I have begun to wonder recently about my new incarnations, or rather one reincarnation and the other a new incarnation of my life; Photography and writing.
I wonder if my new found ability to write came about because someone who could write died and the gift of writing was searching the darkness for a new home and found me there during my open heart surgery and decided I would be a likely candidate to pick up the gauntlet and face the foes of the unwritten works left by the deceased writer. Is that even possible or has this “gift” been lying dormant somewhere in the recesses of my mind or lost in the maze of folds that make up my physical grey matter? How is it that my mind that previously required a jump start from a battery strong enough to start a Kenworth can, on its own, start and run continuously, sometimes refusing to stop even when my body feels as if it will collapse from exhaustion, think of and bend my physical body to its will; sometimes forcing it to rise at 3:00 in the morning to release the written words from the cage of my mind?
If my new found ability to express myself and the pursuance of the written word (typewritten word) did come from someone whose mind previously contained this inexhaustible meandering through the streams of words that make up the subconscious communication between us all…I hope he/she didn’t perish a lonely death, being driven to insanity by tinnitus of thought.
But, then does this new gift also give my brain seven degrees of separation from anyone that I could possible know or care to know? I doubt if it would or if it did would I really care. Maybe my new found gift would make those from whom I would be seven degrees distant from, be grateful that they are within seven degrees of separation from me…yeah that’s the ticket.
Or…or could this whole thing be caused by the five hours my brain was deprived of air taken in and cleared through the filters in my nasal passages. My brain deprived of such oxygen opened a door that could only be opened by the unconscious…and that I was. But then again we could go waaaaaay off the deep end and I am still under and all the pain and the recovery is still waiting…wait, I’m really against that one because…well pain is for the birds.
But truly whatever sledge hammer hit the nail and drove this insanity of tinnitus of thought into its new permanent home that is my brain, we all will probably come to the same conclusion about presents we receive and don’t understand…Just enjoy them while you have them and realize that “The gods must be crazy.”