Look back on the past few weeks and consider what has felt momentous for you. What have you let go of, surrendered, only to learn from? Has anything felt fated, or fallen into place? Write from the depths of that knowing. Of trusting the signs. Explain what you’ve witnessed in yourself. What tiny revolution have you faced?
I have been putting this one off; have probably opened the email and re-read the prompt at least thrice in the past 5 days and each time I have thought it an unfortunate obligation if I wrote in a time where I felt nothing much sank, made indents in me; where there was nothing much to feel, much of importance to learn, much less anything that "felt fated".
Only that the rain fell like snow, and met with my feelings as if two lovers reuniting on a highway road after years. Although not exactly either, the rain has always seemed like a companion, a force that coincides and corresponds, but each time I meet it with fresh recognition, -dare I say- delight. The few videos I watched on psychics and their exchange with the dead planted the idea that rain might just be an instrument for communication, and that someone was on the other side, or upper side, sending me a sign, some comfort. I wonder who it is, I wonder if it is all of them.
Only this, I had the idea to write- just rain. But since clearing my mind beyond the concepts of convergent evolution, non-synonymous substitutions; master/slave morality, thinking, consciousness and conscience; since last night I have let transient weighty thoughts filter through and linger more poignantly. I recall the slices of reflection that I have had over the past couple of days, the ones that wiggle through for just a second then disintegrate:
Nietzsche's evil is the life of delusion. Arendt's is the lack in thinking, in a more nuanced, specific sense of the term. Nietzsche both promotes and exemplifies the process of recognising and disassembling the Tetris wall man has around himself. Arendt says that there might be a wall but in the process of analysing it, even when you'd thought you'd disassemble it, you'd find that you'll put pieces back, take a few out, put a few of those back. "the business of thinking is like the veil of Penelope: it undoes every morning what it had finished the night before." The Truman Show was a reflective lens, a show within a show within my supposed reality that could just be a show. The question posed was: what do I know? But this is not a question unfamiliar, I have been asking this question so much, more a self-derogatory challenge rather than a philosophical and societal consideration. Maybe nobody knows at all -- what made you believe that you had to know? Your wildest supposedly most stupid ideas could be for all the world, the right, the wrong that leads to the right, the idea worth more ideas... I think that was my answer.
The world spins around the web and you stay relevant and there is the illusion of knowing, of being connected, of good friendship and tight relations. But to be relevant for yourself, such a win that'd be for yourself.
So some things I have surrendered or at least loosened grip on.
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