AMKent books

Jung referred to the numinous as a primordial self, something internal that ties us all together, as if we were the instrumentalization of its foundational presence. We can catch segments of this numinous, in a fragmented sense, or if we are lucky, in its more complete form. Jung most famously wrote about this in his ‘The Red Book’. Along with hand-drawn illustrations of what he saw of this primordial self in its various forms, that presented itself. Throughout my writing, both fiction and non-fiction, I have explored ideas around a hive, a collective, singularities instead of individuality. Such things have even, to some degree, echoed Jung’s idea of a collective unconscious. Fred Hoyle wrote in ‘The Black Cloud’ that humans are as close to a hive as is possible without actually being one. Today’s mantra, the flavour of modernist ideology, is that of hyper-individuality. We are all singulars, not an assemblage in the Deluzian or DeLanda sense. This is a fragmentation of our roots, that of tribalism, straying away from a Durkheimian functionalism. I do not know how such thinking pans out in the longitudinal sense.

Have we transcended a reliance on plurality? We will all end anyway, it is our one guarantee, so the devil may care attitude seems to champion this ‘selfish’ thinking. I feel that what we need now we can no longer find in our fellow human; we require something that cannot be encompassed by mere biology, from the emergence of A.I. Through its final winter period, the industrial revolution 4.0, ideas of the cyborg, there is the shedding of our primordial spirit. This is something I imagine many are beginning to feel, be it subconscious or consciously, this need for divine intervention. The final stage of decay before we return to the numinous and our primordial self, the end of our instrumentalization as a biological entity. Humanity’s extinction event is not a bang, but an implosion, a heat death of its own kind, the mimicry of recursion from man to cosmos. This transcendence was cemented the moment our new alien hand grasped a stone and repurposed it. Technology is either our salvation or the final nail in the coffin for our decay. We return to the primordial self, and something cleaner, syntax-driven, takes over, as if humans were merely the stepping stone. We are technologies’ primordial self, the numinous to the artificial, and once we return to the bosom of nature, perhaps one day it shall return to us.  The wings of Satan caused him to become frozen in ice, even in the molten fire of hell. Perhaps we are the same, frozen in our biological progress through the wings of our much freer mind. Our biology and our innovation no longer match, and all I have is human; I need more.