There is a truth, or a set of truths, I cannot admit to myself because if I truly embody it I will weep uncontrollably. Help, scheduled for three weeks away; agency, extinguished in my own body; swarms of people, passing me by; research and internships slipping past my wide fingers, with each hour. On this hill I feel myself in a greatest, deepest, darkest pit; speech and writing these faculties eternal in which I have found communication and introspection and falter in what I need; I cannot think myself out of an agency deficit; I must act and rely on the momentum, but when action is inconceivable, how can there be any — ?
Friston's free energy principle is dualistic. Inasmuch it is possible for the organism to change their own internal states (their world model) in response to stimuli it is also possible for them to apply enacted action upon the world to change it. Action changes the world when perception cannot and vice versa. Have I been robbed of action, then? If I have been robbed I should point no larger blame than to myself.
I am freewheeling again. What a catastrophe.