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My Beam, My Tower

"There are other worlds than these," Stephen King has Jake say in the first Gunslinger.  Or, at least, that's the phrase I hear when I think about it.  I sometimes believe this to be so, that there are other worlds than these.  Maybe not in a Gunslinger way, nor in a Talisman way, nor even in a Lord of the Rings way.

 

In what way, then?  I don't know, but in this other world I don't grind my teeth, and every pen is as smooth as the one I used to originally write this down.  There's a lightness, but also a sense of urgency.  In this other world, there is a known magic, an accepted sense of wonder, of awe.  Life is simpler, but harder for its simplicity.  There's more color, more sound, more vibrancy.  More of a Pull.

 

In this world, here, I get more of a sense of Push than Pull.  I feel pushed along, usually roughly, rather than pulled gently, though perhaps inexorably.  My mind is calmer when I feel Pulled, than Pushed.

 

I'm pushed to pay The Man, as we all are, and to do the job that helps me to pay The Man, though I'm fortunate to be both Pushed and Pulled at my job.  That's my Beam here, I think.  My job.  The difference I'm told I've made, and continue to make.  That's how I stay on the Beam here; that's my contribution to the Beam, to the Tower that supports us here.  Would the Tower tremble without me doing what I do here?  I like to think so.  Someone recently told me he has done everything he's done because of what I did for him back in the day, maybe nine or ten years ago now.  So maybe there's a Beam that connects us, me to him, and both of us to the Tower here.  It's always nice to think you matter.

 

But there, in that mirror world, I think my writing, my creating, keeps the Beam buzzing.  The Me, there, lives in a somewhat muted contentedness, alone in a wooden shack, with some of the same things there as here.  I write by candlelight and it's always raining outside.  I have a small fireplace in a small hearth, but as it's a small room in a small one- or two-room house, and as I'm warm with my sweater and my shawl anyway, it's all good.

 

Maybe one me also supports the other.  A glimpse of me here to the me there, and vice-versa.  I look out my office door to the Me in the commode mirror, beside the picture of the younger Me in Amistad, and I can see all this.

Comments
7 Comment count
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Lovely

Great writing.

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Lovely

Great writing.

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Thanks, Jane!  That means a

Thanks, Jane!  That means a lot coming from you because your writing is always high quality.  Much appreciated. 

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Wow.  This is awesome. I

Wow.  This is awesome.

I really love this kind of thinking.  It opens up so many possibilities that it's almost like taking an unplanned shortcut in our thought process that we never knew before takes us exactly where we want to go.  

Reminds me of string theory, and the efforts of physicists and mathematicians to explain the 10 dimensions of space.   

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Mental Stream-of-consciousness

Amy, thanks so much for saying so.  I love thinking like that, too.  I rarely have such fantastic flights of mental fancy, so it was cool that a) I had it here, and b) it was concrete enough for me to write about it.  Normally, such stream-of-consciousness thinking is really hard to pin down enough into writing it down well enough so that people understand your thoughts.  Think Ulysses by James Joyce, but, since I was the writer here, without Joyce's genius. 

I really do believe what I wrote, but I wouldn't be able to write it right now, because I'm too self-aware, too streamlined with my thoughts.  At the time I was tired, so my empirical mind wasn't as strong as it usually is.  That was it, though, by the way--I was just tired.  No alcohol or other substances were involved, I swear! 

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I know what you mean about

I know what you mean about the empirical mind.  Also known as "getting in our own way" and "overthinking."  I excel at such endeavors.  

Your reply made me think about my undergraduate Psychology days. Specifically, the work of Charles Tart who has been making stabs at unraveling the mysteries of consciousness (including, altered states of) for many years.  Very eccentric guy in person, but fascinating subject and I really respected his undeterred dedication to an issue which, for years, wasn't considered "true" science.

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Consciousness

Hey, Amy, that's very cool.  I didn't know about Tart--I'll look him up.  I'm hugely interested in psychology, to the point that I minored in that even though I was also double-majoring in philosophy and English.  Julia Cameron writes a lot about it as well.  I think she's extremely overrated, and her "morning pages" are nothing more than opening up the doors of your imagination, mandatorily, every morning.  But she also has relevant things to say about opening up the creative mind and getting out of our own way.  But this is also hoity-toity about "creative."  That word's overused.  I think it's a little Zen, a little bit about relaxing, a little about observing the smaller things, or the same things as usual for you, but in a different way.  Or perhaps with different connections.  Anyway, I'm babbling, but it's all interesting.