At first, there is still someone noticing.
Or something like someone.
A slight gathering at the edge of perception where noticing seems to take place.
Liora stands by the water.
And there is awareness of standing.
And awareness of the water.
And awareness that awareness is happening.
For a moment, this feels stable.
Not because anything has resolved.
But because the structure of noticing still appears to hold:
something is seen
something sees
something registers that seeing is occurring
A simple loop.
Almost reassuring.
She tries to stay with it.
Not the water.
Not the movement.
But the one who is noticing the movement.
And immediately—
it begins to loosen.
Not dissolve.
Not disappear.
But fail to remain singular.
The noticing splits.
Not into parts.
But into slightly misaligned currents of attention that cannot agree on where noticing is occurring.
There is noticing of the water.
And noticing of noticing the water.
And then—
a third movement that cannot decide whether it is noticing at all, or simply continuing the pattern that allows noticing to be inferred.
Liora pauses.
Or pause occurs within a configuration that resembles Liora.
“I am noticing this,” she says.
But the sentence does not anchor.
It disperses across multiple positions where “I” might have been stabilised.
Because now the question is no longer what is being noticed.
It is:
who is doing the noticing?
And that question does not resolve.
It multiplies.
One version of Liora notices the water.
Another notices the instability of noticing.
Another cannot locate a position from which either could be distinguished.
And none of these versions can be held long enough to become “the observer.”
There is only:
noticing without centre
noticing that distributes itself across what is noticed
noticing that fails to return to a single point of origin
She tries again.
Or the attempt to stabilise observation repeats itself within the field.
Focus.
But focus does not gather.
It spreads.
As though attention itself is no longer a beam but a field of small, incompatible presences.
“I am here,” she says.
But “here” does not settle.
It shifts depending on which strand of noticing is momentarily more coherent.
And then—
something subtler happens.
The idea of “Liora noticing” begins to feel like something that is being constructed retrospectively.
As if noticing has already occurred elsewhere, and what is happening now is only its echo attempting to locate a source.
The observer does not vanish.
It fails to stabilise.
There is no moment of disappearance.
Only a gradual loss of coherence in the idea that there was ever a single place from which seeing occurred.
The water continues.
But not for someone.
Not against someone.
Not even with someone.
It simply continues as one configuration among others that no longer require a unified witness.
Liora feels this—or what remains when feeling is no longer clearly attributable.
Because even feeling begins to divide:
feeling as content
feeling as recognition of content
feeling as the instability of both
None of these can be held as primary.
And so the observer—if that word still applies—does not leave.
It disperses into the field it was assumed to be outside of.
Not gone.
Not absent.
Just no longer gathered into a point that could say:
“I am the one who sees.”
And in that absence of gathering—
the water is simply what is occurring.
Not witnessed.
Not un-witnessed.
Just occurring, without the need for a place from which it is held.
Liora remains.
But not as observer.
As one of the ways the field continues to briefly stabilise into recognisability.
And even that word—remains—does not quite hold.
Because nothing is remaining anymore.
Only continuing.
Without a point that can say it is the one that continues it.
No comments:
Post a Comment