tempted by fate

Do you press on the threads of fate?

I am unsure what these are, but I recognize my quiet entrapment in incidental matters. It's an unavoidable consequence of our thinking as means of 'fixing' time, fastening it to a context, while the rest of the world continually challenges this assumption. Certainty is our mode of reasoning. That which is certain can be done again and again, neuroconsolidation. Repetitive behaviors. We become unstuck in time culture provides us with a will have had-ness, which adds a hermeneutic sheen to our relations. We see it and lose track of the reality fragment. We are driven by our genre commitments to our own hermeneutic sheen. I already know you is what culture provides. Do people actually act according to a presumed entity that they'd wish to represent them.

Communication challenges authenticity. It is our cultural condition; we can only pray for madness as a means of escaping it. Communication is the symptom of our universe. Culture has depth, wisdom. It is bigger than us. We concede to its given-ness; we embrace the oceanic sense of being there as being there, and marvel at how a word we use hides the meaning of the object that it describes. Strange really that we fool ourselves right at that crease where word and thing collide.

Because of its depth and complexity. Because of our situatedness within it that standpoint which provides us with a loading program for reality; we cannot escape it. What are its intentions? I can only suspect that it is an alien entity. The language is a false consciousness. It is more genre commitment than program for living freely. We concede to its rules. How real is it? I cannot fathom this question. I only believe that which repeats itself. Does our nervous matter require this form of stimulation?

Our sense of existence is epiphenomenal, merely incidental. It is the accomplishment of a reflexive circuit of motor neurons. The logic of three dimensional space. The logic of off and on circuits. The logic of amplitude modulation. These are the things which comprise thinking--the bare matter of existence. What's missing is a world, a world that these parts call home. A world that causes these parts to spin and whirl and spin off configurations that fix meaning in that world. Strange when you lay it out to its bare essence. Is that it?

That's it. And here's the rub. Our thinking mechanism requires it. It's nature dictates the background to our reality, and its formalities. Why do the old remember their youth? What makes early formed memories more resilient? I shouldn't ask these questions willy-nilly. This has been studied. I'm lost in the ether, regarding myself as a thing and as a such.

Strange that we don't trust the media through which we know the world. Is the medium really there? Communication is a symptom of cultural activity, its politics, its social organization, its way of being. We manifest these symptoms as we negotiate our self with the dictates of a group through which we realize much of our living. We work. We marry. We join clubs. We play sports. We visit family. We are of a group. Yet we are separate of the group. We identify with ourselves, and we identify with a group. That's the wrinkle, which causes the logic to come out broken, perchance to fool us into believing fate or believing in free will. It's broken and that's how realize the logic of existence.