The Tower. (intro) by Paolo DaTorino

The Tower Exploring Consciousness From Unknown Darkness to Cosmic Light

Paolo DaTorino Access to the full version of The TOWER: http://cimecorp.com/tower/unabridged.html

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PREAMBLE

At an unspecified point between the immense energy of creation and the glacial silence of universeâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s ultimate death at the end of time - now, after eras the mind can only try to imagine and retrace, and before futures we canâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;t say, - now, my life, my thought, the only things whose existence I can truly feel, my life and my thought fill my time, which is everything, and give reason and urgency to moving, doing, chasing the dreams I touch.

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The TOWER He climbed – at night – the twisted stairs that took to the top of the tower. No longer as often as he once did – because many had been the fatigues weighing on his step. Nonetheless, when he got there, his breath was broken still, not for the strain of going up high, but by the splendor suddenly opening in front of him. Sky at night – big and warm – blinking lights at each new sight. Thought started wandering with no end, no time, no limits or boundaries. Admiring the boundless greatness of the space around him, of the infinite galaxies, not the smallness of the body he felt, but the immensity of thought, and the infinite shades it could touch. Of that greatness he was part, free and omnipotent, as endless himself as those worlds could be thought.

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QUESTIONS Which is true life?, he couldn’t help wondering. Was it the daily moving among others? – threading the thin silk of life in the group – Or was it the wild freedom of traveling in his mind? Or was it that placing himself at the center of space, looking at all those elements spinning around, without an end, without limits? Of these, which would have left a deeper mark? And would there really have been a mark left, eventually, a trace, as proof and witness of an existence? That was not the largest issue, anyway. It is not what one leaves behind, however grand that could be, that saves from eternal oblivion. One dies forever when one dies. At least as far as the sensation of one’s physical being. What others believe doesn’t count, as doesn’t count the (so called) immortality in history or human memory. What must be decided is how to spend what we have, the time – always short –and the energies – unlimited – we have inside. Almost incompatible, the force and the amount and diversity of the thinkable things, of what we can live inside, with the possibilities of the real, with the rules of living with others, with the stupid cages we build around ourselves, without realizing it, without wanting it, day after day, year after year. You must do what you have inside. To dilute, to justify, you can’t, or sooner or later you’ll pay for its banality.

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PERFECTION Not many are the moments when you almost manage to touch the highest, being so close to absolute beauty, absolute strength, owning a bit of it, participating in the sense of the infinite. A sky in the mountain at night, cold crystal full of pulsating, far and never to be known lives, and a fire burning nearby, reminding of the heat inside those stars, so far and yet so deeply cast in your soul. The body lost in them, becoming infinite even as it touches a cold earth. * The sun inundating with light from every angle, over expanses of snow, the purest sheet covering powerful shapes of fallen gods; and the wind icily blowing into the eyes, lost in that extreme brightness. * The body stretched into the wind, meeting smells and feelings from far and mysterious lands; the black sea ahead, screaming in waves, in an endless rhythm that takes you away. And that force that is physically against you but lifts your spirit and takes it away and makes you a part of that unstoppable energy. That flow that owns you and lets you be anywhere. The noise, the screaming of the storm, giving you the sense of adventure. The black of the night and the forces hiding in it. Your pleasure in this unspeakable energy, that now you own.

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BIG BANG The fabulous means of our science allow us today to look back in time. By reading the stories written by the evolving universe in various messages - that is various wavelengths - signatures of a richly varied nature, we begin to understand how the universe formed. Everything converges back in time towards the image of an initial explosion (or in fact a startling expansion from an infinitely small nothing to a fast and boundlessly expanding space). From that we see the flow of immense energy – almost inconceivable or difficult to conceive- changing shape in different waves, traveling unrestrained. We see them forming the first particles of matter – fabulously microscopic, in an already enormous volume. The first particles finally touching to form larger ones, till what we call the atom. And these, moving in semi-infinite fields of energy – forming new particles, other elementary particles – building in progressive geometries a collection of elements which we uncreatively ruled in a table. The smallest atom growing, in the embrace of unthinkable energies, doubling – first step towards more complex creations - which we later tried to emulate with motivation other than creating, unwise as we usually are – moves wildly fast in the cauldron of its sun and generates a more complex unit, bonding to the element to which it is compatible – in a story of high energy love. And so on, in a fascinating progression to more and more complex elements, minerals, liquids, elementary parts themselves that could melt together and then form planets, the new homes of more complex organisms, which, from small lichens became richer beings, created plants, gave what was needed to grow to life forms that, still inexplicably to us, began to evolve. And up and beyond. Up to us, up to you and me. It is ironic to think that the fascination I felt for science turned me away from religion, many years ago. I did not find in it the answers I was looking for. I wanted a model to describe what others called mystery. I look back to the sequence of time, to the continuous flow of energy that defines and controls what happens to everything that existed through the centuries. And every thing turns out to be the fruit of an individual fold in the energy that generated it. Every expression of energy, sister to every other one, next fruit of another step in the walk that started in that fantastic explosion. Today nobody yet asks why and how that explosion happened. Where did that total energy come from. Who placed it all in a physical point in space, only theoretical until

