Sunflower

About me:

THE FORGOTTEN SELF Carl Jung It has been said the world is illusion. So much so, that even that phrase creates a false impression. Progress is measured by conceptual thought, ideas, logical structures and hierarchies of intellect that conceal our inner split as we exist in this realm swimming in reflections instead of the source from which they derive. As these spiral further outward into the distance, we operate further and further in this realm of echoes, distortions, ghosts, thoughts in midair: which we declare as reality with every ounce of our being. We defend this stance; insist that there is nothing besides that which we create in our minds. Never mind the man behind the curtain, even if the man is in actuality you. It's more sublime to analyze, to think, to bury our fears, desires, vulnerabilities, anything that moves us: those unwanted nuances that interfere with the neatly and logically woven structure of thought that is our lullaby. The false has been defined as the real, the idea of experience substituted for experience itself, and we have fallen into this trap because our natures respond in cue. As recollection comes and perception sets in, as we become affected by insight and experience that does not fit into a created mental schema adopted and personalized, we push it away. In so doing, we reject the very thing that we are. When our world is wrapped in the hypothetical, in theory, coming into contact with a measure of reality is as startling as running into an object in the dark. In our darkness, we run in fear of that which is not clear, to the safety of the imitation we've come to accept through repetition, reinforcement and denial. Should any person or any thing remind us of what stirs in our depths, we reject them as well. Fear rules like a tyrant, fear of our vulnerability, fear of its experience, fear of its expression, fear of its rejection, fear of the unknown and the fragile that haunts. So we create layers of mental realms as a safe haven. We classify, we measure, we observe and calculate without participation - we distract ourselves making sure our attention is constantly occupied by all that surrounds us. From the astounding magnitude of the universe in its frightening glory, to the wonders that modern machinery can spit out, we are smitten and hypnotized in this outward movement away from our depths. In this surface we live our lives - split off from a sense of real empathy, real emotions, as our vulnerability frightens us and we run from it like children afraid of the dark. Incapable of creating connections through our humanity, we connect with a sequence of ideas so as to further distance ourselves. Points of uncertainty within are regarded as the hated weakness that threatens to destroy the flawless mask we've crafted so carefully. Intuition replaced by intuitive software, intuitive cars, and intuitive cell phones all arrived at through studies of outward automatic behavioral tendencies which indicate that all we are is a series of reactions to external stimuli. The cognitive, the behavioral, the surface manifestation that can be measured and manipulated has taken the place of our totality. We surgically detach ourselves from our humanity, we quiet and numb symptoms of our essence that has no place in a manufactured existence. We hush ourselves back to sleep. What cannot be measured through the methods of science, through logical structures, through intellectual boundaries becomes discarded, unimportant, nonexistent, not fitting of a preconceived equation. We are the methodology bound by hypothesis that defines the box we are contained in, our sight constantly reaching outward without a conception of its borders or its contents. Somehow this is supposed to make sense that we can think outside of the box that we do not even perceive.