Well, well, well. I’m in the middle of a strange state of consciousness and I feel the need to write about it. But will I make any sense? Perhaps not. Perhaps my readers will get together and recruit a few white coats for my front porch pleasure. I guess that would be fine.
My head says that this is something about mathematics. My face screws up in wonderment. Maybe I’ll just go with it and see what operations present themselves.
I’ll start with the number 10. 11 and 12 are close neighbours and suggest incremental progression towards a number of life benefits. I’ll get a little better day by day. But what about 10³? 10 and 3 seem pretty closely related but when you put them together that way, you end up with 1000, which is a quantum leap from 10. And what would my life be like if I leapt quantumly on a regular basis? If I said things that sounded awfully strange to an innocent bystander but made celestial sense to me. Would the world shun me? Possibly.
What would be my purpose in saying strange things? To merely stand out in a crowd or to find connections that up to now had remained dormant in me? It could be that my contribution to life on this planet will be to connect two disparate thoughts in a way that no one has before. That’s worth the possibility of social ridicule.
I wonder what I’m saying. I’m floating in a shifted consciousness and am happily creating word groups that WordPress readers may find deficient. Oh well.
Now I’m flying inside my head. How remarkable. It’s not an exploration of the various forms of earthbound self-transportation (walking, running, skipping, crawling) but a clean break from the general concept, a lifting beyond the bonds of gravity.
Now I’m under a tree, floating free on a swing. The rhythm is intoxicating. Swooping down to the low point and then climbing to a horizon, with time and space ceasing at the moment of stillness, before I plummet back towards the ground.
This conversation is nonsense, I say. I suppose it is, in that I’m currently not in the realm of rationality. My mind is swooping like my swinging, and soaring like a bird into the heavens. But of what use is all this? I don’t know. It’s very different and my fingers on the keys seem to have a mind of their own. I feel the pressure to stop, to cut my losses in the arena of public evaluation, to save my reputation, to return to balance. Yes … I am skewed right now, leaning precariously into the unknown, risking isolation and condemnation. Oh well again.
Now a smile on my lips. “You’re free, Bruce.” Society members will choose their reactions to me – some positive and some negative – and it doesn’t matter. It doesn’t even matter what I think of me. Something almost inexpressible is trying to emerge from my history of Bruceness and maybe I just need to get out of the way.
Something brand new, I do believe … at least in my life.