Spreading the load
We modern humans like the one thing. The event, the singularity, the god, and many more of those small focal points. Putting a pin in it to stop the thing from moving. From escaping, slipping away. The single dot on the horizon helps to navigate clearly. It’s the goal. The ever present - accepted as totally normal - goal. We pick it, stick to it, struggle with it, believe in it, unite under it. We must have it. Nothing much will be accomplished if not done with a goal. It matters not much what the goal is by the way. As long as you don’t let go you’ll have direction and purpose. Right?
Well....maybe not so much. The hold it brings is an illusion. No matter what is at the end of that projected rainbow. Or at the center of your attention. The fixed point is a drifting buoy. A swimming island. A planet spinning. A river wandering.
Its a trick. Magic. Manifestation. Kidding ourselves to get what we wish. It works, I know, but it’s weird as hell at the same time. Especially long term goals. We pretend to know where we are going. Or avoid where we do not want to end up. As if we know either. And why is it so important to know where we want to go, and when we will get there, and what the wallpaper is like in the second bedroom?
It is our beacon. Our one navigational reference point. Our hold. And that needs to be clear. Familiar. Known. So the goal is removing the unknown, the unfamiliar, the other. Anything that distracts. We love our delusional landmark.
Is there no hold then? Nothing to clamp our claws in? Yes there is. But we do need to up our navigational skills for that. No more onesies. Because it’s not ‘a one thing’ that determines the outcome.
That far mountain peak may seem a good orientation point, but on its own it doesn’t tell you much. We need to know our own position. Just moving toward the (shared) point is a weird kind of direction. It ends us all on the same big heap. No matter the quality of the arguments, the data presented, or the brightness of the scientific headlights leading the way.
You have a goal of your own and its called purpose. Navigation and perspective are personal. Direction is not just an external force. Seems like a small remark but nothing is further from the truth. A staggering amount of energy has been put in to convince you of the opposite. Navigation, perspective and direction have been stolen from you and your parents and their parents by any means available for at least a couple of millennia. You have been handed a point. A god, a narrative, proof, prophesies, clocks, currency, kings and popes. And they hope to give you one large language model. All aligned to the navigational one. Everyone united inside the ideal perspective. Pure sustainobility, not a typo. And it’s not a thing of the past. A tightly organised system does not tolerate any unknown factors. Governing sounds good, in practice it is no less than eliminating the unwanted, the unfamiliar, the unexpected, the unpredictable, the not up to standard, the less than perfect.
This force comes along, with no exception, with the claim that purpose needs to be earned. Hence the emphasis on goals and high standards. They say purpose is over there, not here. Many different ways to obtain this reward have been advocated. The ways may have been valid, the one reason not.
Lies. That’s what they are. Sometimes intended, sometimes unconsciously generated copies of how we are doing things around here. Putting the knowledge and the skills to heal behind a paywall? Are you f.... kidding me?
Here’s my one thing that can safe the world. The one big mistake we make again and again. Even while imagining the impending apocalypse we do it. We assume we are in the same place at the same moment. We are all in this together right? Going out with a big kaboom. I don’t think we are. The universe is ultimately one, yes, I wholeheartedly agree. The universe has also some stubborn tricks up its sleeves. It spreads the load. A sneaky primary. Hidden by default because no one seeking power will voluntarily admit it is not their doing that does it. It never was, it never will be. It is the ultimate unplugging of the power cord. The unbinding of the magic spell. Are we disenchanted? I don’t think so. We are more enchanted than ever. Mesmerised to oblivion, that’s what we are.
Look around and seek where spreading messes up the one game we try to impose. How undeniably true this little truth is. We do not wake up all at the same time. The sun slides over the planet spreading the day evenly over the whole sandwich. And guess what, in a very efficient mode it spreads nighttime in the same swoop. In one go it is always sunrise and always sunset. And it is ultimately unpinnable. Even mr. Hood won’t hit that mark. We haven’t popped out at the same instant. What a scary moment that would have been. What a shortage of midwives, what collective fatherhood trauma, what stress on the diaper market. Unimaginable. No we spread our birthing and dying. As good days, and infections, and weddings, and footprints, and sizes, and colours are spread, must I go on? All is spread. Did you ever notice how blind the blind spot actually is? It is as blind as a dollar bill. As ungreen as it is green. Despite the eye.
Why should my god look like yours?
