Every now and then the depth of certain influences on your life comes back to you. At such moments those radical inflection points that outline the particular geography of your life in relation to all others are drawn into relief.
When this happens, constellations and confluences of meaning can twist space and time into the wildest of N-space manifolds, mathematiconceptually weaving disparate threads of the miasma of human ontology into fabrics. The importance for your own nature and potentialities of context, environment, and the character of the social actors that surround you cannot be underestimated.
You are the mirror of your environs, nothing less, nothing more, and time is the space of that reflection, in which social production goes about its business of generating the mirage in which and as which we live, that of humanity and of the human.
In it, Christmas, atheism, mysticism, VHS, public education, polyethelene, dirty rainwater, childbearing and conception, iPhones, the common cold, the Incredible String Band, ginger cookies, victoriana, vision, crime, redemption, and strings and strings of hundreds of lights in an imagined town on the northern border of Mexico are the stuff that success, childhood, and sleep are made of.
Maybe there’s something to that “facile” meaning-making argument after all. Teach me, as it were, to flow.
– Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone