#tessernaut

[agentskyhouse]

Coming back from a night ritual of walking through the abyss immemorial. A snippet from some 4am grounding. #twospirit #puoin #tessernaut #quantum #queer #nonbinary

[agentskyhouse-blog]

You know you sent your babyself stories on the time waves when you're 33 and finally reading Burroughs and you go "Wait. Wait I already know this" to the extent that it seeded and flourished in your soul long, long ago.

[agentskyhouse-blog]

It is a near burden (but only if you allow it) to know how to do this. Tweak this. Run this. Be this. Tessering. Oh you grow up with the word ingrained in your being and don’t think much of it and then one day you’re looking back and the life you’ve sent back to yourself, the path you’ve lived and when you get down to it set up, complete with detours and landmines and learning experiences and suddenly all you can say, seeing this, processing it Is “Oh shit.” Sometimes “Oh fuck you” to your future, but also present, and past selves. Not self, singular, because every second there’s more than more. Because it suddenly answers and yet changes the question of fate. Of god. Of foreshadowing. Of the why that plagues us. Listen, listen here: If we are all aspects of god, the universe, life, the everything and the nothing, then we are these things. We, being these things, live in a state or states of constant information filtering, otherwise we would be allowing ourselves to be part of the constantly churning and eroding and limitless and unchanging forever that is godtheuniverselifeeverythingandnothing. We become a cell, smaller than sometimes. We attend our job and do not often reach out beyond our personal bubble’s membrane least we fall into the ocean of it all. But sometimes, one of us gets tapped. Ping’d, as The Knife calls it. Woken up. And we branch out. We spread, oft hazardly in our overwhelmed state. Infecting and tapping others while we continue to fight for the question. The “why”. Clawing and grasping and huffing and screaming and dragging the mud of the universes until we come full circle and realize we are the answer. We are god. The universe. Life. The everything and the nothing. Until we realize the full circle we came is actually a hyperdimensional nonshape beyond our wildest dreams but coinciding with our simplest and most doubted thoughts and maybe I wasn’t very clear but let me repeat myself: You are here because you put yourself here. You, further down the line, has set this up. For you. And what’s more, the you beyond that you is doing it too. Sing it with me now! “Doo-be-doo-be-doo.” That’s the spirit! Now I know, I hear you, wincing where ever you are down at this page and refusing to really commit to such an idea, but that’s the point. If you’re wincing, then you knew down the line to pick this up but not be ready yet. Let it germinate until the right time. And it will. You’re stuck with this down and this too shall not ever fully pass through your system. But maybe you’re the other you, maybe you took the other path that you also laid out. One of countless. And you’re feeling that hum. The pitch is right. You’re possibly over processing, so please remember to cool if you fry, unless you’re ready to rocket on up and out for a bit. And that’s fine too. But don’t get sidetracked. Don’t wreck yourself turning the why into an attempt at continued omnipotence. For the love of your fucking self, don’t turn this into a control-freak bit. Don’t try to rebuild the wormhole to your specifications, now that you’re here. Because you already did that, further along, and you set it up so that you can’t possibly fuck it up for yourself further along. Oh don’t get me wrong – you can fuck yourself up here and now, but that’s factored in. Whatever you do, this was planned for. That sly thought, that attempt to screw it all up to just flip that bird to a future you, or to this writing? Yeah, you know about that. The you you down the line knows you better than you will ever know yourself, but you have no idea what they’re like or capable of. Kind of a mindfuck of a deal, ain’t it? But that’s the joke, the marrow to the story if it were. The [st] PUSH may have put it best when they said “People can’t accept that righteous and good cake for what it is. Simplicity’s a snare and all we want is to croak for it. Anything to stranglehold this reality to your tits. Anything to think you’ve got something tangible to grip on to. And that’s the rub: no one can let go, no matter the pay off. We’re just too hard wired to fuck with the jerk upstairs, especially when it’s ourselves.”

Cat, Vacuous Tesser, LRS series