Matter manipulated by the lightest touch of all. Thought.
Thoughts meander easily astray. Thoughts travel memory threads unknowing to instant spots as lightning quirking rods from sky. Do we mirror other’s thoughts; do thoughts tell difference if mapped or if mirrored. Cloud’s of thoughts glide sideways in our dimlike meaning in memories in want.
Mind sorts itself by different means, perhaps be viewed as mirrors, as views we share not knowing if it’s thought are mine or other’s. Clouds are multicomplex associated myriads of symbol’s worlds of myths of tales within the tales. So tight you’d be in a mist if you envision them simultaneously. Threads a bicycle might illustrate; By your bicycle a thousends connections attach; all your bicycle tours, tire punctures, painting the frame, feeling wind through your hair biking in Denmark. Where your repairman has his shop, who you met there, all equipment you which for hanging on the walls. Some associations quite far away. A chewing gum you once where offered my a nice girl on a bike tour. Connections adding onto thousends.
But threads and clouds and mirrors that’s just metaphores of how it really works.
Orchestral waves in mind by waves of waves of permiating universe circumventing all synapes in mind. Neuron dendrites, microtubules, lightest of our thoughts imprinted in not yet known holographic brain scores until we known of how words are lables of our concepts, the tiny universe of each, connects their meanings vast in clusters lived experiences in unending various ways. Some clouds or threads, mycelia millions fragile out in branches. As thinking not with words, they’re typographic letters of course, elegant their forms perfected midth of fifteen hundereds, all sounds in talk, words we use but lables glued to deeper meanings. Concepts clear of defininition not so often, fuzzy meaning underneath, ubiqutous swirling metaphors, making actual word we use. Times in strangely threads long bottom loosing dimlike track in meaning. Some are clouds, some fuzzyness of symbol mirrors, some like threads in mycelia networks in and out themselfs.
FUZZY I KNOW, THINGS DON’T MATCH UP THIS HAS TO BE REWRITTEN
YOUR BICYCLE MEMORY MYCELIA
Root like treads in thousends; memories, definitions, categories, surrounds your well known simple rusty bicycle; occasions on the beach, wind in hair, greese from chain, pedals under feet, rods in well known geometric shape, rubber handlebar and tinkling bell, the wheel gearbox with all it’s cogs, the tire tube and how you mend it, even the first time you learned from your father. Your simple bicycle a universe of remembrances. Everything of this your jelly brain. Memories lingering underneath you now have’nt thought of. You know how it is, you know that you know and if you wanted to recall, you could softly go down the memory lane as easy at that and find your childhoods all encounters. Memories of a bicycle could congregate and reap descriptions in an essay, in minor novels told by you alone if a writer. Is a memory like that so vast? Is a bicycle’s memory a millions of impressions? How is this stored in the multitude of your dendrites, in connection to how you lived, felt of then and here and there. That’s a bike alone. A world almost untold.
OPINIONS NOT OUR OWN
Concepts, political opinions not self experienced mirrors of reflected aspects sometime taught adopted views. You could view them as mirrors of mirrors of opinions, Second hand impressions handed down not first hand real. First hand is a very beer in front of you, second hand all your stories told to you.
Aspects, views and concepts. Memories, of multi treading stories high, levels of a stack of metaphores alone. Sayings, skilles, a blasting wound. Mark a word by traces in your inner love has struck you not alone.
Abstractions sort themselves by meanders multiplying dimension connections out your total knowledge of your memories, all traces work of neurons, microtubules, synapses, atom’s spin and god knows where for now.
DREAMS AND SLEEP SORTS EVERYTHING
Conscious images, feelings, notions, multitude of worlds we humans know of. Day awake. In resting sleep not aware of cleansing neurons celles restructing updates smoothens all our memories. As best phenomenal creativity is reached. Consciousness unconsciousness by means of dreams is parsed as one.
Life is in constant hallucinations by our minds. Cascades of windling threads through synapses alone, making world we know as as real. Mimicking world in language animal incapable of.
Let me tell.
BEAR IN MIND THESE PAGES ARE UNDER BUILDUP, ALL IS INCOMPLETE, CHANGING, EVERYTHING OR ANYTHING INTO MINUTE DETAIL COULD BE ADDED, CHANGED, ABBRIVATED, EXPANDED, EXPLODED EVEN IF IT WOULD SO. AND I HAVE NO RESPONSABILITY TO BE ACCURATE OR BE PROVEN. THIS IS A MINDLESS FREE FLOW OF THOUGHTS AND THINKING AND I MAKE IT UP AS I GOES.
ON MOBILE THE INTERFACE NOT OPTIMAL. THE LIST OF FORTY CHAPTERS VIEWED IN BROWSER TO THE RIGHT, TURNS UP IN MOBILE AT THE BOTTOM END OF THE SCROLL. THIS WILL BE ADJUSTED.
To be continued and iterated..