#the dream of the unified field

[dreaminginthedeepsouth]

* * * * *

« There is a feeling the body gives the mind of having missed something, a bedrock poverty, like falling

without the sense that you are passing through one world, that you could reach another anytime. Instead the real is crossing you,

your body an arrival you know is false but can’t outrun. And somewhere in between these geese forever entering and these spiders turning back,

this astonishing delay, the everyday, takes place. »

― Jorie Graham, The Dream of the Unified Field

[exhaled-spirals]

[joaofelix70]

MISS DIPLOMAT & MR. CHARMING |

dominik szoboszlai x female reader.

author's note: this handsome man's living rent-free in my head. he's a freaking masterpiece. talented, funny, charismatic, attractive. i watched interviews, tiktok videos made by supporters and much more to understand a little bit of his language, personality and what he does towards friends and loved ones. laughed a lot! i made my homework as a writer, hope you enjoy it! (compliments and any kind of retributions are more than welcomed).

summary: your job is involving the commitment of unify the population and create interrelations to another countries, using the eurocup qualifiers and the hungary national team executions. you just didn't expect to fall in love with the no. 10's captain player.

words and characters: 1,811/11,223. it was three days working too hard on this story. i'm begging for your consideration, lol.

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sports diplomacy: it's the unique power of sport to bring people, nations, and communities closer together via a shared love of physical pursuits. this responsibility is the reason of a transition between strangers to connected individuals, advancing foreign policy goals and augmenting sport for development initiatives. the complex landscape where sport, politics, and diplomacy overlap become clearer, as do the pitfalls of using sport as a tool for overcoming and mediating separation between people, nonstate actors, and states. the power of sport has never been more important. so far, the 21st century has been dominated by disintegration, introspection, and the retreat of the nation-state from the globalization agenda. in such an environment, scholars, students, and practitioners of international relations are beginning to rethink how sport might be used to tackle climate change, gender inequality, and the united nations sustainable development goals, for example. to boost these integrative, positive efforts is to focus on the means as well as the ends, that is, the diplomacy, plural networks, and processes involved in the role sport can play in tackling the monumental traditional and human security challenges of our time. credits: international studies association and oxford university press.

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MLSZ (hungarian football federation) ──

new training ground at telki.

"i can't believe that being in places like this made up my most theoretically utopian childhood dreams. what a progress in front of me!" you still witness exciting moments where you pinch yourself, trying to believe in the reality that surrounds you: visiting the new training center of the players who are just a few meters away from you, getting ready to represent an entire country.

"your presence is our privilege. a voice of the spread of eurocup to our nation, right here…" the technical director gives you deference, obtaining a measure of humbleness and respect by you.

"the honor belongs to me in its entirety. grateful for having me, sir. while the view is immersive and captivating — my fervent congratulations to everyone involved — could we retreat from the pleasant glass-enclosed room and see everything closer, on the outside? please? i will never get used to this atmosphere." you pour politeness and charisma to the staffs around you, being directed to the proximity of the field and saluting the employees who pass through your path.

meet dominik — your szobo — instigates the nostalgic combination of detailed moments in which your thoughts display as photographic retrospectives. you're incapable to oppose the little enthusiastic laughs, fidgeting the rings between your fingers and avoiding possible suspicious glances from others. however, for you, this wouldn't actually work. the lives of you both are correlated, but different.

the training session is finished. clapping your hands and celebrating the performances, you greet the athletes and recognize some familiar people. nevertheless, reality slows down after those dark woody eyes capture through your soul. his arms tattoos are glorified by the sun's rays, the same illuminated smile is offered to you: that one you got during the very first time you saw him — instantly knowing he made you testimony the accuracy of freedom, catharsis and emotional amorous complement. that he'd be the one to introduce you what you never experienced, what you thought you'd never receive or deserve. what love truly is. when you were novices in your actual professions, not even imagining the future gifts of your unreal purposes.

"there you are!" intimately, dominik points at you, being reciprocated by vibrant nods and your old sort of secret — not that mysterious or serious — handshake. "még mindig emlékszel rá? (still remembering it?). you're a real one!"

"hogy tudnám elfelejteni? alábecsülsz engem. (how could i forget it? you're underestimating me)". your defensive actions demonstrate purposeful falseness. masking any sensitive, verbal or figurative communicative fragment from him is a difficulty that makes you give in over time. honestly, you never complain about this. it's like he wants to understand the factors and layers of you.

"a te kézfogás fickó. ne merészelj lecserélni engem. (your handshake man… don't you dare to replace me)". a shameless wink is send to you, butterflies acquiring space in your stomach.

"és hivatalosan is a szavamat adom rá. (and you officially have my word on it)." your gloss is pigmented against your fingers while you raise it up, displaying an oath, wondering if szoboszlai comprehends that his replacement in your life would be blasphemous.

"diplomata kisasszony, (miss diplomat)…" the hungarian fingerprints are shared and you recognize the sign to hold them, ready to perform your typical fashion icon moment. "gorgeous as always. go ahead! you know what to do!".

amusement surrounds you with the nickname's citation. although, you could feel some curious glances, from the outsiders, about the intimacy between you and him. "i appreciate, our top-class national bless…" you move your body in rotations to exclaim the outfit's characteristics, lifting your feet to show off the specificities of your heels. "how is your hair so well-groomed after sweating, though?" your arms cross and you raise an eyebrow in questioning, trying to hide your fascination.

"thank you, my number-one fan, but don't change the subject. finish our inside joke, c'mon!" dominik grabs his water bottle and spreads the cooling liquid on his forehead, wiping the glowing droplets across his face as he lifted his jersey high enough to exhibits his fortified abs.

your attention is directed to any surrounding scenery, throat being piked. szoboszlai pretends he doesn't notice, preventing to embarrass you.

"alright, alright! you've won, bájos úr… (mr. charming)". your final comment escapes as, practically, a whisper. you can't control the shy laughter, coupled with the considerable redness invading your cheeks.

"that's the secret to make my day!" using his tongue to reproduce a sharp noise, he matches your humorous reactions. "would you like me to show you the infrastructure changes? i'm just gonna take a shower!"

"i've already been granted a tour around here, but in case you insist…" during the dialogue, some athletes cross your space, wishing them good luck for the competition. your concentration on the activity is significant, at the point that dominik's silent admiration goes unnoticed.

"i mean, you know me! i'm gonna insist anyway, so…" he reaches your captivity, bringing you jollification.

"i'll rate you as a personal tour guide. now, go there!" jesting each other, you both exchange exaggerated reverences, like a challenge of who makes the most chaotic one.

