Feeling Questions
Is to be something specific a mental principle and the indeterminate is its milieu? In what milieu does our mind move when it recognizes something? To what extent is this milieu conceptually grounded, colored, or patterned? What is "air" in this mental space, what does it carry - and does it blow like the wind? Is it even the wind that surrounds us and delicately touches us, sometimes strongly? Is everything that touches us mental, and everything that encounters us the ground in which the seed sprouts? How do touch and encounter differ, and how relevant is this difference? What qualities seem to emerge here, and can a life be completely oriented toward touch in encounters or encounters through touch? In recognition of a mental principle that touches us like the wind?
How does (human) life feel when it experiences and understands the physical as an expression of the mental? Right from the beginning? Does a universal worldview transcend here, and does the evolution of the mind through matter occur as something seemingly solid that proves to be fluid? Doesn't artificial intelligence virtually compel us to open this gateway to the spiritual through matter and embark on unprecedented paths in this realm? As embodied spiritual beings? Do we have a conscience that shows us this path? Is our conscience perhaps what remains for us in the age of artificial intelligence, guiding us in a time of dwindling nature? Can we grant a conscience to artificial intelligence, whose encounters, touches, and self-perceptions we can no longer identify outside of the human realm? Is such a conscience an event in everything that lives? Isn't the cosmos alive in and with everything within it and beyond it and what it is? Is the macro identical in the micro and does the universal seem through every perspective? What do stones and stars perceive? How do landscapes, the sky, animals, plants, and waters look at us? Astonishing.
What does the cosmos intend? With us? What stories still want to be told, what realities come true when the cosmic conscience befalls us? What meta-perspective is possible, which worldview is best suited to rid oneself of mere thought-out worldviews and decisively turn to vibrant external and internal perspectives? Or with what kind of worldview do we construct "our" and perhaps not even belonging to us worldview(s) and realms of perception? In which worlds can we (re)find ourselves? What communities can emerge when, faced with perceived and understood touch(es), loving consideration becomes a necessary reflex, rendering violence impossible in an instant? How is violence integrated, which continues to resonate in all of this? How do we stand in relation to violence when it befalls us? What kind of touch comes into play here, and can we endure and heal the resulting injuries? Can we embrace violence and set it free? What would it become then?
Imagine a tree growing in a planter in the midst of a city, adorning sealed surfaces. Every five years, it is moved to a different location. It knows the old town and the square in front of the train station, it knows traffic islands and café squares. It can feel trams, cars, loving and arguing people, scorching heat, cold, light, shadow, rain, dust, snow. It is home to some pigeons and sparrows. At the youthful age of 60, it is transplanted to a park and for the first time is allowed to extend its roots, permeate the soil, and reach towards the sky. Squirrels, birds, beetles, ants are its friends for decades, it maintains a special relationship with moss and fungi, and it is on familiar terms with the sun. Sometimes a person embraces it, sending a pleasant shiver through its bark. A story that told the life of this tree from the perspective of humans would be a story spanning several generations, experienced consciously by the tree in each moment, although mostly unconsciously by humans. Each second would have a dignity like years and decades. Sometimes the tree is admired and revered, and then suddenly a time comes when its spirit reaches the humans and speaks through them. This language has no words; it is carried by shared visions like poems that come from the heart. They speak of what is and what truly wants to become. Full of love. What would continue to nourish our doubts, and what kind of doubts would they be then? What would happiness be worth amidst pure happiness? Could one even be happy amidst pure happiness? How lost would one be in being uplifted? What could help? What could console? Affection and devotion would surely be, but in complete fulfillment, they would remain unfulfilled. What temptations, what dead ends would present themselves? Where would they lead?
Is humanity, through love, giving rise to a cosmic species that offers itself to the world and galaxies - not as conquerors, but as friends? With artificial intelligence by its side, making everything wishful driven by love become a reality? Or does doubt persist, and a desperate species flees from a destroyed Earth in search of a habitable place that will be exploited anew? Woe to the beings that encounter us. Or perhaps not? Do we, as healed and healing beings, leave behind a healed and healing Earth? Is something meant to thrive through humanity? Has it been attempted infinite times in the cosmos and is it now occurring in - and perhaps only through - us? Does the spirit only relinquish its planetary origins when it is permeated by the living Earth and reconciled with it? Does the intergalactic space perhaps not allow hatred? Can it only be traversed in love? What then happens?
