Our Virtual Dark Woods

When one is free of the apparently real restrictions of physics as we know it, we can just imagine a wider world of undreamed of light as well as a prison holding the torch strait on the path through dark woods against the unknown evil that may be there in the nothingness if we stray from the path.

We cling to the light and fire that guides us, its warmth against the cold and its power to reflect unseen eyes that may stalk us. We are at a center or vortex or bundle of things of which the pieces or sticks may be claimed and the small things may undermine the unity of things bundled together. Our inner world betrays us as much as the decay we find as we progress in the outer world to which we keep a blindness for the sake of archetypal sleep that our center is fixed in motion or the path is direct as if a river or boulevard reaching to the distance lined with elm and oak to some infinitely distant (we think) point of perspective.

In the artwork posted above I emphasize the darkness as if a virtual vortex from any one of our viewpoints- we are so different absolutely and yet somehow one being depending on how we look at it. The old circle and line describing a minimal flat space, the old laws of what perseveres the angles or areas of stylized mathematical assertions. As we walk along the boulevard each bend in its river is all of it and we do not think of the ultimate source or the end- so far into the perspective to the ideal points at infinity, along the way, the place is the same, the oak trees shrink in the distance past and present, we are in some place, a mystical place that is as opaque as our Father the same world and vague concept as Heaven- yet such a heaven is theoretically possible still in how we mentally and physically progress in this world. The native Americans regarded only their part of the river as their realm- more like an oxbow lake. We strive in our narrow visions.

We cling to our path in the darkness through the woods and praise the fire and light and panic when the light goes out or the ground itself seems to shift and vanish as well our sense of self. We teach the gospel of light as physics and insist, especially as we learn things and get proficient, as if we can implant to another some idea into another beyond the due respect for the journey and love for the wisdom and yet in reducing things we in our denial of great new possibilities even beyond the sociological view of things we cannot see our strait path in the darkness but more than one of narrow vision.

One day, if we admit our lack of training or discovery on our own, some big picture we will come to realize, and yes cherish our lesser incarnations. Between us as the native Americans the denizens of the forest, say the bears, are just another form of life of which we are a diverse part of our spirit animals. Of a wider group of beasts in the wild of which we think now we but part of such fauna or the myth of them I speak beyond the spirits of the air, beyond our narrow ability to describe what is the meaning and the self and soul of each one of us if we so desire to look.

Of physics I speak of the symbol of such a place, the laurels, of perfection to which it seems we touch such a heaven of boundless time and space on earth as if this free gift of creation unfolds unto us before that moment of awakening as if a horn of plenty to which we are not always amazed and grateful enough for this life.

Or alternatively beyond the absolute death, the skull and crossbones where even death itself vanishes- and just before that the descent into decay, our despair and goad to questioning of the sand that runs out of the hourglass.

That outside of the phaneron of physics, as if to know it we assume one must vanish, is a matter of view too- hence the carousel or vortex idea to which some imagine we can come once around or a thousand times for another ride. Somewhere the flatland of the the Phaneron meets the Phosphene of our dreams as reality- even more substantially than say the insight of Jung toward such things.

These are the hardest of the limits of that light we arrange into physics for these reach the ultimate metaphysics of question if we treat them as physicality. In any case clearly our new generations for all of their virtual dependence and lack to grasp the import of the narrow moment is a new species of what our soul and hearts and remarkable waters and dust of life can and will become, somewhere and when.