A pocket of void in the universe
To hide the self from the world
This is a continuation of this post.
Maybe there is an incessant desire for me to discuss this type of obscurity in the way I express myself. I have acclimated to the tension between the desire to be perceived and to disappear. This tendency to create something artistic can only be sourced from my introspective nature.
He who talks a lot to himself. He who has built an audience within himself.
I become literally full of myself, which builds up to a type of pressure that cannot be fully contained. Expression then, happens as a consequence of overflowing solipsism. Speaking becomes a necessity. To be perceived becomes a method to keep my sanity intact.
Sometimes, I hide from the world knowing that I am taking a part of it and making it mine. I hide myself, removing the world’s grasp on my being. Space becomes the accidental consequence of hiding. To own a space from the grasp of the world is to borrow from the world’s secrets. In solitude, the world reveals itself, communicating in its own language—whereas this language is temporary and only exists in that space of stillness. Any form of movement that follows renders the world illegible and incomprehensible.
But I know that this act of hiding is futile since the world has always been a part of us. Wherever I go, I carry the fragments of the world in my own pockets as I am also a pocket of the world’s truth.
We are beings hiding in plain sight, creating pockets of our own voids as we ourselves become a universe of our own. “Hiding from the world,” entails a secret desire to cease existing from the collective gaze—when, even if in doing so, creates a pocket: a void of solipsism designed to create another temporal language existing in a space that decrypts the secret inside that void.
These words, as you read them in sequence reveal the pocket of void that I have left using a language to decrypt my secret.
This is how we make secrets sacred—always unrequited and perverse. In prayer: a private communication towards something hidden, a one-way declaration of the recognition of the other, who has created a pocket of a void somewhere in the world, we ask:
Are these the words that decrypt the language of a universe you locked from us? Grant me entry into this secret, for an unworthy soul, a no-place that I can only think of as Heaven, where in knowing, I shall be set free from the burden of my own curiosity. Just say the word and I shall be healed.
In forms of meditation and prayer, we travel inward to a void of an intimate language legible only through a personal experience. We begin to create as we speak—in spaces summoned by the incantation of quiet desire.
Secrets are only accessible by declaring this quiet desire to access them in secret.
I have hidden myself from the world countless times and left countless pockets of voids in this world. In those voids, I have left multitudes of self[1] that have stopped serving who I want to become, and in doing so I have abandoned countless languages I used to communicate with the world, left to expire in time and to die in secret.
How do you spit blood on concrete without leaving a mark?
Containing multitudes necessitates the understanding that it is our prime responsibility to understand and organize those multitudes. Infinity begs chaos, where chaos is an unfamiliar and unrecognized order. What we mean is that order is the consequence of understanding the chaos of the infinite. ↩︎