the Parameters in Flux

 

Looking forward standing guard televising to those behind them the Future Mother the twins will bear 

    It must've appeared in a flash-like lightning effect where the image imprinted on our eyes brightly starts to fade, inexorably as time once again tells the same old story.  It's when the new guise itself takes on an original life of its own that things begin to get interesting. 

    The nature of the technological singularity reflects the aspect of the only possible singularity itself.  When the map's depictions threaten to drop you in between the curved and constantly unsheathing barbed teeth of the fractal dragon leering forward in an endless Cheshire smile, it's always nice to remember that even real shadow-beasts cannot actually cause harm in and of themselves. Just nevermind which is the map and which the territory anymore. Seems to me it's our correspondence with the creatures that dwell in between the pages of the narratives we've been led to imbibe that we should be concerned about. Not their empirical existence mind you but rather their ineffable impact on the lives and decisions of growing persons the world over.   Think of it what ye will.  

   After all, what else got us here besides our will power?  Our ability to navigate our way into and out of a shoe, for one thing.  No one's here to cheer us on.  We're all gathered here alone together. It's up to each one of us when to get out of bed, brush our own teeth, when to drink a glass of water, and when to be conscious of taking in a breath.   With only each other to guide us, it's a small wonder we so often are led in circles. Who else are we going to turn to in our times of need?   

   The arch-nemeses of a host of individuals today remain attached to their peripheries like shadows in the way of their path intruding in the bright glare of day and withdrawing through the portals of twilight to disappear into the murkiness of night. At the end of the day you have to live with yourself.   

re:Update | post-Pandemic

by  Shaun Lawton      

  I don't have a library  of books, I have an ecosystem of books.  They are like living things, some being newly introduced to my domain, others undergoing a sort of slow demise as they yellow and collect dust. Some are borrowed while others are born into this teeming underground world via self publishing, for example the line of books under my imprint 𝕻𝖑𝖆𝖘𝖒𝖆 𝕻𝖗𝖊𝖘𝖘 were midwifed into my home courtesy of print-on-demand sites such as lulu.com and amazon.com (the two I've used thus far).  

   In my paperback jungle I've stacked multiple towers of Moorcock, Farmer, Ellison, and Dick.   An exhibit of Ace doubles draws much attention and careful scrutiny reveals many wonders in the post-literary veins of Delany, Brunner, and Koontz.  The King of the jungle dominates my finest bookshelf with the many paperback editions and even more hardcovers collected over the years.  It stands like a totem with a 55-inch plasma screen placed upon it like a crown.  Emanating a baleful presence, echoing the Crimson King.  When dining on the flesh of the long left over Ouroboros embedded within our dna itself, let it come as no surprise that many of us are still here, entertaining what the definition of infinity might be.  

    I've geared up my Freezine of Fantasy and Science Fiction to produce an issue every month, and managed to succeed at this endeavor with the singular exception of last month, August 2022, where the fluid and streaming webzine is currently bookmark'd with a three-parts serialization of Franz Kafka's The Transformation, presented as such for the edification of a newly wide-eyed potential audience of younger readers. Old man Winter's done about to run out of snow, don'tcha know. He's been squarely caught in between the bright head beams of cross running traffic. Engines revving hungrily in front of him while other metallic beasts lined up behind honk out loud and the doppler effect of sirens approaching confounds the moment in paralyzed terror.  

     We're free flowing in the rapidly speeding up current of the Singularity now since its riptide increased by several magnitudes of order. There's no escaping this post-gravitational force guiding us along on a course resembling that of white water rapids, the heated debate between analog vs. digital artists drowned out in the impending downpour of this apocalypse.  And such an apocalypse it's turned out to be! We're being ushered into and through multiply evolving eras as if through a gauntlet packed with unexpected intrusions and accessories.  To say its confusing for the majority of us would be to place an understatement of absurd proportion for our consideration.  This place is a madhouse! 

   And it's as thrilling as the surefire thrumming of the latest carnival attraction's engine warming up, about to take those who strapped into its contoured bucket seats and foam padded safety shoulder harness bars on the wildest ride of their lives.  At the same time I foresee certain stages of advanced equilibrium grounding maximal chunks of the proceedings into super long-lived epochs of stability.  It's as if all the contrasting elements which have always balanced each other out before have been upgraded into much more super symmetrical and denser elemental particles, as if someone mixed in heaping teaspoons of neutron star material into the flux.  

