My footsteps stretch far behind into simultaneous moments of memory and influence. Each impression of ball and five toes, rubber sole or booted heel, is a point of spin, a line of motion and angular warping.

It's easy to look into the past and tease out the cause/effect/cause/effect/cause again. You can follow this binary tree quite a distance before interaction with other footsteps blurs the causal boundaries of I and Us. The past is cake.

Ascertaining the patterns created by future footsteps is a different proposition. It's not an impossible problem, but requires a toolset like yet unlike the understanding of fossils and fallen empires. The past seems set, only alterable as a concept, as a present interpretation. It's closer to writing a review than creating. To create you must work from your accumulated concept of yourself as your past. Here's where it gets tricky: each thought confining/refining your concept of the past adds further steps to your progression. Every stride you take into the future becomes the past and changes the pattern you are attempting to understand and work from.

It's the classic artist's conundrum.

How can you step back from the piece, when you are the piece itself?

You are the foot being placed on rock as another foot rises.

You are the wash of ink as the stroke goes down on paper.

You are the vibrating oscillation of changing waveforms.

You are the breathing diagram of actions in motion.

You are the living pattern of your world.

We don't often think of ourselves as collections of continuing forces, whirlwinds of cause and effect. Attempting prophecy is to understand yourself as you are structured right now, and how that diagram will recontextualize in the future.

There are no mistakes, only doings and learnings. There are no right or wrong steps, only motion.

The past and future seem like two faces of an endless present.

Why play prophet when you can simply make?

I wonder as I find eye contact with strangers, as I stop to speak with friends of friends, as I spin sound and vision and time like threads of glass, where I'm walking. What territory will my path cover, what will my context be... whose areas of influence and dominion will I intersect with, and what will happen when I do?

Our patterns are intertwining this exact moment, as I write, as you read.