Beginning for me as a sensation of changing pressure, or perhaps more abstractly as slight variations of inertia, not thought about, simply known. Later I perceived a rhythm, pulses within me, phasing with the deep ubiquitous background beat that has always been.
I began to think. I found I could change my own beat, speeding it up, slowing it down, in much the same way I could shift, if I needed to, one big beat, one mad flip. Movement, sucking in, stretching out, twitching, it all felt very… I’m not sure there is a word.
Patterns became clear amongst the cacophony of distant voices, I began to read them because they were starting to make homogeneous sense.
Catastrophe!
The world broke, screaming brightness, utter shock, gasping pain.
Overwhelming detail: the sharpness of my surroundings and the strange rules that apply there, hotnesses, coldness, things that drop others that waft. This body of endless varieties of intense sensation. Glorious colour, delicious texture.
Most perplexing of all, are the others. like me I think, yet not. I learned my body quickly, the world made sense more slowly, but not other people, perplexed too, strangely attractive with the promise of that first lost intimacy, all trying to make sense of each other and in so doing, themselves.
We’ve learned how to dance together, learned histories, poetries, theories and facts. Pretending we know what occurred before us, what will occur afterward. Our patterns make sense, they are our collected wisdom, they are rhythms that leave me wondering if, at what we call the last, there is, for me, a further reality or an end.
For Brevity Quest 2009