I The Chimera, T The Tachyon, and We The Web

My kin told me a long time ago in my youth, “The earth remembers what” others “forget.”

“Others? Of whom do you speak?” I asked

”You’ll see” said affirmatively my kin.

I am born of branches, sprouted from a sprawling network of roots from a distant Super-Earth, relatives across the galaxy from different Earth analogs and water worlds.

I believe these are the names you creatures called humans bear as descriptions for my home, as well as the homes of many of my kin.

I am aware that some of you, a number of you in fact, have made the attempts, and continue to ensue, in understanding the vastly relative indicators of the dimensionality of time.

Let me assure you that spectroscopically, I have blueshifted to this dedicated reserve of wildlife. Though I must ask how come the entire planet is not this way?

In its formation and development, did additional organisms from your communities and realms deem their wisdom of what is possible as superior, twisting the oceans and jungles to their notions?

Perhaps my bones forged from many collections of dense layers, protected by fur, feathers, and fungal features of astronomically extremophilic variations; seen visibly in variety depending on my bipedal or multi-pedal status, in flight; dig, swim, or tachyonic ability to wish myself to certain places and times; guaranteed arrival to my destination; in experiencing virtually everything are perhaps deemed by some as nothing.

Like this Earth, this beautiful natural ecosystem corrupted by a synthetic delusion coined as the world; I am remembered by some, especially those who are willing to perceive me, to interact with me, to ask curiously and engage with me. If only whimsy and fascination carry value here across all times in life as they do in my worlds. Naïveté is why they, me, and this nearly spherical being of green, blue, brown, and many more hues are no strangers to ‘forgetfulness,’ if it is truly so beyond mere incidence.

I remember crossing paths with a wonderful saying meaningfully conveyed across a rather adventurous and considerate lot of Earthlings, some of whom held what appeared to be writing utensils, though oddly emitting a rather vaporous substance when placed at their mouths.

“There are some things that you can’t unlearn.”

In my paradox of flesh and coat-embodiment of a combination of creatures, along with my myriad of multidimensional abilities of traversing hyperspace through merely a thought, I in deep yearning and inspiration so strongly wanted to lift the illusion of invisibility of which I set on myself, wanting to imagine the plausibly inevitable scenarios of revealing and informing, an excitingly overwhelming disclosure.

Though I can’t imagine that every sapient bipedal was ‘taught’ to treat changelings rife with overlapping lineages such as myself with reverence and honor, let alone respect.

Every life is sacred, every organism, every movement, every observation and creation purposeful. Why is purpose a search here, an expectation to arrive once certain false rituals are ‘complete?’

Why does kinship and the enlivening connections of co-existential symbiosis appear to be extantly shadowed in this terrestrial planet?

Isolationism; deceptive, destructive, disempowering, driven by despair; a quietly sub-empirical structure manufactured by and out of desperation.

I do not believe in solitary confinement, or any mandating of any unwilling senses of separation. For solitude is an entirely distinct experience, connection with you.

For rampant disregard of fellow life, we gather those who have committed such acts to co-habit remote parts of even more remote portions virtually undetected by many cosmic sensors, to explore and navigate terrains with hallucinogenic properties, that guide them in their consciousnesses back to when the honor of co-existence became the game of chasing, pursuing, and neutralizing.

Even when asked to leave, conditioned degraders enacting or having enacted the despicable are not isolated, but rather enlisted to face the trauma of intrusive influence, of corruptive reprehensibility.

I do admire and respect that some of the more resilient and unwavering, yet nonetheless compassionate and considerate of you lot, in accounting for what is yours, denounce what is not, especially those who have frequently crossed paths with your younger selves, who you may have deemed unwilling to change, without the urge to punish or punitively vindicate.

There is a questioning of the scaffolded urge, of exhibition, excavation, and expedition; and not needing to centralize those to live meaningfully, especially in relation to you.

I am especially curious of the increasingly notorious acronym discussed across a number of humans, STS. The practice of inquiring the methodologically set & stone, tried & ‘true.’ Even in the remarkable ability to critically assess and reflect, there is a question of the powerful possibility and ambiguity of the categorically amorphous, rather than an unquestioned hyper-jargon-laced ‘acceptance’ of the grammatically and theoretically ‘set.’

If inklings of curiosity are innocent, then what about inclinations to make intellect a commodity of pursuit rather than an expression of curiosity? Perhaps inquiry and investigation are separate, the former neither in fragile insistence of experimental malpractice, nor in general rejection of what is possible, including in physically agnostic and specially relative avenues that do not need verbal principles for any conceptual reinforcement.

There are some concepts and practices here we do not have anywhere that I lived and continue to visit, inhabit, or frequent. Orthodoxy is incomprehensible to me, as it would be to my kin. Imperatives are a crime to my people, making agency a suggestion as cogency is suggested.

I can imagine why people here would rather escape than efface. But, my visit here is not about escape, but inquiry. Curiosity, insight, the brilliance of remembrance beyond, not past, the safety nets of nostalgia,

So in sharing several instances in light of countless lessons and experiences, endless notions, I ask that you remember. To clarify, not memorize. Iterate and repeat if you must. Remembering is recollecting, it is sentimental and soulful, not of brute cognizance replaying a violent loop of near-‘perfect’ recall. Our existences are not tours, but journeys. And as you’ve noticed, I’ve finally revealed the bridge between us.

Our aliveness has substance, is substantial, because of how much is possible within us, between us, locally to us, and so far beyond us that we can’t possibly help but ask. So Earthling, or Earthlings, to who(m) I am speaking, will you remember?

If the Earth can remember you, then why can’t you? Remember what this means, what all of it means, to be, to exist, to flourish in celebrating the physical and unexplainably multiversal and hyper-dimensional, all of which nonetheless I hope fascinates thee as it doth with me. Physicalism is a trick, materialism is a trap, there is so much more within you, and beyond you. It does not begin and end with the illusion of this world, manufactured by conquerors and dictators. It doesn’t begin or end at all, only they do.

—————

“What the- hey!”

I gather my illusion of invisibility lowered. And prior to summoning my tachyonic components to bring me to a following time and place, came the following utterance from me:

“Oh shit”

—————

Seeing their friend’s startled demeanor, the fellow present earthlings ran over and pressed with great concern, “What happened?”

The earthling in question returned their baffled expression to where I just departed, only to see a trail of webs weaved by arachnid entities, peacefully crawling amongst their ornate world of consciousness.

The now speechlessly confused earthling could only voice a couple of following parchments of sound, “I- I- *inhale* I- couldn’t tell you.”

I smiled in relief and reassurance from a distant grove.

”No you couldn’t,” I agreed. “You couldn’t even believe who you saw… for now. I’ll be back though.

Till then.”