RUDIMENTS, pt. 855
(I was annealed)
'Something like a blaze of blue
water' - I think if I had to
characterize what I do, that
could be the words used. As
meaningless as it is difficult,
or maybe obscure, it gets the
point across. I'll try relating
experiences to make it all fit.
-
Much of my time is lived in
a form of dream-time that
answers to nothing; kind of
a spirit-time without place
or body. It's the sort of thing
that manifests itself say, while
driving; 10 or 15 minutes go
by, and I suddenly realize I
have no idea where I just was
for the previous 15 minutes,
what I passed, or how I got
to that location. The physical
aspect is totally unclear, though
my driving was steady and
safe, and well-maintained.
Something else takes over and
does all that stuff, while my
mind is at its own workshop,
working. Very hard to explain,
and I've only used 'driving' as
one easy manifestation of
what I'm explaining. I fully
understand that entire process.
My both minds grasp it, and
carry me through. I first learned
of all this years ago when I
realized how disputatious
others made me. Their concepts
conflicted with everything by
which I'd been living my life
and expectations, but I never
really had to gumption to strike
back or counter. 'Live and let
live,' became in a way my
form of saying, 'Ok then, go
on. What the heck do I care
what you do?' For someone
however, with a sense of
mission, that remained an
unsatisfactory way of
engaging or facing-off the
'other side.' Modern philosophy
will tell you 'there is no other
side, all things have their
equivalency, and people are
free to choose.' I disagree on
that point too - but again, I've
never acted but to scold.
-
It was as if someone 'other' had
stepped into my space, which
space was, really, made of up
things not for them. It was all
a private language and space.
Explanations and examinations
of it failed. We had different
straws, in different drinks.
Period. I think that's why I
always get so irked by any of
those blandishments to unity,
sameness, community, being as
one, and all that communitarian
ethos stuff. Beware of all that,
I say. It takes anything BUT a
village to stand up for oneself
and makes one's own way and
definitions. When that stuff
begins getting pushy, it's usually
for frivolity and because you're
about to get fleeced. For me,
it all began in those seminary
years. I was never distraught,
but I could never quite figure
out what was underway. Why
always the push for niceness,
the sentimental homilies and the
fragrant pleas to God above?
First off, it wasn't even manly,
and I always felt this 'God'
would rather have a man back
at 'Him' than a fleece-mongered,
picked-over weakling. Of either
sex; yes, 'woman, can be strong
and stronger than men, and I
sure saw that. Everything was
all screwed up and my own brain,
even at that age, was on fire.
-
When young I tried to piece
together place and location
and motive and meaning;
bringing it all together, as it
were. When you get born into
one situation, that remains
fairly much all that you ever
see, over and over. You start
making your riddles and your
own answers to it all. The big
cosmic questions, they wait for
later : Why am I here? What are
girls for? What happens after
this? What am I expected to do
now, and or how long? Why
this life, and not another? It's
all enough to cook one's brain.
Every so often there'd be an
older person whose brain had
cracked, went bonkers, blew its
lid. I'd seen them; we used to
have a few walking about
Avenel. That stuff's all gone
now, people get treated. I
don't know where the crazy
old people have gone to,
except, yeah, they're probably
all dead. The whole equation
has changed anyway. Today
the crazies do different things.
Buy Tesla's. Get government
jobs. Stay happy as clerks.
That whole racket is just
'waiting it out.' Once you're
involved in that stuff it's merely
a time-pattern of stall. A big
bore. Somebody finally retires,
and in 10 months later you
hear they're dead. The
cocoon cracked.
-
Much of my dream-time, and
still now, is haunted by that
train-wreck all those years
ago. It was like a reverse
Kryptonite to me; I drew,
and still draw, power from it.
How many other occurrences
do people have where that
happens? I don't know, maybe
it's no big deal. Something
came and got me that day,
and kept me for a goodly
amount of time too, and then,
slowly, I re-entered the pattern
of rectification that makes up
this weird life : objects, time,
patterns, memories, recurrences,
and more. When you're in
3rd grade, and then 4th, and
all that happens to you, you're
still fresh and raw enough to
be able to work with the
re-jiggering of things. All
that I was given back was
completely different from
what been before. I was
tapped back, into other ages,
and led back out to walk
straight through again, all
of it, differently. I was
'annealed.' Coolest word
in the world.
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