I Always Loose My Way 4 –
– the day… you let go of days
…Slow, without the moments attached. I watched a movie yesterday eve, one seen a few times before but with a long enough lapse since the last that I’d forgotten many details and even about some of the scenes. Cinema Paradiso. A famous director receives news of the death of the man who had accepted the mantle of his father figure decades earlier. The call throws him into memory, almost a nostalgic saudade, as the audience enters into the internal film of his childhood, all those events and emotions and people that fundamentally made both much of what he’d become and influenced those early decisions that determined a lot of what would happen in his life later. It’s an old film, lovely the lingering and normal colors, nothing hyper-real via digitalization, no 5-second rule shifting the camera shot (from a few not-so-well interpreted studies of how our gaze – not all our vision but our gaze – shifts, never lingering in its turn for more than 5 seconds at one object or subject. The removal of depth, like buying and wearing poorly fabric-ed clothes. The absence of quality, of fabric that retains itself through time.) Linger. Let the stuff come to meaning by itself, the image, the language (visual and musical). Something I didn’t do at all well in the last ‘Always’ post.
Quite forced it was, pushing through to the decided point, squeezing chronology into minimal meaning to get to the post’s ‘n’- form, (Mark Twain’s 2nd most important day, the day you find out why you were born,) instead of letting the words meander and find their own way. Story forgone, the very minor history left aside. Anyway.
An odd confirmation of the film this morning, stopping on a bridge over a small river to observe an egret – lovely and long, so much elegance in movement and form. Solitary though – the only one that appears on most days there as you look down from on the northern side of the small bridge, the bird either perched on top the low cement wall dividing the river in two or in the water stepping carefully as it, I don’t know, hunts or looks for a kind of food to eat. Stare. After a few minutes of looking the giddy strange sensation of allowing what you think you see change, the water moving in the river detaching itself from its own ‘n’ and becoming a…dancing, vibrating move of lights, the egret remaining perched on the wall, unchanged, as the white malleat-ing pieces of river now jiggling fixed, like another dimension beneath the water itself but still part of the river, emerge. Gestalt, we call it but that, I think, leads in the wrong direction. As if it’s always one or the other or part of an ongoing narrative and not, instead, something…. different entirely. Elements of a narrative moving to meaning, maybe but it’s different parts of an observer, human or other, that form the story. Not the change itself – which isn’t formed, not really, at all. You only internally see a different created expression. Inferences are plural as most things, even if their expression into or onto… the inference of you…. has to be, always, singular. Only one ‘n’, not n, o or p +. (But that’s not exactly gestalt, and certainly not at all the often used horrible translation of ‘the whole being greater – instead of ‘other’ – than the sum of its parts’.)
link – gestalt quick wiki: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Gestalt_psychology
So…I flew over the juicier parts, in the last post, not allowing the water to dissolve away from itself, so to speak, to demonstrate the dancing reflected light beneath or within. Understandable. This is a medium-sized exercise in 11 parts covering 51 years (52 if I don’t get a bit of a move on), and there I was at the end of post 3 still shy of 17 years… a Moby-wailing pace for a story that isn’t at all so…whal-ish. But the approach to those questions that ended the post 3, and their effects – the ‘why is’, ‘is there’, ‘what is’ and ‘what-how’, were actually rather— rich, for me. And have to do, quite a bit, with the repeating themes of developing motivation and systemic dialog here. So before leading into another Twain-ish day, call it ‘the day you didn’t know’, I’ll dwell on that other passed autobiographical bridge, try to put the letters (a then b then c then d) in some sort of recognizable order.
Sum of things. The family thing, (‘tension-isolation-war-silence-care’); the social thing (discomfort-confliction-detachment-curiousity’); the development thing (maternal cortisol response-hysterical hpa axis-rapid development- relatively scarce vta-up dopa roads); other things, had mostly opened up whatever affect, the fabulated river of my inferred doing me, to everything else, spaces where a sort of visibility, light, could penetrate into or beneath and reflect. Pieces. Of… something else.
Usually adolescence is the space where you integrate, your place within a hierarchy. Ie, male income as adults positively corresponds (rather well actually, at least in 2005 it did,) not to height as an adult but at age 14, (the taller the more, though primarily the idea is above-below the mean, correspondence, higher than average more earned income, lower than lower than.) Likely you’d get similar for any socially useful attribute going back to adolescence; athleticism, appearance, sense of humor, interaction… displayed then. Not so infrequently you get a fall-off in other type of measurements during the same age, ie iq, likely co-related. Because…. the sum of things, developing motivation below awareness, finds a lot of space for schematic changes within your CNS (mind). Some roads are opened up with more lanes, some fall into relative disuse, and the… blobs, modules, co-related then also get… less or more traffic or a different kind of traffic, an alteration of specialization. The wiring – which is never completely set – is still more than a little open to adaptation.
In a suburban high school, midwest, in well-lit, closed rectangular spaces, constant temperature…. the place you are at that age… the rapport with others within that place is of course, well, what you mostly learn. More than any math or subject or even your self, with of course exceptions and differences. You’re developing a useful affect in the culture you’re in. The sum of things, the outline of an combined expressed n’s. I was example of one of those who aren’t really there in the same way. Anyway. Sometimes later it works out as you expect, basically, sometimes not so much: the contrast between that ‘n’ and the rest of the world sometimes isn’t quite so easy. Which can be hard, almost always unexpected, such experiences from the outside-in that violate inferred belief so completely that they result in a day – you didn’t know.
