hatticsalt

[hatticsalt]

Spiritual journey carry-on items cannot exceed the dimensions of this space-time

Universe, thou has surpassed thyself in symbolism.

Tomorrow I go on a weirdly sensible journey. It's to a place that always loomed large in my personal history and still does, for my longest visit to date, 10 years after I left it. And it's all to study Buddhism, which would approve of all the nice cyclical elements of this narrative, if it isn't in fact the universal force that jumpstarted this whole thing which, given my usual understanding of how the universe works, is probably the truth.

I foresee three kinds of journey this could be:

A) A spiritual/quasi-Buddhist one, naturally.

B) Journey into the subconscious. Y'know, I'll have to confront (or cordially greet in passing) the past and memories and childhood, and the setting happens to be Asia which, as I learned this past semester, is second only to Africa as everybody's favourite projection of the Other.

(Being from Asia, does this mean I have no Other? Or does that position default to Africa? Are Chinese people currently building roads into the heart of darkness? What Other do African people have? Do we start dissecting ethnicity and class once we've exhausted geopolitical distinctions?)

(This also reminds me - I need to set aside some time in my schedule to journey up a long river in a steamboat. I'll also have to contrive to get captainship of said boat.)

C) A prance around a wacked-out dreamsphere. 'Cos both the other two explanations just make too much sense. This should be unsurprising, since I find everything to be symbolic on a regular basis, but since the universe is probably just trolling me, I have Explanation C perennially lurking in my mind.

Here's hoping for 100+ points towards my next life.

***Trivia/close reading question of the day: what is that adjective that describes how the universe works to my mind?

If you answered "conspiratorially," thanks for being a good friend, and you can have 10 of my 100 pending reincarnation points.

[hatticsalt]

A day before a day of reckoning

AKA

"Some China, for Before You Go To China, That Also Happens to Take Place Chronologically Before the Period of China Where You Are to Go"

Today was my training for hyperspatial reality-bending dimension-warping time-hop to a country situated in my past, to begin in T-17 days. I am prepared to be greeted by my Past Self and all its trappings. First, I think my journey to my origins shall quite sumptuously appease my sense of symbolism. As for the other five senses, they'll be feasted by a spread consisting chiefly of construction noise, stinky tofu smell, lack of glaringly and direct sunlight, lots of taste components that I don't really want take time to list, and...glass cases? (Or wait, I'm not supposed to touch those in museums).

Today, though, I've gone even further back in time in China than I thought I could, courtesy of the Museé des beaux-arts de Montréal. Ancestral treasures here of all places. Then I was waylaid on my way out of the museum by futuristic modern Chinese art. It all makes for a very surreal experience. Unless the universe wants to send a message by juxtaposition?

(That seems to happen often. I like synecdoche better, though. I want the universe to use that more).

(At least, I got to stand in line for two hours, in a large crowd people who like free admission to things. There's some realistic practice for my actual journey.)

(And the chariot horse was my favourite out of the displayed figurines. I think we are both saddened that outside of China, nobody acknowledges the existence of the horses in the terra-cotta army).

Now that I've practiced for it, I hope this journey affords spiritual growth. And I hope I become as awesome as this guy, pipe dream it may be:

(Only I also want the sword that he'd originally held pressed beneath his palms, pointed toward the ground. A pose that you earn.)

[hatticsalt]

Memoranda and mind games

Dear Cyberspace,

I’m deeply sorry to be the source of a new headache. That’s what I imagine you suffer at each birth of a new blog, each half-second of every day when yet another stranger brands you with our spiritual fingerprint and impresses you into the service spreading our personal gospels afar. For the existence of this very paragraph, I am reasonably remorseful.

Though...not too reasonable, I guess, or I’d discard this post and self-efface, sacrifice my need for soliloquy in favour of your sanity. But I think I hang on out of have latent desire to exercise my writing and rhetoric. And I’ll admit that the other reason is competition – inscribing my own sum of editorials, travel logs and private thoughts to keep apace the glut of people seasoned at doing so; or satisfy employers or other would-be acquaintances so steeped in digital-age norms that they demand to see and use it for a primer to my personality, an appendage of every complete person. For you, the cycle is endless and likely miserable. As for me, right now, I feel I have good reason to indulge.

But I'd like to make you a deal, so that neither of our needs will trump the other’s. This personal blog will be exactly like every other except that it won’t be real. Maybe. That is to say, you won’t know because (as per my custom, some say) I’ll throw out just enough to veiled allusions, metaphors and jarring genre shifts* to muddy the lenses. You – and me probably, in a few years – can enjoy the challenge of decrypting the embellished truth.

We’ll be playing a game, acting lightheartedly antagonistic – thus equal. Consider it fair?

I thought you would.

*Today’s genre is, of course, the letter.