Sunday, August 26, 2007
Let it be
Just a bit ago I took a lantern outside and headed for the unfinished labyrinth. Still hot in the desert darkness, yet the canopy of stars lit my every glance upwards, and being alone I found myself humming, then singing that old Beatle tune, "Let it Be.” And isn't it interesting that a piano was playing inside my head. Soon I found myself laying in the center of the labyrinth, that area somewhat complete, complete enough that I had a rather flat stone for a pillow, and above I took in the universe. Instead of rhapsodizing about the stars, I simply chewed on some beef jerky that Bro. Simon made last week. Very spicy. Then I thought of everything that seems to be, yet is completely different. Bro. Juniper brought back some newspapers from his trip to Barstow and the Los Angeles Times had a story on memory that I found interesting. A scientist attempting to figure out exactly how memory works. And then to zoom in and watch memory working on slices of rat's brain. And it comes down to very tiny bits of this and that inside the brain. Of course I want them to find a grand ballroom, with huge movie screen, sound system, something for smells, and in the middle MY reclining chair. But no, all the senses send their various signals and before entering the brain, they are converted to electrochemical codes that make their way to the part of the brain that knows how to decode the codes. And then what? Here I was, looking straight up, the photons of countless stars that have been traveling for countless years, finally reach Earth and finally reach my opened eyes and are focused and hit the retina and ... and in the grand ballroom that I imagine, I see the Milky Way. See? Not only is my brain decoding the codes send to it, but is creating this image of the Milky Way, not in my head, but countless light years above my head! I think what I see is actually up there! When I know it is actually inside here! Inside my brain. My whole life is inside my head! But that brain is busy projecting, tossing out before my nose, the whole recreated world that was made from bits and pieces of codes inside my noggin. I think Bro. Simon used too much cayenne, for my tongue was burning ... or was it? I thought it was, but really I know that the burning is taking place deep inside my brain, along with images of countless stars, and a piano with Paul McCartney playing “Let It Be” just for me.