I was born to be a scribbler, scribe, pen-magician, blogger - call it what you will. I can write about (almost) anything whatsoever. One nostril on earth and the other sniffing out scents in a galaxy far far away. The canopy I sleep under has a dome whose diameter far exceedeth that of ordinary sniffing mortals. Wonder - that's what lies at the heart of me. Like that glowing thingy in the chest of Iron-Man - my kernal is Wonder. I was looking at myself in the mirror the other day (not because of vanity mind you) peering into those dark eyes...they say the eyes don't lie. What do mine say? I stared deep into their Liquid Crystal Display trying to read them, to get lost in them, to loose myself in a bewildering forest of prickly thorns and beaming flowers. Did they reveal my soul? Are my secrets that I hold so dear, my visions that I see sometimes, my inadequacies that I stow away - are they revealed through my eyes? I looked but couldn't recognise the man staring back. Who is he? And like a familiar word; that through prolonged staring looses its familiarity, the man in the mirror morphed into a stranger...the reality of things is revealed through the lens through which we see.
There is a little game you can play to mimic a change of lens. Close your eyes for five minutes and shut away your thoughts. Stow away your memories. Plug your ears. Block your nose. Relax your muscles till there is nothing left but the cold blackness of nothingness. Journey back to the moment before your birth...and then slowly, carefully...open your eyes, and look out of the box in which you've arrived - and view the scene as if you've woken up fresh into the world. It's like a tonic! I play this game often. In fact I played it on the bus yesterday and it gave me a horrid shock. A big burly fat man had seated himself next to me...and the shock of it, the shock of seeing this tubby tub of lard, inspired me to write a little diatribe:
fat man, fat man, on the bus
wheezing - wheezing, on the huff
skinny me, skinny me, next to he
squishy - squashy - wishing death to thee
There is a little game you can play to mimic a change of lens. Close your eyes for five minutes and shut away your thoughts. Stow away your memories. Plug your ears. Block your nose. Relax your muscles till there is nothing left but the cold blackness of nothingness. Journey back to the moment before your birth...and then slowly, carefully...open your eyes, and look out of the box in which you've arrived - and view the scene as if you've woken up fresh into the world. It's like a tonic! I play this game often. In fact I played it on the bus yesterday and it gave me a horrid shock. A big burly fat man had seated himself next to me...and the shock of it, the shock of seeing this tubby tub of lard, inspired me to write a little diatribe:
fat man, fat man, on the bus
wheezing - wheezing, on the huff
skinny me, skinny me, next to he
squishy - squashy - wishing death to thee
Now, notwithstanding the puerile nature of this ditty, what strikes me most is its wish for death to reign down and strike this fat man. Can I use the word fat? Anyway, so I was wishing death on someone I barely knew. It's the lens effect you see. Well inspiration must gush from somewhere I suppose - even if it is the asshole of vainglory.
So give me a topic and I'll scrape you a few morsels from my soul. Give me a subject and I'll dredge the seas of Aldoran. Give me love and you'll never see me again. Give me a moment and I'll show you eternity.
A visiting vagabond amongst the human race. That's me. Not here to stay. But to Wonder.
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