Ellipses

At this juncture we must pause (as all great and aspiring ruminants are required by their genetic inclinations and personal proclivities to do) and cogitate upon the very act of cogitation itself. Profoundly intelligent people have attempted to unravel the complications of cognition, to wrest from its ethereal shape and substance something more tangible and concrete, at the very least by way of explication. But this fruit has proven throughout our species’ short-lived macroculture, to be covered the whole concept over, so to speak, with many thorns; and revealing to us many arcane (though endlessly and happily diverting) byways of imagination and clever imponderables. It is rather like getting to the inner truth of an inflated balloon, in that the closer we inch to negotiating successfully our tenuous methodologies for piercing its rather stubborn, pliant, resilient surface, and finally plunging inward, we are left to discover that the balloon has morphed into a wholly different shape (now that its surface has been breached), with plenty more of the evanescent to pursue and quantify.

Have you concluded via both experiential and more fanciful and lofty flights of thoughts what it is? Has the true, unvarying character of your life’s elliptic trundle bumbled you headlong into the synecdoche of you and it in parallel? Perhaps this is an intended, natural consequence of our intractable insistence of sussing out the insuperables of the cosmos and our (diminutive or exalted (hard to say definitively, as there are proponents of both exclamations (exclamatory due to the arrogance of imagining that we will figure it all out))) determination not to be dissuaded.