Tag: essence

Fate and Façade

~ quantumdreamer ~ Leave a comment

A while back I wrote and entire blog around the notion of façade. It was called “Spiegelfassade”. The idea being is that people portray a façade, a persona, an ersatz, to others and then hide behind that. Rarely are human beings WYSWYG. They live in manner inconsistent with their authentic essence, life is a show-and-tell affair and they are not true. The public-relations-faux-façade is more present and giga-pixel ready these days. Insta-ready is not reality. One could make up a whole new identity with the help of AI and photoshop. This having a cover story is not new, it has been around for ever. There is tacit acceptance that some will need a cover in order to ply their trade. Others can take a face from the ancient gallery in a sociopathic manner. Others are knobheads.

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The trouble with cover stories is that people can struggle to know what is cover, what is real. There were cases in the UK of undercover cops fathering children whilst in deep cover. Who knows how wide the psychological damage from that propagated? I doubt national security warranted such cynical imposition.

Last night as I was drifting off to sleep, I kept “getting” the number 37. Today I learned that 37 is a prime number, which I kind of knew anyway by sight. Apparently, that makes it useful for cryptography. If you ask human beings to pick a number at random between 1 and 100 it is the second most popular number after 7. Human random number generators are skewed. It is also a number used in a magician’s or mind reader’s force. They can, by prompting, guide you to this number. Ta-dah…magic!! 73 is also a prime number which makes 37 an unusual reversible prime. People choose numbers that are “lucky”. The odds for picking 37 are not 1 in 100. Humans have biases where they imagine there may be none.

The problem comes when façade interacts with façade and there is an illusion of reality on one or both sides. To an extent this is the basis of all 1:1 human interactions. We have a professional façade, a home one and perhaps are real only when we are alone. But if we have over egged the façade, it is impossible to understand or know our true authentic essence. People do not know themselves well and may deny a whole bunch of stuff. They may only know their shell, their façade, which they mistake for reality.

One of the answers in the University Challenge quiz last night was that “an unexamined life is not worth living”. People can quote philosophers in an erudite manner as a groovy tag to conversation. Rarely do they enact fully. Even those enamoured with the classics may quote more than do. We are selective. In this context fate is an interesting idea, that has on occasion a hackle tingling effect. We might like to believe it but only to an extent. We think we determine our life direction rationally, we choose. But a simple leaky condom can alter trajectory dramatically. We can be fated to meet someone who changes our life forever. We may miss a meeting that might be transformational by a hair’s breadth. We were not yet fated for that transformation; we came within a whisker.

If we live within the confines of our façade we may never know. If we are meant to find out, that façade might crack and perhaps violently so, revealing an unprotected nascent embryo beneath. It may evolve or develop another calcified shell quickly, lest the world sees an emperor unclad.

In all of us the authentic essence might leak through a crack. We might think, “what the fuck was that?” as we glue the porcelain mask quickly back together.

If like a Matryoshka doll there is façade after façade, identity after identity, it may take a long while to find that authentic essence. If we are fated to approach said essence then we will, no matter how much upheaval and struggle it entails. Layer after layer needs peeled back and like with onions we may cry along the way. If we are fated to stay in façade-land that is where we eke out our days.

Fate may engineer or come close, in one of these cases we will never know. Along the way we will have lent fate a hand by our choices, our decisions. It was fated thus.

Sanitized Anodyne Clone-World Dream 25-06-2025

~ quantumdreamer ~ Leave a comment

Here is this morning’s dream from around 5 AM.

The dream opens in a vast underground complex under a dome like roof. It is overly bright, lightened in a stark LED high temperature way. There are no plants. I can see two gatherings of people. These are of the “currents” and the “futures”. There is no luxury only a sense of sanitized, anodyne, air-brushed even. There is no fecundity.

The “currents” are older than the “futures”. They are more organised. They comprise solely white caucasians both male and female. They belong to three groups and are dressed accordingly. They are wearing V-necked medical scrubs type garments with white long sleeved t-shirts underneath. The white sleeves protrude from under the short sleeved gown arms. The dress is either mid-dark pastel blue, fuchsia pastel Rhodamine pink or a shade of deep pastel yellow. They all have fresh haircuts. The men are clean shaven and the women all sport pony tails. They are late twenties early thirties and relatively physically without flaws. People each belong to one “caste”. The sense of quasi-androgynous infertility pervades, though the genders are clear. There is some ceremony test or ritual about to take place, for the “futures” to progress.

I find myself in the group of “futures” who are all slightly younger and similarly adorned. Someone gets up on a stage to initiate proceedings. They will be subjected to a test in pairs. There is a simulation, a business game, which they have to participate in. This has been outside of their schooling to date and is a rite of passage into the “currents”. There is an air of anxiety about the test. They are all young relatively beautiful, flaw free and expectant.

I am paired with a young woman with dark hair dressed in Rhodamine pink. I am many thousands of years older than anyone else in the simulation. I cannot see my form but I know that I am very physically handicapped compared to others. The woman is a little disgruntled to be saddled with me. I explain to her that I know the game, the simulation, inside out, because I helped to write it and am aware ahead of time of all the pressure points. We can use intelligence. The game starts and we go to a “market” store to collect materials. It is run by some “currents”. The others are all running around to other stores. We collect the critical materials first and head off to our prep station.

