Thoughts That Belong on Milk Cartons

To paraphrase a song by The Tokens, my thoughts are like a bird in flight; they circle you and then fly out of sight. For example, earlier today I had a strikingly profound thought, and I commanded myself to remember it so that I could write it here tonight. In lieu of that thought, which has continued its migration to more adhesive minds, I offer you this entry, which is likely far less profound.

I have read of people who practice what is called automatic writing. I refer, not to those individuals who claim to come under the posession of some deceased peron or other exotic spirit, but such people as Rene Magritte who simply tapped into the level of consciousness immediately underlying the surface, and recorded it. I would like to do that. Perhaps the profound thoughts that perch on my synapses briefly throughout the day have simply migrated to the warmer, more interior regions of my consciousness, along with, as Billy Collins observes, the quadratic formula and the names of the muses. If so, then they may be reclaimable afeter all.

I have long thought that the greatest gift one could recieve would be to experience the consciousness of another human firsthand. To actually posess their perspective and board their train of thought. It seems that to live in another's mind like that would be the ultimate consciousness-expanding experience--even if the new perspective was one you thought was only marginally different from your own. Could it be that automatic writing is the key to this sort of experience (And you had thought I completely jumped topics non sequitir, didn't you)? If I could actually transcribe the sequence of my thoughts, which is often a mix of song lyrics, retreaded dialogue, and epiphany, I could then hand it to a potential firend or lover with the caveat, "Read me, and if you think you can handle it, let's hang out."

But then, that's sort of what you're reading now; isn't it?

Giving and Taking from the Universe

"Cast your bread upon the waters and it shall return to you."

Who does this? Bread doesn't float. I think it should read, "Cast your bread upon the waters and it shall become soggy." Surely, the aforementioned Biblical sentiment has persevered in the human hive-mind due, not to its indisputable accuracy, but to its truthful reflection of human experience. Today it occured to me, for instance, that I've been making some serious withdrawals from my account at the First Universal Bank of Accumulated Karma. I've just really needed some profound support from my friends lately. As a result, the universe has been offering me plenty of opportunities to be in service myself. In fact, it's way too pronounced to be coincidental; this week at least four people needed my help with something--things like helping them to move or babysitting. It's as if I've been recieving karmic overdraft notices.

The irritating thing is that it's never the people to whom I most want to give that need my help, the people to whom I am most indebted. I guess the universe doesn't work that way. Instead of hundreds of little accounts payable and recievable ledgers, There just seems to be one, and everytime you help somebody with their term paper an entry is made, and every time you borrow someone else's car, an entry is made in the same book. This works as long as I don't stubbornly cling to an illusion of self-sufficiency.

I shall keep myself posted.

Blogging is kind of like praying.

I find this incredibly liberating, I have to say. I don't know if anyone will ever read this (and I'm fairly certain no one I know personally will), so I'm just doing a verbal dump regarding my day. It's like tying a letter to a balloon and sending it off without ever expecting to think of it again. This is also my current experience of prayer--a letter marked "to whom it may concern" that I shoot off into the universe like a flare. Maybe someone will see it. Maybe not. Either way, I feel better for having composed it.

But enough of this philosophical falderal. You probably want to know about my day, right? Of course you do. Well, I have to say, you know that a friend has your back when they let you borrow their car. Or if you break down on the highway at 2 A.M. and they come pick you up cheerfully. To continue the comparison of this post to a prayer, I would like to say that I'm eminently thankful to have people in my life like Val, Steve, Beth, and Jessie, all of whom have my back. This is new, by the way. I'm totally used to people bailing when the going gets tough.

I must be growing up. Iin fact, it just now feels like I'm leaving adolescence. That may sound juvenile, but I'm sure there are people in your own experience, treasured reader, who are older than I and seem intent to remain adolescent ad infinitum. I read somewhere that the return of Saturn happens for most people (astrologically speaking) around my age, and that it usually brings a profound change in direction. Well, whether Ol' Cronus has anything to do with it or not, a profound change is what I'm experiencing and I welcome it.

I shall keep me posted.

This is more or less what I look like. You like?

My first Blog entry. (cue ominous music)

Well, I don't really know why I'm writing this, but I suppose that's how most of these things start anyway. Most of the things I do aren't that interesting, but most of the things I think while I'm doing them are, so perhaps I'll inadvertently entertain somebody.

I suppose I'll jump right into my life, and if you have any questions I encourage to come up with the answers yourself. For example, if you wonder whether I have any pets, the real answer (no) is less interesting than the answer you might invent for yourself (yes, three lemurs). Please share your fictionalization of my life with me; perhaps I shall adopt it for real.

I have recently graduated from college, and am suffering from a lack of motivation/direction. I don't have a bad life--most things about it don't suck--but my spirit hates me for living small. I stand there at work and think to myself (or aloud), "I am bigger than this." The problem is, I'm good at too many things. I don't say this out of arrogance; I am sure it is consistent with most of your experiences that a person can do nearly anything well if motivated. The problem is drawing the line between doing anything and doing everything. I could, for instance, make a career singing, teaching elementary school, or conducting neurolinguistic research (to name a few of the things that have occurred to me). It is safe to say, however, that I could not successfully pursue all three simultaneously. So I stand at the crossing of infinite paths, and take not a step, for fear of eliminating any possibility.

I shall keep you posted.