Journal: 114.01.01

"Only through many hardships
Is a man stripped to his very foundations
And in such a state
Devoid of distractions
Is his soul free to soar
And in this
He is closest to God"
- The Scriptures, Book of Missions 42:5

We are in the River, and the River is in us.

Kigurosaka.

"The Zone"

Flow.

Again and again, the same concept appears in human thinking. Perfect form, perfect function, perfect action. A condition in which the solution to an obstacle is so obvious that choice ceases to exist- there is only perfect action. There's even a scientific term for it: Hyperconsciousness.

The fact that the science behind it is embraced by only a handful of less reputable academics doesn't deter me. Academia is a notorious home to back-stabbing and character assassination. The idea is what captivates me. For a human brain to transcend conscious decision-making and in so doing approach a state of perfect activity. It's a romantic thought, and one with infinite philosophical fascination.

But perfection. That's the flaw in the gem, of course. I embrace imperfection as the rich source of opportunity that it is. I reject utopia as the poisonous stasis of the soul. Either is an extreme, and extremes are detrimental. Extremes of environment, of effort, of morality and philosophy... there's a reason that the word "Extremist" is used with a snarl of contempt. And this Hyperconscious state would be an extreme of concentration. The true opposite of a state of sleep or catatonia, where ordinary alertness is merely the healthy middle ground where people must live their lives or go insane.

So I wonder. If I ever did find a way of rendering myself Hyperconscious. If I found myself on the banks of the River, needing only to take one step in order to immerse myself and to flow with it... Would I? 

Can one justify a path of carefully chosen equilibrium? Can an extreme be justly condemned without first experiencing it? I might, after all, be wrong. Hyperconsciousness may not be the extreme - it may be the Fulcrum across which the extremes are balanced.

What if I am wrong? About the Utopian toxin, or about the virtue of moderated chaos? Might I not be justifying a cage of mediocrity, or championing the broken window fallacy? 

You can't know, until you've looked at the problem from all angles.

Unless I'm wrong about that, too.

Maybe you just... get the joke one day.

Happy New Year, journal.

Save. End.