The year 2019 of the Common Era is nigh. The year 2018, as configured by the Industrial-Gregorian calendar, is ending. Another year checked off and done, and not really with a bang. A New Year (whose sell-by / maximum freshness / expiration date is usually less than a year) looms. In a few flimsy hours, the holidays, which would be ‘holy days,’ will be over. Then more days, weeks, and months…another year. And then what?
A 10,000-year pyramid reaches for its point of contact high up in the heavens. A regime of symbolic abstractions orders our universe. Cycles upon cycles of psychedelic change: then something is supposed to happen. We are along for the ride, and yet, we hold the power to refuse, to opt out, to politely decline—to not to follow orders but to seek a different way of being in relation to time.
On a torturous path in an open field, where snakes lie in wait and wildflowers exceed number, your epistemological patience—and nimbleness—is required. A subtle shift in the wind could alter the entire landscape. We must chunk down and chunk slow, yet think fast on our feet. It would be wise not to be the ones gaping: What just happened? Rather, we could be the ones to see an other way—and take it.
Please accept my gratitude, all of you who’ve played some role in these Infinite Conversations and Cosmic adventures—with some quantum poetics and alternative realities and ways of knowing/doing/being thrown into the mix. I have deeply enjoyed all our reading groups, conversation cafés, underground poetry readings, first-person stories and dream reports, philo-/theo-/cosmological explorations, and everybody actually showing up and being who you are.
Y’all know who you are so I will not name names. But I do want to say that I believe you/we all are a dream come true. Sometimes, it’s true, it feels like a dream set inside a nightmare—which itself is set inside a much larger, much more unfathomable dream, like Russian nesting dolls; and there is some even more fundamental or far-out reality beyond that. But I want to say that I have been moved by each of you in ways that feel deeply real and seemingly impossible to communicate, here in my embodied actuality.
Let’s keep (it) going. I see 2019 as potentially the next to last year of the Common Era, brought to you by the Empire of Pathological Mythic-Mental Machines. I see the possibility for a new understanding of time becoming the inspiration for a new order of the universe, which begins small and weird, and altogether negligible, like some fringe spiritual-literary artistic community, but which mutates, multiplies, and spawns, and spreads like a mustard seed (for indeed, it came from such a seed). It’s nice to have visions.
I see a new (very ancient) revelation of Cosmic Time being founded upon Earth, by people like us. You’ve heard this before:
“Never doubt that a small group of thoughtful, committed citizens…”
I would only inflect, not citizens of a State—but denizens of a Primordial Condition.
What life would we lead, or world would we live in, if we resided in a Cosmic Time zone? When would we celebrate our ending and beginnings? When would be our sacred rituals and holidays? Life and death, friendship and enmity, creativity and destruction—what would the parameters of a human (or any) life mean to us then?
I say “then.” But I mean now. Or soon…I am still only dreaming.
I say “only,” but I mean: Watch out!
And I say, “Watch out!” But I mean: I’m in it for the long run (or forever). And if it’s an Infinite Game, after all, then I’m in it to win. Even if I’m starting at Level 0, 1, 2, or 3, I’m going to Level 11. Universal Love and Cosmic Adventure—or Bust! There’s my vision for myself and for us all.
And what if the Infinite Game could be played as a team sport? Who will catch the Golden Ball, my friends? That would be my dream (continuing to) come true for 2019, 2020, and Time-freedom here and beyond…
Yours truly w/ a deep bow ~
Marco V Morelli, aka @madrush
A big appreciative salute, cannons blazing, to the group that I hope to reconnect with when being and time returns and the death rattle of the grind is finally broken on the rack of sweet smelling sweat and sensual surrender.
A special thank you to Marco for keeping this capsule in orbit. I hope one day we can all meet in person and toast our Ahab’s entirely reasonable, and wildly infectious madness.
Thanks, Zachary! I hope to reconnect in the new year, too, and hear what you’ve got cooking. As well, I hope we can all meet in person someday. I am guessing that maybe not this year, but in 2020 it could happen, if we start dreaming and planning it this year. I’ve gotten this idea that 2020 in fact will be year 0 for Cosmos (in that everything we’re doing now is still preparatory—a gathering of energies and psychic sorting and kind of rehearsal), and that we should have some kind of constitutional convention and artistic festival to kick off the new reality.
