Fragments of thought about layers of memory of a present.

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The moment we realize that there is a present, it turns into past. So is our present a universe shaped by formations of memories, ours, those of others? Are we constantly shuffling around what we remember and does this make us blind for the world around us? Will the future be a present shaped from our memory gathering process? (Yes, dear anonymous... let's start with your comment... or a version...) Can we see the present? Here it was, just became replaced by the next present... and the next... could what we would like to pinpoint as a present just the process of current events becoming past, filled with the anticipation of things to come. (And in our jumpy, ballistic minds also a string of relevant events, glimpses of relevance, memory triggers.) We very often see the present as a confirmation of all of our learned experiences. It is rarely that we actually realize that there is a stream of new and pure time flowing through us, completely, aging every cell in our bodies, transforming us back into the planet. The moment we are born, we are destined to die. We might be the only species here that has the ability to express this awareness of finality common to each and every one of us. Culture is a way for us to help forget that we are so very incredibly mortal. We are constantly moving... ahead, backwards, sideways, in memories surrounding us, lika a cloud, a bubble... some of them personal, some of them collective... Based on these memories, on these preprogrammed filters for our world experience, we base the way we see the world... We need mutations in perception, from time to time, to wash clean our eyes, to extend the horizon, to revisit, to redefine... to help see again... Art is supposed to help here... but it is also man made, part of culture, the shy attempt to overcome mortality... so much of it just grasps to what is there, bases itself on what "works" not what might open new paths, avenues, or maybe old ones, those that have been closed because they did not fit in an image that might have been somehow correct in a mind? in a time? is it now? layers upon layers upon layers upon layers, moving...

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Cosmic organic motion, putting a marble on a desk and ask anyone if it is moving? Since the earth is hurtling through space it is of couse moving, but moving in relation to what? Any way why am I barking up this tree, the relationship between movement and time? What do I want to feel about it? You are what you know yourself to be right now but there is always more to you than you are aware of. Not some fancy of my imagination but discovery waiting to be found like a toddler playing hide and go seek.

things we think we know
things we think we do not know yet
things we do not know
things we do not know we do not know
things don't know
no things
nothings know
nothings we know we do not know

and so on?...

it is a bit like flatland... except that it is... well, at least we think it is not... hmm...

Flatland my ass.. Well I'm standing next to a mountain.. Chop it down with the edge of my hand.
Well I'm Standing next to a Mountain Chop it down
with the edge of my hand. Pick up all the pieces and make an Island, might even raise a little sand.....

Rumsfield would be proud...

Yes, Rumsfield would be really proud. What I meant was, of course the book "Flatland", the one dealing with a world inhabited with creatures not aware of a third dimension.
It will be nice once we get Fritz and the others (who are all the same person) out of anonymity. (It must be a bit scary there.)

Rumsfeld would be proud of Jimi Hendrix and VooDoo CHild? I think not. Anyways my time here is finished I have a train to catch to that extra dimension you talked about.

Well, Fritz, thanks again. Hope you enjoyed the ride. ; )
(I knew I missed yet another reference...)
; )

Yeah. Too much Iron Maiden, Witold?

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This page contains a single entry by Witold published on February 11, 2004 12:58 PM.

The perfect tea... was the previous entry in this blog.

Invisible flight... is the next entry in this blog.

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