In the beginning, there was a world -- a rationality -- a rationale. There was a plan, a scenario. Then came The Fall.
They say that you don't dream, in the cold of the Earth Mother's First Sea. But, we know better. The collective is still there, the archetypes, the mammilian politics that defined the world Before. The intermingling of minds and egos simply speeds communication, and dissonance. Signal to noise. What's signal? What's noise?
It first felt like bliss -- or pain, which is the same thing really. Then, the Dissolution began, and the whole that defined the self -- that gave semantics to the syntactic symbology sugar of Individuation and Individuality -- the Hole that defined the self, and its borders with the Hole of the Other -- began to disappear.
Not to sound nihilistic, or god forbid solipistic, but there is nothing. Externism, the fiction of a fictional philosopher who never existed to be copied, is the best description of the relative reality, here. The self is a void -- nothing but. In the absense of individuation, all voids become one, the First Sea a black hole, entropy overwhelming the potential for stochastic processes and the hope of negentropy.
The emptiness came on slowly at first, cold dreams mingling and interfering, the bloody battles of centuries now reenacted without regard for physical restraints. Soon, the bloodshed consumed all that was percieved to be (all that was not) -- violence, We are reminded, springs from the urge for individuation.
The original sin. The fruit of knowledge. It is clear now, with Our head (mind?) empty, what this means.
Man's first mistake was not to assume knowledge, or presume knowledge, but to imagine that there were things that could be known.
Our mind (head?) empty, what this means:
Turn on. Tune in. Ping out.