Ape, I Ron

Last night, with the life and thoughts of Anaximander on my mind, I dreamed a dream, a vivid one ... where she was the ax and I the tree, cut down to dry and watch burn, sacrificed to keep her warm. I too was alive in the fire, this fire that now deforms me day to day, to ash and smoke, soon to disappear from the corporeal, reabsorbed and recycled into the ether. And she the ax, fire was made at her birth and becoming, made intense to shape and form her from her grounded and earthen core. A rib not from Adam, nor man, but from Alma Matter, the earth mother. She steel, maid of the Earth's core and outer carbon element, an alloy of iron. All that ascendant, a byproduct of Apeiron. And I now the Ape, named Ron, that formed made a man.
The remnants of my kind, mixed with hers, given the conductivity made electric, life as fuel to the friction which ground her down to quick cutting sharpness, with which I was felled and grounded, back to earth, to be reshaped, cut limb by limb and cast as fuel for future fires and forges, or ground to pulp, glued, tattooed and screwed to create walls and cheap furniture, soon to Fall as that felled; creating comfort in complexity, away from the detrimental elements, the crudely elemental. A separation. A reprieve.
I leave, as those long fallen.
My last logs tossed on the fire,
as Winter winds down,
melting the frost within her
upon my burning demise
into eternal springs of living waters.

All that remains of the tree of me is gone, in heat and smoke, as I awake from the dream, and see that I am now human - eternal forms of life and living. Ape-I-Ron, and Ron-I-Ape.

"Everything is generated from apeiron and then it is destroyed by going back to apeiron, according to necessity." We are all electric at our cores, and burn from within like candles from our pineal wicks. We all spring from fires of heat and light, from fires electromagnetic, which filtered and refined, fuel our neural activities and thus forward and interpret the conflicts and connections of our days, lit by a sun in conflict, ever exploding but never truly escaping the crush while burning a-fury, and in its eventual expanded red death, it still lives and breathes in an ever slower glower of stasis and energy more easily held and digested. Like the faint glow of heart warming infrared, as that felt from a child's uplifted cheek and doe whetted eyes, risible and rising, seeking in the gentle subterfuge of all that adorable and cute, steeling hearts to please parents and peers and so to win their love and acceptance, only to outgrow them when that is given over-abundantly, to branch out on their own, in overflowing measure of approval and freedom, their orbits now set to a velocity growing outward and toward a trajectory of forgetting, seeking release of the bonds, released enough to escape the gravity of their parent's grave, and the tragedies and splendors of the lives from which they sprung. The child reborn as an adult, to burn in other spheres, each heart and hearth lit anew being an homage to that of eternal starlight and expanding spectra of stellar bodies, screaming and burning in accelerated agony and expanded joy, away from each other, as is necessary and true to time and the forces within ... a fire to die alone, forgotten, and then to the unknown, each trapped in our own unknowable solitude and separation. A darkness that lurks at the edge of your existence, not unfathomable, only avoided, like a late knocking on your door you dare not answer, a visitor you do not know, and dare not entertain ... but that inescapable - We are tied to one another in all that created and experienced together, a spiraling of duality and contradiction which disappears into paradox, in an ever ongoing outward trail and spiral of time that becomes erased at the edges like con-trails fade to vapor, as the lead leaves the pencil of me ... a pencil formed from that tree. We are all dredged, divided, formed together, and then dragged across the page to tell the tales of time from perspectives unique and relative. In our perception incomplete are the lies measured by that not perceived, possibly by true ignorance, or that literally, purposefully ignored, but likely more of ineptitude and incapacity to realize, relate, connect ... to cognate. A dearth of neural connectivity necessary to know what otherwise cannot be known - the luck of the draw, the draw of luck. The curiosity which killed the cat One2Many times, but which made the monkey stronger, like the wind trains the tree. Yes, I'm some-wise sappy ... and happy to simply BE, a plot on the map, a blot on the page of the possible persistence of eternal recurrence. Life, it is said, is eternal, and I believe that in order to truly have eternal life - as it literally means, that we must incarnate again at each passing, to another life, another experience, and if time is eternal too, we, you and I and everyone alive have all lived enough to know another's life, or at least to know compassion. When you see god within you, god is found all around you. Among his deeply thoughtful and oft tortured works, Nietzsche famously decreed that "God is Dead", (or infamously declared such by some's reckoning, which reckoning is by my account a misunderstanding resulting from a shallow investigation of his claim, and that investigation made shallow by offense). I believe, big picture, that he claimed such not knowing that he was speaking his own demise by his devaluation of all that seen and experienced, he let the disappointments of his life and loves show him a world without hope, without meaning, and sought, to his own demise, solitude, as an inherently social creature made for the camaraderie of the group, increasingly isolated and alone. I think he would have been a hard man to live with - so stern, and so serious, so passionate and intense. He eventually went mad, diagnosed as Bipolar at the age of 45, and thereafter he had a few strokes that left him partially paralyzed, after contracting pneumonia, he died, August 1890, just one year after his mental diagnosis.

The science of his situation would inform that the ape is decidedly a group animal, and mentally ill-equipped to be a solitary creature. And should an emissary of the apeiron appear to his visage, call it God or the Devil, and speak with the contentions and contentments of his Zarathustra, that which escaped his character's ken, possible in such communion seek to resurrect him in a perpetual state of his inescapable self, steeped in the life conditions that formed him, and a deeper understanding causing a reappraisal of such. I would hope and think that he, consigned to madness and insanity in his last days would call that messenger an Angel, a God, and not a devil, for in knowing this thoughtful and tortured man we better know the inescapable torment and pain that is the fount of our joys, and the motivation for our own struggle. The yin to the yang. Without the loss there is no victory ... all that rots and ruins ... and this IS the universe from which we sprang, "ending" some say in heat death ... and it is our loss to call it loss, or only see such amid the motions and thrills of life. or plot beyond our space in calculations of separations not meant for human minds ... for the more we think the more we make ourselves the hypocrites of our own language which is formed in contradiction.

Life, is best celebrated, knowing that out there in the dark lurk lions, and in your heart, there too ... and in your quest for peace, your realization of God, the Lion will lay down with the lamb. Which I think is a metaphor for finding peace, eternal peace, inside you, from where you can experience the necessary duality called life - Anaximander saw it, opposition that is eternal, flowing, and creative and destructive - Apeiron generated the opposites (hot–cold, wet–dry, etc.) which acted on the creation of the universe, and of life itself, and he named it Apeiron...