Alienation

We are the people who are here. What we ask each other is more a reflection of who we are than is what we say into ears, unsolicitied.

Who we ask what is a matter of urgent dialogue in a technocratic world. I have a name and I have a birthday yet such facts are immaterial as is my status as homeless at the moment. Or, without a permanent address except the ecosystem I inhabit. Who knows who or how old I truly am?

No matter where I go, there I am, but when do we truly know who we are?

It's always me looking back at me. Who is that, we might ask ourcells. What we look like is as diverse as flavour. We are all different colours appearing as modern, alien ITentities. We may wonder, where is everybody else that I can see in my computer screen? Do they think about the same things as me?

Where is Wally?

Who is he?

Who am I?

Who are you?

Where are we?

Why?

The wise people on the planet are the ones taking care of the planet. They are in communication with the dreamtime and I use the real world to find them. Water doesn't create WIFI, unlike all the other living entities.

Life is a rental agreement. We get life and we give it [back]. Molecules, belongings, cultures and ideas all borrowed b[u]y the cryptic currencies of the cosmos.

On loan, we are accounted for according to lores which prescribe DNA’s inherent function is to remember how we ‘spent’ our time. Accepting our lives are rented, we wonder who from… or whom to?

Who am I?

Indeed, who are you?

Science claims our ancestors created us, as DNA memory of their emotional experiences shape ours. Likewise, we’re indebted to our children, as our memories will affect theirs. Making sense of the nature of existence is tiring, so between our wake-full hours, we rest. Yet do we know what we are doing when we’re sleeping? Who is qualified to say?

‘Freedom’ describes the search we all beg-in before birth. From two cells we grow in preparation to leave a womb. Our cells fly into Earth’s atmosphere; as leaves leave a tree. Meaning our first memory is not of separation but freedom. We fly yet remain tethered as given/ing freedom is a feeling. Feelings are words learned to attach meaning to perceiving. Events connect our inner emotional experiences to our outer contextual circumstances in [re]cycles of perpetuity.

The internet, as a synthetic cortex of human memory, implies events we upload, record or download in-formation equate ‘our’ liberation. Consider, however; what liberation gigabytes offer a nervous system? What can cellular phones give to a mother? The internets’ blood cells of 0’s and 1’s do circulate yet can’t generate humanimal sensory experience.

Rented from stars, bodies are loaned without warranty. Our cells and selves can’t be recycled without dreaming. Data makes me sick so I dream of blood transfusions. Continuously we awaken, eat things, do stuff, eat, do, eat, do and then sleep. Bodies recycling old cells into new ideas.

Awakening we’re feeling once again, taking new data in.

Memory’s made by meaningful inter-relational exchange. Embodiment is a word our sensory presence translates. Pain mixed with pleasure and doused in photosynthesis. Born hungry, we yearn for Earth experiences. Emotions sense our encounters don’t begin so as to end. Even bodies don’t presume new life will end in death. Rather, creation creates creation in continuous cycles, inter-generation-ally.

Note to cells: we are cups of DNA consciously becoming by being. Nothing but nature actually does create anything.

Human beings make up sense. Some people who believe they’re here to do things compare their lives meaning with others. Do you try to make sense of why others watch you?

What are you searching for when you watch them too?

Being seen is seeing others, yet rarely equally. When seen intuition is processed in our self-esteem. While being, we perceive others doing. Meaning; attempts to be an other means you can’t be you. You being you makes others’ them.

Our consciousness weaves us into the galaxies we all are; as individuation requires being you while simultaneously becoming partly others. To comprehend our first ‘taste’ of food, pain or love, our DNA seeks guidance from [m]others.

Membership to any living Earth species abides by rules governing that all which we take will return, inevitably. We’re cyclicly reminded that no thing is separable from space; neither ‘us’ nor what we discard as waste. Even discarded ideas and emotional fears remain here, within us.

WIFI, however, exists separately from the realms of the sensory. Therefore, although the internet claims to help us search, I wonder for what? What is the internet [t]here for?

