It’s one of those evenings. Feels as if the world is spinning out of control. I wonder what control we seek and what is this world that seems to be in such danger. Around me, in “reality”, all is as it should be. Or so it seems.
What if nothing is the way we think it is? what if we are just creating a fantasy, each our own, and what we see touch taste hear smell are just in our imagination? What if it doesn’t really exist?
Instinctively, I notice, I have used the word “think”. Is that the glitch? Are we all thinking too much? And not feeling enough? Is that somewhere in some way alienating us? Even destroying us. imperceptibly, gradually, inevitably?
I write. And here you’ll find enough evidence of that. From ads to stories to poems to essays on this and that, all kinds of things take me to my thoughts and then the keyboard. Like most of us, I have good and bad days, usual and unusual moods, sometimes I feel a bit dead, Sometimes strangely alive. And some evenings I have this feeling.
I thought, it might be good to state it. Put it out there. Let this feeling have its place. Acknowledge it.
I wonder at times if this state of mind that seems to soak right into you, make restless every cell, tuck a tornado neatly within your frame, existed in the beginning. Wherever that was. If we have always had the ability to feel this way. Or is it a later development, as emotions evolved and we found newer and more subtle feelings and more and more place within us that could be infiltrated, affected?
It’s a noisy world these days. A quiet silent feeling hardly gets heard. In fact, it rarely gets any time to be felt. Mention you’re feeling a bit strange or down… you grope for words for you don’t know how to give it material dimension, find words for it… ironically, it has more dimension than practically anything else at that point, and yet…
Yeah, just sort of say that you are in that frame of mind, and instantly you’ll be exhorted to get over it. Fight it. Overcome… all is well. You mustn’t feel this way. Ah, such hurry to rush away from it.
The inexplicable. Why don’t we have any time for it any more? Does it scare us? Where is our curiosity? There is a “right” way to be all the time, without pause, without relenting, ad nauseam.
But this feeling is really precious. For it is not yet understood, nor categorised, not a sealed and shut case. It makes me ache, it makes me fray, it makes me want to catch it and ask it, Who are you, where do you come from? I hear it smile. This is one of your powers, it says… Evolution, the making of life, has to come to a certain point before this can be felt. Don’t rush away from it, fear it if you must, but stay, see where it takes you.
Shh, don’t make any noise, just feel…
It is perhaps from these sort of states of mind that our most wondrous stories, our myths and mythologies come.
Maybe I should give this feeling a name. What if i called it…
………………………….
