[. . .] What we (are/)have is a superposition of mind. There are no words for this, perhaps only toward it. The way we collapse that superposition (differently together) matters. The results are forces, not merely ideas, images, feelings and thoughts. The forces are experienced as these. How we do this collapsing matters. A lot. Some ways produce systems. Some, trances. But there are some few ways that produce better ways. In these I take great interest, for their interest is not in themselves or their survival — it is in excellence, with which I find easy agreement. The interesting thing about areté is that it accepts no badge of office, membership or allegiance. It accepts no tag of identity. It is beyond identity. Excellence comes before her (only briefly) static results, and will not tolerate their reification or worship. She is a singing fountain. And he observes (and thus informs) the shapes of her astonishing emissions as they break from unity into endless transformation, to again rejoin the pool, carrying all endless new treasures and memories, perspectives, assortments, dreams and wonder. Impossible, and true. The lighting, then the thunder. Aye gods, I tell you, this and more in any living eye or place. More than I shall say. [. . .] — overheard overhead
Posted on: Mon, 17 Jun 2013 06:14:57 +0000
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