Delays, Concepts, and Questions:
All of my senses take time to feel. I am reacting to something that already happened while the new event keeps happening. When I process a visual image in my mind through my eyes, it takes time to compute it. Thus every single moment I experience is inherently delayed from the source moment. I am living in the present, experiencing the past or perhaps living entirely in the past. There is a delay in everything, I am not sure if I can feel that impulse or something happening as it is happening, only residual waves of what was. Like stars that burst in deep dark space and we still see their light for ages only delayed. I want to be in the heart of that burst sometimes!
If I travel on a distant satellite far, far away and look back on the earth with such astonishing resolution and detail - will I see dinosaurs in the light? If I cannot travel at the speed of light to reach these impossibly distant sights then if I listen ever so closely and intercept and translate old and minute earth sounds can I hear their roars as their tear through the underbrush of a the pre-historic jungle? Do their roars still vibrate through me right now as I speak, vibrate through this very planet very softly like a slight tremor many miles from the epicenter of a quake or quivering lips about to touch.
fun: Using these distant tremors to aid in thought or harmony or emotion of music. Harvesting the distant tremors and resonances of ancient screams of volcano explosions of Pompeii or slaves collecting bees making honey or of faded tan drums pounding away during a Mayan sacrifice to aid in the richness of my simple songs.
fun: Perhaps part of why practice makes perfect with instrument learning and song, the collective result of all of my learning and great/terrible songs, tested and failed experiences returning to their source instrument and bolstering and strengthening it to my current state. Like an aura. It makes me what I am today, these foolish things reflecting on me.
Can I travel long and far and fast to see myself writing his message as I write it right now? If the second I publish this I run up - perhaps. Space is closer than Australia, just going up takes more effort. fun: Mammoth pogo sticks.
When I take pictures with my camera am I in every single photo I create? Can you see me reflecting off the eyes of my subjects, and even the waxy leaves, the bark of trees, the sturdy table or birds nest they will become years later. Can I tell if the photographer said "Smile!" by the blades of grass bending ever so slightly in the wind spurred on by the gusts escaping their mouth?
If I travel on a distant satellite far, far away and look back on the earth with such astonishing resolution and detail - will I see dinosaurs in the light? If I cannot travel at the speed of light to reach these impossibly distant sights then if I listen ever so closely and intercept and translate old and minute earth sounds can I hear their roars as their tear through the underbrush of a the pre-historic jungle? Do their roars still vibrate through me right now as I speak, vibrate through this very planet very softly like a slight tremor many miles from the epicenter of a quake or quivering lips about to touch.
fun: Using these distant tremors to aid in thought or harmony or emotion of music. Harvesting the distant tremors and resonances of ancient screams of volcano explosions of Pompeii or slaves collecting bees making honey or of faded tan drums pounding away during a Mayan sacrifice to aid in the richness of my simple songs.
fun: Perhaps part of why practice makes perfect with instrument learning and song, the collective result of all of my learning and great/terrible songs, tested and failed experiences returning to their source instrument and bolstering and strengthening it to my current state. Like an aura. It makes me what I am today, these foolish things reflecting on me.
Can I travel long and far and fast to see myself writing his message as I write it right now? If the second I publish this I run up - perhaps. Space is closer than Australia, just going up takes more effort. fun: Mammoth pogo sticks.
When I take pictures with my camera am I in every single photo I create? Can you see me reflecting off the eyes of my subjects, and even the waxy leaves, the bark of trees, the sturdy table or birds nest they will become years later. Can I tell if the photographer said "Smile!" by the blades of grass bending ever so slightly in the wind spurred on by the gusts escaping their mouth?
