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Everyone’s life is a work of art. It is created by them, and for them. It lives while they live and it dies when they die.

Every moment of these creative artists’ lives, from birth to death, is mediated by their core being, and every moment is a completed work. But we all know that its beauty can only be perceived, experienced and appreciated by the artists  themselves.

Other beings can only experience the external manifestations and these are superficial external things, and they are experienced as filtered through these other people’s personal webs of mind. Those images are that second being’s art, and it is trapped within them, as each person’s art is a work that is forever trapped within them. The essence of I is trapped within me, and me is trapped within I, like the Yin Yang cycling each other, trapped, spinning in a circle. The personal I looks out and sees patterns. We each look out from our inner eye and see unique patterns, and they are mediated by our history and our habitual responses to our history.

I see patterns that others don’t see, and known only to a few, my secret name is Apophenio — the one who sees what others do not. I see patterns that are really there in physical reality, and I can point to the relationships that others can see, and they do see the parts, but they don’t see the whole, and thus they deny that a pattern exists. Then if I show them the pattern, and challenge them to observe that it is there, they admit that they can see the pattern, but they deny that it has any significance. Then they admit that if it were true that it would have meaning, but it falls outside of their experience, and therefore it isn’t real and has no meaning, it’s just a random pattern.

What becomes strange, at least to me, is that when an identical pattern is shown to overlay other phenomena, and thus to exist in a totally separate situation, it is also denied, at least at first, and the whole process of showing and proving begins cycling again. But what happens is that the recurrence of the same repeated phenomenon isn’t proof to the others that there is a deeper relationship; instead it is proof of my projection of these relationships and is therefore proof of my insanity and a clear proof that my inner artwork, my ability to see patterns, has gone astray.

Perhaps every person’s own inner artwork is seen by others as bizarre and insane if the individual is foolish enough to expose themselves and IT.

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