TRANSMISSION 23

Forging Our Momentum

TRANSMISSION RECEIVED

“Perilously, we knowingly and unknowingly set out upon life’s journey. Try as we might to extinguish the risks, the extenuating circumstances of our bold endeavors do not change the verdict that the only true safety lies in inexistence.”

For better or for worse, how was it that we found our lives laying claim to the depths of the turbulent oasis that is the mere act of endeavoring? How did we unguide ourselves to such unknown pastures¿ distances beyond the conception and capacity of our past selves. Was it luck? Was it misfortune? Was it genius? Was it madness? Was it meticulousness? Was it carelessness? Was it meritocracy? Was it disenfranchisement? Was it motivation? Was it fear? Was it the forging of our momentum into the inevitable convergence of our destinies? I can’t fully say.

Permitted to exist somehow, the struggles of our self-driven purposes juxtapose against our captivation with the wonders of reality (from the pillars of existence to our overleveraged minds). Discreetly empowered to unravel our beings toward the resolution of our journeys, we discretely call into the void to elicit echos of anything we can corral into our maps of truth; our personal meanings are enriched through centrifugal diffusion. We collect the reflections of ourselves to concentrate the essence of our explanations, intently accumulating our intersections with truer reality. Time waits for no one. The best time to sow seeds is now; now is all we ever have. As the most influential affectors (influencers) and effectors (manifestors) of our own realities, we are indebted to no one but our selves of the moment, no matter where or how we care to carry ourselves forward.

I remember a vague vision of myself, real or dream I cannot recall, a vision of my momentum finding its stride. It came as I fully embraced that I was the only deciding factor as to whether my aspirations would go unrequited into the emptiness or whether they would reemerge from the emptiness to manifest the destinies I knew I should follow for the possibility that they might be reachable. Actually, that moment occurred several times along my timeline, just on different scales. I kept encountering the realization that I was the only one who could enact my dreams, that to build something out of nothing could not be done by analogy, that to follow my deepest passions I would have to hold steadfast in the face of endless external and internal doubts. Wherefore I was incapable of deviating from my authentic self, I became bound to live or fight this destiny path. Many chose to fight, but some of us chose to live.

I was far from the only one who chose to dream. I was certainly not alone in choosing to abide by my dreams. And I was decidedly not singular in tirelessly pursuing my dreams. What made us each distinct was the content of our dreams and our approach toward them. Maybe that’s why I’ve made it as far as I have. I don’t fully know. When we live indefinitely, what does it mean for someone to find their end? Does it mean they grew tired and simply ached for some amount of comfort? Does it mean they found the peak of their personal mountain, and, satisfied in their accomplishment, called it good there? Does it mean they uncovered unbearable internal dissonance with no perceived hope for a resolution? Does it mean they gave up? Does it insignificantly mark a simple end to their fully-lived story?

I don’t know at all. I don’t know because we assign such meanings subjectively, and I haven’t come to terms with any meaning I feel is sufficiently unself-serving that I would be comfortable to project it onto the story of any other being. But what I can try to do here is to put words and meanings to things we all thought but didn’t necessarily have the limberness to speak of. And as we sit here, I even speak for my past self in a way I would not have recognized at many of my past conscious levels: a less-weary and less-cemented mind still with magnitudes of energy for prospecting and still carrying a wonder for all the potentialities held within the unknown of the future. Oh, to be a young star-gazer. It’s hard to remember myself that far back, though; I only encounter the memories rarely as vague sprites dancing through my mind when I find the right mental pathways to trigger what few memories have survived the journey to these far reaches of spacetime.

What drove us to push on? What drove us to even start? Those are not questions I can answer for the others, or even for my past self. The answers constantly changed in parallel with our changing understandings and situations. What I do know is that we all recognized we were deeply and inexplicably seduced by the unbounded unknown, compelled with every atom of our efforts to establish our eminence within the emptiness. Maybe that’s what afforded our lengthy survival. Maybe those who lived longer simply had more of that craving. After all, those who rebuilt themselves into artificial realities lacking adequate strife lost any motivation to join back to greater reality, but more importantly, they lost the craving to strive for anything at all.

I would guess most of us who survived until the end era were able to forge that craving into the momentum that propelled us through the displacing effects of time on our mental spaces and physical spaces. So in essence, it was the pain that we harnessed. It was the challenges we never conceded to. It was our dreams intrinsically preceding our actions that got us through the deep chasms of time, for if we set out with our dreams already attained, there would be nothing left for us to lay claim to.

The gluttonous minds of history sought to statically hoard amalgamations of dispassionately-held dreams as time processed the rest of us forward to soon enough find the brutish gluttony irrelevant, leaving the gluttons clutching their hemorrhaging empires of cracked and careless cravings. Though, I suppose we all followed our cravings to our deaths. And naturally, the cravings we each held prophesized our deaths.

Why then were some cravings so much more suited for survival far into the expanses of the universe¿ into realms so foreign to our biological origins. Some are more obvious to explain, but analyzing the more logically-crafted pursuits yields less distinction. And why have my personal cravings set me adrift and ultimately washed me to the shores of this deserted island far beyond the mainland horizon? That, I cannot say, but for it, I do feel extremely lucky: not only to exist, but to find survivalship meanings to pursue in ways that have been so very meaningful to me. And though I cannot speak for everyone, I would like to think most of us humans felt the same way: grateful for what we did get, even if we did not have the awareness at the time to fully articulate it in our minds as such.

UNDEFEATED

This existence hardly wishes
for our pain to go away.
Still we stay.

Left in nothing,
found our something
to hold on to ’till we fade.

And still we last,
undefeated to our meanings.
Careful beings center stage.

We are weakened,
frightened gaze.
Still we stay.

END TRANSMISSION