if i don’t start the blog at some point then i won’t start it at any point, and this point is as pointy as any.
ground zero
A few weeks ago I wrote about breath and mental illness. However, before I share it, I’d like to draw an analogy from math. I hope that it will help us understand something about positionality.
If you see a megastructure in front of you, and you want to determine how tall it is, anyone who’s graduated high school might remember that you can use a bit of trigonometry. First, you measure the length from you to it, second, you measure the angle from your vantage point on the ground to its top, and then finally you can multiply the first by the tangent of second.
If we think about this process, mathematically it works out with no issues as long as you’re not infinitely close to or far away from the structure. On the other hand, pragmatically we need to worry about the errors in our measurements. If we are very far away from the structure, then we can be really sure that our first measurement is correct, because microscopic changes to our distance cannot affect this macroscopic quantity. However, the opposite is the case for our second measurement—the tangent of a small angle is that angle—which means that we’ll have to measure a microscopic quantity which has a macroscopic impact on our ultimate result. The reverse happens when we are really close to the structure, at ground zero, except it’s even worse, because both measurements are microscopic with macroscopic impacts. You have to assess things from the middle.
And yet…
The question never really was “Just How Tall Is This Ominous Megastructure Exactly?”
All that matters is what we can do about it.
I think it’s very cute to stand back and assess the situation from very far away, figure out exactly how tall you need to be to overcome it, and come up with contrived solutions that will result in the Big Happy Ending.
But when you’re back at ground zero again and again, you start to realize that just out of reach may as well be infinity. Obviously, sometimes you need new strategies, because no strategy is permanent. However, I think the very difficult conceptual zone to exist in, is acting as if the situation is permanent so that you can make it impermanent. I’ve seen this called “blur,” and I think it’s sort of the opposite of hyperstition, in that it’s an unconscious belief which was true, but which makes itself untrue through its conscious belief.
With that being said, here are thoughts on breathing.
breathing while sad
When I’m happy, it’s very hollow and thin
like breathing while sad, it’s very thin and light, and the exhales are a lot stronger.
That’s how my happiness feels.
It’s true that I inhale, it’s true that I become happy sporadically, but it’s not like a natural thing for me.
It occurs just so I don’t die.
Breathing while being sad is like this.
The natural state is exhalation.
It’s true that there are breaths sporadically, but they only exist so that the lacuna can continue,
and they’re thin, and not ecstatic, and they’re always immediately followed by a sigh.
If we think about my breathing, and I complain about it, and I mention how I keep sighing, how I feel like I’m always exhausted, like there’s no more I can exhale.
And then you say: oh!
don’t worry!
you’ll breath in again!
This is true.
But the exhale is just an instance of the actual thing that I want to change, which is my sad emotion at the time, the underlying climate which produces the sighs, the exhaustion, the exhalation, and the very thin and lazy breaths.
In the midst of a thin breath,
you can say: oh!
but you’re breathing!
and your lungs are full!
so it’s illusory when you say afterwards that really your breath is thin,
But it is something I really feel in the moment, I’m just unable to express it,
because with each breath, I need it to not be thin,
and only afterwards, as I exhale, am I able to speak.
The same is true for my illness, the underlying climate which produces the character of happiness and sadness, like sadness as an underlying climate which produces the character of inhales and exhales.
When I’m happy, it’s not an expressable thought to say: this happiness is very thin.
If I was expressing that, that would already be an exhalation.
To say that, would be to already be sad.
This is a very difficult position to be in.
I don’t know how much longer I can last.
strategies
I hope that wasn’t too much a downer. I was quite sad when I wrote that, and I was pretty sad today when I decided to finally start the blog part of moth11. I’ll write more about hyperstitions, blur, and (cute)accelerationism when I’m able to metabolize more time into rotpolitics, but for now, I think the most concrete strategy is if a situation seems insurmountable, then maybe don’t try and gaslight yourself into believing that you can deal with it. Instead, accept it as fact and then try to creatively analyze it on both an intellectual and emotional level. Intellectually, it helps you understand the more fundamental situation which is the cause of this situation. Emotionally, it detaches you from your feelings—both when I wrote it the first time, and when I made this blog post, in either case I obviously feel an ounce better, because at least I did something and I can better empathize with myself.
Going forward I should sketch these out on paper because I’m sure there was something else I forgot to say. Oh well!
The last thing I’d like to share is kinda the polar opposite. I made this last spring.
I really need to go to sleep now!