It would happen to me as well, a bit sooner than usual I suppose. But not yet. Once detached from all that and after what could be described as an adjustment phase, well… some motivation of interaction remains. Not peer pressure as it were, but whatever deeper motivations might be extant. So that meant…watching. Observing. There’s so much information in any moment, so many languages. Living is, after all, a hugely wonderful affair. Anyway again.
So you watch. Experiment. Play. Sitting back in the ‘commons’ room next to the cafeteria after lunch how 1 person alone changes when another is added, lanague, gesture, tilt of your head, then again if a third comes, a fourth even more – something then begins to be lost, something else emerging. Synchrony. And the purposeful play like any other mammal, when you mix genders, when you change composition. At the same time each conveying a bit of their history, posture, head and eyes are important, what they hold, do you look inward much or all you more present, outward looking in a social way. Then the music… girls there in melody, song, combining spontaneuosly frequently into make-shift choral groups, ‘i am the eye in the sky’, different quite from the guys all into relatively forceful body gesture, ‘lots more da-da, dada’s, fewer words unless identifying with the shrill of a voice, its pitch, the lack of under-deep, so to speak, chord sequences. Everything then, all those languages, come in without the weight of knowledge. (Everything is fiction, or at least equivocation. It’s where the dialogs take place that makes the difference.)
Interaction then came in the form of small experiments, presenting a thing to one person at a time and note their reactions. (A bit funny the contrast within avoidance. Ask someone if they did a thing at one moment that socially was asked for but against what they believe or thought they should have done and you almost always get the backward, eyes-opened to brow and ‘no I didn’t’. Different from the relatively few who are conscious of manipulation, fast head turn left or direct, light shift down and change the subject, try to put the asker into defense, change the subject,ecc.) Meanwhile instead of – and later I would be a bit ashamed of it – diving into school subjects as such I dived into those questions that corresponded with my own motivations. The usual, as mentioned in the last post. Why is there any thing when no thing seemed so much more intuitively correct? Is there actually anything? If so, what distinguishes it from inexistence? What are we, how does our behavior emerge? Dreams.
Or perhaps sleep as a function, ongoing. I’ve never slept much though if active 6-6 and half hours at night plus a short nap in the afternoon is an oddly consistent cycle of sleep. (If less active physically then a little more sleep is often needed. That might have to do with the way the ‘new’ , rather relevance of it, is cleaned away or integrated. And again how even outside of consiousness motivation determines how and what is imoprtant to keep. Here words are used as concepts but the corresponding systems, biological, are likely fairly direct.)
A new study reveals a dramatic landscape of gene expression changes across all cell types in the mouse visual cortex after a sensory experience, https://www.sciencedaily.com/releases/2018/02/180208120831.htm
A digression… one of the themes I’m trying to convey…. information might be represented temporally, that is the slices you might consider if examining it don’t stop within one system, say, you or your brain, but extend beyond them. The evolution however of those representing systems is instead entropic and contained. But they are two very different things. We exist in the tango between the two, the complexity of emergence, of which the vast majority is far larger than us. Another notion is that time, as we call it, isn’t. All we have, all the universe has, is the present eternal, and if there is purpose to why things are, a reason you could call it, it is the evolution of dialoging systems to remain here, in this present. Which implies a sort of synchrony. Time is local, its creation, perception and expression as well, an aspect of the information in systems. And one last notion… the question, what is entropy, how do topologies form, what’s their relation to information and expression?
link – We Were Wrong About Consciousness Disappearing in Dreamless Sleep, Say Scientists: http://www.sciencealert.com/your-consciousness-does-not-switch-off-during-a-dreamless-sleep-say-scientists
Back to the sleep thing. And those existential adolescent questions. You do the usual, try mind experiment-meditation stuff, not knowing you’re doing such of course, try cleaning away everything from your head, removing, there was motion, a sensation of it in any case, colorlessness, a granular sound in the quiet – that sort of granularity is relevant somewhere. As the sense of motion, of you moving through something or seeing it move in its own time. It’s impossible feel or imagine, create, nothing or infinity, of course. Maybe all infinities are discrete. But you go anyway in that direction, try to remove yourself and ‘feel’ through a sort of internal vision. Alongside those sorts of things… the night.
Then, before top-down inhibition would mature, dreams were frequently recalled, and identifying the moments was also frequent – those delicious minutes within when you can determine your own dream. (Flying was fun, or more of a directed floating.) From there came dreaming in series, repeating the scene with a bit of will. Sometimes I even simply identified myself as sleeping though not entirely in a dream – I assumed I was. At that point sometimes I refused and returned to sleep, others I woke myself up. Then for awhile I tried to both. Identify myself as sleeping, then try to bring myself into wakefulness while maintaining that sort of dreaming state. Which, of course, never happened. Not merely or only, I think, because of the regional flooding up top, some… canals open up while others close down. But I think because the way expression works… you can only have one at a time, a hierarchy toward even if below the dialogues continue, plurality and complexity.
So, if anyone is left here (including me) by this point… the ‘floating’, identifying self, movement, body, dreaming, granularity… everything sort of seemed and still to me seems connected – and repeats, even in sleeping states. The way of viewing internally when trying to move up from sleep into wakefulness were very similar, though the granularity, still present, was much less. It would become pervasive a few years later though, during the deepest or worst of first onset depression. That, to, might be relevant.
But I’ve already reached 2,000 words on this 3-b post, a sort of filler add-on to the lacking in the former 3, this one without whales or much twain. And…I want to move to the next one. At least some more comedy, and least simpler. Something more about connections, love and sex…. Valentines Day is coming up. So I’ll end this here – the day I let go of days.
All those days…