a short story
Scattered mess strewn around like windblown tumbleweeds on a Spring day. Torn brown bags still sweet from the sap of his source, tea light candles melted, imperfect, struggling to smile, a jittery tambourine, green grass, fresh flowers, a house and an ocean, all on my kitchen table right now.
I am breathing in air, crisp. A flavorless air which I normally would pay no mind until I think about what air really smells like? Is the liquid diamond flavor of the water I drink the same as the crystalline pureness of the air I breathe? In that case, what do all the senses mean? Is there a state of nirvana within each of our senses, and the reason we have not yet evolved is partly due to the misconception of feeling either something or nothing that we have forgotten that all of life is a trinity. What about everything that is neither? Water does not have any flavor, but, it is also not void of taste. It’s something, just, well, nothing really. Sound, touch…all the same. We’ve discovered the “this” and “that” but not yet “the other thing.” So, then, we cannot evolve, because we still have further to go. With a complete disregard, in an over-simplification of society, of the complications that have been bred from the point of saturation to none at all, there is still a middle ground where we know we truly exist. Where I am right at this moment, as are you.
Our sixth sense is not of the physical body but of the mind. So, I begin to touch my face, and I see him do the same. Just looking as a mirror image of myself but not myself at all, no one really, though his features are polished and clear. I’m able to insert my hands into the soft eye resting atop my nasal chamber and just peel away, as one would a slice of melted rubber off a cooling leather back seat. I purged every last bit of the skin and organs and veins out as the flesh fell to the ground, and it smothered that cavity as brown gravy does a raw steak.
I cannot think anything, but I know everything. To exist, we need to understand that we actually, indeed, exist. Just emotions of knowledge pass through me. I am on a deserted beach at noon on a hot day and cold rains and literally ingest, chew, digest spiritually every flavorless, nothingness morsel of emotion. I hear it again, but, with no sound whatsoever. To exist, we need to understand that we, indeed, exist.
The physical sense is controllable. It is attached to us, it is visible, it is immediate and it is very tangible. And, as the human species animal kingdom champion of the world, we are smart enough, strong enough, clever enough to control everything that is. We, who is we? Everything stops. We, who is we? Just light and fantasy and tastes and air. We, who is we? There is not even you. It is only me. Only me.
I cannot ignore my being, I cannot ignore my being, I cannot ignore that my mind is for more than thinking. I cannot ignore my mind is here for more than success. And it went silent again.
Then, everything went dark. Silence; nothing of nothing. Nothing of nothing. All that in the middle. The apex of the trinities of all my senses at once came together and pulled Narcissus from the lake as they walked and joined their brother they have long ignored. You don’t even need to think about what it actually is, one of them said to one of them. Just know.
That’s when the house started shaking. That’s when the earthquake began…