It seems that no matter how far I get, the ongoing feeling of 'total dropout' pervades me. You might know what I'm talking about; that sensation of weak chest-palpitations, loss of appetite, on the verge of screaming for no reason, like you're wrapped up in a cold, wet blanket of nothingness... So there's that.
I'm also beginning to realize my true nature, in that I only get better at the things I repeat, and the better I get- the more reliant I become on said things, and as I build conceptual models of the world around me this way- through repetition- I literally become addicted to the tools necessary to maintain my sanity and stability.
It's like stepping out of a box, only to realize you're in a bigger box.
NASA scientists report that you can successfully trick a human brain into thinking they're outside, by placing them in a room with the dimensions of about 150 ft. in all directions. The reason this works is that we experience things in two ways: The first is linear: What we see/hear/smell/otherwise is exactly the way things are. The second is non-linear: What we see/hear/smell/otherwise is NOT exactly the way things are. There are two chemical reactions going on at the same time, one telling us that our situation is real, the other telling us it's not. Historically, this has worked to our advantage. I mean, to the naked eye the earth does look flat, and it does look like the sun rotates around it, but someone, somewhere along the line had the non-linear notion that neither is true. In fact, it takes more effort to prove our superstitions wrong, mostly because institutions in place prohibit such activity, but also because we refuse to reward non-linear behavior within the species.
What if we break through so many doors and crack so many codes that we reach a box so large we hardly believe we're in a box at all? Taking that into account, perhaps the 'modern tragedy' is in the fetishization of what we consider to be "progress;" Stepping forward for no other reason than to simply do it, yielding virtually no reward, ultimately witnessing the walls of the larger box closing in, powerless to do anything about it.
