Vorcreatex is a vortex of creativity. It is a central point of possibilities where creativeness flows like a natural spring, and where newness and originality arise out of the depths of an oval circle. It is a place: the crossroads of the country, hub city, the circle city, the hole in the donut, and naptown each describe the center of this emptiness, this quiet hoop of activity, and this spinning stillness. Vorcreatex is a place of the clear original mind before thoughts arise and where all things new rest without names as a potential within a ring of nothingness and the infinite halo of the eternal moment.
You can walk around Indianapolis for a long time thinking you’re creatively unstimulated and then suddenly you realize you have the most creative ability possible in this city. — Caller # 17, The Manufactured History of Indianapolis
Beyond the edge of the world there’s a space where emptiness and substance neatly overlap, where past and future form a continuous, endless loop. And, hovering about, there are signs no one has ever read, chords no one has ever heard. — Haruki Murakami, Kafka on the Shore
Stranger 1: In that place there is no air or water, and no busyness or aim; There is no bud or flower, and no fetus or semen; There is no education or Vedas, and no word or taste; There is no body or settlement, and no earth, sky, or space; There is no guru or disciple, and no easy or difficult path.
Stranger 2: Yes, that city is very strange. I cannot explain it. It is an active resting place. It is quiet though asleep, nestled in the middle of the country, it seeks no activity. Most travelers pass through. Some arrive and stay, replenishing themselves, laying open to the flow of manifesting originality. That city is without gunas. What name can one give it?
Hometowner: I call it “Vorcreatex.” — Paraphrased from: The Bijak of Kabir