What to say, what to say…
If all thought, and all reason, and all feeling, and all sensation – are actually forms of engineering, and mechanics, then the sooner one respects life and reality, and the sooner one views all things as a sort of mechanical process, the better.
If consciousness only exists between a set of mirrors and records, from the aethers, to the substances, to the bodies, to the self awareness, constantly bouncing back inside of itself to all levels in some degrees, I too will consider this layer of reflection to be a sort of capacitor, storing for a short, sweet while, that essence of “I am.” Which the universe has not yet said in thunder and complete enlightenment.
Unlike most beings, I do not really wish to teach or express. Instead, like a baby bird in its nest, I want to fly out of language and human thought. As the Somarasifians see it, inferiority is a form of youngness, unconsciousness and limited freedom. I will gladly choose this viewpoint, though my comprehension of their thoughts is so limited, because I know all-too-well the simial thought; and it does not feel harmonious to ever think that inferior things should either cause or receive any mode of destruction, unless the case may be a serious emergency of interests and futures.
My unconsciousness is a serious emergency, and my mortality is a ticking time-bomb of inability.
When I even come close to expressing anything in word, it feels like a spiritual slap in the face.
My finer moments were not in this realm.