You are a point in space, and the position of that point describes who you are and where you are. Look at this point as you live your life and it makes a curve. It starts when and where you were born and moves along roads and from town to town and around the world. As you learn it moves across, too, in some direction perpendicular to space. Here I am, at this point, and by looking at this point you see I am at my computer typing this. Yesterday when I was typing the point was almost in the same place, but it was shifted slightly because I wasn't quite the same person (and I was sitting in the kitchen).
Cut out the loops. Go somewhere, come back. Does it matter that your point has made this excursion? No, all that matters is the little change in who you are between when you left your house and when you came back. I have a cold. My curve spirals out, passes through hot flushes and waxy skin. I go to the pub to watch the football. My line follows me, and extends into the territory of headaches. In a couple of days, I'll feel normal again; I'll be sitting here again - and my line will have looped round, knotted itself off, and I can forget it. Everything is like this. If you want to remember something, don't cross your curve. And if that something has changed you as a person your curve won't loop. If something terrible happens, return to the place of your childhood and close the loop.
Yesterday I had my last lecture. The venue was moved and I ended up sitting only places from where I first sat nearly four years ago. I can feel the loop closing. As I do things for the last time I cross the places where I first did them and the knot gets tighter. I can feel the potential of the beginning and end of the loop getting closer and memories from along that loop keep coming back to me. In a few weeks, after my exams, the loop will close and the only way you'll be able to tell I've experienced it is the different Matt I am.
My curve is straight. From where I am now it doesn't look like my curve is heading anywhere near where I've been before. How could it? - the university loop is closed. It's exciting. It's the open road. It's the top of a hill and I can see all around me and ahead of me the land stretches out and it doesn't go down. I felt this before when I was finishing my Sixth form, back when my first major loop was closing, back when it didn't loop very far anyway. I said something that doesn't really have any meaning but it resonated then and then I forgot what it meant and now I'm feeling that resonance again. It's blue sky. It's a cool breeze. It's wishing for great times and not feeling nostagia but trepidation. It's looking around as if for the first time with open eyes and saying These Are My Hands, This Is My Life, and the world is bright and the air is crisp and you can feel creation, happening right there, for the first time in the longest time, in the centre of your head, and you shake your head and you realise as never before So this is where it all begins.
You are a point in space, and the position of that point describes who you are and where you are. Look at this point as you live your life and it makes a curve. It starts when and where you were born and moves along roads and from town to town and around the world. As you learn it moves across, too, in some direction perpendicular to space. Here I am, at this point, and by looking at this point you see I am at my computer typing this. Yesterday when I was typing the point was almost in the same place, but it was shifted slightly because I wasn't quite the same person (and I was sitting in the kitchen).
Cut out the loops. Go somewhere, come back. Does it matter that your point has made this excursion? No, all that matters is the little change in who you are between when you left your house and when you came back. I have a cold. My curve spirals out, passes through hot flushes and waxy skin. I go to the pub to watch the football. My line follows me, and extends into the territory of headaches. In a couple of days, I'll feel normal again; I'll be sitting here again - and my line will have looped round, knotted itself off, and I can forget it. Everything is like this. If you want to remember something, don't cross your curve. And if that something has changed you as a person your curve won't loop. If something terrible happens, return to the place of your childhood and close the loop.
Yesterday I had my last lecture. The venue was moved and I ended up sitting only places from where I first sat nearly four years ago. I can feel the loop closing. As I do things for the last time I cross the places where I first did them and the knot gets tighter. I can feel the potential of the beginning and end of the loop getting closer and memories from along that loop keep coming back to me. In a few weeks, after my exams, the loop will close and the only way you'll be able to tell I've experienced it is the different Matt I am.
My curve is straight. From where I am now it doesn't look like my curve is heading anywhere near where I've been before. How could it? - the university loop is closed. It's exciting. It's the open road. It's the top of a hill and I can see all around me and ahead of me the land stretches out and it doesn't go down. I felt this before when I was finishing my Sixth form, back when my first major loop was closing, back when it didn't loop very far anyway. I said something that doesn't really have any meaning but it resonated then and then I forgot what it meant and now I'm feeling that resonance again. It's blue sky. It's a cool breeze. It's wishing for great times and not feeling nostagia but trepidation. It's looking around as if for the first time with open eyes and saying These Are My Hands, This Is My Life, and the world is bright and the air is crisp and you can feel creation, happening right there, for the first time in the longest time, in the centre of your head, and you shake your head and you realise as never before So this is where it all begins.