Never get above yourself – that’s the lesson. But never get below yourself, either. Never think you can descend – that you’re worthy enough to descend.
What if we have no depths? What if we bring our superficiality with us, no matter how far we descend?
What’s waiting for us below?
The same thing that’s awaiting for us up there: a new revelation of our stupidity.
At least it’ll be new. At least there’ll be some novelty.
Our pettiness – so great. Our concerns – so trivial. Our souls – so shallow.
What’s the opposite of an astronaut? What’s an astronaut of the earth?
They descended because they couldn’t bear the surface. They went down because they couldn’t stand the light, not anymore. Because they knew the light was coming.
Darkness is the gnostic element. It’s where Gnosticism bubbles and froths, like Livia’s wine.
Gone to ground. Buried. Lost. And just sinking down. Heavier than anything.
The descent into farce is still a descent.
A farcical descent.
That’s good enough.
It has to be good enough.
The failed katabasis is still a katabasis.
It’s a katabasis in spirit.
A katabasis in degradation.
But it’s not an actual katabasis.
It’s a katabasis from the katabasis.
Too clever for me.
A descent from the descent.
Like we’re not worthy of real descent.
So it’s not a descent then, is it?
It’s the shallows. We’re still in the shallows.
We’re not going down. We’re not descending – that’s the point. You need humility for that.
Surely we can’t be surprised by it anymore – our degradation? How far we’ve sunk. But we haven’t actually sunk.
Maybe we’ll find a version of the dead sea scrolls down here.
The Tyneford scrolls. Hidden in Tyneford boulder clay. Written in some ancient Geordie language. Why-ay, man. The Geordie Gnostics …
Work in Progress 