────

walking around the area, various subjects are explored, informations entrusted. you ask and are updated about his ethereal younger sister.

portraits of the generations are framed. you magnifies his presence in celebratory pictures, dedicated to find him in the memories and achievements on that wall. pride shines from you and the hungarian finds it lovely.

"you know i'm a sucker for accents… they're much more than mere verbal characteristics, they're stories: life experiences, marks and scars. identities and cultural integrations." the topic is random. through generalized opinions, you're explaining conceptions and dominik is retaining mental observations. he exalts every scrap of your identity, like a faithful worshiper.

"basically, you're admitting being enchanted by my accent. i can see the stars in your eyes. a win is a win!" szoboszlai and his frequent attribute to physical touch, tickling your ears and playing with them. it doesn't bother you, actually: adoring the affection exuded by you and him. you feel like a little girl dealing with your one and only love.

"it's beautiful, how can you blame me? and hey, i know mine's making you grin too." he holds your arm, shivers running down your spine, the two of you being euphoric in the midst of your own enthusiasm.

"putting me against the wall? okay, hum… what were you saying before?" he's changing the subject and you have a natural wit to boo him. lifting his shoulders as a surrender, the hungarian focuses on the specific loose strands of his simple bracelet, which you get used to help him tie it again, willingly.

"trying to avoid the truth? fine! let me take care of you while i talk about my admiration towards globalization and communication. like, with every fiber of me…" you accept the conversation's direction and utter a 'voilà' towards the accessory's new appearance.

"that's why you're the best person i've ever seen doing this job." dominik compliments you, an act full of honesty.

"thanks a lot, mate. but which job? as your bracelet helper or my real one?" you provide tenderness, looking amused.

"i mean… both of them." szoboszlai chuckles, revealing courtesy by your continuous helpfulness.

"literally? because i know you know a lot of people. you're so young and already is the national team's captain." you nudge him in a form of tease. he's a starboy, it's undeniable.

"flattered! literally, thought. you were born for this, believe me." vulnerability collides to you, as his words are deliberated: emotions embracing you and warming your insides.

"dominik szoboszlai, my dear friend, you're gonna make me cry, right here. i'm sorry, i need to do it…"

innocent satisfaction builds strength over you and executes unthought-of approach to the tangibility of your gratitude — his colony enrapturing your sensitive olfaction — in the most out-of-control way. the sounds reach your hearing: a choir of angels singing hallelujah. he reciprocates the contact, laughing at your juvenile excitement. joining him and doing the same thing, harmonizing the triumph. in the separation of the touch, you both remain close to each other and the hungarian doesn't miss the opportunity to feel the softness of your side face, caressing the skin. appreciation and satisfaction invade your structure, delighting on the palm of his hand.

"just a dear friend? why are we pretending all this time?" dominik's reading you. the intimidation at the sight of him overhanging you is paralyzing. you don't usually back down, but in that instant — superior than your most repressed desires — your gasps are escaped.

"who is putting who against the wall now?" insisting and failing on your witty answers, shyness and uncertainty corrodes you.

"please, look at me! i'm not kidding anymore." his voice is questioning, intrigued — contradictorily vulnerable and calm — your rationality being fragmented, fragile.

"you know i'm not the kind of woman you're surrounding by, domi. i'm not an influencer, bikini model. i'm not a public figure. i don't live for the cameras and gossip platforms. i live to work hard. i didn't achieve any of this with some type of perk. my routine and your routine are based on traveling..." who could deny it? szoboszlai's always been all that you see. it's much more than a mere passion. your attraction to him is magnetic, intense, vivid. consequently, terrifying.

"i'm just asking for a chance, (your nickname). i don't lie when i say i've never met someone like you. i may be surrounded by a crowd and you'll still be the one to steal my attention, because nobody compares to you."

your eyelids are closed and the exhalation of his sigh penetrates your lungs with the numbing breath of life you've never experienced before. it's happening: the rare situation where thinking carefully about the pros and cons is unworthy, dumbness. your decision is made and the privilege's resolution unify your lips. the beginning demonstrates slowness and patience — the intensification through the concluded wait of the longed-for reality, transforming light and magical kisses into open mouths discovering each other and witnessing the endearment that both offer — hairs, necks, shoulders and waists captured.

"you're the first to create a meaningful presence in my mind and heart. i want you to be the last one too. i love you, kincs (my treasure). i'm finally brave enough to demonstrate it with no fears." dominik's forearm covers your upper torso. your back against his chest, noses resting on each others. rejoicing at the miraculous, incomparable circumstance.

"i love you, drágám (my precious). you're finally mine and it was so fucking worth waiting." his whisper: the living proof of celestial existence.

"how blessed we are…" intertwined bodies, coalesced essences. solitary melodies turning into the sweetest and most complete symphony.

[multiplicationdivision]

Abott Inc.

The manufacturing plant was abuzz with Tony Abott

Two of him handled a repair on the bottom floor, replacing a slipped wheel in record time. Another watched, ready to jump into motion at any evidence of a problem. Six others manned the quality checks, spouting off curses and shooting the shit as their muscle memory handled all the heavy lifting of searching for faults. Two were out to get lunch, carrying in tow the same burger order for a factory’s worth of the same exact man.

Only the forewoman was unique, a beautiful buff woman who acted to make sure that their unified state of mind never got them in trouble. She kept them out of trouble just as a single Tony kept the factory full of identical copies of her safe in turn.

It was good being Tony.

Years of education in all manners of factory positions, skill in any task that this facility could need. A physique built by an equal time training practically, nothing gained from the gym. Each muscle was built for practicality and each of him could handle a world of weight just on his own.  

This body had once been a man named Braedon. He’d been college educated in computer sciences, a prodigy of his field. He could code anything given a couple hours alone, so long as he had coffee and some good junk food. He was set for a comfy corporate throne after a few years on the bottom, rising high and fast.

It had been boring.

Years of brutal education gave way to months spent in bureaucracy, unable to complete a task that would’ve taken minutes without weeks of back and forth with incompetent bosses. Emails that took longer to write than the quick line of code that would fix the issue.

Braedon loved the feeling of a job well done. Reclining back as the circuits ran perfectly and the tasks played out like a line of dominos falling one after one.

Corporate was like watching every step of his Rube Goldberg machine get interrupted by a whiney man in a suit named Todd or Larry. Made Braedon want to scream and tear down his perfectly built systems just so he could be the one to fuck it up.

The factory had been his life line.

