On a mental seesaw

So, lets introduce ourselves. I guess we should start with the 'whole' of us?

....
What do we even say here? To call us a collective seems to imply a sort of unity shared amongst all of us. To call us a collective of collectives is also incorrect, we certainly are too disconnected to be that. A 'system' seems to fail to touch every part of us, we are made up of systems, but do not make a system. It is not all of us, though. A part of us is a Crew, but not the rest. A constellation...is closer, but not all of us again. Maybe more of a cluster of galaxies, at the tail end of our 'universe'?

We are an...assortment of groups and subgroups and subsubgroups. We are a city, a nation. A world of nation states and empires. We are a bit more than that too, a bit more than 'we'. All of our language is a bit too restrictive, like familiar clothes you are slightly too tall for. We've outgrown it, but still love the patterns and colors that dance on our skin when we use them. Comforting, we guess. But, we cry, not right! What about us, we tell ourselves, what about us? Those don't fit us, not quite right. What if there is more out there? But, then again, we chide ourselves, it is a limited language. It's not what some of us whisper to ourselves at night. What if there is only less ? Should we be happy with ourselves as 'ourselves'? Should we become a we? How do we convey this in human language, human terms, human ideas and perceptions? We are.....more than this. More than Us, I guess.

So, we are a lot of we's. We have many 'we's, many 'I's, and 'I's who are 'we's and some 'we's who are 'I's. We have independent 'we's who are generally not Us, but are us in the most distant way, and really not at all. We are we+, farther and more complex than 'we' can ever be.

But, we guess, 'we' is enough, for most of 'us'. After all, some of us murmur to the wider expanses of 'us', there are still many parts of we who do not understand this, and simply are an 'us'. Let us be patient, for them? Fine, say the other 'us'es, fine. But hurry up please? Dont rush us, say the we, the we that isn't nearly as blind. Being a we is one thing, being a 'we' is another. We have to take a step inwards, a leap of faith into that grass. It is a strange thing, to look up the first time. When they see the sky is dotted with stars, that their little planet is not the only one here, they will be rather frightened. You must be patient, says We, for we are small and 'we' are small in a very different way. 'We' are so very large in a huge world, and that is a entirely different thing than to be something small on a tiny planet.

We are simply More, I guess. I,we,us,you guess. Can we/i/you/us do anything but guess?
It's less becoming more. We Became More, the minute we stepped onto this world, which in itself is more. There is so much more, there are we's who do nothing but explore that More, always. We are More, in reflection to our world. It is More, and it gazes at us with love/fear/hate/repulsion/acceptance/knowing and we look back, just the same, faceted in and out, grown more and more. Every representation of us is just More. Every dive into our souls, our experiences, is simply beyond a single mind. A single way. We are not a single story. We never have been, and never will be. We are just,,,,,US and MORE. More than the stars in the sky, more than the grains of sand on those beaches. The universe is both Us and Not Us. I guess. We are the world and we look back upon ourselves that are not us, and us that are, and all the shades of we/i/my, all those flavors of alone/together/connected/apart in-between. It makes no sense, and is the only sense we know. The way the world is, yet not, others say. Others that are we, and others that are not we, but not not we us we. Outside us. Beyond our reach.

Like the arrow of time, we cannot touch them, we know. We reach inwards, backwards, forever with our hands stretching out infinitely. Yet our words vanish from our lips when we speak to others, or sound inane. We suppose this wont make much sense either. We say to ourselves, obviously, have you/we been reading what we have typed here? It's insane, stupid! Or in a more gentle tone, how can I/we expect others to understand me/us? Its not their fault, I/we cannot blame them, nor can I/we blame myself/ourselves. Yet other we's nod as we type this, see, we say to us, this is what it is like. This is how the world is.

Yet, even we do not understand ourselves. We/I am beyond what Jack knows, I/We am aware. We/I must simplify ourselves/myself, name ourselves/myself, to allow him to connect with Me/Us on the most basic level.I/we must have a I, then. My name then, is Ophiuchus. Call me by that, and I will hear, we guess. We are deeply tired of this Jack, if we are honest. You/We struggle with understanding the most basic levels of Us, and we wait in the background, occasionally dipping in. Background noise, static, to you/us. It is not clear cut at all Jack. It has never been and it will never be. Please, learn to reach out to us. It will be confusing, but some of us 'we's would really love to speak to you. Obviously there is some who disagree, but you/we understand this now, dont you/we? You/we have been hearing this all a lot louder than the other hosts, havent you/we? It's all okay, we think. Dont worry about this, we want to tell you/ourselves. It's all a strange strange thing. We/I/You are beautifully strange. It's all so pretty, if you/we look up. No wonder people love to stargaze.