Of Sieging

Some ideas have a quintessential identity to them and so even without complex analysis I feel they are right. And even if Sieging might have gone through a RQ Trial with martial reinforcement, I’ve come to depart their shapes more easily. Sieging comes to me like a constant reminder of my mind. Some notifications of neglect keep popping in my mind until I do something about them. It’s not much of my own sieging, as my mind, the entity it is, making pressure over this other conscience I can more easily define as I.

The trick about sieging is to know how to trigger it. Once it’s triggered, I’ll force myself to work until it’s how I like (or I crumble under it). The problem is that it’s not simply a matter of noticing a problem to care enough to have it have the impact in me to be in discomfort before it’s done.

Usually, the best way for some sieging to start is by making some special kind of mistake. So I keep it bugging me mind (and it can even be thought as a trauma, if one can allow a broader definition of the word) and I’m receiving constant notifications every time the subject comes to my mind, and so I keep thinking of how it could be evolved. That’s one terrible way to develop myself though, not only because it wears out resilience, but also because when it’s triggered it’s beyond my control. I can’t seem to turn it off.

There are several of these heavy siegings in my mind, and there are several of them making pressure to my mind. It feels like some parliament, all this battle of screams trying to have their project approved, while Vesta’s councilman thumps the table ordering silence, in vain. Sometimes I even consider labeling it a mindtrap.

Of confining commitment

So I find myself realizing that while I am doing all of this so focused on developing myself, the time is going on, and as there is just some months before I have two years working on this blog, I’ve been really questioning myself if this is what I want to do for the rest of my life.

And honestly, this is where I feel safe, whenever I am having the capability to feel safe. And the things I feel while thinking and writing are some of the best I have, because actually here I am basically recording and process all I know about life out there. It has some terrible pressure to it too and that is something very hard to deal with. Still, this kind of easy reasonable decision doesn’t have a quintessential nature to it, as even if I truly love this place, I can’t feel the love being greater than the feeling of doubt that I feel. Actually, it isn’t also much of a feeling of doubt, because I know this is the thing I can do best, it’s just the perception that this is what I am going to get from life.

Nowadays it seems we don’t experience this fear so much because we can always get divorce or change career if we feel like. It appears to me we live in a time when we don’t worry about choosing a life to live. And that’s great, actually. We are given the chance to experience life in a broader range, but I wonder if it is not something responsible for this enhanced fear of commitment to be considered confinement.

And now, I keep thinking if I don’t have this reaction coming over to analogous system. After all, undercurrent quintessences usually travel through surface projections, as it seems to be how the mind seems to sort out elements in dreams or how we can perceive analogies. So even though I can’t see it like this happening to me, I wonder if feeling it related to this blog wouldn’t also relate to my love life. I don’t feel afraid to actually commit myself with someone. It’s not something I am worried about, and that has its meaning, but it’s good that I question myself on this.

Of augmented days of defeat

Some people’s lives are about mountains and nature. Others’ are about party and sex. Others’ are about work and family. Others’ are about thought, development and creation. The realization mine is mostly the latter one makes me entirely uncomfortable, even if I try to appease myself with the thought it has its benefits. There is so much of the world out there going unexperienced, and the time is running out, and not even the definition I have with me is being done well.

It seemed like a long time ago when I had this goal of developing myself the most I could until I was twenty-five. It seemed to be enough time for me to do everything, but now I realize there’s only one year left to that. Somehow I’ve brought such an expectation to it that I feel my whole life is coming to that very point, like there is going to be no life after it. That is, if I am not developed like I want to be (which I obviously am not going to be).

The problem with becoming one year older is how every number added to my back now becomes a geometric progression of a burden. Each year it gets heavier and heavier. The pressure gets more and more intense as I realize how fast time is going by and I am having my plans being guillotined.

And while I am frustrated that I am almost twenty-five and nothing like I wanted to be (ok, some things I never even dreamed of creating, like this crest theory and the story of the flames, but it doesn't really appease my mind), the frustrtion of this day of defeat is augmented by the fact that all these other things I could have brought to my life instead were wasted already...

Of disordered Wehmut

Today I’m too busy longing for yesterdays. However, it’s only tomorrow I’ll feel them. Only tomorrow I will care for today, and this inevitable delta travel will follow like this indefinitely unless I change something about these stretching expectations that never allow me to live in the present.

I know today has brought me enough mindscapes, and soon they’ll become crests. But that’s the only way I can feel my life: through crests of gone experiences that were all mine to taste. Only tomorrow (and often it’s literally tomorrow) I’ll notice the experience that happened today was very interesting. Only when it’s no more.

My Wehmut  Process is disarranged to the point that it is constantly trying to revive something from the past or longing for a future that doesn’t exist, even when I know I am having a good time now. Still, I can’t fully give myself to it, and its true impact seems to be only available to be felt afterwards, through these memories.

No matter how impacting the mindscape is now, the tomorrow Wehmut will also make it look like it was maybe better than it actually was, only to make me more guilt of not having enjoyed it better. And it’s a strange realization that makes me confused and annoyed. I don’t know how to resolve it, and as it’s going it’s bringing me enormous distress with the outside complex brought upon myself. 

