Messy and Unorganised

“Every time I read any one of your posts, I am convinced that’s how the human mind works in the rawest form: all messy and unorganised.” – Devangi.

This is a carefully considered sentence. This sentence is part of a structured paragraph. The whole paragraph was rehearsed in my mind before I took out my phone to type it. This paragraph consists of short statements, each of which is self-sufficient and self-explanatory. Each sentence makes sense on its own, and yet, together, they make a whole that contains more than the sum of their parts: a paragraph.

This paragraph was built from the germ of an idea that I have now forgotten but which revolves around a squirrel I just saw and the yellow t-shirt I am wearing. Although the paragraph as a whole contains just one subject, my effort to find the original reason for writing the paragraph will make the individual sentences a little more diffuse. That’s because I’m consciously trying to access my unconscious mind at the same time as using conscious processes to make the sentences coherent enough to be read by yourself. On the first point, I failed because I still have no idea why the squirrel and my t-shirt were important to me. On the second point: only you can be the judge of the extent of my success.

Before starting to write this paragraph I did something with my mind that seems, on brief reflection, to have been like a disengagement from … reality. It felt a bit like a brief meditation but it was more like me dangling my feet over the edge of an internal abyss in preparation for me thrusting myself into its depths. I’m not there yet. My conscious thought processes are holding me back. I am tethered to the edge by my desire and efforts to explain. You notice, though, that my language has become more inventive and my … I’m looking up into the sky now searching for words that don’t exist. The indescribable is not amenable to description.

Monty Python’s Flying Circus consisted of a bunch of chaps who habitually slipped over the edge. Their skits skirted reality, avoided sense and were, as a result, sublime examples of mess and disorganisation. Plus, they were funny. But without, I think, intending to be. People laughed because they were taken to unexpected places that made them uncomfortable in the safety of their own seats.

I want to be a stand-up comic when I grow up and by growing up I don’t intend any reference to my height but more to my maturity as a person. Fear is an attribute of immaturity. Boldness consists of casting yourself over the edge without a parachute whilst clutching an anchor to your chest. The name of the anchor doesn’t matter, it can be anything that serves to help you to plumb the depths of your being. Deep inside us all, and perhaps we’re all joined at the bottom, is our true reality. I only portray this journey as being downward because sub-conscious contains sub. Take a deep breath. Jump.

Word association is as good a vehicle as any. Dreams are the royal road. Unhinge with drugs (but don’t – they are unnecessary and potentially harmful) if you must. Mediation definitely helps because it allows you to make maps of the within (which are always useful to find your way back). Genius was originally a voice inside the walls (outside yourself) calling you to make a journey. Explore these avenues. They all belong to you.

Once you’re in the trees, swing from bough to leaf to organelle and then slip inside to find the sweetest juice of the empty jaws of mastication and allow yourself, impossibly, to be chewed.

Then write.

Thanks, Devangi.


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