Why do our stories have to match? I doesn’t make sense. It is boring to all have the same goal. The closer we get the longer the line for the toilets will be. I don’t want to go where everyone goes. I’ll pick my own companions thank you very much. I will make my own god damn mistakes sir, yes sir.
Because here’s the thing, only, and really only if we get it exactly, totally precisely fucking right, pardon my english, it could be not so bad. We at least had that one thing right, huh? If not, if there is the tiniest miscalculation in the model we’re all going for, that’s it. All the betted money is gone. We’re done. Kaput. Verschwunden.
If, on the other hand, each of us keeps fucking up in our own personal version, I could learn from you. And reenact the stupidity with a slight variance. Then we can spread the stitching load and the clean towels.
Natural democracy
Natural democracy I call that. The right to fuck up in your own special way. I think that’s a clever arrangement. Especially when we first have a conversation about the plan we intend to execute. God forbid us outlawing stupidity. We’d stop learning with that kind of education. And we’re all doomed to make the same mistakes.
There is no objection to cooperate. If I wasn’t clear on that I apologise. But spread. Let the boss be the boss who’s best at the specific task at hand. A constantly moving and shifting net of responsibilities, of stepping up and stepping down. No rights accumulate. Just a reward for the job well done. Or not. No security in the natural democracy. Just mutual safekeeping. Active and widespread. Celebrating tension, opposition, friction, differences. Living with them, not resolving them.
Purpose
So what is this purpose thing? Well, that’s not easy to make visible, but I’ll try. An easy example. What is the purpose of a rock? No long meditations needed for that answer. A rock is here to be a rock. Its rockiness is the purpose. A granite is here to be a granite. Not a marble, not a diamond. But exactly what it is, including the not so obvious embedded full list of qualities and potentials. No simplicity there, but all of it simply present in the bit of stone. And in the slightly different boulder next to it. Not the same, similar, but never exactly the same. Rocks are spread. Rock is not one thing. Very clear when you excavate the history of Deep Purple versus Led Zeppelin. Similar, not the same.
But that’s not all. Sorry for that. If only. This purpose price tag has a nasty twist. Some scaringly clever design secret is invisible in plain sight. It is everywhere, but rarely seen.
Purpose is only purposeful if surrounded by its negative. Which is a philosophical way of saying that a rock is only that specific rock because the thing next to it is not that same rock. Are you still with me?
A rock is unique. But it wouldn’t have been as impressive when I had started with that. I do hope by now you have some inclination of how weird that fact actually is.
The bigger soup
Anything you can think of is a one off. And anything you can think of has no clear boundaries. Things overlap. They penetrate each other. They share at least as much as they are separate. That’s true and easy and totally mystical.
Purpose arises. From ‘the thing’ and what and where that thing is embedded in the bigger soup of all things. It is unique and it’s made of the exact same substance. It seems to me that the principle of spreading is at the core of what this reality is all about. The same thing spread over a billion or so stuffs. (but my countability stops at around twenty, so who am I to know the big number.) Time and space are spreaders. Everything matters because it is part of everything. Everything is and can be because it is spreading. Ongoing, not static. Mystical yes, but with practical consequences. We can stop trying to make gold from led. Move from improving to improvising. Making things better when you don’t even get what it is can be abandoned. Because you only fully ‘know’ the rock when you are the rock. Who else wants to throw the first stone at this fact? I thought so. Get your dirty hands of my rockiness you turd.
Some last wisdoms, free of charge
Spread.
Don’t run where your neighbour is running.
Don’t run all the time.
Use both feet to run.
And both eyes to see where your going.
Both halves of you split brain to work out, if there really still is good reason to keep running.
Don’t confuse metaphoric running with the actual pleasurable practice of making the wind dry your wet hair on a stil day. Which is also a goal driven activity but fully balanced out by its banality and uselessness.
Stop accepting wisdoms from others, because wisdom cannot be recorded. It always is a live event. A one off. It arises like purpose.
Maybe it’s time to stop and spread the energy. Do some reflective knitting in stead. Save it for when you really need it. Because navigation, direction and perspective are yours. Limited because shared. But in need of you to make sense. You rock. Next time someone tries to tell you otherwise, spread your arms, embrace them, and walk away.
I apologise for not keeping my promise to write about colours. This came out beyond my control.... I promise to not make empty promises again.
If you liked this essay, you’ll probably appreciate this one too:
It seems to me that the principle of spreading is at the core of what this reality is all about... Amen...
❤️ your writing has so many shades of Zen, such a delight. You are one of a kind 🥰 keep going...