The edge of nothing

All thinking is recursive, so it only makes sense within its own systems of measuring what makes sense. It’s like any bureaucracy. And you can unwind it all the way, through the personal and impersonal, until there’s only you looking at Nothing and the awareness that you are not Nothing. And then…

What we call DNA, what we call planetary motions… I am seeing recursive patterns of thought, with one frame crystallised in form through the mind’s organising principles. These principles are passed on through the individual’s acceptance of another’s influence. There cannot even be space or time without personal acceptance of impersonal thinking.

What I’m calling freedom is the infinite centre before infinite space: where emptiness is also fullness. There can be neither thinking nor the absence of thinking.

Like a black hole, this central freedom takes us from ourselves. The I disappears. So it feels to me that the ultimate ecstasy is to ride the edge, getting as close as I can without falling in. Oh heaven, oh heaven, such bliss!

And each time I wake up, realising I must have fallen in, a new era tries to give meaning to that movement. Only by letting go of the meaning can I play again.

First there is the fish, only then the water.

And without the water, the fish wouldn’t dream of swimming.