On Presence

This article might be a little bit longer. And probably not as poetic as the first one. It may be jarring, obtuse, infuriating and maybe none of these things. One thing it will be is a commentary on the existence of stuff itself. And non-stuff, which may technically be a subcategory of the former.

In my last article, I talked about Ma. If you haven’t read it yet, I advise you scroll down a little bit further (or maybe a lot further) and give it a gander. I promise, it’s short, and when you’re done you can go right back upstairs to this one. You might even find a way to enjoy it. I certainly hope you do.

This article is going to be about the opposite of Ma, the presence of things. This goes beyond concepts like people and objects, but also the presence of meaning and technique.

The presence of a pattern implies the existence not only of the thing in itself but of its repeated existence. Tilled fields, breeds of dog, eyes that match your grandmothers’. We wittingly and unwittingly produce these patterns as a byproduct of our existence. They are like carbon dioxide that fills up our atmosphere.

I don’t think that it’s part of our nature as humans to do this, because other species do it as well. Coral, bumblebees, termites and other colony animals do it just as well as we do. But what compels us all?

Part of this is based on the geometric nature of the universe. Some shapes provide special benefits in terms of storage ratio and energy transfer. But what does that say for purely aesthetic choice? Of this, I’m not sure. What I do think is that there’s a lot more that we don’t know than what we do.

I don’t claim to be able to tie up all the meaning and substance of the universe, or even of a small segment of it. The only thing we do understand is our own experience, and of that, just a little bit at a time. Maybe saying ‘understand’ is a little too generous: we see it, but we might not really get why it is.

I’ve often felt frustrated at our limited field of vision. It takes away our ability to consider our values, destinies, and dreams. But we can only live one second and one day at a time.

As I write this, the clock is ticking around to 2:15 in the morning. My cat is zooming around the kitchen, and everybody else is sound asleep. I don’t know why I feel the urge to type out more thoughts on the nature of things as I understand them. But sleep is not to be had.

Hope to get into bed soon. As always, stay safe out there. Try to get some rest from the bizarreness and busy patterns of reality. Get to that place inside you where only you exist and take some time to look at yourself.