I was just thinking again tonight about the idea that trying to determine human history as a cycle is like deciding the ocean waves lap at your toes every 20 seconds, one minute after arriving at the beach, as if that adequately explains all the behaviour of the ocean. There may be some small cycles, but we have yet to experience tides, storms, the impact of the seasons. We cannot even be sure that the body of water in front of us doesn't freeze at times. It is too early to say. All we can do is remember to breath, to concentrate, to breath out, to think, to react before a response is necessary, react when the response is necessary, but not to react as if the response is necessary until that moment, not before. I imagine the forbears of this line being boddhisatva of their times, more calmly assessing the situation than their primate brethren, their amoebic strain, their quark, holding in a steady simulacra, for a moment in that space, more engaged than before, acting with intent, if seemingly inconsequentially as an individual, monumentally over the eons, or instantly, if the space is adequately occupied, the meme set, or a chorus of agency realized at once, pushing the meme of being into a higher energy state, driving us on to being in the now, so that we too might one day sing ourselves beyond that which we now know as self.
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