The Psychic Reef
I was first going to do a post about how I can't relate to wanting to be a person. It seems like all I really care about is the creative and the universal, but nothing in between. Of course I enjoy and loathe and enjoy loathing the regular everyday experiences - talking about other people, eating food, etc but only to the extent that I'm obligated to do so. Food, sex, and comfort drives are physiological obligations that conspire with social drives of freedom from poverty, humiliation, abandonment, etc. None of them are particularly interesting to me.
I've always felt like an outsider even among outsiders, if for no other reason than I want to be excluded. I don't want to play games that I don't want to play. I'm not even especially interested in being a spectator to what people are doing (again, physiological and social obligations notwithstanding). I'm only really interested in what I want to be interested in but I, like everyone else, don't have much time in my day to explore those areas because of the burden of having to pretend to care about everything else that is supposedly going on.
It may be selfish to the extreme, although I definitely am interested in other people, it's just that they too seem to be chained to a life that keeps stuffing them full of what they've already got and leaves them starving for everything else. It's tragic and the tragedy is tragic and the boredom of the tragedy is boring and the boredom of the boredom is boring and tragic. So much potential...so much greatness locked up in these amazing identities...all packed together like sardines forever, talking to each other about food and exercise and money and sports and politics.
Waking up in the middle of the night just now I was noticing how thoughts first come from otherwhere in our minds. My mind thinks of things - jokes, comments, images, rhymes, all kinds of things that 'I' would have never thought of. It's not like a separate schizophrenic voice or anything (thankfully), it's just the ordinary goings on of the mind that make me realize (again) that our brain and our Self is much larger than the mind we are aware of, which is really sort of a prep table for the psyche...a desktop through which we access the vast internet of our unpresented inner cosmos.
Maybe the mind (not the brain) is like the body, which is host to billions (trillions?) of microorganisms and proto-organic residues all swarming in an incomprehensible ecology which could never have been conceived of by pre-scientific minds. Can you imagine 'The Kingdom of Thy Body is unto a vessel of invisible multitudes of tiny beasts which feed upon thy flesh continuously. Take unto thy stomach pills of cholesterol reduction such that the waxy stain of many slaughtered lambs and fatted calfs doth not accumulate in thine coronary arteries and forsake thy heart for thirsting of it's own blood.'
In this way, I believe that it is entirely likely, that the body reflects the mind in the sense that it could very well host countless other entities which we will never be aware of directly but which nonetheless have effects which can add to our understanding. Such entities don't have to be like ghosts or voices or anything (but human culture does seem to dwell on that idea at this time of year), more likely I would guess they are infra and ultra-conscious patterns, dynamic instinctive-intuitive-archetypal-gestural ideofauna and aionflora - a coral reef like ecology which handle packet switching and address resolution between ideas and people, destinies and history as an unintended consequence of their own endeavors. Who knows whose files are stored in our brains and for what reason? What forgotten YouTubes of our past memories are being enjoyed throughout the ranks of the 18-25,000 year olds as they surf the metaterrestrial net?
I've always felt like an outsider even among outsiders, if for no other reason than I want to be excluded. I don't want to play games that I don't want to play. I'm not even especially interested in being a spectator to what people are doing (again, physiological and social obligations notwithstanding). I'm only really interested in what I want to be interested in but I, like everyone else, don't have much time in my day to explore those areas because of the burden of having to pretend to care about everything else that is supposedly going on.
It may be selfish to the extreme, although I definitely am interested in other people, it's just that they too seem to be chained to a life that keeps stuffing them full of what they've already got and leaves them starving for everything else. It's tragic and the tragedy is tragic and the boredom of the tragedy is boring and the boredom of the boredom is boring and tragic. So much potential...so much greatness locked up in these amazing identities...all packed together like sardines forever, talking to each other about food and exercise and money and sports and politics.
Waking up in the middle of the night just now I was noticing how thoughts first come from otherwhere in our minds. My mind thinks of things - jokes, comments, images, rhymes, all kinds of things that 'I' would have never thought of. It's not like a separate schizophrenic voice or anything (thankfully), it's just the ordinary goings on of the mind that make me realize (again) that our brain and our Self is much larger than the mind we are aware of, which is really sort of a prep table for the psyche...a desktop through which we access the vast internet of our unpresented inner cosmos.
Maybe the mind (not the brain) is like the body, which is host to billions (trillions?) of microorganisms and proto-organic residues all swarming in an incomprehensible ecology which could never have been conceived of by pre-scientific minds. Can you imagine 'The Kingdom of Thy Body is unto a vessel of invisible multitudes of tiny beasts which feed upon thy flesh continuously. Take unto thy stomach pills of cholesterol reduction such that the waxy stain of many slaughtered lambs and fatted calfs doth not accumulate in thine coronary arteries and forsake thy heart for thirsting of it's own blood.'
In this way, I believe that it is entirely likely, that the body reflects the mind in the sense that it could very well host countless other entities which we will never be aware of directly but which nonetheless have effects which can add to our understanding. Such entities don't have to be like ghosts or voices or anything (but human culture does seem to dwell on that idea at this time of year), more likely I would guess they are infra and ultra-conscious patterns, dynamic instinctive-intuitive-archetypal-gestural ideofauna and aionflora - a coral reef like ecology which handle packet switching and address resolution between ideas and people, destinies and history as an unintended consequence of their own endeavors. Who knows whose files are stored in our brains and for what reason? What forgotten YouTubes of our past memories are being enjoyed throughout the ranks of the 18-25,000 year olds as they surf the metaterrestrial net?