Sekai no Ai
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I am. At least, I think I am. However, I may disagree with Descartes that such a thought logically implies that I actually am. Maybe, I am. A yam. Aum.
The self is such an indescribable vastness that making a short summary of it is dancing with doubt and always twirling, twirling! Twirling. Description is the art of painting on the mind's eye, but whose mind and who's I? Communication is the artist's noose! Shaky footing and no grounding: therein lies the rub.
I suppose if I had to define the essence of my being, it would be abstraction. That is, more concretely, my mind wanders in the realms of the hypothetical, of pure imagination. Whatever it is, it is not, but it may be in a different perspective. Nothing is, but thinking makes it appear so.
Then again, I'm infused with a deep attachment to the tangible. That is, more abstractly, experience. I feel. I breathe deep with the intoxication of the moment, and know nothing else. Experience lies beyond the domain of thought, of description, of names, of objects, of logic. That which is not, Is.
These two worlds complete each other; they are counter intuitively orthogonal, yet endlessly and sensuously intertwined.