A Treatise on the Self and the Moment

What or who can we really be, beyond this moment? The only existence beyond this moment is a story we tell ourselves. Beyond this moment lies a future full of projections of the past, including the media we’ve consumed which contributes to fear, and things going “wrong.” Beyond this moment also lies a past full of lessons, including those that we’ve learned from which magically became a part of who we are in this moment. 

So “beyond” this moment, be it future imagination or past memories, really just exists inside our head.

In order to live beyond this moment, one must subscribe themselves to a collective cooperation, like society. Participation in society is a contract to tell stories of ourselves, so we can be understood by yet others telling stories of themselves, in order to facilitate systems of organization like governance & commerce.

In sum: to be a member of society, one must tell stories of the past and of the future. To sell a future one must convince another of a past. To create a result one must step on the foundation of a cause. There must exist binary opposition of past & future in our society’s present, leaving us at the zero in between them both: this moment.

The first question to the spiritually beholden: Why must I participate in society if it is inherently contradicting the truth of my existential nature? I do not exist beyond the moment, only my stories exist beyond the moment!

The first answer: you do not have to participate in society. There is always a way to ex-communicate yourself. 

But that leads to the second question: Do you want to be alienated from others with the same nature as you?

The second answer: if you tell yourself that yes, you do want to be isolated, then it’s another story. How will you tell stories if you have no one to tell them to?

I’ll tell them to myself! And soon you will crave society more than ever, because there is no creative satisfaction when reception lacks.

And inevitably, the third and final question: So is storytelling thus part of my existence?

Less inevitably, the third and final answer: Bingo. The paradox is in your being. Your story continues yet no narration follows you. Your arc follows patterns, cycles even, yet you’ll never see them until after. A story can always be told.

So you exist in this moment, yet a story of you exists beyond this moment. What does that mean for this moment?