In a blink-and-you-might have missed it post, I may have mentioned that I’m doing physical therapy due to a knee injury caused by an unknown chronic injury.
The work’s being done by Tess McGinley at Spiral Path Movement and oh, how it’s making a difference (more on that next week). As part of the PT, Tess will sometimes toss ‘homework assignments’ my way.
Things like, get up off the computer every ten minutes (I stretched that to 20-30. Sorry!) or do X number of squats or go for a walk. The one she gave me a couple of days ago was simple: find 10 minutes to just be you. No electronics, media, driving, napping. Just. Be. You.
I couldn’t find ten minutes.
So today, I’m laying down for a nap and decide I’m not quite sleepy yet, so I spent 10 minutes to check my integrity. What is it like to be me?
There is a center to -I- but it is not a circle; it deforms and mushes and grows and contracts as it is carried by the Flow. Attached to it are tiny threads, connecting the center -I- to strangely shaped spheres and blobs.
Memories. Those are memories. The threads are what connects them to the core -I- but the Flow also distorts them, refines them, grows and contracts them. The threads are not threads but smaller flows that consistently feed them.
I want to look for Death. I have a connection I want to explore. So I turn and the pink-quartz colored clouds around me shift to a dark silver shimmer. I cannot control my position in the Flow, only my orientation.
This is why people get scared. The Flow is not a three-dimensional structure. If you alter your orientation, it will appear that your entire world is folding to black. It isn’t. It’s just what you’re currently looking at.
I return to looking at myself. Everything is flow within the Flow. Two different meta-universes and we are the expanse that is between them. Our entire universe fits in the intersection of hyper-dimensional lattices.
Two places. Here and there. And because there is here and there and they are in two different places, everything else can exists. Everything.
I can see it all so clearly. It’s humbling. It’s beautiful. It’s strange. I play around with my memories and the threads that connect. Practice my orientation.
Then, finally, I let myself drift off to sleep.