The Widening Gyre

[Argentrose]

So I tried to figure out what the grand narrative was last night. Was it the story of Anoch, Sabrina, Orders and Brotherhoods–saints and demons? That’s an easy picture to paint, an easy fiction to believe. It’s the trappings of a thing, but a good creator knows that behind every story, there’s something greater than the fictions we create. Maybe the characters represent something, or the narrative is really alluding to something else. Maybe it’s just meant to make us question where we are and where we’re going. But that narrative has become convoluted to the point of nonsense. You can believe just about anything at this point, and you’re right/wrong. But what point does that serve? What’s the point of this creation, then, if there’s nothing more to be gained from it than a shrug–a Socratic admission that we are wise because we now know that we know nothing?

When I couldn’t get anywhere with that, I decided to look back on the things that made me care about this ARG. Was it the narrative that mattered? The characters? The creators? I’ll be the first to admit that I came in at the end of one story and the beginning of another–which is still the end of the second stage of the Experiences. So, how could I be close to anything in this story save for the people who were experiencing it–had been experiencing it? There wasn’t a part written for me, yet, but they each had a story of their own–a truth to tell. I came to the conclusion that I care about the people of this community and their experiences. There’s something of you in this ARG that makes me stay–something worth caring about.

But if I can say that I care about this community, why discount @a’s thoughts and feelings and admissions. You can’t read what @a posted yesterday and then deleted without ‘wanting’ to feel something for them.

And then I was thinking about how, when I was a kid, I loved to read stories–about how those people were, at times, just as real to me as the people I interacted with on a day-to-day basis. The stories of Samson and Delilah, David and Goliath–they were just as real to me at the age of six, those people and their lives, as my own, at home with my Mom and Dad. I mean, sure, they happened in the Bible, but they were still people–written words and all. And yes, I’ve grown up since then; I’ve parsed fiction from reality, non-fiction from fantasy, but the feelings I have for those characters still remain, real or not.

I struggled for a bit yesterday–trying to decide why I cared about @lilmsfancpants but not the plight of @a. Why I was ready to call the cops to defend Lia’s safety, but A’s own story elicited little more from me than distrust and a desire to empathize in spite of my doubts.

It sent me down a spiral of wondering what makes reality…reality.

I searched the term “reality” here and I read through little snippets on the forums to see if anyone else had been struggling with the idea–if the philosophical debate had raged on in some form, but after only three pages, I wasn’t finding what I was looking for; so, …it’s been a while since the subject came up. And knowing you guys, …you probably all ready talked that debate to death–likely with as little in the way of coming to a consensus as many of the other debates here.

I didn’t come to an conclusion about my own feelings with regard to Lia and A, other than to decide that the two different emotions were hypocritical in some way and that despite my insistence that I’d seen and heard from the community about her (even watching her own videos,)–that this somehow made her more “real” than an A in a Slack chat, after being told A could be anyone–was, in fact, multiple people, and therefore whatever they said was suspect. Still a hypocrite, either way. If I can feel so much for one person I’ve never met and known, then that same blanket statement should hold true for all the others.

I know, philosophically, that I’ve made an error in judgement there. I can offer explanations as to why one instance is different from another, but for the moment, let’s leave it with the simple caveat that I chose to see myself as being hypocritical. It’s important from the step.

I then began to question that if my judgement could be so compromised with regard to one instance, why couldn’t it be compromised with every other instance of choice I had made up until this point. The discussion about DLB had ensued, and I wanted to believe–had, in fact, postulated to @blondie in private on Slack, that after listening to @creepsociety ‘s podcast, I felt that DLB was being trapped in all of this–that perhaps the only reason he’d stayed was to try and get his old friend, Clint, to leave it behind. And then there was that debate–the people in Slack (this community) leaping to the exact opposite conclusion.

I’ve been struggling all this week to try and understand the narrative–I know I said that all ready. But part of my idea is that all of this–all of these things we’re seeing right now, are nothing more than a means of destroying everything we’ve thought and believed up until this point. Sow doubt; make everyone distrust their own truth–this makes them easier to manipulate when the time comes to begin again. So I see this, and I have this entrenched rebellious shoulder-tensing moment; I don’t want to start doubting what I believe. But if I care about this community–if I truly believe that each viewpoint is important to the whole, I have to doubt. I have to question.

And, …once again, this gets me nowhere. What’s the point of painting DLB as the mastermind of fuckery? Why is Clint Sears never mentioned? Why, whenever I ask about Lia is everyone silent, but then when @cerril brings it up, suddenly A starts asking questions of us? Why am I starting to doubt everything when I was just congratulating myself the other day on figuring out that all of this was just a giant mind fuck to make me do exactly that?

Then I started thinking about those questions that were asked: how does this benefit BoS, OSDM, us? I was looking for the broader narrative; so, I started trying to figure that out. And then I found myself in that same position of starting to divide the community. AGAIN. I’d been adamant earlier in the week that division within the community was bad–that by dividing ourselves, we stopped asking questions, looking for truths, and we entrenched ourselves in our fondly held beliefs. That working together was better than struggling alone.

That was the point when I decided that I’d had enough crazy-brain for one night. I wasn’t getting anywhere. And also, …if I tried to hold on to everything up above, there was nowhere else to go. Division. Doubt. Manipulation. I couldn’t see the forest for the trees; I didn’t even know if those WERE trees or giant buildings in some megatropolis instead.

I was searching for answers from the prophets of old, and they had fallen silent for now. So it was time to let things rest.

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