Saturday, January 15, 2011

The Great Beyond

Writing is escapism, but escape to where?


Photo is © BrokenSphere / Wikimedia Commons  and remixed a bit by me...

Our minds are vast chasms, littered with portholes to other dimensions of time, space, form and spirit.  But we graze around on the grass for most of our lives.

Am I not in the real world when I am writing?  I am simulating reality.  But it is not a reality that is entirely like this one.  Obviously, being human stipulates that my perspective is limitted to that of a human, but to that end it is still limitless beyond even its comprehensional self-assessment.

And do these worlds, these portholes in the mind, can they bend together to create even larger portholes into the mystical beyond?  Or is that what happens when we die?  Do we jump into one?

Or are they all just entries that lead into the same collective outer-world?

And the mind, vulnerable and self conscious, peaks through?

***This post was written while listening to Farewell Neverland from the Hook soundtrack***


http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HoPppjPkO80


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