Sometimes I feel like all the mystery and meaning of life can just get reduced to its lowest common denominators.I don't feel 'human'. I feel like a collection of DNA, hormones, blood, tissue, thoughts, hearts beats, etc..
I don't feel 'alive'. I feel like I breath. Walk. Talk. Mark time to a larger drum of which I have no control
I don't feel 'moved'. I respond to impulses. A kind of evolved "cause and effect". More "effect". Less "cause".
Where is the intrinsic value? What happened to the art in colour?
There is a redeeming hope in this 'reductionalism'. All things reduced are componentised to things we "know", see, feel, touch, or discoverable within the realms of the human experience. By and large. I guess an increasing symptom of the post-learned/enlightenment/modern culture where information is king and knowledge increases at rates that the average person finds both exciting and overwhelming.
A casualty being the mystery of life; as it scuttles to redeem the increasingly remote undusted corners of the rooms of human dominion, or relegated to the fantasies of children, who in due course will uncover its mundanity and allot it along side all other consumerables having served its transient purpose.
So where art thou "Other"? The Great Transcendent. The Wholly Unknowable. Is there more to bits-and-bites in *THE* Killer App that is both accessible and yet unfathomable in its Genius that leaves us gasping, wondering, wishing, believing, hoping, living, really living? Our lives no longer 'reduced' but 'enlarged' into this "Other". Not as losers of Individuality but as discoverers of Self as threads in the fabric of a wholly wonderful and meaningful work of art.
Every feel like that?
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