Some time ago, I read a fictional story about someone who, through draining their own emotion, was able to project it to others. They, in turn, were able to refresh their own emotions by draining back a bit from one of those others - bit-by-bit positive emotions were generated. Looking back on it now, I wonder if the author was talking about relationships. I suspect so, but it may be that I'm simply borrowing the idea and reading convenient depth into it - this presumably happens a lot with art and lierature. Ideas are not meant to be respected - they achieve their greatest use when we shatter them and build new things, once they are with us long enough that we cease to think of them as gifts. Originality a delusion, the lone innovator a far worse one, every cell of the thinking population is part of an engine, part of the greater mind of civilisation stretching forward through the ages.
The winter pours over me like rain near the edge of a building. Reflected in every shard of ice, a younger self. A mark on the arm - are there spiders within? it feels like there is glass inside, a wound reluctant to heal. An eye of fish - an inspiration - perhaps to end by some other hand is the worst of all, that when ready we should control.. but we question this as more partisian logic - when and where to control is the most fundamental of choices. Shall I excise those eight limbs? Probe at a slowly closing wound? It may be a delusion. I may be telling myself things that will keep this open forever without cause, or perhaps I am selling tickets to myself, a failed blood-brain barrier. The questions never cease to come, and without feedback, I feel increasingly lost. Left, right, straight, this endless plain offers few clues, and I dread the day that I see my own footprints ahead of me. Perhaps I shall settle there, and test the ground for long-term nourishment. I always said that this far north man cannot live alone. The time to test that may be at hand.
One wonder - in the age of science, is there much room for philosophy? If we choose materialism, relativism, and science to understand reality, do we give up on supports for the constructed, the moral and ethics? We have divorced outself from many questions - no more moral universe - any grand narrative we have is cut off from illusory ties into the nature of things. Whether we have lost an umbilical cord or a lifeline remains to be seen. Truth may demolish many things.