|Taoyuan City, Taiwan: 2 Kms from the center of a city with a population of 1.5 million people.|
On most mornings, I get up and begin writing. There are so many things I want to say, yet so little I am sure is right. I wonder, am I speaking or is this the preprogrammed part of me? I want to tell humans specifically what we are. The thing is, as far as I can see, we’re everything - the past, present, future, all of the dimensions, parallel existences and even the failed timelines. So maybe it doesn’t matter what’s out there or where we’ve been. Maybe what really matters is what’s right here, right now, as the choices we make. I feel it inside of me; I have something to say. So I type and I delete and then I type some more, searching for the words.
A couple of months ago, I think it was in January or February when I started checking myself physically for signs of the virus, I noticed a point in the upper left corner of my left lung. It’s an old injury that I first noticed in the eighty’s, like a small hole or a wound that just wouldn’t seem to heal. I remember thinking to myself, eventually this is going to lead to other problems, perhaps pneumonia and this may even be the thing that finally does me in.
About 2-3 months ago, I also started experimenting with my breathing - deep breathing, extremely deep breathing. And then 2-3 weeks ago, I started linking my inhalations of breath to my exhalations in an attempt to equalize the extent or range of my inbreath and outbreath. Usually I do this when I wake up in the mornings between 2 and 4:30 and what I find really fascinating and kind of fun is seeing how much of my physical body I am able to touch or connect to with the in breath and the out breath. Whereas the in-breath is like an expansion to see how far within me I am able to reach and connect to, the out-breath is more like a contraction wherein I’m pushing everything together in an effort to fill in the spaces or fill in the gaps.
OK, one more story and then perhaps I’ll once again look for those words. The other night, I had a dream that I was playing around with the being that used to be my best friend, a dog named Happy. When I looked back at the dream, what I found strange was that Happy’s form wasn’t that of a dog, but more like that of a human with a face that was blurred out. Then I found myself looking into a mirror at what appeared to be a face that was not yet completely formed, kind of like that of an unborn child whose features have yet to develop. What got me most though, was when I looked at my eyes and saw them to be almost completely closed, but for two tiny slits revealing what I guess would be the black pupils of that which was still very much asleep. I took my thumb and forefinger and I tried to open my eyes. But even though the porus (almost see through) skin would stretch, the eyelids refused to open - because they were not yet developed enough to do so.
That’s my story for today and it only took a half hour to write. As for the main point that I keep pushing myself to somehow understand and explain, I have the introduction.
Whereas I would say that the first half of our existence has been about understanding the meaning of life, from a tiny bit mean in the beginning to the meanest meaning of absolute and utter despair, I am fairly certain that the second half of our existence is going to be about understanding and living the value of life. Fascinating times ahead: all we’ve gotta do is push through these last few miles.
Oh! And by the way, that injury in my lungs, I’ve been checking for it and it seems to be gone.