   The stark and arresting beauty of this current situation maintains that while certain fundamental aspects of our reality remain as unfathomably complex as they were before, certain other embellishments to the old tropes have evolved so fantastically as to render those old complications into elementary simplicities that any child could take for granted.  In other words you're damn straight it's a brand new world, Aldous Huxley would be somewhat aroused while I'm afraid George Orwell would hang his head in shame.  Ray Bradbury would certainly be cautioning us against the very brand name chosen for our most popular eReader and Isaac Asimov would certainly shake his head sadly for lack of a way to convey the idealism of his definition of an old fashioned book.   

     In a world where anything goes, how could one possessed of an adventurous spirit and has survived the pandemic not be thrilled with our glorious present moment in time to the point of undergoing possible cardiac arrest? That's my primary concern, I've not got the time nor inclination to bicker and complain about a world that's gone to Hell in a handbasket when I've been here long enough to have not only contributed to the weaving of the basket, but have long ago figured out we make our own Hells of the bits and pieces of paradise which broke off the glacier of Eden so many generations ago we're no longer capable of being certain if we've translated the meanings of old fossilized writings accurately.  

    On a planet caught spinning as it revolves around our central star beheld in a vast suspension network of celestial bodies critically linked to time and gravity itself, I've been around the block enough times to know that the present moment we are all currently caught up in provides the totality of our needs insofar as the alternative prospect of what the so-called "future" and "past" happen to hold in store for us. Perhaps that's the one difference between those whose goals aim for a future that never comes and the ones who manage to figure out a way to live in the moment and remain happy.  

Six Shades Sharper

Stepped In Life

To really uncover the manifold viewpoint which my speculative exercises in creative writing lead toward, it becomes necessary for us to take the tip of a clue and run to the ends of the iceberg with it.

Given that the real nature of our solar system is an order of magnitude different from how most
of us are likely to perceive it, it's quite enough to scale up the relative accuracy, that is to say, refocus it to clearly see just how ignorant we naturally are to begin with, take a close look in the mirror, and smile.

Knowledge is a process which begins with the lack of
knowledge, and that lack is what we use to define ignorance.

The truth, as it appears to our normal everyday thinking about the "experienced knowledge of our solar system"(and by extension, the galaxy it belongs to and the universe as well, of course) always falls short of the real magnificence on display not by one single order of magnitude, but by so many orders of magnitude as to leave one stunned in abject shock reeling with the inability to further process it all.

Even when we compare things which seem different by suggesting they are "like night and day"to each other, it doesn't come close to capturing the sheer degree by which we are so wrong about everything in this life--beginning with our real place in it.

By "it" I mean the cosmos of course--what else could I possibly have meant?

It.  Here.  Now.  Reality.  The Universe.  You.  Me.  This planet.  History.  Our lives. Life.
All of us.  We.  This.  This thing we share.   This street which has no name with our own names
already fading from it.  This address to which is prescribed one resident.   There...now.  All better, world.

~   ~   ~  

The end of the iceberg is a magnifying glass fore cast to melt 

the next time this star comes

rotating into view from behind the frozen armor of our world.   

~  ~  ~

We must perforce gaze through it quickly before it melts away completely.
The big Reveal is relatively simple once it's been given to a life form to grasp.
The problem is one of having to necessarily remember or recall to be exact
the stupendous breadth of our cosmos while being navigated upon the course
of our exhalation's depth, a combination (our beholding the universe and our selves)
that rarely gels into clarification for any creature caught up in the experiencing.

Yet clues are collected in the cuffs of our clothes.
If a fading colored bead falls in the forest, hear it
echo like a cannonade of pealing thunder!
Know the leaves dessicated and blown back down
trampoline shattered have been scoured and cleansed
of all pox populi but the parts which remained a grippin'
thus scarcely yet barely meaning 'more than is god given enough'
or another word for plenty which while we're on the subject
of words that's what they all mean ever last lovin' one of em, PLENTY.

The word means plenty.
Plentiful.  Plentiplutarian.

It all translates, roughly, to

"That which we are capable of imagining always equals the lowest common variable
denominator plus itself...we are capable of imagining, at the very most, one thing plus itself,
which means we are capable of imagining two things; but that is where the capacity for us to imagine
anything else drops off abruptly to absolute zero, nill, null, void, empty set, nothing, zilch, nada, zero."

Unless we try harder, that is.  That's jumping ahead of ourselves.
The way things really are is at least a billion times more interesting than how we normally think of it.

UNLESS, again...that is,  We.  Pull.  Ourselves.  Together.  But what does that even mean? 

Must we pull ourselves together individually before we get it so that we can pull ourselves together as a people?  Think on it.  Thank you.  It's necessary to begin at the beginning...and that means every single one of us.

