A Collective Memory

There is a collective memory on this planet forgotten somewhere in the archaic recesses of our story.

An amnesia birthed as we stumbled out of the trees and into the African savannahs.

Somewhere before the domestication of plants, the infancy of language, and the designation and deification of idols.

It is a resonance deeper than any culture, religious doctrine, social convention, or petty and transient value structure we have sought to peg to experience since the birth of ‘civilisation’.

It’s the memory of nature. Of cycles of being.

The understanding that every life form is inextricably connected to the same cosmic rhythm.

An awareness we lost before the marketplace, before army and enterprise.

Before the institutions and tax systems.

Before we were told who to worship, respect, and procreate with.

It is an echo of a deeper connection to the mystery of existence. To the stars, the feminine principle, and the ebbing monumentality of the life journey.

Yet somewhere in our story, we muffled this memory with verbosity, grandiosity, and our collectively vacuous self-importance.

The shit-talking of a million arrogant empires, corporations, and banking cartels.

We have forgotten that we are tethered to the same laws of causation. The same thread, weaving infinitely through time-space.

In our amnesia, we have forgotten our unity. That we are each fractal moments in a lattice of such startling magnitude that our actions cannot possibly manifest in a vacuum.

The amnesia has startled tyrants and the destitute in their final moments.

The awareness, as the crack between worlds widens and the foggy sleep of life weakens, that everything is indivisible. That power, desire, and memory were only ever phantoms of the same great charade.

Flickers against this relentless dance.

We have forgotten the majesty of life.

The weight of biological and psychic memory on this planet.

The subtle, sonic reverberations of an infinity of loves, lives, and dreams that have passed through here.