Of Thalassic Thoughts (undefined underwater shapes)

There is a place in my mind where existing shapes haven’t really decided about existing. It will take a while before they actually learn of the idea of being shapes, and only then shapes will be chosen. In this place figures are still dim, and their presence is so subtle that the acknowledgement of their existence happens in strange ways.

This area of my mind, or rather the material that is in this state I’ll be calling Thalassic Thoughts. They are thoughts from beyond the corners of my mind, and they haven’t become real enough. But it’s by naming these vague shapes that I can be a little more aware of them, and direct my attention to them. Because it’s from there all ideas and creations come from.

Regurgitation and other creative processes start around here, including even the musical quintessences. Unmasking or perceiving those events, or bringing them to my range of consciousness is how ideas seem to be shaped. As for the characters, their images are still in thalassic levels, roughly formed by similar characters I’ve seen in illustrations, movies and games, and then building tiles together to create something new.

This is an important observation that can really improve my understanding of crests. It’s from that rim of formation of thoughts that I sense some crests happening, whatever that means. It is in thalassic levels that crests shout faint cries, and it’s through soul-reaching attempts that I can get to cross the division veil and get the gathered quintessences disassembled.

Of crest overflow in dreams

Strangely, I’ve started having those mad dreams lately. They’ve been running amok with all sorts of non-sense and the overly characteristic element of dreams: lack of continuity. When I wake up, I feel like I’ve been in a long journey. I even wake up with memories of strange experiences (it’s strange the crests created from dreamed events).

It’s a while since I used to have dreams like these. Is there a nuclearity nearby that allowed this change? Is there any relation between this and all the introspection I used to do? These past weeks a lot happened with me, and I haven’t had nearly as much time of quiet solitude as I used to have, so I think my mind has more of a mess to ramble through with the daily income of new absorptions.

Is it really possible I was somehow actively using resources for dreams when awake (or resolving impacts), like bringing them up through conscious regurgitation and so when asleep there was not the excessive overflow I am facing in my dreams these days?

I guess this has to do with this subtle urge I have been feeling, of things wishing to be released, but being unable to. There are crests calling from the deep realms of my mind, but I can’t answer the call and feel relieved. I don’t know what is my soul wants, sometimes it feels like a deep and yet subtle sadness, one that I can’t bring to my eyes.

Of independent nostalgia

Like any of those vastly in contact with all sorts of communications, we are bombarded with notions of nostalgia, and what the concept means. It’s been mostly 80s and some 90s already, but not all of these are mine. Not all belong to me. In fact, I think it might not be uncommon to find people used with one faint simulacrum of the concept, and I’ve been one of those for a long time.

It’s the idea of crests in here, as one gets to assimilate the nostalgia that is from one’s own past. Some people consider nostalgic feelings only those people talk about like movies and games and happenings from a certain period. Those are the ones that are more easily going to affect most people, because they are more widespread. But the closer we get to our own crests, experiences and memories, the more we are in touch with that special kind of nostalgia that fewer and fewer people are able to share with us.

The reason why I am talking about this is because it takes a certain effort to acknowledge the preciousness of our own independent nostalgia. We are all drawn towards the “big culture” and all that can be shared that we have to teach ourselves how to appreciate our own experiences

As someone who has grown in a small city, I have the curse and gift that is to have in my memories hundreds of experiences that can’t be shared with mostly no one except family and childhood friends (with whom I have little to no contact nowadays). But once one learns their independence of memories, the identification of the true crests can really begin.

Of proto-dioramas

As I keep investigating my mind for information about these mysterious dioramas, I’ve been finding other experiences that are similar to them. However, some of them aren’t just as concrete, as if they were not yet mature for being called dioramas. Some are scenarios that come to my imagination with minimum stimuli, but they don’t present the same solidity for me to wander through or blend them like actual dioramas. These transitory dioramic structures are what I’m calling proto-dioramas.

They behave like dioramas as being quintessences of crests that can be disassembled in tile-like elements of a whole scenario. That is, it happens when I experience a crest like a combination of Garnets and Peridots from this church courtyard and previous experiences from these gem crests are available for me to build a vision in my head, a sort-of ready scenario that can be ‘explored’ like actual dioramas, but only available while I am experiencing this crest.

There is one vision I have in my head which I can’t still identify as being this proto-diorama or almost a full diorama, but it’s something I call Surreal Horizon. One defining aspect of it is that this is built from my dreams, and I actually remember the one it is from, dreamt years ago. And I think this is getting more solid as sometimes I feel it’s even connectable to the Cloudy Highway diorama. And also there’s the Scandinavian Rain, which is from an experience I had as a child and that’s related to the the German Farmhouse and even the Church Courtyard from above.

It’s tricky to go about calling them proto-dioramas, as I am not sure if they will become future dioramas themselves or another dangerous returning quintessence on the subject, or a rash mixture of gems and dioramas and crests, which would be a strange mess. And sincerely, I feel this idea of proto-diorama is a bold step beyond what even I can actually confirm, so this is mostly an experimental text to see if I can possibly describe what I am seeing.

