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This line of thought began as a comment to a blog elsewhere, in which, credit where due, Val D’Orazio, incapable of original thought unless relating to the artificial cultures she builds her life around notwithstanding, introduced me to what is termed collective future memory. At first whim it goes against everything I believe in, as I consider myself old soul enough to insist that more of this world is predictable than sober society wishes to accept. Not predictable in the sense of magically seeing the future, but rather if there is a creator responsible for these shenanigans of the universe, then said creator is not very imaginative. What we see around us is cyclical repetition, followed always by invariable reaction. I’m implying that we can calculate things to come, from as small as guessing what someone will probably say next, to big concerns like how deep in the hole geopolitics is set on digging itself. Those who get shocked by such events as politicians inadvertently outing themselves as crooks, I am not speaking to you, as this portal ‘o mine holds too many syllables for you anyhow. The millions using online social media are fundamentally oblivious to the basics of cause and effect, so I am not writing for their benefit. Which I don’t see as denigration, only stating facts.

In fact, in my late teens I made quite a bit of side-money pulling psychic cons, blowing minds of fellow Job Corps inmates, usually of the thug variety, by telling them undisclosed events from their respective pasts which I would then opt to give perspective for. They were simply that predictable, although they would hopefully then find themselves left with seeds to wonder at why that might be. I called the practice spiritual loansharking, and it won me even more protections than money, which was enough to launch a copious nicotine addiction. Much of what I do in this life amounts to social engineering. A young Egyptian lady I knew a long time ago referred to it as unobserved heroism. Change cannot provoke the immutable, rather versa vice. I go out of my way to prevent others from taking blame or credit for whatever I do, and for myself to avoid receiving blame or credit for whatever others do. In all matters. Living out such an ideology leaves everybody around me no alternative but to strengthen themselves for good or ill. Nobody in all of existence deserves to be either used or abused, certainly not by me, so I have never in my life asked anybody to be either my friend or my enemy because they should learn to fill those voids themselves. Lest they get used or abused.

But the more I weigh this concept of collective future memory, the more terrifying it seems. The socially-acceptable consensus has generally been to view the past as a thing left behind, and the future as a thing approached head-on. I’ve heard of some bizarre little religious sect in Vietnam, where they viewed time as backwards, with the past before us in sight as the thing we all naturally face, and the future a thing creeping up from behind that we cannot see coming. They also believed that heaven was buried below us, with the world both physically and metaphorically prohibiting access by the living, so that mankind bury the good dead to get them pointed in the correct direction for their journey to begin. Equally, they saw hell as the void above us, with nothing to cling onto, so that the bodies of the bad dead were burned, ashes drifting up and further away from yonder heavens below. Much of this may have come to me through dream however, or from old attempts at meditation, which I always called brooding. I felt that way for years and years, but after some times with DMT, I learned that no two people are really facing the same direction. And if there is that sort of disconnect in consciousness, in experiencing where past and future originate, then the experience of time would have to be a spectrum, with as many people naturally inclined to see the future more than the past as people inclined to see the past more than the future, and varying degrees in between felt by the majority.

Now, that makes a world of sense to me. Which means that in the end, I am probably dead wrong. Presuming there is indeed an end, as explained by my noumenon and which my own terminology of “nilskidoo” not-so-ominously questions.

I do have great issues with the currently trending simulation theories though, because along with predestination and religious afterlife, it erroneously entitles believers to take less responsibility for the here and now, when what’s to be found in the here and now is manifestly the only thing we can be certain of. All things said, what passes for logic in my mind, no matter how much it feels true to me and my taste, doesn’t mean it’s the same rule-book the universe is exploring. I’d even argue that power comes solely through the exploitation of bias, rather than itself being categorically immune to it just by being powerful. By my experiences, it must be taken as a given that all authority short of the universe itself depends exclusively on a leap of faith to explain its existence, for the masses to pardon the neediness of all authoritarians. Only the universe can humble us all irrefutably, because unlike every lesser authority down to users and abusers it exists in a perpetual state of unpredictability. Meaning that by confessing such doubt in the supremacy of my own ideals, or of any ideals short of the universal and unbiased, am I wiser than any political leader, religious leader or business leader. If power corrupts then none must have it, not even the wisest among us all, and especially not in terms of our personal relationships. Past and future might well alternate allegiances to mutability, but fate and the will are conjoined twins, born without choice but to affect one another and thus this intermingling of the will and fate presents a singular ethos, singular pathos and singular logos. A focal point, the cherry on your cigarette to gaze upon like unto fiery redemption. A needle’s eye of recognition halving the celestial curve of the godwheel which rolls out the battered fancy of the space-time continuum. These sacrifices, these boons, such is life.

Behold, the costuming of Love.

Again, just stating the facts. Only for those co-dependent does self-dependence read like self-importance. I cannot be any other way. Give love nor loyalty freely, because so too shall go self-control.