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then. Who or what made it leave in that perhaps infinite voyage of expansion. An answer is not there yet, but a call from within can be felt. And it doesnâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;t matter if it is still called mystery. And by the way, at least it is scientifically indisputable that it is not so rhetorical to think of your neighbor as your brother.

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THE SUBLIME IN A STREET There’s a part of the world – of the people of the world – that carries the load of living, the knowledge of beauty, the tragedy, the lyrical. Others do not see. These can find comfort, sometimes enthusiasm, in their capacity to generate or recreate sublime deeds – like divine violin sounds – chasing one another so beautiful and pure – in the most farfetched locations – a busy street for instance – where the monsters of daily life cannot cover nor usurp the infinite superiority of the divine, so mysteriously yet almost easily recreated. Your fresh young body, white flesh in a long black dress, so unexpected in the crowd of that pagan place. Your sweet arms, young, that have seen so little, but too much already, of the world. All taut, recreating sounds from infinitely far from here – marvelously abstract and serene. You do that for the few coins that the hasty passers-by throw at you at times. Do not throw away the divine gift of beauty. The futile but harnessing things of life will try and separate you from it. I can only wish you to find a balance and a sense of integrity and not scatter your gifts. Beautiful girl who could play so well that music from long gone times, so elegant in our tumultuous and coarse days. In you resides the conscience of living, our life’s dignity, that is so often lost or ignored or raped by daily vulgarities. The hope of a meaning, of a higher cause. Perhaps a way for the divine to show itself, if it ever wanted to show itself. Others do not see. But because you are, there is hope.

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ASTROPHYSICS AND MUSIC

Thousands of worlds like ours. Their strength, their weight, the things inside them, enormous for us to see. A blast of energy, absurdly large on such a far scale, can turn that mass in a system of impalpable waves. Such a turmoil is reduced in time and space and reaches me, visible, negotiable, as a point of light arriving to me from billions of years past. Small effect on the whole, a thousand times neglected. So, as majestic can be the elegant roll of this music, now wrapping me - waves of energy â&#x20AC;&#x201C; of spirit In the dangerous game of judging the enormous and the trivial

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SOLITUDE That evening he met Solitude. Are you alone?, she asked him coyly looking at him. I’ve been alone ever since my mother’s embrace left me, he answered abruptly, without thinking. I walked in the world, have known many, talked, exchanged ideas, fought, I’ve even agreed with someone. I loved, had deep and long friendships. It would seem I've not been alone. And I should not feel alone. So strange, though, that always, even after the fullest days, after the most meaningful and richest experiences, I always found myself at that point in time, when at night I prepare to sleep, in which, the full vortex of adventure now vanished, the fast rhythm of what had filled and absorbed me till a moment before, I always found myself – alone – looking a doubt in the eye, the agony of a choice, the decision for tomorrow, what to do. The world spinning around makes noise. The dearest friend can suggest. What was written in a book by someone I respect can be taken as example. But my life I have always decided by myself. My fears as well as my joys I always lived alone. At the end I always find myself at that same spot, looking at the world, the universe, the endless time, my life. Wondering those not so new questions about what am I doing here, where am I going, what sense does it all have. And nobody can answer, no person nor the idea of something else, can relieve me from my ultimate responsibility. To understand what I can do to give meaning to my being here. To give an intellectual value, to add to and redeem my brute metabolism. I’ve always been alone, wondering why. At times cursing the irony of this life that teases us all and makes us chase enchanting sirens, that makes us believe there are always new things to understand, to have, to give. Things to achieve. Year after year, for so long, I chased the dream to loose you, Solitude, to win you. I thought a new love would have rescued and redeemed me. I hoped I could melt my soul into hers and our common feeling would have changed both of our lives. That is what love should have done. Her eyes were green, then brown, then blue, then others, different, again. The smile has been full, then sad, then useless. The embrace strong, the body hot, the senses full; then colder. Many have been the eyes in which I gazed, looking for the soul that would finally blend with mine. But the night has always come, letting me look at myself and the vacuum around. Repeating the same questions. That I still need to answer.

