Dear Diary:
Practice makes perfect.
As I explore the universe I realize that meanings run out to infinity, as force fields dissipate into oblivion. Is there a sharp line between the concrete and the abstract?
No. It is a continuum from perception to perfection, with an asymptote at either end progressing toward the ultimate reality-in-itself, but never reaching beyond the mind.
All my life I have practiced projecting myself into the abstract in the perennial search for greater profundity. I got pretty good at it, even as a teenager. But as psychology goes to help the abnormal fit into a normal society, its not helping the normal fit into an abnormal society. I am a groomed and suited to this churn. Or am I? My soul levitates above the fray. For better or worse…
I have had my share of mindfulness, ecstasy, and peak experiences. I have felt transcendence toward nirvana. I have also felt the pull toward the philosopher’s exit strategy into nihilism.
I have plumbed the depths of soul migration to the beginning and end of time, to the edges of infinity. I see the fractal pattern of universal law permeate the order with rudimentary logic as a template. I follow the trumpet’s call.
I have come to believe that there is a universal memory and imagination, an inner consciousness accompanying all energy-matter, regardless of how simple or primeval.
I believe we can connect to that eternal bliss and improve the performance. It begins with a thin thread but with adherence it grows to a rope.
I have seen things. I know. But more importantly, logic alone has also taken me there with mathematical certainty.
All that has happened still exists in a universal collective memory. All that will happen now exists in the universal collective imagination.
Yet now the corporeal is instantaneous in an infinitesimally small and ignorant revolving glimpse.
Yes, Dad, I know! There is still more…
Randal Adcock 