I’ve also been infected by this notion that point is not to ‘change’ the world, but, in the language of open-source software development, to fork it—in other words, start from the received code base (bugs, indispensable features, and all)—but then take it in a different direction. That’s why I’m proposing a new cosmic model of time, because we will actually need this to go with a new economic system (insofar as in the current system, time=money, and this equation is being re-thought), which would provide the technical scaffolding for new forms of meaning-making and cultural solidarity—at least, for those who fork.
And do I believe that to keep going straight, to go along and get along with the current trajectory of ‘reality,’ is essentially choosing to drive off a cliff.
So I heartily agree and appreciate the recognition; I’m not just a madman spouting metaphysical exhortations. There is a plan. And yes, in my view certainly, it’s eminently reasonable!
Then let’s dream it. A 2020 reunion sounds grand. And by then we should have some actual work done. It will be high time to celebrate a few heroic attempts at fractal, non-linear, non-local, non-sensical prose and poetry, the location of which I imagine will have to take place post-democratically? If by then I can house a crew of a dozen I’ll throw our residence into the hat. Perhaps we could make a seminar or think tank of it and then have a party or just call in the Nordics.
I resonate with this. I think this nugget should be there in any story we tell about Cosmos, for Cosmos is, at its best, a meta story, whose very existence involves disrupting or at least stirring established strata of sense-making, established normative consciousness. To say we aim to “fork” the world and thus create a new meta-being (or world) that is semi-independent and sentient, even… is to require that there be space within our current world for that new being to be born, perhaps like a child in a mother’s womb. And furthermore, that the presence of the new & incubating world would necessarily influence and act upon, our current one, in ways we cannot fully foresee. The presence of a viable (to extend the life metaphor) world is a challenge to the extent one to prove its worthiness of continuing to take up space, and continuing to be the main “framework” for our existence.
I’ve been so inspired by what @natesavery talks about and is doing with his design for multiplicitous communications, I can’t stop thinking about what life would actually BE like on a daily basis if we could problematize the content and the framing of every and any narrative that “uses,” or implicates or touches, us.
A great example is this conversation I had with my new great friend, and roommate, Kristin, last night, about how people with neuroatypical or mental health differences are, throughout numerous life experiences, taught to disregard their intuition and sovereignty and hand it over because some other person, embodying “official” knowledge and the “official” pose of a role (e.g. of doctor), has been deigned to declare truth and falsehood on their behalf. Yet, as we painfully know, the doctor is often wrong–stressed, inattentive, wrong-headed, or simply possessing an inappropriate orientation–the result of which is the harm to the patient is only increased.
An aside on the current "healthcare as deathcare" theme
Everyone I know has stories like this, specifically in the domain of Western medicine. I purposely avoided obtaining a diagnosis for my neuroatypicality, knowing that any label would simply being a further obstacle and not a benefit, and that navigating and adapting my difference on my own would at least allow me freedom, if not also increased likelihood of self-actualization and success (check). However, I did endure three years of suffering mild to severe symptoms of what turned out to be gluten intolerance (or, perhaps, glyphosate/Roundup poison-burdened…) and Western doctors not only wouldn’t, but couldn’t, help me at all. Seeing doctors made everything worse–I was told I was “just depressed,” I was mocked as a hypochondriac and ignored. Because their formal medical framing had no way of making sense of a holistic auto-inflammatory issue. Being a woman didn’t help my case in these contexts, either. They had no way of even perceiving what was going on with me. I had to learn to help myself, through trusting the feedback loops of sense-making innate in my body. I’ve been well for almost six years, and I am simply the more resilient for it, having gained the bonus of a “healthy” distrust for people who equate higher social and educational status as qualification to “know better,” yet who grossly lack listening and critical thinking skills–or, who cannot be successful due to the larger context in which they exist (thanks to 12 minute patient visits, “throwing tests at it,” 2 hours of daily paperwork, & all the rest of the Orwellian rigamarole of health facilities.)
