The Rhizome that is my 3AM Thoughts

Deleuze and Guattari distinguish between the Rhizome and the Tree. The Tree relies on a root; it claims a center. It enforces hierarchy. The Rhizome is grass. It connects any point to any other point. It has no beginning or end, only a middle from which it expands.

I examine my journal (the Braindump) and the structure is undeniably rhizomatic.

"Entry $#&: desire for money." "Entry %*$: mandalas." "Entry *$#: aversion to messiness." "Entry $%&: the impossibility of silence."

There is no "Central Me" governing this system. The belief in a "true self" (a root) is an artifact of an outdated psychology.

The dissonance I feel comes from comparing myself to the Tree. I desire solidity. I desire to be an Oak. But the reality is that I am crabgrass (in the tongue of my forefathers: isang masamang damo).

Deleuze validates this architecture. "A concept is a brick" he states. It is a tool for construction or demolition. You can build a house or throw it through a window.

I have attempted to build a courthouse of reason in my mind to prosecute my "flawed" thoughts. But the rhizome ignores the walls. The financial anxiety connects to the memory of the father, which connects to the fear of the "insecure man" on the bus. This loops back to connects to the concept of the underground phallus.

It is all connected. It is messy. It is the authentic state of the subject.

I will cease the excavation for a root that does not exist. The task is to map the connections. Cartography not archaeology is my task. I do not need to dig for a hidden truth; I need to map the terrain that is already present.