Tongues Scattered and Hearts Realigned

"Early access to our new Chicken gyro" of all things is what made this click.

How did God scatter language? Understanding of all was distributed and buried within the confines of language and experience. The understanding could not be removed if reality were to retain tangibility, but it could not be readily accessible if humanity was to mature. So a kind of still was established in the scattering of language, and we have been fermenting ever since.

With human nature being what it is, there is a level where we all still speak the same language. The path to this level is convoluted and well guarded, but, somewhere within, it is as though we never stopped pursuing this portal (tower) to God. I have compared this to "secret sharing," a concept in cryptology, where each of us posseses a component of the overall thing that we are looking to unlock, the overall equation we are looking to solve, and by aligning these secrets the door can be conceived of and unlocked.

Understanding of the mechanisms of reality exist, in part, in pieces. In fact, as demonstrated by the manner in which I indicated that I was pushed toward examining this idea this morning, in much the same way that nature shouts of its underpinnings in its expression (golden ratio, etc), humans do the same thing, each subconsciously desperate to be heard. Additionally we continue to strive to accomplish this deep seeded goal, scouring to find pieces of the mechanism of understanding all, all the time through our endeavors (science, math, architecture, computing, etc), each with a specific realm of focus, each field an aspect of the underlying understanding that it ultimately endeavors to reveal. Over time we are allowed to think that a particular field is in and of itself the aim, a function of specialization, a function of the hardening of the mind over time in order to feel more capable within a smaller field, rather than feeling insufficient in a larger one. Consider though that each field is incomplete without the rest- these few that I reference, for example, each hinge on each other. One might say there is a hierarchical relationship there, but what if it is more complex than that?

The arts fascinate me in the context of this structure of understanding. Art feels as though it is designed to both deepen understanding and frustrate it at the same time. To me, art is the most apparent way in which an individual can declare that their perspective is important to the whole, and in so doing provide another unique piece of the puzzle to be considered. If there is anything to be learned from the many varied expressions of art it is that while we may soon achieve a level of understanding of all in the realm of physics and other to comprehension of our external reality, as far as gaining the same understanding of ourselves we will still have barely scratched the surface. 

This mystery within is an amazingly beautiful aspect of love in my opinion, as it feels like reality could have been obfuscated in much more simple ways, and much less painful ways, but in so doing these same depths would not exist. In a more simple solution I could imagine there would be arrangements of overall understanding that could be established where there would be no way for an individual to boldly cry out that their perspective is unique and important, for there would be no art. Perhaps such simple arrangements are not possible after all, for what could move such an arrangement from static once all are in agreement that it is absolutely optimal? To compare art to physics in such a final arrangement, artistic expression feels like the hairiness of a black hole- those final pieces that will not be contained, even when all classical understanding of things say there should be no momentum to escape. Just as the tangibility of the black hole is not complete without the hairiness, this puzzle of consciousness is not complete without art. Art represents the pieces that must be included, precisely because they do not seem to fit precisely within the equation; art is the constant frontier forming questions out of solutions.

Personally I have found that I embed some of my most complex ideas into my poetry, and on days like today it is making sense as to why. I did not come here to know all, I feel like such an endeavor would be both short sighted from my position and would be overwhelming; even on days when I start approaching this juncture it is overwhelming. However, in order to be able to connect with my soulmate in the way that I would like, it seems as though all must be accomplished, or at least be accomplishable, as far as this timeline is concerned. This seems to be a function of love permeating all; so while I do not necessarily need to understand all, I need to be able to understand all well enough to shape it through imagination into a form that I can navigate. More basically, this interconnectivity seems to be a function of a more complex system, for how could a component of a system be defined as such if it were not connected to the system in some way? Reality, simply put, is a very complex system. While the core coding of reality is generally well hidden (as mentioned with the scattering of language), it seems like there are ways to decode it, if one strives for that. I feel like we all do this in our own way, from our own corner, some looking to understand a larger piece of the whole than others. Personally I have strived to understand a great deal in accomplishing my goal, I'm sure biting off more than I could chew from some perspectives and only then imagining a knife and fork. It seems that which I have sought to understand ("Love, God, and the nature of the universe," as stated in my first blog) has resulted in a partial and chaotic "understanding" of all unintentionally; since I will not cease in what I strive for until I have accomplished my goal, it seems too that this chaotic effect will not be diminishing at this time (perhaps just until my aim is accomplished). So, rather than try to fight this current of understanding directly, or allow it to sweep me into itself in full, I have searched for ways to craft it into an ocean, and set my sail such that my ship guides me to where I am looking to go. 

This process requires a kind of venting, in addition to steering, but the venting cannot be done in a frivolous way, as the tides here are very strong and a frivolous endeavor, thought to be meaningless, is likely just a venting of the same magnitude as an intentionally meaningful one, but along unknown lines. Such venting is likely to blow me off course rather than allowing me to maintain the necessary heading but under less pressure. Instead of frivolous things, I thread whispered secrets into lines of poetry, specifically poems with a familiar structure (Pieces of Eight) so as to be easy for me to construct meaningfully and concisely, and later conjure an image swiftly for me, upon reading it. In these poems, I feel my subconscious working to direct the lines written as well, in order to maximize the intended effect, which in many cases is to embed something I need to encode for my journey, while venting a number of things that need to be released in order to continue my voyage without capsizing.

The turbulence my soulmate has recently described is readily apparent to me at such junctures. It seems that on each level the structure of reality might feel threatened, it responds to frustrate my progress, like shifting to crush my head as if on instinct. Even these responses can be vented though, as I continue to shape things carefully to the point where I have the structural integrity to thwart such impulses directly and with more panache, and persist in my endeavor of understanding coming in full. I have been at these junctures before, and I have felt this maddening deluge of partial understanding drown me in the past, the floodwaters surging as the day went on until it imprisoned me (possibly in mercy). This time through I have remembered that love permeates all, and I have kept my eyes focused on my aim, and my heart entrenched in love, feet planted on the cornerstone. The wave has come and gone, but this examination of its form has remained, so I figured I'd share.