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I’ve always been alone. You, Solitude, are the only companion I’ve been given, that’s been given to me as to everyone else. You tortured me, you hurt me, you made me cry. You’ve been the sweetest friend, at times, and consoled me when I needed it. Always you laughed at me. After all, I do know your secret. The only reason why I feel less teased. A little bit I did understand you, therefore I own you. She smiled at him, Solitude, and left.

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EARTH ORBITS In this picture, taken from a satellite in earth orbit, you see the blue sea, the green and brown land and the white clouds and snow. You don't see the street in front of home, you don't see home, the car, your son running in the lawn. And it's just a picture taken from a point in space near us, if we can say so, from an object orbiting nearby. Which is already different than taking a picture at the park. A little ball (the satellite) spinning around Earth gives us a strange sense of purity in a new perspective of dream, of blue and sky. A system, this one, big and aesthetically attractive. But a nothing already if all of a sudden you step back and look from the outside at our solar system, with the other planets, those names learned once at school, so familiar, Mars, Jupiter, etcetera. Enormously bigger this system, with respect to the one seen from the friendly satellite, that took that picture of Earth. Beautiful to look at all these planets, in their elegant although simple turns around our Sun. Big father, the Sun, giving us the energy to live and to all the rest to function in the world that we know. Perfect and beautiful this solar system of ours. Home, so to speak. But looking at all this, where is my house, where is the street that takes me to you, the hill where I kissed you that far, fairy night? Too far to see. Too little, my emotions, to be able to see them from here. And it's only the beginning! In this cosmic dance I step back again and my Sun is a tiny spot in a galaxy so many times larger. Those planets of ours around it can no longer be seen, and I have to really stretch to see some others around a nearby star. I have to squeeze my eyes and make strange faces to see the geometries of the stars in this galaxy of mine. That try to run away and run around strangely in front of me, in turns and at a speed that no roller coaster could emulate. And here we are, riding on all this, yet thinking that we are peacefully reading a book. I still recognize those stars and play a bit with that strange order in which they seem to be, which I call constellations, in which our ancestors saw bodies, common objects, familiar marks.

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How long will I have to walk from this to that star, that is inviting me this wonderful night? A walk I will never be able to take, alas, so much farther than me and you. Sometime we don't understand each other, you and I, and we've been so close. We've been one in the love we gave each other. Now we're far from one another, almost as much as those stars that I shall never reach with my legs or not even on a space ship, like those in the movies. And we are so near. But it doesn't matter much. We'll never touch each other again. Fortunately I can do this: I can think. Connecting to the thought of the many that still live with me and of those that are no longer alive, at least in their body, but left me and everyone else their thoughts and what they understood. Which allows me to go away from here, from this room and take me and you with me to that star, that I love so much and could never touch, but is mine, for the thought alive in me.

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FIRE Fire went to him one night, suddenly, and wrapped him in his thousand magic arms. He had joy from this, from being part again of that infinite game of free energy, without a shape, without a plot. Fire had been his companion many times, in moments of pause among always fantastic places. Immediately he was its prey, not being able to escape those continuously repeating spires that hypnotized, absorbed, and attracted him inside them. Thought always got free, as light as those sparkles that came crackling from it, that the eyes never wanted to leave. Arcane magic can happen in front of a big proud fire. My eyes lost in it, that magic could touch my soul and make more intense the bond to the mind and body of the friend who, sitting at my side, is also wandering in those turns. Something seems to have blended inside us, and that soft breath, those arms turned up, fleeting, impalpable and alive have shared an ancient secret, to be enjoyed before it escapes and turns to ashes.

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THE UNIVERSE AND YOU There are the things that stress you, the money you need, the things you want, difficulties at work, in society, in this weird world. Then you look deeper. And there is an expanding universe. And you sitting on a small piece of land, dimensionally insignificant, so small. It is almost not possible to have a real sense of the dimensions of this volume of which we are part. It doesn't seem logical to compare the enormity of these never traveled distances to what physically touches us in our life. But our life, our consciousness, is part of this universe, it feels it, it touches it, roams in it with happy wide eyes. This enormous universe, all inside you.

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The Tower Exploring Consciousness from Unknown Darkness to Cosmic Light

Access to the full version of The TOWER: http://cimecorp.com/tower/unabridged.html