The Architect of Remembrance: Threshold Version

The dweller of a city may one day wonder: “Why does my city work so poorly? What can I do about it?” My function as Architect of Remembrance is to agree that the city has, indeed, been degraded; to help the city dweller coming out of hypnosis to remember their function in the original city, if they choose; and to help restitch the forgotten strands of the original blueprint with the lessons of having survived the current city-in-shambles. The resulting fabric is the living architecture of the new city.

This new city is not utopic. It is neither separatist nor escapist. New-city dwellers still have emotions and desires. However, the new city does not hinge on the wide-scale hypnosis that generates so much agony in the current city-in-shambles. For the new-city dweller, to have remembered original function is to have found joy; even when difficult, the new-city dweller’s true function is not yet another job, “brand,” or personality.

Many city-dwellers feel that something is missing or off-kilter but still want to play in the current city-in-shambles. Most have chosen to remain veiled for a variety of reasons. For instance, many souls choose to learn from society collapse at some point in their eternal trajectory. (Reincarnation is much more complicated than most people currently understand but the notion that a human is merely animated mortal flesh is a materialist fantasy.) Most of their daily acts and thoughts are scripted roles with predetermined lines of dialogue, potential actions, and daily rituals in which they enlist others playacting on the same stage: the tech bro who runs at 5AM and follows a Keto diet; the administrator who schedules meetings “that could have been an email”; the dissociated toddler mom committed to “gentle parenting” through gritted teeth; the social media activist compulsively asking everyone: “can you believe the news?”; the adult in an abusive ancestral loop-vine who attends family holiday dinners to keep everyone’s peace except his own; the lightworkers and starseeds prejudiced towards a blond-and-beige aesthetic; and so on. (Consider this list an irreverent invitation to reflect. I also looped in various scripts before I was jolted out of the spell.)

Some of these looping city-dwellers may read this and laugh dismissively or “feel personally attacked,” only to wake up at 3AM decades from now wondering: “Wait a minute, what is actually happening?” Others may not fully remember for 100 more lifetimes. Every path is sacred, but one path is an acceleration out of karmic loops.