homunculi halucinati

When I was a child I’d draw imaginary creatures and craft entire worlds and backstories for them in my head.

 started from a childhood protected by loving parents, given free creative play time, times of playing with stuffed animals and reading things like Redwall and other children’s books that make real the lives of animals; personify them. Magic, lord of the rings, all of these stories and fables of Greek and Roman mythology… 

It creates its own world in the head of a child; conventional religion and is stories are boring and lame compared to the worlds and ideas that you know clever writers crafted, rather than weird old broken telephone stories passed by word of mouth and eventually codified by the old men with too much time on their hands.

It’s paradoxical really….

The paradox you mention lies in the contrast between the imaginative freedom you experienced and the perceived rigidity of established religions and myths. While these older stories possess some undeniable ur/ formational value, they can sometimes feel distant and less relatable compared to the personal worlds we cultivate in our youth. Entire comic worlds become gospels. 

Perhaps the key lies in recognizing that both forms of narratives serve different and similar purposes. Conventional old religious stories offer shared ground, connecting us to a cultural heritage and group collective understanding. Our personal combination creations, on the other hand, nurture individuality and exploration, and are personal mythologies, shaped by our unique experiences and desires. 

One provides a foundation, while the other empowers us to build upon it, creating something entirely our own.

The worlds we create influence our views of the real world.

There was a character I could never draw but I imagined as a paper mâchée and wicker hooded Druidic monk, not really of this world, but visiting and observing. An oblong snout and strange patterns and textures that defied the standard stare. 

This thing I imagined, I finally realized in 2024 with the aid of AI.

Was this a creature that other have dreamt too? Why does it feel so familiar, and why are its different variations uncannily linked via some similar “soul”. 

New religions come out of regurgitating the Past in the eyes of a new viewer. 

What once might have been real becomes symbolic. 

The idea of an homoncule of alien origins is likely one of man’s oldest images; a face seen in the dark.

Knots in a tree in the forest as you wake staring like a face at you. 

Why do our eyes decieve us so much

Why do they decide so much of our thoughts 

Perception goes beyond sight 

Preception is the act of imbuing a world with ur stories; and so we find ourselves, lonely creatures seeking patterns and meaning. We peer into the darkness and see faces - projections of our deepest hopes and fears. The forest whispers and we lean in, eager to hear secrets and signs meant just for us.

Perception is our curse, our isolation. Shared perception gives the perceptions of shared belonging 💧. 

We are driven by this yearning to find purpose, to see ourselves reflected back. And when mere trees and shadows will not suffice, we conjure up gods and demons, conspiracy and fate. We tell ourselves stories of grand design to combat the unintelligibility of a silent universe.

This is the truth we cannot face - that there is no author to our lives but ourselves. The eyes that meet ours through the gloom are none other than versions of our own. We imbue the world with meaning because we have no other choice; it is written in our very blood and bones. We dream ourselves up from the dark and back again, creative beings seeking solace and understanding the only ways we know how.

But still there is a yearning beyond being amongst friendly faces and sheltered from the scary ones. 

And so we wander still - peering, questioning, seeking. Crafting tales, we edge closer to truths that skitter away like figures in the gloom. Face by face, our eyes adjust and make out the contours of meaning. 

Story by story, we build bridges to what comprehension our minds allow. And for all the uncertainty ahead, all the vast unmapped wilderness of mystery, we walk on, driven by the faith that truth lies somewhere waiting in the darkness, wanting- perhaps as much as we Do - to be found. 

Beyond the next spin and weave, lies the hope of insight. 

Beyond the next flickering perception lies the promise of connection. 

And so go forth and progress - scared, maybe, but still be seeking. Still be dreaming. Still be peering into shadows; looking for understanding, and occasionally finding the light of revelation staring back, wearing a familiar face that was ours all along.

After all we turn to soil and feed the future trees that face our future generations.