A LOVE SUPREME: The Tension Between Desire and Transcendence in Sensory Consciousness by Meyte Szita Chan

Journal Entry — Senseware On Ecstasy, Ritual, and the Edge Between Worlds

I began writing this essay about eighteen months ago. At the time, I was moved by subtle inclinations toward Tibetan Buddhism. and an everyday longing for ecstasy.

Nothing grand. Just a whisper. A place I hoped Senseware could begin to touch.

What I sought wasn’t a spectacle, but a metaphysical architecture. A personal language I hadn’t yet fully shaped. I learned, quite thoroughly, through emotional displacement. I channeled overwhelming sensations into vessels.

Forms that could hold the intensity in containers, away from my psyche. It was a slow and sacred distillation.

Over time, I became more tactile in my metaphysical approach. I wanted the unseen to have form. To be woven in flesh. To manifest. I maneuvered well in the absence of my favorite. An absence I didn’t want, but I accepted. I moved forward with love intact.

Desire, once uncontained, began to carve shape. The longing I could not place into the body of a person began forming in the body of a work. It was the grandest re-route. Emotion became line, shape, light. I was tracing my ache into objects. Sculpting the burn. There was ecstasy,not as a peak, but as a slow combustion. A burn through transcendence, while desire made itself visible.

And yet, the origin—its first, soft spark—became distant. In its place: creation. Again and again. Until everything became ritual.

Rituals I had no name for. Pouring water into seven cups. Lighting incense before I knew why. These acts held space. They let me be the observer of myself, and eventually, I crossed a threshold. I ran straight through until the portal opened.

And it did. Slowly.

Energetic shifts came. Residual pain cleared. Emotional residues lifted, layer by layer. And though the process nearly broke me, I began to see it: the form of what I had long been sensing.

From that space, I created the body of work I’m most proud of.

Not because it was beautiful—but because I was.

Because everything I once externalized, I finally brought inward. Because now, I understand Scriabin’s Sonata No. 5. Not as music, but as a state. I understand ecstasy—not as the chase for a high, but as the edge. The inhale before the leap. The trembling point between desire and transcendence.

The space between two worlds.The very threshold where Senseware lives.