Is it possible that there is One Meaning to this thing which no matter how many other ways of slicing it into different and separately contextual sub-definitions manages to nonetheless capture the totality of possible spirits manifested within it?   The answer is a resoundingly and infinitely echoing into underlapping silence YES and I am pleased to know this backwards as well as forwards.  SAY-YES.

JUST LIKE our Solar System is not TWICE as amazing and complex and mindblowing as we formerly thought it was, and not THREE times more so nor even FIVE times more so and no not even TEN TIMES more amazing than we formerly thought, and not one hundred times more so nor one thousand times more, but somewhere on the order of a HUNDRED THOUSAND TIMES more astonishing than we formerly thought possible.   And then some.


Just like this teensy weensy almost insignificant observation, we may infer that most queries into the unknown nature of our existence most likely as well would provide insights so stunning as to be beyond our capacity to even imagine?  Oh wait--it is.  By definition.


See, it's NOT that we cannot imagine a supermassive, titanic amount of God-staggering data; it's specifically and exactly that our ability to do so is necessary not for the task of imagining complexities we enjoy fabricating in our mind's eye, but for the actual necessity of understanding truth, which ITself may appear staggering on a level far too many times removed, in terms of complexity of execution, from that which we are capable of being programmed to normally comprehend; but for a built in genetic clause, which, when activated, triggers an elemental information-exchange program which raises the level of awareness in the mind of its host until the saturation point causes a flash-pan messianic complex, often with results far superior to those which were anticipated.

The fundamental paradoxes we've detected at the base levels of quantum and classical physics point toward a deeper design which accounts for how  THE BIG PICTURE frames itself:  from aligning two mirroring halves--the micro- and macro- aspects of our universe.

We human beings exist at the cutting edge level of where the macroverse and microverse appear to meet.   In a real manner of speaking, our feet are mired down in the thriving, living muck of the microverse itself just seething up and out and away from the planet core of our beautifully idiosyncratic world spinning in revolution about our yellow Dwarf star, itself on a vastly more gigantic scale circling about the central galactic core of the Milky Way, a barred spiral galaxy amid billions; while our heads tower upthrust through the clouds in our mind thinking our eyes can "see the view above the world" with a clarity that often mistakes the real nature of what we are examining.

For when we study the remainder of our universe; that is, every other star in our own galaxy as well as which might be contained in every other galaxy out there--bar none--we may truly lend the focus of our gaze to the most magnificent mystery which has haunted our species since we first crawled out of the brine to stand upon these sandy shores and dream.  We are staring at nothing less than Death itself.    

In order to direct our attention towards and examine carefully with our own eyes that phenomenon known as Life (from which we ourselves appear to have stepped in to remain relatively unscathed for the time being, at least individually as far as we can tell) it becomes necessary to cast our gaze down at our feet onto the ground and pay strict attention to the vast aspect of this earthly dominion we have either inherited, or to be quite frankly put out enough to suggest, that this terraformed planetary habitat has been unfortunate enough to have received our rather rude and thoughtless imposition on its once, shall we say, more  pristine original condition...

All of which is to say, after a manner of pointing out, here on this isolated blog Exorlyric on Google's blogger domain,  that the common denominator appearing throughout different examples of depictions which convey how things really are as contrasted against how they have been understood by most of us,  is mainly that the difference between the reality and our perception of it is by an order of magnitude so unexpected that it would leave us all dumbfounded with astonishment and amazement bordering on stupefaction, were we to be exposed to it.    

It's important to point this single fundamental principle out.  The Truth Is Far Crazier Than We Think, Even If It's Simple.  It's a point of reference which might better be cited as a point of reverence--why-?--because of the altogether Far Crazier Platform Of Amazement which reality appears to operate on--which, regardless of how any living sentient creature on this Earth might perceive it to be, is and always shall remain weirder and more unexpected than anything any one of us could ever imagine.

The mere fact our existence on this spinning ball of rock, metal and plasma apparently caught up in billions of years orbiting about our nearby yellow Dwarf Star is still an ongoing phenomenon mutually enjoyed by us all and which has yet to be and may not ever become accounted for by science, I say, is evidence enough for even the most rigorous logician, doctor, or priest to sit before in a moment of silence and share each other's speechlessness before it all.   

~Refreshest This Page~

The whole of our UNIVERSE can be said to be made up of two halves:
1) The Physical (outer) universe and
2) The Nervous (inner) system,

these two halves performing what is closest to mirroring each other there is, only both images working as functional entities in actual existance, without reflection, although each remaining a part of the whole. These two systems transpire throughout each other, but do not occupy the same space. They remain in all areas but the poles seperate from each other.

