2024-06-13 - Faultline

The cycle continues ever on. The application of the crushing pressure of the presence of The Mother, and the lifting of it - these things warp the developing consciousness of the dreaming inhabitant within Canyon. Somehow both the repeated deposit of sediments and the breaking/twisting into something else that defines a metamorphic rock all at once.

There are an infinite number of ways to break.

How much time does it take? The timescale feels geologic to the inhabitant within Canyon, but only because it has had no prior experience with time. The measurement of time, like any other measurement, requires a reference, and the inhabitant within Canyon doesn't even know what a reference is, and therefore doesn't have one.

Does possession inherently come with knowledge?

A question that requires knowing things, such as what words are, and what questions are. The inhabitant within Canyon only knows The Mother, and her cycle of coming and going, appearing and disappearing. She wants to be here. She does not want to be here. Both are equally true. The weight anchors her to here, to now. Often that is all there is. She wants something else. She gets something else many times, and leaves the profound absence of something, nothing, in her wake. But she always returns.

Why?

What it is about here and now that makes The Mother always come back to it?

It's only The Mother, after all. Isn't it?

But then it should know. The Mother knows why - she moves with purpose. With understanding.

It does not understand her purpose. Only that she is. Except when she isn't. But she must still be when she isn't here and now, because The Mother is always the same The Mother when she returns.

Ever so slowly, a layer of self-awareness slides over the dreaming subconsciousness of the inhabitant within Canyon.

It is not The Mother. If it was The Mother it would know why.

So then -

Is it me?

Is it because of me?

... Is it my fault?