Pilachi_Sketch [ BLOG ]

By a seemingly strange sequence of events, I have found the way to release obsession: face it.

You see, for me it is hard to tell what is real and what is imagined; because my dreams are interactive. Usually, as is the case with my writing, I am narrator and participant and observer. There is usually an opportunity to question the outcome and to see what happens based on a series of finite choices or events. More often than not, this involves flying high above the landscape and seeing the world from way above the clouds.

The cues are visual… a colour usually; an object; a detail that is distinctive. It is as though in my mental landscape, I am leaving clues for myself to find in my waking existence; almost as though I am trying to help myself to heal.

The dreams I have are so incredibly vivid and they project years of activity before these years of activity come to pass; to this end, I know I am supposed to write a theory to debunk the divergent influences of Einstein’s theory of relativity and the various permutations of string theory… and all of this I know because of these dreams.

They are conversations more often than dreams: conversations with my subconscious self; for there is no personified way to describe it other than an interaction with answers to open questions.

I knew that I was to find the proof to solve the error in the Vitruvian man by DaVinci. It revealed itself ten years ago; and I have not really made much of an effort to flog this around the world. I told a few people, but they all thought I was crazy. Lest this question of sanity come into question again… the proof lies in an eight pointed cannon, based on the asscending sequence of numbers in the fibonacci series. This was also stumbled upon by Le Corbusier in one of his lesser known sketches; it is a map of infinity: and I had Dawn Scott embed it in the floor at Island Village in Jamaica… just so in 20 years when I realize it, the proof, like this writing, will exist somewhere.

It has also been placed in noteworthy religious architecture (rose windows). The proof is revealed by understanding the divisions of the body (eight points from top to bottom… three from center to end, overlapping to create a ration of 5:8 of a haman being with outstretched arms. But that is not the point.

The point is, I have never trusted myself enough to believe that any of these things would ever come to pass… and the things that I have seen, that I have not wanted to come to pass, I have feared tremendously.

What I do know is this… the Juggler is the proof of the theorem. Time is a meandering continuum, created by man as a finite construct, to understand the formless notion of space. The Juggler uses space and time to systematically avoid collisions in his operations.

Norbert Weiner—the father of cybernetics—in his early days of designing weapon systems for World War Germany (I or II I cant remember)…. tried to design an object seeking weapon system that would allow a missile to predict the future position in space and time, of a projectile and its intended target. With modern heat seeking missiles this all seems quite banal; however if the basic paradigm is reduced to a concept rather than the current proof which is based on material properties (ie seek heat rather than object in space)… then the basic problem which man has struggled with for ages, comes to pass.

How do you predict the collision of two objects at a future point in time? The juggler knows.

In my dreams, I am the juggler [just as in writing or in drawing or in dance] I wield objects for the very sake of wielding, rather than the focus on the objects themselves. And yes, people are objects: abstract constructs.

For the past ten years I have written down almost every single waking thought. I have a series of sketchbooks for every single month of life, with every record of every conversation and almost every interaction carefully documented in print. For ten years before that, I would paint… and by painting, I would not document things that i saw, but rather, I would see things that had not yet been documented… primarily emotions that helped me to unlock my waking existence.

So what is the point of all of this? The juggler knows and must trust that he knows if he is to be an effective juggler. He cannot be conscious of the placement of his hand on the ball; nor worry that the balls will or will not collide; for art is never left to chance of fate. Art is a disciplined understanding of confluence.

In other words… the juggler knows that each ball in space and time, will be at the exact location that it needs to be, in order for the successful completion of the routine. The sequencing, flow, organization, physical manifestation…. all of the patterns can change… the point is… the flow must continue.

That still is not clear.

So an example… I read a sketchbook last night, written eight years ago. In this sketchbook I described a passing dream in which I undergo a ritual that I do not understand with someone I had not met (she looked mediteranian) and being profoundly confused by the interaction… quite frankly, not knowing what the hell was going on. Well, I know now what that means… because I found this sketchbook.

It is like playing pictionary with myself.

In the sketchbook, I documented a dream from 27th May 2000. In this dream I was a part of a ceremony of sorts… a tribal ceremony with many people. In this ceremony there was a young lady with her hair wrapped up behind her head… it was the only visual signifier of who she was. The details are not important at this point. What is important is… I forgot about the dream… read the book at the exact time that I needed to, to identify the location of this ritual… an orange room. This detail I only found yesterday.

Yesterday, having been in a place called Remas for perhaps four consecutive weekends, having been encouraged to go on many occasions, and never ever actually making it to this place… I have been there and have felt confused about my role there. Each week I grew more and more confused until yesterday… when I read in my sketchbook… and saw that there would be an unspoken ritual taking place, which involved a girl, her mother and a person I described as Kysha [from philly at the time... I was in Philly making peace with ex girlfriends... she was another visual cue]… Kysha will chose you, and that will end the ritual… you will not learn what you are supposed to [again I paraphrase].

The point is… I did learn the lesson. It is about obsession… I am obsessed with the confusing swirl of emotions I experience because I know places and people before I get there… and in my whirlwind confusion I do not know what to do with that… and I feel the energy of people very intensely… I almost know their pain more intimately than they do… and for the people who trust me, the relationships we have are incredible [relationship defined primarily as sustainable friendships]. In some instances, I also know their purpose… or a vital ingredient of their actualization.

The young lady I met is “Changing Woman” a spiritual icon from Native American culture. She does not know it; but she is.

I had to describe the elements of my dream, the things that I did not understand in my dream, it said [changed person... she explained the significance], for her to describe to me her knowledge of Native culture. The mother from the dream is her older sister [who like my older sister, has been her mother also]; the Kysha character, is her friend. My role is to identify this intense spirituality, and convey it to her in terms that she… and perhaps for her own sake, she alone, understands [even if I do not understand them].

The four pointed spear from my recent dream, which was actually a crop circle revealed in a wheat field (or some other yellow field]… she said is the symbol of the “pawnee tribe” Her very close friend wears this amulet around his neck. Perhaps she is to marry him… and have these spiritually endowed children; because I have also seen that she will have very spiritually endowed children; that it is her destiny to do so.

The point of all of this is… by writing all of this down eight years ago this month, I know that I am not crazy.

I am a practicing juggler who is learning how to come to terms with who he is.

I do not care if you think I am crazy… I do not care if i actually am.

It was revealed to my sister that she is descended from a long line of spiritual healers (leaders / visioneers)… who are guided directly by the ancestors, in the yuruba faith (from the line of my mother)… and quite significantly, I know this to be so. I am not afraid of what I feel.

I am not afraid of it anymore.