It is an ordinary day, in this avatar, on this planet. Ordinary means, “out there” appears hectic confusion, moving diffusely, scattered, wandering in here, out there, through the neuronal pathways – generating “aha”, “oha” – briefly traversing the nervous system, only to ramify again in the ether, in the grid of the matrix, vibrating frequency, modules of matter.
“Ordinary”, however, is also this stillness, this emptiness that permeates everything from within, that provides everything. It does not dwell here and not there, not beyond, it is not of this world and yet it permeates it completely. Not tangible, not visible, not measurable, like dark matter.
My days are manifestations of this silent, invisible presence, they carry this eternal moment that gazes through everything, through every form and appearance. Nothing and no one can exist in it, nothing is permanent.
If there is such a thing as inside this mundane “matrix”, then I am outside. Knowing that inside and outside do not really exist, and whatever is “the matrix” and “me” does not know of inside nor outside.
It is my brain (presumably) that makes this distinction, based on its capacity for perception, for linguistic interpretation, and makes it appear as a projection. The matrix is a kind of complex verbal structure, whose words are frequency, information. It does not really exist, which is fascinating because of its ability to shape and structure “reality”, and also to have a formative effect on the avatar.
The avatar is possibly the most explicit expression of the matrix which carries information stored in space and time, the vast unknown subconscious, in its cellular memory, the DNA, and is in vibrant exchange via the nervous system: this world no longer touches me, it pervades me.
In this permeation, demarcation can be difficult, and not seldom in my memory, the sheer abundance of information from the collective subconscious overwhelmed me in my then perceived limitation, which sometimes seemed unbearable, not least through identification. Sensation and thought – everything seemed highly personal, clinging like a concrete block to this imaginary entity I called “I”, with which l was identified, of which I thought it was the source of this unfathomable, uncontrollable stream of information that flooded through me. Quite often my humanoid system reacted impulsively amidst the torrent of the collective subconscious and trauma, although there was frequently no response asked for.
Memory steadily fades, releasing itself into this vastness and emptiness, losing its attachment. Perhaps this is why I feel “outside” the worldly matrix, because its addictive yearning for a goal, for arrival, for a peak, for redemption no longer evokes resonance in my system. In this vastness, all waves have space to dissolve, losing their significance in the course of it, without wistfulness.