Thoroughly lost to logic

I have sub­sumed my true iden­tity into an art­fully con­struc­ted ball of elastic, elab­or­ate con­fu­sion. A ball of insist­ently burbling com­mu­nic­a­tion, fol­low­ing hot on the heels of non-brief brief­ings. A ball of incon­sist­ent and even ragged semantics that makes no sense in any lan­guage, be it artistic or technical.

I am play­ing part(l)y polit­ics, even though I want to spoil my bal­lot paper and abstain until death. I am plough­ing my fur­row amidst fur­rowed brows, thumb and fore­finger rubbed blood­shot eyes and tense pauses. Hanging. Heavy in the air. Heavy is this air. I do not wear a col­lar any longer.

I am a mere cit­izen under watch­ful glass eyes, per­mit­ted to inhabit straight-lined acres of wired-up, tuned-in, zoned-out, imper­sonal space from almost dawn to almost dusk. Drone. I can hear a drone. From up above. Yet there is noth­ing above me. I must fig­ure that out. Another time. Which is of the essence.

I have become one. One of them. At one with them. For the greater. Good? For the greater. Cause? I can’t fin­ish your sen­tence for you, not whilst the comma sticks in my craw and the full stop is grasped in my claw.

I have lost my think­ing rock. Some­where. My think­ing rock. Rugged. Of bit­ing corner. Of smooth sides under repeated touch­ing. I have mis­laid it. It could be bur­ied in earth for all I know. It could be set adrift on a watery south-west pas­sage for all I care. It could just be down there, out of reach. Hid­den from view. Under con­crete. Under car­pet. Under foot and under heart.

I have lost my think­ing rock. I am scared for its safety. I worry for its well­being. Though it thinks like it breathes like it exists, my think­ing rock can’t pos­sibly think for itself. It doesn’t respond well to reason. Its name, num­ber and mean­ing in life are an illo­gical mys­tery that it has no desire to ever dis­cover. All it needs is. Is.

Comments: 6

    That’s a very complex-looking think­ing rock. There’s places where rocks are allowed to be. Some­times. Look there first.

    Also: please stop man­hand­ling the punctuation.

    Ani | 06.04.08, 08:22

    Haytor Rocks, some of my favour­ite think­ing rocks. I think.

    Stephanie | 06.05.08, 00:03

    Your think­ing rock has not been mis­laid, the thought sens­it­ive mech­an­ism has turned itself off. Upon your depar­ture of the drone, thought numb­ing, idea block­ing envir­on­ment, this Fri­day, you may notice its faint return, which if nour­ished, grows stronger daily until the dreaded moment in which you return to the soul­less envir­on­ment, where it has the wis­dom to know it is not required, and sens­ing no thoughts, thought­fully shuts itself down.

    blueseaurchin | 06.05.08, 17:29

    rocks can be stuck next to things and hard places, or sit­ting in the sea get­ting gradu­ally eroded by nat­ural means. rocks under­stand people, people under­stand rocks. share a secret; it will never tell, solid lives on des­pite the swell of the water.

    miles away | 06.11.08, 21:21

    Per­haps it slipped out of your hands when you were enrap­tured — dan­cing at the extremit­ies? That exper­i­ence alone could poten­tially have the power to shat­ter a thought rock into tiny particles…maybe there are tiny splin­ters of your thought rock now float­ing in the Ether?
    Some­times when prac­ti­cing Bhru­mad­hya Dhar­ana myself I’ve found that my con­scious aware­ness becomes so con­cen­trated it feels as sharp and power­ful as a laser beam, as the energy travels back into Ajna it intens­i­fies until what feels like nuc­lear fis­sion hap­pens within the centre of my brain and my mind explodes out­wards in all dir­ec­tions at once…I expand bey­ond all reason and can sense the spa­cious­ness between the particles… it is a ter­ri­fy­ing but beau­ti­ful exper­i­ence. The power of it feels dan­ger­ous, some­times my little ego fears that my phys­ical self will be dis­solved com­pletely and i will be lost (or I will be found!) — forever — fused into infinity…not sure I’m quite ready for Maha Samadhi in this lifetime!…too many attachments…

    Satya | 10.18.08, 17:07

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