What is real to me now? How eternal…
The quintessential anomaly about human existence is that it feels linear even though we know it to be cyclic a phenomenon. The idea of chronometry as it is a manifest interpretation of this anomalous perspective gives rise to the question…. Is this linearity also an element resultant from this linearity we imposed on memory? During this cataclysmic motion through time, we have evolved and thus meaningfully attributed time to what we have collated as memory. What then was this memory complex we had to develop for survival as a species on a harsh and brutal planet? Do all the days matter? Implying, does a human access the vaults of a millennia of memory in a single lifetime? Does the idea of life-time also impose a limit to the access to those vaults? Would immortality mean having unstoppable interface with the divine memory of our evolutionary path? Ok, basically I ask is the memory I am creating an element that would eventually drain into the fountain of the species’ collective unconscious? To be Jungian a little. And when faces are itching with death-trance symptoms…. During the chore of the living… would existence be a dream we all traverse from this evolutionary incarnation called humanoid unto the next and eternal? Do the contents of this life mean a mechanical design for my forth coming resurrection? What is life if not a florid mystery? Am I living or merely alive as eyes of a divine nomad through space-time…the god creature?
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