(no subject)

[robinbloke]

We are everything we interact with. Anything we touch, describe, perceive and change. It becomes part of us, a sliver of us left in stasis until someone or something else molds and changes it. Each item we have spread out is part of the meme that we are, infecting and passing out tendrils of thought brought into form. Reaching out around us to paint the colours we want and leave the sounds of our passing, etched onto the memories of others even as we become changed from their own passing.
I find silence is oppressive. The only time I like it is if I need a moment to myself, or if I need to sleep. A moment to draw myself away from everything and look inside what I am as opposed to outside what I am. In my mind the shapes I have created and the sounds I have sung hang and sway in the breeze of thoughts that buffet them. They slowly wear away as time gnaws at their edges, the fabric fraying slowly until only the brightest and darkest remain.
Do you remember the last door you opened? Do you remember if you turned the handle, pushed it, twisted it? Was it opened for you or did you open it for someone else.
Do you remember the last playing card you looked at, the suit and value? What it was for and if you or someone else played it.
All the memories are being filed away around us, in and about us as the mountains grind slowly down to the floor and the seabeds rise up, hewn from plastic bags and refuse, and soar up to the clouds.
Sight, sound, taste. Our senses touch and test the world around us as it tests us.
Turn the page, the next book is blank as well, waiting for new ink to touch and scribe it into something wonderful.

Comments

[surje.livejournal.com]

you mention that we become etched into others' memories, but don't distinguish that sometimes we are aware of that, and sometimes not. imagine the people that walked past you in the street that noticed you but you didn't notice them. you don't know exactly who read this LJ entry, or how different people interpreted it internally.

you have painted an engaging picture of a sort of space-time of self, the four dimensional cellular automata of all the physical interactions that transmit different amounts of information between us and others.

however, i would say that there are also higher level processes at work that are also intrinsically part of self. these are things like routines, habits, behaviours, traditions. so every thing you do because it's a routine, every catch phrase that you use, every time you shower, every time you change gear, every time you sing the same song because another circumstance reminded you of it.

all experiences are unique, but some are less unique than others.

[robinbloke.livejournal.com]

It's part metaphysics, part prose as I work towards refining or tidying up my ideas and thoughts.
We leave a wake in the waters of life, but we don't neccessiraily see who it washes over, no; similarly we can't see who or what is washing over us. Memes, half remembered memories, accidents and foibles all merge together to form our self along with the elements you've described.
What exactly that self is, is one of the big questions.

[kittenonthekeys.livejournal.com]

*soft smile*

Wow.