autotelic, autistic, assonance-hole©.

Nearing Neptune

Ποσειδῶν in the original form, earth-shaker and child of Rhodes, the maker of floods and bringer of upheavals. I chuckle softly for the deft nature of the simile; finding the forms more like than unlike.

I am less amused by the nature of my own focus and the drivers of its intensity; some things I am far too devoted to pursuing and for reasons that are much too flighty to justify it.

Curiosity, I call it, but curiosity does not raise foundations, nor does it delve beneath them to find what it seeks. Curiosity does not insist or persist as I often do. Curiosity is a gentle thing, a casual question mark, not the sickle and sharpened point of a period that I seem to make it.

For a variety of reasons, the metaphor remains untainted. Initially, the symbol and its matching arose for nebulous things discovered or revealed that cast it in elemental form of water. Since, that has only been refined by the meeting and merging details that lap and overlap; rippling all the more and validating the initial identification of the meme form (not to mention related thoughts).

Ah, Neptune, classic and fierce manifestation of the change that occurs from deep within and then, rises. A casting of foam and freedom over seemingly solid things, shaping them with the slow, patient presence of persistence over time.

Yes, I see you more clearly now and for it, I smile. Yes, I shall write you real in ways that will both make sense and elude sense. I have not spent much time with you, ocean lord, but I find I am looking forward to it; the ripples I feel within signaling the timeliness of your arrival in my mind. I am chuckling for it and once more I ponder the question – do we create our being or does being create us? Ultimately, I am certain they are the same (conceptually I grasp the imponderable even if I do not yet do so otherwise).

It is time to turn to the shore, moving from the comfort of the riverbank to broader, more accepting waters. I consider again the underlying meanings of the message that arrived in the little bottle; washed up and waiting for notice. I consider the many paths of that moment of discovery and I think as well of how determinism is not yet deterministic in the face of the chaotic reality that is choice.

Laughing, I realize the internals are not known so this likely makes no sense to anyone reading. To the reader, a nod, a smile, and perhaps a comfort — you’re not as alone as you may think in this moment.

More soon, Neptune. From afar and with much admiration, I salute you.