Another interesting phenomenon is that of assertion - an assertion of the state of the observed from within the confines of some implied system of the observer. Rather, what’s interesting is that it tempts the observed to enter the system in order to verify or nullify that claim. With so much apparent investment of the self in that system, it’s very difficult to prove the validity or existence of external frames of reference from which that system can be objectively analysed. Interestingly, the preferred strategy of the attacker is to simply ignore any evidence contrary to their attachment. Often the only evidence they will accept is more graceful communication within their current frame of reference, thereby making it all but impossible without investing time in theirs.
The success of these attacks are often reliant on, and in some sense propagate the inability of the observed to objectively analyse the nature of their source. The carriers are able to intercept potential attempts at this. Barrages of negative interpretations of overall state from some fixed context. Intrusive statements which distract from the task at hand. Essentially they force the observer to react in the moment, as opposed to taking considered action, which has the added effect of reinforcing the frame of reference of the carrier. It appears the carrier is heavily invested in this frame of reference.
How many possible futures am I cutting off with this decision? I’d like to think it’s somewhat considered. The alternative is to just build and build. I assume stable foundations are in part circumstance. Considering the roots, especially if the stem is snipped at or the buds cut before the chance to flower. I reach human, and over and over, never quite defeating the hand that holds my head under, too stubborn or locked in to reach backwards and ascend from a previous station. Growing older feels like being torn between the ever growing distance between the beginning and end. Continually reproducing into the jaws of something I can’t comprehend, that perhaps cannot comprehend itself, which will eventually force me, chew me up, digest me into some order which systematically validates itself. For all I know, it’s the child of a marriage of something both beautiful and terrible. I can find weaknesses, in the corners from which I perceive, which in this form I’m locked into and which colour what I observe. But I’m no different from a disease in that circumstance. Breaking down the parts of a whole I cannot free in my implicit iterative space and time, so that it better fuels my ascension, the inverse, the hole in me which when filled pushes my selected direction up and out into some tangible carrier.
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