It had been a simple invoice. A practical job that promised everything he could ask for. No boss criticizing his work at every step, chipping away at his confidence. No choking atmosphere to his work, watched by a hundred people in the building that thought their business degrees gave them insight on system design. Way more money than he ever thought possible for a blue-collar job. More than he was making at the moment in his bland yet expensive cubical.

There was a catch.

Braedon had no experience in anything outside of the digital world. He’d traded his body and health in exchange for his degrees. One couldn’t become as specialized as him without sacrificing the self-care that was so important in the labor required of a factory worker.

The factory knew that, but they had an easy fix.

Tony Abott had interviewed him. The singular original Tony Abott.

He was a prodigy in his own right. The industry wet dream. Ruggedly attractive and overly competent. Charismatic and eager to please.

He’d been honest with Braedon from the start. They had their hands in some strange technology and they needed even stranger candidates. Each selected for their unique physiologies and mental states that would make them perfect for their shared role.

Tony said that he’d been selected for his flexible sense of self and pathological loneliness. He’d been like Braedon, giving up his social life so he could be the best of the best. Was left hollow when he reached that height and started depersonalizing without staring himself in a mirror to remember that he existed.

Braedon had been selected after being profiled as similarly lost. Doctor’s notes demanding he eat anything that wasn’t processed. Caffeine and cigarettes letting him keep up with hundreds of email arguments over a simple fucking project. The gut twisting feeling of watching what that abuse did to his body, stealing away whatever youth was left and replacing it with something tired and boney. The hunger to be anything except for Braedon, who never wanted to be understood by another person as the gaping pit of rage and self-disgust that had taken root in his heart.

They were a match for each other and Braedon hadn’t cared for whatever physiological horror a happier person might see in this deal.

He’d quit his shitty corporate hell the next day and made his goodbyes to whatever people passed for tolerable in those minimalist nightmare hallways. Wished them good luck breathing recirculated air-conditioned smog as he got ready to breath real fucking air.

He’d arrived at his second “interview” a week later, having spent the last days wrapping up affairs and communicating with the labor board. The factory wasn’t doing anything shady and the government had needed to setup Braedon’s paperwork for his new life. Little benefits and tax write off as reward for joining the latest and greatest of industrial innovation. That alongside the mountain of appointments they’d needed to make for new identification as his old ID photos wouldn’t identify him for shit in the following day.

Tony had joined him for this “interview”. Dressed to his best in a soft dress shirt and new jeans. Boots barely broken into and a new watch. A professional shave and tussled hair atop a cap, branded with the company logo. A shining example compared to the loose clothes Braedon had been told to wear, making him look anything but a put together future coworker.

A second set of Tony’s exact outfit lay next to the door, atop a shoebox and a fancy new duplicate watch.

They’d made a toast to brotherhood, those two lonely men. Tony had supplied his favorite beer, cheap piss Budweiser. It went down watery and flat, nothing like the vodka tonics Braedon felt most suited to when he was in an alcoholic mood. The slight burn of it travelled down his throat, soothing yet peppery. It brought a head high like nothing else, feeling as if the golden liquid had flowed into his brain and body before it could even reach his stomach.

Alcohol didn’t feel like this, but this wasn’t exactly Alcohol.

Tony had tried to explain whatever biochemical cocktail was laced into the drink. It was all for the sake of complete transparency, they weren’t in the business of trickery. Something to do with forced recombination and stem cells. Braedon was a highly intelligent man, but there was a reason he’d never dipped into biology. Tony seemed the same, rattling off a scripted explanation that he had probably practiced time and time again to look like he understood what he was saying.

Braedon sipped his beer as Tony attempted small talk. They were very different people. Tony seemed awkward as if he felt judged by every little glance that Braedon gave him. Braedon was used to analyzing a person by now, searching for faults that he could use to his advantage. Braedon had been the kindest person at his old workplace but that had been a low bar and he had still become cruel. Braedon could see every way that Tony felt insecure around anyone but himself, as if he didn’t have every tool at his command to be a juggernaut.

The ichor in the drink flowed through Braedon’s neurons and there was a memory. A kid who wasn’t him being criticized at every turn for jobs he’d sworn he’d done correctly. Credit taken from a pre-teen for perfect machines that could cut production times by half. The same instances over and over, leaving a man desperately trying to prove himself to a system that would use him and give the patent to his boss. That despair and betrayal settled comfortably in the spaces of Braedon’s own memories.

Braedon grit his teeth in subtle rage. His jawline had broadened and his face itched and it felt good in some odd way. Matched that swelling feeling of righteous anger.

The ichor altered how Tony fit in his brain. The insecurity became more and more relatable with every swallow. A memory of the guy’s only partner calling him pathetic, using every shitty doubt Tony had confided to wicked abandon. The breakup replayed in the man’s mind like nothing else, a cacophony of how he was weak and annoying and awful in every way.

Braedon wanted to punch that piece of shit and laugh in their face. Braedon knew to heart what human garbage was and Tony was anything but. Braedon could feel the waves of Tony’s insecurity reach through his mind and falter in the wake of Braedon’s own memories. Braedon wished he could have someone like Tony, over eager to be romantic and prepare for anniversaries. Wished he could inject his own point of view on the guy’s memory of his part love and how jealous and narcissistic they actually were.

The Budweiser began to taste good. Braedon could remember the first time they’d drunk it. A trade school kid picking up the cheapest shit at the gas station on their twenty first, drinking as he carved away at a block of wood deep into the night. The carbonation had made the swill all the more comforting, a bitter spot against the peace of his work station. It tasted like shit, but the good type of shit. Fit him and his sweaty downtime, relaxing as he sculpted pine and oak into art.

At some point their conversation stopped being awkward. The words flowed better and better as Braedon felt understanding coating his mind. Nervous jokes became relatable and the nasty feeling that had sat at home in Braedon’s chest for so long felt like it was shrinking. He found himself chuckling at the stories Tony explained, remembering them in tandem with fresh eyes.

The times Tony had nearly burned down any number of mills and processing facilities. The rampant animals that added chaos to his life, including amongst their diversity a very confused bear and a unfortunately horny moose.

Braedon was crying with laughter as he and Tony pieced together how he’d pranked an old shitty supervisor. Braedon could practically hear that supervisor’s rage as his computer downloaded virus after virus, prompted by a helpful little auto-clicker that Tony had installed one late night after another unpaid bout of overtime.

Tony physically unwound as their conversation went on and the number of empty beer bottles increased. He no longer looked stiff in his new clothes, rather his relaxed muscles filled them out comfortably. His confidence changed him, his smile lighting up the room and his mood infectious.

