☀ The Sea.
There’s a world or a space that belongs to ideas, where they touch and push and combine with each other, and that world mostly intersects with ours inside of human skulls, but there other physical places where they are more visible or at least concentrated heavily enough to be felt, if not seen. Some of these places just the secondary effects of the ideas that enter into our world though the skulls, residue of the skull’s subsequent actions upon intersecting with an idea and some of them are places where ideas are so strong that they are embedded into the brick and plaster and steel - huge temples with great halls to serve the will of the ideas, closed rooms, darkened lest the ideas stir from their dreaming.
The human world is often described as described in terms of its component ideas and usually in the same breath the human owners of the ideas are named. Often these owners are not the ones whose skulls collided with the idea in the first place, they just saw something they could attach themselves to and did, allowing the tremendous force and power of the grand idea to pull them through the world, and these people imagine themselves as commanding a team of strong horses, guiding them with their own will, instead of the truth, which is of course that the idea turns when it wishes to turn and runs when it wishes to run and when it collides with another idea that is because of its own internal forces and not those of any human skull.
Laying claim to a collection of ideas is like saying that every fish in a certain part of the sea is yours because you have decreed it so. The sea is larger than any human or group of humans can control, and like the realm of ideas, unexpected things emerge from it every day. No one power controls it, there are simply those who can cut their way through it faster than others, and even these do not know all of the depths below them.
Ideas mix and breed and grow and push and sleep and die, and they cannot be made to do anything. Some of those who have gained from the chance presence of a particular idea in the human world learn this, and some of them do not. Those who do are apt to ride the huge crests of energy in the wakes of ideas moving through the world. Those who do not are apt to react with fear and hatred to ideas which threaten their own chance gains, because a new idea might allow another person to profit by chance, too. Then there are those who can neither ride nor run, those who can’t be bothered by the trouble of something unpredictable, but find other people to handle the idea for them, to guide it or fight it, to smooth out the rough surfaces of an idea’s path. To be a handler is to have very little control of anything at all — not the idea nor the will of those who wish you to harness it.
Nobody is running the show. We all reach into the sea and see what we can fetch out of it, but no one owns the sea, no matter how powerful they might seem. It belongs only to itself. We are merely borrowing unused energy from it.
