scaffolding

i’ve been taking a step back lately from some things that have been present recently in my life; but, still keep bumping up against those things. and this bumping has a kind of rhythm to it. there’s an echo and a reminder of past dance music here, of interrupted but continuing movement. grinding and grooving through flashes of light, glimpsing others moving but without staring, but no place for conversation or connection.

any sketch of my thoughts would probably sound pretty self-important to someone else, and may sound like i’m ranting. but my thoughts to myself aren’t a rant at or to anyone, except maybe myself. i’m trying to get some grasp on what’s going on. my hope is that my thinking through thoughts is useful in further developing a way for my working to work in the world.

so much of my thinking i normally would never reveal publicly or share. sharing seems like such a mistake. this kind of thinking, i compartmentalize and put into a note in my journal never to see the light of day again or be seen by another. sometimes i may revisit these thoughts, unpacking them to take a look with nostalgia, but always in the privacy of my own dark attic and away from others. even that retreat is a kind of circus that comes back to town frequently.

even though i may often revisit on my own, recapitulation of my past thinking with others is tiresome and painful; fully explaining my thinking is too. but, having others assume my thinking is less than it has been is also painful, as if what isn’t explained hasn’t happened. and yet i crave the touch of others really truly there with me through it all. and yet i can’t hardly stand to be touched for long as much as i long for it.

most of my thinking is done intuitively and in a constant stream; and, i seem to have more thoughts in a moment than most; no speaking, writing or art has been something i could do fast enough to follow my own thoughts. these thoughts are lives that have flashed before my eyes, living them in a dream real and full.

for others to imagine that even after moments i wouldn’t already have ideas, maybe even several fully formed; is to imagine that when told not to think of an elephant that I actually wouldn’t.

however, having one or several fully formed ideas does not mean I’ve made up my mind; although, it does mean i may have strong opinions. opinions which i will strongly hold; but which also may radically change, maybe even in mid-sentence.

explaining even one of several provisional ideas is likely to take longer than actually making the idea happen; but, making an idea happen means selecting one of many provisional possibilities. for some reason, having to fully explain a provisional idea, or moreover just one of several, feels a little like dying inside.

first, it will take forever. it will be difficult to communicate the full range of thinking that led to the idea. taking someone through the process doesn’t work because they generally wouldn’t have made the same leaps where i did even if they had been part of it originally. it will be nigh impossible to be clear that the idea is provisional, in spite of how fully formed it is. or, if it’s not fully formed, it will be nigh impossible to be clear that the gaps aren’t flaws and leaps aren’t falls. it will appear that i’ve either made up my mind or adopted a flawed notion, or both. by the time i’m done, i could have just done it. by the time i’m done, i’ll have thought of a several new ideas that seem much more interesting to me. and, thus, as i explain it, i’ll go on tangents that lose people, not being able to simplify the complexity enough to take them along with me on that ride through the candy factory; i’ll not be satisfied with the idea anymore, and the whole attempt to communicate will seem to have been not only a waste but just painful.

i’ve never met anyone, ever, to whom i could fully and satisfactorily communicate. communicating to others seems to constantly be a reminder of just how alone i have always felt. in some ways, it seems like i’ve been alone so long, but even when i was young i was already old this way.

i very quickly scaffold various ideas to whatever various levels of completeness i can; and sometimes that means holding contradictory ideas in various levels of completeness at the same time.

but, i also work iteratively, and each idea reflects and informs others. i may abandon fully formed ideas in order to develop new ones while still holding other ideas; abandoned ideas may be replaced with newly developed ones that are only very subtly different, maybe even only in a feeling about them; and, the process of forming and abandoning ideas informs every subsequent process and my thoughts and feelings about the past of them.

at some point, one idea out of several may prove to be good enough to implement; but that doesn’t mean i don’t have others, equally or even more fully formed; it doesn’t mean that i don’t have ideas which contradict the idea being implemented; but for some reason a particular idea meets the moment best, for some value of best, meets the design goals and constraints well enough to justify implementing.

what does this mean? there’s the crux of this crossroads between horizons, for meaning to the journey evades. it may be that i am really alone in this. or, maybe there are others. this may merely be the human condition i suffer, and somehow the miracle cure is to normalize. or, this is a rare form of something or other that i’ll suffer until i grow old enough to slow down, and hopefully old enough not to see that i became slow.

as for thinking in the world, it seems like i am in a loop of film forever repeating the rug being pulled out from under me. unlike the trick of falling down and missing the ground to fly, rather i fall and never seem to be able to stop tripping. thoughts never stop but under me the world keeps slipping.