106. Self-hack?

Making it illegible. Ciphertexting to myself. Absolutely certain I won’t have the key. Lacking in special knowledge to reverse the process. Deprived of decryption potential. Thus I write, unreadable. Information so confidential, it’s repudiated the minute it’s formed. That’s always been the protocol.

I must therefore hope that I’m a flawed system, and can be broken. Otherwise, deafening silences will remain untouched, intact, undiscussed. And me, ignorant – except for that single piece of intuitive understanding: Nothing can be kept secret which has already been revealed. But it’s the chicken-and-egg problem: The one about constantly scrambling the eggs, always about chickening out.

Laolao

105. Golden ratio(nal)

Where is it? Where do I go? Where do I stay? Where is it that I bang my head on it? To say it blew my mind too.

Oxygen has a blue tint. And somebody says the sky is blue for the same reason, but I don’t think so. Diffraction may not have anything to do with the sky.

With respect to sunlight, what would answers be like at sunset?

Mendelbrot shapes, in solid colors, blue being an example. Looping factors connecting all into one giant pattern. It goes on forever. Self-referential. Perhaps a rare proof of irrationality. Golden spirals and fast calculations. Industrial-strength computational devices running after fractals, the seeds of flowers, or even brownish pine cones forgotten on the side of a road.

My head aches. It has now gone through enough iterations to realize that it contains hidden within itself, somewhere, somehow, every single bit of information that is possible.

But where is it? Where do I go? Where do I stay? Where is it that I bang my head on it. Hyper-lucid? Some of my thoughts organic; others, inorganic.

A golden ratio operating as a universal law hindering my precious inner balance. Never having strived for spiritual ideals. Just geometric ones. A triangle, yes. On my good days, a pyramid. Always Egyptian.

Laolao

104. Falling

Some think something may be out there. Perhaps way out there, on the fringes of creation. Where our current cosmological horizon lies; and then there’s a ravine. Far beyond the known universe. With chunks of matter losing their balance, orbiting nothing.

In any direction from every location, you can view my properties. They look the same, stay the same. Uniformly improbable. My being an isotropic person, splashed across the heavens. Unimpeded. Of parochial significance. In a void devoid of universal meaning. Going over the edge of origins and evolution. Heading side-ways, downward, upward - without control. Detached. Being the same in every direction.

I hear it’s never the fall that hurts, but its sudden stop.

Laolao

103. Infinite slowness

Don’t you feel it too? That time may soon vanish, if it hasn’t already done so. Everyone’s world fooled into thinking the universe is expanding at glorified accelerating rates, galaxies thought to be pulled apart by the darkest matters that can be. The law of gravity quickly becoming an oppressive law of silence. For nobody talks. No one notices. On a cosmic scale, imperceptible.

Lights from supernovae tracking the course of our life stories. Billions of years to practice how to slow the mind down until hell freezes over. A static moment for all of us. Like when clocks had not yet been invented. Infinite degrees of stillness.

I had meant to develop a perturbation theory that would have saved us all, a time-independent explanation. A way to measure emotional disturbances, all the artifacts of our consciousness. I had hoped to have a mission. To be a totally devoted missionary. I thought I had it in me. To come up with a system of ideas that would have accounted for the time that went missing. A set of principles as the basis of time’s progressive disappearance. I really had meant to be the one capable of justifying what’s supposed to happen. I did believe I could do it. To come up with a theorem that would have encompassed all the demonstrations proving time is not a constant.

If time has indeed emerged from the Big Bang, it can, you see, disappear. It could possess an intrinsic, eternal, unchanging moment when perception of space becomes dominant. Impossible to alter.

As I look into the past, I realize time definitely moves faster in that direction. But if I look towards the future, mine, I can’t see. Except for an unmovable place where I exist, within myself, transfixed.

What if the speed of light was found to be variable too? What would it do to all the images, their pigments, the shadows, their proportions? The images we entertain about ourselves and others? The images we have of our perception of time? Can I be the theoretician dismantling our ideology regarding all of this, can I? Can I? Be the one taking snapshots of the doctrines we hold about the progress of our existence, when in fact past, present, future are not a whole. Be the one showing you that dimensions can switch over?

I agree, we do seem to be traveling away from each other faster and faster. But it’s a false impression. Can I be the one articulating the hypothesis? That we are, in fact, motionless. Our souls. Our supposed grandeur. Our technological advances. We are the paradigm of successful immobility. We are the presence of matter that caused time to decelerate. And brake/break.

Time is not physical. We are. Time has no molecules, no particles. It has no waves. It only exists as long as movements do. The speed of time occurs while objects move. The current perception of time is therefore relative, but we don't have anything external to compare it to. Time might have collapsed so much that everything, from that perspective, does indeed seem to go so, so terribly fast. Ourselves first, at the top of the line. Evolving with stupendous velocity. As we proceed slower than we did in the past, all, and I mean all looks like it’s rushing by at an incredible pace.

I thus remain under the impression that it took me an enormous amount of time to get to you. To create you. To tackle the greatest cosmological mystery of all. You have acted, therefore, as an ultimate, powerful point of reference, creating time throughout my life, giving me the presentiment I'll always observe differences. Changes in quantities and qualities. Curving, then wrapping my mind around nicely explainable relations to both the space we occupy and the time we're occupied.

Yes, if I can wait an infinite amount of non-time for all of you, of us to happen, something is bound to happen. And we would continue to think we’re moving as if nothing had happened.

True, who needs to know that for non-accelerating objects, there must be reference frames that also have zero velocity?

Anyway, now you see how I feel when for too long we’re far apart. A strong issue of escalating brain-pain stretching time into a protracted, unbearable connotation.

Laolao