The Infinite Multiplicity: Memory of Light Series 07
We are not one self, but many — layered, echoed, continuous
We were never meant to be singular.
Not in memory.
Not in identity.
Not in becoming.
In this image, the self does not appear once, but many times — not duplicated, not fragmented, but echoed.
Each version is familiar.
Each is distinct.
Each carries a different inflection of the same essence.
This is the infinite multiplicity: the quiet truth that we are made not of one self, but of many selves layered across time.
We often speak of “finding ourselves,” as though the self were a single object misplaced somewhere along the way. But lived experience tells a different story. We are accumulations. Palimpsests. Overwritten and rewritten by love, loss, survival, joy, rupture, return.
Every version of you that has ever existed still exists — not as memory alone, but as imprint.
The child who first felt wonder.
The self who endured what seemed unbearable.
The version who survived, adapted, transformed.
The one still forming.
They do not cancel each other out.
They coexist.
After profound thresholds — illness, grief, rebirth, survival — this multiplicity becomes impossible to ignore. You feel the selves gathering at the edges of awareness, not demanding resolution, but recognition. They want to be seen as part of a whole, not edited out for the sake of coherence.
This image is not about repetition.
It is about continuity.
Each figure is a turn of the wheel, a rotation of the same consciousness looking at itself from a slightly altered angle. Time becomes a circular room rather than a corridor. Identity becomes a constellation rather than a point.
To accept the infinite multiplicity is to stop asking Which version of me is the real one?
And instead ask:
How do these versions speak to one another?
What do they know that I do not yet hear?
Wholeness, it turns out, is not unity.
It is harmony.
A Question for You
Which version of yourself still walks beside you — quietly, persistently, asking to be acknowledged?
Not to return.
Not to be corrected.
Simply to be included.
If you feel called, share who that version is.
There is room for them here.
Closing
Thank you for standing with me in this widening field of selfhood.
:: Rand
Thank you, Rand. This is perfectly perfect