Machines can’t interact with me… Um, machines can’t be.

When we are born, we remember our ancient past in waters memory, living inside and around us as friends of the living.

Our memory is of the elements that surround us and modern technologies are the alien symbols discombobulating us.

When we stare at trillions of lights, our nervous system chooses 'freeze'. We don't fight or flight from lights because they are no threat to our perception. We, operators of eyeballs, are evolved as light perceptors. Our ancient ancestor spirits lived here before us in the dark. They are the beings of the dreamtime, a place unreachable by computer screen.

I was born in so-called 1991. So was the birthchild of two men, now called GoogleSearch. An engine of 'truth'. I am also a never-ending truth engine.

If you haven't heard any stories of the dreamtime you may believe when you sleep at night you are unconscious rather than travelling. Helen Keller, blind to the world but not to colour, deaf to sound but not to meaning, mute but complex in her thinking, wrote the test of all beliefs are their practical effects in real life.

If I win $2000 for writing a story, I have tested my belief in myself and moleskin to find truth and love in everything and everyone, because I am me and parts of everybody else. Just the rainbow. Rainbows are all colours of us and everything. We are only possible with the death and birthplace of water beings connecting.

In the hours we spend with our eyes closed we disallow new data from coming in. What we are doing is processing the days data into meaning.

There is no break between thoughts, between experiences of the living. We observe our participation in the spectrum of light, day and night, to co-construct realities that tell stories of what is happening, shaping meaning.

Much like there are no straight lines on Earth, the computer allows for hate crimes in cyberspace based on code that we are this or that, rather than the same. Coronavirus does not discriminate. Discrimination is a story about people who are not you. I am you, and you, inevitably become partly me.

We are a body, made of parts, in a body we are a part of here. Like our mother did before we flew in the atmosphere, we carry more than one spirit. We carry eachother and we carry diamonds in water which remembers our joys and fears.

Our mind tells us which we attach to what we believe is happening 'here'. What we believe is based on ideas whose origin is impossible to prove, less deny, given we are our beliefs' witness.

Recently I met Morpheus, ancient God of Dreaming. Barramundi totem, the first fish in the ocean.

Fire Dreaming with ancestors. My ancient Uncle was born twin with the computer, one full of water, one with unlimited space for coded 'memory'.

The time was believed to be 1946 by science and religious people.

Uncle remembers the Dreamtime before the Sun made her journey across the sky. Uncle came from the ocean as did we all an unknowable time ago.

Water dies to make air, air dies to make fire and so on into my Uncles ancient memory of how we all came to be here.

Better yet, my Uncle, your Uncle, our Uncle, the God of Dreaming, knows where we are 'going'.

First you have to heed to warning against machines from the Rainbow Serpent. Oodgeroo of the Noonuccal people passed to us the story of colour and the warnings of machine things thought to be utilities.

To know how to live, you must know how to die. Thus like the serpent, to enter the Dreaming, we must eat our own tale.

Here is one of mine I wrote in 62 minutes on the computer but which took samples of all of my minds' data to speak this story silently. Tappingly.

I am a sugar glider and I bring courage. It's nice to meet you, reader. Have you seen me? I am inside a blanket and I fly between the trees on Gumbaynggirr Country. This is not my place of Dreaming, but I am 'here'.

Everything is as if in a dream, especially the whispering of babies I carry.

A dream is not a competition of meaning. Nor are colours dispersed unevenly.

It's year 122,021 and I write poetry. I write into a moleskin before I write into a computer as I am a modern human being, with a hand-mind that dictates to storage capacity.

Please, believe in me and believe in others equally. My friend the Emu was recently abducted by a television. Pine gap put machines under my friends home in the sky. The Emu is all of our Dreaming. The dark pattern in the sky astrologers ignore, too busy looking for twinkling ancestors who have since disappeared.

The God of Dreaming is preparing to elighten you. I pass his message to the computer. Maybe I am Neo. Maybe I am just me. Maybe I am partly you. You tell me.

Our minds are free to dream if we choose to believe in our beliefs.