Thursday, 10 August 2017

Time and Plenishment

The moments when I am able to embrace the perfection of not giving a rat's tail would fleet if fleet were a verb.

It is often enough an occurrence of mind that what later might well be forgot might do well with an advanced preemptive reminder. As well, often enough has come the thought that what later might well be forgot should be forgot as shock therapy for he who does not remember — should it come to that. And how often it has!

In the most recent scenario, my mind was given to vex in the state lain down to sleep. Applied to the present, this means the mind with the awareness entrenched of a math and its analogous anatomy — a sort of geometry, given the math — in the shape of a shadow on the face of a clock, formed from the focus on the eight hours between when the mind has lain, and when it later would wake.

Eight hours is an obsession of mind down to the single suggestion long ago that eight is ideal. Ever since that suggestion not a day has fully elapsed without its influence, and the math, and the shape of the shadow, its rising unease that we are fastly approaching the beginning of the eight. This rising unease connotes a sinking sense fueled as well by the most compelling condition of the day during which the mind will conjure any reason not to stand the body up and out of its bed. It's such a dreadful state of mind, the knowledge of its amplitude's inverse proportionality to the length of preceding sleep lends great weight to the eight hour idea. It's a simple obsession, but with a particular emotional response to every proposed plan's proximity to the eight.

As my mind perched on the body it had laid down for the lying eight — the shadow cast: a concern for the past — it was befallen by the memory of a necessity for the next day's proceedings that on the next day might well be forgot. It processed the possibilities toward preemption but was immediately stricken with the image of an already third-devoured dark pie. Surely the memory would hold 'til tomorrow, would take hold in the morning, its importance too great. Whatever. Sleep is crucial. It would have to wait.

And as the mind does, it wandered. First warily, it rose like the falling shadow sinking fettered into a feeling, then wondering, reemerging and settling into an extraordinary solution. Not just a solution to the immediate problem, but a longer term solution to the concern about not simply remembering without having to be reminded. A substance and a cure.

It occurred in the mind that every failure to visualize a successful future result was due to the failure to identify the appropriate action. The appropriate action can only be identified when it comes. When it comes, send it back.

Should the memory come, a bridge can be built from that moment to this, back to the mind when it thought it might well forget. If in the morning the memory comes, do not let it go so fleetingly unacknowledged. Hold onto it and analyze it. Say it out loud: "This memory thought it might be lost. The shadow threatened to ruin the whole of today."

Recall that shadow so vividly that the mind travels back to the moment of conflict. Recall how the shadow weighed too much to allow the taking of an immediate precaution, a biting slice of the dark pie. Think about what it was like then to wonder if this memory would come again later at a time of near enough perfect convenience. Now identify all that's convenient in this present moment, try to remember if this had come to mind in the previous evening's shadow play, and cast all this imagery and information back to that time's state of mind. Tell that mind about this moment in gripping detail. Remind it that it does exist. Square the circle of the memory of what later might well be forgot, and the moment it was recalled.