The mind consulting the mind:<\/p>\n
I was tempted to call you a freak of nature, but now I’m not so sure. The one contemplating you is the very same object of scrutiny. The divide is artifical, for I can take a step back and seemingly look at you from the outside, yet this phony metaplane only allows me to reflect upon my own from within. The mind recognizing itself, pretending to detach; one of the mind’s many tricks. So this is at most a little tango or a slow dance on the gym floor, in a hidden den, in the grandeur of a ballroom, where one seeks the other in close proximity.<\/p>\n
You have been well trained over the past decades. Trained to always be attentive, to think it through, to think before you speak or act, to think twice. Socialization and education conditioned you to be able to predict, reflect, assess, take on the perspective of an other, learn from experience, inhibit action and surpress emotion. You have literally become a mastermind and as such paved the road to degrees, careers, riches and a place in society. Maybe you are a means to survival in this odd species‘ evolution.<\/p>\n
You have built-in mechanisms that keep you from disconnecting, trickery to the extent of deceiving yourself. You feign to shut off, if necessary you urge the body to fall asleep, whereby you, I have discovered, merely change the channel and continue to broadcast in another dimension. I have figured you, or me, or whatever any of this folly is, out, and receive every new twist of your craftiness with a yawn.<\/p>\n
Are you trying to outsmart yourself? Don’t be ridiculous. Fighting you is witless, nothing short of half-baked, attempting to cast aside one’s own shadow – come on! I can well imagine insanity being the outcome. Thus I came to wonder and learn, what you are so afraid of: part of me has argued that you are a primitive machine, programmed to execute the above, simultaneously fearing the unknown, fearing that you could perish into nothingness should you be quieted. In this habitual pattern, I suspect, lies a link to our breeds permanent, subconscious fear of death, thriving on terrifying fantasies about the unknown. Maybe it is you, that has been fooled all along in your own limited argumentation that the mysteries surrounding us must pose a threat.<\/p>\n
I conjured time and time again strategies to still you, and was always met with the dilemma of the same chessplayer playing both sides. I cannot blame the babe for having delivered the secret. This I too understand.<\/p>\n
Hush, my twiddling partner, it appears we are inseperable, as well as sometimes dull, often predictable and perfectly incapable of grasping anything of importance. This chatter has me gazing at the stars. Can’t we just enjoy the dance? Grant a loving embrace of insignificance, with a head-titled-smile, absentmindedly smudge the little pencil drawn circles of human acts, unsubstantial. Letting go is now a voiceless shuffle to the right, a choreography of hearts pumping in unison with orbits of laughter traced onto each others faces, whispers blown inside of balloons, ascending quickly, touching the sky from yonder – the world has become so small.<\/p>\n
I has left the room, mind has put up its feet, the battle has ended. Freedom, the enlighted universe beams; never left. I shall now call it accepdance – surrender to silence. Nothing to loose in losing your mind. Now breathe.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
The mind consulting the mind: I was tempted to call you a freak of nature, but now I’m not so sure. The one contemplating you is the very same object of scrutiny. The divide is artifical, for I can take a step back and seemingly look at you from the outside, yet this phony metaplane only allows me to reflect upon my own from within. The mind recognizing itself, pretending to detach; one of the mind’s many tricks. So this is at most a little tango or a slow dance on the gym floor, in a hidden den, in the grandeur of a ballroom, where one seeks the other in … hold your breath<\/span> weiterlesen