Of Obsidian (the forgotten 28th gem)

Rambling through my notes I’ve found something that made me so ashamed of my poor management when I’ve found this gem I had to be added just with Topaz and Onyx and Pearl. And Diamond. And Steel. Somehow I had it completely forgotten, but then again those days I didn’t really have my thoughts really straight.

Obsidian means the beauty of space: galaxies, nebulae, quasars, pulsars, spinning planets and blazing stars. It’s the passion of astrophysics and space exploration. It’s seeing the moonrise over the horizon with the amateur telescope my godfather once gave me, looking for all its craters in its waning horizon. It’s the celestial search for planets, and weighing realization that the bodies in the skies are insanely huge balls floating around the black ether.

It’s related to Chrysoberyl when the moon rises in the sky before nightfall, and Lazulite as magical and wondrous the universe seems to be when I see the Milky Way poured across the sky. This gem is about night skies when there’s the cold breeze and countless dots blinking scattered over the dark blue velvet. It makes me think of summer nights staying awake until late, lying on grass and thinking about all the dimension of the universe and searching for solar system planets to be the lone remnants when the sunrise approaches.

The importance of Obsidian is in making for the perception of the world a little broader. After all, one thing is to watch the sky and the stars, and it’s something else to see the stars while fully realizing they’re distant giant bodies glowing. The experience of Obsidian is not accessible from anywhere, but once it can be felt it is a very enthralling experience.

As a last note, Obsidian has become such a chaotic droplet to gems as I’m finding it to disturb my choice of using Opal (and I’m afraid of this crack being the beginning of  some downfall ignited by a snowball of interdependent vertices). Maybe I should change meaning with Opal, as Opal would represent constellations and nebula clouds better, mainly because obsidian rocks couldn’t be more earthly in its volcanic origins (but chosen because it sounds otherworldly). I’ll give it a try without obligation. If in a month it works, Opal will become the celestial and astronomical, while Obsidian will represent the broken and… burned…

Checkpoint #19

October was a disaster, in terms of dream-chasing. At least the one that’s deeply associated with the work I do here in this blog. It was the most dreadful experience in the whole time I’ve been working here. It might have been the sum of circumstances, but this is the closest I came to giving up. I think that release in August brought me to this, and the restraint in September had a delay, making October feel like an actual blackout. So far I've been noticing a pattern similar to May-June-July, so I hope there will be a recovery like August too.

As I’ve come to unexpectedly revive some old self of mine, I felt completely insecure as if I had been dreaming all along. This change I’m coming through is making me feel regret for all I’ve done. In October I had suffered a terrible defeat in the war against the Scourgers. I had to know they would come back so strong! All these characters, named ideas, these silly mistakes and… just the whole thing feels so foolish for me. It’s the Hephaestus’ Fever, frightened by this enterprise and this close to succumbing to the pressure. This is the closest the Scourgers have come to accomplish their mission.

There were not great ideas, as trances were so scarce. I think the Greek Coordinates is the work of the month, though I’ve started with it around September, and well, most interesting ideas came from previous month too. So, as greek charting goes, I’ve spent the whole of the month with high Omega levels. I could just switch between Gamma and Sigma, but I was always feeling weak. I had easily over fifty texts to write, but the constant seediness made me procrastinate to an unimaginable extent. Thinking about writing meant overwhelming lead blockades and I felt strangely relieved when I decided to write just about the twenty most relevant ideas. All I wanted was to understand what was going on, and as overloaded as I felt my mind to be, I couldn’t unload them off my mind, so I’m feeling my head heavy and all my thoughts entangled.

Still, my life out there has had interesting happenings, despite being consumed with the fear that this work of mine was coming to an end. I don’t usually talk of people surrounding me, but I’d like to thank some of these amazing friends I have, and they’ve done great feats of support exactly when I needed them. Obrigado Samyra, Carolina, Michael e Ronaldo. Each one has helped me in very different ways, and each one is as important as the other one, despite some of these friendships being so recent, while others are one of the oldest I have. I’ve needed your help or I called you to pay a visit, to have a lunch or to go out in an adventure, and you were all so prompt. You rock!

Now, my plans were to try the restraint on November. But I am learning through terrible means the perils that is to border these areas. I have to accept it, the tolls can bring my doom. I’m afraid to try it once more and come over the point of no-return. But this project is my dear child and I won't let it die. This place is so intrinsically connect to my dreams that the end of this is the desistance of each and all of my goals. So my dreams must not be shattered again and I will do what it takes to rebuild all that felt so destroyed. 

But the worst aspect of the whole situation is that I am still feeling tired and looking forward a time to rest! The problem is, my life is about to take a giant shift, and I wonder if I’ll have time to work on this and follow the trimester plan. But that’s the chance to feel good with some nuclear victory to pay off for this nuclear defeat in October, though I am out to find how to have that strength back, how to get back to the explosive recovery that comes after the disillusion of release.

Edit: FINALLY. I've uploaded to deviantart all the 67 pages of the sketchbook I've been working since April.