Monday 12 March 2012

The Fuzzy Time Of Night

What is it that you think about in the quiet hours? You know, the time in between being conscious and unconscious. The time when the world seems to have slowed down, been put on mute, and it seems as if you are looking through a very thin gauze.

I treasure this time, although it frightens me just a little. I believe that anything can happen even though to the best of my knowledge nothing has ever happened. Mostly, I just think of things that aren’t available to me during my conscious day.

I wonder why my life has evolved into what it is now and just what it might yet become. This is the time that I consider religion. I still haven’t been able to really grasp why it has such a strong hold over us humans. It seems to me that pretty much all religions stress being kind and good to your neighbour. I think where things go spinning out of control is the definition of what a neighbour is. I guess for a lot of these religions, a neighbour is someone that believes exactly the same thing that you do and lives their lives exactly as you do yours. God forbid (literally) that someone decides to not light a candle at the beginning of the service and instead has one burning at all time! Blasphemy! Weird shit.

I wonder why I have the friends that I have. What is it that brought us together in the first place and what is it that keeps us together? Sometimes you can point to a specific moment when you met and I suppose you found common interests. Napoleon Hill writes that if you want to win friends and influence people, the most important thing that you have to do is to be interested in the other person. People will talk about themselves endlessly (some will blog) and at the end of a two hour monologue they will walk away thinking that you are perhaps the most interesting person they have met for quite some time. I would be interested in seeing what would happen if both parties had read Napoleon Hills book. I guess there just wouldn’t be any kind of spark and the relationship would die before it started. So far I have yet to find anyone not willing to talk about themselves.

I wonder why I like to look at spaces. Sometimes when you are lying under a tree, don’t look at the leaves, but at the spaces between the leaves. If you hold your hand up, try not to look at the hand and fingers, but what is between the fingers and around the hand. When you are reading type, try to see inside of the letters. I don’t think this will give you any kind of insight, but it is just another way of looking at things

It seems that I am drifting closer and closer towards the unconscious, so I wish you a very good sleep, but before then, enjoy the fuzzy time of night.

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