconscious in a place some call the soul, a beautiful in between, a place of calm mysticism that ebbs and flows. We teach our children one plus one equals two, simple enough, logical and straightforward. But now consider one plus some is at least one, but an answer further defined is simply not possible. It could be two or two million. The truth then is but a matter of opinion, differing perspectives, changing motives and divergent ideas. Deductively this makes the mind the playground of the heart, the caverns of the soul extend indefinitely deeper than the darkest night, able to disconnect from what is, though not connect to what will be. In the mind’s eye it is perfectly reasonable to reverse hierarchy, question continuity and dislocate the established structural pillars of life. At a young age we also teach our children to apply logic and to justify with knowledge. Ideas of obvious merit, but adopted at cost to the imagination. In this day and age it must become clear that the physical and spiritual worlds are intertwined; cut just one strand of twine and the weave falls apart. Now separate it completely and self is a mess, identity unknown. A teacher once showed me an ice cream cone and instructed me to find its volume. Clearly overwhelmed by the perceived magnitude of the task at hand, as I tried to over-think the situation in a narrow-minded haste, she suggested I break the cone down into its two-dimensional parts. This then leads to the euphoria of conquering geometry itself. A cone is as much a circle as it is a triangle; yet at the same time it is neither. The whole truth is desired but not needed. Understanding your interpretations of truth as they apply to the physical and emotional is of the utmost. If one perspective is a facet of truth, many angles reveal many facets of the same truths. This intermediate space is where self lives. A man possessed by two distinct identities struggles to make sense of the truth.
My feet touch the cold tiles as the warm sun rises and flickers on. My toes immerse in grains of velvet sand; the sea beckons me, “come.” Gusts run as far as the eye can see, launching ever higher off the waves, reaching for the skies. The ceiling fan breaks the silence as its blades buffet the air, whisking it up into the unknown abyss. It is this sound that resonates incessantly in this confined prism where the sound of buffeting bounces back and forth. Is there anything more expansive than the oceans? With the same switch that whipped the air into a tempest, a bulb brings forth light, but it is cold and weak. The flicker of the sun, now solid, is warm and strong; it soothes the soul like only the sun can. What value then can be placed on the watts of the sun bulb? I now step into the shower, its head but centimetres from my eyes as I turn the two silver taps, identical but for their coloured caps. I do not see them yet, but the waves will come with the sound of turbulent water coursing through copper pipes. Every second repeats, as all motion slows to a crawl. The birds are quiet as the droplets now fall silently to the floor. A large wave, immense and imposing, looms overhead. Can the fabric of time stretch this far and not sever? Here the impending barrage of water droplets from the showerhead forces the mind, conscious and subconscious into overdrive.
The body instinctively braces itself for the unknown, it prepares for what it hopes will be and accepts what it hopes not for. As water begins to flow from the showerhead, the wave breaks and draws close. The smell of frothing sea salt fills the air. The skin shivers in excitement, muscles tense and brace for impact as the arms protect the soul of the body. With haste the lungs rapidly expand before the mouth shuts tight and the nostrils contract. In the instant before the water caresses the face, the eyes they shut instantly tight with anticipation. The world is now dark; I am at the mercy of the waves and the forces of the sea will have their way. In time the water will envelop and disorient me. Up will soon be down and gravity will lighten. But not yet, not in this moment, in this moment I am between worlds, everything is true, violence is peaceful, I am euphorically elated in the complex of simple.