Difference decays two-dimensionally, in āLā-Systems throughout the āobservableā universe thus weaving the n-dimensional samsaric mesh. Pure difference decays unidimensionally because there is nothing outside. It is an addressable space without the space. Time without kinesis. Like undifferentiated cognition it is a regularity without judgements linear, quadratic, or cubic. The sum is the unquantifiable, unqualifiable paragon of knowledge - the absolute is relative only unto itself.
That which is called randomness is a measure entropy relative to order perceived by the senses, but pure difference cannot be perceived by difference and perception is itself a difference relative to states of apperception.
Difference is a system of inequalities promulgated forth from the illusion of the first inequality onwards. If the first judgement which ostensibly copied the āThouā into āItā and āIā ever really took place, it would remain eminently traceable through history. However, origin myths are just that - myths; masks of initiation into the timeless. My shadow has yet to break free, though it may dream of such freedom. āFirstā anything is already a dream, a linguistic artifact at best and residual imagery at worst, because in pure difference everything is the zeroth instance of itself, standing at a distance of zero from everything else.
All distinctions are relative and thus temporary, time ceases to be in singularity and although there is a unitary repetition, the unit is fathomless. Choice is no longer a paradox but a reflection, the pacific cannot but reflect itself on the sky above.
The only other place where time ceases to be is a myth, ensuring the timelessness of stories told, retold, and untold. A myth is a story of stories, a map of the narrative that is being. Without it, any sequence of events is an unordered jumble of discrete happenings. It isnāt a stretch therefore, to say that creation of the penultimate is the ultimate myth.
Pure difference can no more be discussed than an āoutlier representationā, the nethermost layer of difference beyond which difference ceases and what remains is an eternal repetition - whether or sight, sound, or something else is almost immaterial - here, qualia as a function of difference has collapsed.
The stoic indifference is a behavioural tenet aiming at the attainment of this absolute state, but matter can no more achieve a wholly indifferent state than pigs can fly. Approximations and improvisations shall have to suffice. What is certain that difference paints a picture whereby, not only knowledge becomes possible, but action can be directed - if only along a two-dimensional vector.
This then, forms the basis of all history, a vector along which can be traced a singular motion to-and-fro, creating a clear bicamerality of mind, which tends to a primordial either/or rendering the absolute an infinite windshield forever cracking in one relative direction and an equally infinite suit perpetually being stitched in another. Notice how both processes occur via L-systems, no wonder even evil has to work within its hierarchies.
Choice then becomes a matter of penultimate decision, like a child that just wanders into a hall of mirrors, once she selects a particular mirror to gaze into, there is about as much freedom for her being as her reflection, but there is freedom to choose precisely which mirror to gaze into.
Not only is thus it possible to know the āmind of godā, but it is possible to ascertain his will in all dimensions for the absolute isnāt only a singularity but also a plurality extending throughout. What is rather difficult is to follow (once one has strayed) or stray (once one has followed) from this knowledge for the āuniverseā is as much a monkās habit as it is a junkieās addiction.
The question arises, why in the world would pure difference decide (from Latin decidere, āto cut offā) to splinter into difference, or conversely, have itself up in stitches? Here, it is easiest to psychoanalyze Abraham - but in human terms he only wanted to ascertain the depths of violence within him and in doing so, set a benchmark for others. As for the deeper question as to why he wanted to ascertain the depths of violence in him, let us leave it at Lacan who informed us that āa man is styleā. Style, attitude, mood, these things are closer to any creation myth than those that exist in the sanctuary of languages, shielded from the scrutiny of mind which only finds itself reflected in rootless network of language.
Upon the dawning of knowledge, the calling of the challenge before us is rendered clear. No beginning arrives without the absolute certainty of end. This knowledge of the end is in itself sufficient for translating it into action. Once the existence of the zeroth zero becomes known, it is but a matter of following the breadcrumbs to arrive at it. The question is to whom is the knowledge made apparent, why only a Moses or a Buddha is enlightened to the truth whilst the teeming millions seek but never find.
Existence seems to be a shipwreck on the coast of a uninhabited island where an ephemeral, rotting cargo is survived only by an eternal manifest not aboard. Any sole survivor must not only build a rescue craft, survive the elements and the long journey back to the offices of the shipping corporation, but also destroy the manifest so no ship sails again. This is a bit of a tall order for the masses who lack not only survival skills but also the yearning necessary, most just settle on the island and call it a night.
Before the reader sets off on finding, or worse, building for himself an ark like Noahās it is pertinent to state that these metaphors, however strong, should not be interpreted literally. The cargo, for example, isnāt just the body but the entire mind-body complex travelling around the sun thus denouncing any mind-body dualism but rather asserting another dualism which has is an intermediate representation along the lines of matter/antimatter. But as an intermediate representation of intermediate representations (metaphysical dualism), none of this fits piece-for-piece (all metaphysics is essentially at best a claim to the ideal, always incomplete), so the cargo becomes essentially the observable universe, generalising further the cargo takes on other dualistic forms. Of course, the map is not the territory, but the map and the territory arenāt their (shared) contexts either. The idea is to interpret the trinity as a duality and arrive at unity, so the context and content of consciousness on the one hand, and consciousness itself as a separate entity. The observer and the observable are forever incomplete without the holy ghost of all that cannot be observed. Until there are shades of grey, there can be no black and white. Already we are undifferentiating.
The observer is manifest and (physical) death but a tutorial for what needs to be done, but āVÄ«ta brevis, ars longa, occÄsiÅ praeceps, experÄ«mentum perÄ«culÅsum, iÅ«dicium difficile.ā. So the reader is hereby forwarned, many have tried to follow the way back but almost none have successfully reached the destination - the island offers many a hedonistic treadmills to keep one occupied and many a crepescular gnats to make merry with. The journey to yourself is perilous to say the least, it is long, arduous, and filled with terrors unspeakable - thereās a fine line between courage and stupidity and asking āhow different is difference?ā is crossing it unambiguously. The road to the kingdom of kingdoms goes through every kingdom, and a job for stomachs and constitutions thus determined.
If then, like Dante, one is prepared to āabandon all hopeā, one may begin and end in earnestness and both are a matter of casual urgency. I woke up, dozed my monkey, woke my dog up, and commenced. Never once bothering to prepare or think about how I stole the devilās curtains the previous night or how he might be chasing me to recover them. I begin by dying to all else before I take the first step, not simply divorcing but actually murdering the beloved deserted and thinking only about the beloved sought - moving in a serial monogamy of loveās thoroughness. Not merely amor fati, but forever an absolute claim on the very essence of difference - death - beginning and ending in an amor mortis. Always beginning, and always with the end in mind.