I woke up with the urge to write about structure. I have no idea if I had a dream that pushed me into it. I haven’t been able to remember my dreams for a while now. What I do know is that I haven’t been sleeping well lately.

I wake up feeling like I ran a marathon. My watch rates my sleep, but the feeling doesn’t match the data. I thought it could have been related to the stress of having to perform with an injured FHL, the fear of going into a saut-de-chat and snapping my tendon at the landing. It could be that all of these imminent changes are forcing my brain to lock into architect mode and make me feel like I am dying a slow death.

Architects breathe structure. The Code book, life safety, the health and welfare of the public. It gives me anxiety to think about the consequences of a mistake, but at the same time is that very structure that makes the job possible. You learn to internalize it and be justified in it.

Nonetheless, structures feel heavy. They permeate our everyday disguised as systems claiming it is for our benefit. Cultural rules, religious rules, family rules. You get inside a digital platform (CMS – look up the irony) to write and it automatically pressures you to write in a certain way: SEO. What is your cornerstone content, your focus keyword, your meta description length, the content length. Do you have internal and external links? Your title is too short. Images, videos, paragraph length, sentences, passive voice, transition words, consecutive sentences, subheading distribution, and finally, Flesch reading ease. Feeling suffocated yet?

Structures are heavy. But in a rudimentary low-entropy kind of way it allow us to experience life at this very moment as a form of exchange. We can feel a warm touch, a kiss, a bear hug, or listen to music rather than white noise. We read and try to organize thoughts and ideas. What would happen if there was no structure at all?

I guess time itself would become meaningless, leaving us with the eternal now. The measure of disorder would be a void of wholeness. Let that sink in.

In my expansion of consciousness journey, I keep caring less and less about how things should be done. I focus on how it makes me feel deep in my core. Does it make me happy to throw these words into the world of 0s and 1s knowing absolutely no one reads or cares? The feedback is a resounding, yes. Does it make me happy to dance ballet even if my body is cursing me out? Yes. Does it make me happy to design spaces so that people can live better or just have a nice human experience? Yes. Does it make me happy to learn a new language however backwards it may sound and I might never use it? Yes.

What if that is the ultimate goal? To allow ourselves to melt any rigid framework and become more in tune with cosmic dust?

What if structure is a temporary scaffolding? We need it to grow, to learn, and to stabilize ourselves as human beings. But the ultimate destiny of consciousness is to outgrow the scaffolding and step into the open air.