The arising of life could only be in the pristine mirror of mind and although we judge life to be extravagant, messy, cruel, as full of errors as wonders, all of this proceeds without staining it in the least. Extraordinary invention there is that seems to be teleological, so that after countless millennia a nervous system begins to develop in insects, a system which doubles and hence symbolises the homeostatic mechanisms within cells, the very process by which life asserted itself; and not that symbolisation is anything new to it but it's now further externalised and this vastly expands the range of possibilities in a context where nothing matters more than creativity. And it leads to eyes and teeth and hearts, and further doublings on itself until the mad investment in the human brain, as if mind had finally stumbled on a way to embody itself, to enter its own creation, and it went for it headlong. But as an attempt at an 'artificial intelligence', at a sort of living God, what a hasty Frankenstein's monster emerged. This mind, our mind, is cobbled together out of bits and pieces of re-purposed control mechanisms, so that it can crudely ape the creative principles of its world. In doubling and further doubling the emergent being discovers itself as subject for which it makes its own myth in which it seems as if primal mind (himself) could be darkened, could muddy itself, could sacrifice itself in order to reemerge, to re-encounter itself after a long and significant journey through separation. He stands on unsteady feet and shouts his threats and cajolings at the pale indifference of the light.