An ode to the unraveling knot.
Writing is a journey - a collection of snapshots - an expression of the inner experience - a reflection of one's place in time - a momentary flash of eternity. Writing points to many things that exist beyond anything written. Writing is metaphor.
During the past year, I have experimented with thought and form through writing, seeking to express an unfolding process as one observes the loosening of a knot tied by eons of affliction. But it is how the knot becomes untied that writing serves me.
Is it not the knot that unties itself? The knot cares not how it was tied, simply that it exists as the knot that it is. When the knot no longer has substance to which it is tied, its bonds tend to dissolve within their own fading sense of purpose. It is ironic that when force is applied toward the deliberate loosening of said knot, its bonds tend to tighten as a function of the force applied, much like the Chinese finger trap.
What I describe here is the Gordian knot. No force of ingenuity untied the knot; only the stroke of the sword, sharp like Occam's Razor, released its grip upon the addled mind of the would-be king. And the writings, page after page of preponderance, do little to loosen any such knot. They only serve to document the many twists and turns, folds and coils, reticulations and convolutions of an ever-complicated sense of reality.
The inner experience is in a constant state of completion, as a story in the midst of its denouement, yet open to the spontaneous plot twist. The knot is in a constant state of unraveling, and always subject to the stroke of the sword, yet it remains tied to hold fast that which seeks not to be released.
Beyond the knot, its composition of fibers and the friction that maintains its configuration, is the space between – the infinitesimal nothingness to which all things regress. To the space between, all things are material conditional, bound to the laws of thermodynamics. But within the space of nothingness, there are no laws – no tendencies, yearning nor ambition – no rationale, no raison d'etre – only the peace of quiet, complete emptiness.
What does it mean to be truly complete – the single point of light amidst the timeless moment? Knot a thing…
J
During the past year, I have experimented with thought and form through writing, seeking to express an unfolding process as one observes the loosening of a knot tied by eons of affliction. But it is how the knot becomes untied that writing serves me.
Is it not the knot that unties itself? The knot cares not how it was tied, simply that it exists as the knot that it is. When the knot no longer has substance to which it is tied, its bonds tend to dissolve within their own fading sense of purpose. It is ironic that when force is applied toward the deliberate loosening of said knot, its bonds tend to tighten as a function of the force applied, much like the Chinese finger trap.
What I describe here is the Gordian knot. No force of ingenuity untied the knot; only the stroke of the sword, sharp like Occam's Razor, released its grip upon the addled mind of the would-be king. And the writings, page after page of preponderance, do little to loosen any such knot. They only serve to document the many twists and turns, folds and coils, reticulations and convolutions of an ever-complicated sense of reality.
The inner experience is in a constant state of completion, as a story in the midst of its denouement, yet open to the spontaneous plot twist. The knot is in a constant state of unraveling, and always subject to the stroke of the sword, yet it remains tied to hold fast that which seeks not to be released.
Beyond the knot, its composition of fibers and the friction that maintains its configuration, is the space between – the infinitesimal nothingness to which all things regress. To the space between, all things are material conditional, bound to the laws of thermodynamics. But within the space of nothingness, there are no laws – no tendencies, yearning nor ambition – no rationale, no raison d'etre – only the peace of quiet, complete emptiness.
What does it mean to be truly complete – the single point of light amidst the timeless moment? Knot a thing…
J
****
posted by |JZIM| @ 10/06/2006
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