Talking with Myself

Talking with Myself

I was having a rather interesting conversation with myself recently. My words and thoughts seemed to float in a cloud above my head -- like in the comics. This seems to happen a lot lately - the conversations, not the interesting part. Sometimes I bore myself nearly to death. Recriminations seem to do that. I have a lot of recriminations and there's not much new I can say about them. Things happened, I can't change that and any apologies or retributions have either been made or decided against. I must live with the consequences. Anything more would be flogging a dead horse. Interesting, if somewhat morbid visual imagery, "flogging a dead horse." The phrase was originally attributed to British politician and orator John Bright in 1867 who, in try to arouse Parliament from apathy on an issue, said in a speech, "it would be like trying to 'flog a dead horse' to make it pull a load."

Back to my conversation with myself. Where was I? floating, I think. My best conversations with myself seem to give me the impression that I am floating. Except for the negative ones which seem to drag me down.

A faint scent of lilac is wafting through the open side window on the evening breeze. But, back to floating. I have experienced many kinds of floating. Demerol has induced that effect while I was in hospital. That was a great feeling of floating. I felt like I was doing backwards somersaults into pink clouds. On a more day to day basis I experience floating when I am given the opportunity to fully relax. Massage, wine or beer helps. I would recommend massage to anyone. Wine and beer, on the other hand, have a negative side. While floating, thoughts seem to slow down and become more comprehensible, somewhat like clouds taking shape.

Clouds I find interesting, especially the big puffy ones with well defined edges that look like they're made from sea foam. Watching them change shape can be intriguing. First a huge face may appear ... then it may take the appearance of a horse pulling a chariot ... then a dragon. Thoughts can take the most fantastic shapes. Anything is possible. I can travel to distant parts of the globe, through time and through different dimensions. Like listening to Pink Floyd, all things are possible and meaning is irrelevant. It gets in the way of more important things. Billy Idol talks of being "On the floors of Tokyo / Or down in London town to go, go" in his song "Dancing With Myself."

Dancing with myself is an interesting concept. No more absurd that conversing with myself, yet somehow more intimate, more sensual. It could lead to hugging and kissing with myself, caressing myself. I don't want to go there.

Music helps to slow the pace of thoughts. It is something one may listen to, or ignore at will, allowing thoughts to intersperse themselves. Otherwise I find thoughts to be somewhat like bumper cars. One thought has barely materialized before another crashes into it. Thought particles fly everywhere, into oblivion.

The breeze has changed direction and I now catch a whiff of peony from the front window. But, I digress, back to thoughts. Sometimes the thoughts come so fast and furious that no new thoughts can penetrate the whirlwind of meaningless, emotional mental activity or mind chatter. That can really get me into trouble. Its the new thoughts that that are usually the thoughts of reason, compassion and arbitration. Without them words may spill out with no control or consideration of consequences -- like unleashing a pack of angry dogs. Once unleashed they are difficult if not impossible to call back.

Dogs as pets, on the other hand, may be very calming. They don't expect much. They want to be fed, cared for and taken for walks. These are all very calming experiences. Caring for a dog takes one's mind off one's daily worries and irritations. In return a dog will give unconditional love and attention. It will lick, nuzzle and cuddle to the point where objectionable thoughts are pushed aside in favor of this all consuming bundle of affection.

Like dogs, my ultimate goal is to be at one with the moment. Tail wagging, chasing a ball, gnawing a bone, keeping my thoughts and conversations directed to the specific thing I am doing, regardless of what that may be. Opening a can of soup, playing guitar, reading a book or cleaning the bathroom all deserve my undivided attention. Meditation has helped me with this, although I am not disciplined enough to follow through on a consistent basis. I need to work on this. I think it could lead my conversations with myself to a higher, more interesting level.

Thanks for sharing this conversation with me. Having you here to listen to my rantings and ravings has helped to give them form and substance. My thoughts seem more justified if there is the obligation to elucidate and define them. Perhaps you would like to join me in a conversation again sometime. I would enjoy that.