Our Being

Oct. 18th, 2015 04:24 pm
laughingdove: A brown avian creature with a short beak and large dark eyes (Default)
Mildly styalised scientific illustration of cyclamens from root to leaf to flower with a butterfly

[Image source: http://scientificillustration.tumblr.com/post/131275372999/pintoras-attributed-to-anna-blackburne]


Egh....trying to communicate things to people when they are heartfelt for us just sounds like broken fucked up poetry. A lot of the time it just feels totally impossible to communicate with people and I just seek out those who can see as much as possible. We are so used to it, though, we don't even mind it, except when people try to box a fraction of us away from the rest.

We have no problems with only interacting with someone closely with a fraction of us but the rest of us still exist. It's ok if you can't talk to trees but you can pat the cats, but that doesn't mean the trees aren't there. The trees honestly don't even need to talk, they are trees, their desires and needs are entirely different from that of the heartbeat creatures but they are still of the same stuff, the same essence as the heartbeat creatures. We relate to ecology concepts because we feel like they reflect our internal being, a rainforest is more relatable to us than any single tree, soil grain, dead leaf or beetle.

We struggle a little, with the concept that people feel lonely for troubles expressing themselves, because on one level we relate but on another level the whole of us are so used to being totally incomprehensible that the idea of total relation seems alien and a little pointless. Of anything, the thing that makes us most comfortable is people expressing honestly what they see of us and not deciding things that don't exist, and that's all we really need. That gets complicated, though, when we want to relate concepts to people....sort of frustrating, but only to some of us.

Our core doesn't even really care about the concept of relating at all, it only exists in being and not being, the idea that other entities exist as a separate thing from itself doesn't even occur to it. We don't feel particular lines between the whole of ourself and the rest of the universe, even if constructed aspects seem contrasting when folded together in an unusual way they still exist on the same spectrum and are still fundamentally the same and different.

The sensation sometimes is of...computing outside of our skin, almost. We think outside of our own body all the time, we are used to ourself spilling everywhere and our presence filling a space. Some people pick up on it, we've been called very...projecting. The shape and colour of our thoughts is changed by and bounced off our surroundings, the senses we experience are innately part of our thoughts, they become our thoughts, we could not think the same way in a different space. This is why we like drawing and writing, because it's like adding on another nodule of processing power and space to think. Our drawing and writing isn't just taking out of our head, our thoughts are a cloud between the brain, the hand and the item of creation.

And other beings presence is the same way for us. We shift and reflect and react and are catalysed by other presences, and it can be unpredictable. We can be crushed under the weight of another's expectations or climb them like a vine, or even symbiote with them. And each little 'individual' element of us has different interactions and each possible combination has different interactions.

We feel so endlessly vast and it exhausts our body so hugely, there is so much memory and thought and alien being in us and we feel so old and tired. We know what it feels like to be one with the universe, to meditate to 'enlightenment' as far as we can tell and then decide that the concept is unhelpful for us in many practical fashions...maybe we should become a monk....but we doubt many churches would appreciate the things we feel like we are.

If we could not be what we are, we would like that. It has been difficult. To many entities clamouring. Too strange. We ache upon exposure to narratives of exhausted immortals, because much of the time we crave oblivion and true rest, we feel so endlessly ancient, geographical, a relic of too many pasts that interferes with the futures of the current apparent container linked to these experiences and thoughts. The same way we feel our capacity lesson based on bodily trauma or functions, we feel our being filtered badly though machinery that ill suits the shape of our thoughts. Exhausting.


Oct. 18th, 2015 03:56 pm
laughingdove: A brown avian creature with a short beak and large dark eyes (Default)
Not sure if we will end up using this, or if we do, what we'll use it for. Might be a place to stick prolonged ranty-rant emotional stuff, though. Might be a place to amble about kin thoughts, and maybe post some old long entries we've made. Maybe we can pop some more of our world building rambles in here.

October 2015



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