Braedon hadn’t been gay before this, but a shift in his sexuality had been a part of the deal. Tony’s basic information had been open to him and a little pansexuality felt like a pretty good upgrade to Tony’s own deal.

Braedon could remember all the times Tony had felt wrong in the mirror melding into one. Picking apart himself for looking too old, too awkward and too fake. It was all insane of course, as Braedon could easily dissect. Braedon felt his own mind guide that fragment of Tony in his mind to see what he saw, forcing it to witness Braedon’s own perspective instead of that toxic mindset downloaded into the guy since his father had disowned him.

Braedon could feel all his own shit get digested into the well of personality inside his head. Not destroyed exactly, but reorganized. His own insecurities broken down by the logic of Tony Abott as the logic of Braedon Santoro did the same in turn. Fast tracking therapy with only a couple bottles of booze.

He could feel his own memories of coding alone slot next to Tony’s life of construction. The things that made Tony burned brighter in his mind compared to his own pieces, but they were never devoured. Braedon felt himself begin to lurk behind the soul of the man in front of him, but it wasn’t anything like a mask.

The deal hadn’t been to bury Braedon beneath Tony. Braeden would still be there but the man that Tony was would predominate. Tony would trade him his individuality in exchange for this new self. Braeden would give up his old life in exchange for an equal claim to this new identity.

Braeden became Tony, from inside out as the beer coated his tongue like cold nectar. Felt himself become saturated with the man, siphoning every bit of his personality into his soul, feeling the ichor in his blood tremble as it changed the body to fit the mind.

His scrawny body filled with density, calories from the beer being more than efficiently transformed into muscle fibers and sturdy bones. The tar in his lungs dwindled and he breathed clearly. Tony had never smoked a single day in his life and the man that was once Braeden savored the feeling. Savored the experience of having lived a life with more than microwaved meals, even if that life had its own many faults.

The loose clothing filled, his sweatshirt and sweatpants becoming oversized. He’d taken his shoes off prior to his first drink to Tony’s recommendation. Tony had larger feet than him as well as larger everything. Even his pants fit differently, filled much differently than they were before.

It was strange to no longer identify with a name, but he couldn’t think of himself anymore as Braeden. It didn’t fit anymore, supplanted by the name of the man in front of him. It wasn’t just that man’s name anymore, they shared it now.

They needed to share more than that.

Interviews should never go where they took it, but interviews rarely meddled with identity on such a scale. Tony had more understanding for the man in front of him than anyone else and the call to act on it was irresistible.

It happened when the man that was once Braeden began to strip his clothes off, forgoing the last thing that differentiated him from the other. They’d planned to don him in matching clothes and continue their conversation with the last of the prescripted beers. Head to the facility’s temporary doctor to confirm a success.

Tony had joked that he’d only felt this comfortable with another man once. The new Tony had replied that he knew and the part of Braeden permanently at his core flirted. Some charged comment that made them both blush, something about how it would be easier for them to match if Tony just took off his clothes.

They’d been awkward in it, because how couldn’t someone be awkward masturbating like that. A whole other body added to the scheme, even if that body was one you’d always known. They’d forgotten to remove the clothes of the first Tony entirely, so caught up in the feeling of that lockstep of their shared bodies working as one. Whatever was done would be mimicked in turn, a duet in symmetrical motion.

They’d finished together and the awkwardness dissolved. Both no longer held back by the fear of judgment from the other, when they functioned like two parts of the same being.

They’d gotten dressed together, tying their boots up and pulling their shirts on. An entirely new outfit that both Tonys reveled in without the presence of strangers making them second guess it. The one that was still Braeden in memory could feel the twist of amusement at their preening, his heart racing as he looked at his new twin. Braeden had never strongly cared for his appearance, but the sensation of feeling good in his new boots and new jeans was exhilarating compared to the apathy of before.

They’d headed to the doctor together, excitement in every step. With a clean bill of health and permission to continue on with the next man the following day, they were a force of nature.

One became two. Two prepared for three to become one. Three identical men lining up identification and licenses for a factory’s worth of them. Buying clothes in mass to handle a platoon of them.

The first Tony became lost in the crowd and it felt good. Most people weren’t cut out to spread their sense of self across so many. Tony seemed built for it, the pressure of being the best dulled to nothing as he became part of the best. Seeing numerous of himselves discover their identity as a group in their work and downtime. Using the memories of the men they once were to build upon what it meant to be Tony Abott.

They’d bring all kinds of folks home and show them what it was like to be with them. Give the few a taste of a whole world of confidence built through reinforcement. Strings became strong when wrapped into a rope and they were a realized person together.

Tony Abott, operating Abott Inc. Alone yet definitely not.

Pictures taken from Construction Bros series by GymDreams on Deviantart.

[talonabraxas]

"Unified Dream Field" Jeff Suvillan

[lime-bloods]

Not an Enigma, and Certainly Not a Curse: the "Ultimate Self" in Hussie's Own Words

I've found myself, lately, in several conversations in a row where the other guy and myself weren't on the same page about what the Ultimate Self meant; and though I welcome the opportunity for discussion, explaining my position over and over again has cost me minutes of my screen life that I simply won't win back. So this post is a departure from my usual fare in that it's more for my own benefit than that of anybody else.

I've been over Davepeta's "superceding bodyless and timeless persona that crosses the boundaries of paradox space" enough already, so if you're interested in the Ultimate Self as it is in Homestuck, I recommend you read "Homestuck's Gnosticism: The Conflict", and then, if that piques your attention, you continue with the follow-up "The World/The Wheel". For the purposes of this post, though, I want to keep analysis, interpretation and hypothesising to a minimum. As the title indicates, this is the Ultimate Self not as I describe it, or as characters describe it, but - so to speak - straight from the horse's mouth.

