Dean Rivers (dean_r) wrote,
Dean Rivers
dean_r

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Putting raw data to raw emotions, part one.

Subtitle: The Resurfacing Flaws Of My Past Begins With Pictures

I want to imagine if I were to look at myself and my journey, I don't think I'm walking the clichéd path of going around in circles. I'm not arriving back at the same place over and over again as the same person.



What I want you to imagine is asimilar to "Ascending and Descending", an Escher lithograph based upon the concept of the Penrose stairs, but I need you to put a monument in the centre for me, meaning we cannot see any of the stairs aside from the side of the building we are on. We cannot see the flaw in the logic of walking up a staircase forever, and unlike Escher's work and unlike reality, and more like the Penrose Stairs, there is no easy way out of this. We can just walk, and enjoy whatever feeling of elevation we want to believe we have as we ascend. Also, unlike Escher's picture, not only am I asking for you to put something in the centre to detract from the intrigue of looking across and seeing the impossibility, I need you to put everything else in the universe around the structure, essentially the most beautiful distractions, the most hideous distractions, but all the distractions in all the worlds in your mind nonetheless. This is a big ask, and we'll all have our own perception of what this is like, but this is where we have to start.

If you're with me, we can begin my journey.

I am walking around this giant building and there is one central door on each side of the building. I am walking around and enjoying the most fantastic view I have ever seen every time I turn a corner. I can see the sun, the stars, the moon, the worlds, the most beautiful natural wonders our minds can attempt to visualise and comprehend but never put into apt enough words, but I'll never see them together from this vantage point, but it's breathtaking enough that I don't know if I could handle it all, and that is enough for me to keep walking around and embrace whatever I find next. They're all around me, all around the block itself, too much to take in on this level, but every time I turn the view gets better and better, more tantalising, more distracting, more immense, making me feel less and less with each step. I sometimes sit and look and study and ponder about what it is I'm looking at, and at that point I realise how unable I am to grasp what I have in front of me. I am truly going nowhere.

Once I get up and moving again I embrace the facet I spent so much time with, I recall with precision the exactitude of what I have tried to comprehend, but with this immensity in my mind, it pushes out the past teachings I had, I lose what I knew. I am flawed, leaning too far in one way or the other, but never perfectly balanced, never content with what I have around me to take that look inwards and see these doors. If I were to open a door and take a look inside, I would see a hollow room, absent of sound but not silent, and a glistening bronze stairwell, spiraling upwards into what looks like forever, but this would not be a lie, unlike the world outside. This would lead me to the top of the structure. I would find my vantage point, I would see it all. I would do all I could to handle it all, and that is all I could ask for of myself.



I don't want to see it all, this is what this means right now. I am content with the wonders in front of me and the distractions around me, content with the flaws I have if I can pretend I don't have them, but I am deserving of a lot more and have no reason to settle in any shape or form. I have to understand who I am better and get past these immaterial yet existential things. If we as beings are perfect, we have to accept that our flaws are perfect. I am not there yet, I am not able to accept that my flaws make me a better person, and so try to hide the flaws away inside me. And that's corrosive shit to have sitting in myself. It's burning me apart and I can feel it, it's venom in me. But as a poison, it weakens me, it makes me accept that this is what I am, skin and bones and fat and muscle, all the parts you can fragment and see, and I can look at myself and feel hurt and isolated and scared. But if I am able to see myself breaking apart, how do I look at myself? What vessel am I using for this discovery?

It is my soul. It is my essence able to take a metaphysical step back from who I am, to accept the fragments as they are and come back in to hold them together as they are meant to be. When I am not detached I don't notice it there, holding everything together. You don't initially accept the canvas, perfectly stretched to its limits, when you stare at the beautiful painting, with moments of genius and glaring imperfections, but everything is honestly portrayed and presented as well as it could have been, with nothing to hide. It is there in black and white and colour, impossible to change, impossible to ignore. All one can do is look and accept this is what one person has viewed as perfection, this is as beautiful an object as is possible to be created with their hands. But the canvas is the most important part of the picture, holding everything together to be as perfect as the maker intended it to be.

This essence is perfect, it is not tainted by the poison that affects the joints and mechanisms inside me. It is too complex to be affected by such a man-made plague, and it is able to spread itself, perfectly stretch itself to its limits, which are limitless, and consume me if I want it to.
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