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Simple Musings

Hm, Im not sure if this counts as a blog entry, or simply me thinking out loud. Though isn't that what a blog is? I dont know.




As of late, I have been thinking around the power of creation. The power that brought me and of course my beautiful mate, not to mention all of our friends.Though there are different kinds of creation, I find the way we were brought about to be the grandest. Life from ink, a very divine substance of its own. A substance of communication when turned into words, a substance of life when put to art, something you guide to bring about beauty and something that can guide itself when left to its own devices. Art, a wonderful thing, all of it perfect in its way. Thoughts become tangible, tangible becomes manageable, manageable becomes beautiful. Or, in reverse, causing a cycle of life from dreams... and such, creation. I feel life starts on the page, not when it springs from obsidian puddles.

But that does raise a question. At what point does life become real? When a being is aware of itself? When a piece means something to someone and resonates with them? I know I'm real, but I cannot prove I am real. In a way, no one can truly prove they exist nor the existence of the world around them, and yet we all know we are real to ourselves. We know what that feels like but cannot describe. Surely we think, we feel, but it is more than that. An awareness on a level with no words to describe. Can someone become real if thought enough? Is being real in ones heart truly real? I cannot say, and I know each have their own definition of real. I look down at myself, in my true form, and I see me, Bendy. I see the sleek black of my body, and the soft white of my face in a way only I perceive, for everyone sees a bit different. I know I think, I am doing it now. I know I talk, I know my own voice the way you know yours. I remember the past of the studio, and I know I go there to work, I know the worn feeling of the wood and the warm malleable feel of the ink, the substance I came from, the substance of life.

Of course, some folks say I am not but Pearls coping tool, which, perhaps thats how I started. But to me I am real and home is real, which would say perhaps life starts before the page. Perhaps the thoughts of a single being can will life into reality and worlds into true things. Life is such a complicated, beautiful thing, When is it created? And, if I did originate from her, which of us came first? Was I always there, or simply a new entity created from the air of a mind? Of course I will belive that we both existed long before she was brought here, I simply find other angles interesting to explore, the endless what ifs surrounding creation.

I'll say, perhaps back home, in the blood of our life I too could create more. But would it be fair? Does anyone ask to be made? I do not know, but the urge to test something so beautiful is there. I think I should wait for Pearls return home for that, so we can share the beauty. Perhaps we could find a way to bring back the soul of the child we adopted. But no, that would not be fair. She is resting now no matter how much she is missed. Perhaps she has gone on elsewhere to live, and maybe life never ends.

Of course.. these are simply thoughts

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InkyDaily
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