The brain, home of man’s magical mind, is always in a whiz, always on the go. It dashes off here or there without warning, maybe to China or back to the swimming pool scene of its favorite movie. It travels fast, light (despite its personal baggage). Time cannot hold it down. The mind jumps backwards and forwards with the same breezy ease. Always darting from one spot to another. It doesn’t know how to be still. An old song floats out of the radio and, oops, off it goes again. I’m at my first dance in the junior high school gym. Here it lingers, but only for an instant. Flighty, floaty, flaky, fluky. The mind darts about everywhere because, formless, it can never actually be anywhere.
What is me? I take away my house, I’m still here. I remove my profession, I’m still here. I take away my diplomas, I’m still here. What is me? Teacher, mom, wife, daughter, tennis player, foreigner. What is me?! I remove my kids, I’m still here. I remove Jack, I’m still here. I remove this pen, I’m still here.
I remove it all, I’m still me. Everything that can be removed is not me. Everything I have and do can be removed. (My entire life can be removed.)
I am not my life?
What is left?
Know thyself is to know that you are two and you are one. You are separated and you are whole.
You are a divine creature walking around in a spacesuit. The divine part of you cannot function in the physical world of form. So when we come to this land of paper and plastic, of fire and flesh, of old and new, of beginnings and ends, we need a protective coating. I am a hue in a man on a mission to Mars.