In Andrew Hussie's commentary on Homestuck: Book 6, p. 312:

Oftentimes, when characters lose certain qualities that came to define them, there's this sense of liberation they seem to experience. They become a happier, more relieved, easier-going version of themselves. When Aradia ditches a defining quality we came to know her by (being dead), she becomes a much happier and self-actualized Aradia. Sollux also seems to be chilling out now that his defining properties (bifurcation, etc.) have been KO'd. He had a mouth full of gnarly teeth that gave him a wicked lisp (gone), eyes full of nasty laser beams (gone, along with his eyesight), and a brain full of doomsday visions and bipolar disorder (also gone—well, maybe not the bipolar thing, because that's probably not how that works, but whatever). You get more of this kind of thing in even higher degrees with some of the fusion stuff that happens later (Arquius, Davepeta), where characters become almost euphoric versions of themselves for having been completely liberated from certain self-limitations which previously defined them. The concept of an "ultimate self," which appears much later, probably has its roots way back to stuff like this, which got the ball rolling on the idea that a more complete or fulfilled self is one that becomes free from mortal limitations, or the idiosyncrasies which comprise a specific instance of one version of yourself. Hence an ultimate self is an aggregate of someone's full potential. It's not just doing away with negative traits, but summing up all iterations of yourself, including ones without those traits, allowing you to move beyond them. Or maybe more accurately, to view them as insignificant in the grand totality of what a person really is.

Importantly, what Hussie does here is draw the conceptual line from the themes of Acts 1-5 to what are often interpreted by some as radically different, even left-field themes through Act 6. Think of this as an extension of one of Homestuck's meta-themes, where the comic undergoes a series of escalations that take simple conflicts to their logical extremes: we start the story worried about a Reckoning which might destroy the Earth, then end up with the more pressing concern that a Rapture is about to end reality as we know it. The Ultimate Self is the end result of the exact same kind of escalation; where the God Tiers are a method of becoming a better version of oneself by merging with one's "ideal" dream body, the Ultimate Self is the logical conclusion that one can become the best version by unifying with every body.

To draw my own conceptual line back to Homestuck: Book 5, page 409:

This connects to the basic question of whether to embrace the regimentation of a heroic path conveniently laid out for you (the expectation), or to reject it as the shallow and rigid confinement of personal destiny (the deviation). These issues are expressed through the fundamental language of platonic idealism: perfect ideas of things, and then specific, imperfect instances of those ideas, or varied permutations, evolutions, or hacks of those ideas through alchemy. The way Sburb "should" go is an ideal (expectation), but the disastrous, chaotic way it actually goes is an imperfect instance (deviation). An "idea" of a person, such as Rose, along with her regimented heroic quest for growth, and all the great things she might imagine herself to become if she followed it, is an ideal (expectation). The messy, flawed, yet more genuinely human individual she does become resulting from her errant choices and rejection of formalism, is an imperfect instance of an ideal (deviation). What's the bottom line here? This is a lot. I know it's a lot. Homestuck is, in fact, a lot.

I've added some of my own emphasis there again, but that whole extract is worth reading. The reason I bolded that part is because this "Platonic idealism" is something Hussie talks about a lot in his commentary, and I think that commentary is essential reading for anyone who wants to even get their foot in the door on this topic. Again, this is something I've blogged about extensively already, so there's more than just Hussie's word to take for it if you're really interested; but for the sake of this post, I'll finish off with, again, what Hussie himself has to say on the matter, all the way back in Homestuck: Book 1, page 123:

With things like Athenums and Perfectly Generic Objects locked and loaded, Sburb architecture seems to be circling widely around a game abstraction-based systemization of Platonic idealism. Homestuck deals with what I am going to roughly characterize as THEMES.

[accio-victuuri]

excerpts from this article made by the styling director (Zhao Yige) of One and Only “The styling analysis of OnO is finally here!”

When I received the script, I also received an extremely detailed biography, which covered the personality traits and growth experiences of all the characters. Street dance is a field that I have never explored before. Seeing the mental journey of these characters, I feel like I have got a key, opening up the imagination of each character in an orderly manner. In the early preparations, my team and I did a lot of desk work, checked many videos of hip-hop competitions, movies, variety shows, etc., and also visited some domestic B-boy dancers for in-depth understanding. I also found Liao Bo, the host of the hip-hop competition, and learned about some hip-hop competition formats, rules and dress requirements for different dance types, etc., and cleared up many conceptual misunderstandings. I am very grateful for his help.

The styling plan for this film is divided into two layers: life and dreams.

The life part is mainly centered on Chen Shuo. This part of the group portraits of the characters should have a realistic temperament close to the market, conform to some settings of the characters in the script but should not be over-shaped, on the one hand, choose low-saturated colors in the clothing color system and with natural texture.

The closest people to Chen Shuo are his mother, uncle, and Brother Xie, followed by the scope of his daily life, such as the neighbors of the vegetable market he visits every day, and other people he comes into contact with in the working area. The most important of these is Chen Shuo’s family. Family of three. For the description of these three people, we did not deliberately exaggerate the embarrassment in the lives of the "little people" - the clothes are old but not dirty. Although there is a certain grayness in the overall clothing tone in this part of the processing, what is conveyed from the state of the characters is not bitter and depressing, but a flat and warm feeling.

The dream part revolves around Ding Lei, the exclamation mark and the stage of the three games. The feeling conveyed by "Dream" is youthful and high-spirited. The director hopes that the audience can see a group of bright and energetic people, so this part will be rich in clothing color selection and matching, and then use some emphases to shape different character personalities.

1. Chen Shuo (played by Wang Yibo)

In the early stages of preparation, I was still a little worried about not being able to turn Wang Yibo into Chen Shuo. Yibo has a superior figure and belongs to the "clothes rack" who can wear everything decently, while Chen Shuo's scenes are all about the current time, space and situations, not overhead living spaces and distant character settings. We made a lot of subtractions on Chen Shuo’s overall look. On the one hand ; The layering method and oversize silhouette dressing (loose clothes will cause movement ), the matching should be as simple as possible.

​At the same time , we also refer to the dressing habits of most B-boys, such as: sweatpants, light fabric overalls, simple T-shirts, etc., which are convenient for dancers to wear single item. Judging from Chen Shuo's living situation, there is no distinction between dance training clothes and daily private clothes in terms of clothing function. The styles of these two parts should be unified. In order to add texture to the traces of life, the distressed artist washes and exposes the clothes repeatedly until they fade. In addition, the effect of Chen Shuo's worn parts of clothing due to his dancing habits as a B-boy and the details of the outer edge of the soles caused by a lot of training have also been enhanced.

In terms of hairstyle, Chen Shuo has neat short hair, the feeling that he could have trimmed it in a barber shop near the Lamai restaurant. In terms of technique, the hair stylists of the crew were required to try not to remove the volume of the hair, nor to trim the layers, but to use more insensitivity to the hair, so as to present the image of a young boy with no sense of modification.

After the makeup trial, the director discussed with us several times, and finally removed several sets of light-colored matching in the plan. The overall feeling of the dark-colored clothing can make Chen Shuo more pure and restrained, and condense love in the heart instead of externalizing it.

