Occam's Gestalt

I am living proof that Occam's Razor makes a lot of sense.  But it doesn't mean that there is not a place - and a joy - in complexity as well.

Complication is my modus operandi - and also a signal to noise ratio for how my particular pathologies are raging within the machine on a given day.

Still,  on the relative plane, complication is also a gift.

Complication is embedded in patterns - or maybe the other way around - but without question there is a relationship between Gestalt and Complication.

Complication - at times I have to watch myself:

1000 words instead of 100 to explain something at an emotional or professional level.  Drives others crazy;  eyes roll back in their heads or simply gray out to those fuzzy screens you'd use to get on antenna-ed TV's.

Trying to get ideas across. Often good ideas - but by the time they spider off in lexicological decision trees about how to proceed,  the listener is left with a spaghetti-ed mess of rhetoric that must be abandoned or simply not engaged with from the outset.

Gestalt: at other times,  I just watch 'my' Self:

Spiritually,  patterns within the complicated explanation light up; figure 8's on the spaghetti plate glowing neon bright or muted pastels  circling this way and back and eating their own tailes.*(tales|tails)

Complexity and Gestalt  were birthed from a corn husk last nite.  It flowered and opened like a womb,  and I was ushered into a darkly dimpled Nebraska evening.

Below:  the earth;  verdant,  rich and wet

Above: somebody stringing Christmas lights in figure 8's *exactly* 17 feet above the tallest corn stalk.  On the lights, a race of sort - imps and devas and faeries or god-knows-whats chasing each other towards infinity,  and me,  suddenly on the bench,  begging to join the race.

Be careful what you ask for.

The want, borne from the need,  was fulfilled.  I was in the race,  baton in hand, and the other racers dissolved into me.  ONE,  racing till my heart synced with the light's on-and-offs and the speed dissolved into no-speed and the distance dissolved into no-distance,  and I raced,  one foot *just dragging* in the relative,  with the rest of me forcing myself into

Infinity:

Which planted itself into new stalks,  causal wires criss-crossing into impossible patterns below ground:

Complexity:

Which I was left on waking with trying to decipher, or simply live.

Namaste.