Broken barrels.
In ten years I won't remember writing this. In fact, I'll probably forget about this post after I delete or stop maintaining this writing outlet. Or, perhaps by classifying this post as already forgotten I have superseded the memory, such that I will associate this post with memory loss. If that were the case, then perhaps this will be the last memory I keep.
But for right now, I'm in the moment. My heart is beating, I can time my keystrokes according to the blood in my veins, and I can exist as a perfectly oiled machine. However, as time passes I am already starting to forget the feeling that I had at the beginning of this post. I sat down with purpose and plodded around the web-space for a while until the only thought on my mind was emulators and finding where I put my Logitech controller.
And now it's a new moment, and the sounds in my ears are being replaced by newer, crisper noises that slide through the air, already milliseconds old by the time I am able to register them. And thus, whenever living in the moment, remember that said moment has already occurred. There is no planning, there is no anticipation, it's all reflex. I can't fabricate any algorithm to match my day, because every breath goes down a bit differently, and it can't all be predicted.
So there is reaction, as opposed to action, because surely nothing is done of nothing, and it must come from something. And as such, perhaps all we are living is one giant chain reaction. I wake in the day to find myself hungry, so I must work for my food. But before I can earn my way, I must be in contact with a culture and hold a job. And in order for me to hold that job I must have transportation, for which I must accrue insurance payments and, ultimately, a place to call home.
There is no more wandering, there is no more seeing the world for what it is. All people believe things because they either fear them to be true, or they hope that they are true, and, perhaps, one could argue because they have been convinced or shown that it is true. So the wool is pulled over our eyes, either by the hand of another or of our own volition, to see the world through a filter. And belief is just that, the filter through which all of existence passes in our recognition of it. Belief effects our everyday reactions, perceiving situations from another point of view, and only perceiving them, and makes us shape the way that the day moves.
So if I believe that I won't remember this piece of writing, how does that alter the time-stream? My actions henceforth shall reflect one with no knowledge of this post, but having written it and believing in the contents of it, reacting as if I had read it. But I haven't read it, and I won't know if I wrote it, so even though I am in full agreement with this post at this moment, reacting the the music in my room and the chemical reactions and neuro-messages within my body, maybe someday I'll react differently.
But for right now, I'm in the moment. My heart is beating, I can time my keystrokes according to the blood in my veins, and I can exist as a perfectly oiled machine. However, as time passes I am already starting to forget the feeling that I had at the beginning of this post. I sat down with purpose and plodded around the web-space for a while until the only thought on my mind was emulators and finding where I put my Logitech controller.
And now it's a new moment, and the sounds in my ears are being replaced by newer, crisper noises that slide through the air, already milliseconds old by the time I am able to register them. And thus, whenever living in the moment, remember that said moment has already occurred. There is no planning, there is no anticipation, it's all reflex. I can't fabricate any algorithm to match my day, because every breath goes down a bit differently, and it can't all be predicted.
So there is reaction, as opposed to action, because surely nothing is done of nothing, and it must come from something. And as such, perhaps all we are living is one giant chain reaction. I wake in the day to find myself hungry, so I must work for my food. But before I can earn my way, I must be in contact with a culture and hold a job. And in order for me to hold that job I must have transportation, for which I must accrue insurance payments and, ultimately, a place to call home.
There is no more wandering, there is no more seeing the world for what it is. All people believe things because they either fear them to be true, or they hope that they are true, and, perhaps, one could argue because they have been convinced or shown that it is true. So the wool is pulled over our eyes, either by the hand of another or of our own volition, to see the world through a filter. And belief is just that, the filter through which all of existence passes in our recognition of it. Belief effects our everyday reactions, perceiving situations from another point of view, and only perceiving them, and makes us shape the way that the day moves.
So if I believe that I won't remember this piece of writing, how does that alter the time-stream? My actions henceforth shall reflect one with no knowledge of this post, but having written it and believing in the contents of it, reacting as if I had read it. But I haven't read it, and I won't know if I wrote it, so even though I am in full agreement with this post at this moment, reacting the the music in my room and the chemical reactions and neuro-messages within my body, maybe someday I'll react differently.
posted by Dylan at 5:24 PM
1 Comments:
This reminds me of a concept I ponder sometimes regarding Alzheimer's disease. I always fear that one day I will awaken to find everything I know to be lost and that I will retreat to an earlier state of mind that I thought I had overcome, only to unrealized those realizations.
Even still, I find when I have conquered my own mind that there was always something I'd overlooked or underlooked that just has this rolling-stone effect in my mind until I stand over the rock and ask it why it's still moving after everything I'd done to it. This isn't to be confused with "over-analysis" or some terrible inability to let anything go that happens in my life, but instead it's something I've encountered that can't escape me.
If I were to develop Alzheimer's disease I would depend on others to help me remember those terrible times and the most wonderful times. I wonder who would be there to help me remember those times. Who would they choose to help me remember? Who would they choose to let me forget? What if there was no one but some volunteer worker trying to spend time with me? What would happen to those memories?
Basically my point to this whole endless typing (which as turned into a post-length comment and I'm sorry about that) is that if I were to develop Alzheimer's disease, wouldn't I have already forgotten what already happened just recently? Wouldn't in some time-paradoxical way I be already be forgetting these moments or this moment?
I suppose Alzheimer's disease would be like living your life one day and the next awakening (X) number of years later forgetting that happened between now and then. I mean I've been around for almost 21 years on Earth and I can't remember everything that happened in that time. Imagine a whole lifetime just blown away! In the end, I really know nothing but common knowledge about Alzheimer's disease and the fact that my mother's side of the family suffers from a history of it. Everything I know is just speculation from the side-lines. This is where Wikipedia and the internet come in handy!
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