Balanced (After)Math

Is it not true that this known universe can be mathematically explicated?

Even the elusive emotions are just responses to the level of chemicals in our bodies.  These chemicals are so present because of atoms and molecules that, by chance, bonded together due to a quantum balance of electrons on the subatomic level.

Anyone familiar with mathematics can tell you that it is seemingly chaotic; what, with all the sums, products, factors, fractions, variables, functions, imaginary numbers, etc., it is presumably a crazy world, especially knowing that it can be so explicated by it all.

But then-- anyone who is well-acquainted to mathematics can tell you that in the (for a lack of better words) aftermath, there is balance.  Equations, through the numbers, functions, symbols-- there is a solid and definite balance, unchangeable due to its definition.  If it does not compute, if it does not equate, then it simply does not exist but in theory.

And if this world is able to be mathematically articulated...

The implications are relentless.  The seeming chaos, the apparent craziness of it all, is just the equation, the formula, and somewhere-- somewhere out there, there is a cosmic equal sign.  And on the other side of it?

The answer.

Do Battle

And so it comes to this.  I feel that I am fighting this battle every moment of everyday.  And there is never a clear indication of whether or not there is any progression in any direction.  The battle is ongoing that it is merely a ritual of everyday life, and if it were ever to end, that in itself would be more cause for alarm than the result of the battle.

But at some point I have to stop to consider the expense with which it comes to wage such a war.  What kind of toll is it having on my body and mind?  The effects are at best mild with rare episodes of extremity, but when charted on a timeline, and considering the efforts wasted sustaining the battle, then it begins to seem that... that... there could've been so much more.  So much more.

But it seems such a loss to let go of it, as if the battle itself is what I seek rather than the allure of victory with which a warrior plunges into battle.  But it seems that there is no true battlefield, but, rather, a place of reflection; a shameful place between reproach and addiction; a stagnant area of my being where it seems a waste to lose, but equally a waste to win; it is a place for consideration and speculation on my morals and soul without decision; a place of meaning but without consequence; a place characterized by hesitance.

Kit-- don't let this poison what good you might happen to possess.  If there be any courage and honor in you, harness it.  Whatever energy that goes into holding up the rock that is your opposition, let it drop, and then focus all your being into fixing all that can be fixed in the aftermath.  Otherwise, you are stuck in this cycle that can't even be called perpetual because no kinetic energy touches it, for you are simply not moving.

Let yourself be free-- and, as you drift slowly towards the heavens, grasp onto reality with your gaze still fixed above, so that it is the real you touch, but the surreal you feel.

Consider five parallel lines, and how mundane they are as they stretch onto infinity.  Consider how boring repetition is when its done over and over.  But then- consider those five lines, and then consider the notes with which they are filled, and consider then the music that those mundane lines inspire.  Consider the same occurrence that repeats without a change, just as night and day, and then consider the possibility of possibilities with which each day can be lived.

Do that, Kit-- take the mundane and repetitive, and create.

Wish

The world glistens as if the morning dew signified the dawn of a new era.  Our globe is enveloped by a comforting haze, a most inviting mist, and we all hug ourselves a little tighter, not out of any fear, but for the comfort that exists without as it manifests within.

Things slow down to a glorifying crawl, and the clock owns no importance at this time.  There is nowhere to be than where we are, and to go anywhere would be purely out of whim, a magnetized pull of the soul in a general direction.

Our hopes and dreams will be realized, and there would be no conflict of dreams because we would all hope for the same thing.  Somehow, life would breathe as we breathe, and we would match its rhythm as it inhales and exhales in perfect content.

That's what I wish.

Break Through

It may seem that Fate has a sense of humor in this way, playing with our hearts in this manner, presenting situations that coincidentally reflect the gravest mistakes of our past, but then one must realize that it is not Fate's humor, but God's compassion that brings these situations about.

God sees our weaknesses reflected in our past mistakes, and he finds sympathy in our weaknesses-- but just as the wisest parents adore to see their children become better people through their experiences, God wants to see us triumph as well.  And so he presents us with these repeating circumstances so that we may learn from them and break out of the cycle, to rise out of the ashes as the same person with stronger character; he sets the stage with obstacles just so that we may overcome them.  Because, in the end, isn't it our own opinion that judges that we are not strong enough?  Isn't it ourselves who cross that fateful line into incompetence, ourselves who make the decision to allow the environment to go ahead of us, and we fumble closely behind?

Yes, somewhere inside, we allow ourselves to be convinced that we are separate from the world around us, and that it moves faster than us.  But it's only in hindsight that we see that we were as much a part of the scene as was every other component, and we realize how we should have carried ourselves; but these realizations were very capable of being grasped at the very instant that they refer to, it's just that we are too preoccupied with how badly we are conducting ourselves in said situation, and it becomes an instantaneous self-fulfilling prophecy.

I fit; therefore, I don't

And so it seems that I've become that age where I find myself relative to society.  Even with no effort, I find that I am already a part of it, but if I don't show an initiative, I'll gain an undesirable place in it all.  So I've found that I have proclivities and talents which may serve me well.  However, I have become somewhat distraught by the prospect of things.

I know I have to take part in society, but I'm hating that I'm beginning to identify myself with it.  I'm beginning to see that my values are unconsciously being compromised to fit society's much better, but then that would mean that much of what is original about me is being relinquished.

The ironic thing about society is that it compels you to take and take and take to build an identity around it, and then this, somehow, is supposed to make you feel unique or original.

And the dangerous thing is that I find myself absent-mindedly buying into it.  It's at those moments when I catch myself doing this that I have the most internal conflict and anxiety-- cuz then I start thinking that I don't measure up, and I have to recall the basis of my confidence to keep from falling into a deeply vain trap.

Mathematically articulate?

It still confounds me that math exists.


Truly, if we evolved into the intelligence that we have, and we stumbled onto numbers, and then we "realized" that the universe could be explained by them, and then that there were things about the universe that we couldn't explain except through math... Well, did we find math or did math find us?  Isn't it true then that we are merely parts of the equation of this all-consuming math?


But then we'd be that part of the equation that is aware of itself... Or is that simply the function, neither transcending nor affecting the equation beyond our mechanically infused capability, an f(x) in this world of axes?  Even if we were to burst out of the system, wouldn't we have been mathematically inclined to drive ourselves through that wall?


What the hell is mathematical inclination, anyway?  A proclivity to do what we were programmed to do?  That we were to "change" when we were really just programmed to since the beginning, only seemingly spontaneous, but really, it was just supposed to happen like that anyway?  Like how puberty in a child seems sudden and eventful, when, really, it's a manifestation of the coding of our genes?


And, what the hell am I doing wearing this ugly green shirt?  WAS I SUPPOSED TO?  This morning, in a mathematical sense, being that this green shirt was the least worn of my shirts, and because my hand, distance-wise, was that much closer to this shirt than the other shirts I haven't worn much, I seized it and went on to look like a DOUCHE for the rest of the day?


Was I mathematically inclined to look ugly today!?