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There is a space between what we say and what we think, and that gap is never fully realized. But we can continue to try to connect the points, and eventually maybe we can get somewhere.

Tuesday, February 1, 2011

And why the horror, when there is nothing in it?

Let's talk about authenticity. Kim Gordon says that maybe it's gone by the wayside now, and in a way I agree with her. Think about it. The definition of authenticity is "of undisputed origin, genuine," but considering we live in a time in which there is not one agreed upon way of living or set of moral values, how can one argue what is genuine or in-genuine, and therefore even remotely authentic. When every perspective can be claimed valid, because every outlook is situational, not one product or statement or feeling can be regarded as wrong. I can claim that the photo collage on my wall is the most authentic and expressive piece of work that exists in my life, but unless someone else knows the stories behind the images, the reason for their placement, and the feeling I feel from the images, no one will understand my meaning and reasoning of why this piece is so important. So what does it matter?

Let's say that nothing is authentic anymore. Truly. Not a single thing. So that means that nothing is genuine and that something you or I create is just a repeat of something done in the past. That's true isn't it? So then let's start with the big bang... that was authentic wasn't it? The first and only time (that we know of) that the universe bubbled into existence. And every development from that point on was like a brick being laid in it's proper place in a long, enormously tall wall. When I think about life like this, I imagine each moment that wind was blown across the pacific, each crack of earth made by erosion, every drop of rain that hit the desert, and every single millimeter of a second has been a piece in this enormous sandy beach puzzle, and each piece has it's particular place in order to make up the long stretch of the ocean's side. Each grain looks almost identical when examined at a far enough distance, but when observed closely not a single piece is the same as another.

Alan Watts claims, " it is only a somewhat clumsy convenience to say that present events are moved or caused by past events, for we are actually talking about earlier and later stages of the same event." This constant movement of existence is like a running marathon that never seems to end, and with our measly measurements of time it truly seems to take forever. But my existence is the product of another existence is a product of another existence and so on and so on and so on all the way back to that first initial implosion of chemicals. However, although there are patterns, ways in which " the intricate organization both of the plants and of my own nervous system, [are] like symphonies of branching complexity," and forms that repeat themselves as the branching of trees is "reverberated in the design of watercourses in the desert," each reflection has it's extreme difference. Although the human nervous system may be looked at as an exact replica of the formation of waterlines along a vast desert, the chemical make up, purpose, and function of both are supremely different.

So then, the patterns which we naturally part take in, succumb to and clumsily fall into without ever really realizing that we are simply following a footpath already made for us, just looking ahead or around us constantly, are always felt and actualized in time differently for every person. So then the argument become false. There will only be one 32nd second of 8:26pm of February 1, 2011 on Earth (as far as we know) and that moment has it's one and only undisputed origin, and is therefore genuine. And I will never look at my poorly painted bedroom door the same way, because each day I am a different person who has learned or unlearned something new and experienced and felt and dreamed differently than the day before. That door will never look the same, it will always look genuinely different.

Let's say that everything is authentic then. Every single moment. It doesn't matter if we know it or not (but perhaps that might make it more enjoyable) And does it matter if authenticity is not something we can force into a particular category or style? I don't personally think so. The idea that every single piece of garbage, hummingbird, wood floor, and synthetic potato chip out there is authentic makes everything a piece of art, doesn't it? It's all a brand new, genuine piece of creation. I'd say thats all the more reason to see how fucking beautiful it all is, and keep talking about authenticity.

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