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Writing space isn't space writing. : Writing Space • Page 2 • Writing Forum | WritersDigest.com

Writing space isn't space writing.

Here you can post a picture of you in your writing space.
Buttered_Toast
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Re: Writing space isn't space writing.

Postby Buttered_Toast » Mon Sep 20, 2010 7:01 am

You're welcome at the mention of Langan's theory. The guy is purportedly the smartest man alive today, or at least the smartest KNOWN living person right now. His theory is thick with terminology that you kinda have to pick up as you go along. After you piece together the meanings of words and the various numerical or visual representations, when you read over it again, things can be felt gradually falling into place, like some sort of mental Tetris. I think I'll be combing it over several times before I'm entirely comfortable with his theory. (Comfortable understanding it, I mean.)

Anyway, it's amazing how hard it is to shatter the illusion of time. If you suspend the concept of time and sequentiality in your life, it feels like it's floating on a bubble that could pop at any time. It feels like you came from nowhere and that there is no destination to move toward. It's really a lot like a computer processing data. Our brain changes state in reaction to its perception of reality and any external changes of state in that environment. It can then "read" that stored information, which is basically encoded data that cognition can use in order to function and learn. This feels like the past, because the brain is (perhaps) an infitesimal moment or step behind in its reconfiguration in response to its perceptions. We are dealing with a constantly lagged existence. The brain, I guess, can only extrapolate its responses to present states with the information it already possesses. It simulates future perceivable states by considering and discerning how patterns emerged from its past experience. I guess the brain anticipates states it must reconfigure itself into, in order to be prepared for the present.

I often wonder, not without a little anxiety, how our perceptions will change, should a future state of being allow us to escape the fetters of temporal perception. Will we recognize ourselves and everything around us?

The sheer unprecedented fact that I exist is the step I can't seem to get past. That the moment I'm in allows for me to be in it, turns my mind in circles. If we might have a "future" existence where time is a useless perceptual habit, why do we bother with a temporal one in the first place? The two don't seem to offer the other any benefit in dealing with it.

I guess I have the lingering belief that time allows us space to grow. See how time and space help each other out there? The matter in which our cognition and perception resides would not be configurable by any other means than a gradual superimposition of state over state, configuring in response to environment. We are simply hindered by the speed in which we are able to configure and in which our environment gives us incentive or direction to progress. All our answers and insights arrive according the schedule they keep, depending entirely if your ride has reached that right location or not. We don't know the things we don't know, because we can't. We'll know everything that we'll know, when we know it, because we can (or will).

Now, if you truly think in similar pathways as I do, then you might have the same apprehensions and puzzlements that I do. This sort of revelation is apparently not a new one. It's an experience shared by humanity. That's comforting, I guess. It's also a little frustrating, since an equal number of people operate on assumed realities that seems to conflict with those of us that operate on not assuming anything. (Or endeavor to try to assume less and less, without prior discovery.) Then things turn inward and ask, "So, if it's a shared experience, and most people don't care, or really can't do much to help you better than you can help yourself, why ever mention it? What good does talking about it do, anyway? What good is there in writing it? Shouldn't we just be DOING it, because that is what produces results?"

I believe it is a common truth that children often disregard the advice of their parents. Why? Because they think their experience and needs are entirely unique and no one else, least of all a parent, could ever understand. When your own kids come along, doors on both ends of the corridor open up to reveal the connected experience. You view how you thought of your parents by how your kids treat you. One of those, "Oh yeah! I get it now!" moments. Moving on to grandparenthood, that revelation is old news, and we probably learn how the universe continues on in its own way without any further input from us.

So...yeah.

Mat_S
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Re: Writing space isn't space writing.

Postby Mat_S » Fri Sep 24, 2010 11:41 am


Buttered_Toast
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Re: Writing space isn't space writing.

Postby Buttered_Toast » Fri Sep 24, 2010 7:17 pm

Yeah; food for thought apparently operates by the speed of appetite. You can chew and chew and chew, but eventually you end up full for a while, until the hunger begins to gnaw at you anew. (Completely aside to the main line of this "conversation" -- I don't think it's coincidental that analogies can be formed with different aspects of reality and experience. Such as my smarmy "hunger" reference. Hunger can have so many different aspects and subjects. Either it is a function of the language or else some other complex thought this many beers prevents me from comprehending at the moment. No... I'm not inebriated, but I have, uh, lower tolerance for redundancy of thought to ponder too long on details.  The fact we can use analogies to produce imagery to explain other phenomena could bespeak a bit as to how physical reality shadows cognitive reality, and vice versa...maybe.  I suppose that's a little ambiguous, sorry.) Ironically, it seems the tighter I think my grip on reality becomes, the more unreal everything appears. Also, in contradiction to productive thinking, the contemplation of reality and its almost absurd ..."realness" hinders my desire to write. I mean, reality is such an unthinkable phenomenon that writing about fantasy seems sorta trite. Writing about it also seems like a cheat to not participate in it. This self-devouring, Orobos-like mentality is certainly self-defeating. I suppose the ultimate beauty of reality is that it is able to operate whether or not you understand it. If it did require our utmost understanding, well, we'd be pretty [censored], right?

