The term "spacey" is a funny one. It calls to mind the hypnotic, glazed stare of eyes that are attached to a brain in stasis. But having the ability to quiet the brain can be a very good thing. It's nice to shut off everything but life-support now and then and just drift through space. It takes some practice to get used to calming the brain. That organ is always firing off messages, which is habit forming. Taking the time to observe those messages and decide if they are useful or necessary can help with quieting: achieving spacey-ness.
What direction are we headed with this? Floating through space is sort of a directionless thing. It feels that way, anyhow. The distances are so vast. But does "spacey" require you to be unmoored? A celestial hobo? Even comets have paths determined by grave forces. No one thing is entirely unaffected by any other thing in the matrices of the uni- or multi-verse. Whatever THIS is. Matter is a matter of relationships, seen and unseen.
Celestial hoboes. I hope that the first non-Earthling visitors are these guys and gals. It would beat the pantaloons off any invading forces of imperialist swash-bucklers. The celestial hoboes are in the holy texts of many Earth religions. They are always shunned, misunderstood. The beings who visit Lot in the Old Testicle have a terrifying mystery about them. Certainly they stood seven feet tall hunched over, had beautiful, smooth slightly metallic-green skin and spacey ultra-violet eyes. And they must have sung in strange and beautiful harmonies of the wonder of a mind and spirit open to emptiness. Read "God's messengers" as "messengers from the heavens". They bring you peace, and love. Let them rest a bit in your hay-loft. Don't tell the authorities: the authorities do not enjoy chaos as a philosophy, only as a means to further their power. Celestial hoboes are only concerned with... the truth.
No comments:
Post a Comment