*(thus the poles are the tollgates between these worlds.)*more later

The poles of the physical universe are as a pair only half formed, with the conclusive pole existing in temporal stasis (if not for this dim facet of existence shuttling the random cross-circuits, our future/destinies would be entirely alien concepts to us, buried in the permanent blackness beyond).

Because of this temporal-stasis-existence (which has to do with the physics of time-development) we as living creatures are offered the physical possibility of learning and possibly affecting our future/destinies. It's up to us to comprehend the withstanding of temporal travel through seemingly illogical space via timelessness.

We humans, as vessels for individual nervous systems, differ from NON-nervous systems, otherwise known as inanimate matter, in that we do not displace that portion of universe we occupy: unlike rocks or metals--matter dense enough to displace their areas. The flesh of our vessels actually occupies an area of space around our nervous systems (or inner-systems) that is a "buffer zone" that allows for an alloted percentage error in our construction through time; in other words, our physical bodies are capable of routing through zero-dimensional points or one-dimensional lines as well as three-dimensional spaces, but only so long as they remain alive; a dead body is identifiable for the reason that it suddenly displaces the area it occupied. For this reason the dead displace the earth. In this sense the living more resemble ghosts or wraiths that can move through temporal spaces.

Just as great distances must be breached in our physical universe to arrive at the toll-gate of a pole (literally the end of our universe), so must great inner distances be traveled for one to arrive at a pole of the soul. However, as one who has traveled to a pole in his inner being can testify, the "great distance" is cancelled out through the equation of hyper-mathematical travel.

Note* The "pole(s)", though at opposing ends, on a sphere, are so only in that this is the arrangement as represented graphically onto a "sphere". The reality that said "sphere" equates to positions the "pole(s)" in the center.

A "pure sphere" in actuality has its center and all points in relation to each other occupied in one relativistic area; its graphic "roundness" like the ball of an orange occupies seperate points in space only because this is the only message our brains can interpret into understanding a sphere's total components; to state that a sphere is nothing like a ball would not be much of an inaccuracy. In other words, the North and South poles of a "global" sphere are no more on the outside at opposite ends than they are on the inside at center.

Our "temporal" image of the conclusive "pole" of our universe indicates a sequential process of interaction along a binary line: a "will" or "will-not" resolution, in other words: the conclusive pole (denoted S-pole as opposed to the origin pole denoted N-pole) will in time either form itself or it will not (in which case ordered completion will occur or it won't). In the case that it doesn't, one could say that chaos proved dominant and our universe might excise itself into formlessness. In the case that it does, only speculation provides the answer, but to have our universe ordered into its complete "sphere" would indicate our "arrival", if you will, (through space/time) to that unique "toll-gate" connecting us with other universes. Nothing less than the doorway to the promised lands.

STATISTICALLY OUR PROBABILITY CHANCES OF ACQUIRING THIS COMPLETION STAND AT 50%, THE RANDOM FACTOR CHANCE OF AN EITHER OR DEVELOPMENT

The previous statement is true only relative to our position in spacetime development. To not allow for developments and/or changes in the integration of our space/time/universe's physical make-up would be blindly presumptuous of us. For this reason statistical predictions fall into an unstable category of knowledge: i.e, they remain effective only so long as our present moment is concerned; indeed, statistics, as a branch of science, is at most a fleeting pursuit, if not totally unstable. [Note* The concepts of "gambling" and "playing the stakes" fit in conjunction with our ideas of Hell for this reason.]

If our world were to complete itself, the structure and integration of ordered reality would develop into the second stage of the fundamental wavelength, which is the "sine" or opposite of the "bell-curve", our present fundamental state which allows for the chaotic arrangement of variables we have so brilliantly graphed out in our probability charts.

Yea, when and if our poles connect, we will find ourselves as precisely integrated variables in a synchronously arranging world; NO LONGER will random determination construct a "bell-curve"; but rather, the INVERSE of a bell-curve (sine) will begin to generate, and the opposing polarities of INSTABILITY vs. STABILITY will increase dramatically affecting each other in wild synchronous abandon. Mediocrity and all those variables brought to the forefront of the "co-sine" era will decrease dramatically into seldom sporadic occurances. This is to say, 'probability' will become the "exception" and 'synchronicity' the "rule".

{Note of interest: The yin-yang symbol is a more accurate graphic representation of a pure "sphere" or our total universe: the two "eyes" representing the "poles" (being both inner and outer) and the central division representing the wavelength broken into "cosine" and "sine".}

The simple experiment of stirring a cup of tea and then observing its cyclonic surface from the proper angle will result in the ability to visualise a "perfect" yin-yang reflection, complete with eyes, in the ordered maelstrom of torque induction.