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sns3guppy
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RE: Writing space isn't space writing.

Postby sns3guppy » Wed Sep 29, 2010 6:38 am

Time. There's a useless concept. Unless one has a meeting to attend, or four minutes to restore breathing, or something critical and temporary in nature. That's all time is, and all we are. Temporary.

Time lays out like a highway, all before us, but not all in our sight at any given time. Cars progress down the highway; we're in some of the cars. Someone viewing the entire road sees the beginning and the end, but trapped in our little insular box; we see the road ahead of us, and what's in the rear view mirror. If we bothered to capture a part of the road we've already seen, we have a photograph to prove it exists; a shred of evidence of what has gone before and of a path we may never pass by again. That's just fine.

We may not see the bends in the road, or where the highway ends, or the detours, but we can rest assured it's there. We're given time as a gift; like giving an aimless person a daytimer to help organize the day. Time gives us baby steps. Practically speaking, tomorrow hasn't been created yet, and tomorrow became vapor as it passed behind. All there is, is now. Now is like here. It's not time, it's not space. It's just this.

Reality is a sunburn. Reality is temporary, always. Of course we existed before, just as we exist now, and as we'll exist later. We hike, our necks burn in the sun. Later the skin peels and we throw it away, much like we live in this sphere for a short time, and then lay our body in the ground, or see it vaporized in a rocket attack, car crash, or rot away to cancer. Then we move on. Our writing then, is the perspective of the peeling skin; it's the perspective of one of the many blind men feeling the elephant. We're blinded by time.

This lifetime is little more than a waystop; a classroom. It's the playground. Time is the way we know when we are to return to class, or released to go home; it's a tool, but little more. It's important to us now, but not terribly important before or after our moment in the sun. We no more cease to exist at death than we ceased to exist when we came here. Sometimes we take ourselves far too seriously. We trifle, we learn what we can, and so often not by our own choice, we move on to apply the lessons we have learned here at whatever level we have been able to achieve during our all-too-brief stay.

Some ask "how could you learn such things," and to them I can only say "read it on the back of a leaf." They walk away, a question mark hanging in the air to mark their old spot, in space and time.

On the back of a leaf? A dead one, preferably. One that's already left the classroom; the leaf remains as notes taken while in class. Lay it down for the space of a winter and come back; the skeleton is revealed, and in it a fantastically precise, clear evidence that nothing is random. Words aren't written there, but the sure evidence of a much larger, much more grand design that reminds us that we're on the same path, and that we're no accident. Neither is time. To me, that leaf becomes like a bible; a holy writ of evidence compiled into such a small space that took the lifetime of the leaf to create, and which stands as a testament to our progression, along with a billion other nearly-identical leaves.

Writing space isn't anything more than the space in which we write. Space isn't ours; it's a moment on the highway. Mine at this very moment is a hotel room in New Jersey. In a day I'll be somewhere in the middle east, where I'll write some more. Tonight I'll take off from Newark, NJ, and fly north, and then east. Night will come faster for me, as I fly away from the setting sun, and it will be back up in three hours and rising again. A forced sunrise, time beaten handily at it's own game. In several days, I'll be back here again, having slipped around the world once more. It's a big place, but not that big, and time doesn't begin here, nor does it end. This is a rest-stop on the highway, but that's all. Learn what we can, take what we can, leave what we can, and enjoy the drive. We won't pass this way again.

Palisade1218
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Re: Writing space isn't space writing.

Postby Palisade1218 » Mon Oct 04, 2010 2:12 pm

Yeah. I've taken shrooms, too...

Buttered_Toast
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Re: Writing space isn't space writing.

Postby Buttered_Toast » Mon Oct 04, 2010 3:15 pm

That's alright, as long as they were yours to begin with. >_<

Palisade1218
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Re: Writing space isn't space writing.

Postby Palisade1218 » Mon Oct 04, 2010 10:38 pm

Yeeeeeeah. About that ;) At any rate, time was definitely subjective at that point.

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