Apart from dancing and commercial performances, Chen Shuo is also busy with making a living and running around to deliver meals. He lacks the sophistication of urban young people. Therefore, in the state of Yibo's full makeup, we also processed the skin texture and added some special effects of noise, graininess, and sun exposure to get closer to Chen Shuo's daily life. In terms of character background, Chen Shuo is still a boy with love in his heart and his spirit has not been broken.

Chen Shuo’s costume style doesn’t change much throughout the film (except for the special costumes for the two battles). As the plot progresses, his growth mainly takes place inside the soul and the energy generated needs to be maintained within the logic of the story. Consistency of character status .

[msmural]

Aurora

Her voice is like the sweet taste of hot cocoa on a winter’s night.

It crackles and rasps, but it’s beautiful to me in ways I can’t fully know.

She glows like the sky overhead on just the right moonless flight.

Greens dancing around each other, giving the world a second glow.

Her hair is this delicate mess of curls,

But of course, she forgets to brush, despite her complaints.

Each morning I wake having dreamt of her touch, like a locked away pearl.

I desire things from her that betray the saints. 

There’s this cold, icy sea between me and her.

Mountains and valleys that seem too far to cross, yet I know I just must.

Each moment I can feel myself grow closer to her soft pur.

Every day I feel this feeling I cannot control, this lust.

I think about her, her awkward sorrys, and cute giggles, each day.

Every morning is waking to the disappointment that she's not there. 

I dream of a time when the ice melts and I can see her, perhaps come May.

I hope to unified fields of our universe, for an answer to my prayer

That which stands between us.

Time and money, such a vile beast. 

I know that time will go by, and money accrue, so I won’t fuss.

I know that such time will only see my love increase.

[eatmangoesnekkid]

You have the ability to do great things on a level this world has never seen before. But to be that kind of sun, to shine that brightly, and to live in your truest heart's desires, will require your perpetual death. The person you have been heretofore usually can't come where you are going. Yet if you grew up in the West, you have been taught that death is bad, something to be afraid of, and to separate yourself from. In actuality, death is life. To live afraid of death is to be afraid of living fully alive. Dying can look like being reborn during a dreaming state, then waking up the next day in the light of the morning sun, completely unrecognizable to yourself. Clear, renewed, rested, transformed, and no longer capable of doing the same basic, peasant fuckshit you did yesterday. Unifying opposites is creation. When you become one with opposites, you evolve into a walking unified field of primordial creative energy, able to access feminine and/or masculine energy as needed. And truly unstoppable, even in all your passion and prettiness.

India Ame’ye, Author, Unified Opposites = God Power

[yuwumeniji]

Luxiem & Pokemon

WARNING: Please remember that I am writing about Luxiem based on their characters online and not of the people behind their vtuber avatars, thank you!

EXTRA NOTES: bruhh pokemon came out now i'm going to NOT post any more things because i'll be busy playing /hj..... pray for whatever drafts i have.....

SETTING THE STAGE

i'm not factoring in the pokemon teams/playstyle they've displayed on stream (assuming all members have played a pokemon game live), just vibes lmao

this is just silly and to make up for the fact i'll probably forget to post something this week because i was playing the newer pokemon game LMAO

the signature pokemon and the team types are two totally different things - team types are just a general thing whereas the signature pokemon is like the pikachu to his ash lmao

MORE UNDER THE CUT!

              ⊰᯽⊱┈───── ✧ ─────┈⊰᯽⊱

IKE EVELAND

a trainer with a team filled with whimsical and cute water/fairy type pokemon, but don't be fooled by his soft exterior as something darker lies within. he hails from the aquatic region of Hoenn

by darker i mean i'm trying to make an eki reference while still keeping up with the pokemon theme ok

his partner pokemon, surprisingly enough, is a Mimikyu - with the cuteness of the fairy type and the darkness of well... a dark type pokemon, ike seems to vibe pretty well with the little fellow

the kind of trainer who seeks beauty within his region - he wants to document all the kinds of pokemon and study as a researcher

LUCA KANESHIRO

a wild card who isn't restricted to pokemon types, but very well known to be a friendly fellow who wants to befriend all kinds of people and pokemon. a sunny fellow from the island region of Alola

ok if we were to boil it down to two types... maybe dragon and steel

his signature pokemon is a Pyroar - strong, elegant and well... a lion. what more must i say?

either way, he hails from a long line of champions and he wishes to also claim the champion title for himself, however, he found himself having more fun battling without any regard to the champion title and befriending everyone he has met. he decided that befriending everyone and every pokemon in the world was more important to him than the champion title

MYSTA RIAS

a quirky detective whose team is filled with electric types and fighting types. he hails from Sinnoh, but is often seen region-jumping due to the nature of his job

electrifying on the battlefield and full of punch, mysta is often the target of regional bad guys due to his sleuthing nature, thankfully his quick-witted team is there to help.

he's very affectionate towards his Nickit - with that said, more often than not it appears as if the little fox pokemon is seen teasing the poor detective over most mundane situations

mysta dreams of a unified world and is on a journey to snuff out evil organizations each region faces.

SHU YAMINO

a trainer of the mystic arts... and of psychic/ghost pokemon. he's a guardian of a shrine residing in the Johto region

shu's signature pokemon is surprisingly enough, a Zoroark - both are mysterious and often behind some sort of illusion.

shu's been in and out of the psychic world for as long as he remembers and is often the target of malevolent souls of those with strong hatred, thankfully with the help of his pokemon, he has avoided trouble with such whisps.

as mentioned, shu is the guardian of a shrine somewhere in johto; he uses his skills as a pokemon trainer in order to protect said shrine - but he does often go out on field days to become even stronger as a guardian.

VOX AKUMA

a popular restaurant owner from the Unova region who has a passion for the culinary arts and for pokemon who are polar opposites - grass and fire.

he's got a Simisage by his side - with the help of his signature pokemon, vox is able to both harvest newly grown vegetables and cook at his restaurant!

he and his pokemon team are often seen running around a kitchen and restaurant floor in the Unova region, he's most popular for his home-style cooking and a lively restaurant.

he dreams of making his restaurant a big name in Castelia city and a dream he'll soon reach with the help of his pokemon team and loyal customers!

[moononmyfloor]

Hi Producer (正好遇见你) Infodump

Disclaimer: I have no idea about the accuracy of the information shared in the drama, I'm merely transcribing for future reference purposes. Proceed with caution!

