“Sometimes I just need to remember what it is like to feel alive. Long enough to understand how I got here in the first place. There was a time when I thought I knew it all, had it all, wanted for nothing. Then all of a sudden it was gone, taken away by a force that washed me away like a flood of memories, powerful unforgiving, yet familiar enough for me to want to ride that wave, and keep on going cresting above and beyond the world that I had become so entrenched in. I wanted to feel what it was like to be somewhere so far and so different that my life could no longer feel the same. I wanted to see where the torrent was taking me.
I settled in a distant gap between sleep and waking, unaware of how long or how far I had come or been away from all that was familiar. I wasn’t confused just indifferent, full of something I had never before experienced. Inner peace. I think that’s what it was. In this place I could truly contemplate what had meant the most to me, but I could no longer pinpoint the origin of this desire. I couldn’t see from which direction these thoughts had hailed. I found names and faces, places, memories tastes, sensations coming to me from places that I knew but could no longer recognise. I didn’t need to recognise them, just acknowledge them for the experiences that they were. I was afloat on a current of energies that bore me adrift to distant shores, so far removed from me. But what was I now? What did I feel that was Mine anymore? My focus would change and fluctuate like the shape-shifting clouds that once travelled and decorated a sky that I had vague recollection of. My reach was infinite it seemed. All I had to do was think about something, in fact not even think, just be and images would come to me. I’d look at them, watching how they transformed and morphed into new images, new experiences before me, constantly changing, reforming, whispering echos of new familiarity. My thoughts were everywhere I wanted them to be, everywhere I remember them needing to be. I was not Me anymore, I was more than my narrow focus had once been, still was in some distant land.
I discovered I could draw upon an image and step into it, feel what it felt, experience the colours of its machinations, its enterprises and discoveries. Creative fecundity. Nurturing intent into finely honed reality, allowing my thoughts to encompass a universal understanding that was more than I could bear in one form alone. I was everywhere, all the time, all at once. A pulsing conscious entity that had once had a name, a face, a vision. I miss the taste of lemons crushed over my tongue. I miss the ability to forget and to experience the narrow focus of my old self. If I can just relearn how, then I can return. Be me once again, beautiful , stupid, narrow-minded me with a tongue to taste lemons and kiss the ground, kiss your face, look into your eyes that I helped create. Wipe away the tears that fear loss, feel their warmth on my skin; the taste of the oceans of remembering in them.
I know now that I can come and go as I please, remember and forget at will. Be and not be. Sigh and not sigh. Breathe and be inhaled. All splinters do indeed grow to be tall beautiful useful, and very clever trees.”