When humans discovered the new winding territory inside the jungle of their 20billion tangled neurons, they began winding a story that is too long to let go of.
Watch a Human's flesh rot. A man's flesh can rot out from under him while he's not yet finished spinning his yarn.
We are addicted to a story with an end, it galls us if a story remains unfinished.
Yet, for every story, we can imagine another episode. For every epic, we can imagine another verse. We imagine infinity.
With millions of sensors, trillions of recognition circuits, falling in love circuits, we fall in love deeply, as deep as an endless muddy pit we fall into in misstep in the jungle, roots hanging out the sides.
With twenty thousand billion connections registering, we can attain concentration, attain attunement with life to the 10th decimal place. This is eternity.
When we tie each bleeding end of the rootlet falling down that deep hole, when we identify each detail, when we identify ten thousand details, that's attachment. When we tie ourselves nervelet to rootlet to life ten thousand details, we can't let go.
When we sink into our lover ten thousand nights in a row spreading our roots into her deeper and deeper, we can't let go.
When life becomes so intricate, death becomes such an alien mystery. We become entranced by it.
We can remember vividly her face, her smile, her laughter, her story, but when we cut into our flesh and the blood spills out, the memories are not there. When we cut into our flesh the memories are not there.