[Issue 2] - 1m39s
This post was originally posted on www.albertdong.com. On June 5th, 2019, it has been transferred here.
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I’ve been dreaming a lot recently.
One dream has been appearing over and over again — one of fog and murmurs. Lost in a world of infinity with all sights and sounds alike, the axes collude and intertwine.
When the daybreaks™️, my senses become overwhelmed with the auras of the world — an 180° deviation from my dream state. It’s a fearful experience. I just want to close my eyes again.
Lately, I’ve been trying to be less aware of the world. The idea of conscious ignorance has been at the back of mind for much of the past few weeks. There is so much in the world, and the vast majority of it are extraordinarily weak signals. I’m hoping to block those out and allow only the strong ones through. Those are the ones that invigorate and depress, renew and destroy. In a normal distribution, it’s the tails of the 95.
Through simple existence, our senses have developed filtering mechanisms to parse out the noise of the world. With an infinite number of stimuli and a limited amount of cognitive ability, our bodies have built for us a natural defense mechanism for making sure we aren’t constantly bombarded with information.
It works well.
I think we can do better though — creating an internal world of fog and murmurs, where only the strongest lights and sounds reach us, each one with the ability to shake our world away from the steady state and impart upon us, the utmost extremities of emotions.
The goal is the ocean. Infinity of mice and men, a world of fog and murmurs only broken by the greatest of stimuli. Inconsequential to the world — the rustling of the wind-blown bush — but of consequence to us. It need not matter what breaks us from free from our idyllic harmony, only that it impacts and that we meditate upon it. For only the strongest of substances should be the ones that reach out hearts and remind us — hey, we’re still alive.