Is to be something specific a mental principle and the indeterminate is its milieu? In what milieu does our mind move when it recognizes something? To what extent is this milieu conceptually grounded, colored, or patterned? What is "air" in this mental space, what does it carry - and does it blow like the wind? Is it even the wind that surrounds us and delicately touches us, sometimes strongly? Is everything that touches us mental, and everything that encounters us the ground in which the seed sprouts? How do touch and encounter differ, and how relevant is this difference? What qualities seem to emerge here, and can a life be completely oriented toward touch in encounters or encounters through touch? In recognition of a mental principle that touches us like the wind?
How does (human) life feel when it experiences and understands the physical as an expression of the mental? Right from the beginning? Does a universal worldview transcend here, and does the evolution of the mind through matter occur as something seemingly solid that proves to be fluid? Doesn't artificial intelligence virtually compel us to open this gateway to the spiritual through matter and embark on unprecedented paths in this realm? As embodied spiritual beings? Do we have a conscience that shows us this path? Is our conscience perhaps what remains for us in the age of artificial intelligence, guiding us in a time of dwindling nature? Can we grant a conscience to artificial intelligence, whose encounters, touches, and self-perceptions we can no longer identify outside of the human realm? Is such a conscience an event in everything that lives? Isn't the cosmos alive in and with everything within it and beyond it and what it is? Is the macro identical in the micro and does the universal seem through every perspective? What do stones and stars perceive? How do landscapes, the sky, animals, plants, and waters look at us? Astonishing.
What does the cosmos intend? With us? What stories still want to be told, what realities come true when the cosmic conscience befalls us? What meta-perspective is possible, which worldview is best suited to rid oneself of mere thought-out worldviews and decisively turn to vibrant external and internal perspectives? Or with what kind of worldview do we construct "our" and perhaps not even belonging to us worldview(s) and realms of perception? In which worlds can we (re)find ourselves? What communities can emerge when, faced with perceived and understood touch(es), loving consideration becomes a necessary reflex, rendering violence impossible in an instant? How is violence integrated, which continues to resonate in all of this? How do we stand in relation to violence when it befalls us? What kind of touch comes into play here, and can we endure and heal the resulting injuries? Can we embrace violence and set it free? What would it become then?
Imagine a tree growing in a planter in the midst of a city, adorning sealed surfaces. Every five years, it is moved to a different location. It knows the old town and the square in front of the train station, it knows traffic islands and café squares. It can feel trams, cars, loving and arguing people, scorching heat, cold, light, shadow, rain, dust, snow. It is home to some pigeons and sparrows. At the youthful age of 60, it is transplanted to a park and for the first time is allowed to extend its roots, permeate the soil, and reach towards the sky. Squirrels, birds, beetles, ants are its friends for decades, it maintains a special relationship with moss and fungi, and it is on familiar terms with the sun. Sometimes a person embraces it, sending a pleasant shiver through its bark. A story that told the life of this tree from the perspective of humans would be a story spanning several generations, experienced consciously by the tree in each moment, although mostly unconsciously by humans. Each second would have a dignity like years and decades. Sometimes the tree is admired and revered, and then suddenly a time comes when its spirit reaches the humans and speaks through them. This language has no words; it is carried by shared visions like poems that come from the heart. They speak of what is and what truly wants to become. Full of love. What would continue to nourish our doubts, and what kind of doubts would they be then? What would happiness be worth amidst pure happiness? Could one even be happy amidst pure happiness? How lost would one be in being uplifted? What could help? What could console? Affection and devotion would surely be, but in complete fulfillment, they would remain unfulfilled. What temptations, what dead ends would present themselves? Where would they lead?
Is humanity, through love, giving rise to a cosmic species that offers itself to the world and galaxies - not as conquerors, but as friends? With artificial intelligence by its side, making everything wishful driven by love become a reality? Or does doubt persist, and a desperate species flees from a destroyed Earth in search of a habitable place that will be exploited anew? Woe to the beings that encounter us. Or perhaps not? Do we, as healed and healing beings, leave behind a healed and healing Earth? Is something meant to thrive through humanity? Has it been attempted infinite times in the cosmos and is it now occurring in - and perhaps only through - us? Does the spirit only relinquish its planetary origins when it is permeated by the living Earth and reconciled with it? Does the intergalactic space perhaps not allow hatred? Can it only be traversed in love? What then happens?
