"I'm as trite and as gay as the Daisy in May,
A cliche' coming true,
I'm bromidic and bright,
As a moon-happy night,
Pourin' light on the dew."
So, Trials have passed and I have a free Friday, followed by the weekend. Tom's party too... and with a sigh of relief I feel slightly more human than I did this morning. My brain decided to be a jerk today and freak me out by giving me sudden feelings of vertigo. I think it had to do with my mind ticking over those horrible questions. Not horrible as in disgusting, just unwanted. I kept thinking over the whole "what is, or who is, my mind?" thing. There was a time where there was no me and there will be another time without me. Who am I personally, my inner me? How can I be there then cease to be there? At what moment did 'I' exsist? Upon birth or was my consciousness built as I grew and learned how to operate myself... ?
As a kid, the only two thoughts that would stop me in my tracks were that, coupled with "What is the meaning of life?" and the lustre of the Meaning of Life wore off eventually. It didn't seem that big a mystery and it's probably the only thing I don't whole-heartedly try to justify now-a-days. Life is just there, it's the play ground for the questions, not a question itself. Still, the essence of a person. Gah! It pisses me off. I always used to get the same thought when this wandered into my brain... my body is just a heap of meat, juice and hair and by itself - useless. My mind feels like a prisoner and I'm stuck in this body. Now, I don't hate this body but I hate the limits. I would hate the limits of any body. I feel like I'm in the prison, serving my time, but as the prison ages there's no way out and when it finally collapses I'll be buried in it. There's no way out, when this body goes out, my mind follows... and everything that was ever considered Ryan John Hodgkinson is dead. It's not my body rotting that I fear... most people go after beautiful, expensive coffins but I would like to be buried in a tin lunchbox after cremation. It's the mind! My body will be recycled, turned to muck, fed into the soil, my nutrients will bare flowers and every particle in my body will become some new form of life. But my mind is gone - forever. All the little electric impulses and reactions are not even dust, not even an echo. That's the part I hate. Being the pilot in an unreliable vessel.
Allow me to clarify, I don't like the idea of immortality any more than I do the idea of mortality. There should be nothing like either. I don't have a new system of existance to nominate but I'm not expected to. It's not the brain, but the mind... and the mind is a captain going down with his ship, from birth... not lifeboats or anchors... full steam into foggy future, alone.
Just a note; this picture is the closest thing to God I have ever seen. It's a street light.
I love how It seems to have limbs, an eye and completely laden in life... yet it was constructed by men I will never meet to keep the microwave ovens running. I saw in and felt I needed to photograph it... I've walked past It thousands of times and It's never caught my eye like that day. All of that is irrelevant. What is relevant is that I am now relaxed and happy and I won't be scaring myself with thoughts of death... or Godly street lights. I'm at peace already.