Get low. Get as low as you can. Keep low. But how do you get there? Mood gets you there. Holds you to itself and drowns you. Until it is just you and the mood, and the mood everywhere. As if the mood preceded you. As if it was the mood first, and then you, or that the mood was always waiting to dissolve you and that you were only ever a perturbation of its surface.
The mood into which you cannot step into even once. And that is part of the step that draws you to it, that belongs to that same fatality. What does it take to discover such a mood? Where does it lie, waiting for you? Where is it hidden, there at the base of everything, just below? And that terrible, dreadful surging upwards. That kind of seeking as it looks for you. As it knows you’ve already gone to meet it.
Lars Iyer's Blog 