Yet this would be totally transformed if the patient and doctor were allowed to be on the same footing in their discourse–furthermore, if the patient had the final word over their situation… This is not the same as saying the roles of patient and doctor should be dissolved. Simply, the boundaries of the doctor’s narratives to control and influence the patient’s narratives should be reconfigured. If we had the framing and the “meme,” as a society, to recognize and name that: whenever you convince someone not to trust their innate truth/sense-making mechanism, and convince them they ought to allow others to define what’s best for them --that that is, intrinsically, a harm to sentient beings… what would the results be? What would “the world” look like on this day?
What you’re going through is not intrinsically a problem. How it is being handled is the problem. It is the society that is sick. This is the reality faced by, or affecting, most everyone in our society, yet it is largely unacknowledged in our culture and in our media. Empowering neuroatypical people to be themselves and simply grow as people and develop skillfulness is a concept confined to radical fringes, still (see: Icarus Project). Yet the magnitude of this scenario… the bizarre-o world upside-down reality of running from doctor to doctor and encountering the same lie, like you’re stuck in a glitchy, poorly-imagined virtual reality game that you can’t escape… wouldn’t that make someone feel crazy, indeed?! The only hope, the only lifeline, becomes your inner voice. Not the nasty scathing ones… not the worried anxious ones… not the self-doubting ones, either. Listen to the INTUITION, which is your wholeness (which some like me might name “Gaia”) speaking through you. The only way to break out of the shitty all-surrounding game is to KNOW you are well (or you have the intrinsic ability to get well if you follow your own inner guide), and to KNOW that despite the pervasiveness of the myth, all the rest is the stale and wheezing madness. Sure all signs may point to you being right about that. But that’s little comfort when you’re lonely, marginalized, alienated, because everyone else is bought into the narrative that harms you. You might know the truth, but it’s a silent truth. Until we evolve the language to “wake up” out of bad dreams so all-encompassing as to seem like you are compelled to believe they’re real.
Like you are compelled to believe they’re real. Your social relations, your means to an income, your esteem, heck, even your physical security are threatened if you don’t abide by the bad dream everyone else believes in. Where’s the trust and space enough, where’s the allowance, for human creativity to rewrite the meaning of the phenomena in our lives?
If I do nothing else with my life, let me help people know that they can trust themselves. That we’re built for intelligence, and there’s nothing to do–going with the flow and relaxing is actually the highest order of world and self, and the self-originating source of insight. That we would do better to simply trust our contemplative processes, over trusting how things appear. That other people may provide insight and input, but no one else must hold the authority to decide what is kept and what is relinquished in this life. We must remake the world to have meaning for ourselves. We must find, and build strong meshing relationships, with those on a mission to remake the world in the image of our wholeness and our real, vibrant difference. The suppressed truth is that every human being has the intrinsic capability to make themselves well and make themselves whole. That it is our birthright of existing in these sentient, complex bodies, to do so. This is the truth that cannot be tolerated by meta-systems who structurally rely on siphoning our life energy for their own survival. This is a life or death matter–the life of beings, and the death of archaic myths that no longer serve, is at stake. I believe human beings can and must embody a “front” of “natural selection,” curating the patterns we endorse, the behaviors we celebrate, the memes we build upon, the games we play. By caretaking our inner garden of stories–pruning the patterns causing us harm, and cultivating the patterns causing us wellbeing–we cannot avoid thriving. And this is what we’re going for, in Cosmos, I feel–a cooperative game to mutually “uplevel” how we are doing, here, in these times on this earth in this sprawling dream together. An infinite game whose destination is doing well, so well that we reach a point in which our cup becomes so overfull, it floweth over into ensuring the whole schema is doing well. (We are, after all, our contexts, so we ought to look after the contexts if our immediate scenario is well-looked-after!) Radical, imaginative, experimental, curious BETTER-MAKING is a future I see, a human culture rising or forking from this very Earth and its ancestral heritage of being-dreams, a culture that represents an embodied rejection of the thought-justifications, the communicated-reasons, and the behavioral patterns requiring that things be less than liveable… less than divine.
We’re made to live, it’s time we do so to the point of mastery.