When you’re going to the edge, whichever edge, the edge of reason and sanity, or of weightshift and balance… what defines the moment is the quality of attention. You can afford no lapse in concentration, no hubris to lure you beyond the base of support.
To stay sane, to keep balance as you flirt with madness and falling… this is how poets live, but it’s how we all realize the moment.
Why do you think we return to these places, over and over?
Where do you think the mystery and paradox of creativity is born? All life is an improvisation, but we’re asleep to that fact 99% of the time – making it feel like anything but. We live for the other 1% – when we realize, oh shit, I have no idea what’s coming next. Of course, we never knew what was coming next, we all just fall for the statistical anomaly of a seemingly persisting state of things. Pattern recognition is the boon of humanity, and the curse.
So it’s up to us as a society to find the edges, to constantly generate pattern interruption.