From Skepticism to Mechanism: One BCST Practitioner's Journey towards reality

It is easy to get disheartened when you are one person who, alone, deigns to explore your understanding of a vastly complex topic. Even more so when you do this by turning loose the fire-hose of the internet directly onto your unprotected face. 

Yet we must all have some sort of standards in this life, and this happens to be one of mine. If our thesis is good, we will successfully defend it until the last trickle. If we have grasped reality, we can expect to wake up each morning and not find it radically changed. Then again, if our thesis is bad but our obstinacy is strong we will also defend it to the last trickle. Not by withstanding the deluge, but coolly stepping to the side. Ultimately, the only person we are truly accountable to to inform us what group we may be in at any given point is ourselves.

The more times I experience a breakdown in my model of understanding, the more amenable I become to the process itself. If you've stood on a glacier while the entire thing transmutes from a frozen state to a liquid state, the more you can appreciate that you are made out of driftwood instead of, say... rocks. 

That is to say that the more times your knowledge is sunken, the more apparent it becomes what knowledge you have is unsinkable. So keep asking questions, soldier. Luckily, we are in the real world, not Alice in Wonderland. The rabbit hole is a hole in the ground: by rabbits, for rabbits, and is not a black hole from which there is no conceivable return.  

 

 ~~Why this blog?~~

Lately I wake up in the mornings and for a few solid moments I run wordlessly through everything I took as fact the night before. In these moments it seems possible that everything is as it seems, and the results of what I've found from my midnight stalkings in backrooms seeking the mechanism are in fact hollow, fleeting fantasies. Apparitions dispelled by the bright, bold rays of sunlight as the sun comes up above the horizon. "Has it all been a waste?"

But as my brain scans through, it begins to catch. The gears make traction and once again reality takes form. The material returns to me, both obvious and impossible; both tangible and un-graspable. Once again I am pushing, rushing up against the edge of my cognitive boundaries... trying to see my own eyes, trying to lick my own elbow.  

My journey over the past 10 years has been long and largely solitary, as most of our journeys are at the end of the day. I don't think I will ever be quite able to capture with words my own experience of exulansis. Yet, here I am writing this blog. Its time for mama bird to regurgitate her chewed-up worms into her empty nest. It is time to tell my story, to get this stuff out of my head and down somewhere, and to document my process in its continual unfoldment.