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Ep 30-31: Ancient Makeup

In "Strategies of Zhao" from "Zhan Guo Ce", women from Zheng wore makeup on their cheeks and brows. Cheek and brow makeup already existed in that era and were part of women's daily life. Men also used makeup.

Xuande Emperor Zhu Zhanji wears a sun hat, pearl earrings, a military outfit with arrow sleeves, and a suit of yellow armor. How fashionable.

On this screen of 18 scholars [Qi Xiu Lei Gao], we can see a man wearing a wangjin, which was promoted by Emperor Zhu Yuanzhang. One day, Zhu Yuanzhang was on an anonymous trip to Shenle Temple. He saw a Taoist priest tie a wangjin under the lamp. Curious, he asked, "What might this be?"

Answered the Taoist priest, "It's a wangjin. Wrapped your hair with it and the hair shall remain tidy."

Zhu Yuanzhang was delighted. He thought the item bore the meaning of "unifying the land". He then decreed it be worn. According to "The History of Ming: Carriages and Clothing", all men of the Ming Dynasty, regardless of status, all wore a wangjin.

Shen Congwen made an inference after observing the colors of the outfits shown in "The Night Revels of Han Xizai", that it was produced between the fall of Southern Tang and the Chunhua era. Who can accomplish that now?

.

Recreating those makeup styles, the cultural meaning it carries, the social background behind the changes of outfit designs and makeup styles etc need to be paid attention to.

Wu Zetian's Peach Blossom Powder

Classic Makeup Restoration

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"Hands as delicate as tender shoots, skin smooth and fair with shine. Neck slender like that of a swan, teeth white and lined-up perfectly.

A plump forehead and long thin curvy brows, a smile so enchanting, her eyes so alluring.")

In "Odes of Wei, the Classic of Poetry", the sung Princess Zhuang Jiang who was so graceful and gorgeous was the embodiment of the classical beauty of Chinese women. Over centuries, generations of women have pursued beauty tirelessly, leaving behind countless wonderful dreams created with poetry.

"Her waist is tied with a white silk stripe. Her ears are adorned with lustrous earrings. Her fingers are slim like the tips of a green onion. Her lips are red as if covered in vermilion."

That is the beauty of a woman's solemn makeup.

"Eyes filled with shyness. A faint smile with her red lips."

Such is the beauty of bashfulness.

"Mountains on the screens glitter with the morning sunshine, her fair hair on her fair skin is like a cloud over a snowy field. She lazily rises to paint her brows, and finally grooms after a long delay."

That is a woman's beauty at leisure.

"Her clothes flowy like clouds and her face gorgeous like blooming flowers. The morning dew blown by the spring breeze enriches the color of the blossom."

This is a woman's alluring beauty.

"Raindrops fall on her rosy cheeks, mingling with tears and her rouge."

This is the beauty of a woman's tearful countenance.

The beauty of Chinese women is reflected in the harmony and coordination of hairstyles, makeup, attire, footwear, and accessories. It forms a complete and systematic women's boudoir culture, leaving behind beautiful and captivating legends.

(Check out this gorgeous traditional style cosmetics chest btw😍)

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Documentary segment:

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More Hi Producer posts

[weaselle]

i miss this. I've just been in such a non-creative rut for the last few years. But i'm just starting to break out of it lately. Even started a bone sculpting project a few weeks ago (processing the bones is talking several weeks as it turns out)

Anyway i saw a post on here yesterday that got me briefly interested in my old video game idea and the artist who posted it just agreed to let me commission them to do concept art for it and i'm getting pretty excited about it!

So it's time to go back through and reconnect with Starsys 9 my dream video game project.

It combines a mix of genres, so players can be like, a cyborg human piloting a robot mech, or an alien beast creature, or an elven vampire necromancer, etc.... playing these diverse characters in a MOBA ARPG with FPS and RTS elements.

(please excuse my "drawings", you can see why i'm excited to commission someone for some better concept art)

there are 3 factions: Cyberians, the Sporeborn, and Dimenkind

Cyberians - humanoid cyborgs that often pilot robot mech suits

Sporeborn - Different alien species (many insectoid) all unified through infection by a sapient fungus

Dimens or Dimenkind - fantasy/horror genre characters like dwarves and werewolves that are pulled from other dimensions by godlike cthulhuic trans-dimensional beings (hence the name Dimens, from the word dimension, but also like demons)

each faction requires some but not all of the resources available on the planet, (water, organic hydrocarbons, minerals/metal, sulfur, methane) and they fight for access to, or control of, these resources. Resources typically need to be harvested and processed, and each faction has special installations/work units to do this.

Each faction has access to specific types of damage, with some overlap. Each faction tends to have weakness to certain damage types and resistance to certain damage types. Cyberians do: kinetic(bullets)/explosive/physical (melee)/electric/laser Sporeborn do: plasma/physical (melee)/chemical/biological Dimenkind do: physical (melee)/elemental/magic damage/curse damage (debuffs)

The total effect of resource needs, damage weaknesses, damage resistance, and damage capabilities results in a sort of nesting doll system of rock/paper/scissors relationships

Each faction maintains a control zone, in which their dominant resources are provided to player characters for free in AOE dispersal fields.

Cyberians use relay beacons to broadcast resources as particle beams made of individual atoms to be reconstructed into materials. Sporeborn use spore piles to waft clouds of spores that provide sporeborn characters with resources, and Dimens use altars that generate large circles of magic energy.

Another key feature of the game is team-leading. Each player has a certain number of points to spend on npc supports that are assigned to them. There are three size classes of support, each size class costs a different number of points, so a player can choose how to spend their support points to have a whole bunch of small supports, or one of each size, or one big one and a few small ones etc. Some skill tree options increase the number of points available to spend on supports.

Cyberian supports are droids and bots, Sporeborn supports are spore-infected alien animals, and Dimen supports are goblins and zombies and trolls and things.

personal npc supports can be given complex commands using a communication wheel. Leveling up increases the number and complexity of these commands

Each faction's control zone also has unassigned npc supports wandering around doing control zone maintenance and upgrade tasks. Players can temporarily command a couple of these unassigned npcs, as players raise their rank they increase the number of npcs they can claim in this way. These npcs can only be given a small number of very basic commands. However, they can be put under the control of the players personal supports, assigned to perform the same behaviors as that support unit, who can then be given the more complex commands. In this way groups of unassigned npc supports can be deployed by player characters to perform complex maneuvers as a unit.