As we leave the store there are some know-it-all “futures” hurrying about. I am in their way and cannot move quickly enough to get out of it. They gesture threateningly towards me to get out of their trajectory. I remain unmoved. A young man runs at me with intent. He hits into me and bounces off with enhanced momentum. I am unmoved and unhurt. He is sprawled on the floor and bruised. He is complaining of his aches. He is perplexed that a cripple like me is so fixed and heavy and immovable. Over the thousands of years I have met many like him. I know his type. I have the weight of time accrued and accumulated. That time is near primordial in essence.

His female partner helps him get up and dust himself off. She looks at him with disdain and at me with a curiosity and unfamiliarity. She has not met anything like me, before.

The dream ends.

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Note: We have begun watching the TV series “humans” in which a family has a new female synth or android in their house, a very human like “robot”. Some of the synths are exhibiting non machine intelligence or in other words life.

Inside a Boomer and Assumptions

~ quantumdreamer ~ Leave a comment

A while back when we were trying to sell our house the young estate agent commented that we had loads of DVDs just like his parents. They were umbilically connected to their devices. Their default was to use a search engine instead of think. As an old git I can comment that they had no inkling as to what may or may not be inside a boomer, what that essence may be.

Around 40 years ago at Durham University, during a conference on high resolution spectroscopy of van der Waals molecules, I gave my first oral presentation concerning the paper-worthy results from my first year experiments. It was a tad precocious to speak amongst all those professors dressed in my black ripped 501s with buckled suede Doctor Martens, a short spikey flat top haircut and a Smiths t-shirt.

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My moderate hangover had to be negotiated. I made no mistakes and the talk went well. Later that evening I was “chatted up” by various profs perhaps looking to recruit in due course. My punk “fuck you” attitude was reeled in.

To use the time honoured phrase, the youth of today have no idea what it was like back then. How protest and rebellion were a rite of passage. People do not expect residual punk attitude. I was soon to become an evangelical vegan at that time. Meat is murder!

Last night we watched a short documentary on the Smiths who provided a sound track to various aspects of life, including my mid-nineties depression. “Heaven knows I am miserable now…”

People make shed loads of assumptions; they always have and they always will. There is an expression that “assumptions are the mother of all cock-ups”. {and clusterfucks} I have extended the vernacular so that it is up to date.

Even when people know that making assumptions is foolhardy, it seems that they simply cannot resist making them and assuming their accuracy and applicability. Checking assumptions is for many an anathema. People will assume how others might behave, what they will do.

My mother when asked to come to my second wedding said that it was too far away and difficult for her to come. My assumption was that her assumption was that she would be cajoled into coming.  After sufficient cajoling she would yield as if she was doing us the greatest favour in the entire world. Instead, I said OK fine and left it at that. She may have been waiting for me to change my mind and start cajoling. I did not. The wedding went ahead without us having to cater to her insatiable drama queen tendencies.

Sometimes assumptions can backfire “biggly” to quote Herr Trump.

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One of the assumptions in our modern day is that everyone is contactable, that they have contact details and because of the fear of missing out, they will never be incommunicado. People are eternally at “beck and call”. When I say that I do not use ‘phones people do not believe me. They think I mean “much” but I don’t. My mobile has had two calls in six months both of them test calls by the wife. Someone once said to me, that if I had any questions, I could call them. He may have imagined that I might. I “filed” his card without even looking at it…In my mind we would never speak again.

I suspect that in a cross generational sense we do not understand nor appreciate the difference in essence. Even within a generation a beige or a plastic may not get a goth, a punk or an indie. As part rasta in orientation I may not subscribe to the 80s “Wolf of Wall Street”. When I sat in the board room at Fleming Family and Partners in Dover Street Mayfair to discuss million pound funding deals none of the suits knew where I was coming from, nor did they care overmuch.

It is funny your true colours are on the inside and not the outside.

Eight Tibetan Houses (seats) Dream 19-02-2025

~ quantumdreamer ~ 1 Comment

This came after we watched a documentary on how China is changing Tibet, making it more Han Chinese.

The dream starts in South or Southeastern Tibet. There is a sense of Shigatze. I can see on a map eight Tibetan houses or seats. They have terracotta roofs and although they appear as houses, I know that they are seats, monasteries, in the sense of high lama thrones. They are linked to lineages and are the bricks and mortar, the physicality. I collect them in a sense. I coral them in my non-physical arms. I am wearing magenta and saffron Buddhist robes.

The scene changes and I can see the same eight locations but now I am seeing the spirit, the ethos, the essence of these “houses”. It is the near indelible mark of the spirit of these places, how they have energized the world.

I wake briefly.

I am back looking at the map of Tibet. Again, I can see these eight centres, only now I can see history, lineage stretching back over centuries. This is the past, the lineage which has been cultivated in time and through time.

I wake briefly.

I am back again looking at the map with these eight houses highlighted. Now I can see mind, mind-stream and even the awareness or consciousness associated with these centres. I sense in the dream that this represents future in that the centres live not necessarily physically but in the mind-stream, the Buddha field.

As I awake, I joke to myself that is must be weird Wednesday as opposed to freaky Friday.