Mind

It seems to me that my mind has texture, like the air I breathe has texture. With texture comes a certain solidity, something tangible, something that may be perceived or experienced, and shaped. From encounters with Reality, I'm left with impressions.

Wednesday 25 November 2009

Lila

I was walking down a road the other day, and I decided to walk on the edge of the pavement, balancing with the cars and lorries of the road on my right and the relative safety of the pedestrian area on my left.

If I put my mind to it I am quite good at it, walking along on the edge without swaying too much and without falling this way or the other. And I imagine that there is no road on my right and that there is no pavement to my left, but a drop of several hundred meters on either side. And I imagine that I need to bring these vitally important things over to the other side of this chasm. It doesn't make it harder to balance though, and the imaginary cross-winds doesn't seem to cause much disturbance. I even allow myself to catch my balance by using a couple of centimetres of the pavement.

Maybe I'm just not taking my fantasies seriously enough?

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