{"id":382,"date":"2025-07-23T21:32:09","date_gmt":"2025-07-23T20:32:09","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/www.cydonis.co.uk\/blog\/?p=382"},"modified":"2025-07-23T21:32:11","modified_gmt":"2025-07-23T20:32:11","slug":"2004-01-21-the-beginning-of-an-existential-polymetacrisis","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.cydonis.co.uk\/blog\/2025\/07\/23\/2004-01-21-the-beginning-of-an-existential-polymetacrisis\/","title":{"rendered":"(2004-01-~21): The Beginning of an Existential Polymetacrisis."},"content":{"rendered":"\n
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For myself, and the human race.<\/em><\/h2>\n\n\n\n
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“She wrote a letter on rose petals, scattered through time.”<\/em><\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n

I can vividly remember that morning. That feeling of unease with one’s lot in life. Is this it? Is this all that this skinny or sometimes chubby bipedal ape species ever does? Or ever will do? I didn’t ask to be brought into this seemingly insane world \ud83c\udf0d of arbitrary rules. Rules made by kids that got tall. That 9am to 7pm grind, every weekday?! <\/p>\n\n\n\n

“Pitiiful. I don’t want to tolerate it, but I guess I must…”<\/em> <\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n

Post 9\/11. The world had been flipped upside down and shaken to it’s core. And shaken me deeply too. Living on Kirkgate. Getting ready for work at Cash Converters. Putting on my red polo shirt uniform. I tolerated the job. I had started working there as a means to support myself through college, but the hours were long, too long; and I was tasked with carrying heavy furniture and televisions up and down multiple flights of stairs, for only the minimum wage at the time, and my rent and bills were rather extortionate. It was back breaking toil with often rude and abusive customers. It gradually started to erode my faith in humanity.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

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The 2011 Riots: Cash Converters on Salford Precinct. Manchester. “And round and round that abyssal wreck…” Image Credit: Wikipedia.<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n\n\n\n

One of my favourite bands was playing their newest song on the radio. I was in such a rush, as ever, that my freshly-showered hair was still wet, little droplets of water dripping down my forehead and into my eyes, like so many tears, lost in the rain. I hated this job, this lot in life that had apparently been handed to me. I felt as if I had been thrust into a terrible universe, in some deep abiding sense, from what had perhaps been a great one, perhaps in some former lifespan, or at least that’s what some new-found Buddhist friends had told me in our many long conversations on religion and spirituality.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

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“Every singular thing, or anything which is finite and has a determinate existence, can neither exist nor be determined to produce an effect unless it is determined to exist and produce an effect by another cause, which is also finite and has a determinate existence; and again, this cause can neither exist nor be determined to produce an effect <\/a>unless it is determined to exist and produce an effect by another, which is also finite and has a determinate existence, and so on, to infinity. (IP28).” – Spinoza.<\/a><\/mark><\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n


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