Unity is a missing part, it has to be fabricated and added to the rest. The idea comes from "Anti- Oedipus".
Deleuze is considered a philosopher of multiplicity and immanence, concepts usually contrasted to unity and transcendence. However, if we look for transcendence on the plane of immanence, as something outside of consciousness, but still belonging to a human being, it is probably the unconscious. If we abstract from individuals, then it's the collective unconscious as an enormous reservoir of memory of mankind, connecting us to nature and expressing itself through myths, the motives of which are similar across time and space, perpetuating the same code.
There is an emptiness in nature. I am not referring to Hegel or sublimity of nature, but to what causes the eternal return, why repetition is repetition with a difference, or how dialectics of existence blocks concepts, theoretically designed to produce returns of the same or loops of general particularities. Deleuze, discussing singularities and how they disobey the rules of the general, points at some mysterious verticality in nature, the laws of which are superior. This verticality, obviously transcendent, is like an axis in the middle of a black hole, in proximity of which behaviours deviate.It is responsible for difference in repetition. Repetition itself expresses universality in singularity.
This emptiness was called primal the fifth element, aether or quintessence by the ancients. It is unity that we are missing and trying to find, contemplating phenomena and numbers, and it is strongly suggested by stages of embryo development coinciding with steps of Darwin's ladder and the Chain of Being, patterns everywhere following the golden section etc. So we can conclude that multiplicity affirms unity, in the same way that becoming affirms being. However, as empty or a missing vital part, it can only be fabricated (this introduces an artist as a magician) and added to the partials to complete the whole that extends itself, is animated with life, breathes.
Disjunctive synthesis is another paradox of the same kind. I remember a scene in a Bertolucci film, I think it was "The tragedy of a ridiculous man", where one of the characters, working at the cheese factory, is literally assisting the flows of coagulated mass to be cut into and dropped down as separate cheeses.Initially they were liquid- milk, the living matter. Cheese was the owner's gold, made capital, the flow and consummation of which was crucial in the film. The son was gone, but he was back. Magical 9, he lived! In the picture below (it has nothing to do with the film), the sum is always 9:
4+5, 3+6, 2+7, 1+8, 0+9, -1+ 10 (horse shoe counting)
Production, consumption,consummation was like a desiring machine coupled with a body without organs. Work often looks repulsive, but it brings money. I don't mean we can't survive without ( not discussing lack as the basis of desire, neither is missing that unity as emptiness a lack, but rather a yearning), it's just that production has to go on in one way or another and the products are consumed all the time. I really don't like pragmatists very much- they use and are being used, why can't we do things out of this yearning and simply to keep moving? Sometimes it's looping (habits, automated responses and ways of production), but it can become moving, if we discover potentialities of emptiness. The path to it lies through ego destruction, as only ego-less body without organs can make itself fluid and indifferent, plastic enough for becomings. An ego will always speak in terms of lack, envy, possessiveness. Indifference here is not a cancellation of passion, but will to power, the way it is understood by Nietzsche.
The second synthesis, connected with the past or the virtual, leads to the third-beautiful stasis of cruelty and bliss, opening to future. Virtual as an undifferentiated flow of forces, that take shape and start making sense (becoming structured and thus coherent) after breaking into parts and then reuniting.
My understanding of Deleuze is far from perfect, but here is my advice (to myself to start with): move your Plato to your heart and live your ideals of harmony, (don't forget Aristotle, he provides tools), grasp the now- that ever escaping present- and never let it go, stay open and keep loving your life.
I round up with a beautiful poem (in Swedish) by Bruno K. Öijer- "Tätt Intill" from "Svart Som Silver".
SSS, try to decode it! Everything is expressed there and so much better.
dom viktiga åren
och hela mitt förflutna
verkar så avlägset
men ligger ändå nära tätt intill
håller armen om mej när jag sover
och får allt tungt och värdelöst
att släppa taget
lossa sitt grepp om mej
en natt som den här är jag fri
fri att tänka mej hur långt bort som helst
och varför ljuga
jag väger mindre och mindre
svävar nästan till över marken
glider undan från tillvaron
som om jag
brutit en fjäder ur den dödas dräkt
hållit den länge i handen
och lärt mej använda den
lärt mej till slut vad allt gåt ut på