Far far away
Feb. 10th, 2008 09:34 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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theatrical_muse 1/27/2005, 24 of 50.
What's the furthest away you've ever been from the place you were born/created? How did you get there? Why did you go? Did you return or even want to come back to where you came from?
What's the furthest away I've ever been? As far as there is.
I've been to the birth of the universe and to its outermost reaches. I've gone to more universes outside my own than I can easily count. I spend most of my time, in fact, in a dimension that technically is not the one I was born in, though if you want to get really snarky about it we did originally come from here a long long time ago. (In one view of time. In another view, we have always existed in the place where I was born/created/whatever you want to call it,and we always will. Depends on how you look at it.)
But in the end I always come home. Because as stultifyingly boring as it can be, as much as the people there are, quite frankly, asses, as incredibly tedious as the time spent there is... it's home. And while I recall expounding at length, once upon a time, about how much I'd be glad to see the back of that place, the one time I thought I was exiled for good was not a pleasant experience.
That's not the real question, though. Distance is irrelevant to the Q. I could go to the end of the universe and it would just be another trip. Another way to interpret the question is to describe the journey of a self. Not the external exploration of stars and planets and wormholes and all that kind of nonsense, because none of that means anything if it doesn't cause your self to move forward on your personal journey away from where/what you were when you were born. This is true of species, it's true of mortals, and it's true of immortals, because immortals that lack a personal journey are so boring they may as well be dead. And in that sense, I think sometimes I'm *very* far away from who and what I once was. And sometimes I long to return. That's the thing about personal journeys, though; it's not so easy to go back home when "home" is the origin of your selfhood, not an objective place or time.
theatrical_muse 1/27/2005, 24 of 50.What's the furthest away you've ever been from the place you were born/created? How did you get there? Why did you go? Did you return or even want to come back to where you came from?
What's the furthest away I've ever been? As far as there is.
I've been to the birth of the universe and to its outermost reaches. I've gone to more universes outside my own than I can easily count. I spend most of my time, in fact, in a dimension that technically is not the one I was born in, though if you want to get really snarky about it we did originally come from here a long long time ago. (In one view of time. In another view, we have always existed in the place where I was born/created/whatever you want to call it,and we always will. Depends on how you look at it.)
But in the end I always come home. Because as stultifyingly boring as it can be, as much as the people there are, quite frankly, asses, as incredibly tedious as the time spent there is... it's home. And while I recall expounding at length, once upon a time, about how much I'd be glad to see the back of that place, the one time I thought I was exiled for good was not a pleasant experience.
That's not the real question, though. Distance is irrelevant to the Q. I could go to the end of the universe and it would just be another trip. Another way to interpret the question is to describe the journey of a self. Not the external exploration of stars and planets and wormholes and all that kind of nonsense, because none of that means anything if it doesn't cause your self to move forward on your personal journey away from where/what you were when you were born. This is true of species, it's true of mortals, and it's true of immortals, because immortals that lack a personal journey are so boring they may as well be dead. And in that sense, I think sometimes I'm *very* far away from who and what I once was. And sometimes I long to return. That's the thing about personal journeys, though; it's not so easy to go back home when "home" is the origin of your selfhood, not an objective place or time.
