Posts Tagged ‘Perspective’

Synthetic Sentiment 2.1

February 3, 2017

cant-get-along

Anxiety is something I deal with on a daily basis. Okay, I’ll be honest, it’s more like I avoid it on a daily basis. I mention this because we now live in a time of accessible yet often confusing communication. Anxiety is one of those things that those who suffer have a hard time convincing those who don’t exactly what it is, yet access to attempt communicating it is infinite.

Communication is instantaneous today, obviously, yet flawed in it’s impressionability; lacking in the whole of it’s sum parts; inelegant; deprived. But, plugged-in every nano second of the day, we can instantly be affected by media, opinion, and facts that fall directly in line with our own belief systems, or what we believe those are. And that’s a problem.

Let me explain…

Many entities in our world like seek out our behavior in every day life. They entice our buying behavior, sleep patterns, and driving routes. They graph and chart our analytics and deliver us exactly what we want, when and how we want it. Every day. So, we don’t have to explore outward to terribly much. When we think that we are, we don’t even realize it was fed to us. We just follow whatever they dangle just within reach.

There is no mystery, and we don’t dig deep enough to get past those planted desires and desperations. When we consume important information we no longer examine it, we offer little perspective in processing that material. The worst of all, our brains have been programmed to believe this binary perversion is a matter of our existence. Our survival mechanisms kick in at the drop of a hashtag.

I’m not saying anyone is stupid. It isn’t something must of us are even realizing as time and responsibilities transpire, each of us believe we are doing “our” thing, maintaining our own lives. We have lost our ability to zoom out and look at things with a wider lens, and even the things we do to “help” are really just us doing something for ourselves.

This doesn’t mean every effort is futile, it’s just become very hard to discern what is a cause and what is marketing. Maybe they have merged together, but we hardly have the time let alone the tools to dismantle it all. There is so much information it’s like the whole of civilization is committing a giant file dump just to keep us stuck in contention. We are at odds with mass-produced, synthetic sentiment.

Even if it isn’t by design, it’s really quite sinister. But, what if we began realizing it? Our communication has always been evolving after all, systems fail over time. These systems are then replaced. What if we began choosing that change on our own? We could change the narrative and start writing our own which opens up depth locked within us and expands our perceptions of the world outside.

To be continued…

Umbra

February 3, 2017

concentric-cirles

Light scattered across the room , bouncing off bits and pieces of broken glass. The light rippled over the explosion of silent shards as it’s beam searched out something in the darkness. A circle inside a circle crawling slowly across the ransacked room. It undulated over the peaks and valleys of furniture and strewn decorative elements.

Trekking, it happened upon a wall enlivening framed photos left askew, dangling still. It moved upward finding a multitude of linear umbra darting across the crown molding, rising and turning as the radiance swept by. The shadows, folding into thin lines, suddenly began to widen and consume the the embellishment whole.

The aureole moved onward clambering playfully upon mutilated house plants and an untidy record collection. Black shiny splotches here and there reflected back a hello to the gushing beam, “Here I am.” It said. “Look at me,” flashy and obtruding – yet the light moved on confidently to a row of metal drawers all outrageously unfurled; unexciting.

Making a turn like the hook of a “J” but backwards, the halo was briefly erratic and all at once frozen in place. A shiny black finger painting was skittering gently in the concentric, slightly wobbling beam. It’s message was cryptic, yet defined. Minimalist. Nagging. The light knew it should bore deeper, but had not the fortitude to halt an additional beat.

The light proceeded. It heaved it’s way up and over. Fanatical translucent drapes kicked it around failing to engross the lights interest. It brimmed and unburdened each shape and satiny melancholy on it’s thoroughfare, thoroughly apathetic.

“POP!” The sound of glass exploding, the light flicked across the razed room of uninteresting chaos, to a new reflection pond of remnant glass, and paused. Now here was something consequential, something relevant. The circles were suddenly sentimental and attentive. They lingered. “Here it is!” they exclaimed.


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