Dissolution

It’s rare that I find myself in such a state, one that asks of my mind of nothing else but the quiet of nothingness, of emptiness. And yet here I am, bearing thoughts of nothing at all, of everything being nothing, of unimportance and the deceiving nature of reality itself. It’s rather disquieting, unlike what I sought. And yet, I keep on thinking of this nothingness, of the emptiness of space, time, and unimportance of thoughts such as these. Is thinking of nothing really nothing?

A paradox really.

But it is these paradoxes that makes our brains circulate and go out of loop – pushes us towards imagination. If you remember my past article, the one about everything being a cycle, then imagine us not wanting to be in a cycle. The will to escape, if you will. In that way, consider a big circle. Big enough to be in front of you, small enough to fit inside your field of view. A ball is circulating in the line of this big circle, as if being a car in a Nascar ring racetrack. Going faster or slower, wobbling perhaps but never going out of bounds. The speed of the car, of the thought, depends on the speed at which the person thinks. Its intelligence, if you will. Regardless, in my mind, imagination is when this little think-car would loop around so many times, so many boring times, that at one moment, while the car usually just took the endless left turn in the anti-clockwise cycle, it pulled its wheel to the right.

Imagination. Thinking outside the box, breaking the cycle and creating another. Now the ever counter-clockwise thought is treading a new road, this time in another place, another time, clockwise.

Outsiders would think that this is an abomination, or a stroke of genius – you name it. I call it as I think I should: an idea. Tangent to the cycle of old, always passing through that same point the thought veered off at, this new cycle holds on to the other one as a memory. Always cycles.

Amazing thing, paradoxes. Oddly, we all run in circles, swimming by and through the loops of paradoxes.

That’s why I can’t think of nothing. Every time I try, I clear the sheet for yet another thought, which if said thought is nothing, it would just clean it again – like the refresh button in the Windows system you are standing in front of, maybe. Or maybe just like you.

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