Now I remember.
There was a fleeting moment, a glimpse into myself, a self mirroring. The mind was crunching again notions, facts, happenings and fortunately the Observer was … observing. For each moment remembered there was an “I” until there occurred a realisation – between the “I” and the next “I” it was a translation, a jump, a stretching, a … something… and “I” lost its meaning. To put this into words, hard it is… “I” became a self viewed process, became the ghost outside the shell.
Since then, a shadow of doubt obscures my view, I look, I listen, I perceive .. but is it all the same? I feel like a buoy in an infinite sea, having roots but still too much weight to always stay above the waves. Sun, sea, sky and me. And infinite crossroads. What do I choose? How do I struggle? What is the meaning of the “I”?
A Ghost in the Shell. The name of an animation movie which left me longing and thinking. It had a certain impact on me, a message to receive beyond the actual techno-fantasy it presents. A message about trans-humanity, about an uncertain type of future. The swan song of humanity as we know it.
In the beginning I was floating… No direction, no sense, no feeling. Or was it the beginning?
Then it came. Like a sound. But it was a wave. A ripple in the fabric of my vision. A thundering wave molded from velvet darkness and liquid infinity. It’s progress was reverberating in my soul like the steps of an angel in a deserted hall of stone. Each step has it’s own descending power, each step marks the passing of an age.
After the first wave there was light and rays and halos. Luminous clouds were rolling, chasing the sound, altering the perception, swirling around the center. And sinuous thoughts were taking form, attraction was forming, gravity was taking a hold. In all this time, the observer was observed, the life kept claiming more and more from the nothingness.
So pulled I was. To that and that and that. To feelings, to emotions, to facts and non-facts, to illusions, to forms … Attraction acting as a law, my own blindness acting as a sticky glue, leaving me bound to things without value, to an unrelenting past and a tangled web of petty tyrants.
Step after step, wave after wave, crushing my own illusions I keep walking, I keep trying to return to the inner state of no turmoil, to the point where is no gravity, to the point where I am what I am.
Same old struggle. Me, or what I think Me is…