“I love this example of a strange loop by Belgian surrealist artist, Rene Magritte.
Here’s how Wikipedia describes Magritte’s style: “He became well known for creating a number of witty and thought-provoking images. Often depicting ordinary objects in an unusual context, his work is known for challenging observers’ preconditioned perceptions of reality. Magritte’s constant play with reality and illusion has been attributed to the early death of his mother.”
René Magritte described his paintings as “visible images which conceal nothing; they evoke mystery and, indeed, when one sees one of my pictures, one asks oneself this simple question, ‘What does that mean?’. It does not mean anything, because mystery means nothing either, it is unknowable.”
Just like nonduality. God is a strange loop. You try to know yourself, but you cannot.”
Crystal clear glass panes gazing back at her with empty eyes, the concrete jungle bustles by whilst her lonesome spirit dies.
Reaching out for the reflective barrier in front of her, a certain numbness travels through her fingertips and makes its way to her soul; dimming the tolerance for mindless city chatter in a flourescent flickering that never sleeps.
Discontent reverberated through her cells, well-versed with the heedless world. Restlessness of the hive and way of life shadowed now, behind her. Cotton-candy clouds underneath, the plane wings splitting through a canopy of white to unveil itself as the thick atmosphere dissipates. Lowering and lowering, the plane wings glide through foreign tree tops, a green she had not yet been blessed to witness.
Stepping into the rustic air, the concrete on which her heels tap reminds her of the past heavier than the luggage she carries on her arm.
From one transport vehicle to the next, she makes her way to the hills. Entranced by the viridescent shimmer of conifers and sprouting weeds, from the pocket of her jeans, she swaps her hand to trace the rough exterior of the trees. None of the city maps could have led her here but she’ll need one to leave. Is that what it’s like to be free?
She lost herself betwixt ever changing leaves, heady among the trees. She wept joyously beneath the wild skies as she saw the stars shining brightly. They shone and debuted stories of ancient times. She pinched herself, she could not live an ordinary life with an undisclosed universe camouflaged from her eyes.
Towing her luggage she knew they wondered why she left, to her but an alien, to them an alien species to her. In this clearing she knew that they were not sharing light, the glaring hive was sharing fears.
Onism ~ The frustration of being stuck in just one body, that inhabits only one place at a time, which is like standing in front of the departures screen at an airport, flickering over with strange place names like other people’s passwords, each representing one more thing you’ll never get to see before you die—and all because, as the arrow on the map helpfully points out, you are here.
When visitors stumbled upon scores of heavy stones that appeared to have moved across the dried lake bed of Racetrack Playa in California’s Death Valley National Park, leaving a tell-tale trail in their wake, scientists were baffled. How had so many boulders, some weighing 300kg, moved as much as 250m across this remote part of the valley, asks Quora user Farhana Khanum?
Adding to the mystery, some trails were gracefully curved, while others were straight with sudden shifts to the left or right. Who, or what, had moved the stones? A slew of theories emerged, from magnetic fields to alien intervention to dust devils to pranksters.
It took a NASA scientist to crack the case. In 2006, Ralph Lorenz developed a kitchen table model using a small rock frozen in an inch of water in a Tupperware container to demonstrate ice shove, the phenomenon behind the mysterious sailing stones.
In winter, Racetrack Playa fills with water and the lakebed’s stones become encased in ice. Thanks to ice’s buoyancy, even a light breeze can send those frozen boulders sailing across the muddy bottom of the lakebed. Stones with rough bottoms leave straight tracks, while those with smooth bottoms drift and digress. Warmer months melt the ice and evaporate the water, leaving only the stones and their mysterious trails.
People can see these sailing stones in a few locations, including Little Bonne Claire Playa in Nevada and most famously, Death Valley’s Racetrack Playa.