Additionally, each faction has a technique for taking over command of enemy npcs. Dimens can raise dead npcs, Cyberians can hijack npcs trekie-borg style, and Sporeborn can infect npcs with their fungal spores

There is a lot more (character class breakdowns, huge portions of additional gameplay mechanics like how the RTS elements work, i even wrote a short story as a kind of trailer to introduce the game and showcase a sort of vibe for it) but this post is long enough already

[smakkabagms]

There are no creatures in the field, nor over the old, anxious sea and hunger, the unifying terror, spreads its touch in me - Against my will, I hold onto it, the weight enters my hands like an inevitability: there will always be some need - How could we ever forget it? I am like everything else, now - the dreams of childhood  are lost and my mouth blackens with the congealed rot of old fruit I had picked up and I should have set down I should have set it all down -- but all is with me still, each moonflower wide-eyed memory, each moment of my inexorable loneliness each animal humiliation as my hands arch against nothing

[bylertruther]

WILL & VECNA QUOTES —

In this gathering place, where violence is rife, at the boundary of that which escapes cohesion, he who reflects within cohesion realizes that there is no longer any room for him. (Theory of Religion, Georges Bataille) Anguish is what makes humankind, it seems; not anguish alone, but anguish transcended and the act of transcending it. (Erotism: Death and Sensuality, Georges Bataille) Perhaps many things inside you have been transformed; perhaps somewhere, someplace deep inside your being, you have undergone important changes while you were sad. (Letters to a Young Poet, Rainer Maria Rilke) Things fall apart. The centre cannot hold. Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world, the blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere the ceremony of innocence is drowned. The best lack all conviction, while the worst are full of passionate intensity. (The Second Coming, W. B. Yeats) And there God is waiting to eat him. Later he will go out again, but he will be changed, he will have become different, after being eaten and digested by God. (Waiting for God, Simone Weil) What's requisite for communication is a defect or "fault." Communication enters like death through a chink in the armor. What's required is an overlapping of two lacerations, mine, yours. (Guilty, Georges Bataille) I stood there. There was a hole in my head where the thing stepped in. The hole grew wider. (The Dream of the Unified Field, Jorie Graham) I am like a small creature swallowed whole by a monster, she thought, and the monster feels my tiny little movements inside. (The Haunting of Hill House, Shirley Jackson) If I thus consume immoderately, I reveal to my fellow beings that which I am intimately: Consumption is the way in which separate beings communicate. […] Everything shows through, everything is open and infinite between those who consume intensely. But nothing counts then; violence is released and it breaks forth without limits, as the heat increases. (The Accursed Share, Georges Bataille) Cannibalism, the most elementary act of exploitation, that of turning the other directly into a comestible; of seeing the other in the most primitive terms of use. (The Sadeian Woman and the Ideology of Pornography, Angela Carter) I feel quite strange. I feel as though I were some other person, in a kingdom of shadows, and can't believe I'll ever return to being a creature of flesh and blood. (Letters to Sartre, Simone de Beauvoir) Some things take root in the brain and just don’t let go. (Slow Dance, Tim Seibles)

[talonabraxas]

"Octavepus" "Unified Dream Field" by Jeff Sullivan

[acorpsecalledcorva]

Currently reading Dissociation and the Dissociative Disorders: Past, Present, and Future and this section is very interesting.

It's very Jargony but the chapter, Dissociative Multiplicity and Psychoanalysis is all about exploring the theories of the self and the psyche to see if the mechanics of structural dissociation, the formation of alters, can be identified and explained in the wider field of Psychoanalysis. There's a lot of chicken and egg type stuff trying to work out things like if the hypnotisability found in dissociative groups is caused by trauma or if the hypnotisability and proneness to dissociation is an inherent defense mechanism that's utilised in the face of trauma but this section represents a turning point in the field.

The Watkins' ego state theory laid the groundwork for a lot of trauma and dissociation therapy practices that we all love and enjoy today but it would seem that its development started out as a much broader inclusion of dissociative experiences of multiplicity that the ToSD honed and refined to a purely traumagenic model while other models like Internal Family Systems can be seen as another branch of a similar therapeutic process.

On the Wikipedia article for Ego State Therapy someone has written this on the subject but as is noted there are no sources to look into that properly delve into the distinction

but regardless of debates around "true multiple personality" this does at least highlight and identify a mechanism via which the disintegration of the personality into discrete packages, when viewing the personality as a modular collection of rudimentary parts that work together to create an adaptable but unified whole, is possible.

In the ToSD, disintegration due to trauma leads to a more rigid disintegration and walling off of parts of the personality that becomes a maladaptive autonomic response as it becomes an alternative process to a adaptability, a skill disrupted by trauma (in the same way that a building made with too rigid materials will fail in an earthquake and need to have a quiet lie down) but the ability to organise parts isn't lost through the development of adaptability as a skill, merely that the building of (semi)impregnable barriers isn't utilised if not necessary as this is a psychologically taxing and costly process that would not benefit the brain owner.

I think a good example of this kind of thing would be the recent discussions around the experiences of writing fiction as being plural in nature. By utilizing absorption in the creative writing process, (little d) dissociating the real world away and engaging in the narrative of the world the author has built, it makes sense that the (more or less) temporary organisation of ego states would be very useful in creating character consistency that would allow the author to engage psychically with said characters similar to the creation and engagement with dream characters during REM.

Anyway, this is all stuff that hasn't properly been researched one way or the other but it feels satisfying to me as a potential psychological mechanism and explanation for some non traumagenic multiplicity experiences that I theorised this was a possible method of action in a previous post and then find that this is actually something currently being discussed.

[pitythefool888]

I continually dream about water, natural bodies of water- lakes, rivers streams. Human bodies are about 60% water. but the brain is 80%. Energy can travel through water. Resonances have distinct and tangible effects of the shape of water, this is the field of Cymatics: the process of visualizing sound and vibrations through matter. Music is patterned sound waves rippling through. We are moved tangibly and physically as the water inside our bodies activates. Music is sacred in nearly all cultures. I dream I am unavoidably returning to the water oneness of water. I fear I will drown. I read a book in my college course that talked about the memory of water. Water Memory is the ability of water to retain a memory of substances previously dissolved in it even after an arbitrary number of serial dilutions. This is not new information- indigenous cultures have upheld this from the start. Water is one of the great unifiers ie. needs for a living organism. Speaks to universal humanity- we all need water to live, despite all other differing variables. The shapes formed in water elicited by wave patterns and cymatic formation mirror geometric designs found throughout human history- cathedral windows to cells, particle accelerators, calendar systems, cultural art. Same designs occuring instrincially. Convergent evolution. I am returning to the water.